♥ "Let’s Go There" (Part 2) for eustacia_vye28♥
Title: Let’s Go There
Rating: NC-17
Possible Spoilers/Warnings: Sex, maybe half a second of non-con if you squint.
Summary: It’s amazing what a week’s worth of shifts at the General Healing clinic can bring.
A/N: To my recipient, thank you for the fabulous prompt! I enjoyed working with it. Believe it or not, I was hoping for a story of no more than 4,000 words, but of course that did not happen. To S, my beta, thank you for being so fantastic and beta-ing this monster with your usual skill and aplomb.
Happy reading!
Part 1
Let’s Go There (Part 2)
Saturday
After a glorious eight hours’ sleep (after which Ginny dared to hope that her sleeping patterns were finally normal again), Ginny stood in front of her clothes wardrobe, thinking about her interaction with Draco yesterday. She knew for certain that he was coming today, and she wanted him to feel some the discomfort she had felt yesterday.
And so, she reached far into the back of her wardrobe and pulled out a red top. It had been a while since she had worn it, and as soon as she looked at it her heart swelled with adoration. She’d seen this low-cut, spaghetti-strap, bizarre shoulder-less-yet-sleeve-having number about half a year ago in a store, and knew instantly that she had to buy it. She looked truly fabulous in it, if she did say so herself, and it was the perfect thing for her to wear for this little dose of payback. She put it on, along with an above-knee-length black skirt and classic heels, applied make-up for what felt like the first time in years, and Apparated promptly to the clinic.
“Ginevra Weasley!” Adele, the young, spunky, unfalteringly fabulous weekend receptionist greeted her when she appeared. “You look so amazing today! What happened? Have you found love or something?”
Ginny laughed. “Hardly. I’ve just had a good night’s sleep, so I thought I’d make the effort this morning. I’m glad you noticed.”
“How couldn’t I have?” Adele asked. “Are you sure it’s just sleep you’re getting, because you honestly look radiant. It’s wonderful to see. I haven’t seen you look this good since … well…”
“Since Harry and I broke up?” Ginny finished for her.
“Err, yeah,” Adele answered, looking sheepish.
“It’s okay,” Ginny said, patting Adele on the shoulder. “It happened ages ago. I’m over it. Now’s the time to move on.”
As Ginny spoke those words, she realised, with astounding clarity, how significant they were. For three months she had been walking around like a zombie, not caring about anything or anyone. But now, suddenly, everything seemed different. In the past week Ginny had gone from feeling like she might just die standing up, to waking up energised, refreshed, ready to go, and, finally, blissfully, happy. What could have possibly been so special about this week to have made her world change that significantly?
“I’m so pleased to hear you say that, babe,” Adele said, handing Ginny a folder. “Your first patient is waiting for you. It’s good to have you back, at last.”
“Thank you, Adele,” Ginny said, smiling at her as she entered the room.
“Ahh, Mr McGrath,” she greeted the short, balding man currently attempting to sit on the bed. “Am I to understand that your wife has been practising her Tap Dancing Jinxes on you again?”
As the day rolled on, Ginny noticed, with growing concern, that Draco was not showing up. Concern, firstly, because those salves on his chest needed replacing, and secondly because she wanted her sweet revenge. She supposed he would be the sort to defy medical orders and not turn up, just to piss her off, but as far as Ginny could tell he seemed to enjoy being treated by her. Why else would he constantly have come to her that week, rather than any of the other Healers?
Finally, at the end of her shift, when she was just about ready to make her way home, Adele stuck her head through the door.
“Babe, I know your shift ends in, like, two minutes,” she said, “but some really fit bloke out here is asking for you especially.”
“Oh?” Ginny removed her bag from her shoulder, and her Healer’s robe, immediately. “I know who that is, Adele. Send him in.”
“Okay,” Adele agreed, ducking back out. Ginny spend the few intervening seconds fluffing up her hair and arranging herself into as sexy a position as she could muster without looking as though she were posing. The door opened and Malfoy came in.
“About time you showed up,” she said.
“Yeah, sorry, work held me-“ Draco started to say, but then he turned to look at her and the words seemed to die in his mouth. His eyes went wide, his mouth parted, just slightly, and it was fairly obvious that he was looking her very slowly up and down, and really liking what he saw.
Ginny could not have been happier. Talk about your total and utter success stories.
“Well,” she said, placing one hand on her hip, “who’s ogling now, I wonder?”
That seemed to bring Draco out of his trance. He shook himself, met her eyes, and frowned. “Very classy, She-Weasel. You’ve obviously done this on purpose. Let me tell you now, this Malfoy does not approve.”
“Oh, really?” Ginny asked, turning away from him to get out the change of salves. “And why is that? Is it that inconceivable for you to find the body of a Weasley attractive?”
“Well, yeah,” Draco answered, hoisting himself onto the bed. “Considering who constitutes the other Weasleys of your generation.”
“Ahh. So you’re saying that you’ve found the bodies of some of my brothers to have been attractive also, have you?”
“What?” Malfoy asked, looking unusually, hilariously flustered. “What … I … no! Just replace my skin-healing things!” He took his shirt off with a flourish, and Ginny had no choice but to cut out the teasing and get to business. A terrible shame, but Ginny Weasley was nothing if not professional, when she needed to be.
She started peeling off the salves from the day before, and noted with some pleasure that Malfoy had not attempted to fiddle with them. They’d worked a treat, healing the lighter burns completely and the more severe burns about 60% of the way. It seemed as though she would only have to apply two or three salves this time around, which was a good thing.
As she worked, she soon became uncomfortably aware of Draco doing what she had to begrudgingly admit to him yesterday, and staring at her chest. She supposed she couldn’t blame him (the shirt did not exactly leave much to the imagination), but she found herself starting to regret the alluring outfit. Sure, she’d gotten her revenge, but his current staring was starting to make her feel uncomfortable again. There was probably some gender-equality stuff happening there. Why was he able to stare at her and not feel embarrassed, while her apparently staring at him and enjoying touching him (not that she did!) was enough to make her unusually bashful?
“I have to say, She-Weasel,” Draco commented, after a while, “that your rack really is one of the finest I’ve seen. And it’s not as if freckles have ever really been my thing.”
“I’m not entirely sure if I should be insulted or pleased about that,” Ginny answered.
“Oh, definitely pleased,” Draco said. “It’s not every day a Malfoy flatters a Weasley.”
“No doubt,” Ginny agreed. Feeling the pressing desire to change the subject from anything her-chest-related, she asked him how Scorpius was doing.
“Very well, actually,” he said, and his vaguely leering smile turned to one of adoration - an emotion that Ginny infinitely preferred on him. “He’s staying with his grandparents this weekend, so he’s very excited about that. And so are his grandparents. Astoria’s folks like spending time with him.”
“I see.” This was interesting territory, if not exactly territory that Ginny had wanted to step into. She couldn’t admit to knowing much about Draco’s late wife. She’d heard that Astoria had died about five years ago, but at the time she had been so busy trying to control tabloids constantly asking her whether or not Harry had proposed or what future plans regarding children were, that she had not dedicated any time to becoming more knowledgeable about the circumstances of her death. A sudden thought occurred to her. Astoria Malfoy had died five years ago. Draco’s son was currently four years old. Draco had mentioned on Thursday that the pregnancy had been difficult. Could it have been possible that she had died from…
“I know what you’re thinking,” Malfoy said.
“What?” Ginny looked at him. “How can you know? You’re not a mind-reader.”
“Well, you went silent, so you’re obviously thinking about something involving me, and my past,” Draco explained, as though this were perfectly obvious. “If you want to ask something, you might as well ask it. It’s not like I don’t owe you a thing or two from what you’ve done for me this week.”
“Err…” Ginny’s discomfort was now entirely unrelated to Draco’s staring. Although that could also have been because he wasn’t staring anymore. “All right. I was wondering about Astoria.”
“What about her?”
“Well, I was wondering how, er, well… how she died.”
“In childbirth,” Draco said simply.
“Ah.” So it was as she had expected. “I’m sorry.”
Draco waved her off. “Don’t be. It’s okay. I mean, despite what many think, not all aristocratic Pureblood marriages are totally heartless. I wouldn’t say I was completely in love with her or anything, but we’d always been friends, and in the end we became pretty close. She also gave me Scorpius. So, yeah, I do miss her sometimes. But you have to move on, you know?”
Ginny nodded. He was speaking quite casually, but as she applied the final salve and caught a glimpse of his eyes, she could see some definite hurt there. She applied the salve carefully, unsure of what to say.
“She died here,” he eventually continued. “In St Mungo’s. I was with her. I remember holding my son in my arms, thinking that there was no way I ever wanted to return to this place. And so for five years I was vigilant in making sure my health, and Scorpius’ health, were impeccable. I would have kept on going, for sure, but then this disastrous week happened. But maybe it was a good thing. I can’t very well say that I’m a good father if I refuse to give my son, who should be receiving medical care for his problems, access to medical care, can I? And of course, I need to look after myself too. So yeah, perhaps it’s a good thing.”
Ginny was done. She still couldn’t think of anything appropriate to say, so she settled for laying a hand on his shoulder. He felt her hand there and looked up, into her eyes. For some reason, Ginny felt her heart start to race.
Draco let out a huff of semi-amused laughter. “You know,” he said, shifting forward a fraction, “your eyes are actually kind of amber-coloured.”
Ginny opened her mouth, possibly to say something along the lines of “What in Merlin’s name are you talking about? My eyes are brown”, but Draco didn’t give her the chance. Before she could say anything he had taken her face in his hands, pulled her toward him, and kissed her.
Ginny pulled away immediately. Only one thought was racing through her mind: What. The fuck. Was that? When she voiced the very same question to Draco, he shook his head. He clearly was just as surprised about what he had just done as she was.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m really sorry. That was… I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“Neither do I.” She turned away from him, returning to her desk and pulling on her Healer’s robe. “You can leave now,” she said. “I’ve finished. Pull those off tomorrow morning.”
She heard rustling behind her, then the sound of footsteps, then finally the door opening and closing. He was gone.
Alone again, Ginny traced her fingers over her lips. Her heart was racing, and she took a few deep breaths to try and calm herself down. She did not know what to make of it. It was fairly obvious that she had not been kissed in quite some time, because that brief moment of contact had caused what felt like fireworks to erupt in her head. She felt energised, and disturbingly primal. And this was Draco freakin’ Malfoy, for Merlin’s sake. Who knows what would happen if someone she actually liked had felt the need to break patient-Healer professionalism and lock lips with her.
~*~
Sunday
Ginny slept abysmally last night.
It was hardly surprising, considering what had happened yesterday. She doubted anybody would have been able to sleep after something like that. Still, she was unhappy about it. She had been hoping to finish off her monstrous week’s worth of shifts with gusto, and then maybe go out with Adele. They could have a drink, eat dinner, and catch-up, like they used to do before Harry had broken up with her. There was no hope of that now, since she was so tired from the previous night that all she would have the energy to do after this final shift is make a plate of pasta and pour a glass of wine. It was disappointing, and judging from the way Adele was looking at her when she came in that morning, she was disappointed as well.
After taking a Pepper-Up Potion (and officially deciding that, although she enjoyed the effect they had on her, she hated how they tasted), and inhaling two cups of sugar-laden tea, Ginny saw to her morning patients with as much care and attention as she could muster. She spent her lunch hour in her room, drinking more tea and trying to organise her files. In the middle of the afternoon, at just about the point where Ginny thought she was about to wilt, Adele stuck her head into Ginny’s room, a fairly apologetic look on her face.
“Sorry about this babe, but that hot bloke from yesterday is back. He doesn’t seem to have anything wrong with him, but he’s begging me to let him see you. Can I let him in?
Perfect. Way to end this week with a bang, Ginny thought. “Yeah, send him in,” she said, rubbing her tired eyes with the back of her hand.
He entered, and seemed to note her outfit (the most boring white button-down shirt in the world and shapeless grey slacks) with some disappointment. Ginny would have clucked her tongue and said something about how trivial men can be sometimes, but when Adele had seen her that morning she had seemed just as unhappy about her outfit choice.
“What’s wrong with you now?” she asked, forcing her tired legs to allow her to stand without immediately collapsing underneath her.
“Nothing, really,” Malfoy said with a shrug. “Those remaining burns healed up nicely. I took the salves off this morning.”
Ginny could not have given less of a fuck if she’d tried. “So why the hell are you here, then?” she asked. “I have legitimate patients to see, you know-“
“I want you, She-Weasel,” he interrupted.
Ginny blinked. Twice. She was not sure she had heard him correctly. “You what?”
“I want you.” He attempted to step closer to her, and she took a corresponding step back. He seemed unperturbed and continued to approach her, until her backside hit the hospital bed and she had no choice but to allow him to get as close to her as he wanted. He stopped when there was a metre or so between them, which was more than enough to make Ginny feel uncomfortable.
“I don’t know why,” Draco continued, tugging at his sleeve with apparent agitation. “I really don’t, but… something about this week has been… amazing. There’s something about you, She-Weasel. Nobody else, bar maybe Astoria, has stood up to me before. Nobody else talks nasty back to me when I talk nasty to them. Nobody else has treated my son, the child without a voice, as though he’s as special as I know him to be. And I cannot stop thinking about you. And you… you just had to wear that outfit yesterday, didn’t you? I don’t… I don’t know. But I want you.”
“Malfoy,” Ginny said, before he could hope to continue his monologue, “you can’t do this. You can’t go there.”
Draco looked completely confused. “What? What do you mean, ‘you can’t go there’?”
“I mean that this is ridiculous,” Ginny explained, again rubbing at her eyes. “We’re a Malfoy and a Weasley. We’ve hated each other for years. And all of a sudden you come here every day for a week for treatment, and now you’re suddenly declaring you want me? How can you think that to be in any way normal?”
“So what?” Draco immediately challenged, stepping closer to her. “Who care if it’s not normal? Or if it’s ridiculous? I want you.”
“Yeah?” Ginny asked. “Well, you’re just going to have to be disappointed, then, because I certainly do not want you.”
Far from appearing disappointed, Draco raised a singular, indisputably sceptical eyebrow. “You don’t?” he asked.
“No, I don’t,” Ginny repeated.
“Really?” Draco took one more step towards her, and Ginny was suddenly unable to recall how to breathe. She had the inhalation part down, but was stuck on the exhalation phase. How was that part done again? Draco ran a few fingers through the hair that had fallen down the side of her face, and Ginny found herself having an even tougher time remembering.
“Why are you so tired then, She-Weasel?” Draco challenged, his voice so low, so quiet, that it might well have been a whisper. “It couldn’t possibly have been because you were up all night, thinking about our kiss, could it?”
“N…no,” Ginny said, sounding shakier than the most nervous of mice before the most hungry of cats.
“Interesting,” Draco murmured. “If it makes you change your mind at all, I couldn’t sleep either. All I could think about was you. Playing with this hair of yours, touching this skin. Maybe laying you under me, gasping for air as I start to-“
“Stop it!” Ginny pushed him away. He stumbled, somewhat startled, but not looking nearly perturbed enough.
“You’d better get out of here, Malfoy,” she said, finally recalling the final part of the breathing motion, and exhaling. “If you don’t, I will call security.”
“You talk nasty, don’t you, She-Weasel,” he said. “It can’t be that you’re in denial, can it?”
“No,” Ginny said, trying to make her voice sound as resolute as possible and feeling pretty pleased with the result. “Now get lost.”
“Fine,” Draco said coolly, making for the door. “I hope you have fun failing to sleep tonight, now that I’ve put those images in your head.”
The door closed behind him, and Ginny spent the next ten minutes trying to control her shaking hands. Even after she’d taken that ten minutes, and told Adele she could send the next patient in, she spent the remaining three hours of her shift highly strung. Hopefully her patients hadn’t noticed.
~*~
Sunday, later
After finally, finally arriving home, putting her Healer’s robe into her wardrobe, pulling on tracksuit bottoms and a singlet top, and preparing then eating some spaghetti bolognaise, Ginny settled on her lounge and poured herself a glass of red wine. She took a sip, swallowed, and set the glass back on the table before lying down on the lounge, staring at the ceiling.
She felt some wine on her lip, and absent-mindedly brushed it away with her fingers. The action made her think, again, of Draco’s lips on hers. They were not the softest, she had to admit. That in itself was odd. She would have thought that somebody of his breeding would moisturise daily, but evidently he didn’t because his were slightly chapped. But she had kind of liked their roughness. Kissing them for longer would probably be quite nice. And those long fingers, playing with her hair, touching her skin. Maybe laying her under him and making her gasp for air as he started to -
Oh, Merlin. He’d definitely done this on purpose; placing mental images in her head while trapping her there. It was all strategic on his part, from his lacing those fingers through those few locks of her hair, to her catching a whiff of his strange smell of pine, with perhaps a hint of strawberry. Maybe he’d eaten strawberries for lunch. His lips had looked slightly red, when she’d caught sight of them…
Ginny suddenly became aware of how fast her heart was beating. The hand that had been touching her lips had slid down her stomach and was now dangerously close to one particular part of her anatomy. One particular part of her anatomy that was heating up, quick smart.
Oh, Merlin, she thought again. She sat up, shook herself, and tried to calm down. She decided she needed to move around a bit. Maybe a brisk walk would do the trick. She stood up, drained the glass of wine, set it back on the table, grabbed her keys and headed for her front door.
She pulled it open and nearly yelped with surprise. Draco Malfoy was there, his fist poised and ready to knock.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, feeling her heart race and her cheeks heat up at the sight of him.
“I’m proving something,” he said. Ginny would have dearly loved to have said “what?”, but before she could, he had bent down and kissed her. And, Merlin, it was like someone had lit a very long fuse many hours earlier, and that fuse had finally reached its destination. She should have been appalled. She should have pushed him away, or slapped him, or something similar, for thinking that he could just come to her house (and how in Merlin’s name did he find out her address, anyway?) and kiss her like she hadn’t just flatly refused his declaration of lust a few hours before. But she couldn’t do it. She hadn’t felt like this in ages, and it was abundantly clear to her now that he was absolutely right. She wanted him.
And so she started kissing him back, desperately. Draco seemed encouraged, if his deepening the kiss was of any indication. He somehow managed to kick the door shut, turn her around with dizzying speed, and slam her, quite violently, against it. She let herself be slammed. She also let him pick her up, and her legs wrapped around his waist as he locked his hands under her posterior. Tendrils of her hair fell over her shoulders, the ends brushing against his face and probably tickling him. He didn’t seem to care though, and neither did she.
It was only when he needed air that Draco finally broke the kiss.
“You taste like wine,” he murmured, breathing heavily.
“I…” Ginny said, leaning her forehead against his, unable to think straight. “I… I don’t know… what…”
Draco shifted his hips, and Ginny gasped when she felt his groin press against hers. It had been a long time (far too long, according to some of her more vocal friends), but Ginny was practised enough to understand the extent of the arousal she felt there. It was nothing short of surprising.
“I want you, She-Weasel,” Draco said, for at least the fifth time that day. He shifted his hips again, and Ginny’s hands tightened on his shoulders. “Please, let me have you.”
“You can have me,” Ginny answered immediately. Her hands found their way to the back of his head, and she pulled his hair back enough to make him look up at her. “Have me.”
Draco did not have to be told twice. His mouth was immediately on hers again, kissing her so furiously that Ginny would not be surprised if he bruised her mouth. Still, she could give as good as she got, and she did. Her hands continued to tangle in his hair as he pulled her away from the door, stumbling towards the living room.
Once they managed to make it there, he found the only spot big enough for them to lie (just in front of the currently inactive fireplace), and managed to get them both into a vague sitting position without injuring either of them. He pulled away from her then, and she regarded him with some confusion.
“Something wrong?” she asked.
“No, no,” Draco answered, with a brisk shake of the head. “I was wondering though. Have you been sleeping better this week? Than normal, I mean?”
Ginny couldn’t have hidden her surprise, even if she’d wanted to. “Yes,” she said, ashamed to note that her voice contained some wonder. “How did you know that?”
Draco smile was so satisfied that it bordered on worrying. “I knew it,” he said. “I’ve been sleeping better too. It’s because of you. Or, rather, because of us. I think there’s something special between us, She-Weasel. Something I think we should pursue.”
Ginny raised an eyebrow so sceptical that she was sure Draco was impressed. “That’s ridiculous,” she said. “How could there be something special between us, already? We’ve only been on semi-civil terms with each other for a few days, maybe, this week. And that was only when your and your son’s lives were in danger.”
“Well, yes, perhaps,” Draco agreed, “but tell me, She-Weasel. If there’s nothing special between us, then how come this,” he planted a one-second kiss on her mouth, “feels so intense?”
Ginny tried to make a suggestion; something along the lines of “reciprocal kissing skills?”, but was hindered from answering by the fact that Draco has now planting butterfly kisses along her neck and shoulder. Her attempts at offering a suggestion went about as far as “Err, well, maybe…” before she sort of trailed off pathetically, then gave up and started on the infinitely easier task of removing Draco’s shirt.
Once that was off, Draco stopped kissing her for long enough to give her one of his cheekiest grins yet. “I didn’t think you’d be able to answer me.”
“Maybe I’m a bit too distracted,” she suggested.
“Well, that’s fair enough,” Draco said. She felt a tickle along her stomach, and looked down to find him worming his hands underneath her singlet top. The light touch of his fingers was enough to make her shiver.
“It’s your fault,” she defended. “You keep distracting me.”
“I would apologise, but I don’t feel particularly apologetic. You’re so fun to play with.”
“That has got to be one of the greatest lines ever. Every woman likes to be equated to the family cat.”
“You’re quite snippy, aren’t you?” Draco asked. His hands were continuing their exploration up her top. “It’s kind of impressive, considering how aroused you are.”
“I don’t think you should be talking as though I’m the one who’s more ar-oh!” Draco had just reached her left breast and squeezed it. She had not been expecting that.
“I think we might need to do away with these clothes now, yes?” Draco asked. Without waiting for her to answer, he pulled her singlet over her head before tugging at her tracksuit bottoms until they were gone as well. Ginny managed to remove his belt in the intervening time, but that was all she could do before he had moved too far away for her to reach.
“Probably best if you don’t do anything else just yet,” he said.
“Why?”
“Because if you do, I… well let’s just say this will be a very short-lived encounter.”
“Oh, right.” Ginny tried to get a look, but he seemed to be quite the expert at keeping the evidence of his arousal away from her line of vision. “And you said I was the hornier one.”
“I said no such thing,” Draco corrected her. “I only said that you were very aroused. And you’ll be more so before too long.”
Ginny sighed. “I can’t believe I’m sitting here, starkers, arguing with you about who’s closer to coming.”
“Sex with me is a verbal, and spiritual, treat, princess,” Draco winked. “Now, lie down.”
Ginny was tempted to say ‘no’, but he had placed a hand on her shoulder and lowered her to the floor before she could make any such objection. Thank Merlin her floor was carpeted, or else it would have been really cold, and kind of sticky, for her to have laid her slightly sweaty body on. One thing she had noticed was that she was feeling no embarrassment at all at Draco seeing her naked. The only person who had seen her completely naked before (bar her mother, and maybe several of her brothers after going into the bathroom without realising she was in the shower) was Harry, and with him she had always felt slightly embarrassed, even after several years of him seeing her. She had never completely understood why she had always been embarrassed (after all, she was not generally a shy person), but she suspected it had something to do with Harry always having been nervous with her. He was forever unsure, asking her if she was okay and telling her several times that they could stop as soon as she felt uncomfortable. It was very noble of him and all, but Ginny was fairly sure she had proven time and time again that she was not some delicate flower, incapable of looking after herself or timid about speaking out if something was unpleasant for her.
But Draco, so far, was sparing no time to ask her about her condition or reminding her that they could stop. And she found that oddly refreshing. Perhaps it seemed uncaring, but to her it felt more like he knew she could look after herself, and so there was no point in reminding her about things she already knew when they could use that time doing more productive things.
Like, say, fucking.
“So,” she said to him now, “do you have me lying here, risking carpet burn, for any particular reason, or do you just like seeing how I look all stretched out like this.”
“Can I say ‘both’?” he asked. She couldn’t see him, but she guessed he was sitting somewhere near her right hip. “Because you do look quite marvellous like this. I’m tempted to take pictures.”
“Yes, well, if you could kindly refrain, that would be equally marvellous,” Ginny said.
“Don’t tell me you’re camera-shy, She-Weasel,” Draco said. “That would be an incredible shame.”
“I’m not,” Ginny assured him, “but I was kind of hoping for more to be happening besides me lying here and you saying I look quite photogenic in the buff.”
“Right you are,” Draco said. “Just a moment.”
“A moment?” Ginny asked. “This isn’t a marathon. What are you doing that requires so much prep-ahh!”
Draco’s face suddenly appeared, inches from her own. “Since we both appear to be so incapable of shutting up,” he said, “I think I’d better do it for us.”
He kissed her then, and Ginny had to admit, that was a sure-fire way of shutting them both up.
As they kissed, Ginny felt Draco’s fingers trailing lightly down her sides. She shivered again, and she swore she could feel him smile at her reaction to his touch. His lips left hers again, and he started to slide down her front, planting those butterfly kisses he seemed so fond of down her front as he went.
When he reached her breasts he paused for a moment. Ginny blinked, confused, and was about to raise her head to ask “what’s caught your attention now?” when he cupped her left one in his hand. She sighed, loudly, and flopped back down again.
He chuckled. “Sorry. I just like to appreciate the beauty of something before I start playing with it.”
“Do you play with everything you find beautiful, then?”
“Well, playing with mountain ranges, sparkling riverbeds and several-metre-high works of art takes a bit too much effort for me,” he said, and Ginny allowed herself a snort of amusement. “But if it’s something of a reasonable size, then yes, in some way, everything I play with is beautiful. I play Quidditch with a Snitch, and they’re beautiful. I play games with my son, and he’s beautiful. And of course, I word-spar with you, and you’re fairly breathtaking.”
“Wow. For somebody who I imagine does not dish out many compliments, that one was surprisingly smooth.”
“I try. Now shut up, please, for I am about to suck your tits.”
“Aww geez, Malfoy, you could have at least tried for a segue there-ohh.” Draco had just latched his mouth onto her breast, and a more effective mouth gag for her he could not have found. She knew she was doing a bad thing in comparing Draco to Harry, again, but the comparison between these two was begging to be made. Harry would not have even considered placing his mouth on her breasts. He seemed to be of the opinion that that area was meant for babies’ mouths and nothing else. As a result, Ginny had had no idea whether she liked having somebody else’s mouth on her breasts before. Now it was very clear that she did. She didn’t know whether Draco was just particularly skilled at using his tongue to massage her nipple into submission, or if she was particularly sensitive there, or what. All she knew was that it felt amazing.
Ginny’s fingers found his hair again, and as he continued to suck she found herself guiding him along, navigating him to where it felt the best. To his credit, he seemed to go along with it. Eventually he switched to the other breast, and she started squirming in anticipation. Her legs fell apart just slightly, seemingly of their own accord, and by the time he had finished treating her right bosom as though it were the tastiest sweet in Honeydukes, Ginny was having a lot of trouble keeping still.
Draco’s face came into view, and he looked about ready to open his mouth, presumably to make some smart-arse comment about her looking as though she was being attacked by ants, but she cut him off by grabbing him by the waistband of his trousers and pulling him close enough to take the aforementioned trousers off. If his eagerly helping her to pull both them and his pants off was anything to go by, he seemed to understand her point.
“You sure you’re ready for this, She-Weasel?” he asked.
Ginny looked down at what she assumed was the ‘this’ to which he was referring, and couldn’t help but be amused. He wasn’t the smallest soul in the world, to be fair, but it didn’t exactly look as though he’d be splitting her in half with its sheer magnitude alone. In fact, not that she’d tell him this or anything, but it looked as though Harry might be slightly bigger.
“I think you overestimate yourself, Malfoy,” she instead told him.
He did not seem remotely perturbed. “It’s not the size of the wand, She-Weasel,” he said, taking aim at her entrance. “It’s what you can do with it.”
“Then please,” she said, “amaze me.”
“I had no intention of doing anything less.” And with that, he thrust into her. When he was all the way in, he stayed there for a bit, presumably to let her get used to the feel of something of that girth being inside her. She had to admit she appreciated it. Since it had been a while for her, she could feel some not-entirely-painless stretching going on down there. She closed her eyes, reminding herself to breathe, and then suddenly felt small waves of pleasure radiating through her body. She opened her eyes and sat up slightly, to find that Draco was using two fingers to massage her little nub of pleasure.
Another difference between Draco and Harry. Harry had never managed to figure out where that particular appendage was. It occurred to Ginny then that Harry must have been utterly rubbish in the sack.
Either that, or Draco was bloody good.
As Draco continued to rub her clit, he slowly slid out of her, then quickly rammed back into her. The quick movement sent another, different kind of pleasurable jolt through her, which, when coupled with the smaller, more frequent waves his efforts on her clit were creating, was quite breathtaking. His methods were simple, Ginny noted. But they were very effective.
“Enjoying yourself?” Draco asked, bringing himself forward so that his face was closer to hers.
“Immensely,” Ginny answered. His ego definitely did not need stroking, but Ginny figured what the hell. It wasn’t as though he didn’t deserve the praise.
“I’m very glad to hear it,” he said, pushing into her again. She gasped, arching her back off the floor. She knew she was not going to last much longer. He must have sensed it as well, because soon enough his tempo started to increase. His fingers on her clit started rubbing more frantically, and his pushing and pulling in and out of her got faster and faster. Ginny’s breaths, which had started as loud exhalations, turned into gasps, then moans, and then, finally, into shrieks. As she felt her muscles start to clench around him, she grabbed him by the hips and pushed, as hard as she could, against him. And then her world exploded as she went over the edge, and her body filled to the brim with waves of powerful orgasm. As her last few waves of pleasure subsided he pushed into her one more time before coming himself, with a surprisingly quiet moan of release.
When they were both spent, he lowered himself onto her. It seemed as though the Harry-comparisons were affecting her like a virus, because again, she couldn’t help but note that he would never have rested on top of her. He had always fretted about how much heavier he was than her, and how he would suffocate her if he lay on top of her. It was nonsense, of course, and Draco evidently knew that because he had no qualms about it. She shifted over slightly, rolling them both onto their sides, and they spent the next few moments lying there, entwined in each other, enjoying the rare silence between them.
“So,” Draco eventually said, when he had evidently decided that that was more than enough silence for them.
“So, what?” Ginny asked.
“Please tell me that I am at least better than Potter.”
Ginny allowed herself a silent chuckle. Oh, the irony. She had spent much of this encounter comparing Draco to Harry, and now here he was, asking for her conclusion.
“Well,” she said, “I’m not really sure. I mean, the actual ‘sex’ part of the proceedings happened so quickly. Honestly, I think you’d put a fourteen-year-old boy to shame with that sort of speed.”
“Do you thank all people who do you favours this way, She-Weasel? Because if you find that you can’t get very many people to help you out, I think I might be able to tell you why that is.”
“It’s okay, it’s okay.” Ginny patted him on the arm. “I think we’d both be lying if we said that that was anything less than what we wanted it to be. All I’m saying is that, because it was so fast, I can’t really tell if you were better than Harry or not.”
“I’m fairly sure you wanted me far more than you’ve ever wanted Potter.”
“Well, maybe. But if that’s the case then I would be naturally biased, and find you better than him. You could, actually, be lousy.”
“I think my pride is just about to reach breaking point. With this sort of praise, even I might start to think myself a touch too arrogant before long.”
“I’m just trying to be factual here,” Ginny said. She sat up, and before Draco could ask her what she was doing, she was hoisting the both of them off the ground.
“The only way I’m really going to be able to determine, for sure, that you’re better than him,” she said, “is with extra research. Lots, and lots of extra research.”
“Really?” Draco did his best to keep his face straight, but Ginny could see a flickering smile showing through. “Well, I suppose I should be able to help you with that.”
“I thought you might,” Ginny said. With that, she took his hand, and the two of them ran to her bedroom.
~*~
Original Prompt that we sent you:
30 Briefly describe what you'd like to receive in your fic: Snark,
snark and snark. Maybe with a side of smut. ;) The tone/mood of the fic: can be either lighthearted or downright moody. It's all good to me.
An element/line of dialogue/object you would specifically like in your
fic: "What do you mean you can't go there?"
Preferred rating of the the fic you want: Sky's the limit. :) Canon or AU? Canon (tho my canon ends without the Epilogue of DH) Deal Breakers (anything you don't want?): Do NOT want Epilogue compliant stuff, infidelity, gross OOC-ness, hardcore kinks if you go the route of sexytimes.
Art prompt: Anything is good to me, really.
Rating: NC-17
Possible Spoilers/Warnings: Sex, maybe half a second of non-con if you squint.
Summary: It’s amazing what a week’s worth of shifts at the General Healing clinic can bring.
A/N: To my recipient, thank you for the fabulous prompt! I enjoyed working with it. Believe it or not, I was hoping for a story of no more than 4,000 words, but of course that did not happen. To S, my beta, thank you for being so fantastic and beta-ing this monster with your usual skill and aplomb.
Happy reading!
Part 1
Let’s Go There (Part 2)
Saturday
After a glorious eight hours’ sleep (after which Ginny dared to hope that her sleeping patterns were finally normal again), Ginny stood in front of her clothes wardrobe, thinking about her interaction with Draco yesterday. She knew for certain that he was coming today, and she wanted him to feel some the discomfort she had felt yesterday.
And so, she reached far into the back of her wardrobe and pulled out a red top. It had been a while since she had worn it, and as soon as she looked at it her heart swelled with adoration. She’d seen this low-cut, spaghetti-strap, bizarre shoulder-less-yet-sleeve-having number about half a year ago in a store, and knew instantly that she had to buy it. She looked truly fabulous in it, if she did say so herself, and it was the perfect thing for her to wear for this little dose of payback. She put it on, along with an above-knee-length black skirt and classic heels, applied make-up for what felt like the first time in years, and Apparated promptly to the clinic.
“Ginevra Weasley!” Adele, the young, spunky, unfalteringly fabulous weekend receptionist greeted her when she appeared. “You look so amazing today! What happened? Have you found love or something?”
Ginny laughed. “Hardly. I’ve just had a good night’s sleep, so I thought I’d make the effort this morning. I’m glad you noticed.”
“How couldn’t I have?” Adele asked. “Are you sure it’s just sleep you’re getting, because you honestly look radiant. It’s wonderful to see. I haven’t seen you look this good since … well…”
“Since Harry and I broke up?” Ginny finished for her.
“Err, yeah,” Adele answered, looking sheepish.
“It’s okay,” Ginny said, patting Adele on the shoulder. “It happened ages ago. I’m over it. Now’s the time to move on.”
As Ginny spoke those words, she realised, with astounding clarity, how significant they were. For three months she had been walking around like a zombie, not caring about anything or anyone. But now, suddenly, everything seemed different. In the past week Ginny had gone from feeling like she might just die standing up, to waking up energised, refreshed, ready to go, and, finally, blissfully, happy. What could have possibly been so special about this week to have made her world change that significantly?
“I’m so pleased to hear you say that, babe,” Adele said, handing Ginny a folder. “Your first patient is waiting for you. It’s good to have you back, at last.”
“Thank you, Adele,” Ginny said, smiling at her as she entered the room.
“Ahh, Mr McGrath,” she greeted the short, balding man currently attempting to sit on the bed. “Am I to understand that your wife has been practising her Tap Dancing Jinxes on you again?”
As the day rolled on, Ginny noticed, with growing concern, that Draco was not showing up. Concern, firstly, because those salves on his chest needed replacing, and secondly because she wanted her sweet revenge. She supposed he would be the sort to defy medical orders and not turn up, just to piss her off, but as far as Ginny could tell he seemed to enjoy being treated by her. Why else would he constantly have come to her that week, rather than any of the other Healers?
Finally, at the end of her shift, when she was just about ready to make her way home, Adele stuck her head through the door.
“Babe, I know your shift ends in, like, two minutes,” she said, “but some really fit bloke out here is asking for you especially.”
“Oh?” Ginny removed her bag from her shoulder, and her Healer’s robe, immediately. “I know who that is, Adele. Send him in.”
“Okay,” Adele agreed, ducking back out. Ginny spend the few intervening seconds fluffing up her hair and arranging herself into as sexy a position as she could muster without looking as though she were posing. The door opened and Malfoy came in.
“About time you showed up,” she said.
“Yeah, sorry, work held me-“ Draco started to say, but then he turned to look at her and the words seemed to die in his mouth. His eyes went wide, his mouth parted, just slightly, and it was fairly obvious that he was looking her very slowly up and down, and really liking what he saw.
Ginny could not have been happier. Talk about your total and utter success stories.
“Well,” she said, placing one hand on her hip, “who’s ogling now, I wonder?”
That seemed to bring Draco out of his trance. He shook himself, met her eyes, and frowned. “Very classy, She-Weasel. You’ve obviously done this on purpose. Let me tell you now, this Malfoy does not approve.”
“Oh, really?” Ginny asked, turning away from him to get out the change of salves. “And why is that? Is it that inconceivable for you to find the body of a Weasley attractive?”
“Well, yeah,” Draco answered, hoisting himself onto the bed. “Considering who constitutes the other Weasleys of your generation.”
“Ahh. So you’re saying that you’ve found the bodies of some of my brothers to have been attractive also, have you?”
“What?” Malfoy asked, looking unusually, hilariously flustered. “What … I … no! Just replace my skin-healing things!” He took his shirt off with a flourish, and Ginny had no choice but to cut out the teasing and get to business. A terrible shame, but Ginny Weasley was nothing if not professional, when she needed to be.
She started peeling off the salves from the day before, and noted with some pleasure that Malfoy had not attempted to fiddle with them. They’d worked a treat, healing the lighter burns completely and the more severe burns about 60% of the way. It seemed as though she would only have to apply two or three salves this time around, which was a good thing.
As she worked, she soon became uncomfortably aware of Draco doing what she had to begrudgingly admit to him yesterday, and staring at her chest. She supposed she couldn’t blame him (the shirt did not exactly leave much to the imagination), but she found herself starting to regret the alluring outfit. Sure, she’d gotten her revenge, but his current staring was starting to make her feel uncomfortable again. There was probably some gender-equality stuff happening there. Why was he able to stare at her and not feel embarrassed, while her apparently staring at him and enjoying touching him (not that she did!) was enough to make her unusually bashful?
“I have to say, She-Weasel,” Draco commented, after a while, “that your rack really is one of the finest I’ve seen. And it’s not as if freckles have ever really been my thing.”
“I’m not entirely sure if I should be insulted or pleased about that,” Ginny answered.
“Oh, definitely pleased,” Draco said. “It’s not every day a Malfoy flatters a Weasley.”
“No doubt,” Ginny agreed. Feeling the pressing desire to change the subject from anything her-chest-related, she asked him how Scorpius was doing.
“Very well, actually,” he said, and his vaguely leering smile turned to one of adoration - an emotion that Ginny infinitely preferred on him. “He’s staying with his grandparents this weekend, so he’s very excited about that. And so are his grandparents. Astoria’s folks like spending time with him.”
“I see.” This was interesting territory, if not exactly territory that Ginny had wanted to step into. She couldn’t admit to knowing much about Draco’s late wife. She’d heard that Astoria had died about five years ago, but at the time she had been so busy trying to control tabloids constantly asking her whether or not Harry had proposed or what future plans regarding children were, that she had not dedicated any time to becoming more knowledgeable about the circumstances of her death. A sudden thought occurred to her. Astoria Malfoy had died five years ago. Draco’s son was currently four years old. Draco had mentioned on Thursday that the pregnancy had been difficult. Could it have been possible that she had died from…
“I know what you’re thinking,” Malfoy said.
“What?” Ginny looked at him. “How can you know? You’re not a mind-reader.”
“Well, you went silent, so you’re obviously thinking about something involving me, and my past,” Draco explained, as though this were perfectly obvious. “If you want to ask something, you might as well ask it. It’s not like I don’t owe you a thing or two from what you’ve done for me this week.”
“Err…” Ginny’s discomfort was now entirely unrelated to Draco’s staring. Although that could also have been because he wasn’t staring anymore. “All right. I was wondering about Astoria.”
“What about her?”
“Well, I was wondering how, er, well… how she died.”
“In childbirth,” Draco said simply.
“Ah.” So it was as she had expected. “I’m sorry.”
Draco waved her off. “Don’t be. It’s okay. I mean, despite what many think, not all aristocratic Pureblood marriages are totally heartless. I wouldn’t say I was completely in love with her or anything, but we’d always been friends, and in the end we became pretty close. She also gave me Scorpius. So, yeah, I do miss her sometimes. But you have to move on, you know?”
Ginny nodded. He was speaking quite casually, but as she applied the final salve and caught a glimpse of his eyes, she could see some definite hurt there. She applied the salve carefully, unsure of what to say.
“She died here,” he eventually continued. “In St Mungo’s. I was with her. I remember holding my son in my arms, thinking that there was no way I ever wanted to return to this place. And so for five years I was vigilant in making sure my health, and Scorpius’ health, were impeccable. I would have kept on going, for sure, but then this disastrous week happened. But maybe it was a good thing. I can’t very well say that I’m a good father if I refuse to give my son, who should be receiving medical care for his problems, access to medical care, can I? And of course, I need to look after myself too. So yeah, perhaps it’s a good thing.”
Ginny was done. She still couldn’t think of anything appropriate to say, so she settled for laying a hand on his shoulder. He felt her hand there and looked up, into her eyes. For some reason, Ginny felt her heart start to race.
Draco let out a huff of semi-amused laughter. “You know,” he said, shifting forward a fraction, “your eyes are actually kind of amber-coloured.”
Ginny opened her mouth, possibly to say something along the lines of “What in Merlin’s name are you talking about? My eyes are brown”, but Draco didn’t give her the chance. Before she could say anything he had taken her face in his hands, pulled her toward him, and kissed her.
Ginny pulled away immediately. Only one thought was racing through her mind: What. The fuck. Was that? When she voiced the very same question to Draco, he shook his head. He clearly was just as surprised about what he had just done as she was.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m really sorry. That was… I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“Neither do I.” She turned away from him, returning to her desk and pulling on her Healer’s robe. “You can leave now,” she said. “I’ve finished. Pull those off tomorrow morning.”
She heard rustling behind her, then the sound of footsteps, then finally the door opening and closing. He was gone.
Alone again, Ginny traced her fingers over her lips. Her heart was racing, and she took a few deep breaths to try and calm herself down. She did not know what to make of it. It was fairly obvious that she had not been kissed in quite some time, because that brief moment of contact had caused what felt like fireworks to erupt in her head. She felt energised, and disturbingly primal. And this was Draco freakin’ Malfoy, for Merlin’s sake. Who knows what would happen if someone she actually liked had felt the need to break patient-Healer professionalism and lock lips with her.
~*~
Sunday
Ginny slept abysmally last night.
It was hardly surprising, considering what had happened yesterday. She doubted anybody would have been able to sleep after something like that. Still, she was unhappy about it. She had been hoping to finish off her monstrous week’s worth of shifts with gusto, and then maybe go out with Adele. They could have a drink, eat dinner, and catch-up, like they used to do before Harry had broken up with her. There was no hope of that now, since she was so tired from the previous night that all she would have the energy to do after this final shift is make a plate of pasta and pour a glass of wine. It was disappointing, and judging from the way Adele was looking at her when she came in that morning, she was disappointed as well.
After taking a Pepper-Up Potion (and officially deciding that, although she enjoyed the effect they had on her, she hated how they tasted), and inhaling two cups of sugar-laden tea, Ginny saw to her morning patients with as much care and attention as she could muster. She spent her lunch hour in her room, drinking more tea and trying to organise her files. In the middle of the afternoon, at just about the point where Ginny thought she was about to wilt, Adele stuck her head into Ginny’s room, a fairly apologetic look on her face.
“Sorry about this babe, but that hot bloke from yesterday is back. He doesn’t seem to have anything wrong with him, but he’s begging me to let him see you. Can I let him in?
Perfect. Way to end this week with a bang, Ginny thought. “Yeah, send him in,” she said, rubbing her tired eyes with the back of her hand.
He entered, and seemed to note her outfit (the most boring white button-down shirt in the world and shapeless grey slacks) with some disappointment. Ginny would have clucked her tongue and said something about how trivial men can be sometimes, but when Adele had seen her that morning she had seemed just as unhappy about her outfit choice.
“What’s wrong with you now?” she asked, forcing her tired legs to allow her to stand without immediately collapsing underneath her.
“Nothing, really,” Malfoy said with a shrug. “Those remaining burns healed up nicely. I took the salves off this morning.”
Ginny could not have given less of a fuck if she’d tried. “So why the hell are you here, then?” she asked. “I have legitimate patients to see, you know-“
“I want you, She-Weasel,” he interrupted.
Ginny blinked. Twice. She was not sure she had heard him correctly. “You what?”
“I want you.” He attempted to step closer to her, and she took a corresponding step back. He seemed unperturbed and continued to approach her, until her backside hit the hospital bed and she had no choice but to allow him to get as close to her as he wanted. He stopped when there was a metre or so between them, which was more than enough to make Ginny feel uncomfortable.
“I don’t know why,” Draco continued, tugging at his sleeve with apparent agitation. “I really don’t, but… something about this week has been… amazing. There’s something about you, She-Weasel. Nobody else, bar maybe Astoria, has stood up to me before. Nobody else talks nasty back to me when I talk nasty to them. Nobody else has treated my son, the child without a voice, as though he’s as special as I know him to be. And I cannot stop thinking about you. And you… you just had to wear that outfit yesterday, didn’t you? I don’t… I don’t know. But I want you.”
“Malfoy,” Ginny said, before he could hope to continue his monologue, “you can’t do this. You can’t go there.”
Draco looked completely confused. “What? What do you mean, ‘you can’t go there’?”
“I mean that this is ridiculous,” Ginny explained, again rubbing at her eyes. “We’re a Malfoy and a Weasley. We’ve hated each other for years. And all of a sudden you come here every day for a week for treatment, and now you’re suddenly declaring you want me? How can you think that to be in any way normal?”
“So what?” Draco immediately challenged, stepping closer to her. “Who care if it’s not normal? Or if it’s ridiculous? I want you.”
“Yeah?” Ginny asked. “Well, you’re just going to have to be disappointed, then, because I certainly do not want you.”
Far from appearing disappointed, Draco raised a singular, indisputably sceptical eyebrow. “You don’t?” he asked.
“No, I don’t,” Ginny repeated.
“Really?” Draco took one more step towards her, and Ginny was suddenly unable to recall how to breathe. She had the inhalation part down, but was stuck on the exhalation phase. How was that part done again? Draco ran a few fingers through the hair that had fallen down the side of her face, and Ginny found herself having an even tougher time remembering.
“Why are you so tired then, She-Weasel?” Draco challenged, his voice so low, so quiet, that it might well have been a whisper. “It couldn’t possibly have been because you were up all night, thinking about our kiss, could it?”
“N…no,” Ginny said, sounding shakier than the most nervous of mice before the most hungry of cats.
“Interesting,” Draco murmured. “If it makes you change your mind at all, I couldn’t sleep either. All I could think about was you. Playing with this hair of yours, touching this skin. Maybe laying you under me, gasping for air as I start to-“
“Stop it!” Ginny pushed him away. He stumbled, somewhat startled, but not looking nearly perturbed enough.
“You’d better get out of here, Malfoy,” she said, finally recalling the final part of the breathing motion, and exhaling. “If you don’t, I will call security.”
“You talk nasty, don’t you, She-Weasel,” he said. “It can’t be that you’re in denial, can it?”
“No,” Ginny said, trying to make her voice sound as resolute as possible and feeling pretty pleased with the result. “Now get lost.”
“Fine,” Draco said coolly, making for the door. “I hope you have fun failing to sleep tonight, now that I’ve put those images in your head.”
The door closed behind him, and Ginny spent the next ten minutes trying to control her shaking hands. Even after she’d taken that ten minutes, and told Adele she could send the next patient in, she spent the remaining three hours of her shift highly strung. Hopefully her patients hadn’t noticed.
~*~
Sunday, later
After finally, finally arriving home, putting her Healer’s robe into her wardrobe, pulling on tracksuit bottoms and a singlet top, and preparing then eating some spaghetti bolognaise, Ginny settled on her lounge and poured herself a glass of red wine. She took a sip, swallowed, and set the glass back on the table before lying down on the lounge, staring at the ceiling.
She felt some wine on her lip, and absent-mindedly brushed it away with her fingers. The action made her think, again, of Draco’s lips on hers. They were not the softest, she had to admit. That in itself was odd. She would have thought that somebody of his breeding would moisturise daily, but evidently he didn’t because his were slightly chapped. But she had kind of liked their roughness. Kissing them for longer would probably be quite nice. And those long fingers, playing with her hair, touching her skin. Maybe laying her under him and making her gasp for air as he started to -
Oh, Merlin. He’d definitely done this on purpose; placing mental images in her head while trapping her there. It was all strategic on his part, from his lacing those fingers through those few locks of her hair, to her catching a whiff of his strange smell of pine, with perhaps a hint of strawberry. Maybe he’d eaten strawberries for lunch. His lips had looked slightly red, when she’d caught sight of them…
Ginny suddenly became aware of how fast her heart was beating. The hand that had been touching her lips had slid down her stomach and was now dangerously close to one particular part of her anatomy. One particular part of her anatomy that was heating up, quick smart.
Oh, Merlin, she thought again. She sat up, shook herself, and tried to calm down. She decided she needed to move around a bit. Maybe a brisk walk would do the trick. She stood up, drained the glass of wine, set it back on the table, grabbed her keys and headed for her front door.
She pulled it open and nearly yelped with surprise. Draco Malfoy was there, his fist poised and ready to knock.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, feeling her heart race and her cheeks heat up at the sight of him.
“I’m proving something,” he said. Ginny would have dearly loved to have said “what?”, but before she could, he had bent down and kissed her. And, Merlin, it was like someone had lit a very long fuse many hours earlier, and that fuse had finally reached its destination. She should have been appalled. She should have pushed him away, or slapped him, or something similar, for thinking that he could just come to her house (and how in Merlin’s name did he find out her address, anyway?) and kiss her like she hadn’t just flatly refused his declaration of lust a few hours before. But she couldn’t do it. She hadn’t felt like this in ages, and it was abundantly clear to her now that he was absolutely right. She wanted him.
And so she started kissing him back, desperately. Draco seemed encouraged, if his deepening the kiss was of any indication. He somehow managed to kick the door shut, turn her around with dizzying speed, and slam her, quite violently, against it. She let herself be slammed. She also let him pick her up, and her legs wrapped around his waist as he locked his hands under her posterior. Tendrils of her hair fell over her shoulders, the ends brushing against his face and probably tickling him. He didn’t seem to care though, and neither did she.
It was only when he needed air that Draco finally broke the kiss.
“You taste like wine,” he murmured, breathing heavily.
“I…” Ginny said, leaning her forehead against his, unable to think straight. “I… I don’t know… what…”
Draco shifted his hips, and Ginny gasped when she felt his groin press against hers. It had been a long time (far too long, according to some of her more vocal friends), but Ginny was practised enough to understand the extent of the arousal she felt there. It was nothing short of surprising.
“I want you, She-Weasel,” Draco said, for at least the fifth time that day. He shifted his hips again, and Ginny’s hands tightened on his shoulders. “Please, let me have you.”
“You can have me,” Ginny answered immediately. Her hands found their way to the back of his head, and she pulled his hair back enough to make him look up at her. “Have me.”
Draco did not have to be told twice. His mouth was immediately on hers again, kissing her so furiously that Ginny would not be surprised if he bruised her mouth. Still, she could give as good as she got, and she did. Her hands continued to tangle in his hair as he pulled her away from the door, stumbling towards the living room.
Once they managed to make it there, he found the only spot big enough for them to lie (just in front of the currently inactive fireplace), and managed to get them both into a vague sitting position without injuring either of them. He pulled away from her then, and she regarded him with some confusion.
“Something wrong?” she asked.
“No, no,” Draco answered, with a brisk shake of the head. “I was wondering though. Have you been sleeping better this week? Than normal, I mean?”
Ginny couldn’t have hidden her surprise, even if she’d wanted to. “Yes,” she said, ashamed to note that her voice contained some wonder. “How did you know that?”
Draco smile was so satisfied that it bordered on worrying. “I knew it,” he said. “I’ve been sleeping better too. It’s because of you. Or, rather, because of us. I think there’s something special between us, She-Weasel. Something I think we should pursue.”
Ginny raised an eyebrow so sceptical that she was sure Draco was impressed. “That’s ridiculous,” she said. “How could there be something special between us, already? We’ve only been on semi-civil terms with each other for a few days, maybe, this week. And that was only when your and your son’s lives were in danger.”
“Well, yes, perhaps,” Draco agreed, “but tell me, She-Weasel. If there’s nothing special between us, then how come this,” he planted a one-second kiss on her mouth, “feels so intense?”
Ginny tried to make a suggestion; something along the lines of “reciprocal kissing skills?”, but was hindered from answering by the fact that Draco has now planting butterfly kisses along her neck and shoulder. Her attempts at offering a suggestion went about as far as “Err, well, maybe…” before she sort of trailed off pathetically, then gave up and started on the infinitely easier task of removing Draco’s shirt.
Once that was off, Draco stopped kissing her for long enough to give her one of his cheekiest grins yet. “I didn’t think you’d be able to answer me.”
“Maybe I’m a bit too distracted,” she suggested.
“Well, that’s fair enough,” Draco said. She felt a tickle along her stomach, and looked down to find him worming his hands underneath her singlet top. The light touch of his fingers was enough to make her shiver.
“It’s your fault,” she defended. “You keep distracting me.”
“I would apologise, but I don’t feel particularly apologetic. You’re so fun to play with.”
“That has got to be one of the greatest lines ever. Every woman likes to be equated to the family cat.”
“You’re quite snippy, aren’t you?” Draco asked. His hands were continuing their exploration up her top. “It’s kind of impressive, considering how aroused you are.”
“I don’t think you should be talking as though I’m the one who’s more ar-oh!” Draco had just reached her left breast and squeezed it. She had not been expecting that.
“I think we might need to do away with these clothes now, yes?” Draco asked. Without waiting for her to answer, he pulled her singlet over her head before tugging at her tracksuit bottoms until they were gone as well. Ginny managed to remove his belt in the intervening time, but that was all she could do before he had moved too far away for her to reach.
“Probably best if you don’t do anything else just yet,” he said.
“Why?”
“Because if you do, I… well let’s just say this will be a very short-lived encounter.”
“Oh, right.” Ginny tried to get a look, but he seemed to be quite the expert at keeping the evidence of his arousal away from her line of vision. “And you said I was the hornier one.”
“I said no such thing,” Draco corrected her. “I only said that you were very aroused. And you’ll be more so before too long.”
Ginny sighed. “I can’t believe I’m sitting here, starkers, arguing with you about who’s closer to coming.”
“Sex with me is a verbal, and spiritual, treat, princess,” Draco winked. “Now, lie down.”
Ginny was tempted to say ‘no’, but he had placed a hand on her shoulder and lowered her to the floor before she could make any such objection. Thank Merlin her floor was carpeted, or else it would have been really cold, and kind of sticky, for her to have laid her slightly sweaty body on. One thing she had noticed was that she was feeling no embarrassment at all at Draco seeing her naked. The only person who had seen her completely naked before (bar her mother, and maybe several of her brothers after going into the bathroom without realising she was in the shower) was Harry, and with him she had always felt slightly embarrassed, even after several years of him seeing her. She had never completely understood why she had always been embarrassed (after all, she was not generally a shy person), but she suspected it had something to do with Harry always having been nervous with her. He was forever unsure, asking her if she was okay and telling her several times that they could stop as soon as she felt uncomfortable. It was very noble of him and all, but Ginny was fairly sure she had proven time and time again that she was not some delicate flower, incapable of looking after herself or timid about speaking out if something was unpleasant for her.
But Draco, so far, was sparing no time to ask her about her condition or reminding her that they could stop. And she found that oddly refreshing. Perhaps it seemed uncaring, but to her it felt more like he knew she could look after herself, and so there was no point in reminding her about things she already knew when they could use that time doing more productive things.
Like, say, fucking.
“So,” she said to him now, “do you have me lying here, risking carpet burn, for any particular reason, or do you just like seeing how I look all stretched out like this.”
“Can I say ‘both’?” he asked. She couldn’t see him, but she guessed he was sitting somewhere near her right hip. “Because you do look quite marvellous like this. I’m tempted to take pictures.”
“Yes, well, if you could kindly refrain, that would be equally marvellous,” Ginny said.
“Don’t tell me you’re camera-shy, She-Weasel,” Draco said. “That would be an incredible shame.”
“I’m not,” Ginny assured him, “but I was kind of hoping for more to be happening besides me lying here and you saying I look quite photogenic in the buff.”
“Right you are,” Draco said. “Just a moment.”
“A moment?” Ginny asked. “This isn’t a marathon. What are you doing that requires so much prep-ahh!”
Draco’s face suddenly appeared, inches from her own. “Since we both appear to be so incapable of shutting up,” he said, “I think I’d better do it for us.”
He kissed her then, and Ginny had to admit, that was a sure-fire way of shutting them both up.
As they kissed, Ginny felt Draco’s fingers trailing lightly down her sides. She shivered again, and she swore she could feel him smile at her reaction to his touch. His lips left hers again, and he started to slide down her front, planting those butterfly kisses he seemed so fond of down her front as he went.
When he reached her breasts he paused for a moment. Ginny blinked, confused, and was about to raise her head to ask “what’s caught your attention now?” when he cupped her left one in his hand. She sighed, loudly, and flopped back down again.
He chuckled. “Sorry. I just like to appreciate the beauty of something before I start playing with it.”
“Do you play with everything you find beautiful, then?”
“Well, playing with mountain ranges, sparkling riverbeds and several-metre-high works of art takes a bit too much effort for me,” he said, and Ginny allowed herself a snort of amusement. “But if it’s something of a reasonable size, then yes, in some way, everything I play with is beautiful. I play Quidditch with a Snitch, and they’re beautiful. I play games with my son, and he’s beautiful. And of course, I word-spar with you, and you’re fairly breathtaking.”
“Wow. For somebody who I imagine does not dish out many compliments, that one was surprisingly smooth.”
“I try. Now shut up, please, for I am about to suck your tits.”
“Aww geez, Malfoy, you could have at least tried for a segue there-ohh.” Draco had just latched his mouth onto her breast, and a more effective mouth gag for her he could not have found. She knew she was doing a bad thing in comparing Draco to Harry, again, but the comparison between these two was begging to be made. Harry would not have even considered placing his mouth on her breasts. He seemed to be of the opinion that that area was meant for babies’ mouths and nothing else. As a result, Ginny had had no idea whether she liked having somebody else’s mouth on her breasts before. Now it was very clear that she did. She didn’t know whether Draco was just particularly skilled at using his tongue to massage her nipple into submission, or if she was particularly sensitive there, or what. All she knew was that it felt amazing.
Ginny’s fingers found his hair again, and as he continued to suck she found herself guiding him along, navigating him to where it felt the best. To his credit, he seemed to go along with it. Eventually he switched to the other breast, and she started squirming in anticipation. Her legs fell apart just slightly, seemingly of their own accord, and by the time he had finished treating her right bosom as though it were the tastiest sweet in Honeydukes, Ginny was having a lot of trouble keeping still.
Draco’s face came into view, and he looked about ready to open his mouth, presumably to make some smart-arse comment about her looking as though she was being attacked by ants, but she cut him off by grabbing him by the waistband of his trousers and pulling him close enough to take the aforementioned trousers off. If his eagerly helping her to pull both them and his pants off was anything to go by, he seemed to understand her point.
“You sure you’re ready for this, She-Weasel?” he asked.
Ginny looked down at what she assumed was the ‘this’ to which he was referring, and couldn’t help but be amused. He wasn’t the smallest soul in the world, to be fair, but it didn’t exactly look as though he’d be splitting her in half with its sheer magnitude alone. In fact, not that she’d tell him this or anything, but it looked as though Harry might be slightly bigger.
“I think you overestimate yourself, Malfoy,” she instead told him.
He did not seem remotely perturbed. “It’s not the size of the wand, She-Weasel,” he said, taking aim at her entrance. “It’s what you can do with it.”
“Then please,” she said, “amaze me.”
“I had no intention of doing anything less.” And with that, he thrust into her. When he was all the way in, he stayed there for a bit, presumably to let her get used to the feel of something of that girth being inside her. She had to admit she appreciated it. Since it had been a while for her, she could feel some not-entirely-painless stretching going on down there. She closed her eyes, reminding herself to breathe, and then suddenly felt small waves of pleasure radiating through her body. She opened her eyes and sat up slightly, to find that Draco was using two fingers to massage her little nub of pleasure.
Another difference between Draco and Harry. Harry had never managed to figure out where that particular appendage was. It occurred to Ginny then that Harry must have been utterly rubbish in the sack.
Either that, or Draco was bloody good.
As Draco continued to rub her clit, he slowly slid out of her, then quickly rammed back into her. The quick movement sent another, different kind of pleasurable jolt through her, which, when coupled with the smaller, more frequent waves his efforts on her clit were creating, was quite breathtaking. His methods were simple, Ginny noted. But they were very effective.
“Enjoying yourself?” Draco asked, bringing himself forward so that his face was closer to hers.
“Immensely,” Ginny answered. His ego definitely did not need stroking, but Ginny figured what the hell. It wasn’t as though he didn’t deserve the praise.
“I’m very glad to hear it,” he said, pushing into her again. She gasped, arching her back off the floor. She knew she was not going to last much longer. He must have sensed it as well, because soon enough his tempo started to increase. His fingers on her clit started rubbing more frantically, and his pushing and pulling in and out of her got faster and faster. Ginny’s breaths, which had started as loud exhalations, turned into gasps, then moans, and then, finally, into shrieks. As she felt her muscles start to clench around him, she grabbed him by the hips and pushed, as hard as she could, against him. And then her world exploded as she went over the edge, and her body filled to the brim with waves of powerful orgasm. As her last few waves of pleasure subsided he pushed into her one more time before coming himself, with a surprisingly quiet moan of release.
When they were both spent, he lowered himself onto her. It seemed as though the Harry-comparisons were affecting her like a virus, because again, she couldn’t help but note that he would never have rested on top of her. He had always fretted about how much heavier he was than her, and how he would suffocate her if he lay on top of her. It was nonsense, of course, and Draco evidently knew that because he had no qualms about it. She shifted over slightly, rolling them both onto their sides, and they spent the next few moments lying there, entwined in each other, enjoying the rare silence between them.
“So,” Draco eventually said, when he had evidently decided that that was more than enough silence for them.
“So, what?” Ginny asked.
“Please tell me that I am at least better than Potter.”
Ginny allowed herself a silent chuckle. Oh, the irony. She had spent much of this encounter comparing Draco to Harry, and now here he was, asking for her conclusion.
“Well,” she said, “I’m not really sure. I mean, the actual ‘sex’ part of the proceedings happened so quickly. Honestly, I think you’d put a fourteen-year-old boy to shame with that sort of speed.”
“Do you thank all people who do you favours this way, She-Weasel? Because if you find that you can’t get very many people to help you out, I think I might be able to tell you why that is.”
“It’s okay, it’s okay.” Ginny patted him on the arm. “I think we’d both be lying if we said that that was anything less than what we wanted it to be. All I’m saying is that, because it was so fast, I can’t really tell if you were better than Harry or not.”
“I’m fairly sure you wanted me far more than you’ve ever wanted Potter.”
“Well, maybe. But if that’s the case then I would be naturally biased, and find you better than him. You could, actually, be lousy.”
“I think my pride is just about to reach breaking point. With this sort of praise, even I might start to think myself a touch too arrogant before long.”
“I’m just trying to be factual here,” Ginny said. She sat up, and before Draco could ask her what she was doing, she was hoisting the both of them off the ground.
“The only way I’m really going to be able to determine, for sure, that you’re better than him,” she said, “is with extra research. Lots, and lots of extra research.”
“Really?” Draco did his best to keep his face straight, but Ginny could see a flickering smile showing through. “Well, I suppose I should be able to help you with that.”
“I thought you might,” Ginny said. With that, she took his hand, and the two of them ran to her bedroom.
~*~
Original Prompt that we sent you:
30 Briefly describe what you'd like to receive in your fic: Snark,
snark and snark. Maybe with a side of smut. ;) The tone/mood of the fic: can be either lighthearted or downright moody. It's all good to me.
An element/line of dialogue/object you would specifically like in your
fic: "What do you mean you can't go there?"
Preferred rating of the the fic you want: Sky's the limit. :) Canon or AU? Canon (tho my canon ends without the Epilogue of DH) Deal Breakers (anything you don't want?): Do NOT want Epilogue compliant stuff, infidelity, gross OOC-ness, hardcore kinks if you go the route of sexytimes.
Art prompt: Anything is good to me, really.