♥ "Come With Me" for the dgfciexchange ♥
Title: Come With Me
Author: blithelybonny
Rating: Mature
Possible Spoilers/Warnings: Non-magic AU. Infidelity. Harry/Ginny to start. Drug use.
Author's Notes: The header quote comes from the song “All Along the Watchtower” originally by Bob Dylan, but covered appropriately for the time period by Jimi Hendrix. Thanks to my rapid-fire beta reader, Pearl. She rocks. Any mistakes are mine and not hers.
Summary: During the Vietnam War, with her fiancé Harry Potter overseas bringing democracy and being a hero, Ginny Weasley takes solace in the friendship (if you can call it that) of Draco Malfoy. But when the war threatens to take him too, she makes a decision that has serious consequences for all three of them.
Come With Me
There must be some kind of way out of here,
said the joker to the thief.
There’s too much confusion.
I can’t get no relief.
--- --- ---
“So you’re serious, huh?”
“About what?” Ginny finishes rolling the joint with the kind of ease that only a true expert possesses.
Draco lounges luxuriously on the outdoor sofa, twiddling a pencil in his fingers as he waits for her to finish. “About marrying the Boy Wonder when he gets back from Bringing Democracy to the Vietnamese,” he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
A small amused noise escapes her throat, as she passes the cigarette to him. “Yes, of course. He asked, I love him, I accepted … usually after such a chain of events, the two people involved do end up getting married.”
“Of course,” he continues, “your little plan for domestic bliss hinges entirely on whether or not he comes back.”
Ginny freezes, her hackles immediately up. “Not funny.”
He sits forward a little, leaning up to her. “Wasn’t trying to be funny.”
She whirls on him in her seat then, her face inches from his. “Don’t you dare make jokes. Don’t you dare.
Draco then leans forward further, and when he speaks, his lips brush softly against hers, ever-so-slightly. “Don’t tell me it hasn’t crossed your mind from time to time, little girl. What are you going to do when the United States government knocks on your door with a telegram?”
She wants to slap him. She wants to scream and cuss him out. Instead, she crushes her lips against his. His hands come up to cup her face before slipping down her sides to her waist, and she aggressively parts his lips with her tongue. It sickens her how right he was - it’s been so long since Harry left, and she’s craved something, anything that even remotely feels like intimacy. So maybe it’s wrong. Maybe it’s incredibly, seriously wrong, but it feels right, and better than that, it feels good.
She presses him against the high back of the loveseat, orders him not to move, and then straddles his lap before removing her blouse and tossing it behind her. His hands come up and cup her breasts, gently massaging her with seeming expertness. She grinds her hips against his pelvis, relishing the groan of pleasure that escapes his lips. She can feel just how badly he wants her, and she wants to give herself to him.
“Draco,” she murmurs, with an unforgiving roll of her hips, “I want you. I want you so badly.”
He raises a pale eyebrow doubtfully. “Are you sure?”
“GINNY! GIIIIIIIIN! GINEVRA MOLLY WEASLEY, I WILL NOT CALL YOU AGAIN!”
Ginny jerked awake at the shrill tone of her mother’s voice. She took a moment to recognize where she was, safe in her own bed and certainly not in the lap of her boyfriend’s sworn enemy. The little puddle of drool on her pillow, however, testified to just how mouth-watering her naughty dream had been, but the redheaded young woman groaned audibly, frustrated and embarrassed - and not because she’d woken up before the good part started, of course! Rather, she was frustrated because this was the fifth night in a row that she’d woken up from a sex dream about Draco Malfoy and embarrassed because she was actually aroused by a sex dream about Draco Malfoy. It could only happen so often before she would be forced to think that there was something to it.
She blamed it entirely on the fact that since Harry had gone off to fight his war, Draco had taken the opportunity to ingratiate himself into her life in the most blatant display of ruthless seduction that she had ever seen in her short twenty years. Every day, he showed up at the Burger Barn where she had gotten a part-time job and leaned over the counter with his beautiful gray eyes and spat some ridiculous insult about her family or about her fiancé and practically begged her, therefore, to sit up and take notice of just how criminally handsome he was.
The redhead groaned as she got out of bed and headed down the hallway to the shower, pausing only momentarily to shout down the stairs to her mom that she was finally awake. In the bathroom, she turned the hot water on, slipped out of her nightgown, and got into the shower, immediately grateful for the heat. It was just starting to get chilly outside, and Chicago was well-known for its harsh winters.
The heat of the water served to wake her up and give her a bit of perspective. Perhaps she was being a little too harsh on Draco. It had to be a rough life for the privileged young man; choosing which of his four horses to take to the polo match was such a thankless chore. Clearly, he suffered the same hardships that most people suffered, especially her Harry and the rest of the boys who were off fighting for their country. So it wasn’t really his fault that he’d chosen to focus on her to get over all the horrible things he had to deal with on a day-to-day basis.
After about twenty minutes of scrubbing away the dirty, guilty feeling she had from the naughty dream, Ginny turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, and immediately wrapped herself in a towel not a moment too soon.
Her brother Ron stormed into the bathroom. “You better not have used up all the hot water,” he said, practically shoving her out of the way and towards the door.
“Oh my God, Ron, can I get dressed first?”
“No, I have to get to work. Move it, I’m gonna be late,” he replied, and swiftly shut the door in her face.
“GINNY, YOU’RE GOING TO BE LATE FOR WORK!”
The shout came from downstairs again no sooner had she raised her fist to pound on the door. With a sigh of frustration, Ginny padded back down the hallway to her bedroom to get dressed. Honestly, she was in no mood for this today. It was days like these when she couldn’t wait for Harry to come home from Vietnam so that they could just get married already, and she could move out of her house and get some privacy for once.
--- --- ---
Draco Malfoy entered the Burger Barn without the usual swagger in his step, and Ginny couldn’t help but notice. Of course, she had spent months studying his particular way of moving - not because she was interested, but because he had a stupid way about him that was decidedly impossible to ignore. Still, she affixed her plastic Burger Barn grin, with just the right hint of disdain for his very presence, and asked, as he stepped up to the counter, “Welcome to Burger Barn, can I take your order?”
He leaned on the counter, with practiced disinterest. “Weasley,” he greeted, his voice low and drawling in a way that made her want to reach out and slap him - and immediately as the thought crossed her mind, a soft blush crept up her cheeks, as she recalled the sensual dream she’d had the night before. “You should blush more often,” he added, taking in her discomfort. “It suits you.”
“What do you want, Malfoy?” she asked, dropping her eyes to the register.
“I need something from you,” he said, lowering his voice again.
Her eyes widened a little, but she refused to look up, afraid that she would betray herself as much more embarrassed than she actually was. But honestly, that low voice did it to her every single time - whether it was in real life, or only in her dreams. Dear God, Harry needed to get some leave immediately, or she was going to have to take drastic action, if starting to feel hot and bothered by Malfoy of all people was any indication of how hard up she was.
“What can I get for you today?” she then asked, trying to remain professional.
Draco looked around, appearing to make sure that no one was in earshot. He then leaned forward more and caught her eyes. “I’ve heard rumors about your connections, and I need to take advantage of them.”
Ginny said nothing for a moment, trying to gauge whether or not he was serious. She decided to play it safe. “I’m not sure what you mean,” she answered cautiously, looking into his eyes, all traces of her embarrassment starting to subside.
“I think you do,” he replied, raising a pale-blond eyebrow suggestively. “You know I’ve got the money, and I know you’ve got the goods…and I’m sure it’s more than obvious that I’m not a cop, Weasley.”
She knew exactly what he was talking about, of course. In spite of her determination to keep her pool of clients as close and small as possible, word tended to get out. Yet, Ginny did not want to share her wealth with Draco Malfoy, not when she knew that he could probably get it on his own anyway, and this was obviously just some kind of ploy to get her in trouble…or some kind of ploy to get close to her and under her skin more than he already did.
And yet -
“My shift ends at six tonight. Meet me at the St. Ferd’s playground.”
--- --- ---
St. Ferdinand Elementary had always acted as the hangout for local teenagers, and ever since the draft had been reinstated and teenagers needed to vent their frustrations about the war that was rapidly turning into a total quagmire, the playground was often filled to capacity with college students preparing protest signs, playing music, and getting high. Ginny liked to do all her business there, as it was easier to get lost among the crowd if the cops ever came calling.
She sat down on the furthest-left swing on the larger swing-set and waited for Draco to arrive, praying that she wouldn’t regret this - and also praying that she wouldn’t succumb to the awkward desire she’d had since she spoke with him earlier to try and fulfill the dream she’d had. It was such a stupid and random thought, and she honestly didn’t know why she kept imagining what it would be like to take him somewhere, get him high, and strip him down to his skivvies. Really, she was clearly just missing Harry, and Draco Malfoy was the only even remotely attractive male she’d seen in months. Yes, that had to be it.
Lost in her own thoughts, she didn’t notice when he came and sat down in the swing next to hers.
“Weasley,” he greeted evenly, startling her. “Have you been dipping into your own stash? You’re paranoid.” He chuckled lightly.
Ginny frowned, but turned her head to him to regard him. “So this isn’t a big ruse, is it? You’re serious about … well, you know,” she said.
He nodded. “No games. I’m in need of a little … mellowing, I guess? Things have gotten a little too real lately.”
“What do you mean by that?” she asked, beginning to swing back and forth a bit. He joined her after a moment, but said nothing. “Malfoy,” she added impatiently, “I don’t have all day.”
He opened his mouth to answer, but before he could say anything, a shout broke out a little further into the playground.
“IT’S THE COPS, MOVE IT!”
Ginny knew that she and Draco had nothing to fear, regardless of the fact that the cops were around. She hadn’t actually brought her stash with her because she genuinely thought that Draco was playing her. Of course, that brought up all sorts of interesting questions as to why she had still asked him to meet her. But she hadn’t the time to think about it now. Now, they needed to move or they were going to be dragged down with all the rest of the wannabe hippies. So she reached out and grabbed his hand - not because she wanted to, but because she had to get him to come with her - NOT that she wanted him to come with her …
“Ginny Weasley, you are fucked,” she murmured to herself, as she launched herself out of the swing, hand clasped tightly in his. “Come with me. I know a safe place.”
--- --- ---
The club-house had been in their backyard since long before Ginny was born. Her oldest brother Bill had nicknamed it “The Burrow” when he was a kid, and the name had stuck through the years, even though the little one-room hut looked almost nothing like a burrow at all. Now that all of them had moved out of the house, except for herself and Ron, it was like a nice little sanctuary for Ginny. It was also where she stashed the pot she and her friend Neville grew at Neville’s greenhouse.
And it was also where she and Harry used to hide out together before he’d shipped off to Vietnam, but somehow it didn’t matter to her that it was supposed to be their special place. She took Draco Malfoy there anyway. It was safe there, at least.
“It’s not much,” she said, by way of introduction, as they entered the room. It contained a table and a couple of chairs, a mattress in one corner, and a small chest that contained her stash. “But I like it here.”
Draco was less than impressed. With a raised eyebrow, he regarded the small room before turning to her haughtily. “It’s a dump, but I guess I shouldn’t expect too much. You can barely afford to keep that ramshackle house of yours in order, right?”
“Shut up, Malfoy!” she quickly spat back. So there it was, finally, and the reminder couldn’t possibly have come fast enough. All right, so sometimes he was slightly sensitive, and yes, he was incredibly handsome, and maybe he was a little bit funny, as well, and the months of having him come in to the restaurant and bother her had been fun in a this-feels-kinda-wrong way - yes, Draco Malfoy was pretty great, all things considered.
But he was such an incredible asshole!
He surprised her then, though. The words she never thought she would ever hear, in any sort of sincere manner, came from his lips so effortlessly, she could have sworn she was still dreaming from the night before.
“Sorry … I’m sorry.”
Ginny was flabbergasted. “I’m sorry, what? Who are you? I mean, what?”
“I said ‘I’m sorry’. That was out of line. I mean, here I am, asking for something that I need and then insulting you? It’s pretty harsh.” He then went over to the mattress and sat himself down. His hands came up to cradle his face, and he said nothing else for several moments.
The heavy silence that fell over the room broke when Ginny issued a loud yelp.
Draco brought his head back up to look at her. “What the hell?”
“I’m sorry, I just needed to pinch myself to make sure I wasn’t still sleeping. Because I have to be honest with you, Malfoy, I’m incredibly confused.”
“Maybe you should lay off the drugs then,” he replied, a small smirk playing at his lips.
“All right, that’s slightly more normal,” Ginny admitted. She walked forward and took a seat on the chair opposite the mattress. “You need to level with me though. What’s going on with you?”
He sighed, running a hand through his stringy blond hair. “Let’s smoke,” he said, instead of giving her the answer she clearly wanted.
Ginny frowned. “No, you’re going to tell me what’s going on.”
Draco looked at her closely. “Why do you want to know so badly? Look, I’ve got the money, you’ve got the pot - how about I just give you the money, and you give me the pot, and then I can just go, and you can go back to living your perfect little life, with your perfect little war hero boyfriend?” he said, sarcastically, obviously baiting her. It was so like him.
“What the hell was that all about?” she asked.
“I need a little normality in my life right now. And fucking with you is incredibly easy.” He laughed. “I suspect that you totally love the attention, Ginny.”
He was right, of course, but she wasn’t about to admit it so readily. “What’s so abnormal about your life, then? Did Daddy put down one of your favorite horsies? Or did you just get another check for doing absolutely nothing with your life?” she teased back.
His expression rapidly became stony again, and Ginny frowned. “What’s wrong now? You keep saying things like that. ‘Things are too real.’ ‘I need normality.’ What’s really going on here?”
Draco said nothing, but began fumbling through his pockets. Ginny got up and joined him on the mattress.
Finally, he turned his head, having found a letter that he held out to her. “My number’s up.”
“What?” Ginny took the letter and began to read it, but after the first few lines, she knew exactly what was going on here, why he was clearly so upset and unlike himself. A lump found its way to her throat and then rapidly sunk to the pit of her stomach. “No,” she finally said.
“Yep,” he replied. “I’m going to war.”
“What do you mean? You can’t go. You … you can’t go,” she said seriously, before she could stop herself. He regarded her curiously for a minute, and she felt the heat rise up in her cheeks once more. She’d always been that way though - impetuous to the point where it got her in constant trouble.
Draco looked at her, and she felt like she wanted to disappear into a black hole. He had such piercing gray eyes. They had the ability to totally unnerve her without even having any expression. “It’s not like I have a choice,” he finally said, decidedly putting Ginny out of her misery. “It’s not like I can decline an invitation from the U.S. government. When Uncle Sam comes a-knocking, you pack your fucking bags and hitch the next ride to ‘nam.”
Ginny said nothing, her eyes focused on the floor as she struggled to hold back the sudden ridiculous urge to cry. After a few minutes, she spoke again, hoping that she wouldn’t betray her sudden, awkward, and entirely random affectionate feelings for Draco this time. “When do you have to report?” she asked quietly.
Draco sat still for a moment, but then turned to her. “January.” He let out a scoffing laugh. “Happy fucking New Year, right?”
She placed a hand on his knee, instead of saying anything, not caring whether or not he would mind. She felt like she wanted to touch him, and she was going to touch him. What she didn’t expect, however, was his response. Draco placed a hand on top of hers and threaded his fingers over hers. The intimacy of the gesture should have unnerved her, and she knew that. Instead, she felt comforted. She left her hand there until he moved his after a couple of moments.
“Maybe it won’t be so bad. Maybe all the shit on TV is just for show, you know? Maybe they’re really fighting the good fight over there,” he said, with an ironic half-smile.
Ginny shook her head. “You know it’s not like that. You know it’s just as bad, probably worse, than what they show on TV.”
“Maybe not. And hey, democracy works so well over here. It’s probably a good thing that we’re bringing it to ‘nam, too.”
“Don’t give me that. You don’t believe that. I know you don’t believe that,” she said angrily.
“Fine, I don’t believe it, but it’s not like we’re living in some magical world where you can just abra-cadabra the bad guy away. People need to go over there and fight and fix things. But I just … I can’t go over there and fight.”
Ginny opened her mouth to retort, but couldn’t find any words. She knew he was right. He wasn’t strong like Harry was. He wouldn’t be able to pick up the pieces and move on. If Draco made it back at all, which he likely wouldn’t, he’d be as horribly changed as Seamus was - Seamus, who barely spoke at all anymore, who woke up screaming in the middle of the night with terrible nightmares, as Lavender constantly reminded Ginny.
“I think I should just go.”
“You can’t,” she reasserted.
“No, I mean … I mean, go … away,” he clarified. “Like, leave. Like burn this fucking summons and leave.” Draco’s eyes found hers, and he fixed her with a hard, serious look.
Ginny didn’t know what to say, how to respond, what to think. She’d spent so long absolutely hating Draco Malfoy, before building up a begrudging indifference to him, which only lead into a strange desire to see him sauntering into her store just to see her. She began to love those brief conversations with him, relish the way he made her feel important, even by calling her names and berating her. He managed to make her feel wanted with only a smirk or a caustic comment. He managed to make her forget that she was supposed to be getting married to someone sensible and heroic and lovely and … altogether good. He managed to make her want something more than the safe life that Harry was inevitably going to provide her with.
So maybe it wasn’t love, but it was something.
“We could sell this for the train fare,” she suddenly said, ripping the engagement ring from her finger and holding it out to him.
Cautiously, Draco took it from her. “We?”
“You,” she quickly corrected herself.
He regarded her closely, leaning in ever so. “We,” he said, definitively. “Come with me.”
Ginny shook her head. “It was just a slip of the tongue. I meant ‘you’.”
“No, it wasn’t. You meant ‘we’.”
Draco leaned closer again, and Ginny put a hand out to stop him. She wasn’t ready for that yet. It was too soon, wasn’t it? Everything was happening so fast, and it was terrifying and dizzying, and dear fucking God, was she really going to do this? No. No. No, there was no way. She was going to stay here where she belonged.
“Come with me, Ginny.”
Ginny licked her lips, and he leaned forward again, pushing gently against her hand. Suddenly, his lips were brushing against hers so gently that she could swear she was imagining it. Her hand fell away from his chest, and he got closer.
“Come with me, Ginny,” he repeated, and he pressed his lips to hers.
Her eyes fluttered closed, but when he pulled away, she opened them again. She really looked at him, for the first time. Ginny opened her mouth to answer, and he smiled because he obviously already knew what she would say.
End.
Author: blithelybonny
Rating: Mature
Possible Spoilers/Warnings: Non-magic AU. Infidelity. Harry/Ginny to start. Drug use.
Author's Notes: The header quote comes from the song “All Along the Watchtower” originally by Bob Dylan, but covered appropriately for the time period by Jimi Hendrix. Thanks to my rapid-fire beta reader, Pearl. She rocks. Any mistakes are mine and not hers.
Summary: During the Vietnam War, with her fiancé Harry Potter overseas bringing democracy and being a hero, Ginny Weasley takes solace in the friendship (if you can call it that) of Draco Malfoy. But when the war threatens to take him too, she makes a decision that has serious consequences for all three of them.
Come With Me
There must be some kind of way out of here,
said the joker to the thief.
There’s too much confusion.
I can’t get no relief.
--- --- ---
“So you’re serious, huh?”
“About what?” Ginny finishes rolling the joint with the kind of ease that only a true expert possesses.
Draco lounges luxuriously on the outdoor sofa, twiddling a pencil in his fingers as he waits for her to finish. “About marrying the Boy Wonder when he gets back from Bringing Democracy to the Vietnamese,” he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
A small amused noise escapes her throat, as she passes the cigarette to him. “Yes, of course. He asked, I love him, I accepted … usually after such a chain of events, the two people involved do end up getting married.”
“Of course,” he continues, “your little plan for domestic bliss hinges entirely on whether or not he comes back.”
Ginny freezes, her hackles immediately up. “Not funny.”
He sits forward a little, leaning up to her. “Wasn’t trying to be funny.”
She whirls on him in her seat then, her face inches from his. “Don’t you dare make jokes. Don’t you dare.
Draco then leans forward further, and when he speaks, his lips brush softly against hers, ever-so-slightly. “Don’t tell me it hasn’t crossed your mind from time to time, little girl. What are you going to do when the United States government knocks on your door with a telegram?”
She wants to slap him. She wants to scream and cuss him out. Instead, she crushes her lips against his. His hands come up to cup her face before slipping down her sides to her waist, and she aggressively parts his lips with her tongue. It sickens her how right he was - it’s been so long since Harry left, and she’s craved something, anything that even remotely feels like intimacy. So maybe it’s wrong. Maybe it’s incredibly, seriously wrong, but it feels right, and better than that, it feels good.
She presses him against the high back of the loveseat, orders him not to move, and then straddles his lap before removing her blouse and tossing it behind her. His hands come up and cup her breasts, gently massaging her with seeming expertness. She grinds her hips against his pelvis, relishing the groan of pleasure that escapes his lips. She can feel just how badly he wants her, and she wants to give herself to him.
“Draco,” she murmurs, with an unforgiving roll of her hips, “I want you. I want you so badly.”
He raises a pale eyebrow doubtfully. “Are you sure?”
“GINNY! GIIIIIIIIN! GINEVRA MOLLY WEASLEY, I WILL NOT CALL YOU AGAIN!”
Ginny jerked awake at the shrill tone of her mother’s voice. She took a moment to recognize where she was, safe in her own bed and certainly not in the lap of her boyfriend’s sworn enemy. The little puddle of drool on her pillow, however, testified to just how mouth-watering her naughty dream had been, but the redheaded young woman groaned audibly, frustrated and embarrassed - and not because she’d woken up before the good part started, of course! Rather, she was frustrated because this was the fifth night in a row that she’d woken up from a sex dream about Draco Malfoy and embarrassed because she was actually aroused by a sex dream about Draco Malfoy. It could only happen so often before she would be forced to think that there was something to it.
She blamed it entirely on the fact that since Harry had gone off to fight his war, Draco had taken the opportunity to ingratiate himself into her life in the most blatant display of ruthless seduction that she had ever seen in her short twenty years. Every day, he showed up at the Burger Barn where she had gotten a part-time job and leaned over the counter with his beautiful gray eyes and spat some ridiculous insult about her family or about her fiancé and practically begged her, therefore, to sit up and take notice of just how criminally handsome he was.
The redhead groaned as she got out of bed and headed down the hallway to the shower, pausing only momentarily to shout down the stairs to her mom that she was finally awake. In the bathroom, she turned the hot water on, slipped out of her nightgown, and got into the shower, immediately grateful for the heat. It was just starting to get chilly outside, and Chicago was well-known for its harsh winters.
The heat of the water served to wake her up and give her a bit of perspective. Perhaps she was being a little too harsh on Draco. It had to be a rough life for the privileged young man; choosing which of his four horses to take to the polo match was such a thankless chore. Clearly, he suffered the same hardships that most people suffered, especially her Harry and the rest of the boys who were off fighting for their country. So it wasn’t really his fault that he’d chosen to focus on her to get over all the horrible things he had to deal with on a day-to-day basis.
After about twenty minutes of scrubbing away the dirty, guilty feeling she had from the naughty dream, Ginny turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, and immediately wrapped herself in a towel not a moment too soon.
Her brother Ron stormed into the bathroom. “You better not have used up all the hot water,” he said, practically shoving her out of the way and towards the door.
“Oh my God, Ron, can I get dressed first?”
“No, I have to get to work. Move it, I’m gonna be late,” he replied, and swiftly shut the door in her face.
“GINNY, YOU’RE GOING TO BE LATE FOR WORK!”
The shout came from downstairs again no sooner had she raised her fist to pound on the door. With a sigh of frustration, Ginny padded back down the hallway to her bedroom to get dressed. Honestly, she was in no mood for this today. It was days like these when she couldn’t wait for Harry to come home from Vietnam so that they could just get married already, and she could move out of her house and get some privacy for once.
--- --- ---
Draco Malfoy entered the Burger Barn without the usual swagger in his step, and Ginny couldn’t help but notice. Of course, she had spent months studying his particular way of moving - not because she was interested, but because he had a stupid way about him that was decidedly impossible to ignore. Still, she affixed her plastic Burger Barn grin, with just the right hint of disdain for his very presence, and asked, as he stepped up to the counter, “Welcome to Burger Barn, can I take your order?”
He leaned on the counter, with practiced disinterest. “Weasley,” he greeted, his voice low and drawling in a way that made her want to reach out and slap him - and immediately as the thought crossed her mind, a soft blush crept up her cheeks, as she recalled the sensual dream she’d had the night before. “You should blush more often,” he added, taking in her discomfort. “It suits you.”
“What do you want, Malfoy?” she asked, dropping her eyes to the register.
“I need something from you,” he said, lowering his voice again.
Her eyes widened a little, but she refused to look up, afraid that she would betray herself as much more embarrassed than she actually was. But honestly, that low voice did it to her every single time - whether it was in real life, or only in her dreams. Dear God, Harry needed to get some leave immediately, or she was going to have to take drastic action, if starting to feel hot and bothered by Malfoy of all people was any indication of how hard up she was.
“What can I get for you today?” she then asked, trying to remain professional.
Draco looked around, appearing to make sure that no one was in earshot. He then leaned forward more and caught her eyes. “I’ve heard rumors about your connections, and I need to take advantage of them.”
Ginny said nothing for a moment, trying to gauge whether or not he was serious. She decided to play it safe. “I’m not sure what you mean,” she answered cautiously, looking into his eyes, all traces of her embarrassment starting to subside.
“I think you do,” he replied, raising a pale-blond eyebrow suggestively. “You know I’ve got the money, and I know you’ve got the goods…and I’m sure it’s more than obvious that I’m not a cop, Weasley.”
She knew exactly what he was talking about, of course. In spite of her determination to keep her pool of clients as close and small as possible, word tended to get out. Yet, Ginny did not want to share her wealth with Draco Malfoy, not when she knew that he could probably get it on his own anyway, and this was obviously just some kind of ploy to get her in trouble…or some kind of ploy to get close to her and under her skin more than he already did.
And yet -
“My shift ends at six tonight. Meet me at the St. Ferd’s playground.”
--- --- ---
St. Ferdinand Elementary had always acted as the hangout for local teenagers, and ever since the draft had been reinstated and teenagers needed to vent their frustrations about the war that was rapidly turning into a total quagmire, the playground was often filled to capacity with college students preparing protest signs, playing music, and getting high. Ginny liked to do all her business there, as it was easier to get lost among the crowd if the cops ever came calling.
She sat down on the furthest-left swing on the larger swing-set and waited for Draco to arrive, praying that she wouldn’t regret this - and also praying that she wouldn’t succumb to the awkward desire she’d had since she spoke with him earlier to try and fulfill the dream she’d had. It was such a stupid and random thought, and she honestly didn’t know why she kept imagining what it would be like to take him somewhere, get him high, and strip him down to his skivvies. Really, she was clearly just missing Harry, and Draco Malfoy was the only even remotely attractive male she’d seen in months. Yes, that had to be it.
Lost in her own thoughts, she didn’t notice when he came and sat down in the swing next to hers.
“Weasley,” he greeted evenly, startling her. “Have you been dipping into your own stash? You’re paranoid.” He chuckled lightly.
Ginny frowned, but turned her head to him to regard him. “So this isn’t a big ruse, is it? You’re serious about … well, you know,” she said.
He nodded. “No games. I’m in need of a little … mellowing, I guess? Things have gotten a little too real lately.”
“What do you mean by that?” she asked, beginning to swing back and forth a bit. He joined her after a moment, but said nothing. “Malfoy,” she added impatiently, “I don’t have all day.”
He opened his mouth to answer, but before he could say anything, a shout broke out a little further into the playground.
“IT’S THE COPS, MOVE IT!”
Ginny knew that she and Draco had nothing to fear, regardless of the fact that the cops were around. She hadn’t actually brought her stash with her because she genuinely thought that Draco was playing her. Of course, that brought up all sorts of interesting questions as to why she had still asked him to meet her. But she hadn’t the time to think about it now. Now, they needed to move or they were going to be dragged down with all the rest of the wannabe hippies. So she reached out and grabbed his hand - not because she wanted to, but because she had to get him to come with her - NOT that she wanted him to come with her …
“Ginny Weasley, you are fucked,” she murmured to herself, as she launched herself out of the swing, hand clasped tightly in his. “Come with me. I know a safe place.”
--- --- ---
The club-house had been in their backyard since long before Ginny was born. Her oldest brother Bill had nicknamed it “The Burrow” when he was a kid, and the name had stuck through the years, even though the little one-room hut looked almost nothing like a burrow at all. Now that all of them had moved out of the house, except for herself and Ron, it was like a nice little sanctuary for Ginny. It was also where she stashed the pot she and her friend Neville grew at Neville’s greenhouse.
And it was also where she and Harry used to hide out together before he’d shipped off to Vietnam, but somehow it didn’t matter to her that it was supposed to be their special place. She took Draco Malfoy there anyway. It was safe there, at least.
“It’s not much,” she said, by way of introduction, as they entered the room. It contained a table and a couple of chairs, a mattress in one corner, and a small chest that contained her stash. “But I like it here.”
Draco was less than impressed. With a raised eyebrow, he regarded the small room before turning to her haughtily. “It’s a dump, but I guess I shouldn’t expect too much. You can barely afford to keep that ramshackle house of yours in order, right?”
“Shut up, Malfoy!” she quickly spat back. So there it was, finally, and the reminder couldn’t possibly have come fast enough. All right, so sometimes he was slightly sensitive, and yes, he was incredibly handsome, and maybe he was a little bit funny, as well, and the months of having him come in to the restaurant and bother her had been fun in a this-feels-kinda-wrong way - yes, Draco Malfoy was pretty great, all things considered.
But he was such an incredible asshole!
He surprised her then, though. The words she never thought she would ever hear, in any sort of sincere manner, came from his lips so effortlessly, she could have sworn she was still dreaming from the night before.
“Sorry … I’m sorry.”
Ginny was flabbergasted. “I’m sorry, what? Who are you? I mean, what?”
“I said ‘I’m sorry’. That was out of line. I mean, here I am, asking for something that I need and then insulting you? It’s pretty harsh.” He then went over to the mattress and sat himself down. His hands came up to cradle his face, and he said nothing else for several moments.
The heavy silence that fell over the room broke when Ginny issued a loud yelp.
Draco brought his head back up to look at her. “What the hell?”
“I’m sorry, I just needed to pinch myself to make sure I wasn’t still sleeping. Because I have to be honest with you, Malfoy, I’m incredibly confused.”
“Maybe you should lay off the drugs then,” he replied, a small smirk playing at his lips.
“All right, that’s slightly more normal,” Ginny admitted. She walked forward and took a seat on the chair opposite the mattress. “You need to level with me though. What’s going on with you?”
He sighed, running a hand through his stringy blond hair. “Let’s smoke,” he said, instead of giving her the answer she clearly wanted.
Ginny frowned. “No, you’re going to tell me what’s going on.”
Draco looked at her closely. “Why do you want to know so badly? Look, I’ve got the money, you’ve got the pot - how about I just give you the money, and you give me the pot, and then I can just go, and you can go back to living your perfect little life, with your perfect little war hero boyfriend?” he said, sarcastically, obviously baiting her. It was so like him.
“What the hell was that all about?” she asked.
“I need a little normality in my life right now. And fucking with you is incredibly easy.” He laughed. “I suspect that you totally love the attention, Ginny.”
He was right, of course, but she wasn’t about to admit it so readily. “What’s so abnormal about your life, then? Did Daddy put down one of your favorite horsies? Or did you just get another check for doing absolutely nothing with your life?” she teased back.
His expression rapidly became stony again, and Ginny frowned. “What’s wrong now? You keep saying things like that. ‘Things are too real.’ ‘I need normality.’ What’s really going on here?”
Draco said nothing, but began fumbling through his pockets. Ginny got up and joined him on the mattress.
Finally, he turned his head, having found a letter that he held out to her. “My number’s up.”
“What?” Ginny took the letter and began to read it, but after the first few lines, she knew exactly what was going on here, why he was clearly so upset and unlike himself. A lump found its way to her throat and then rapidly sunk to the pit of her stomach. “No,” she finally said.
“Yep,” he replied. “I’m going to war.”
“What do you mean? You can’t go. You … you can’t go,” she said seriously, before she could stop herself. He regarded her curiously for a minute, and she felt the heat rise up in her cheeks once more. She’d always been that way though - impetuous to the point where it got her in constant trouble.
Draco looked at her, and she felt like she wanted to disappear into a black hole. He had such piercing gray eyes. They had the ability to totally unnerve her without even having any expression. “It’s not like I have a choice,” he finally said, decidedly putting Ginny out of her misery. “It’s not like I can decline an invitation from the U.S. government. When Uncle Sam comes a-knocking, you pack your fucking bags and hitch the next ride to ‘nam.”
Ginny said nothing, her eyes focused on the floor as she struggled to hold back the sudden ridiculous urge to cry. After a few minutes, she spoke again, hoping that she wouldn’t betray her sudden, awkward, and entirely random affectionate feelings for Draco this time. “When do you have to report?” she asked quietly.
Draco sat still for a moment, but then turned to her. “January.” He let out a scoffing laugh. “Happy fucking New Year, right?”
She placed a hand on his knee, instead of saying anything, not caring whether or not he would mind. She felt like she wanted to touch him, and she was going to touch him. What she didn’t expect, however, was his response. Draco placed a hand on top of hers and threaded his fingers over hers. The intimacy of the gesture should have unnerved her, and she knew that. Instead, she felt comforted. She left her hand there until he moved his after a couple of moments.
“Maybe it won’t be so bad. Maybe all the shit on TV is just for show, you know? Maybe they’re really fighting the good fight over there,” he said, with an ironic half-smile.
Ginny shook her head. “You know it’s not like that. You know it’s just as bad, probably worse, than what they show on TV.”
“Maybe not. And hey, democracy works so well over here. It’s probably a good thing that we’re bringing it to ‘nam, too.”
“Don’t give me that. You don’t believe that. I know you don’t believe that,” she said angrily.
“Fine, I don’t believe it, but it’s not like we’re living in some magical world where you can just abra-cadabra the bad guy away. People need to go over there and fight and fix things. But I just … I can’t go over there and fight.”
Ginny opened her mouth to retort, but couldn’t find any words. She knew he was right. He wasn’t strong like Harry was. He wouldn’t be able to pick up the pieces and move on. If Draco made it back at all, which he likely wouldn’t, he’d be as horribly changed as Seamus was - Seamus, who barely spoke at all anymore, who woke up screaming in the middle of the night with terrible nightmares, as Lavender constantly reminded Ginny.
“I think I should just go.”
“You can’t,” she reasserted.
“No, I mean … I mean, go … away,” he clarified. “Like, leave. Like burn this fucking summons and leave.” Draco’s eyes found hers, and he fixed her with a hard, serious look.
Ginny didn’t know what to say, how to respond, what to think. She’d spent so long absolutely hating Draco Malfoy, before building up a begrudging indifference to him, which only lead into a strange desire to see him sauntering into her store just to see her. She began to love those brief conversations with him, relish the way he made her feel important, even by calling her names and berating her. He managed to make her feel wanted with only a smirk or a caustic comment. He managed to make her forget that she was supposed to be getting married to someone sensible and heroic and lovely and … altogether good. He managed to make her want something more than the safe life that Harry was inevitably going to provide her with.
So maybe it wasn’t love, but it was something.
“We could sell this for the train fare,” she suddenly said, ripping the engagement ring from her finger and holding it out to him.
Cautiously, Draco took it from her. “We?”
“You,” she quickly corrected herself.
He regarded her closely, leaning in ever so. “We,” he said, definitively. “Come with me.”
Ginny shook her head. “It was just a slip of the tongue. I meant ‘you’.”
“No, it wasn’t. You meant ‘we’.”
Draco leaned closer again, and Ginny put a hand out to stop him. She wasn’t ready for that yet. It was too soon, wasn’t it? Everything was happening so fast, and it was terrifying and dizzying, and dear fucking God, was she really going to do this? No. No. No, there was no way. She was going to stay here where she belonged.
“Come with me, Ginny.”
Ginny licked her lips, and he leaned forward again, pushing gently against her hand. Suddenly, his lips were brushing against hers so gently that she could swear she was imagining it. Her hand fell away from his chest, and he got closer.
“Come with me, Ginny,” he repeated, and he pressed his lips to hers.
Her eyes fluttered closed, but when he pulled away, she opened them again. She really looked at him, for the first time. Ginny opened her mouth to answer, and he smiled because he obviously already knew what she would say.
End.