Haze

Harry Potter and Blaise Zabini ship. {{Infobox
 * Box title = Ship
 * Row 1 title = Person 1
 * Row 1 info = Ginny Weasley
 * Row 2 title = Person 2
 * Row 2 info = Blaise Zabini
 * Row 3 title = Ship name(s)
 * Row 3 info = Blinny
 * Row 4 title = Canon?
 * Row 4 info = Not Canon
 * Row 5 title = Type of pairing
 * Row 5 info = Slash
 * Row 6 title = Age gap
 * Row 6 info = Ginny is younger by a year

Opinions
HPshipper: Unusual but kind of sweet.

T
''"What?" Harry Potter inquired.''

''His fellow Gryffindor and best mate, Ron Weasley, once again mumbled softly into one of the many pillows that decorated the couches of the Gryffindor's Common room. The be-speckled teenager sighed, tugging the plush material and stating, "Ron, I can't understand pillow-mutter."''

The ginger-haired wizard lifted his head, turning forlorn azure eyes to meet emerald.

''"Hermione is dating Blaise Zabini," he stated with the utmost conviction. Harry's lips quirked in amusement; this was the third time in a week his best friend accused the bushy-haired Muggle-born of having an alleged "relationship" with yet another Slytherin. Though for this particular Slytherin, the Boy-Who-Lived was quite confident in his friend's misconception. Hermione was definitely not Zabini's type.''

''"Did she say she was?" Harry asked, humouring his friend.''

"Well, not exactly, It's just…" The youngest male Weasley sighed in rejection, before finishing dramatically, "They were meeting in the library… together."

Harry snorted softly, an unbidden grin sweeping across his face, causing Ron to glare in indignation.

''"It's not funny!" He growled half-heartedly, slumping against the couch, and resuming his position with a pillow against his face. Harry vaguely wondered if his assumptions had anything to do with the lack of oxygen to the brain, with all those lovely dying brain cells.''

"Ron, maybe you should go talk to her. I'm pretty sure you're just jumping to conclusions."

Said teenager lifted his head and stared into space with a look of pure concentration, or constipation, and the raven-haired boy could almost hear the light-bulb flickering above his head.

"Hey, maybe I should'' talk to her… Thanks Harry." The red-head pranced out of the room. Yes, pranced, there was no other word for it, his spirits high once again. (That is, until he saw Hermione spending time with someone of the opposite sex.) Leaving Harry by himself, or so it seemed.''

''Fabric rippled from across the room, making the air quiver as an invisibility cloak spilled across the feet of one tall, chocolate-skinned Slytherin. Blaise Zabini sauntered toward the couch where his lover lounged, taking a seat beside him. Emerald eyes glittered mischievously as Harry straddled the larger boy's thighs.''

''"Could you imagine? Me? Going out with that Mud-Muggle-born?" Blaise questioned arrogantly, wrapping his muscled arms around Harry's narrow waist, bringing him closer.''

"Well, I thought it was amusing," Harry said with a smile, before frowning and delivering a sharp flick to his boyfriend's forehead, "I really don't like that word."

"At least I'm trying," Zabini said, admitting his slip of the tongue, before pale, pink lips brushed softly against his own.

''"And that's why I love you." Harry stated, leaning his forehead against the Slytherin's.''

''"Utterly ridiculous, if that Weasel and his Bookworm used their brains, they'd realize how infatuated they are with one another," Blaise muttered dryly. The Slytherin lifted his hands and pulled Harry into another chaste kiss. Harry hummed affectionately, before pulling back with a devious smile.''

"I wish I could be there when Ron confronts her, she'll have a cow."