Leigh!fic | What We Do Is Secret (1/1) | Scorpius Malfoy/Ginny Weasley-Potter
Title: What We Do Is Secret (1/1)
Author: Leigh, aka leigh_adams
Characters: Scorpius Malfoy/Ginny Weasley-Potter
Rating: R
Word Count: ~2,300
Summary: The best secrets are kept behind rosebushes.
Author's Notes: This was written for the 2011-2012 Winter Exchange at rarepair_shorts for hereticalvision. Many, many thanks to fiery_flamingo who cheered me on and poured me drinks as I tried my hand at cross-gen. I don't know what I'd do without you, darling.
If Professor Trewlaney had told Ginny that in twenty-five years, she would be spending Christmas Eve at Parkinson Manor as the guest of her brother and his wife, she would have laughed in the bat's face. She would have assumed that the Divination professor had fallen off her rocker for good; there was no way in Dante's nine layers of Hell that Ron would ever marry Pansy Parkinson. He was meant for Hermione. Everyone knew that.
But here they were, two failed marriages (Ron to Hermione, Pansy to Theodore Nott) later, and her brother and his wife of twenty years were miraculously happy. Granted, Ginny still had trouble being civil to her sister-in-law, but Pansy had never particularly warmed to her, either.
Seeing Ron happy, after everything he had been through, was a good feeling. But it also reminded her where her own marriage was crumbling.
The ballroom was tastefully decorated for Christmas; garland hung from the balconies, and a great fir tree dominated the westernmost corner of the room. Twinkling fairy lights cast light and shadows on the buffed parquet floors, and a small string ensemble serenaded the guests as they sipped champagne and danced.
It was driving Ginny mad.
That was why she was outside, hiding in the shadows next to one of Parkinson's prized rosebushes as her gloved hand fumbled with a cigarette. It was cold -- bloody freezing, really -- but the ballroom was smothering her. She was bloody sick and tired of all the concerned glances, the not-so-subtle inquiries from her mother, and the complete lack of notice from her husband. Harry was oblivious to it all. Ginny still loved him -- of course, she would probably always love him. He was her first love and the father of her children.
But she'd realized something. She wasn't in love with him anymore.
"Fuck." Her fag wouldn't light no matter how hard she tried, and she didn't bloody feel like fumbling underneath her skirt for her wand. Her Muggle cig lighter worked perfectly well; normally, at least. And it at least fit in her clutch.
"Allow me."
Ginny stilled as the tip of a wand pressed against the cigarette, illuminating the end with a short burst of flame. She couldn't see the good Samaritan's face, but she didn't need to. Light from the ballroom outlined his tall, lanky form. She would know that body anywhere.
"Thanks." She brought the tobacco stick to her lips and inhaled, breathing deeply as she let the sweet smoke fill her senses. Harry hated her smoking habit; it was a recent development, something she'd picked up from Gabrielle, and she found that it calmed her nerves better than any medicinal potion she'd tried.
Brown eyes flickered over to her visitor. "Aren't you supposed to be inside?"
"Aren't you?" Scorpius' lips twitched as his gaze lingered over her silk finery. Ginny could feel the weight of his stare, lingering over her shapely hips before slowly traveling upwards to her plunging neckline. The purple fabric clung to her frame like water; while it was a tad bit more revealing than she was normally wont to wear, she was tired of feeling dowdy. Harry wouldn't notice if she paraded around in a burlap sack, but she bloody would.
Who was to say otherwise if she'd worn her dress with someone else in mind?
"No one will notice I'm gone for another half-hour," she replied, shrugging slightly as she exhaled, smoking curling from her lips. "But you, they might."
"Father and Uncle Ron have found Aunt Pansy's hidden cache of single malt," he said. "A twenty-nine year old Cragganmore. And Mother is discussing the latest robe trends with Aunt Fleur. Their attentions are elsewhere."
Ginny gave a non-committal hum and took another drag from her cigarette. She allowed herself to take him in, having adjusted to the light framing his silhouette. Scorpius looked much like every other Malfoy man she'd met; tall with white-blonde hair, with skin just as pale. But his eyes were dark -- Greengrass eyes -- pools of brown that looked almost black. His dress robes were perfectly tailored, but Malfoys never wore anything off the rack. They hugged his body, showcasing narrow shoulders and trim hips.
Bloody hell, he knew she was mentally assessing him. His smirk only grew. "I was hoping I could steal you for a dance."
"You know we can't." Ginny's lips twitched in a faint, wry smile. "Your parents... my husband." My children. Bloody hell, she was carrying on with one of children's closest friends -- she was like one of those harpies out of a Priscilla Penwright novel.
The Worldly Witch and Her Young Lover.
Seducing My Enemy's Son.
Perhaps they weren't quite as catchy as Piracy and Pleasure, but they were apt.
"We could dance here," he countered, stepping closer. He set his empty champagne flute on the empty birdbath and extended his hand to her. "Mrs. Potter, may I have this dance?"
She eyed him speculatively, then glanced back around the rosebush at the open French doors. It was a bad idea -- someone could come out and see them, start asking questions -- but fuck all, Ginny was tired of maintaining illusions.
She shrugged and took one last pull on her cigarette, inhaling deeply as she pressed the smoldering butt next to the abandoned flute. "Alright. One dance."
"For now." Scorpius didn't allow her time to retort before her hand was clasped firmly in his and his other was at the small of her back, pulling her close. Their bodies were too close for a waltz, bringing to mind the last time they'd been so close... no, she couldn't think on that. Not here.
But he was thinking on it. She could tell, from the way his thumb traced gentle circles over her purple glove to the slight drift of his other hand, moving lower on her back. His breath tickled the loose tendrils that framed her face. She wasn't thinking straight; she couldn't think straight. Not when he was so close, and it had been so long since someone had touched her this way.
"This is a bad idea," she whispered into the hairsbreadth between them.
"Why?" he murmured in reply. He turned his face slightly to the side, letting his lips brush over her temple. "What this is... it isn't wrong." He exerted the tiniest bit of pressure on her back, but it was all he needed to pull her body flush against his.
Ginny's breath hitched. She could feel every inch of him pressed against her, her body warming in response to his proximity. He felt it too -- if the growing bulge against her belly was any indication. Merlin, but she wanted him. She had to stop this before things spiraled out of control.
"I'm married, Scoripus," she breathed, brown eyes flashing up at him. "I made a vow."
"But you don't love him."
"Of course I do." The reply was automatic, falling from her lips. And it was the truth; she did love Harry. Scorpius couldn't understand. He was too young to know what they'd been through together. He only knew what was written in history books, the stories his parents and teachers had told. He hadn't lived through Hell the way she and Harry had. That sort of experience... the bond ran much deeper than the normal one wrought by marriage.
His grip on her hand tightened, long fingers sliding down to encircle her wrist. Her pulse leaped, and his dark gaze dropped down, fixated on the way it rabbitted beneath her skin. "Does he make you feel like this?" he rasped huskily, his other hand sliding down to cup her plump arse. His teeth scraped over her jaw, pulling a mewl from her lips. "Do you cry out for him the way you do for me?"
"You bloody well know the answer to that." Ginny's reply hissed through her teeth.
"Then why don't you leave him?"
Her wrist ached from his grasp on her, but she didn't care. She liked it. Scorpius was the only person who'd ever been able to coax anger and pleasure out of her at the same time. Harry likely didn't believe her capable of such fury between the sheets -- or wherever the mood struck -- but it was there, and all it took was one infuriating blonde with a smirk to bring it forth.
Her free hand slid up his shoulder to the back of his neck, fingers fisting in his blonde hair as she pulled his lips down to hers in a harsh, desperate kiss.
Scorpius growled against her lips and slid his arm all the way around her, holding her tight. The other arm released its hold on her wrist, intertwining their hands, fingers interlaced -- an unexpected touch of softness in their harsh kiss. Ginny slid her leg around his and curled her foot behind his calf. It caught him off balance and they tumbled to the ground, a tangle of limbs and silk.
She ignored the cold grass beneath her knees as she straddled his waist, pressing the junction of her thighs against his clothed erection. His lips broke from hers to trail kisses down her neck. She shivered, torn between the cold air and the heat of his breath against her chest, and when his teeth closed down on her silk-clad breast, she was unable to keep from moaning.
His hands touched and teased, sliding over her hips until he could move his fingers beneath her dress to play with her other breast. As his teeth pulled at one, his fingers tweaked the other, alternating between fast and slow. It was driving her crazy, clouding her head and making it hard to remember where they were.
In Ron and Pansy's garden, less than ten meters from the ballroom. The echo of violins played out over the rosebushes, masking her gasps and Scorpius' growls. She pushed her hips against him as he thrust up, simultaneously fulfilling and stoking her desire. This is debauched and dirty and so so wrong, but it feels so good and for the life of her, she can't stop him.
Through the haze shrouding her mind, Ginny could hear someone -- a voice moving closer and calling her name. She froze, Scorpius' teeth still closed around her clothed nipple as his dark eyes flash up to her in question.
"Ginny? Are you out 'ere?"
Fuck. Fleur. Ginny's eyes widened, and she scrambled to get off Scorpius and stand before they're discovered. This was why she knew better. She knew that every time she was with Scorpius, they ran the risk of being discovered -- which was why they should never have gotten involved in the first place.
When Fleur came around the rose bush, the scene before her was fairly benign. There was a freshly lit cigarette in Ginny's hand, and the empty champagne flute was in Scoprius' hand as if he had just finished it.
"Ginny?" Her name, spoken in lightly accented French, was curious. Ginny had always envied Fleur; not only for her happy, solid marriage, but for the fact that she had also given birth to three children, but her body looked practically the same. Her hips and breasts hadn't retained extra pounds, and she was nearly as slender as her wedding day.
"Fleur," she said, greeting the other woman as she took a drag on her cigarette -- calming her pounding heart. "What are you doing out here?"
Fleur quirked a brow at Ginny, her blue gaze sliding over to Scorpius before coming back to the redhead. "Bill was wondering where you 'ad gone. I told 'im I would find you." Glancing at Scorpius again, she fixed him with a knowing look that made Ginny's insides squirm. "Scorpius, your mother ees looking for you."
Of course Bill was wondering where she was. Her brother was the polar opposite of her husband -- he missed nothing.
Scorpius gave a quick nod to Ginny and brushed past without a word. She watched him go as she took another pull from her cigarette, then stubbed it out next to her first one. "I suppose I should go find Bill." Giving her sister-in-law a quick smile, she moved to brush past Fleur.
"Ginny?"
She stopped and turned. "Hmm?"
"Do you 'ave your wand on you?" Fleur asked, her blue eyes knowing.
Ginny swallowed hard and nodded. "Why?"
The blonde sighed and stepped closer. One perfectly manicured hand reached out, and she tapped her finger against the side of Ginny's neck.
"You 'ave a love mark 'ere," she said quietly, her tone lacking in judgement. "You should 'ide eet before you go back inside."
Fuck. "How long have you known?" Ginny whispered, her eyes wide. Her hands were shaking as she fumbled for her wand, snug in its holster on her thigh. Fuck fuck fuck fuck.
Fleur gave her a sad smile. "Since you started smoking," she replied with a Gallic shrug. "Eet ees something Gabrielle does as well, when she ees agitated about something."
"Are you going to tell Harry?" Ginny's heart was beating so loud, she thought it was like to burst before Fleur shook her head.
"Non. That ees for you to do, ma chéri, eef you wish. Eef not..." she trailed off, sighing before she shrugged again. "I will keep your secret."
Her shoulders slumped in relief. "Thank you, Fleur," she whispered. Her fingers finally clasped around the hilt of her wand, and she pressed the tip to her neck and murmured a soft Concealment Charm.
"Do not thank me." The blonde's gaze was knowing -- maybe it was a veela thing, Ginny didn't know, but it felt like Fleur could see both sides at war inside her; guilt over hurting Harry against the need to be desired once more. The desire she felt with Scorpius. "I do not envy your position, Ginny."
She leaned in and brushed a kiss over her freckled cheek, and Ginny watched in silence as the Frenchwoman departed for the ballroom. In the quiet, she took a deep breath and exhaled, her breath fogging in the cold night air.
What the fuck would she do now?
Author: Leigh, aka leigh_adams
Characters: Scorpius Malfoy/Ginny Weasley-Potter
Rating: R
Word Count: ~2,300
Summary: The best secrets are kept behind rosebushes.
Author's Notes: This was written for the 2011-2012 Winter Exchange at rarepair_shorts for hereticalvision. Many, many thanks to fiery_flamingo who cheered me on and poured me drinks as I tried my hand at cross-gen. I don't know what I'd do without you, darling.
If Professor Trewlaney had told Ginny that in twenty-five years, she would be spending Christmas Eve at Parkinson Manor as the guest of her brother and his wife, she would have laughed in the bat's face. She would have assumed that the Divination professor had fallen off her rocker for good; there was no way in Dante's nine layers of Hell that Ron would ever marry Pansy Parkinson. He was meant for Hermione. Everyone knew that.
But here they were, two failed marriages (Ron to Hermione, Pansy to Theodore Nott) later, and her brother and his wife of twenty years were miraculously happy. Granted, Ginny still had trouble being civil to her sister-in-law, but Pansy had never particularly warmed to her, either.
Seeing Ron happy, after everything he had been through, was a good feeling. But it also reminded her where her own marriage was crumbling.
The ballroom was tastefully decorated for Christmas; garland hung from the balconies, and a great fir tree dominated the westernmost corner of the room. Twinkling fairy lights cast light and shadows on the buffed parquet floors, and a small string ensemble serenaded the guests as they sipped champagne and danced.
It was driving Ginny mad.
That was why she was outside, hiding in the shadows next to one of Parkinson's prized rosebushes as her gloved hand fumbled with a cigarette. It was cold -- bloody freezing, really -- but the ballroom was smothering her. She was bloody sick and tired of all the concerned glances, the not-so-subtle inquiries from her mother, and the complete lack of notice from her husband. Harry was oblivious to it all. Ginny still loved him -- of course, she would probably always love him. He was her first love and the father of her children.
But she'd realized something. She wasn't in love with him anymore.
"Fuck." Her fag wouldn't light no matter how hard she tried, and she didn't bloody feel like fumbling underneath her skirt for her wand. Her Muggle cig lighter worked perfectly well; normally, at least. And it at least fit in her clutch.
"Allow me."
Ginny stilled as the tip of a wand pressed against the cigarette, illuminating the end with a short burst of flame. She couldn't see the good Samaritan's face, but she didn't need to. Light from the ballroom outlined his tall, lanky form. She would know that body anywhere.
"Thanks." She brought the tobacco stick to her lips and inhaled, breathing deeply as she let the sweet smoke fill her senses. Harry hated her smoking habit; it was a recent development, something she'd picked up from Gabrielle, and she found that it calmed her nerves better than any medicinal potion she'd tried.
Brown eyes flickered over to her visitor. "Aren't you supposed to be inside?"
"Aren't you?" Scorpius' lips twitched as his gaze lingered over her silk finery. Ginny could feel the weight of his stare, lingering over her shapely hips before slowly traveling upwards to her plunging neckline. The purple fabric clung to her frame like water; while it was a tad bit more revealing than she was normally wont to wear, she was tired of feeling dowdy. Harry wouldn't notice if she paraded around in a burlap sack, but she bloody would.
Who was to say otherwise if she'd worn her dress with someone else in mind?
"No one will notice I'm gone for another half-hour," she replied, shrugging slightly as she exhaled, smoking curling from her lips. "But you, they might."
"Father and Uncle Ron have found Aunt Pansy's hidden cache of single malt," he said. "A twenty-nine year old Cragganmore. And Mother is discussing the latest robe trends with Aunt Fleur. Their attentions are elsewhere."
Ginny gave a non-committal hum and took another drag from her cigarette. She allowed herself to take him in, having adjusted to the light framing his silhouette. Scorpius looked much like every other Malfoy man she'd met; tall with white-blonde hair, with skin just as pale. But his eyes were dark -- Greengrass eyes -- pools of brown that looked almost black. His dress robes were perfectly tailored, but Malfoys never wore anything off the rack. They hugged his body, showcasing narrow shoulders and trim hips.
Bloody hell, he knew she was mentally assessing him. His smirk only grew. "I was hoping I could steal you for a dance."
"You know we can't." Ginny's lips twitched in a faint, wry smile. "Your parents... my husband." My children. Bloody hell, she was carrying on with one of children's closest friends -- she was like one of those harpies out of a Priscilla Penwright novel.
The Worldly Witch and Her Young Lover.
Seducing My Enemy's Son.
Perhaps they weren't quite as catchy as Piracy and Pleasure, but they were apt.
"We could dance here," he countered, stepping closer. He set his empty champagne flute on the empty birdbath and extended his hand to her. "Mrs. Potter, may I have this dance?"
She eyed him speculatively, then glanced back around the rosebush at the open French doors. It was a bad idea -- someone could come out and see them, start asking questions -- but fuck all, Ginny was tired of maintaining illusions.
She shrugged and took one last pull on her cigarette, inhaling deeply as she pressed the smoldering butt next to the abandoned flute. "Alright. One dance."
"For now." Scorpius didn't allow her time to retort before her hand was clasped firmly in his and his other was at the small of her back, pulling her close. Their bodies were too close for a waltz, bringing to mind the last time they'd been so close... no, she couldn't think on that. Not here.
But he was thinking on it. She could tell, from the way his thumb traced gentle circles over her purple glove to the slight drift of his other hand, moving lower on her back. His breath tickled the loose tendrils that framed her face. She wasn't thinking straight; she couldn't think straight. Not when he was so close, and it had been so long since someone had touched her this way.
"This is a bad idea," she whispered into the hairsbreadth between them.
"Why?" he murmured in reply. He turned his face slightly to the side, letting his lips brush over her temple. "What this is... it isn't wrong." He exerted the tiniest bit of pressure on her back, but it was all he needed to pull her body flush against his.
Ginny's breath hitched. She could feel every inch of him pressed against her, her body warming in response to his proximity. He felt it too -- if the growing bulge against her belly was any indication. Merlin, but she wanted him. She had to stop this before things spiraled out of control.
"I'm married, Scoripus," she breathed, brown eyes flashing up at him. "I made a vow."
"But you don't love him."
"Of course I do." The reply was automatic, falling from her lips. And it was the truth; she did love Harry. Scorpius couldn't understand. He was too young to know what they'd been through together. He only knew what was written in history books, the stories his parents and teachers had told. He hadn't lived through Hell the way she and Harry had. That sort of experience... the bond ran much deeper than the normal one wrought by marriage.
His grip on her hand tightened, long fingers sliding down to encircle her wrist. Her pulse leaped, and his dark gaze dropped down, fixated on the way it rabbitted beneath her skin. "Does he make you feel like this?" he rasped huskily, his other hand sliding down to cup her plump arse. His teeth scraped over her jaw, pulling a mewl from her lips. "Do you cry out for him the way you do for me?"
"You bloody well know the answer to that." Ginny's reply hissed through her teeth.
"Then why don't you leave him?"
Her wrist ached from his grasp on her, but she didn't care. She liked it. Scorpius was the only person who'd ever been able to coax anger and pleasure out of her at the same time. Harry likely didn't believe her capable of such fury between the sheets -- or wherever the mood struck -- but it was there, and all it took was one infuriating blonde with a smirk to bring it forth.
Her free hand slid up his shoulder to the back of his neck, fingers fisting in his blonde hair as she pulled his lips down to hers in a harsh, desperate kiss.
Scorpius growled against her lips and slid his arm all the way around her, holding her tight. The other arm released its hold on her wrist, intertwining their hands, fingers interlaced -- an unexpected touch of softness in their harsh kiss. Ginny slid her leg around his and curled her foot behind his calf. It caught him off balance and they tumbled to the ground, a tangle of limbs and silk.
She ignored the cold grass beneath her knees as she straddled his waist, pressing the junction of her thighs against his clothed erection. His lips broke from hers to trail kisses down her neck. She shivered, torn between the cold air and the heat of his breath against her chest, and when his teeth closed down on her silk-clad breast, she was unable to keep from moaning.
His hands touched and teased, sliding over her hips until he could move his fingers beneath her dress to play with her other breast. As his teeth pulled at one, his fingers tweaked the other, alternating between fast and slow. It was driving her crazy, clouding her head and making it hard to remember where they were.
In Ron and Pansy's garden, less than ten meters from the ballroom. The echo of violins played out over the rosebushes, masking her gasps and Scorpius' growls. She pushed her hips against him as he thrust up, simultaneously fulfilling and stoking her desire. This is debauched and dirty and so so wrong, but it feels so good and for the life of her, she can't stop him.
Through the haze shrouding her mind, Ginny could hear someone -- a voice moving closer and calling her name. She froze, Scorpius' teeth still closed around her clothed nipple as his dark eyes flash up to her in question.
"Ginny? Are you out 'ere?"
Fuck. Fleur. Ginny's eyes widened, and she scrambled to get off Scorpius and stand before they're discovered. This was why she knew better. She knew that every time she was with Scorpius, they ran the risk of being discovered -- which was why they should never have gotten involved in the first place.
When Fleur came around the rose bush, the scene before her was fairly benign. There was a freshly lit cigarette in Ginny's hand, and the empty champagne flute was in Scoprius' hand as if he had just finished it.
"Ginny?" Her name, spoken in lightly accented French, was curious. Ginny had always envied Fleur; not only for her happy, solid marriage, but for the fact that she had also given birth to three children, but her body looked practically the same. Her hips and breasts hadn't retained extra pounds, and she was nearly as slender as her wedding day.
"Fleur," she said, greeting the other woman as she took a drag on her cigarette -- calming her pounding heart. "What are you doing out here?"
Fleur quirked a brow at Ginny, her blue gaze sliding over to Scorpius before coming back to the redhead. "Bill was wondering where you 'ad gone. I told 'im I would find you." Glancing at Scorpius again, she fixed him with a knowing look that made Ginny's insides squirm. "Scorpius, your mother ees looking for you."
Of course Bill was wondering where she was. Her brother was the polar opposite of her husband -- he missed nothing.
Scorpius gave a quick nod to Ginny and brushed past without a word. She watched him go as she took another pull from her cigarette, then stubbed it out next to her first one. "I suppose I should go find Bill." Giving her sister-in-law a quick smile, she moved to brush past Fleur.
"Ginny?"
She stopped and turned. "Hmm?"
"Do you 'ave your wand on you?" Fleur asked, her blue eyes knowing.
Ginny swallowed hard and nodded. "Why?"
The blonde sighed and stepped closer. One perfectly manicured hand reached out, and she tapped her finger against the side of Ginny's neck.
"You 'ave a love mark 'ere," she said quietly, her tone lacking in judgement. "You should 'ide eet before you go back inside."
Fuck. "How long have you known?" Ginny whispered, her eyes wide. Her hands were shaking as she fumbled for her wand, snug in its holster on her thigh. Fuck fuck fuck fuck.
Fleur gave her a sad smile. "Since you started smoking," she replied with a Gallic shrug. "Eet ees something Gabrielle does as well, when she ees agitated about something."
"Are you going to tell Harry?" Ginny's heart was beating so loud, she thought it was like to burst before Fleur shook her head.
"Non. That ees for you to do, ma chéri, eef you wish. Eef not..." she trailed off, sighing before she shrugged again. "I will keep your secret."
Her shoulders slumped in relief. "Thank you, Fleur," she whispered. Her fingers finally clasped around the hilt of her wand, and she pressed the tip to her neck and murmured a soft Concealment Charm.
"Do not thank me." The blonde's gaze was knowing -- maybe it was a veela thing, Ginny didn't know, but it felt like Fleur could see both sides at war inside her; guilt over hurting Harry against the need to be desired once more. The desire she felt with Scorpius. "I do not envy your position, Ginny."
She leaned in and brushed a kiss over her freckled cheek, and Ginny watched in silence as the Frenchwoman departed for the ballroom. In the quiet, she took a deep breath and exhaled, her breath fogging in the cold night air.
What the fuck would she do now?