Ginny waited until the last Order member vacated the premises before she pried up the floor board by her dresser and pulled out the bottle of firewhiskey. She sat on her bed and stared at the half empty bottle. Would it be enough?

She opened the bottle and wrinkled her nose at the strong smell. Grimacing, she put the bottle to her lips and sipped. It tasted worse than she remembered. At twenty-two, she was well past the legal age to drink. She’d never cared for hard liquor.

Harry popped into her room and scared the daylights out of her. She almost dropped the bottle. “A fine mess that would have been, Harry.”

“Sorry. I wanted to speak to you one more time before...you don’t have to do this.”

Ginny smiled. “Harry, we discussed this. My mum has been going on about us getting married for years. We’ve told her how we feel. She doesn’t listen.”

“Your mum passed that trait along to Ron. He keeps talking about buying houses next door to each other after the war. He wants our children to grow up together.”

“Maybe after the war you can find a nice girl to settle down with. You can still live next door to Ron.”

“I’m not sure how your brother will feel about that.” He ran his hands back through his perpetually messy hair. “Are you sure you’re up to this?”

“I’ll keep my wand on me at all times. If things turn ugly, I’ll hex him and Obliviate him.”

“Right. Good luck.” He winked at her. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“Here goes nothing,” she muttered as she walked toward Malfoy’s room. She gave his door a slight tap and then opened it.

The blond looked up from his book. “You’re supposed to wait for an invitation after you knock.”

Ginny pulled the bottle of firewhiskey from behind her back. “Fine. I thought you might want to share. If you’re going to be a prat about it, I’ll leave.”

He was across the room in three strides, yanking the bottle from her hand. “It’s so nice to see you. Please do come in.”

She laughed and followed him to the ratty couch he used as a bed. He sat on the far end; she chose a spot in the middle.

“Did you drink all of this?” He eyed her with suspicion.

“No. I just had a sip.”

He leaned toward her and sniffed. “I can smell it on your breath.”

His face was inches from hers. She stared into his mercurial eyes. The desire to lean in and kiss him was strong. She had to let him think it was his idea.

“Of course you can smell it on my breath. I told you I had a sip.”

Draco examined the bottle with an expression of distaste. “Please tell me you didn’t drink from the bottle and contaminate it with Weasley germs.”

She reached for the bottle. “If you don’t want any-”

He pulled the bottle backwards. Since she already had a grip on it, she fell against him. He extended the bottle above his head in an attempt to pull it from her grasp. Not one to give up without a fight, she held on. Given his longer reach, she ended up in an unexpected position.

It would have been a toss up to say who was more surprised when Draco’s face pressed into her cleavage. She froze and looked down to see his reaction. He appeared confused. She slid down a few inches to keep from suffocating him.

‘Usually a bloke has to pay a woman to do something like that,” he commented.

She whacked him on the shoulder.

He laughed. When he smiled some of the worry lines fell away from his face. She released the bottle and slid back down to the couch. Her curves brushed enticingly against his chest on the way back down. She pretended not to notice the way his eyes drifted to her chest.

“Malfoy, are you planning on drinking, or did you just want to hold the bottle all night long?”

He blinked and shook his head like he was trying to push away an errant thought.

“If you’re too feminine to drink from a bottle, we could go downstairs for glasses,” she teased.

“The fact that I don’t have dirt permanently embedded under my fingernails does not make me feminine.”

“Someone’s touchy,” she remarked.

He kept his eyes on her while he sipped from the bottle. “When you’re tall, thin and neat, people tend to assume certain things. It’s annoying.”

She held her hand out. “We’re sharing. Remember?”

After another sip, he passed her the bottle. She made a show of wiping the top of the bottle off with her sleeve. “I don’t want any Malfoy germs.” Tipping the bottle to her lips, she took a tiny sip and grimaced. “Merlin, that’s awful.”

Draco took the bottle back. “If you don’t like it why drink it?”

She gestured around the room. “Hello? We’re in the middle of a war. We’re stuck in this ghastly house. My mum is delusional and thinks Harry and I are still together. Need I go on?”

He sipped and studied her. “You and the Boy Who Annoys the Hell Out of Me are no longer a couple?”

“No. We’ve been just friends for quite a while. My mum is determined to have a huge wedding once the war is over. I don’t know why she won’t just plan Ron and Hermione’s wedding.”

He chuckled. “Your mum doesn’t care for Hermione, does she?”

She glared at him. “Hermione is brilliant. A little bit of her goes a long way sometimes. I think my mum hit the breaking point when Ron said he liked Hermione’s pancakes better than hers.”

“Your mother’s pancakes could be used as bricks. I nearly broke a tooth the first time I tried them.”

Ginny grabbed the bottle and took a sip. “The trick is to let the syrup soak in so you can chew them. Why does alcohol make you feel warm?” She unbuttoned the top few buttons of her blouse and fanned herself.

When she checked, Draco’s eyes had drifted south again. She scooted closer to him as she handed the bottle back. Sloshing the contents under his nose, she said, “Hello, anyone home.”

“Merlin, you’re annoying.” He grabbed the bottle and took another drink.

She sent a rude hand gesture his direction while she scanned the room for something interesting. The shiny cover of a magazine peeked out from under the couch cushion. “What’ve you been reading?” she asked.

Draco choked on his drink as she pulled out a copy of Playwitch. Quickly, she flipped open the magazine and laughed. Turning the picture of the topless witch toward Draco, she said, “You know those aren’t real.”

He gaped at her. “How do you know?”

“Watch when she walks. They don’t move. If she moves and they don’t, then they’re from an enhancement spell.”

He snatched the magazine from her hands. “Do not disrespect the future Mrs. Malfoy that way.” He shoved the magazine behind him.

Ginny stood. “I’ll prove it to you.” She turned her back to him. “Give me a minute.” Unfastening her bra, she pulled it out her sleeve and tossed it on the couch. Draco’s eyes were locked on the white lace garment until she cleared her throat. “Hello. I’m trying to teach you a valuable lesson. Whoever Mrs. Malfoy might be, when she moves this should happen.

Draco stared as she walked toward him. Her god-given assets swayed underneath the light blue blouse. She sat next to him on the couch and took the bottle of firewhisky. “See the difference?”

He stared blankly at her. Worried he may have gone round the bend, she set the bottle on the floor and scooted closer to him. “Draco? Are you all right?”

Through gritted teeth, he said. “With any luck we’ll all be killed soon, and I won’t have to deal with your brothers' wrath.”

“What-”

She never had a chance to finish her thought. He crushed his lips against hers. Victory surged through her veins as his hands tangled in her hair, pulling her closer. When his teeth scraped against her neck, she forgot about her agenda and moaned his name.

He made short work of their clothing. She clung to him and bit his shoulder to keep from moaning as he began moving inside of her. She dug her nails into his back as the muscles in her body wound tighter and tighter. She teetered on the edge for just a moment and then waves of pleasure rolled through her body. Draco roared his release and then collapsed on top of her with his head pillowed on her breasts.

She ran her fingers through his hair, marveling at what she’d accomplished. When his head lifted, there was anxiety in his eyes.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

He opened his mouth to speak, but seemed unable to find any words to express himself. Unable to resist tormenting him, she said. “Don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll last longer next time.”

Shock registered on his face.

Unable to stop herself, she laughed. “I was just teasing,” she assured him.

“I feel I must defend my honor.”

“If you must.” She casually lifted one leg and draped it over his shoulder.

To say Ronald Weasley was unhappy to find his sister in such a position was an understatement. Ginny used a shielding spell to give her and Draco time to dress.

“Whatever you do, don’t let him know this was the first time,” Ginny warned as she buttoned her blouse.

“What do you mean?” Draco bit out as he struggled into his trousers.

Blasts rained down on Ginny’s shield. “If he thinks we’re in a relationship, he won’t be so angry. Just go along with what I say.”

Ginny partially lowered her shield. “Ron, stop it. I’m sorry you had to find out this way, but Draco and I are involved.”

The blasting stopped. “No you’re not. You love Harry.”

“I don’t love Harry. Harry doesn’t love me. We haven’t been together in years. You and mum didn’t want to see it.”

Ron eyed Draco. “Do you love him?”

Ginny’s eyes flitted to Draco. “We haven’t said the words yet. He’s not the type who spouts poetry at a girl. But I know how he feels.”

“Drop your shield,” Ron demanded. He stomped over to Draco and placed his wand against the blond’s throat. “How do you feel about my sister?”

Draco’s complexion became a little paler. He swallowed hard. “I love her?”

Ron dropped his wand and clapped Draco on the back. “You’ll have a spring wedding. That’s what Mum had planned for Gin and Harry. I guess you’ll have to do.”

Draco blanched. “You know, I’d like to be able to propose properly before someone plan’s my wedding.”

Ron brought his wand up and tapped Draco on the nose. “If you don’t want the rest of Ginny’s brothers to know how I found you tonight, you’ll go along with whatever my mum wants.”

Draco backed up a step. “I’ve always thought your mother had lovely taste. We’ll leave all the planning up to her.”