I

He shouldn’t be at all surprised when she walks into his office behind the man who now plays the role of team leader to both, but he is. He hasn’t seen her since his sixth year, almost ten years ago now, and despite the fact she’s taller than he remembers and curvier than he remembers and prettier than he remembers, there’s one thing he cannot forget.

She’s still a Weasley.

The red hair is neatly pinned up into a tidy bun at the back of her head, and the freckles still paint her face like tiny stars in the night sky. He sweeps his eyes up and down her body, slowly, deliberately, watching with hidden delight as she tries not to squirm under his gaze. Not a bad package, all up. The forest green robes she’s clad in are clearly new, indicating she’s either more clever with a wand than he’d ever give her credit for or hell has frozen over and the Weasleys actually have some money. Still, he’s read her file and he knows she’s been an Auror – a damn good one, although he’d rather kiss a Gryffindor than admit it – for long enough to have earned some good money. Nice to see at least one Weasley has enough sense and taste to use it wisely.

He pushes back his black leather chair and rises almost lazily, and he can see a flicker of something – is it awe? – in her eyes, which are a startling brown colour. Startling, because he actually notices them. She shakes his hand firmly, quickly, and drops it as fast as politely possible. So, she’s as pleased about their being partnered up as he is. Interesting.

They are soon left alone and she wanders over to the spare desk in the room. Placing her satchel carefully in the middle, she inspects her new workspace for so long that Draco wants to ask her what she expects to find, but then realises that would be initiating conversation and he doesn’t want to do that. So instead he watches, observes her through trained eyes. She really is beautiful, and he’s dismayed that he’s noticed.

“Problem, Malfoy?” she asks, and he realises he’s frowning.

“Not at all, Weasley,” he responds smoothly. Time to see if he can throw her. “It’s good to have you on board.”

She says nothing, her mouth open slightly as her eyes narrow suspiciously. “It’s a little early to be starting on the firewhisky, isn’t it?”

He laughs, unable to contain his instinctive response. “People change, you know.” The words come out of his mouth before he can stop them and he stifles the small wave of horror at being so frank.

“I know.” Her voice is gentle, and her mouth curves into the beginning of a smile. “What’s in the past is in the past, Draco. There’s no reason we can’t work well together. I’m told you’re one of the best Aurors the Ministry has.”

“I am.” No point in being falsely modest. Draco has worked hard to get where he is, has had to prove himself time and again.

There is a silence between them, but it is not uncomfortable. This day is turning out to be full of surprises, and Draco doesn’t like the way Ginny Weasley is making him feel. Perhaps he should keep his distance.


II

Keeping his distance from his new partner is almost impossible, as Draco finds out late the next afternoon. Their first assignment has them posing as a married couple in order to try and trap a husband-and-wife team of thieves who are aiding known Dark Wizards. Small fry that may lead to the big fish. They move into the apartment next door to the suspects and the cover story given to them by the Ministry is that they are newlyweds who are settling into their first place together. Draco wonders if this is some sort of punishment for an imaginary slight, or whether their team leader simply has sadistic tendencies Draco was previously unaware of.

They won’t be here longer than a week, they’ve been assured; they’re only required to gather as much information as possible at this stage. Weasley doesn’t seem to be the least bit bothered by this turn of events, as though posing as Draco Malfoy’s wife was something she believed might happen one day.

They sort out the issue of who gets what room with a minimum of fuss, and Draco takes the time to unpack his things. The room is nothing special; the walls are cream and the bed is a double. Certainly not as big as the one in his penthouse. All the furniture is brown, a colour that has until recently always struck Draco as being a very boring colour.

It doesn’t take long for him to finish unpacking, and he wanders into the kitchen to find Ginny bustling about the room, throwing pans here and food there. She’s clad in Muggle clothes, jeans and a t-shirt that accentuate her admittedly lovely figure.

“What the hell are you doing, Weasley?”

She looks up and freezes, and he wonders for a brief moment if something is terribly wrong because the colour seems to rush from her face. He repeats her name and watches as she shakes her head slightly.

“I thought I’d start dinner. I hope you like stir fry.”

“You’re cooking?”

“Yes, you know what that is, don’t you, Malfoy? You usually do it to food before you eat it.”

“Of course I know what cooking is, Weasley. But why the hell are you doing it? We can owl out and stick the tab with the Ministry.”

She wrinkles her nose and Draco is almost overwhelmed with the urge to kiss it. “I prefer to cook myself, it’s healthier. It helps me relax.”

She seems very forthright about everything, as though they have been friends for years, and he finds her openness unnerving. “You’re tense about something?”

Ginny stops stirring and looks over at him. “I’m always a little nervous before a new assignment.” There’s something about her body language that tells him she’s nervous about a whole lot more than that, and it makes him want to put her at ease.

“You don’t need to be nervous, Ginny.” He says he first name slowly, savouring it, testing out how it sounds coming from his mouth. “You’re extremely good at your job. There’s no reason to believe we can’t wrap this one up without any problems.”

“You’ve read my file.” She is not making an accusation, merely stating a fact.

“And you’ve read mine, I’m sure.” He leans against the kitchen table and folds his arms over his chest.

“Yes, I have.” She turns back to the stove. “Does it bother you?”

“Should it?”

She shrugs, as though unsure as to what the answer should be. They say nothing more. Ginny serves their dinner, Draco thanks her for what is a surprisingly delicious meal, and once Ginny has waved her wand over the sink to do the dishes, she bids him good night, stating she wishes to go over the case file one last time.

He lets her go, wondering as he lays in bed much later that night if she’s having just as much trouble sleeping as he is.


III

Four days later, he’s got her pressed up against the door to their apartment, kissing her as though his life depends on it and wondering how the hell he lasted four entire days without doing it. She’s been driving him absolutely crazy, with the way that she sways her hips as she walks and the way she goes from the bathroom to her room in naught but a towel and the way she bites her lips when she’s trying to concentrate on something. He doesn’t mean to kiss her, he doesn’t, but when she turns to him as they arrive back at the apartment and asks him for the keys, she bites her lip and it’s all over. He simply turns her and shoves her up against the door she’s attempting to open and lowers his mouth to hers.

He can tell she is momentarily surprised, but it doesn’t take long for her arms to come around his waist, her hands splaying on his back. She slides her tongue into his mouth and moans, and the noise that comes from the back of her throat almost brings him to his knees, although he’s too busy frantically kissing her to be disturbed by this.

She presses up against him, her nipples hard. Draco knows she must be able to feel his erection and he tells himself he must slow down. He barely knows this woman and she is his partner. It’s completely inappropriate behaviour on both their parts, and common sense prevails long enough for him to release her lips and pull back far enough to look at her.

“We can’t do this.”

She stares at him, her brown eyes wide, and gives him the smile that makes his stomach hurt. “Haven’t you ever wanted to stop thinking and just feel, Draco?” she whispers, leaning close enough for their lips to touch again. His resolve is wavering and like all damn females, she must sense it, because she runs her fingertips up and down his arm. “Just feel,” she whispers again, and he realises even before his lips meet hers again that he has lost this particular battle.


IV

Her hair is long, longer than he’s realised. It trails down her back like a river of fire. She’s lying on her stomach, her face turned towards him. The sheet only covers them from the waist down, and Draco strokes her back slowly with his right hand while propped up on his left. They don’t speak, words unnecessary. He leans down every so often to kiss her, and she responds enthusiastically, drawing out each kiss for as long as possible. Her skin is so impossibly soft, and Draco is content enough to lay on her bed forever and do this, run his fingers over her bare skin and watch her shiver as he does it.

“You may be a lot of things, Draco Malfoy, but bad in bed is not one of them.”

Draco is unable to contain his grin. “Satisfied?”

Ginny sits up to face him, unabashedly letting the sheet fall and baring herself to him. “Are you kidding? That was incredible.”

“I aim to please.”

Ginny laughs and kisses him, then straddles his lap as though they have been lovers for years. “I feel fantastic.” She peppers his face with kisses, and there is an underlying tenderness in her touch that makes Draco feel something he has not felt in a very long time. “We could get into a lot of trouble for this, you know.”

“I know,” he says as she kisses his ear.

“We’ll just have to make sure they don’t find out, then. Because I don’t want to give this up, not yet.”

Not ever. The two words form unbidden in his mind and Draco knows he should be backing the hell away from this woman because she scares him, but all thoughts fly out of his head as she slithers down his body.


V

They agree they must make a choice between being partners and being lovers, so after they complete their assignment, Ginny Weasley is reassigned to another partner. Questions are asked and they both have the same answer: they are simply not suited to work together. Although the Ministry is pleased with their outcome and disappointed with the request, they do not wish to lose two of their best Aurors by having them team up with someone who makes them uncomfortable, so Ginny’s request is filled.

Draco finds that he misses her enormously as the months slide from one to the next. They don’t risk eating lunch together for fear of being seen, so it is only at night when they are both in London that they can be together. They maintain their own apartments, although Ginny often spends the night at his penthouse because she loves the view of the city from his balcony.

One warm summer night they are sitting outside, observing the inky black sky dotted with silver stars and the lights of London below them, and he looks over at her as she sips at her wine and wonders how it can be that he has fallen so desperately in love with Ginny Weasley. But he knows the answer. She cooks for him and nags him to pick up after himself and washes his back in the shower. She confronts him when she thinks he’s being evasive and she yells at him when he pisses her off. She comforts him when he’s feeling lost and when he’s been hurt, and worries when they are separated by work. She’s always waiting for him at home when he’s been away on assignment and sometimes doesn’t even let him drop his bag before she jumps on him and kisses him until he can’t breathe. She doesn’t make a fuss of his birthday because she knows he hates it, but always manages to find the perfect gift for him.

Draco reaches over and takes her hand in his, and as he breathes in the night air, he knows he’s already been given the most perfect gift Ginny could ever give him – herself.