(Untitled)

[dmalfoy_purbld]

Characters: Draco Malfoy and Ginny Weasley
Location: Malfoy Manor, then the clinic
Time: late Sunday afternoon
Rating: PG for now

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[fire_n_freckles]

There are times when it's best not to say anything at all. Right now felt like one of those times for Ginny. She knew that if Malfoy had been in a right state of mind, he wouldn't be saying these things to her, and really, she wondered if there was a way to block out all of it. It felt like a violation of his privacy to listen to his personal thoughts when their relationship had never been considered a personal one and at times, not even an amicable one.

Still, it was purely human interest and curiosity that she wished he'd go on. She wasn't aware he'd had a relationship, or really, that he'd been "courting" someone. She wondered who it could have been; obviously someone very pretty. Probably pureblooded. Probably of high status. Ginny wondered if this mystery girl had been very skilled with magic, if she was intelligent, if she came from a big family. She wondered how much Draco liked her, genuinely liked her, and if things could have been forever if they hadn't gone wrong. This made Ginny wonder what had gone wrong.

It wasn't her place to think about these things, and it wasn't her job to comfort Malfoy, but she was a compassionate girl. She knew she had to at least try to be sweet, like she'd done for countless other friends so many times.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, rubbing his back slowly and lightly scratching with his nails. She moved a little closer, hoping her physical closeness would make him feel warm and not ill. She couldn't quite bring herself to tell him he deserved better, so she hoped that he could garnish some sort of comfort from her actions instead.

[dmalfoy_purbld]

Somehow, in the midst of his grief and drunken haze, he sought out the comfort she offered. Draco leaned into her touch, but only slightly, as if he would lean his head on her shoulder if she let him. Still, he held himself aloof, or tried.

"The Pendragon, flowers, trinkets." He reached for his cup, tried to drink out of it and frowned when he saw it was empty.

"What good is the Malfoy name, fortune, if it doesn't mean...if even being a gentleman..." he shrugged. "I can be a gentleman. I...had started to hope," he shrugged, "Not that I deserve even that. HE made sure of it."

Who the he was, didn't really register. Draco wasn't sure himself if it was Voldemort, or Severus, or his own father.

"She was brilliant, adaptive. The way she touched my hair, the way she smiled and held herself high, even at my parents' house. She should have been born to high society. She belonged with us. And it showed."

He stopped for a moment, then leaned back into the couch, not realizing Ginny's arm was still in the way as he stared at the ceiling. "Then, she got an opportunity. And, now, France...means more."

[fire_n_freckles]

Still, words escaped the red head. It seemed better, somehow, not to comment. Besides, what experience did she really have to speak of? A few short lasting relationships when she was a kid. She still hadn't been in an adult relationship; she didn't know if Malfoy had done it wrong. And, even if he had, how can she fault him that? Ginny still hadn't had the opportunity to muck it up.

The idea of scooting closer didn't appeal to her, but strangely, neither did the idea of backing away. True, she liked to take care of people, and yes, Malfoy was clearly in pain. But, a voice in her head told her to back away from him. He's dangerous, he's the enemy...

She couldn't quite bring herself to believe that it was true. The git hexed and cursed her brother, the Trio, in school. That was ages ago, though, and Draco had never been able to cause actual damage. His father, sure, but, well, that, wasn't him, and she'd been alone with him before. Draco, not Lucius.

Now her thoughts were getting cloudy and she wondered which of the two had been drinking, after all. She tried to push away the noise in her head, tried to pay attention to what was being said, because Draco was speaking about the girl. Honestly, the she sounded exactly like Draco's type. But she'd just up and left, and Ginny thought that even Draco deserved better than that. Sort of.

Suddenly she was trapped between the couch and Malfoy. It was awkward and uncomfortable, mostly because he limbs didn't bend that way naturally. Ginny needed to adjust herself, and so she did. She rustled around a bit, trying to find a comfortable position, still not saying anything out loud.

[dmalfoy_purbld]

She was quiet, which suited him just fine. With the heady scent of alcohol and femininity mixed, Draco's head began to swim, as if he were much more drunk than he was.

He felt her breath on his cheek and sighed. There was something very peaceful about the situation, so long as he didn't think, and that was far too easy to do.

Draco opened his mouth to say something, muttered under his breath. That his "thank you" was practically unintelligible wasn't a thought that occurred to him.

He shifted as he realized her arm was pinned behind him, not realizing the shifting brought him closer to her.

[fire_n_freckles]

Ginny had of course been raised a Weasley, so despite knowing she should keep her mouth shut (and despite the lack of words coming to her brain), she tried to force a conversation. At the very least, she was going to get him back on track to his normal self.

"I think I've got some sobering potions in the back," she told him quietly, with her Healer's Prescribing voice still there. "I know I've got a hangover cure or two, at the very least. Could you shift a little again? My arm's a bit uncomfortable."

[dmalfoy_purbld]

The lilting healer's voice she used was soothing, and certainly did not sound as if it had come out of a Weasley. It was calming and gentle.

Draco responded to it and shifted somewhat, and opened his eyes, resting his vision on the flash of her throat as she breathed.

He moaned softly, his eyes not quite rising to her lips as he tried to keep from getting dizzy.

[fire_n_freckles]

She was a little confused by his movement, more so by the sounds he was making. She turned to get a better look at him and see if perhaps, he needed some water. Malfoy didn't exactly seem like the type to 'drink responsibly', and there was no doubt that he was likely extremely dehydrated.

It also seemed unlikely he would be sobering up this quickly. He'd probably be drunk for hours to come.

His eyes looked unfocused to her. Not all that surprising. She wondered what he was thinking about, as she sat there not so romantically staring into his eyes.

[dmalfoy_purbld]

He felt her breath on his lips and instinct took control, he reached up and gently placed his lips against hers, completing what she so obviously had started.