peki wrote 'And With My Childhood's Faith' for sue_bridehead
Title: And With My Childhood’s Faith (Part 2)
Author: peki
Rating: R
Possible Spoilers/Warnings: Umm, all six books?
Summary: Everyone deserves a second chance.
Author's Notes: A huge ‘thank you’ to my wonderful beta for being so incredibly patient when the fic kept getting longer and I messed up all the commas :-D You rock.
The title is from Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s sonnet #43.
Beta: dragonlilleth
( Part 1 )
But the damage was done. People had started to become accustomed to him and his antics, and as soon as Malfoy realised that, he seemed to relax quite a bit.
Which meant, unfortunately, that he abandoned his attempts at intimidation with the readiness of a true Slytherin giving up on a lost cause, and instead reverted to his old ways of vexing a selected few to make the rest laugh.
More often than not, Ginny was the target of his nasty humour, and so while she tried to teach the younger students spell after spell that they shouldn’t have to know yet, Malfoy made snide little remarks from the sidelines that made the lessons even more challenging. It reminded her of third year, when his ‘Potter stinks’ badges had been so popular or the times that everyone had been humming his raucous Quidditch songs.
“Well, I wouldn’t listen to you, either,” he’d say when a snotty third-year refused to flick his wand the way she wanted him to. He’d compose stupid limericks that made her students giggle while she demonstrated new hexes. He’d cackle when she got hit by poorly aimed spells. And if all of that failed to make her crack, he’d outright insult her parents and every single one of her brothers till she screamed at him to shut up.
It was rather worrisome that his acidic taunts were the only distraction in their bleak, sombre lives as the days became darker and autumn turned to winter.
“Oh, will you shut up already?” she snarled one day after she’d dismissed her ‘class’ and everyone had left happy and tired and eager to get back to their common rooms after an afternoon of vigorous training.
He only stopped humming ‘Weasley is our queen’ (now with new-and-not-so-much-improved lyrics) long enough to smirk at her and say, “No. I’m bored. This is the only spot of fun to be had.”
Snorting, she put on her robe, which she’d taken off during the lesson, and wiped her moist brow with her sleeve. “Come on, I need to patrol the corridors.”
Twiddling his thumbs, he kept humming, sprawled on the bench. He had Transfigured his trousers so they fit him a bit better, she noticed, and taken off the shabby robe he had to wear to class, looking comfortable and casual in his green-and-grey jumper.
Vain idiot. Ginny rolled her eyes and turned away to walk to the door. “Fine. I’ll lock you in here.”
“Try,” he drawled, and she noticed with surprise that he sounded wry and wickedly amused, as he’d used to. He really was having fun. It was a nice change from the gloominess that he’d radiated since he’d returned. “I can crack any lock.”
“Why’s that?” Ginny asked curiously.
“Many locked doors in our house,” he said with a smirk. “Many things my parents didn’t want me to see.” He sobered. “That, and lots of practice in sixth year, with the--”
Her stomach churned uneasily. “With the Vanishing Cabinet? The trick was in the lock?”
He stared at a spot between his feet, nodding. “The lock triggers the magic that opens the passageway,” he muttered. “That’s why Montague got stuck…your brothers jammed the lock…”
Ginny considered his words for a few moments, and the low, embarrassed tone in which they’d been spoken, and decided to let the remark slide. It would do no good to dwell on these things, and Malfoy was unbearable when he was all harsh and angry and hopeless. She didn’t want to shatter the fragile peace that they’d found during the last weeks. It was too precious.
Even he deserved a second chance, after all. She smiled at that thought. Her parents would be proud. “Come on,” she repeated. “Patrol. Now. If you’re good, I’ll let you go to your common room after that.”
He gave a big, dramatic sigh. “Ah, you’re too kind. I may go to my own common room, unattended.”
“You know the rules. I need to watch you,” she shrugged, smiling lopsidedly. He got on her nerves much less when he was in a good mood, no matter how much he tormented her with his silly songs and barbs. She was used to those, after all.
“Our lessons are going well,” she commented as they walked around the darkened halls of Hogwarts, Malfoy a few steps ahead of her. Where he took one big step, she took two, and so she was constantly hurrying after him. It irked her, but she suspected that he did it deliberately, and so she didn’t comment. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.
Walking behind him like this, she noticed that he had a very nice arse.
Startled, Ginny shoved away the thought. That was entirely inappropriate, even if it was true. She didn’t think about Malfoy like that.
“You still can’t send those firsties into battle, though,” he said over his shoulder, and she hurried to catch up with him.
A few weeks ago, he’d probably have told her to sacrifice the first years to distract Voldemort while he made a run for it. Could it be that Malfoy was actually learning responsibility? It was too good to be true.
“I’m not going to,” she said, shivering at the thought. “But if they ever get into a situation where they need to defend themselves, I’d rather they know a few more spells than ‘Wingardium Leviosa’.”
He gave her a sideways glance as they walked up the stairs to the first floor corridor where Ginny always started her patrols. It led to Ravenclaw Tower, and like every corridor that connected the entrance hall with the dorms, it was highest priority. Check that the doors to the common rooms were shut. Check that no students were about past curfew. Go to Gryffindor, do homework, and if she was lucky, she might even get a few hours of sleep…
Malfoy interrupted her thoughts by saying, “You’re not going to be able to keep them all safe.” It didn’t sound taunting, just matter-of-fact.
“I know that,” she said, with a tiny sigh.
“Hmm.” He was thoughtfully silent for a few minutes. Then, “So if you have to choose - whom are you going to save?”
Ginny bit her lip. “I don’t want to choose.”
“But if you had to?” he insisted. “I’d choose my family. And myself, of course.”
“Of course.” She rolled her eyes. “Sure, I want my family to be safe, too…but I know my mum and dad and brothers could defend themselves, and those kids couldn’t.”
They rounded a corner and walked down the hall that led past the entrance to Ravenclaw. It was abandoned, and from behind the hidden doorway they could hear faint chatter and the Wireless blaring. Satisfied that the Ravenclaws were safely in their common room and confident that Luna would have an eye on her housemates in her own special way, Ginny strolled on, climbing a spiralling staircase to the second floor.
“Anyway, I couldn’t choose. It’d be too horrible.”
A shadow passed over his face. The hall was dim, but still she saw his little smirk fade and his brows knit together again in aggravation. “If it happens,” he said flatly, “family first. Sod your Gryffindor bravery.”
“If no one was willing to make a stand, Voldemort would’ve seized power a long time ago,” she countered hotly. “Don’t be so stupid and pretend like that’s too hard for you to understand.”
Somehow, that made him smirk again. “Weasley, was that some twisted way of calling me smart?”
“I never said you were dumb,” she shrugged. “You just don’t seem to ever use your brain, for some reason that I don’t get--”
“Because you are too dumb to understand how my brain works,” he shot back, but his lips were twitching. “It’s not my fault you can’t follow my chain of logic, or get my jokes--”
“I don’t get your jokes because they’re not funny,” Ginny retorted. “They’re just mean.”
“Weasley, you have four…five…brothers--”
“Six,” she corrected, rolling her eyes.
“Whatever. Have you never been mean and loved it?”
Ginny giggled. One couldn’t grow up with Fred and George without learning to appreciate a certain kind of wicked humour. “Yes,” she said. “But you take it too far, Malfoy. It’s not funny, it’s annoying.” Well, she might be willing to acknowledge that he could be funny - if his barbs weren’t always directed at her. But at least they were an excuse to bitch back at him. It was a relief not to be nice, sometimes, especially now that everyone relied on her.
He smirked. “I like the way you look when you’re really, really annoyed by me,” he said. “I think it’s funny.”
She raised an eyebrow coyly. “Did you just compliment me?”
“Your anger entertains me,” he told her, grinning evilly. “When you stomp your foot, like so,” he demonstrated, looking incredibly silly, “and you start holding your breath and puffing up your cheeks, like so--”
“I do not look like that!” Ginny protested, but Malfoy was obviously enjoying himself too much to care.
“And when you blush that horrid colour that clashes with your hair, and your eyes start bulging--”
“My eyes don’t bulge!” Before she knew what she was doing, she had stomped her foot, and when Malfoy laughed at her gleefully, she pouted. Well, maybe she’d asked for it. A little bit. Not that she’d ever admit it.
Ginny stabbed her finger into his shaking chest. “Shut up.”
He laughed derisively, and his amusement reverberated through her. “No.”
“Shut up, Malfoy!” she demanded, shaking her fist.
“No,” he snickered.
Now he was asking for it. Ginny punched his thin chest with her fist and relished his unmanly yelp. “Ow, stop it!”
It was her turn to laugh. “No,” she said sweetly, punctuated by several sharp raps with her knuckles, and suddenly, he grabbed her and pushed her against the wall, pinning her hands above her head.
“Ow,” he repeated, increasing the pressure on her wrists by leaning his full weight against her when she thrashed and struggled.
“Let go of me.” Ginny squirmed, trying to get away. She couldn’t believe that she wasn’t able to fight him off - he was so skinny, and he shouldn’t be able to grip her this tightly, but no matter how much she wiggled, he held her back.
His fingers were cold around her wrists, and the wall behind her was cold, too, with the wintery draught that permeated the castle. Shivering, she pushed off the wall, arching her back, and her belly brushed against his groin innocently.
What she felt wasn’t so innocent. Flinching, Malfoy dropped her arms, and when her eyes flew to his face, she saw, even in the dim light of the hall and though he was trying desperately to look indifferent, that he was blushing. He was aroused.
Shocked, Ginny sucked in a startled breath. The light touch had made her body tingle, and her skin felt hot and tight, as if she would burst with this strange mixture of excitement and embarrassment. Their gazes clashed, and if her accidental discovery hadn’t infused her body with lust, his eyes did.
The black of his pupils almost drowned out the pale grey, and Ginny thought faintly that this look fit him much better, dark and rough and needy as it was, than that icy colour he’d inherited from his father. He wasn’t cool, no matter what he’d like others to think. When he touched her, it felt like they’d burn up together.
“Draco,” she whispered, and then she was pressed against the wall and his lips were on hers, cutting off anything else she might’ve wanted to say.
Ginny didn’t know what was happening, but shamefully, her body did, and it reacted like any healthy teenage girl’s would’ve. A tingling sensation spread all over her skin, and even as her stomach plummeted and her heartbeat picked up with shock and excitement, she wrapped her arms around his neck and rose on tiptoes to kiss him back.
He kissed her the same way he fought with her - impatient and aggressive and passionate, like it was a challenge and he half-expected her to back down. But she wouldn’t. She found that she liked this and she wanted more of it. More of this pent-up emotion, this glimpse at him when he let his guards down and finally allowed her to get closer. Oddly enough, she wanted to show him that there were other ways of kissing, too - sweet and gentle and nice.
The thought startled her enough to break away and stare at him, her vision hazy with lust and emotion. The flickering light of the torches glowed in his fair hair, and his face seemed very white against the backdrop of the dark hall. He was still Malfoy, still smirking in a way that got under her skin and made her want to scream, but now, not entirely with rage. He had grown on her, Ginny realised with something like desperation. God, she actually liked having Malfoy around.
She shouldn’t do this. She knew it. But her body had been deprived of touches and kisses for so long, she didn’t want to stop. Moaning, she pressed herself closer against him and kissed him with renewed fervour.
But at her enthusiasm, something seemed to shift between them. When he released her abruptly, she stumbled forward a few steps, almost shocked at the loss of contact. “No,” he murmured, as if the word could undo what had just happened.
“Listen,” Ginny said, trying to focus in spite of the blood that pounded loudly in her ears. “I just…Malfoy…”
When she said his name, his expression tightened and closed. “I need to get to my dorm,” he announced curtly, and before she could move, say anything else, he was hurrying away as if someone were chasing after him.
Ginny stood in the hall, her cheeks burning, feeling both bereft and stupid for it. What had she been thinking? She’d kissed Malfoy, Malfoy of all people!
But no matter how much she berated herself, her body refused to quiet down, and when she finally lay in bed, exhausted and uneasy, her mind provided her with a replay of their encounter that made her blood sing.
It was a long time before Ginny slept.
Breakfast the next morning was awkward. Ginny had had to keep her snogs a secret before, not wanting to upset Ron, but this time, with Malfoy, she felt like everyone who looked at her would know right away what she’d been up to while she was supposed to be patrolling the corridors and call her on it.
She didn’t know when it had become normal for them to sit together at breakfast, but she wished that it hadn’t and she could get away from him for at least half an hour more. She was all too aware of his presence. He sat opposite her, dripping milk into his tea a little too carefully and stirring with excess force. When she moved to stretch her legs under the table, their knees rubbed against each other’s. The innocent touch sufficed. She blushed and quickly shook her hair over her face so no one would notice.
At least he didn’t seem to feel like talking, for once, and she was glad for that. She didn’t think she could muster enough composure to come up with anything light and unsuspicious to say. She’d lost her mind somewhere while they’d patrolled the night before, and so far she hadn’t been able to recover it.
Her head was swimming with images of the previous night, with the memory of his kisses, hard and demanding, and even though she didn’t want to let them affect her, they did. A shiver raced down her spine, and beneath her coarse woollen school jumper, her nipples hardened. She blushed even more deeply. Oh, this was terrible.
What they’d done had been entirely inappropriate, she told herself as she sipped at her tea hastily, burning her tongue. When she sat behind him in class later, staring at the back of his white-blond head, she replayed their encounter in her mind very deliberately and made herself think of every mean, nasty thing Malfoy had ever done. It worked until the end of the lesson, when he turned around and sneered at her, and all she could focus on were his lips, twisting viciously just as they had the second before he’d kissed her. She knew how they felt against hers - hard, but soft, cutting off her protests, her reason, depriving her of her defences till all she could feel was his skin sliding against hers, the heat of her cheeks amplified by his warmth and closeness. The taste of him--
“You look weird,” Luna told her bluntly, at lunch. “Are you feeling all right, Ginny?”
“Uh, yeah. Sure. Just tired,” she replied hastily, wanting to smash her face into the tabletop.
From across the table, Malfoy gave her a look.
She glared back at him, her jaw set firmly. This couldn’t go on! It was horrible, and it had to stop.
When everyone had retired to their common rooms, she dragged him off to the most secluded, darkest corridor she knew with every intention of yelling at him for kissing her then telling him never to do it again, but when she finally whirled around to face him, her stomach flip-flopped and she knew instantly that this wasn’t going to go well at all.
His expression was dark and stormy, enhanced by the dim, flickering lights that made shadows dance over his face and throw his features into sharp relief. He looked fierce and needy, needy for…what? She didn’t know, but she was drawn to him, drawn to that need in spite of herself.
Still, she fought to hold on to the last scrap of resolve she had and said, “I don’t want you to kiss me again.” Her voice sounded strange, weirdly high-pitched and defiant. “It wasn’t a good idea.”
He seemed to take offence to that. “You liked it.” Well, that was true.
Ginny flushed. “I was surprised,” she attempted to explain. “I didn’t really think--”
“Do you ever?” he interrupted, those damnable lips of his curling in a smirk, and with a wild moan, she flung herself against him, grabbed his shoulders and kissed him, just as harshly as he’d kissed her the night before. It felt good, just like she’d imagined all day, and realisation that the feelings of the previous night hadn’t just been a wild, half-crazed dream crashed down upon her.
He resisted only for a second. Then, his lips parted beneath her urgently probing tongue, and the world tilted on its axis. It was the beginning of the end of hating Malfoy, and as they stood in the hall, clinging to each other desperately, Ginny felt keenly that nothing would ever be the same.
One night of snogging turned into two, three, and finally so many that Ginny lost count. It was wrong - not mainly because it was Malfoy, of all people, she was fooling around with, but because she was supposed to be focussed and reliable. On those nights when she was with him, though, a battalion of Death Eaters might’ve walked past them and she wouldn’t have noticed.
He was making her reckless. He made her forget every last bit of caution. He made her feel alive and young and silly and randy and everything else that teenagers were supposed to be.
For the first time in months, Ginny didn’t want to be a warrior, she just wanted to be a girl. She wanted to believe in this, in him. Them. If he could change, if he could start to like her as she had begun to like him, there was hope for the world yet.
And really, someone who could make her feel so good couldn’t be entirely bad, she attempted to reason when she was pressed against the wall, trapped between cold stone and his lean body, and his hands glided along her curves, groping and teasing.
They were tearing down the walls each of them had built up more with each passing day, and since the wizarding world was crumbling and falling apart around them, that was strangely fitting.
She wanted him to rip away all the things that she didn’t like about this life, she thought as he tugged at her clothes, opening buttons and unfastening zips till his fingers reached bare skin. She wanted him to peel back the layers and layers of the good, proper Ginny that everyone wanted her to be and uncover the girl beneath them. She wanted to burn, like fire and ice, and as her skin started to tingle beneath his hands, every slow, lazy caress sending shivers through her, she laughed softly against his lips. This was too, too ironic.
“What?” he murmured, pulling back slightly. His face was only inches from hers and his breath warmed her skin in the wintery cold of the hall.
“Nothing,” Ginny gasped, out of breath from the sheer force of their kiss. “I was just thinking...” She trailed off, unsure what she was thinking. Nothing that she could possibly tell him.
He glanced back at her, his strangely pale eyes glittering. “…what the bloody fuck is going on?”
“Something like that.” She swallowed hard as she moved and her body brushed against his. He was standing very close. She could feel how much she was affecting him, just like she had that night he’d first kissed her. They were so far beyond that already, it felt like it had been ages ago, when it fact, it had only been a month or so. “I’m not sure if I care,” she whispered before she even knew what she was saying. “I like it.”
He smirked, his touch becoming even bolder after that, and though he never told her, Ginny realised that he liked this, too, these stolen moments that belonged to them alone, when the fixed roles they played every day were abandoned and they defined themselves anew.
His breath was cool against her moist lips, and her entire awareness centred on his mouth, those expressively curved lips that could sneer so coldly just before he kissed her with enough heat to melt any resistance that she put up. He was so many opposing things, it made her head spin - indifferent and passionate, glum and silly, scathingly sarcastic and wickedly funny, all in one blond, skinny, malicious package.
He pushed her against the wall and plunged his tongue deeply into her mouth, kissing her so thoroughly that she thought he would be permanently imprinted on her skin and everyone would be able to read ‘Draco, Draco’ written all over her face. His thin, cold hands warmed against her skin, and when he touched her, he was oddly careful, sometimes, completely unlike anything she’d have expected. She hadn’t though Malfoy could be tender, but sometimes, he was. She wondered if that meant anything.
Sometimes, he looked at her so intently that she felt like there wasn’t enough air to breathe, no room to move, and nothing at all in her world except those pale, glittering eyes, prickling on her skin. She came close to figuring him out then, but in the end he always eluded her and with him the reason why she was falling for him. She blushed when she thought about it, but it was true. She never lied to herself, not ever since first year when her lies and pretences had almost gotten her killed. She was falling for him, and even if it wasn’t right or proper or expected, it was good. So good.
“I haven’t kissed anyone like this in a very long time,” she told him quietly, feeling oddly vulnerable. Not ever, she thought, but she didn’t say that. Nothing she’d ever had with any of her boyfriends had been like this - so raw and instinctive.
The tightness of his face eased and, for a moment, she fancied that she saw him look pleased, before he shook his head and his customary smirk was back. “Me neither,” he shrugged. “That’s an explanation, then.”
Hormones. Yes, that was one possible explanation. Ginny had an inkling, though, that teenage lust couldn’t entirely account for this - kissing your nemesis in dark, secluded corners and liking it so goddamn much. But for now, it was good enough.
She squeaked quietly when he put his hands underneath her bum and lifted her up so they were face to face and he didn’t have to bend over to kiss her. It was nice, looking down at him like this for a change. She wrapped her legs around his hips, feeling the telltale bulge in his trousers, and with a wicked smile rubbed the rough crotch of her tights against him.
The expression on his face was priceless. His eyes rolled back into his head, he shuddered violently and, on a harsh, choked breath, he forced out, “Fuck.”
Giggling, Ginny ran her fingertips over his angular face, down his neck, along the sharp line of his throat, then trailed the same path with her lips. His hips ground into hers reflexively when she nibbled at his lower lip, and the friction sent a jolt through her. It was very nice when he hit the right spot. Very, very--
Suddenly, she felt his hand between her legs and froze. None of her boyfriends had ever touched her like this, and for a few seconds she hesitated, unsure what to do. In all her girlish fantasies, she had imagined saving this for Harry. If she didn’t now…did that mean she’d grown up at last? Grown out of her fantasies, till they were too small, too worn out to fit her any longer?
Ginny exhaled harshly. His touch was faint through the thick material of her hosiery and underwear, but she felt it all the same. This was different than the not-quite-accidental touches they’d shared before. This was slow and hot and deliberate, and it excited her so much that she could hardly stand it.
“Let me down,” she breathed, her voice high and needy. “Let me…ah!”
His hand shifted beneath her bum so he could hold her more steadily, but he made no move to comply. “No,” he whispered, close to her ear. “I like you like this.”
At his mercy. No wonder he did. If Ginny had had any breath left, she would’ve snorted. But she didn’t, and when his hand left her to pull out his wand, the rest of her blood rushed south, too. “W-what are you doing?” she stuttered.
“Vanishing those bloody tights,” he muttered. “Now let me--”
Panicking, she pushed away his wand hand. “No,” she pleaded, even as the thought of being bare beneath his hands made her heartbeat pound in a hundred different spots, each of them begging to be touched. “Not here.”
He looked at her from shuttered eyes. “Then come with me,” he murmured. “I’ve got a room of my own - the only other seventh years are girls.”
If she went with him, she didn’t think he’d want to stop before they had gone all the way. She didn’t think she’d want to make him. They both knew it, and the unspoken promise hung between them heavily.
Maybe it was time. Was it time? Was she ready? What if anyone saw them-- No. She didn’t care about that. It didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was this, them, and if it was right to do what her body had been screaming for her to do since the first time they’d kissed.
She wanted him badly, had even come to depend on him without ever meaning to. If he was gone tomorrow - if the final fight came to them and he died, as he predicted constantly, she would miss this, of that she was absolutely certain. If she lost him without ever having followed through on their heated, taunting caresses, she’d regret it for the rest of her life.
She didn’t want either of them to die. But she didn’t want to live on blind faith alone and risk missing this.
“All right,” she whispered, so quietly that he shouldn’t even have heard.
But he did, and the answering spark in his eyes made the last of her doubts go up in flames.
The Slytherin common room was mercifully empty and silent as they entered through a secret door that was concealed in a bare stretch of stone wall. It was more of a dungeon than a cosy den, long and narrow with a low ceiling. Just below it there was a row of tinted green windowpanes which let in hardly any light, just a strange, flickering glow. The air was filled with a distant, faint sound of gurgling water that seemed to seep in through the walls.
Ginny glanced around, feeling a bit stifled. “Are we…are we beneath the lake?”
“Yes,” he said, leading her deeper into the cavernous room, through a doorway, down a few stairs and to a door on the left. “Here.” He opened the door and stepped aside to usher her in.
The room was furnished with half a dozen beds and matching nightstands, but they were all bare and unused except for one, at the far wall. A few books, worn clothes, scraps of parchment littered the floor and furniture haphazardly.
“Sorry,” he said behind her, sounding sheepish. “I didn’t really think you’d…we’d…” He Banished his things to a trunk at the foot of his bed and shut it quickly. “No one ever comes in here.”
Must be lonely, Ginny thought, but didn’t say anything. Instead, she turned to him and put her hands on his chest. “I’m here now,” she said, rising on tiptoes to kiss the corner of his mouth.
He clutched her shoulders desperately, as if he feared that she would run away if he let go of her. Her feet left the floor when he pulled her to him to kiss her deeply and with a tiny, pleased moan, Ginny wrapped her arms around his neck and hung on to him tightly.
He staggered a bit, but somehow got them to his bed before she was even aware where this was going. When he dumped her on the mattress unceremoniously, she let out an indignant squeak. “You have such a romantic way about you, Malfoy.”
He had already dropped his robe on the floor and was now struggling to pull his jumper over his head. “I never promised you romance,” he gasped when he emerged from the woolly garment, flushed and dishevelled.
Ginny smiled at him. He was so boyishly cute sometimes. It would be so easy to like him with his dry, wicked humour and his childish eagerness and that stubborn mind of his, if he didn’t always feel the need to sneer and spit out insults. But she had known what she was getting into. She had and still she was here. “No, you didn’t,” she said softly. She held out her hands. “Come here.”
They fumbled with each other’s clothes, tearing at hooks and clasps and buttons impatiently. More than one ripped off and fell the floor, forgotten in their haste. Ginny reached her goal first: his shirt parted under her hands, and she ran her fingers over his chest, tracing his ribs with her fingertips. No chest hair, she thought with amusement, and pinched one of his nipples. Shivering, he ripped her blouse and swore.
She fidgeted when cool air brushed against bare skin, suddenly very aware that she was wearing her plainest white cotton underwear - a sensible pair of knickers and a camisole that was perfectly well suited to keep her warm while she patrolled the draughty corridors, but did nothing for her generous bust.
“Chic,” he said dryly and ripped the thin straps as he yanked it down to bunch around her waist, then urged her to lie back.
Ginny complied, feeling rather vulnerable. He was hovering above her, trapping her beneath him, and even though he was thin and gangly, she felt tiny and fragile like this, completely unlike herself, lying in his bed, staring up at him from his pillows. But then, she wasn’t quite the normal, sensible, reliable Ginny tonight that everyone knew her as. Tonight, she was someone else, someone daring and reckless.
The thought fuelled her excitement, and the look in his eyes, almost reverent, chased away the last of her apprehension. When he tugged at her skirt, she lifted her hips obligingly to let him strip off her last pieces of clothing.
He shook his head. “Freckles everywhere,” he muttered to himself, and before she could retort, his lips were on her breast and she forgot anything she might have wanted to tell him. It was nice, moist and hot and, oh God, why wasn’t she surprised that he was good with his mouth?
She squirmed when he strayed too close to her ribcage. It tickled and she fisted her hands in his hair and tugged him back to her breast, giggling. “There,” she commanded breathlessly and, for once, he didn’t whine and complain at an order she gave him.
He was very enthusiastic, in fact. He pressed a kiss to her breastbone, then one, very carefully, against the round underside of her breast, and when she hummed blissfully, he nudged the hard tip with his tongue, encouraged.
Ginny’s toes curled into the sheets as he caressed her with his lips, one hand coming up along the gentle slope of her waist to slide over the soft mounds of flesh, over and over, as if he couldn’t get enough of the feel of her. “Nice,” he murmured offhandedly, more to himself than to her, and when he pulled back, she had to stifle a grin. His face was flushed and eager and positively glowing with delight. It was endearing.
He fondled her for a few moments, squeezing here and there, exploring with light touches till her breath came in short, quick gasps. Then, his brow furrowed, as if he’d decided that having his hands on her didn’t suffice, and leaned down to nibble her neck. Ginny let out a long moan and he bit her harder, sucking her skin between his teeth in such a way that she knew he’d leave a mark.
He was panting when he stopped, his cheek hot against her shoulder. His hands were still doing wonderful things to her breasts, but all she could focus on when he moved again was his moist mouth, licking and sucking his way down her body. A kiss to her breastbone. A kiss to her stomach. When he dipped his tongue into her belly button, she shuddered, hearing him chuckle just before he moved even lower and scraped his teeth over the thin skin below her navel.
Ginny squirmed, suddenly not flustered at all, just excited and needy. Her body was humming under his hands and lips, quivering with desire, and pleasure was pulsating through her in hot rippling waves that seemed to build and build without ever reaching their breaking point. It was sweet, sweet torture, the best kind that Malfoy had ever inflicted on her, and if he didn’t follow through soon--
But then, he did, cutting her torment short in an uncharacteristic haste to please…or maybe he couldn’t wait anymore either, she thought faintly as his lips touched the inside of her thigh and her hips lifted off the bed. “Please,” she begged, uncaring now whether he recognised the full depth of her desire for him.
But for once, he didn’t mock or taunt. He shifted to kneel between her thighs, his breath cool on her slick flesh and touched her in a spot that made her body convulse and stars dance behind her closed eyelids. Her heart thudded so loudly in her ears that she could count the beats till he moved again. One, two, three, four and then he was flicking his tongue against that spot over and over and over, and it was bliss.
“Yes,” she moaned, clutching fistfuls of his hair. The rush of pleasure that spiked her blood made her lightheaded and she clung to him, her knees pressing into his sides. His fingers tightened on her hips, holding her down as she began to tremble and shake uncontrollably, never letting her get away far enough to draw this out, make it last longer. “Yes,” she sobbed out as the first wave of rapturous delight crashed and descended upon her. “Yes, oh, damn, oh--”
He was laughing darkly when she came back to her senses, looking smug and pleased with himself. He hovered above her, his hands braced on either side of her head, and his lips were still glistening wetly. He was also smirking.
At that moment, he was the sexiest thing she’d ever seen. “Kiss me,” she demanded roughly, pulling him forward so his body was covering hers. A shiver raced over her skin, half an aftershock of her orgasm, half maddening excitement about what was going to happen next. She felt him rub up against her slick folds and shifted against him restlessly to increase the friction.
Draco’s hips jerked. He groaned. “Yes or no?”
Her heart pounded in her throat. “Yes,” she breathed. “Yes.”
He pulled away to push his underwear down clumsily, and much as Ginny wanted to stay calm and on top of things, she felt herself blush.
He was watching her guardedly. “What?”
The defensive tone reassured her. Smiling lopsidedly, she rolled her eyes. “Can’t I look? You got to explore, after all.” Interestingly, his cock twitched when she reminded him of that. She reached out to touch him carefully, intrigued by his reaction. He’d liked doing that to her, earlier. And he was liking her soft, gentle touch, now. She moved her hand up and down, watching his face.
His pale eyes were glittering like ice. Pretty, Ginny thought, and there was a weird little twinge deep inside her belly. He smirked as if he knew. “You’ve never done this before, have you.”
It wasn’t a question. Huffing, she snatched her hand away and pouted up at him a bit. No, she’d never done anything like this with any of her boyfriends, and the thought that he might have an advantage over her in this unnerved her a bit. When he reached for her again, she stopped him with a hand on his chest. “Have you ever…?”
The tips of his ears flushed pink. “Yeah, sure.”
Suddenly, she felt very much like laughing. “You’re lying,” Ginny countered without the shadow of a doubt. “You’re a--”
“Does it matter?” he said irritably. “You’re ruining the mood, witch.”
“You started it,” she reminded him, giggling, and pulled him in for a kiss.
He responded eagerly and amidst wild, sloppy kisses and urgent touches, they clambered across the bed till she was on her back again and he lay between her thighs, hips grinding into hers. They broke apart just long enough for Ginny to perform the contraceptive charm that her mother had drilled into her from the day that her brothers had gone blabbing about her first boyfriend, and then, finally, he shifted against her and pushed inside.
It wasn’t blissful. It wasn’t even particularly pleasant. But as he entered her slowly, came closer to her than any person ever had before, she suddenly felt a warmth and contentment that transcended the physical. She had done it - she had trusted him with this, with her body and her heart, had committed herself to believing all the good things that were between them and forgiving all the rest, and after a long, long time of darkness and fear and hatred, the feeling was so beautiful that it brought tears to her eyes.
She looked up at him, his face blurry above her, saw his expression of shock and wonder, and knew that he felt it too. They could never go back now to what they’d been before. No matter what would become of them, they would always have this, together. And just then, Ginny believed with all the fervour of her seventeen years that everything would be all right. They would live to find out what the future held for them.
His arms were trembling with the strain of holding himself up, staying still inside her. “I want to move,” he gasped.
She giggled at that. “Who’s stopping you?”
His face was scrunched up and tight with need. “You’re crying,” he panted.
“No, I’m not,” she murmured, angling her shaky legs so she could wrap them around his hips, pushing him towards her. Her body felt sore when he slid deeper inside her, tingling with a slight burn, but it wasn’t entirely painful. Encouraged, she put her hands on his shoulders and pulled his body flush against hers.
He made a low, strangled sound, deep in his throat. “Ginny…”
She shivered violently. He had never called her that before, never. It got under her skin more than any caress could have. Everything else between them might be explained away with lust, need, loneliness…but that breathless gasp spoke of something more. Something new. “What are you waiting for?” she challenged hoarsely. “Get to it, you tease.”
Her fingers slid over his sweat-slicked back when he began to thrust frantically, digging deeply into his skin. The hard angles of his thin body bumped into hers uncomfortably, but after a few moments of wiggling and fumbling, she found that when she tilted her hips just so and arched her back, her softness cushioned his rough motions.
“Yes,” she whispered, matching his rhythm with her own. She liked this - moving together instead of taking turns touching each other. It was a myriad of sensations all at once, inside and out, body and soul…his breath on her neck, rapid and harsh, his heartbeat echoing through her, the moist slide of his skin against hers, his hard length inside her, and if she raised her hips just a bit more, maybe, maybe--
His spine rippled, his back arched, a second before his whole body went rigid above her, and then he was shaking and jerking convulsively, crying out with relief. On the last erratic thrust, he slipped out of her, and she felt hot, sticky liquid slide down the inside of her thigh.
After a moment, he lifted himself off her, and she saw his chin wobble with embarrassment. Then, his eyes hardened and his face twisted darkly, and she knew that he would try to hurt her now, just so she couldn’t hurt him first. “Ah well,” he said, sounding hoarse though she could tell that he wanted desperately to appear indifferent. “It’s not like it was more than a--”
“Stop,” she said sharply.
He actually broke off, looking stunned, and she wondered if anyone had ever really stood up to him in the eighteen years of his life. His friends had certainly never seemed to.
He needed a bit of that, she decided. She put her hands on his shoulders, forcing him to stay atop her, look into her eyes. “I was here with you all this time, you know,” she said, smiling slightly, “So I know exactly what it was, and what it wasn’t. Shut up, Malfoy.”
He scowled, but he looked more unhappy than vicious. “I just wanted--”
“I think I know that, too,” she told him, kissing the tip of his pointy chin.
Draco shook his head, a deep crease between his brows. “Don’t be like that.”
“Like what?” Ginny asked, rubbing his shoulders gently.
He seemed to struggle with the words, which was a rare occurrence for him. She watched him with satisfaction, thinking that she had done that to him.
“Nice,” he finally said. His lip curled with his customary sneer as a new thought struck him. “And if you tell me that it’s all right and it happens to everyone, I’ll curse you.”
She felt uncontrollable laughter bubble up inside her, and quickly, before it could burst out of her and damage his fragile male ego even more, she pulled him down to her to kiss him deeply. “I think,” she gasped, when they broke apart for air, “that we should stop talking now.”
“But--” he protested before she cut him off.
“Say, Malfoy,” she said, peering up at him impishly, “if I perform a quick Cleaning Charm, can you do again what you did to me earlier?”
She watched as his expression turned from irritated to confused to pleased in a matter of seconds. He had an incredibly expressive face, full of vivid emotion when he let his guard down. It was such a shame that he only ever looked mean and malicious in public.
“Yes, all right,” he drawled finally. “If you’d like.”
Inwardly rolling her eyes, Ginny fluttered her eyelashes and purred, “Please,” and he actually snorted out a laugh.
“I’ve got a better idea than Cleaning Charms,” he said, rolling off her and climbing out of the bed. He Accioed their clothes and handed her her blouse and skirt to put back on. No underwear, she noted with amusement. “The Prefects’ bathroom is just two doors down.”
“You’re not a Prefect, though,” she pointed out as she slid off the bed, crouching to search for her shoes. She felt sticky and sore when she moved. A hot bath would be wonderful.
“I got the password out of one of the fifth years, two days after I came back,” he shrugged.
She felt his eyes on her while she tied her shoelaces, and when she glanced up, he was looking at her quizzically. “What is it?” she asked softly.
He buried his hands in the pockets of his trousers, shifting from left foot to right. “Are you--”
“If you ask me if I’m all right or if it hurt, I’ll curse you,” she teased.
His serious expression lifted, his posture eased, and she knew that he had indeed wanted to ask her something along those lines. The thought pleased her, even though she didn’t care to have such a sappy, clichéd pillow talk.
“So where’s that bathroom?” she asked, instead.
He led her down the deserted corridor to show her, and it was a long time till they came back out.
Ginny woke up feeling suffocated and disoriented. When she opened her eyes, there was darkness all around her, and for a moment she panicked, until she realised that her face was covered with a dusty, velvety fabric that must belong to the bed curtains.
She struggled to get it off, and when she had finally untangled herself and was able to breathe once more, she saw in the light of the fire that came from the grate that the curtain she was clutching was deep green, not the familiar red.
Oh. Right.
She cautiously rolled over, and when she saw her bedpartner’s sleeping, peaceful face, her heart skipped a beat, the memories of what they’d done flooding her mind all at once. Chuckling quietly, she reached out to brush his longish hair off his forehead. She knew she should feel guilty because of Harry and her family, and because she’d hated Malfoy since she’d been a child and she had sworn to herself that she would hate him till the day she died. But now, she couldn’t. She couldn’t, not when she felt all warm and happy and content and Draco was smiling in his sleep. He actually looked cute.
But right then, he ruined the pretty image by pursing his lips. “Hmph,” he muttered sleepily. “Time to get up yet?” He didn’t seem at all surprised to find her in his bed.
“I don’t think so,” Ginny murmured, stroking his brow. “Hard to tell, without windows.”
He turned his face into the pillows, pouting sleepily. “Clock. Mantelpiece.”
“Lumos,” Ginny chuckled, and by the added light of her wandtip, she could see that the hands on the large, antique clock pointed at ‘five’ and ‘two’. “It’s ten past five.”
“Good,” he muttered, grabbing her around the waist to pull her back down. “Sleep some more.”
“I should get back to my dorm,” she said. “Before anyone else gets up.”
His brow furrowed beneath her gently stroking fingers. “So no one will know you were here?”
“So we won’t get in trouble,” she corrected. “You know this kind of thing would land us in detention, especially now.”
He cracked open an eye. “Totally worth it,” he smirked, and in spite of herself, Ginny felt stupidly flattered. “Besides, I would love to see McGonagall get all flustered - my father once told me how she caught him and mum sneaking around after hours--”
“Doing much more sinister things than we have, I’m sure,” she finished dryly.
“Nah,” he yawned. “I think they were snogging when she came upon them, but I don’t want to go into that.” He made a face as if she’d forced him to suck a lemon, and Ginny laughed.
“I can’t imagine your parents doing that,” she told him, snuggling into the soft sheets again. Five more minutes, then she’d dress and go back to Gryffindor.
“Good. Let’s not,” he muttered and, to distract them both, started to touch her under the blankets.
For a moment, Ginny basked in the pleasant feeling. They could try again…do something else this time, get in some more practice…but then, she moved her legs and felt how sore she still was. And she really needed to get back to her dorm, not find new creative ways to shag him!
“No,” she gasped, swatting away his hands. “Not now…stop, Draco, I mean it…no!”
When she realised that the only way to make him stop was to leave, she rolled out of bed regretfully and moved back, out of his reach. He made a whining noise. “Come here.”
She’d never thought he would ever beg her to come back to his bed. But then, she’d never fancied she’d ever stand in the Slytherin boys’ dorms, stark naked and freezing. Hastily, she Accioed her clothes.
He watched her as she put them on with a cross look on his face. “There’s still lots of time before the others get up.”
Her leg trembled as she raised one foot to pull on her tights. Her whole body felt pleasantly numb and heavy. It would’ve been so nice to go back to bed. “The girls in my dorm are terrible gossips. I don’t want them to find out I was gone all night,” she said.
“Tell them you were investigating…something. Suspicious activities.” He shrugged, smirking. “It’s true, in a way.”
Ginny rolled her eyes. “Not quite. I need to go…”
He sat up in bed. His eyes gleamed wickedly. “What, you’re leaving like this? No manners.”
She sighed softly, wondering how she’d ever found him unattractive. Granted, he wasn’t the most handsome of blokes, but something about him always caught her interest. Every time she looked at him, she discovered some new facet that she hadn’t expected. Perhaps it was because she’d only ever seen him as a nasty, evil git. Or perhaps it was because he looked at the world so very differently than she did.
The mattress dipped gently under her weight when she braced one knee on the bed. She intended to give him one kiss and then go, but one turned into two, two into three, and it was a long time till she actually managed to pull away and straighten her clothes again.
“Sleep some more, I’ll see you later,” she told him, retreating.
“No, no, I’m getting up too.” He grinned wolfishly. “I’m hungry.”
Ginny snorted. “Early breakfast sounds good, yes.”
He rubbed his rumbling stomach. “And regular breakfast, after that.” Catching himself, he grunted softly as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. “Damn, I’m turning into Crabbe and Goyle.”
“Hardly,” she laughed with a pointed look at his skinny body, and escaped before he could grab her again. She was still chuckling when she climbed the stairs to the entrance hall.
( Part 3 )
( Part 4 )
ORIGINAL REQUEST:
BRIEFLY describe what you’d like to recieve: A 7th-year fic (it can be either Draco's or Ginny's) that incorporates the events of HBP. I do not want to see Ginny tortured or hurt. I'd like them to be together (by choice) at the end without being pure fluff.
The tone/mood of the fic: Suspense, mystery, or drama (or some combination) along with a bit of humor, if you can manage it. A surprise ending would be great but not absolutely necessary.
A theme/element/line of dialogue/object you want in your fic: "I hated you then. But I started to think differently about you when" and then fill in the rest however you want. Either Draco or Ginny can say that, but one of them must say it and his/her reason. (Please try not to be predictable on this part - surprise me!)
Canon or AU? Canon preferred.
Rating of the fic you want: Any
Deal breakers (what don’t you want): Total smut, fluff, or depressing angst.
Author: peki
Rating: R
Possible Spoilers/Warnings: Umm, all six books?
Summary: Everyone deserves a second chance.
Author's Notes: A huge ‘thank you’ to my wonderful beta for being so incredibly patient when the fic kept getting longer and I messed up all the commas :-D You rock.
The title is from Elizabeth Barrett Browning’s sonnet #43.
Beta: dragonlilleth
( Part 1 )
But the damage was done. People had started to become accustomed to him and his antics, and as soon as Malfoy realised that, he seemed to relax quite a bit.
Which meant, unfortunately, that he abandoned his attempts at intimidation with the readiness of a true Slytherin giving up on a lost cause, and instead reverted to his old ways of vexing a selected few to make the rest laugh.
More often than not, Ginny was the target of his nasty humour, and so while she tried to teach the younger students spell after spell that they shouldn’t have to know yet, Malfoy made snide little remarks from the sidelines that made the lessons even more challenging. It reminded her of third year, when his ‘Potter stinks’ badges had been so popular or the times that everyone had been humming his raucous Quidditch songs.
“Well, I wouldn’t listen to you, either,” he’d say when a snotty third-year refused to flick his wand the way she wanted him to. He’d compose stupid limericks that made her students giggle while she demonstrated new hexes. He’d cackle when she got hit by poorly aimed spells. And if all of that failed to make her crack, he’d outright insult her parents and every single one of her brothers till she screamed at him to shut up.
It was rather worrisome that his acidic taunts were the only distraction in their bleak, sombre lives as the days became darker and autumn turned to winter.
“Oh, will you shut up already?” she snarled one day after she’d dismissed her ‘class’ and everyone had left happy and tired and eager to get back to their common rooms after an afternoon of vigorous training.
He only stopped humming ‘Weasley is our queen’ (now with new-and-not-so-much-improved lyrics) long enough to smirk at her and say, “No. I’m bored. This is the only spot of fun to be had.”
Snorting, she put on her robe, which she’d taken off during the lesson, and wiped her moist brow with her sleeve. “Come on, I need to patrol the corridors.”
Twiddling his thumbs, he kept humming, sprawled on the bench. He had Transfigured his trousers so they fit him a bit better, she noticed, and taken off the shabby robe he had to wear to class, looking comfortable and casual in his green-and-grey jumper.
Vain idiot. Ginny rolled her eyes and turned away to walk to the door. “Fine. I’ll lock you in here.”
“Try,” he drawled, and she noticed with surprise that he sounded wry and wickedly amused, as he’d used to. He really was having fun. It was a nice change from the gloominess that he’d radiated since he’d returned. “I can crack any lock.”
“Why’s that?” Ginny asked curiously.
“Many locked doors in our house,” he said with a smirk. “Many things my parents didn’t want me to see.” He sobered. “That, and lots of practice in sixth year, with the--”
Her stomach churned uneasily. “With the Vanishing Cabinet? The trick was in the lock?”
He stared at a spot between his feet, nodding. “The lock triggers the magic that opens the passageway,” he muttered. “That’s why Montague got stuck…your brothers jammed the lock…”
Ginny considered his words for a few moments, and the low, embarrassed tone in which they’d been spoken, and decided to let the remark slide. It would do no good to dwell on these things, and Malfoy was unbearable when he was all harsh and angry and hopeless. She didn’t want to shatter the fragile peace that they’d found during the last weeks. It was too precious.
Even he deserved a second chance, after all. She smiled at that thought. Her parents would be proud. “Come on,” she repeated. “Patrol. Now. If you’re good, I’ll let you go to your common room after that.”
He gave a big, dramatic sigh. “Ah, you’re too kind. I may go to my own common room, unattended.”
“You know the rules. I need to watch you,” she shrugged, smiling lopsidedly. He got on her nerves much less when he was in a good mood, no matter how much he tormented her with his silly songs and barbs. She was used to those, after all.
“Our lessons are going well,” she commented as they walked around the darkened halls of Hogwarts, Malfoy a few steps ahead of her. Where he took one big step, she took two, and so she was constantly hurrying after him. It irked her, but she suspected that he did it deliberately, and so she didn’t comment. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.
Walking behind him like this, she noticed that he had a very nice arse.
Startled, Ginny shoved away the thought. That was entirely inappropriate, even if it was true. She didn’t think about Malfoy like that.
“You still can’t send those firsties into battle, though,” he said over his shoulder, and she hurried to catch up with him.
A few weeks ago, he’d probably have told her to sacrifice the first years to distract Voldemort while he made a run for it. Could it be that Malfoy was actually learning responsibility? It was too good to be true.
“I’m not going to,” she said, shivering at the thought. “But if they ever get into a situation where they need to defend themselves, I’d rather they know a few more spells than ‘Wingardium Leviosa’.”
He gave her a sideways glance as they walked up the stairs to the first floor corridor where Ginny always started her patrols. It led to Ravenclaw Tower, and like every corridor that connected the entrance hall with the dorms, it was highest priority. Check that the doors to the common rooms were shut. Check that no students were about past curfew. Go to Gryffindor, do homework, and if she was lucky, she might even get a few hours of sleep…
Malfoy interrupted her thoughts by saying, “You’re not going to be able to keep them all safe.” It didn’t sound taunting, just matter-of-fact.
“I know that,” she said, with a tiny sigh.
“Hmm.” He was thoughtfully silent for a few minutes. Then, “So if you have to choose - whom are you going to save?”
Ginny bit her lip. “I don’t want to choose.”
“But if you had to?” he insisted. “I’d choose my family. And myself, of course.”
“Of course.” She rolled her eyes. “Sure, I want my family to be safe, too…but I know my mum and dad and brothers could defend themselves, and those kids couldn’t.”
They rounded a corner and walked down the hall that led past the entrance to Ravenclaw. It was abandoned, and from behind the hidden doorway they could hear faint chatter and the Wireless blaring. Satisfied that the Ravenclaws were safely in their common room and confident that Luna would have an eye on her housemates in her own special way, Ginny strolled on, climbing a spiralling staircase to the second floor.
“Anyway, I couldn’t choose. It’d be too horrible.”
A shadow passed over his face. The hall was dim, but still she saw his little smirk fade and his brows knit together again in aggravation. “If it happens,” he said flatly, “family first. Sod your Gryffindor bravery.”
“If no one was willing to make a stand, Voldemort would’ve seized power a long time ago,” she countered hotly. “Don’t be so stupid and pretend like that’s too hard for you to understand.”
Somehow, that made him smirk again. “Weasley, was that some twisted way of calling me smart?”
“I never said you were dumb,” she shrugged. “You just don’t seem to ever use your brain, for some reason that I don’t get--”
“Because you are too dumb to understand how my brain works,” he shot back, but his lips were twitching. “It’s not my fault you can’t follow my chain of logic, or get my jokes--”
“I don’t get your jokes because they’re not funny,” Ginny retorted. “They’re just mean.”
“Weasley, you have four…five…brothers--”
“Six,” she corrected, rolling her eyes.
“Whatever. Have you never been mean and loved it?”
Ginny giggled. One couldn’t grow up with Fred and George without learning to appreciate a certain kind of wicked humour. “Yes,” she said. “But you take it too far, Malfoy. It’s not funny, it’s annoying.” Well, she might be willing to acknowledge that he could be funny - if his barbs weren’t always directed at her. But at least they were an excuse to bitch back at him. It was a relief not to be nice, sometimes, especially now that everyone relied on her.
He smirked. “I like the way you look when you’re really, really annoyed by me,” he said. “I think it’s funny.”
She raised an eyebrow coyly. “Did you just compliment me?”
“Your anger entertains me,” he told her, grinning evilly. “When you stomp your foot, like so,” he demonstrated, looking incredibly silly, “and you start holding your breath and puffing up your cheeks, like so--”
“I do not look like that!” Ginny protested, but Malfoy was obviously enjoying himself too much to care.
“And when you blush that horrid colour that clashes with your hair, and your eyes start bulging--”
“My eyes don’t bulge!” Before she knew what she was doing, she had stomped her foot, and when Malfoy laughed at her gleefully, she pouted. Well, maybe she’d asked for it. A little bit. Not that she’d ever admit it.
Ginny stabbed her finger into his shaking chest. “Shut up.”
He laughed derisively, and his amusement reverberated through her. “No.”
“Shut up, Malfoy!” she demanded, shaking her fist.
“No,” he snickered.
Now he was asking for it. Ginny punched his thin chest with her fist and relished his unmanly yelp. “Ow, stop it!”
It was her turn to laugh. “No,” she said sweetly, punctuated by several sharp raps with her knuckles, and suddenly, he grabbed her and pushed her against the wall, pinning her hands above her head.
“Ow,” he repeated, increasing the pressure on her wrists by leaning his full weight against her when she thrashed and struggled.
“Let go of me.” Ginny squirmed, trying to get away. She couldn’t believe that she wasn’t able to fight him off - he was so skinny, and he shouldn’t be able to grip her this tightly, but no matter how much she wiggled, he held her back.
His fingers were cold around her wrists, and the wall behind her was cold, too, with the wintery draught that permeated the castle. Shivering, she pushed off the wall, arching her back, and her belly brushed against his groin innocently.
What she felt wasn’t so innocent. Flinching, Malfoy dropped her arms, and when her eyes flew to his face, she saw, even in the dim light of the hall and though he was trying desperately to look indifferent, that he was blushing. He was aroused.
Shocked, Ginny sucked in a startled breath. The light touch had made her body tingle, and her skin felt hot and tight, as if she would burst with this strange mixture of excitement and embarrassment. Their gazes clashed, and if her accidental discovery hadn’t infused her body with lust, his eyes did.
The black of his pupils almost drowned out the pale grey, and Ginny thought faintly that this look fit him much better, dark and rough and needy as it was, than that icy colour he’d inherited from his father. He wasn’t cool, no matter what he’d like others to think. When he touched her, it felt like they’d burn up together.
“Draco,” she whispered, and then she was pressed against the wall and his lips were on hers, cutting off anything else she might’ve wanted to say.
Ginny didn’t know what was happening, but shamefully, her body did, and it reacted like any healthy teenage girl’s would’ve. A tingling sensation spread all over her skin, and even as her stomach plummeted and her heartbeat picked up with shock and excitement, she wrapped her arms around his neck and rose on tiptoes to kiss him back.
He kissed her the same way he fought with her - impatient and aggressive and passionate, like it was a challenge and he half-expected her to back down. But she wouldn’t. She found that she liked this and she wanted more of it. More of this pent-up emotion, this glimpse at him when he let his guards down and finally allowed her to get closer. Oddly enough, she wanted to show him that there were other ways of kissing, too - sweet and gentle and nice.
The thought startled her enough to break away and stare at him, her vision hazy with lust and emotion. The flickering light of the torches glowed in his fair hair, and his face seemed very white against the backdrop of the dark hall. He was still Malfoy, still smirking in a way that got under her skin and made her want to scream, but now, not entirely with rage. He had grown on her, Ginny realised with something like desperation. God, she actually liked having Malfoy around.
She shouldn’t do this. She knew it. But her body had been deprived of touches and kisses for so long, she didn’t want to stop. Moaning, she pressed herself closer against him and kissed him with renewed fervour.
But at her enthusiasm, something seemed to shift between them. When he released her abruptly, she stumbled forward a few steps, almost shocked at the loss of contact. “No,” he murmured, as if the word could undo what had just happened.
“Listen,” Ginny said, trying to focus in spite of the blood that pounded loudly in her ears. “I just…Malfoy…”
When she said his name, his expression tightened and closed. “I need to get to my dorm,” he announced curtly, and before she could move, say anything else, he was hurrying away as if someone were chasing after him.
Ginny stood in the hall, her cheeks burning, feeling both bereft and stupid for it. What had she been thinking? She’d kissed Malfoy, Malfoy of all people!
But no matter how much she berated herself, her body refused to quiet down, and when she finally lay in bed, exhausted and uneasy, her mind provided her with a replay of their encounter that made her blood sing.
It was a long time before Ginny slept.
Breakfast the next morning was awkward. Ginny had had to keep her snogs a secret before, not wanting to upset Ron, but this time, with Malfoy, she felt like everyone who looked at her would know right away what she’d been up to while she was supposed to be patrolling the corridors and call her on it.
She didn’t know when it had become normal for them to sit together at breakfast, but she wished that it hadn’t and she could get away from him for at least half an hour more. She was all too aware of his presence. He sat opposite her, dripping milk into his tea a little too carefully and stirring with excess force. When she moved to stretch her legs under the table, their knees rubbed against each other’s. The innocent touch sufficed. She blushed and quickly shook her hair over her face so no one would notice.
At least he didn’t seem to feel like talking, for once, and she was glad for that. She didn’t think she could muster enough composure to come up with anything light and unsuspicious to say. She’d lost her mind somewhere while they’d patrolled the night before, and so far she hadn’t been able to recover it.
Her head was swimming with images of the previous night, with the memory of his kisses, hard and demanding, and even though she didn’t want to let them affect her, they did. A shiver raced down her spine, and beneath her coarse woollen school jumper, her nipples hardened. She blushed even more deeply. Oh, this was terrible.
What they’d done had been entirely inappropriate, she told herself as she sipped at her tea hastily, burning her tongue. When she sat behind him in class later, staring at the back of his white-blond head, she replayed their encounter in her mind very deliberately and made herself think of every mean, nasty thing Malfoy had ever done. It worked until the end of the lesson, when he turned around and sneered at her, and all she could focus on were his lips, twisting viciously just as they had the second before he’d kissed her. She knew how they felt against hers - hard, but soft, cutting off her protests, her reason, depriving her of her defences till all she could feel was his skin sliding against hers, the heat of her cheeks amplified by his warmth and closeness. The taste of him--
“You look weird,” Luna told her bluntly, at lunch. “Are you feeling all right, Ginny?”
“Uh, yeah. Sure. Just tired,” she replied hastily, wanting to smash her face into the tabletop.
From across the table, Malfoy gave her a look.
She glared back at him, her jaw set firmly. This couldn’t go on! It was horrible, and it had to stop.
When everyone had retired to their common rooms, she dragged him off to the most secluded, darkest corridor she knew with every intention of yelling at him for kissing her then telling him never to do it again, but when she finally whirled around to face him, her stomach flip-flopped and she knew instantly that this wasn’t going to go well at all.
His expression was dark and stormy, enhanced by the dim, flickering lights that made shadows dance over his face and throw his features into sharp relief. He looked fierce and needy, needy for…what? She didn’t know, but she was drawn to him, drawn to that need in spite of herself.
Still, she fought to hold on to the last scrap of resolve she had and said, “I don’t want you to kiss me again.” Her voice sounded strange, weirdly high-pitched and defiant. “It wasn’t a good idea.”
He seemed to take offence to that. “You liked it.” Well, that was true.
Ginny flushed. “I was surprised,” she attempted to explain. “I didn’t really think--”
“Do you ever?” he interrupted, those damnable lips of his curling in a smirk, and with a wild moan, she flung herself against him, grabbed his shoulders and kissed him, just as harshly as he’d kissed her the night before. It felt good, just like she’d imagined all day, and realisation that the feelings of the previous night hadn’t just been a wild, half-crazed dream crashed down upon her.
He resisted only for a second. Then, his lips parted beneath her urgently probing tongue, and the world tilted on its axis. It was the beginning of the end of hating Malfoy, and as they stood in the hall, clinging to each other desperately, Ginny felt keenly that nothing would ever be the same.
One night of snogging turned into two, three, and finally so many that Ginny lost count. It was wrong - not mainly because it was Malfoy, of all people, she was fooling around with, but because she was supposed to be focussed and reliable. On those nights when she was with him, though, a battalion of Death Eaters might’ve walked past them and she wouldn’t have noticed.
He was making her reckless. He made her forget every last bit of caution. He made her feel alive and young and silly and randy and everything else that teenagers were supposed to be.
For the first time in months, Ginny didn’t want to be a warrior, she just wanted to be a girl. She wanted to believe in this, in him. Them. If he could change, if he could start to like her as she had begun to like him, there was hope for the world yet.
And really, someone who could make her feel so good couldn’t be entirely bad, she attempted to reason when she was pressed against the wall, trapped between cold stone and his lean body, and his hands glided along her curves, groping and teasing.
They were tearing down the walls each of them had built up more with each passing day, and since the wizarding world was crumbling and falling apart around them, that was strangely fitting.
She wanted him to rip away all the things that she didn’t like about this life, she thought as he tugged at her clothes, opening buttons and unfastening zips till his fingers reached bare skin. She wanted him to peel back the layers and layers of the good, proper Ginny that everyone wanted her to be and uncover the girl beneath them. She wanted to burn, like fire and ice, and as her skin started to tingle beneath his hands, every slow, lazy caress sending shivers through her, she laughed softly against his lips. This was too, too ironic.
“What?” he murmured, pulling back slightly. His face was only inches from hers and his breath warmed her skin in the wintery cold of the hall.
“Nothing,” Ginny gasped, out of breath from the sheer force of their kiss. “I was just thinking...” She trailed off, unsure what she was thinking. Nothing that she could possibly tell him.
He glanced back at her, his strangely pale eyes glittering. “…what the bloody fuck is going on?”
“Something like that.” She swallowed hard as she moved and her body brushed against his. He was standing very close. She could feel how much she was affecting him, just like she had that night he’d first kissed her. They were so far beyond that already, it felt like it had been ages ago, when it fact, it had only been a month or so. “I’m not sure if I care,” she whispered before she even knew what she was saying. “I like it.”
He smirked, his touch becoming even bolder after that, and though he never told her, Ginny realised that he liked this, too, these stolen moments that belonged to them alone, when the fixed roles they played every day were abandoned and they defined themselves anew.
His breath was cool against her moist lips, and her entire awareness centred on his mouth, those expressively curved lips that could sneer so coldly just before he kissed her with enough heat to melt any resistance that she put up. He was so many opposing things, it made her head spin - indifferent and passionate, glum and silly, scathingly sarcastic and wickedly funny, all in one blond, skinny, malicious package.
He pushed her against the wall and plunged his tongue deeply into her mouth, kissing her so thoroughly that she thought he would be permanently imprinted on her skin and everyone would be able to read ‘Draco, Draco’ written all over her face. His thin, cold hands warmed against her skin, and when he touched her, he was oddly careful, sometimes, completely unlike anything she’d have expected. She hadn’t though Malfoy could be tender, but sometimes, he was. She wondered if that meant anything.
Sometimes, he looked at her so intently that she felt like there wasn’t enough air to breathe, no room to move, and nothing at all in her world except those pale, glittering eyes, prickling on her skin. She came close to figuring him out then, but in the end he always eluded her and with him the reason why she was falling for him. She blushed when she thought about it, but it was true. She never lied to herself, not ever since first year when her lies and pretences had almost gotten her killed. She was falling for him, and even if it wasn’t right or proper or expected, it was good. So good.
“I haven’t kissed anyone like this in a very long time,” she told him quietly, feeling oddly vulnerable. Not ever, she thought, but she didn’t say that. Nothing she’d ever had with any of her boyfriends had been like this - so raw and instinctive.
The tightness of his face eased and, for a moment, she fancied that she saw him look pleased, before he shook his head and his customary smirk was back. “Me neither,” he shrugged. “That’s an explanation, then.”
Hormones. Yes, that was one possible explanation. Ginny had an inkling, though, that teenage lust couldn’t entirely account for this - kissing your nemesis in dark, secluded corners and liking it so goddamn much. But for now, it was good enough.
She squeaked quietly when he put his hands underneath her bum and lifted her up so they were face to face and he didn’t have to bend over to kiss her. It was nice, looking down at him like this for a change. She wrapped her legs around his hips, feeling the telltale bulge in his trousers, and with a wicked smile rubbed the rough crotch of her tights against him.
The expression on his face was priceless. His eyes rolled back into his head, he shuddered violently and, on a harsh, choked breath, he forced out, “Fuck.”
Giggling, Ginny ran her fingertips over his angular face, down his neck, along the sharp line of his throat, then trailed the same path with her lips. His hips ground into hers reflexively when she nibbled at his lower lip, and the friction sent a jolt through her. It was very nice when he hit the right spot. Very, very--
Suddenly, she felt his hand between her legs and froze. None of her boyfriends had ever touched her like this, and for a few seconds she hesitated, unsure what to do. In all her girlish fantasies, she had imagined saving this for Harry. If she didn’t now…did that mean she’d grown up at last? Grown out of her fantasies, till they were too small, too worn out to fit her any longer?
Ginny exhaled harshly. His touch was faint through the thick material of her hosiery and underwear, but she felt it all the same. This was different than the not-quite-accidental touches they’d shared before. This was slow and hot and deliberate, and it excited her so much that she could hardly stand it.
“Let me down,” she breathed, her voice high and needy. “Let me…ah!”
His hand shifted beneath her bum so he could hold her more steadily, but he made no move to comply. “No,” he whispered, close to her ear. “I like you like this.”
At his mercy. No wonder he did. If Ginny had had any breath left, she would’ve snorted. But she didn’t, and when his hand left her to pull out his wand, the rest of her blood rushed south, too. “W-what are you doing?” she stuttered.
“Vanishing those bloody tights,” he muttered. “Now let me--”
Panicking, she pushed away his wand hand. “No,” she pleaded, even as the thought of being bare beneath his hands made her heartbeat pound in a hundred different spots, each of them begging to be touched. “Not here.”
He looked at her from shuttered eyes. “Then come with me,” he murmured. “I’ve got a room of my own - the only other seventh years are girls.”
If she went with him, she didn’t think he’d want to stop before they had gone all the way. She didn’t think she’d want to make him. They both knew it, and the unspoken promise hung between them heavily.
Maybe it was time. Was it time? Was she ready? What if anyone saw them-- No. She didn’t care about that. It didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was this, them, and if it was right to do what her body had been screaming for her to do since the first time they’d kissed.
She wanted him badly, had even come to depend on him without ever meaning to. If he was gone tomorrow - if the final fight came to them and he died, as he predicted constantly, she would miss this, of that she was absolutely certain. If she lost him without ever having followed through on their heated, taunting caresses, she’d regret it for the rest of her life.
She didn’t want either of them to die. But she didn’t want to live on blind faith alone and risk missing this.
“All right,” she whispered, so quietly that he shouldn’t even have heard.
But he did, and the answering spark in his eyes made the last of her doubts go up in flames.
The Slytherin common room was mercifully empty and silent as they entered through a secret door that was concealed in a bare stretch of stone wall. It was more of a dungeon than a cosy den, long and narrow with a low ceiling. Just below it there was a row of tinted green windowpanes which let in hardly any light, just a strange, flickering glow. The air was filled with a distant, faint sound of gurgling water that seemed to seep in through the walls.
Ginny glanced around, feeling a bit stifled. “Are we…are we beneath the lake?”
“Yes,” he said, leading her deeper into the cavernous room, through a doorway, down a few stairs and to a door on the left. “Here.” He opened the door and stepped aside to usher her in.
The room was furnished with half a dozen beds and matching nightstands, but they were all bare and unused except for one, at the far wall. A few books, worn clothes, scraps of parchment littered the floor and furniture haphazardly.
“Sorry,” he said behind her, sounding sheepish. “I didn’t really think you’d…we’d…” He Banished his things to a trunk at the foot of his bed and shut it quickly. “No one ever comes in here.”
Must be lonely, Ginny thought, but didn’t say anything. Instead, she turned to him and put her hands on his chest. “I’m here now,” she said, rising on tiptoes to kiss the corner of his mouth.
He clutched her shoulders desperately, as if he feared that she would run away if he let go of her. Her feet left the floor when he pulled her to him to kiss her deeply and with a tiny, pleased moan, Ginny wrapped her arms around his neck and hung on to him tightly.
He staggered a bit, but somehow got them to his bed before she was even aware where this was going. When he dumped her on the mattress unceremoniously, she let out an indignant squeak. “You have such a romantic way about you, Malfoy.”
He had already dropped his robe on the floor and was now struggling to pull his jumper over his head. “I never promised you romance,” he gasped when he emerged from the woolly garment, flushed and dishevelled.
Ginny smiled at him. He was so boyishly cute sometimes. It would be so easy to like him with his dry, wicked humour and his childish eagerness and that stubborn mind of his, if he didn’t always feel the need to sneer and spit out insults. But she had known what she was getting into. She had and still she was here. “No, you didn’t,” she said softly. She held out her hands. “Come here.”
They fumbled with each other’s clothes, tearing at hooks and clasps and buttons impatiently. More than one ripped off and fell the floor, forgotten in their haste. Ginny reached her goal first: his shirt parted under her hands, and she ran her fingers over his chest, tracing his ribs with her fingertips. No chest hair, she thought with amusement, and pinched one of his nipples. Shivering, he ripped her blouse and swore.
She fidgeted when cool air brushed against bare skin, suddenly very aware that she was wearing her plainest white cotton underwear - a sensible pair of knickers and a camisole that was perfectly well suited to keep her warm while she patrolled the draughty corridors, but did nothing for her generous bust.
“Chic,” he said dryly and ripped the thin straps as he yanked it down to bunch around her waist, then urged her to lie back.
Ginny complied, feeling rather vulnerable. He was hovering above her, trapping her beneath him, and even though he was thin and gangly, she felt tiny and fragile like this, completely unlike herself, lying in his bed, staring up at him from his pillows. But then, she wasn’t quite the normal, sensible, reliable Ginny tonight that everyone knew her as. Tonight, she was someone else, someone daring and reckless.
The thought fuelled her excitement, and the look in his eyes, almost reverent, chased away the last of her apprehension. When he tugged at her skirt, she lifted her hips obligingly to let him strip off her last pieces of clothing.
He shook his head. “Freckles everywhere,” he muttered to himself, and before she could retort, his lips were on her breast and she forgot anything she might have wanted to tell him. It was nice, moist and hot and, oh God, why wasn’t she surprised that he was good with his mouth?
She squirmed when he strayed too close to her ribcage. It tickled and she fisted her hands in his hair and tugged him back to her breast, giggling. “There,” she commanded breathlessly and, for once, he didn’t whine and complain at an order she gave him.
He was very enthusiastic, in fact. He pressed a kiss to her breastbone, then one, very carefully, against the round underside of her breast, and when she hummed blissfully, he nudged the hard tip with his tongue, encouraged.
Ginny’s toes curled into the sheets as he caressed her with his lips, one hand coming up along the gentle slope of her waist to slide over the soft mounds of flesh, over and over, as if he couldn’t get enough of the feel of her. “Nice,” he murmured offhandedly, more to himself than to her, and when he pulled back, she had to stifle a grin. His face was flushed and eager and positively glowing with delight. It was endearing.
He fondled her for a few moments, squeezing here and there, exploring with light touches till her breath came in short, quick gasps. Then, his brow furrowed, as if he’d decided that having his hands on her didn’t suffice, and leaned down to nibble her neck. Ginny let out a long moan and he bit her harder, sucking her skin between his teeth in such a way that she knew he’d leave a mark.
He was panting when he stopped, his cheek hot against her shoulder. His hands were still doing wonderful things to her breasts, but all she could focus on when he moved again was his moist mouth, licking and sucking his way down her body. A kiss to her breastbone. A kiss to her stomach. When he dipped his tongue into her belly button, she shuddered, hearing him chuckle just before he moved even lower and scraped his teeth over the thin skin below her navel.
Ginny squirmed, suddenly not flustered at all, just excited and needy. Her body was humming under his hands and lips, quivering with desire, and pleasure was pulsating through her in hot rippling waves that seemed to build and build without ever reaching their breaking point. It was sweet, sweet torture, the best kind that Malfoy had ever inflicted on her, and if he didn’t follow through soon--
But then, he did, cutting her torment short in an uncharacteristic haste to please…or maybe he couldn’t wait anymore either, she thought faintly as his lips touched the inside of her thigh and her hips lifted off the bed. “Please,” she begged, uncaring now whether he recognised the full depth of her desire for him.
But for once, he didn’t mock or taunt. He shifted to kneel between her thighs, his breath cool on her slick flesh and touched her in a spot that made her body convulse and stars dance behind her closed eyelids. Her heart thudded so loudly in her ears that she could count the beats till he moved again. One, two, three, four and then he was flicking his tongue against that spot over and over and over, and it was bliss.
“Yes,” she moaned, clutching fistfuls of his hair. The rush of pleasure that spiked her blood made her lightheaded and she clung to him, her knees pressing into his sides. His fingers tightened on her hips, holding her down as she began to tremble and shake uncontrollably, never letting her get away far enough to draw this out, make it last longer. “Yes,” she sobbed out as the first wave of rapturous delight crashed and descended upon her. “Yes, oh, damn, oh--”
He was laughing darkly when she came back to her senses, looking smug and pleased with himself. He hovered above her, his hands braced on either side of her head, and his lips were still glistening wetly. He was also smirking.
At that moment, he was the sexiest thing she’d ever seen. “Kiss me,” she demanded roughly, pulling him forward so his body was covering hers. A shiver raced over her skin, half an aftershock of her orgasm, half maddening excitement about what was going to happen next. She felt him rub up against her slick folds and shifted against him restlessly to increase the friction.
Draco’s hips jerked. He groaned. “Yes or no?”
Her heart pounded in her throat. “Yes,” she breathed. “Yes.”
He pulled away to push his underwear down clumsily, and much as Ginny wanted to stay calm and on top of things, she felt herself blush.
He was watching her guardedly. “What?”
The defensive tone reassured her. Smiling lopsidedly, she rolled her eyes. “Can’t I look? You got to explore, after all.” Interestingly, his cock twitched when she reminded him of that. She reached out to touch him carefully, intrigued by his reaction. He’d liked doing that to her, earlier. And he was liking her soft, gentle touch, now. She moved her hand up and down, watching his face.
His pale eyes were glittering like ice. Pretty, Ginny thought, and there was a weird little twinge deep inside her belly. He smirked as if he knew. “You’ve never done this before, have you.”
It wasn’t a question. Huffing, she snatched her hand away and pouted up at him a bit. No, she’d never done anything like this with any of her boyfriends, and the thought that he might have an advantage over her in this unnerved her a bit. When he reached for her again, she stopped him with a hand on his chest. “Have you ever…?”
The tips of his ears flushed pink. “Yeah, sure.”
Suddenly, she felt very much like laughing. “You’re lying,” Ginny countered without the shadow of a doubt. “You’re a--”
“Does it matter?” he said irritably. “You’re ruining the mood, witch.”
“You started it,” she reminded him, giggling, and pulled him in for a kiss.
He responded eagerly and amidst wild, sloppy kisses and urgent touches, they clambered across the bed till she was on her back again and he lay between her thighs, hips grinding into hers. They broke apart just long enough for Ginny to perform the contraceptive charm that her mother had drilled into her from the day that her brothers had gone blabbing about her first boyfriend, and then, finally, he shifted against her and pushed inside.
It wasn’t blissful. It wasn’t even particularly pleasant. But as he entered her slowly, came closer to her than any person ever had before, she suddenly felt a warmth and contentment that transcended the physical. She had done it - she had trusted him with this, with her body and her heart, had committed herself to believing all the good things that were between them and forgiving all the rest, and after a long, long time of darkness and fear and hatred, the feeling was so beautiful that it brought tears to her eyes.
She looked up at him, his face blurry above her, saw his expression of shock and wonder, and knew that he felt it too. They could never go back now to what they’d been before. No matter what would become of them, they would always have this, together. And just then, Ginny believed with all the fervour of her seventeen years that everything would be all right. They would live to find out what the future held for them.
His arms were trembling with the strain of holding himself up, staying still inside her. “I want to move,” he gasped.
She giggled at that. “Who’s stopping you?”
His face was scrunched up and tight with need. “You’re crying,” he panted.
“No, I’m not,” she murmured, angling her shaky legs so she could wrap them around his hips, pushing him towards her. Her body felt sore when he slid deeper inside her, tingling with a slight burn, but it wasn’t entirely painful. Encouraged, she put her hands on his shoulders and pulled his body flush against hers.
He made a low, strangled sound, deep in his throat. “Ginny…”
She shivered violently. He had never called her that before, never. It got under her skin more than any caress could have. Everything else between them might be explained away with lust, need, loneliness…but that breathless gasp spoke of something more. Something new. “What are you waiting for?” she challenged hoarsely. “Get to it, you tease.”
Her fingers slid over his sweat-slicked back when he began to thrust frantically, digging deeply into his skin. The hard angles of his thin body bumped into hers uncomfortably, but after a few moments of wiggling and fumbling, she found that when she tilted her hips just so and arched her back, her softness cushioned his rough motions.
“Yes,” she whispered, matching his rhythm with her own. She liked this - moving together instead of taking turns touching each other. It was a myriad of sensations all at once, inside and out, body and soul…his breath on her neck, rapid and harsh, his heartbeat echoing through her, the moist slide of his skin against hers, his hard length inside her, and if she raised her hips just a bit more, maybe, maybe--
His spine rippled, his back arched, a second before his whole body went rigid above her, and then he was shaking and jerking convulsively, crying out with relief. On the last erratic thrust, he slipped out of her, and she felt hot, sticky liquid slide down the inside of her thigh.
After a moment, he lifted himself off her, and she saw his chin wobble with embarrassment. Then, his eyes hardened and his face twisted darkly, and she knew that he would try to hurt her now, just so she couldn’t hurt him first. “Ah well,” he said, sounding hoarse though she could tell that he wanted desperately to appear indifferent. “It’s not like it was more than a--”
“Stop,” she said sharply.
He actually broke off, looking stunned, and she wondered if anyone had ever really stood up to him in the eighteen years of his life. His friends had certainly never seemed to.
He needed a bit of that, she decided. She put her hands on his shoulders, forcing him to stay atop her, look into her eyes. “I was here with you all this time, you know,” she said, smiling slightly, “So I know exactly what it was, and what it wasn’t. Shut up, Malfoy.”
He scowled, but he looked more unhappy than vicious. “I just wanted--”
“I think I know that, too,” she told him, kissing the tip of his pointy chin.
Draco shook his head, a deep crease between his brows. “Don’t be like that.”
“Like what?” Ginny asked, rubbing his shoulders gently.
He seemed to struggle with the words, which was a rare occurrence for him. She watched him with satisfaction, thinking that she had done that to him.
“Nice,” he finally said. His lip curled with his customary sneer as a new thought struck him. “And if you tell me that it’s all right and it happens to everyone, I’ll curse you.”
She felt uncontrollable laughter bubble up inside her, and quickly, before it could burst out of her and damage his fragile male ego even more, she pulled him down to her to kiss him deeply. “I think,” she gasped, when they broke apart for air, “that we should stop talking now.”
“But--” he protested before she cut him off.
“Say, Malfoy,” she said, peering up at him impishly, “if I perform a quick Cleaning Charm, can you do again what you did to me earlier?”
She watched as his expression turned from irritated to confused to pleased in a matter of seconds. He had an incredibly expressive face, full of vivid emotion when he let his guard down. It was such a shame that he only ever looked mean and malicious in public.
“Yes, all right,” he drawled finally. “If you’d like.”
Inwardly rolling her eyes, Ginny fluttered her eyelashes and purred, “Please,” and he actually snorted out a laugh.
“I’ve got a better idea than Cleaning Charms,” he said, rolling off her and climbing out of the bed. He Accioed their clothes and handed her her blouse and skirt to put back on. No underwear, she noted with amusement. “The Prefects’ bathroom is just two doors down.”
“You’re not a Prefect, though,” she pointed out as she slid off the bed, crouching to search for her shoes. She felt sticky and sore when she moved. A hot bath would be wonderful.
“I got the password out of one of the fifth years, two days after I came back,” he shrugged.
She felt his eyes on her while she tied her shoelaces, and when she glanced up, he was looking at her quizzically. “What is it?” she asked softly.
He buried his hands in the pockets of his trousers, shifting from left foot to right. “Are you--”
“If you ask me if I’m all right or if it hurt, I’ll curse you,” she teased.
His serious expression lifted, his posture eased, and she knew that he had indeed wanted to ask her something along those lines. The thought pleased her, even though she didn’t care to have such a sappy, clichéd pillow talk.
“So where’s that bathroom?” she asked, instead.
He led her down the deserted corridor to show her, and it was a long time till they came back out.
Ginny woke up feeling suffocated and disoriented. When she opened her eyes, there was darkness all around her, and for a moment she panicked, until she realised that her face was covered with a dusty, velvety fabric that must belong to the bed curtains.
She struggled to get it off, and when she had finally untangled herself and was able to breathe once more, she saw in the light of the fire that came from the grate that the curtain she was clutching was deep green, not the familiar red.
Oh. Right.
She cautiously rolled over, and when she saw her bedpartner’s sleeping, peaceful face, her heart skipped a beat, the memories of what they’d done flooding her mind all at once. Chuckling quietly, she reached out to brush his longish hair off his forehead. She knew she should feel guilty because of Harry and her family, and because she’d hated Malfoy since she’d been a child and she had sworn to herself that she would hate him till the day she died. But now, she couldn’t. She couldn’t, not when she felt all warm and happy and content and Draco was smiling in his sleep. He actually looked cute.
But right then, he ruined the pretty image by pursing his lips. “Hmph,” he muttered sleepily. “Time to get up yet?” He didn’t seem at all surprised to find her in his bed.
“I don’t think so,” Ginny murmured, stroking his brow. “Hard to tell, without windows.”
He turned his face into the pillows, pouting sleepily. “Clock. Mantelpiece.”
“Lumos,” Ginny chuckled, and by the added light of her wandtip, she could see that the hands on the large, antique clock pointed at ‘five’ and ‘two’. “It’s ten past five.”
“Good,” he muttered, grabbing her around the waist to pull her back down. “Sleep some more.”
“I should get back to my dorm,” she said. “Before anyone else gets up.”
His brow furrowed beneath her gently stroking fingers. “So no one will know you were here?”
“So we won’t get in trouble,” she corrected. “You know this kind of thing would land us in detention, especially now.”
He cracked open an eye. “Totally worth it,” he smirked, and in spite of herself, Ginny felt stupidly flattered. “Besides, I would love to see McGonagall get all flustered - my father once told me how she caught him and mum sneaking around after hours--”
“Doing much more sinister things than we have, I’m sure,” she finished dryly.
“Nah,” he yawned. “I think they were snogging when she came upon them, but I don’t want to go into that.” He made a face as if she’d forced him to suck a lemon, and Ginny laughed.
“I can’t imagine your parents doing that,” she told him, snuggling into the soft sheets again. Five more minutes, then she’d dress and go back to Gryffindor.
“Good. Let’s not,” he muttered and, to distract them both, started to touch her under the blankets.
For a moment, Ginny basked in the pleasant feeling. They could try again…do something else this time, get in some more practice…but then, she moved her legs and felt how sore she still was. And she really needed to get back to her dorm, not find new creative ways to shag him!
“No,” she gasped, swatting away his hands. “Not now…stop, Draco, I mean it…no!”
When she realised that the only way to make him stop was to leave, she rolled out of bed regretfully and moved back, out of his reach. He made a whining noise. “Come here.”
She’d never thought he would ever beg her to come back to his bed. But then, she’d never fancied she’d ever stand in the Slytherin boys’ dorms, stark naked and freezing. Hastily, she Accioed her clothes.
He watched her as she put them on with a cross look on his face. “There’s still lots of time before the others get up.”
Her leg trembled as she raised one foot to pull on her tights. Her whole body felt pleasantly numb and heavy. It would’ve been so nice to go back to bed. “The girls in my dorm are terrible gossips. I don’t want them to find out I was gone all night,” she said.
“Tell them you were investigating…something. Suspicious activities.” He shrugged, smirking. “It’s true, in a way.”
Ginny rolled her eyes. “Not quite. I need to go…”
He sat up in bed. His eyes gleamed wickedly. “What, you’re leaving like this? No manners.”
She sighed softly, wondering how she’d ever found him unattractive. Granted, he wasn’t the most handsome of blokes, but something about him always caught her interest. Every time she looked at him, she discovered some new facet that she hadn’t expected. Perhaps it was because she’d only ever seen him as a nasty, evil git. Or perhaps it was because he looked at the world so very differently than she did.
The mattress dipped gently under her weight when she braced one knee on the bed. She intended to give him one kiss and then go, but one turned into two, two into three, and it was a long time till she actually managed to pull away and straighten her clothes again.
“Sleep some more, I’ll see you later,” she told him, retreating.
“No, no, I’m getting up too.” He grinned wolfishly. “I’m hungry.”
Ginny snorted. “Early breakfast sounds good, yes.”
He rubbed his rumbling stomach. “And regular breakfast, after that.” Catching himself, he grunted softly as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. “Damn, I’m turning into Crabbe and Goyle.”
“Hardly,” she laughed with a pointed look at his skinny body, and escaped before he could grab her again. She was still chuckling when she climbed the stairs to the entrance hall.
( Part 3 )
( Part 4 )
ORIGINAL REQUEST:
BRIEFLY describe what you’d like to recieve: A 7th-year fic (it can be either Draco's or Ginny's) that incorporates the events of HBP. I do not want to see Ginny tortured or hurt. I'd like them to be together (by choice) at the end without being pure fluff.
The tone/mood of the fic: Suspense, mystery, or drama (or some combination) along with a bit of humor, if you can manage it. A surprise ending would be great but not absolutely necessary.
A theme/element/line of dialogue/object you want in your fic: "I hated you then. But I started to think differently about you when" and then fill in the rest however you want. Either Draco or Ginny can say that, but one of them must say it and his/her reason. (Please try not to be predictable on this part - surprise me!)
Canon or AU? Canon preferred.
Rating of the fic you want: Any
Deal breakers (what don’t you want): Total smut, fluff, or depressing angst.