From Beginning to Beginning for kates_lj by ephemere13
Title: From Beginning to Beginning
Author: ephemere13
Rating: R
Summary: Some stories don't have end. Just a new beginning.
A/N: Written for kates_lj, who requested a humurous HBP-compliant fic with much Draco/Ginny witty banter. Hopefully my wit meets the mark. The fact that this story got completed without killing itself is solely because of meera: best beta ever.
Arching her back, Ginny tried to work the kinks out of it. The events of the last few hours had really taken a toll on her muscles. She tried shifting her position, but the upholstered bench gave nothing more than the impression of comfort, despite its appearances. Ginny resisted the urge to uncross and recross her legs for about the fifth time in the last ten minutes. She resigned herself to the fact that there was nothing she could do to ease the sore she felt all over. The other witches and wizards in the waiting room were doing their best not to regard her with disdain, and Ginny was doing her best not to glare back at them. If they’d had a night like hers then surely they’d understand what she was going through.
“Miss?” the mediwitch called from behind the counter a few feet away. “Miss? With the red hair?” she tried again when she received no response.
Immediately recognizing herself as the only redhead in the small lobby, Ginny stood, perhaps too quickly for her own good. She slowly walked over to the counter, attempting to pass off her soreness for suaveness. After all, Draco never seemed to be in a rush (barring recent circumstances) and he always looked dignified. If he could pull it off, surely she could as well. Of course, once the mediwitch asked her if she was in need of a wheelchair, Ginny decided her image was probably the least of her concerns right now.
“I’m fine,” she assured the mediwitch upon arriving at the counter emblazoned with the St. Mungo’s insignia. “What can you tell me about Draco?”
“You’ll have to ask the medic about his patient. I just need you to fill out some paperwork for me,” came the response from across the counter. The mediwitch looked up and gave Ginny a calculating look. She took in her disheveled appearance, and the look of consternation Ginny was wearing in attempts to seem cool and collected, and changed her mind. The mediwitch informed her in slow and deliberate words that she would fill out the paperwork for her, and could Ginny please answer some simple questions?
When Ginny nodded, the mediwitch gave her the kind of indulging smile that Mrs. Weasley usually reserved for her best-behaved grandchild that would soon reap the biggest piece of pie. Not quite sure of what her accomplishment was to receive such a beatific smile, Ginny simply waited patiently for the mediwitch to ask her questions.
“Relation to the patient?” the older witch voiced.
“Pardon?” the panicked look in Ginny’s face clearly stated that she had never once considered defining her relationship with Draco.
“Miss, how are you related to the patient?”
“Oh dear, I don’t think I’m related to Draco. Although, well, there was that one tapestry we found at Gri - er, some place - that said something about Draco’s mum and my mum and a few generations back, but I hardly think that’s enough to consider him an actual relative. After all he’s most definitely not a brother or a cousin or anything of the sort.” Ginny let out a nervous chuckle before continuing, “That would definitely make our most recent situation slightly awkward. Well, more than just slightly awkward if you think about how many brothers I do have. I suppose the only other way we could be related would be legally, then? Merlin knows we’re not anywhere near married yet. Not to say that we will be one day. Then again, that’s not to say that we never will be. In fact, I don’t even know if you could call us lovers. I mean, doesn’t that imply some kind of ongoing - er - and not just the once…well, you see, ma’am, I really don’t think it’s appropriate for me to be discussing mine and Draco’s relationship with you before I actually discuss it with him. Provided that we do discuss it, and that there is a relationship to discuss,” she added as an afterthought. Several seconds passed in utter silence, in which the mediwitch stared at Ginny with a mixture of exasperation and pure awe at encountering such a character as Ginny Weasley.
“I’ll just put down that you’re a friend, then.”
“Friend. Yes. First and foremost, a friend. Yes, of course. That is how it all started, isn’t it?” It was apparent to both the mediwitch and Ginny that she was speaking more to herself than to anyone else. After answering a few more questions regarding how the cost of the hospital stay would be covered (“Honestly, you’re housing Draco Malfoy, and you’re worried about monetary compensation?”), if there would be someone to take him home when he was ready (“I suppose he’d want me to take him home. Although for probably entirely different reasons than you’re thinking.”), and if there was any member of the family that he would like informed (“That’s probably the easiest question you’ve asked me. No.”)
Ginny took her seat again, trying to ignore the prickling in her eyes that told her how tired she was. She leaned forward to rest her elbows on her knees and press the heels of her hands into her eyes. First and foremost, a friend. Yes, that is definitely how this all started, she thought to herself.
Of course, one could argue it really all began when one Tom Riddle got the idea to collect as much power as he could. But then, almost any part of the Wizarding World today could be traced back to such a moment. One could also argue that it all began when one Lucius Malfoy pledged his allegiance to a Dark Lord respected by some, and feared by all. Or one could equally argue that it all began when one Draco Malfoy lowered his wand when faced with the task of slaying his Headmaster. Wherever it was that everything began, and wherever it is that everything stood now, one thing Ginny was sure of was how much a part of her life Draco Malfoy had really become.
After the infamous raid on Hogwarts by the Deatheaters, the world as Ginny and her friends knew it was turned upside down. Everything happened in such a blur for her that even now, three years later she could barely keep the events straight without asking Hermione for help. Despite everything, she could only remember the past in snippets of events, and even those snippets changed each time she tried to remember. She and Harry were no longer allowed to love each other. Snape was discovered as a double agent. Ron, Hermione and Harry found the Horcruxes. Narcissa Malfoy and her son showed up at Grimmauld Place seeking sanctuary. Lucius Malfoy was discovered dead, murdered by Deatheaters. Harry faced Voldemort in the battle that would end them all.
In the midst of all of this Ginny had managed to find comfortable ground with Draco. Whether they discovered each other while jointly tending to Professor Snape’s wounds, or whether they discovered each other while pretending not to purposely force Hermione and Ron into embarrassing situations (the fact that Hermione had mistakenly thought the shower was empty and walked in on Ron could hardly be blamed on either Draco or Ginny), somewhere along the line a friendship had formed. So how did Ginny end up here, in the waiting room at St. Mungo’s, waiting, as it were, for Draco to be declared uninjured and perfectly capable of continuing his earlier acts of lovemaking?
Ginny supposed the change in her and Draco’s interactions was probably a result of the so-called incident from a week before. Draco had agreed to attend a society function hosted by the owner of a company he wished to acquire, Roofus Cottingly. Of course the invitation had required a date. As he was currently running short on arm-candy, Draco informed Ginny that she would have to suffice. This wouldn’t have been a problem had it not been for Cottingly’s automatic assumption that Ginny was Draco’s secret fiancée.
“Come now, Weasley,” Draco had said, “surely it wouldn’t kill you to pretend to be my fiancée for one evening. If you do a good job, I might be inclined to consummate this relationship later on tonight,” he had finished with a smirk that probably should have been registered as a deadly weapon.
“Careful, Malfoy. You don’t want to get too fresh with me, or I might be inclined to leave you at the altar.” She plucked a champagne flute from a passing tray and raised an eyebrow in challenge.
“I’d probably be better off if you did leave me. Merlin knows our house would be crawling with little pink-haired brats, if your mother’s fertility is any indication.” Ginny had just been about to respond with something to the effect of where he could take his pink-haired babies and stick them, when they were suddenly interrupted.
“AH, YOUNG LOVE!” A booming voice sounded from their left. Spinning, Ginny and Draco saw their suspiciously rosy-cheeked host rapidly approaching them. “Oh, how I love young couples in love!”
Draco was uncharacteristically fascinated by the way the other man’s double chin shook ever so slightly when he laughed, and so Ginny took the lead, melding her body into Draco’s side. She felt Draco stiffen then quickly wrap an arm around her waist.
“Oh, that just warms an old man’s heart,” Cottingly continued. “Give us a kiss, why don’t you?”
Draco, still stunned by the sudden outburst and probably over influenced by champagne, leaned forward and placed a gentle but firm kiss on the older man’s cheek.
“Erm, Draco,” Ginny murmured hesitantly through Cottingly’s raucous laughter, “I think he meant us.”
“Damned if I’m going to let him lay his lips on my fiancée!” Draco responded in an elevated whisper.
“No, Draco, he meant you and me, you great pillock!” She ended up shouting the last words, entirely too fed up with Draco’s oblivious behavior.
Suddenly nearly half the ballroom was staring at the three of them, trying to decide who was more entertaining to watch: their tottering host, the profusely blushing redhead, or the still half-stunned half-scowling blond millionaire. The silence continued into the next second, and both Ginny and Draco began to panic. Perhaps as a product of being friends for so long, or perhaps because of Cottingly’s obnoxious remarks, the same idea occurred to both of them, and before long they had met half way in an anxious kiss. It was awkward at first, with Draco trying to tilt his head down to meet hers, and Ginny trying to lean in without spilling her champagne glass. Draco shifted, though, and all of a sudden the angle of the kiss changed to something altogether indescribable. Sighing into each other’s mouths, they instantly recovered their grace. There was a tingling in the pit of Ginny’s stomach that she was sure had nothing at all to do with the champagne she had been drinking, but most probably more to do with the circles Draco was drawing on the small of her back.
Just as he was about trail his hand up in her hair, horror infused his system when he felt something trickle down the inside of his leg. Refusing to open his eyes and possibly recognize that for the first time in his life Draco Malfoy had been unable to exercise appropriate self-control (that one time in his fifth year with the Arithmancy tutor did not count), he froze. Ginny however, managed to push him away and sheepishly point out that she had spilled her champagne on his Italian-tailored robes. Expecting some kind of snarky comment about her upbringing or at least a scowl, she had been slightly surprised when all he did was thank whatever deities were watching him that night.
The rest of the evening had passed without much ceremony. Draco and Ginny had managed to avoid more embarrassing situations with Cottingly, although that was probably due to his discovery of a group of less than tastefully dressed young women. As for herself, Ginny had turned into a bundle of nerves. She couldn’t tell if she was actually walking into Draco more than usual, or if she was just noticing it more, but either way, ever time her hand accidentally brushed against his she felt a quiver up her arm. And when he led her by the waist towards the coat check, she nearly lost her breath. The look he gave her after he had walked her to her front door left her reaching for the wall, because her knees couldn’t be trusted to provide adequate support.
“You know, Weasley, we’ve done a lot of things together, haven’t we?” At her nod, he continued, “tonight, however, was definitely a first.”
“Yeah, I hardly would have imagined myself going to some social party with Draco Malfoy, pretending to be his fiancée.”
“What else haven’t we done together?” Draco seemed to be speaking to her, but something about the way he was talking made her feel as though he would have said the same words even if she weren’t there. It sounded almost rehearsed. “You’ve never tasted my cooking.” Hearing his last words immediately pulled Ginny out of the clouds she had been floating on since she first saw him arrive to collect her for their evening together.
“That’s probably because you’ve never cooked a day in your life,” she managed to get out between her muffled attempts at hiding her laughter.
“Let’s make a wager, you and me. I’ll cook dinner for you a week from tomorrow. If you don’t find the meal satisfactory, I’ll be your slave for a week. If it does stand up to your mark however, you get to be my slave for a week.” Something about his grin told Ginny that he wouldn’t have at all been displeased with either outcome. She tucked herself into bed that night, firmly convinced that something was off with the universe. She assured herself that come Monday, everything would return to normal. Only that wasn’t the case.
Ginny had just finished a long lunch with Hermione when she was walking back to her Ministry desk. The girls had rejoiced over the newest addition to the Weasley family that Hermione would be bringing forth in nine months. As she approached the door to her office, Ginny saw the back of Draco’s head disappear around a corner. She briefly debated the merits of chasing after him, but decided that she might come across as slightly desperate to determine who would be whose slave, come Friday. Not that she was actually looking forward to either outcome. Really.
It was never a big surprise to see Draco haunting the halls of the Ministry. Given his wealth and subsequent power, he often took an active role in all sorts of legislation, although it had taken quite a bit of work on his part to exonerate himself of his father’s sins. What was a big surprise for Ginny was reaching over to her in “in-box” and stopping short when she saw a small box wrapped in silver paper in the center of her desk.
Tearing open the packaging revealed an elegant silver chain with a smooth hunk of black stone hanging from it. Ginny instantly recognized the stone as magically enhanced obsidian that Draco had told her protects against unwelcome intruders. She could almost hear Draco’s voice in her head: “If you want Creevey to stop begging ‘round for a date, you should do something about it.” The rest of the week passed in much the same vein. By Friday, Ginny had a diamond-studded hair clip (“Would it kill you to put that infernal mass of hair up at least on a windy day? As much I like you, I generally don’t enjoy the taste of hair.”); a set of silver-tipped quills (“I might actually have to invest in a set of reading glasses just to decipher the smudges in all your owls. Don’t you have any fine-tipped quills?”); a pair of white gold hoops to replace the pair she had lost one night when she had crashed on his couch; and a leather-bound journal with silken pages of parchment (“You should treat yourself like a queen, Weasley. If you must write down your thoughts, you at least owe it to yourself to write in something decent-looking.”).
Ginny piled all of her gifts on her desk Friday afternoon before she left to go home. She stared at the pile for the better part of an hour, just trying to come to grips with it all.
The product of all of this was an anxious Weasley holding a bottle of white wine trying not to splinch herself. The pendant was comfortably settled between her breasts and her hair was twisted up into the clip. When she arrived at his flat, she found the door open and walked straight in to the currently empty dining room. She peeked through the open counter dividing the dining room from the kitchen, and seeing no one, decided to take a look around. The room was lit with candles of various shapes and sizes, all exuding a scent that Ginny couldn’t quite place, but was content to just enjoy. Somewhere in the world pigs had just sprouted wings, and she was fairly certain that her best friend Draco Malfoy, voted most eligible bachelor by Witch Weekly three years in a row, was trying to court her.
The noises filtering from the kitchen, however, distracted her. Placing the bottle of wine on the table, she smoothed her dress down with clammy hands. Soon finding that her hands itched to do something, however, she picked up the bottle of wine and went to join him in the kitchen. Suddenly, dinner with Draco seemed so much more nerve-wracking than she had planned. The whole point of doing this was to have a casual dinner between friends, wasn’t it? Except, somehow it had become something entirely different. As soon as Draco heard footsteps behind him, he looked up from the pot he was in the middle of charming.
“Weasley,” he said pleasantly, “you’re early.”
“Am I?” Ginny’s voice was barely above a harsh whisper. Something about the atmosphere tonight put her completely on edge. Granted this was her best friend, but she suddenly forgot how to be around him at all. There must have been something in the air. But then why wasn’t he affected like she was? Sure, he seemed happy enough to see her, but where was the confusion she was suffering? Pushing through the fog in her mind, Ginny asked, “What time is it?”
“It doesn’t matter. I just thought I’d point out that you came early. I’d also like to take the opportunity to point out that I have never come early, neither do I plan on it at any time in the future.” If Draco was anxious that she fully understood this, Ginny didn’t notice.
“And I would need to know this because…” Ginny teased. She started to find comfortable ground again, and was pleased to see him smirking back at her.
“Just making sure you realized, in case it becomes an issue when you have to do my bidding for a week.”
“Rather confident, aren’t we, Malfoy?”
“And why not? Come taste this sauce. You’ll understand.” Draco beckoned to her with a tilt of his head, and Ginny was thankful that enough blood had returned to her knees to let her walk to the stirring pot.
Standing over the pot, Draco coated a fingertip with the rich tomato sauce, and held it to her lips to taste. Even if she were threatened under wand-point to mere inches of her life, Ginny wouldn’t have been able to recall what she tasted. All she knew was that nothing could ever be the same between her and Draco again; not after feeling the energy she felt now. Locked in his gaze, Ginny vaguely acknowledged that her head was swimming. Why am I so dizzy? It was only when she saw his eyes darken that she realized she had spoken the words out loud.
“Maybe it’s the wine,” he whispered, moving closer to her.
“We haven’t popped the cork yet.”
“Maybe not, then.”
And then there were no more words.
From the moment that Draco’s mouth descended on Ginny’s, there wasn’t a single beat that passed without them touching each other. They had stumbled their way to the bedroom, both vaguely aware that it was a miracle they hadn’t shed their clothes right into the pot of pasta sauce. Draco pulled her close and trailed his mouth across the deep neck of her cocktail dress.
“Undress me, Weasley,” he commanded in a low growl. Not one for argument, Ginny reached forward and began to slip each button out of its hole, mesmerized by the new expanses of skin suddenly at her mercy. When she pulled the shirttails out of his trousers, she looked up into his face, and was suddenly struck speechless. The emotion in his eyes told her something heartwarming and overwhelmingly frightening at the same time.
Taking advantage of her momentary distraction, Draco ran his fingertips along the edges of her face before taking her chin in his hand. He dipped his head slowly and tentatively touched her lips with his. When she melted into him, he lifted her by the waist and deposited her in the middle of the bed.
Draco discarded his open shirt, and stood over the side of the bed, looking down at her. Ginny watched the muscles in his arms bunch and release as he slipped his belt through the belt loops, and was fascinated by how much he resembled something out of Greek mythology. Itching for his presence, she tried to reach out and hurry him along, but her hand was only slapped away.
“Now is not the time for haste, my pet.” His voice washed over her in waves of silky pleasure. “Tonight we explore,” he began, shedding his trousers as he spoke. “Tonight we learn.” His boxers soon followed. “Tonight,” he paused, crawling up on the bed to sit half over her, “you let me love you the way you’ve always wanted to be loved.” His hands were comfortably resting just under the hem of her dress, and Ginny was nearly squirming at his immobility. Suddenly realizing that he was waiting for her permission, Ginny hauled herself up so they were at eye level.
“No one knows me better than you, Draco,” she breathed. “You’ve never once had to ask me my thoughts to know them. Don’t ask me now.”
“I know, Ginny, but - ” he cut himself off when Ginny raised two fingers to his lips.
“Don’t stop.” He almost had to strain to hear the words come out of her mouth, but once he did, there was nothing that kept him from letting her consume him. Ginny lay back down on the bed, and gently urged his hands to continue their path upward.
Draco’s warm palms skimmed up the outsides of her thighs, taking the dress with them. He slowly slipped the dress off the rest of the way, lighting her skin on fire with every new inch that he touched. Sensing her heat, he gently blew cool air in a trail from the top of her cleavage to the dip of her waist.
Readjusting his position, Draco placed one leg between hers, and lowered his body so his weight was balanced on his forearms on either side of her head. Ginny reached back and freed her hair from its clip. Holding the ornament in front of him, she smiled teasingly as though to challenge his choice in gifts.
“It’s very becoming on you,” he said in a tone that would have been conversational if she didn’t feel something pressing rather urgently into the side of her hip. Ginny lifted her upper body to kiss him gently in thanks. As she lay back down, the light caught on her pendant and Draco’s eyes instantly flitted to the valley between her breasts. Tracing the outline the pendant left on her skin with the back of his hand he noted, “It’s good to see it doesn’t work on me.”
“Of course not. Although,” Ginny giggled, “Colin did have a rather difficult time trying to make it through my office doorway earlier today.” Normally Ginny would have been slightly miffed that her joke was completely overlooked by him. Under the given circumstances, however, she was more than content to sacrifice her joke if it meant he would continue to remove her brassiere with his teeth. One of his hands slid down her body to tease the already wet folds below. Once his mouth followed, Ginny began to lose track of what happened in what order. She remembered screaming his name once, then while she was still swimming, feeling him enter. Draco filled her completely with himself, driving out all thoughts of anything that wasn’t him.
He set a maddeningly slow pace, placing open-mouthed kisses on every part of her body within reach. Aching to make him feel half as good as her, Ginny wrapped her legs around his waist and let her hands roam freely up and down his back.
“Just hearing those sounds you make is all the pleasure I need from you. Don’t stop now.” He emphasized his point with a particularly deep thrust, eliciting a heavy moan from her.
Ginny wasn’t sure when it happened. Somewhere between their sweaty bodies and lust-induced fog she had been in since he first turned to her in the kitchen, she had lost herself completely to Draco Malfoy. Draco was clutching her desperately to his chest. No longer able to keep up the slow pace, both their bodies were writhing and twisting in any attempt to get closer to each other than they already were. Ginny screamed as her orgasm shook her from head to toe, and Draco soon followed, shuddering with the force of his own orgasm.
Draco lay collapsed on top of her, and even though she knew that breathing was important, and rather difficult with a grown wizard lying across her body, Ginny was still reluctant to let him roll to her side. His absence wasn’t felt long though, as he pulled her body flush with his. Their noses were just barely touching and Ginny came back to Earth staring into Draco’s eyes.
“Ginny,” he rasped, “I won’t pretend that this is the first time I’ve dreamt of you in my bedroom. I won’t even pretend that this isn’t what I had hoped for when I called you over tonight.” Draco stopped and let out a well-refined smirk. “I must admit, I did expect to at least have eaten before - ” Draco stopped, his eyes going wide. The next thing Ginny knew, he was climbing over her to fly out the door and into the kitchen, any pretense of shame at his own nudity lost in his haste. Ginny sat up immediately, staring after the space in the doorway that once held Draco. She didn’t consider herself some kind of sexual goddess by any means, and she hadn’t had a lot of experience in the bed, but surely running out of the room as though your arse was on fire was not the expected reaction.
Before she could completely collect her thoughts, there was a loud crash sounding from the kitchen. Ginny hurriedly wrapped a sheet around her and went to investigate.
“Draco, is everything all right? I hope - ” No one would ever find out just what Ginny hoped for at that moment. She stopped short when she saw Draco on the floor cradling one hand, with an upturned pot of something brown, thick, and utterly unappetizing.
“I burned the pasta sauce. And I think I may have gotten my hand as well.”
One look at Draco’s now swelling hand that had grown an inch in every direction landed Ginny in the waiting room and Draco in a hospital bed at St. Mungo’s. With her head buried firmly in her hands, she tried to decipher her feelings. She would have to be delirious to admit that she had never been attracted to Draco. At the same time, he had always been her friend, and that element of mutual attraction had only added to their banter. But had their banter just been an outlet of sexual tension that built up over the last few years? Was tonight just the result of neither of them having anyone to warm their bed recently? Ginny couldn’t recall the last time Draco had told her about a romantic relationship, so she really wouldn’t know. Then again, Draco and she had never really discussed their love lives, outside of his mockery of her school-time crush on Harry Potter. Maybe their mutual neglect of each other’s relationships with other people was a sign that they wanted this friendship to be something more.
“Miss Weasley?” Ginny nearly jumped out of her skin when she felt someone gently nudge her. Looking up, she saw the medic smiling over her hunched form. “There’s someone that would like to see you now,” he told her gently.
Blindly following the medic, Ginny soon found herself standing at the foot of an empty bed.
“It seems that Mister Malfoy has just stepped into the loo,” the medic informed her, motioning towards the door in the corner. “You might as well wait here for him. I’ll return with his prescription for ointment, then he’ll be ready to leave.” The medic shut the door behind him, leaving Ginny and her nerves in a chair beside the bed.
Draco appeared in the room, grumbling something about only having one useable hand, and completely overlooked anyone else’s presence in the room. When he pulled the sheets back on the bed to crawl back in, he froze as his eyes alighted on Ginny.
“Hullo,” he said pleasantly, after a few seconds.
“Hullo, Draco,” Ginny responded, unsure of what was socially acceptable in a situation like this. “How are things?”
“Things?” Draco chuckled at her obvious nervousness. He let his eyes trail up and down her body, and smirked, “Things are well, I suppose. I’ve had a rather interesting evening. You?”
“It wasn’t bad,” she responded, catching on to the game. “Had dinner with a friend. Scratch that. Almost had dinner with a friend.”
“But you ended up doing something much better with someone much more than a friend, didn’t you?”
“Did I?” Suddenly the conversation had lost its playfulness.
“Come up here, Ginny.” He waited till she was lying on her side facing him before he continued, “When I first met you at Grimmauld Place, I couldn’t have cared less what you looked like or who you were. I felt broken. I didn’t think there was any hope for anything in the future. But then, for some strange and unknown reason, you extended your friendship to me. It might have started with us being the only ones willing to take care of Professor Snape, or it might have started with us trying to force your idiot brother to realize how hopelessly besotted he was with Granger. I honestly can’t remember anymore.” Ginny gasped at his echo of her own thoughts, but he continued without hearing her,
“It doesn’t even matter anymore. All that’s important is that these last three years have been torture for me.” Here, Ginny was utterly stunned. “I’ve tried to play the role of the platonic friend, but couldn’t even manage that without accidentally flirting with you. I don’t know what it is, but I’m just not built to be around you and not want to touch you. At the same time, I don’t even want to try to see what it would be like to not be around you.” Draco shifted so he was laying half on top of her before he went on with a smirk on his face, “So really, Gin, you don’t have much of a choice in the matter. I’m going to woo you persistently until you agree with everything I have to say about our relationship.”
“Shouldn’t the wooing be done before we start hopping into each other’s beds? Going about this a bit backwards, aren’t you, Malfoy?” Draco had just opened his mouth to respond when the door opened to let in the medic. Ginny squealed and tried to scramble away, but Draco was holding her fast to the bed. She managed to maneuver herself into a sitting position, and he pulled her into his lap.
“Er, yes, well, here’s a sample of ointment for your burn.” The medic placed the piece of parchment gingerly on the bed, trying to stay as far away from the cuddling couple as possible. “Your hand should be back to working condition after two applications.” The older man only blushed harder when he realized the implications of what he had just said. That Draco was grinning unabashedly and Ginny was hiding her head in her hands did not help matters. Once Ginny and Draco were alone again, Ginny immediately rounded on him.
“Draco you know I’m highly uncomfortable with public displays of affection! And before you start,” she spoke over his intake of breath, “that is not because I’ve only dated pillocks with whom I would be embarrassed to be associated. If you and I are going to pursue this relationship, there are some things you need to learn. First of all, I don’t need other people to see the way you touch me. Second of all, I need to sleep on the right side of the bed. The left side does nothing for me. Thirdly, I can’t sleep with even a single candle burning. And lastly,” she paused to push him back so he was lying facing upwards, and she was straddling his stomach, “you are never allowed near a kitchen again.” Draco reached up with his good hand and pulled her head down to crush her mouth against his. Holding her head close, he spoke against the skin of her neck,
“Time for my rules. First: I refuse to give anyone the false impression that you are anything but all mine. Second and third: you won’t be sleeping much when you’re in my bed. And lastly: I’ll require at least three children.” Ginny slipped her hands inside his hospital gown to bring him to full attention.
“Two boys. And a June wedding.”
“You’ll have a big fat ring that any bloke could spot from a mile away,” he muttered, concentrating his efforts on stroking her breasts through the fabric of her dress.
“I hope you realize, Draco,” Ginny giggled playfully, “that this means I own you for a week.”
“I hope you realize, Ginny,” Draco replied, imitating her words, but with no hint of playing on his face, “that this means you own me forever.”
Ginny bit her lip and thought that maybe searching for the beginning of her and Draco was futile. Maybe this was the beginning. Then she stopped thinking altogether, and just kissed him.
Author: ephemere13
Rating: R
Summary: Some stories don't have end. Just a new beginning.
A/N: Written for kates_lj, who requested a humurous HBP-compliant fic with much Draco/Ginny witty banter. Hopefully my wit meets the mark. The fact that this story got completed without killing itself is solely because of meera: best beta ever.
Arching her back, Ginny tried to work the kinks out of it. The events of the last few hours had really taken a toll on her muscles. She tried shifting her position, but the upholstered bench gave nothing more than the impression of comfort, despite its appearances. Ginny resisted the urge to uncross and recross her legs for about the fifth time in the last ten minutes. She resigned herself to the fact that there was nothing she could do to ease the sore she felt all over. The other witches and wizards in the waiting room were doing their best not to regard her with disdain, and Ginny was doing her best not to glare back at them. If they’d had a night like hers then surely they’d understand what she was going through.
“Miss?” the mediwitch called from behind the counter a few feet away. “Miss? With the red hair?” she tried again when she received no response.
Immediately recognizing herself as the only redhead in the small lobby, Ginny stood, perhaps too quickly for her own good. She slowly walked over to the counter, attempting to pass off her soreness for suaveness. After all, Draco never seemed to be in a rush (barring recent circumstances) and he always looked dignified. If he could pull it off, surely she could as well. Of course, once the mediwitch asked her if she was in need of a wheelchair, Ginny decided her image was probably the least of her concerns right now.
“I’m fine,” she assured the mediwitch upon arriving at the counter emblazoned with the St. Mungo’s insignia. “What can you tell me about Draco?”
“You’ll have to ask the medic about his patient. I just need you to fill out some paperwork for me,” came the response from across the counter. The mediwitch looked up and gave Ginny a calculating look. She took in her disheveled appearance, and the look of consternation Ginny was wearing in attempts to seem cool and collected, and changed her mind. The mediwitch informed her in slow and deliberate words that she would fill out the paperwork for her, and could Ginny please answer some simple questions?
When Ginny nodded, the mediwitch gave her the kind of indulging smile that Mrs. Weasley usually reserved for her best-behaved grandchild that would soon reap the biggest piece of pie. Not quite sure of what her accomplishment was to receive such a beatific smile, Ginny simply waited patiently for the mediwitch to ask her questions.
“Relation to the patient?” the older witch voiced.
“Pardon?” the panicked look in Ginny’s face clearly stated that she had never once considered defining her relationship with Draco.
“Miss, how are you related to the patient?”
“Oh dear, I don’t think I’m related to Draco. Although, well, there was that one tapestry we found at Gri - er, some place - that said something about Draco’s mum and my mum and a few generations back, but I hardly think that’s enough to consider him an actual relative. After all he’s most definitely not a brother or a cousin or anything of the sort.” Ginny let out a nervous chuckle before continuing, “That would definitely make our most recent situation slightly awkward. Well, more than just slightly awkward if you think about how many brothers I do have. I suppose the only other way we could be related would be legally, then? Merlin knows we’re not anywhere near married yet. Not to say that we will be one day. Then again, that’s not to say that we never will be. In fact, I don’t even know if you could call us lovers. I mean, doesn’t that imply some kind of ongoing - er - and not just the once…well, you see, ma’am, I really don’t think it’s appropriate for me to be discussing mine and Draco’s relationship with you before I actually discuss it with him. Provided that we do discuss it, and that there is a relationship to discuss,” she added as an afterthought. Several seconds passed in utter silence, in which the mediwitch stared at Ginny with a mixture of exasperation and pure awe at encountering such a character as Ginny Weasley.
“I’ll just put down that you’re a friend, then.”
“Friend. Yes. First and foremost, a friend. Yes, of course. That is how it all started, isn’t it?” It was apparent to both the mediwitch and Ginny that she was speaking more to herself than to anyone else. After answering a few more questions regarding how the cost of the hospital stay would be covered (“Honestly, you’re housing Draco Malfoy, and you’re worried about monetary compensation?”), if there would be someone to take him home when he was ready (“I suppose he’d want me to take him home. Although for probably entirely different reasons than you’re thinking.”), and if there was any member of the family that he would like informed (“That’s probably the easiest question you’ve asked me. No.”)
Ginny took her seat again, trying to ignore the prickling in her eyes that told her how tired she was. She leaned forward to rest her elbows on her knees and press the heels of her hands into her eyes. First and foremost, a friend. Yes, that is definitely how this all started, she thought to herself.
Of course, one could argue it really all began when one Tom Riddle got the idea to collect as much power as he could. But then, almost any part of the Wizarding World today could be traced back to such a moment. One could also argue that it all began when one Lucius Malfoy pledged his allegiance to a Dark Lord respected by some, and feared by all. Or one could equally argue that it all began when one Draco Malfoy lowered his wand when faced with the task of slaying his Headmaster. Wherever it was that everything began, and wherever it is that everything stood now, one thing Ginny was sure of was how much a part of her life Draco Malfoy had really become.
After the infamous raid on Hogwarts by the Deatheaters, the world as Ginny and her friends knew it was turned upside down. Everything happened in such a blur for her that even now, three years later she could barely keep the events straight without asking Hermione for help. Despite everything, she could only remember the past in snippets of events, and even those snippets changed each time she tried to remember. She and Harry were no longer allowed to love each other. Snape was discovered as a double agent. Ron, Hermione and Harry found the Horcruxes. Narcissa Malfoy and her son showed up at Grimmauld Place seeking sanctuary. Lucius Malfoy was discovered dead, murdered by Deatheaters. Harry faced Voldemort in the battle that would end them all.
In the midst of all of this Ginny had managed to find comfortable ground with Draco. Whether they discovered each other while jointly tending to Professor Snape’s wounds, or whether they discovered each other while pretending not to purposely force Hermione and Ron into embarrassing situations (the fact that Hermione had mistakenly thought the shower was empty and walked in on Ron could hardly be blamed on either Draco or Ginny), somewhere along the line a friendship had formed. So how did Ginny end up here, in the waiting room at St. Mungo’s, waiting, as it were, for Draco to be declared uninjured and perfectly capable of continuing his earlier acts of lovemaking?
Ginny supposed the change in her and Draco’s interactions was probably a result of the so-called incident from a week before. Draco had agreed to attend a society function hosted by the owner of a company he wished to acquire, Roofus Cottingly. Of course the invitation had required a date. As he was currently running short on arm-candy, Draco informed Ginny that she would have to suffice. This wouldn’t have been a problem had it not been for Cottingly’s automatic assumption that Ginny was Draco’s secret fiancée.
“Come now, Weasley,” Draco had said, “surely it wouldn’t kill you to pretend to be my fiancée for one evening. If you do a good job, I might be inclined to consummate this relationship later on tonight,” he had finished with a smirk that probably should have been registered as a deadly weapon.
“Careful, Malfoy. You don’t want to get too fresh with me, or I might be inclined to leave you at the altar.” She plucked a champagne flute from a passing tray and raised an eyebrow in challenge.
“I’d probably be better off if you did leave me. Merlin knows our house would be crawling with little pink-haired brats, if your mother’s fertility is any indication.” Ginny had just been about to respond with something to the effect of where he could take his pink-haired babies and stick them, when they were suddenly interrupted.
“AH, YOUNG LOVE!” A booming voice sounded from their left. Spinning, Ginny and Draco saw their suspiciously rosy-cheeked host rapidly approaching them. “Oh, how I love young couples in love!”
Draco was uncharacteristically fascinated by the way the other man’s double chin shook ever so slightly when he laughed, and so Ginny took the lead, melding her body into Draco’s side. She felt Draco stiffen then quickly wrap an arm around her waist.
“Oh, that just warms an old man’s heart,” Cottingly continued. “Give us a kiss, why don’t you?”
Draco, still stunned by the sudden outburst and probably over influenced by champagne, leaned forward and placed a gentle but firm kiss on the older man’s cheek.
“Erm, Draco,” Ginny murmured hesitantly through Cottingly’s raucous laughter, “I think he meant us.”
“Damned if I’m going to let him lay his lips on my fiancée!” Draco responded in an elevated whisper.
“No, Draco, he meant you and me, you great pillock!” She ended up shouting the last words, entirely too fed up with Draco’s oblivious behavior.
Suddenly nearly half the ballroom was staring at the three of them, trying to decide who was more entertaining to watch: their tottering host, the profusely blushing redhead, or the still half-stunned half-scowling blond millionaire. The silence continued into the next second, and both Ginny and Draco began to panic. Perhaps as a product of being friends for so long, or perhaps because of Cottingly’s obnoxious remarks, the same idea occurred to both of them, and before long they had met half way in an anxious kiss. It was awkward at first, with Draco trying to tilt his head down to meet hers, and Ginny trying to lean in without spilling her champagne glass. Draco shifted, though, and all of a sudden the angle of the kiss changed to something altogether indescribable. Sighing into each other’s mouths, they instantly recovered their grace. There was a tingling in the pit of Ginny’s stomach that she was sure had nothing at all to do with the champagne she had been drinking, but most probably more to do with the circles Draco was drawing on the small of her back.
Just as he was about trail his hand up in her hair, horror infused his system when he felt something trickle down the inside of his leg. Refusing to open his eyes and possibly recognize that for the first time in his life Draco Malfoy had been unable to exercise appropriate self-control (that one time in his fifth year with the Arithmancy tutor did not count), he froze. Ginny however, managed to push him away and sheepishly point out that she had spilled her champagne on his Italian-tailored robes. Expecting some kind of snarky comment about her upbringing or at least a scowl, she had been slightly surprised when all he did was thank whatever deities were watching him that night.
The rest of the evening had passed without much ceremony. Draco and Ginny had managed to avoid more embarrassing situations with Cottingly, although that was probably due to his discovery of a group of less than tastefully dressed young women. As for herself, Ginny had turned into a bundle of nerves. She couldn’t tell if she was actually walking into Draco more than usual, or if she was just noticing it more, but either way, ever time her hand accidentally brushed against his she felt a quiver up her arm. And when he led her by the waist towards the coat check, she nearly lost her breath. The look he gave her after he had walked her to her front door left her reaching for the wall, because her knees couldn’t be trusted to provide adequate support.
“You know, Weasley, we’ve done a lot of things together, haven’t we?” At her nod, he continued, “tonight, however, was definitely a first.”
“Yeah, I hardly would have imagined myself going to some social party with Draco Malfoy, pretending to be his fiancée.”
“What else haven’t we done together?” Draco seemed to be speaking to her, but something about the way he was talking made her feel as though he would have said the same words even if she weren’t there. It sounded almost rehearsed. “You’ve never tasted my cooking.” Hearing his last words immediately pulled Ginny out of the clouds she had been floating on since she first saw him arrive to collect her for their evening together.
“That’s probably because you’ve never cooked a day in your life,” she managed to get out between her muffled attempts at hiding her laughter.
“Let’s make a wager, you and me. I’ll cook dinner for you a week from tomorrow. If you don’t find the meal satisfactory, I’ll be your slave for a week. If it does stand up to your mark however, you get to be my slave for a week.” Something about his grin told Ginny that he wouldn’t have at all been displeased with either outcome. She tucked herself into bed that night, firmly convinced that something was off with the universe. She assured herself that come Monday, everything would return to normal. Only that wasn’t the case.
Ginny had just finished a long lunch with Hermione when she was walking back to her Ministry desk. The girls had rejoiced over the newest addition to the Weasley family that Hermione would be bringing forth in nine months. As she approached the door to her office, Ginny saw the back of Draco’s head disappear around a corner. She briefly debated the merits of chasing after him, but decided that she might come across as slightly desperate to determine who would be whose slave, come Friday. Not that she was actually looking forward to either outcome. Really.
It was never a big surprise to see Draco haunting the halls of the Ministry. Given his wealth and subsequent power, he often took an active role in all sorts of legislation, although it had taken quite a bit of work on his part to exonerate himself of his father’s sins. What was a big surprise for Ginny was reaching over to her in “in-box” and stopping short when she saw a small box wrapped in silver paper in the center of her desk.
Tearing open the packaging revealed an elegant silver chain with a smooth hunk of black stone hanging from it. Ginny instantly recognized the stone as magically enhanced obsidian that Draco had told her protects against unwelcome intruders. She could almost hear Draco’s voice in her head: “If you want Creevey to stop begging ‘round for a date, you should do something about it.” The rest of the week passed in much the same vein. By Friday, Ginny had a diamond-studded hair clip (“Would it kill you to put that infernal mass of hair up at least on a windy day? As much I like you, I generally don’t enjoy the taste of hair.”); a set of silver-tipped quills (“I might actually have to invest in a set of reading glasses just to decipher the smudges in all your owls. Don’t you have any fine-tipped quills?”); a pair of white gold hoops to replace the pair she had lost one night when she had crashed on his couch; and a leather-bound journal with silken pages of parchment (“You should treat yourself like a queen, Weasley. If you must write down your thoughts, you at least owe it to yourself to write in something decent-looking.”).
Ginny piled all of her gifts on her desk Friday afternoon before she left to go home. She stared at the pile for the better part of an hour, just trying to come to grips with it all.
The product of all of this was an anxious Weasley holding a bottle of white wine trying not to splinch herself. The pendant was comfortably settled between her breasts and her hair was twisted up into the clip. When she arrived at his flat, she found the door open and walked straight in to the currently empty dining room. She peeked through the open counter dividing the dining room from the kitchen, and seeing no one, decided to take a look around. The room was lit with candles of various shapes and sizes, all exuding a scent that Ginny couldn’t quite place, but was content to just enjoy. Somewhere in the world pigs had just sprouted wings, and she was fairly certain that her best friend Draco Malfoy, voted most eligible bachelor by Witch Weekly three years in a row, was trying to court her.
The noises filtering from the kitchen, however, distracted her. Placing the bottle of wine on the table, she smoothed her dress down with clammy hands. Soon finding that her hands itched to do something, however, she picked up the bottle of wine and went to join him in the kitchen. Suddenly, dinner with Draco seemed so much more nerve-wracking than she had planned. The whole point of doing this was to have a casual dinner between friends, wasn’t it? Except, somehow it had become something entirely different. As soon as Draco heard footsteps behind him, he looked up from the pot he was in the middle of charming.
“Weasley,” he said pleasantly, “you’re early.”
“Am I?” Ginny’s voice was barely above a harsh whisper. Something about the atmosphere tonight put her completely on edge. Granted this was her best friend, but she suddenly forgot how to be around him at all. There must have been something in the air. But then why wasn’t he affected like she was? Sure, he seemed happy enough to see her, but where was the confusion she was suffering? Pushing through the fog in her mind, Ginny asked, “What time is it?”
“It doesn’t matter. I just thought I’d point out that you came early. I’d also like to take the opportunity to point out that I have never come early, neither do I plan on it at any time in the future.” If Draco was anxious that she fully understood this, Ginny didn’t notice.
“And I would need to know this because…” Ginny teased. She started to find comfortable ground again, and was pleased to see him smirking back at her.
“Just making sure you realized, in case it becomes an issue when you have to do my bidding for a week.”
“Rather confident, aren’t we, Malfoy?”
“And why not? Come taste this sauce. You’ll understand.” Draco beckoned to her with a tilt of his head, and Ginny was thankful that enough blood had returned to her knees to let her walk to the stirring pot.
Standing over the pot, Draco coated a fingertip with the rich tomato sauce, and held it to her lips to taste. Even if she were threatened under wand-point to mere inches of her life, Ginny wouldn’t have been able to recall what she tasted. All she knew was that nothing could ever be the same between her and Draco again; not after feeling the energy she felt now. Locked in his gaze, Ginny vaguely acknowledged that her head was swimming. Why am I so dizzy? It was only when she saw his eyes darken that she realized she had spoken the words out loud.
“Maybe it’s the wine,” he whispered, moving closer to her.
“We haven’t popped the cork yet.”
“Maybe not, then.”
And then there were no more words.
From the moment that Draco’s mouth descended on Ginny’s, there wasn’t a single beat that passed without them touching each other. They had stumbled their way to the bedroom, both vaguely aware that it was a miracle they hadn’t shed their clothes right into the pot of pasta sauce. Draco pulled her close and trailed his mouth across the deep neck of her cocktail dress.
“Undress me, Weasley,” he commanded in a low growl. Not one for argument, Ginny reached forward and began to slip each button out of its hole, mesmerized by the new expanses of skin suddenly at her mercy. When she pulled the shirttails out of his trousers, she looked up into his face, and was suddenly struck speechless. The emotion in his eyes told her something heartwarming and overwhelmingly frightening at the same time.
Taking advantage of her momentary distraction, Draco ran his fingertips along the edges of her face before taking her chin in his hand. He dipped his head slowly and tentatively touched her lips with his. When she melted into him, he lifted her by the waist and deposited her in the middle of the bed.
Draco discarded his open shirt, and stood over the side of the bed, looking down at her. Ginny watched the muscles in his arms bunch and release as he slipped his belt through the belt loops, and was fascinated by how much he resembled something out of Greek mythology. Itching for his presence, she tried to reach out and hurry him along, but her hand was only slapped away.
“Now is not the time for haste, my pet.” His voice washed over her in waves of silky pleasure. “Tonight we explore,” he began, shedding his trousers as he spoke. “Tonight we learn.” His boxers soon followed. “Tonight,” he paused, crawling up on the bed to sit half over her, “you let me love you the way you’ve always wanted to be loved.” His hands were comfortably resting just under the hem of her dress, and Ginny was nearly squirming at his immobility. Suddenly realizing that he was waiting for her permission, Ginny hauled herself up so they were at eye level.
“No one knows me better than you, Draco,” she breathed. “You’ve never once had to ask me my thoughts to know them. Don’t ask me now.”
“I know, Ginny, but - ” he cut himself off when Ginny raised two fingers to his lips.
“Don’t stop.” He almost had to strain to hear the words come out of her mouth, but once he did, there was nothing that kept him from letting her consume him. Ginny lay back down on the bed, and gently urged his hands to continue their path upward.
Draco’s warm palms skimmed up the outsides of her thighs, taking the dress with them. He slowly slipped the dress off the rest of the way, lighting her skin on fire with every new inch that he touched. Sensing her heat, he gently blew cool air in a trail from the top of her cleavage to the dip of her waist.
Readjusting his position, Draco placed one leg between hers, and lowered his body so his weight was balanced on his forearms on either side of her head. Ginny reached back and freed her hair from its clip. Holding the ornament in front of him, she smiled teasingly as though to challenge his choice in gifts.
“It’s very becoming on you,” he said in a tone that would have been conversational if she didn’t feel something pressing rather urgently into the side of her hip. Ginny lifted her upper body to kiss him gently in thanks. As she lay back down, the light caught on her pendant and Draco’s eyes instantly flitted to the valley between her breasts. Tracing the outline the pendant left on her skin with the back of his hand he noted, “It’s good to see it doesn’t work on me.”
“Of course not. Although,” Ginny giggled, “Colin did have a rather difficult time trying to make it through my office doorway earlier today.” Normally Ginny would have been slightly miffed that her joke was completely overlooked by him. Under the given circumstances, however, she was more than content to sacrifice her joke if it meant he would continue to remove her brassiere with his teeth. One of his hands slid down her body to tease the already wet folds below. Once his mouth followed, Ginny began to lose track of what happened in what order. She remembered screaming his name once, then while she was still swimming, feeling him enter. Draco filled her completely with himself, driving out all thoughts of anything that wasn’t him.
He set a maddeningly slow pace, placing open-mouthed kisses on every part of her body within reach. Aching to make him feel half as good as her, Ginny wrapped her legs around his waist and let her hands roam freely up and down his back.
“Just hearing those sounds you make is all the pleasure I need from you. Don’t stop now.” He emphasized his point with a particularly deep thrust, eliciting a heavy moan from her.
Ginny wasn’t sure when it happened. Somewhere between their sweaty bodies and lust-induced fog she had been in since he first turned to her in the kitchen, she had lost herself completely to Draco Malfoy. Draco was clutching her desperately to his chest. No longer able to keep up the slow pace, both their bodies were writhing and twisting in any attempt to get closer to each other than they already were. Ginny screamed as her orgasm shook her from head to toe, and Draco soon followed, shuddering with the force of his own orgasm.
Draco lay collapsed on top of her, and even though she knew that breathing was important, and rather difficult with a grown wizard lying across her body, Ginny was still reluctant to let him roll to her side. His absence wasn’t felt long though, as he pulled her body flush with his. Their noses were just barely touching and Ginny came back to Earth staring into Draco’s eyes.
“Ginny,” he rasped, “I won’t pretend that this is the first time I’ve dreamt of you in my bedroom. I won’t even pretend that this isn’t what I had hoped for when I called you over tonight.” Draco stopped and let out a well-refined smirk. “I must admit, I did expect to at least have eaten before - ” Draco stopped, his eyes going wide. The next thing Ginny knew, he was climbing over her to fly out the door and into the kitchen, any pretense of shame at his own nudity lost in his haste. Ginny sat up immediately, staring after the space in the doorway that once held Draco. She didn’t consider herself some kind of sexual goddess by any means, and she hadn’t had a lot of experience in the bed, but surely running out of the room as though your arse was on fire was not the expected reaction.
Before she could completely collect her thoughts, there was a loud crash sounding from the kitchen. Ginny hurriedly wrapped a sheet around her and went to investigate.
“Draco, is everything all right? I hope - ” No one would ever find out just what Ginny hoped for at that moment. She stopped short when she saw Draco on the floor cradling one hand, with an upturned pot of something brown, thick, and utterly unappetizing.
“I burned the pasta sauce. And I think I may have gotten my hand as well.”
One look at Draco’s now swelling hand that had grown an inch in every direction landed Ginny in the waiting room and Draco in a hospital bed at St. Mungo’s. With her head buried firmly in her hands, she tried to decipher her feelings. She would have to be delirious to admit that she had never been attracted to Draco. At the same time, he had always been her friend, and that element of mutual attraction had only added to their banter. But had their banter just been an outlet of sexual tension that built up over the last few years? Was tonight just the result of neither of them having anyone to warm their bed recently? Ginny couldn’t recall the last time Draco had told her about a romantic relationship, so she really wouldn’t know. Then again, Draco and she had never really discussed their love lives, outside of his mockery of her school-time crush on Harry Potter. Maybe their mutual neglect of each other’s relationships with other people was a sign that they wanted this friendship to be something more.
“Miss Weasley?” Ginny nearly jumped out of her skin when she felt someone gently nudge her. Looking up, she saw the medic smiling over her hunched form. “There’s someone that would like to see you now,” he told her gently.
Blindly following the medic, Ginny soon found herself standing at the foot of an empty bed.
“It seems that Mister Malfoy has just stepped into the loo,” the medic informed her, motioning towards the door in the corner. “You might as well wait here for him. I’ll return with his prescription for ointment, then he’ll be ready to leave.” The medic shut the door behind him, leaving Ginny and her nerves in a chair beside the bed.
Draco appeared in the room, grumbling something about only having one useable hand, and completely overlooked anyone else’s presence in the room. When he pulled the sheets back on the bed to crawl back in, he froze as his eyes alighted on Ginny.
“Hullo,” he said pleasantly, after a few seconds.
“Hullo, Draco,” Ginny responded, unsure of what was socially acceptable in a situation like this. “How are things?”
“Things?” Draco chuckled at her obvious nervousness. He let his eyes trail up and down her body, and smirked, “Things are well, I suppose. I’ve had a rather interesting evening. You?”
“It wasn’t bad,” she responded, catching on to the game. “Had dinner with a friend. Scratch that. Almost had dinner with a friend.”
“But you ended up doing something much better with someone much more than a friend, didn’t you?”
“Did I?” Suddenly the conversation had lost its playfulness.
“Come up here, Ginny.” He waited till she was lying on her side facing him before he continued, “When I first met you at Grimmauld Place, I couldn’t have cared less what you looked like or who you were. I felt broken. I didn’t think there was any hope for anything in the future. But then, for some strange and unknown reason, you extended your friendship to me. It might have started with us being the only ones willing to take care of Professor Snape, or it might have started with us trying to force your idiot brother to realize how hopelessly besotted he was with Granger. I honestly can’t remember anymore.” Ginny gasped at his echo of her own thoughts, but he continued without hearing her,
“It doesn’t even matter anymore. All that’s important is that these last three years have been torture for me.” Here, Ginny was utterly stunned. “I’ve tried to play the role of the platonic friend, but couldn’t even manage that without accidentally flirting with you. I don’t know what it is, but I’m just not built to be around you and not want to touch you. At the same time, I don’t even want to try to see what it would be like to not be around you.” Draco shifted so he was laying half on top of her before he went on with a smirk on his face, “So really, Gin, you don’t have much of a choice in the matter. I’m going to woo you persistently until you agree with everything I have to say about our relationship.”
“Shouldn’t the wooing be done before we start hopping into each other’s beds? Going about this a bit backwards, aren’t you, Malfoy?” Draco had just opened his mouth to respond when the door opened to let in the medic. Ginny squealed and tried to scramble away, but Draco was holding her fast to the bed. She managed to maneuver herself into a sitting position, and he pulled her into his lap.
“Er, yes, well, here’s a sample of ointment for your burn.” The medic placed the piece of parchment gingerly on the bed, trying to stay as far away from the cuddling couple as possible. “Your hand should be back to working condition after two applications.” The older man only blushed harder when he realized the implications of what he had just said. That Draco was grinning unabashedly and Ginny was hiding her head in her hands did not help matters. Once Ginny and Draco were alone again, Ginny immediately rounded on him.
“Draco you know I’m highly uncomfortable with public displays of affection! And before you start,” she spoke over his intake of breath, “that is not because I’ve only dated pillocks with whom I would be embarrassed to be associated. If you and I are going to pursue this relationship, there are some things you need to learn. First of all, I don’t need other people to see the way you touch me. Second of all, I need to sleep on the right side of the bed. The left side does nothing for me. Thirdly, I can’t sleep with even a single candle burning. And lastly,” she paused to push him back so he was lying facing upwards, and she was straddling his stomach, “you are never allowed near a kitchen again.” Draco reached up with his good hand and pulled her head down to crush her mouth against his. Holding her head close, he spoke against the skin of her neck,
“Time for my rules. First: I refuse to give anyone the false impression that you are anything but all mine. Second and third: you won’t be sleeping much when you’re in my bed. And lastly: I’ll require at least three children.” Ginny slipped her hands inside his hospital gown to bring him to full attention.
“Two boys. And a June wedding.”
“You’ll have a big fat ring that any bloke could spot from a mile away,” he muttered, concentrating his efforts on stroking her breasts through the fabric of her dress.
“I hope you realize, Draco,” Ginny giggled playfully, “that this means I own you for a week.”
“I hope you realize, Ginny,” Draco replied, imitating her words, but with no hint of playing on his face, “that this means you own me forever.”
Ginny bit her lip and thought that maybe searching for the beginning of her and Draco was futile. Maybe this was the beginning. Then she stopped thinking altogether, and just kissed him.