Ficcage!
Say it with me now: Weeeee!!!
Alright, so I am grossly negligent when it comes to writing fic on any sort of a timetable. I've been telling myself since I got internet set up at the new house that I had to actually write the next chapter of Diversionary Tactics, instead of stare at the outline and say, "Oh, that won't take long. I'll do it tonight/in the morning/after a shower/etc. You get the point. Mold grows faster than I update. *grimace* I'm pretty sure rainpuddle13 will do me bodily harm if I don't get her a chapter or six this week. In the meantime, I've got two cookies as peace offerings.
Ginny set her tea cup down on the table with slightly more force than necessary and fought the color she could feel flooding into her face. "Of course I'm not attracted to you sexually, Draco," she said, pleased that the words came out smoothly despite the rather irritating jig her pulse seemed to be doing in her throat. "Your nose is pointy," she said, searching for an obvious flaw.
He gave her a look of pure disbelief. "It is not," he sniffed. "It's patrician. Aquiline. Distinguished, even, but it's not pointy."
"It is so, and it's too long. Plus, I hate to be the one to tell you, but 'aquiline' means hooked, as in a nose like Snape's."
"Good God, really?" Draco replied with a self-conscious little cough. "That's the last time I use big words to impress you."
Ginny laughed and said, "No, probably not a good idea. Besides, I've got to have something to complain about, don't I?"
Draco smirked at her as he rested a hip against his desk, cradling the delicate coffee cup in his hand. "Pointy nose: noted. I dispute the 'too long' part, though. Most women don't complain about their husband's appendages being too long, Ginny." He heaved an exaggerated sigh. "Of course, I won't hold it against you, since you didn't know that my nose is directly proportionate to my-"
"Enough, Draco!" she yelled as he waved a hand at his trousers.
He smiled innocently. "More tea?," he asked, raising the pot next to him. At her curt nod, he set down his coffee cup and advanced on her, teapot in hand. "I'm really going to have to break you in better," he said, the lower register of his voice sending an intimate shiver through her belly. He leaned in very close as he refilled her cup, his breath fanning the hairs at her temple as he said, "I know you don't like coffee, but you'll taste very good with my morning cup."
Ginny felt her breath hitch. Was he insinuating that he'd like to... No, surely he wasn't
Draco cursed the size of the house under his breath. Honestly, who lives in a house ths size? It's so ostentatious. Mother would love it. He hesitated outside the swinging door to the kitchens at the sound of house-elves preparing a meal. On a hunch, he stuck his head inside, only to see Ginny standing at the oven with two surly-looking house-elves.
"What are you doing?" he asked, his eyebrow arching so high that he could feel a muscle twitch.
"Teaching them to make a proper toffee," Ginny replied without turning around.
Draco walked up behind her and peered over her shoulder. "I bought you a pound of toffee yesterday and had it sent from the shop." He gave her neck a nuzzle. "Didn't you get it, ma petite amante?"
"It was awful," she said, giving him a smile to soften the words.
Draco gave her space as she set the pan down. "Ah, you had to throw it out?"
"No," she said, giving him a look of disbelief. "I ate it, but I want the good stuff. I Owled my mum for the recipe so I can teach Fleshy and Gritty how to prepare it properly."
Draco collapsed onto a stool gracefully. "You mean to say that you ate a pound of toffee yesterday and want more?" he asked incredulously. "Your teeth are going to rot right out of your skull, Ginny."
She grinned. "I'll get rid of all the mirrors so I don't have to see. You, on the other hand, my dear Alain, will have to kiss me goodnight every night for the rest of your life."
He chewed on his lower lip thoughfully. "Perhaps I should look into whether convents still take unwanted wives."
"I think that went out of fashion with the High Middle Ages, Alain. Don't worry, I'm willing to get dentures."
Alright, so I am grossly negligent when it comes to writing fic on any sort of a timetable. I've been telling myself since I got internet set up at the new house that I had to actually write the next chapter of Diversionary Tactics, instead of stare at the outline and say, "Oh, that won't take long. I'll do it tonight/in the morning/after a shower/etc. You get the point. Mold grows faster than I update. *grimace* I'm pretty sure rainpuddle13 will do me bodily harm if I don't get her a chapter or six this week. In the meantime, I've got two cookies as peace offerings.
Ginny set her tea cup down on the table with slightly more force than necessary and fought the color she could feel flooding into her face. "Of course I'm not attracted to you sexually, Draco," she said, pleased that the words came out smoothly despite the rather irritating jig her pulse seemed to be doing in her throat. "Your nose is pointy," she said, searching for an obvious flaw.
He gave her a look of pure disbelief. "It is not," he sniffed. "It's patrician. Aquiline. Distinguished, even, but it's not pointy."
"It is so, and it's too long. Plus, I hate to be the one to tell you, but 'aquiline' means hooked, as in a nose like Snape's."
"Good God, really?" Draco replied with a self-conscious little cough. "That's the last time I use big words to impress you."
Ginny laughed and said, "No, probably not a good idea. Besides, I've got to have something to complain about, don't I?"
Draco smirked at her as he rested a hip against his desk, cradling the delicate coffee cup in his hand. "Pointy nose: noted. I dispute the 'too long' part, though. Most women don't complain about their husband's appendages being too long, Ginny." He heaved an exaggerated sigh. "Of course, I won't hold it against you, since you didn't know that my nose is directly proportionate to my-"
"Enough, Draco!" she yelled as he waved a hand at his trousers.
He smiled innocently. "More tea?," he asked, raising the pot next to him. At her curt nod, he set down his coffee cup and advanced on her, teapot in hand. "I'm really going to have to break you in better," he said, the lower register of his voice sending an intimate shiver through her belly. He leaned in very close as he refilled her cup, his breath fanning the hairs at her temple as he said, "I know you don't like coffee, but you'll taste very good with my morning cup."
Ginny felt her breath hitch. Was he insinuating that he'd like to... No, surely he wasn't
Draco cursed the size of the house under his breath. Honestly, who lives in a house ths size? It's so ostentatious. Mother would love it. He hesitated outside the swinging door to the kitchens at the sound of house-elves preparing a meal. On a hunch, he stuck his head inside, only to see Ginny standing at the oven with two surly-looking house-elves.
"What are you doing?" he asked, his eyebrow arching so high that he could feel a muscle twitch.
"Teaching them to make a proper toffee," Ginny replied without turning around.
Draco walked up behind her and peered over her shoulder. "I bought you a pound of toffee yesterday and had it sent from the shop." He gave her neck a nuzzle. "Didn't you get it, ma petite amante?"
"It was awful," she said, giving him a smile to soften the words.
Draco gave her space as she set the pan down. "Ah, you had to throw it out?"
"No," she said, giving him a look of disbelief. "I ate it, but I want the good stuff. I Owled my mum for the recipe so I can teach Fleshy and Gritty how to prepare it properly."
Draco collapsed onto a stool gracefully. "You mean to say that you ate a pound of toffee yesterday and want more?" he asked incredulously. "Your teeth are going to rot right out of your skull, Ginny."
She grinned. "I'll get rid of all the mirrors so I don't have to see. You, on the other hand, my dear Alain, will have to kiss me goodnight every night for the rest of your life."
He chewed on his lower lip thoughfully. "Perhaps I should look into whether convents still take unwanted wives."
"I think that went out of fashion with the High Middle Ages, Alain. Don't worry, I'm willing to get dentures."