♥ "Next Time" for jessicakmalfoy ♥

[fienabler]

Title: Next Time
Rating: Extremely Naughty
Possible Spoilers/Warnings: Smut
Summary:
When you die they make a list
Of every love you never kissed
Of each regret and each mistake
Every choice you failed to make
-Next Time, Barenaked Ladies
A/N: Thanks to the prompter for the great ideas to work with! I have to be honest, I didn’t even realize that the quote was from Peter Pan. I’ve been enjoying it for many years as a quote and theme to the TV series Battlestar Galactica. Still, it has always held meaning for me and I was glad to be able to write my own interpretation. Also thanks to my unnamed (for now) beta. I’ll always associate writing this story with trying to hide my screen from random passerby at the mall as I wrote the smut scenes.

NEXT TIME

Something about him as he lay sleeping called to her. Maybe it was the way the tightness around his mouth relaxed, or the line of his lashes against his cheeks. Perhaps it was his vulnerability as he was unconscious of the world around him. Talking, teasing, seducing, he had some power over her, that kept drawing her back despite her better judgment. Asleep, she could imagine that she had some control over whatever it was that drew her to him. But then, anyone would look vulnerable as they slept, she told herself as she eased out of the bed. It was better to leave before he woke, to avoid the awkwardness of the last time she had inadvertently spent the night.

Every small sound-the whisper of the sheets against her skin, the gentle creak of the floorboards-was as loud as a shout, and she felt her heart rate accelerating as she crept towards her clothing. How ridiculous. She was a grown woman who could do as she pleased.

She was doing absolutely nothing wrong.

Ginny scowled, but quickly changed her expression as she realized that anyone could look over at her at any time. She knew she was being unreasonable. Harry didn’t have any family and hers had always been his surrogate. It would just be nice, for once, to not have him at a family event. To not have to pretend that everything was okay, that she was past the fact that he had left her behind.

She understood, at least on the mental level, that his decision to break up with her all those years ago was for his own protection as well as hers. Aside from the very real danger their relationship presented, she understood that he wouldn’t want to have to worry about her, that it would be an extra burden for an already impossible task. But still, that internal emotional core she couldn’t seem to rid herself of-didn’t want to, if she was being honest-screamed that it wasn’t okay. It wasn’t right. It meant that he didn’t see her as his equal. And what was the point of a relationship under those circumstances? So when he came back the triumphant hero she played along for a little while, but her heart wasn’t in it.

Even after she’d broken up with Harry, probably breaking his heart, he still came to Weasley events. She still had to see him, and for the sake of the family harmony to act as though she didn’t see the way he still looked at her. She was honestly tired of pretending, but what choice did she have? Was there any better way to get Harry to move on? If she brought someone else along to one of these dinners, maybe that would help. She couldn’t help but think of whose bed she had been in mere hours ago. She hadn’t had time to properly bathe and the smell of him was still on her skin.

“What on earth has got you smiling like that?” Hermione asked as she linked her arm with Ginny’s.

Ginny laughed, idly wondering what would happen if she blurted out her real thoughts.. “I was just thinking what would happen if we told Ron that you and I had given Mum the day off and cooked for everyone today.” The lie rolled easily off her lips.

Hermione patted her hand. “Let’s not put that speculation into practice, shall we? The boys take their food far too seriously.”

She would swear that she could sense him before she heard him. It was like a force that passed along her skin, connecting her to him. It had been three days since the weekend, when she’d come across him in the pub.

“I didn’t realize that you had an interest in old magical buildings,” he drawled from behind her. Close enough behind her that he could see over her shoulder to the book she was holding. She could swear that she could feel the warmth coming off him, causing the skin on the back of her arms to tingle.

“I’m interested in a lot of things, Malfoy,” she responded coolly, belying the way her heartbeat was picking up.

“Hmm,” he murmured, the sound sending a thrill through her veins. “Are you interested in any period in particular?”

“Romanesque,” she responded, hoping her voice sounded level. “Or anything pre-Gothic, really.”

“Gothic’s too flashy?” he asked. Closing the book she turned and she saw that he was grinning, which sent a surge through her.

Clearing her throat, she replied, “Yes, exactly. Gothic architecture certainly has its share of beauty, but for the most part I prefer simplicity. That time in history is fascinating, too-just think, new people, new language. New architecture.” She couldn’t seem to control her mouth any more than her heart rate.

She could swear his eyes were twinkling as he responded, “You know, the oldest sections of Malfoy Manor were once a Romanesque abbey. There were later additions, of course, the most prominent being Georgian. If you’re interested, I could give you the tour.” His eyes darted away quickly, then back again. “There are a few flying buttresses, though, so perhaps it’s not for you.”

She looked at him, really looked at him for the first time during the whole conversation. As usual, he was fairly inscrutable, but there seemed to be something different about him that she couldn’t quite name.

“I think...” She paused, about to agree, before realizing that the idea of a Weasley in Malfoy Manor was ludicrous, even more so because of the building’s most recent history. “Thanks Malfoy, but we wouldn’t want your ancestors to turn in their graves by letting a Weasley on the property.” Or your very much alive father, she added silently.

His lips compressed slightly, but she could tell he agreed. “Well then, see you around, Weasley.”

Why had coming back to the same pub where she had last seen seemed like such a good idea? It was tempting to blame her coworkers, as it was one of their traditional places, but she had been the one to suggest it this time. And, disgruntled, she realized that he wasn’t even here.

Get a grip, she admonished herself. He’s not looking for you, why should you care where he is?

She jumped at the smug voice behind her. “I knew you’d turn up here eventually.”

Stupidly, she laughed, suddenly happy. Suddenly aware of how much she must have had to drink, to be feeling this way. He didn’t look any different than he did at any other time, but somehow she knew he was quite far gone.

“Dance with me?” he asked. It was a completely absurd request, given that they were in a Quidditch pub without music and their unspoken agreement not to be seen together, but she was too surprised to respond before he grabbed her and suddenly the world was bearing down on her with incredible pressure.

“Are you mad?” she cried as soon as her voice came back to her from the void. “You could have splinched us both!”

He was, somehow, lying on floor as she loomed over him. Laughing. Resisting the urge to kick him, she looked around. They were in a sitting room in what looked like a rather old building. The room had a barrel vaulted ceiling and what looked like fairly old tapestries on the wall. There was also a much more modern looking bookshelf with variously aged books, and a broom on small table next to cleaning implements. She saw an unmade bed through an open door. This was all she was able to see in the quick glance she got before he brought her attention back to him as he staggered to his feet, grabbing onto her shoulders to steady himself.

He opened his mouth as though to speak, but clamped it shut again immediately, lurching toward another door opposite of the bedroom. She immediately heard the sounds of retching. Ginny sighed.

“You know,” she called as she snatched a glass off a nearby stand and filled it with water from the pitcher next to it, “if you’re going to go through the trouble of kidnapping a woman and taking her back to your nefarious lair, you should at least be in a state to ravish her properly.”

His only response was a groan as she handed him the glass of water.

Something was tickling his face. He absently brushed at it, but there it came again. And then stopped. Draco opened his eyes just as the tickling sensation came again, and realized that it was caused by Ginny’s Weasley’s breath as she exhaled, her face just inches from his.

Startled, he looked around. Somehow they were in his bedroom. In his bed. Ever since that conversation in the bookshop weeks ago he hadn’t been able to get the thought of her in his bed out of his head, and now she was here-but he didn’t remember how they’d gotten here.

She stirred. He watched as her eyes started darting back and forth beneath the lids. He wondered if she was dreaming.

And then she moaned. He felt his cock stir. After all, he’d been thinking about this scenario for weeks. Why did it matter how she’d got here?

Slowly, he slid his hand across the stretch of sheet separating them, and then up along her hip and under her shirt. The feel of her bare skin made him even harder, and her soft exhalation of pleasure as he rubbed his finger across her nipple made his head roar. Leaning in, he sucked on her neck lightly before running his teeth gently along the spot that made her crazy.

“Draco?” she uttered, coming awake. “Draco... mmmm.” She stretched, rubbing her body against him. Pulling back, seeing the look of passion on her face, had him fumbling for the fastenings of her trousers, only to discover that she wasn’t wearing any. That made him even harder, something that he’d thought nearly impossible, and tugging at the crotch of her knickers, pulling them aside, he came to the realization that he was completely naked even as he was pushing into the warm heat of her.

“You’re so wet,” he gasped out as she wrapped her legs around his waist. “Were you dreaming of me fucking you?”

She laughed, a throaty sound that felt like it went right through him. He increased the pace of his thrusts, he need only deepening. Dropping down so that their chests brushed together, he leaned in to kiss her, but she slapped her hand over his mouth before he could. Frowning, he batted it away. He tried again, but she turned her head.

“Harder,” she gasped out, wrapping her arms around him, gripping his shoulders from behind, pulling them even closer together. He obliged. Her mouth was directly beneath his ear, her breath tickling again as she repeated her demand. And then she squeezed and he lost all rational thought.

A minute or an hour later, as he lay on his back next to her, their legs tangled together, he asked, “Would you care to explain why you wouldn’t let me kiss you?”

He saw the flash of revulsion cross her face, and something inside him tightened. “You didn’t clean your teeth after getting sick last night,” she replied, and the sudden relief he felt had him laughing.

“I don’t remember that. Was I terribly inconvenient?” He had the sudden urge to take her hand in his, so he did, playing absently with her fingers.

She was scowling. “No, not too terribly. You only kidnapped me from the pub in front of half the office, got sick all over yourself, and then tried to seduce me as I attempted to rid you of your filthy clothing. And then passed out.”

He turned to his side, studying her face for a moment. Her face was fairly expressive and he didn’t see any signs of real resentment. Squeezing her fingers, he let her hand drop. “I’m sorry for that. You should have just left me to my own self-inflicted misery.” He frowned. “Speaking of which, I should be feeling a lot more ill than I do.”

She turned on her side to face him, brushing a knee against his. “Once I decided that you weren’t going to choke to death on your own sick, I did try to Apparate out, but you must have wards preventing it. And then I didn’t want to go searching the place for the Floo and, well... getting caught sneaking around your house in the dead of night would have looked fairly strange.”

He smiled, imagining the scene if one of his parents had come across her. “My parents are on a tour of the continent right now, but I daresay you might have given the elves quite a fright.” She seemed to relax at that, which was strange, because he could have sworn she was fully relaxed before.

“And if you’re feeling better now, it’s only because I force fed you a small lake’s worth of water and a dubious potion I found.”

“Much obliged.” He took her hand and kissed the back of it. Then, tugging, urged her out of bed and towards the shower. “Now that you’re here, we might as well clean ourselves up and I’ll give you that tour.” Before she could protest, he was pulling off the last of her clothing and hauling her in beside him. “Will you allow me to offer you breakfast, or do you still hold objections to morning-after meals?”

She sighed as he kneaded her now-wet scalp. “I wouldn’t say no to coffee and a scone, if you have them. Or any kind of pastry, really.”

He was glad that she couldn’t see his triumphant grin.

“Do you really think Puddlemere’s chances are that good? With Jenkins gone over to-”

“But Bernard is a better Keeper by far,” he interrupted impatiently. They’d been touring the Manor for about an hour, and somehow their conversation had found its way to the upcoming Quidditch season. They’d stopped in the oldest part of the house, which some of his ancestors had believed dated to before William the Conqueror. It was an open courtyard, the most remarkable feature of it being the inscription carved in the rounded arch of the entryways, still sharp and clear after all this time.

“What does it say?” Ginny asked, looking up at it, her eyes scanning across the letters but unable to make sense of them.

“‘All of this has happened before’,” he quoted.

She looked to him skeptically. “You can read that?”

He shook his head. “No. One of my ancestors wrote several treatises on the building and its history.” Touching her arm lightly, he turned her towards the opposite entryway. “And this side is supposed to continue with ‘It will all happen again.’”

She was silent for several moments, digesting the information. “I suppose it’s rather like the idea of history repeating itself, isn’t it? I wonder what could have happened, to make that idea so very important to the person who carved those words. Certainly it must have been, with the kind of magic required to make them everlasting as they did.”

Something was growing inside of him. It was like a pressure, words he wanted to speak, but didn’t know if it was safe. If she’d understand. But he couldn’t hold them back. He spoke quietly, “Sometimes, when the memories get too overwhelming, I come here and think about the past, and how to avoid making the same mistakes.”

He searched her face, looking for some sign of reaction. She simply reached for his hands, taking them in hers, as though waiting for him to say more.

“But I don’t know. Sometimes I think we’re doomed from the start, that we can’t change our essential natures. My greatest fear is that I’ll act in the same way as I have before, and never even know it.”

She was looking at the ground now, and more than anything he wanted her to look up, to see any reaction. And then she did, and then she was kissing him, pressed up against him tight, and as a sense of rightness poured into him he thought for a second that he felt and tasted the hot saltiness of tears.

And that was how Harry Potter and several other Aurors found them.

“Ginny.” Harry’s voice was low and deadly, his posture stiff and straight. She was still clutching the front of Draco’s shirt. “Would you care to explain what you are doing here?”

“Harry,” she responded, mimicking his overly precise enunciation, “would you care to explain what you are doing here?” She wasn’t sure if she should be mortified or relieved.

“Surprise inspection, I would imagine,” Draco answered for him, sounding more haughty than she’d heard in years. “Welcome back, gentlemen.”

“Just what exactly is your relationship with him?” Harry snapped out, looking increasingly furious.

“Relationship?” Ginny answered. “I- That is...”

Draco took hold of her hand, loosening it from his shirt, not looking at her as he replied, “We haven’t got any relationship, Potter. Weasley’s just here for the tour.” He smirked. “We started with my bedroom.”

Ginny really thought Harry was about to fly off the handle, so she rushed toward him, grabbing his wand arm. “Harry, please. This isn’t what you think. Malfoy’s just- We’re friends, okay?” She nearly winced at the absurdity of this statement. She was babbling now, but Harry looked ready to tackle Draco at a moment’s notice, and she feared for the consequences with three other Aurors on Harry’s side if a brawl got started. “Just take me home, all right?” She looked to Draco, too see what he was making of all this, and a feeling of dread settled in the pit of her stomach when she saw the absolute look of disinterest he was giving her and Harry.

Harry had all but dragged her through the Manor to the nearest Apparition point. Before the echo of the pop of their arrival at her flat had even died down, he was already yelling. A great feeling of weariness overcame Ginny, and she sat down heavily in an armchair, closing her eyes as Harry carried on. She knew that she should listen to what he was saying, that he was only so angry because he cared about her, even if it was too much, but all she could think about was the absolutely blank look Draco and given her as she and Harry had gone. And wasn’t that the maddest thing? It didn’t matter what he thought of her. It didn’t.

“Well?” he finally asked. “Have you got anything to say for yourself?”

Opening her eyes, Ginny looked directly in to his. “Yes, Harry. Thank you for your concern. Please leave now.”

He stared at her for a moment, but must have seen something that convinced him of the futility of continuing because he simply Disapparated.

Then Ginny curled up in the chair and cried as hard as she’d ever cried before.

She must have fallen asleep, because suddenly she was sitting bolt upright, her heart racing. It was dark in the room, but she searched the shadows.

“Sorry, sis. It’s just me.”

“Ron?” she croaked out, squinting in the direction of his voice as light flooded room. “What’re you doing here?”

“Harry’s quite upset,” he said, taking a seat across from her. She frowned. Of course. Harry.

“So you’ve come to chastise me as well, have you?” she replied, working her way up to a really prodigious snit. “Thanks for your concern, but there’s the door.”

“Ginny,” Ron sighed. “I came to see how you were. I gather something rather huge happened.” At this, Ron looked away.

Ginny snorted. “He found me snogging Draco Malfoy. At Malfoy Manor.”

Ron looked back at her, a blush coloring his cheeks. “Ginny,” he said, his voice strained, “you didn’t think it might be a good idea to tell any of us you were seeing the wa- the bloke? I mean-” Ron sighed. “You’re my sister and I love you. I’ll support you no matter what. But did you really have to keep this a secret? You had to know the damage it could cause.”

Ginny bristled. “I’m not allowed to have my own life now, is it? Or is it just that I have to report every thing I do to Mum and Dad. Or you?” She stopped, attempting to let go of some of her anger. “Everyone has to have some secrets from everyone else, Ron, or else we’d all go mad.”

“I know, Ginny, it’s just...” He looked at her apologetically. “It’s just that the last time you kept a big secret from everyone else it didn’t work out very well either.”

She reeled back. Her immediate reaction was fury, but she reined it in. She knew he right, but it struck so close to home that her defenses came out. She took a deep breath. “I see your point. Is there anything you’d like to know, then?”

Ron’s flush deepened. “Is it serious? How long have you been seeing him?”

“I don’t know, Ron. We’ve never really talked about- about a relationship. I suppose we’ve been seeing each other for almost a year.” She suddenly found herself amazed at the date.

Ron winced. “You ‘suppose’? Do I want to know what that means?” When she struggled to answer, he added, more intense now, “Never mind. Does he treat you well?”

She nodded. “He doesn’t hit me, or say cruel things, if that’s what you mean. Mostly we just- Well. We talk about anything and nothing,” she said, realizing for the first time how true that was. “He’s kind enough in his own way, and very attentive.” She watched his blush rise even higher.. “How much further do you want me to go?”

“That’s enough,” he responded quickly. “I know I said I’d support you no matter what, but I simply couldn’t if he hurts you in any way.”

“He doesn’t,” she said softly. Clearing her throat of sudden emotion, she continued, “It doesn’t make a difference now anyway. We’re finished after tonight.”

“I’m sorry, Ginny,” Ron said, standing up to embrace her. Ginny hugged him back more tightly than she had since she was a child, wishing that her big brother still had the power to make everything better.

“I’m seeing someone.”

Ginny’s eyebrows rose. When Harry had asked her to tea, that certainly wasn’t what she thought she’d hear him say. When he seemed to be waiting for some response from her, she mustered up a weak, “I see.”

“I know it’s sudden, and I know I’m the worst kind of hypocrite for not telling anyone sooner.” He set down his fork, looking at his plate. “Look, Gin, I’m sorry about the other day. I was caught off guard. Of course you can see whoever you like.” She could almost swear she heard the “but” he didn’t say. “I know what it’s like to want to hide a relationship, to think it’s the only option, but it’s not.”

She realized with a start that he was now speaking as much about their relationship as the one he’d just told her about. “Thanks, Harry,” she said, feeling lighter. “That means a lot.”

There was a brief moment of silence before Harry continued, “She’s great, Gin. Not at all like she was in school. And Teddy adores her.” He coughed. “We haven’t told anyone else yet, but she’s pregnant. We’re getting married at Christmas. She’d like you to be in the wedding party.”

“Harry James Potter!” Ginny squealed. “Merlin’s balls! You’re just telling us now? I take it this is someone I know, then?”

He looked suddenly embarrassed. “Yeah, Gin. It’s Pansy Parkinson.”

Ginny was pondering her next move. With only a few weeks left to Harry and Pansy’s wedding, the joint duties she was to share with Draco had so far been left unattended, and she was fairly certain by now that he was deliberately ignoring her. He wasn’t to be found at the pub anymore, and she’d even Owled him to no avail. She stopped abruptly, finally realizing that she was pacing. She never paced! She clenched her fists. The problem was that she missed the bastard. Somehow he had become integral to her existence. How could that happen without someone knowing it? Every day, just going about her normal business, she thought of things to tell him, only to feel like a bucket of ice water was poured on her when she realized that she couldn’t. She missed the way he’d touch her, just casually, without even meaning to. She became maudlin when she remembered the way he did this smirky smile, but only for her.

The most frightening thing was that she was beginning to believe she was in love with Draco Malfoy. This was a fact that she did not know what to do with. After all, he no longer wanted to talk to her.

It was the weekend, but there was a pre-season Quidditch match she was supposed to cover today. Once that was done, she would have the rest of the day to figure out how to fix everything.

And then it came to her. It was so simple, yet so terrifying. He either wanted her or he didn’t. This time she wasn’t going to let history repeat itself. She wasn’t going to let him walk away without a fight. Without even really thinking about it, she grabbed the nearest jumper off the floor, hastily put her hair back, picked up her pad and quill, and marched out the door.

Only back from the continent for a week, his parents were already wearing on Draco’s nerves. If they weren’t describing everything they’d seen for the fourteenth time, they were heavily dropping hints about nice young witches they’d met. He covertly moved closer to the bar in the corner to refill his glass.

“My dear friend Rosa would love to have her daughter show you around,” his mother was saying, as Tippy, the elf who served the front parlors and dining room, announced that they had a visitor.

“Ginevra Weasley,” his father drawled, as Draco felt himself go cold and then hot, all before his father had finished speaking her name. “She’s not one of those Ministry busybodies, is she?”

It was at that moment that Ginny entered the room, and Draco’s heart started to beat double time. Her cheeks were flushed and she was standing very straight, looking between his parents nervously. Her gaze locked on his and she was about to say something when his mother interrupted, drawing Ginny’s attention away from him.

“Are you here from the Ministry? I can hardly credit it.” She snickered, looking pointedly at Ginny’s rumpled jumper with the letter G.

“Yes,” Lucius added with a sneer. “Standards do seem to be slipping.”

Suddenly, Draco felt trapped. The whole scenario was beyond surreal. His parents were in the same room with his... his... well, someone he seemed to care for very much, despite his better judgment. The last time he’d seen her he’d said some fairly terrible things. He’d realized only later that they’d been out of an out of proportion sense of self-preservation, but Ginny didn’t know that. He’d barely opened his mouth, not even sure what to say to diffuse the situation, when her eyes snapped to him.

“Don’t,” she said in a tone of command he’d never before heard from her. “If you’re going to say something nasty that you don’t really mean, then I’d prefer you kept your mouth shut.” She strode across the room to him, her eyes periodically flicking back to his parents, who were sitting in some state of shock and amusement. He realized belatedly that as uncomfortable this was for him, it was infinitely more so for her. The last time she’d been this close to his father, he’d probably been pointing a wand at her. His mother’s sister had been killed by Ginny’s mother, for Merlin’s sake!

Reaching him, Ginny grabbed the front of his shirt and actually shook him. “So don’t say anything. Just listen. I’ve decided that I don’t care that I used to hate you, or that most of my family probably still does, or that your parents are absolutely horrible people. I’ve decided that I rather like you, and if you are not averse to spending more time with me, then you should come with me to the match today. You can join me in the press box. It’s for work so we’d have to stay fairly professional, but if you like, when I’m not taking notes you can hold my hand. Discreetly.” She smiled, a faint thing compared to what he was used to. He wondered what it had cost her to come here, and then wondered why the hell he was wondering about that instead of responding.

Pulling her hand from its grip on his shirt, he took it in his, and said, “I’d like that.”

His mother screeched his name, but he couldn’t look away from Ginny’s smile, a real smile this time. And then, unable to resist, he kissed her. It was just a small thing, soft and light, but full of promises in a way that none of their kisses had been before.

“Mum, Dad, I’ll see you later,” he said as they walked out hand in hand. “Don’t wait up.”

Original Prompt that we sent you:
Briefly describe what you'd like to receive in your fic: I'd like something memorable. yeah, that's vague, i'm sorry. i want something that deals with the theme of repeating. for example, something that happens to someone once is bound to happen again, to someone else in a different time & place.
The tone/mood of the fic: dramatic! romantic! angstful! you pick. combine them. mix & match. it's fine.
An element/line of dialogue/object you would specifically like in your fic: "All of this has happened before, and it will all happen again." that line is from peter pan, if that helps you with the idea of things repeating (wendy goes to neverland, jane goes to neverland, etc)
Preferred rating of the the fic you want: any
Canon or AU? you should stay fairly close to canon
Deal Breakers (anything you don't want?): lets see... no irately insane Ron, no whore houses, no anything even closely relating to virginal blood, no Mary Sues or flat characters, absolutely no Harry/Hermione, no incest, no Draco betrayals (don't make me hate him or Ginny please!). i realize i seem picky here, but, i know what i don't like!