Isobel’s pulse fluttered uncomfortably at his flirtation, a fact which puzzled her. But she let it slide, however, her good mood overriding her usual pessimism and impulse to analyze everything.
“Be careful what you wish for, Mr Zabini,” she replied, keeping her gaze locked on his. “Creativity is quite a dangerous thing coming from a mind like mine.” Her eyes twinkled with mirth as she smiled up at him.
The realization that she had returned his flirtation so effortlessly struck her then, and she looked away with a soft sigh. She mentally berated herself for it, knowing that she just unwittingly thrust herself into unknown and terrifying territory. She simply could not let her guard down around him again.
“So, I suppose you are going to force me back to my dormitory now?” She couldn’t help but notice that a small part of her wished that he wouldn’t, and that he would ask for another late night stroll. How disconcerting, indeed.
Arching a brow at MacDougal’s now obvious flirtation, Blaise’s grin faltered slightly, his eyes averting down the hall. It wasn’t as if he’d never had a female speak to him suggestively, or vice versa, doing so himself, and anyone who’d known him well knew he was far from a virgin. But Isobel had an aura of something different, dark, and totally discomforting to his cool nature. He hadn’t actually expected her to respond with the same level of curious teasing.
Returning his gaze to Isobel’s, Blaise sneered weakly, pushing the unsettling feeling aside, “I wouldn’t have suggested it, if I wasn’t curious to what you might come up with.”
He was glad she seemed in a better mood, their first encounter held a sense of gloom that radiated from the Ravenclaw. Blaise guess this had to do with possibly getting some sleep, since he had not seen her out past curfew in his last few rounds. His thoughts were interrupted by Isobel’s question, and for a moment Blaise felt at lost to a fitting response.
By the spark in the red head’s eyes, Blaise could tell she either expected, or hoped, for him to say no. Narrowing his eyes as a playful smirk tugged at his lips, the Slytherin bowed slightly to be at the shorter girl’s eye level, “I sense you already know, or at the least, have a favorable answer to your own question,” He drawled out in a low tone, “I have yet to scold you and take away points. So what do you think?”
As he bent down to her eye level, that damnable blush of hers crept up Isobel’s cheeks. He must have sensed her hope for a positive response and was not afraid to flaunt that knowledge, she thought. She was once again an open book for him to read, and the thought frightened her.
So much for not letting her guard down.
“Well,” she began, looking away from his rather intense gaze. “To be quite candid, I was hoping for the chance to walk about the castle for a short while before I returned to my room. And I would not necessarily mind some company”
She bit her lip and glanced back at him, a queer sense of anxiety overtaking her. Was she nervous about him turning her down? What in the bloody hell was wrong with her?
Reblogged from: zabinipride
Originally posted by: scottish-rose
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