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They'd never had an agreement of any sort.
That, perhaps, was what galled him, all this time later; that he'd never told her he'd wanted to continue seeing her, that perhaps what they'd had was worth fighting for.
Their relationship had begun at the start of his Seventh Year, and her Sixth, a year after Voldemort had been defeated. He'd come across her and Blaise Zabini. Blaise, being Blaise, invited Draco to join them, and Draco had agreed (which normal seventeen-year old wouldn't have?).
After that, the both of them had met regularly, all over Hogwarts. They had even survived the mid-year holidays - they'd shagged the very night they got back, in a broom closet near the Great Hall. The few times she didn't meet him, over the year, he'd wanted to shag other people, but somehow an odd feeling of solidarity refused to let him do so. It sounded so ridiculous, even to him, that he never told her.
The rules were simple; if they met each other along the corridors at night, they'd shag. Sometimes, if they met each other along the corridors in the day, they'd shag. If they didn't come upon one another, well, they'd shag other people. No appointment-making was allowed, no contact outside of their shags (which, in case you hadn't noticed, was what their relationship was based upon).
And he'd enjoyed it immensely, to the point that he often went out on purpose to look for her.
But then he'd graduated, and they'd ended, just like that. She'd never contacted him, even though he'd been waiting, hoping even, to receive an owl from her. So he didn't bother to contact her himself, just tried to forget her. Perhaps it was only him who had enjoyed their relationship.
He didn't seem to be able to get to sleep properly, anymore. When he did manage to drop off, he often found himself sleep-walking around the Mansion, almost as if he were looking for something.
What she most regretted, now, was that she had never tried to find out where they stood. She had enjoyed being with him, to the point that she only let herself be with him (though of course she had never told him that), but perhaps he hadn't. He probably didn't, judging by the distinct lack of any owls she'd received from him.
So she'd picked herself up and tried to move on. The last thing she wanted to do was to cling on to the idea of them when he didn't think there was a them.
She'd become a mediwizard, determined to save all those who needed help - sometimes she thought that this was because when she had needed it most, no-one had offered it. She'd worked her way up, by dint of sheer blood and toil, until she was director of the Research Faculty.
The day she'd been appointed into office, the leaving director had passed over all the files, as well as a warning, that the Malfoy Industries was starting up a Medical Research Institute, that that they would face serious competition from that quarter. Ginny took that to heart, and set about organising and directing her Faculty with an energy that had surprised all her colleagues.
And then one day she found out that Malfoy had broken the patent laws by producing a potion that they had patented, under a different name. Needless to say, she didn't hesitate to bring a lawsuit against them immediately.
And that was the next time they met; in a conference room at Malfoy Industries, flanked by lawyers and secretaries on both sides. It was a remarkable change, really, from their last encounter on Snape's table in the Potions classroom.
They were very business-like that day, all cold politeness and indifferent smiles. She had quickly hidden her fluttering heart when she first saw him, changed the foolish smile that appeared on her face to a polite look of barely-recognition.
They had sat back, let their lawyers do the negotiating, while they eyed one another.
She chided herself when she felt concern over how thin he looked, and he had felt an almost irrepressible twinge of anger when her second-in-command (some toy-boy, he thought) had patted her on the arm and leaned over to whisper something in her ear.
Nothing had been settled that meeting; he'd refused to give, she had refused to compromise.
When they were leaving, he reached out to grasp her elbow, smiled the smile that usually had women weak at the knees.
"I think, Miss Weasley, that we had better discuss this properly. Perhaps over dinner?"
He'd forced himself to take this gamble; now that he'd seen her again, and known that the old attraction was still there, that he actually felt possessive toward her, he wanted to see if she really hadn't enjoyed them, to see if perhaps she'd like to try.
He'd been duly rewarded when he saw her flush, slightly.
"Not tonight, Mr Malfoy. I have something on. Call my secretary to reschedule."
And then, after she'd dashed his hopes, she'd turned and walked from the room.
But he'd had talked to the secretary, though, made an appointment for dinner two days later. When he quizzed her about what Weasley had on tonight, adding plenty of the dazzling Malfoy Charm, the secretary had smiled and blushed and told him that it was 'private time, though not alone, if he knew what she meant'. She'd been surprised when he'd suddenly scowled and walked away.
Ginny was fuming as she Apparated from the building. How dare he try to work his charm on her? She had recognised that smile in an instant; he'd told her that he'd privately termed it his 'get-laid smile', and that it always worked. Surely he realised that she knew him reasonably well-enough by now to be able to discern when he was putting it on?
And she wasn't about to let him use her again. At this juncture, she simply couldn't afford another fiasco like the last time she thought they could be together. Well, referring him to her secretary was a nice touch, she thought. He certainly wouldn't want to make an appointment for sex, especially not with her. After all, not making appointments was in the code.
So she'd been surprised when she returned to the office the next day, after a lovely evening accompanying Harry to a Ministry party. Neither of them could be bothered with having a real relationship, so they always accompanied one another to such events.
Her secretary told her that Mr Malfoy had scheduled an appointment to talk about the case the next night.
'Maybe,' she thought, 'Maybe he really does want to talk about this case. It definitely can't be for sex, then.'
So she had dressed accordingly. Nice, formal evening robes, slightly on the dressy side, but still appropriate for a business dinner. She couldn't help but think back to the last time she had dressed to meet Draco; she hadn't worn anything under her robes. She had been slightly surprised when he had brought her to a lovely Italian restaurant, but had hid it well underneath her mask of politeness.
Halfway through their discussion about how much Malfoy Industries would reimburse the hospital, she decided to test the waters, to check whether he was thinking of using her again.
He was just saying that $100,000 was more than enough, when he choked on his sautéed prawn. Her foot was running gently up and down his shin. Glancing up at her, he had seen that her face was schooled into polite interest, so he decided to follow her lead. When her foot slipped into the crotch of his pants, however, and met with a distinct hardness, he smirked at her look of surprise.
He ended up bringing her back to the Malfoy Mansion and shagging her. He hadn't meant to, really. He'd intended for them to discuss the deal, for her to see that he wasn't focused on sex, that he was interested in something more. But she had seemed so willing that he felt that she wouldn't mind, and as such made ample use of the opportunity.
When he woke up she was gone. She didn't attend any of the lawyer's meetings after that, sending her second-in-command instead. Even after the case had been concluded, to everyone's dissatisfaction (except the lawyers; this is the way lawsuits always end), she had her secretary tell him that she was out, or in a meeting, or just busy, whenever he tried to see her. So he took the hint, and left her alone, though still not quite understanding why she had seen fit to reject him. He'd reached out, and she'd said no, so he left it as that.
Then he'd met her at the Ministry Ball. She was on Potter's arm and seemed perfectly pleased about it.
She had grown pale when she spotted him, and had whispered something into Potter's ear before hurrying off, obviously eager to avoid him.
He'd followed her, of course. She'd gone into the garden of the huge house the Ball was being held at, and something inside of him twisted when he saw the moonlight reflected in the unshed tears in her eyes.
When she turned around and saw him, she sighed and reconciled herself to the inevitable, allowed him to approach her.
"You didn't return my owls."
"I didn't see a need to. The case was concluded."
"Ginny..."
"Don't call me that! You have no right to, after how you've treated me! You used me, Draco. In Hogwarts it was okay, because I was using you too, but I cannot allow you to do so now! I'm not in need of a shag-buddy at the moment."
"Then what about a relationship? A real one?"
When she turned to look at him, startled, he had gone on hurriedly, postponing the moment she would turn him down.
"I waited for ages for you to contact me after I left Hogwarts, do you know that? And you didn't, so I assumed you didn't want me. I wouldn't, after all. And then that night you seemed so willing, so I thought that maybe you knew that by now it wasn't about the sex, it was about you and me. But maybe to you it isn't. If you don't understand how and why I acted that way, perhaps we aren't as suited to each other as I'd thought. Goodbye, Ginny."
He turned to leave, bitterness forming a lump in his throat.
"Wait, Draco." This time she was crying for real.
"Draco, I'm so sorry. I thought... It doesn't matter what I thought."
This time, they both reach out for one another.
That, perhaps, was what galled him, all this time later; that he'd never told her he'd wanted to continue seeing her, that perhaps what they'd had was worth fighting for.
Their relationship had begun at the start of his Seventh Year, and her Sixth, a year after Voldemort had been defeated. He'd come across her and Blaise Zabini. Blaise, being Blaise, invited Draco to join them, and Draco had agreed (which normal seventeen-year old wouldn't have?).
After that, the both of them had met regularly, all over Hogwarts. They had even survived the mid-year holidays - they'd shagged the very night they got back, in a broom closet near the Great Hall. The few times she didn't meet him, over the year, he'd wanted to shag other people, but somehow an odd feeling of solidarity refused to let him do so. It sounded so ridiculous, even to him, that he never told her.
The rules were simple; if they met each other along the corridors at night, they'd shag. Sometimes, if they met each other along the corridors in the day, they'd shag. If they didn't come upon one another, well, they'd shag other people. No appointment-making was allowed, no contact outside of their shags (which, in case you hadn't noticed, was what their relationship was based upon).
And he'd enjoyed it immensely, to the point that he often went out on purpose to look for her.
But then he'd graduated, and they'd ended, just like that. She'd never contacted him, even though he'd been waiting, hoping even, to receive an owl from her. So he didn't bother to contact her himself, just tried to forget her. Perhaps it was only him who had enjoyed their relationship.
He didn't seem to be able to get to sleep properly, anymore. When he did manage to drop off, he often found himself sleep-walking around the Mansion, almost as if he were looking for something.
What she most regretted, now, was that she had never tried to find out where they stood. She had enjoyed being with him, to the point that she only let herself be with him (though of course she had never told him that), but perhaps he hadn't. He probably didn't, judging by the distinct lack of any owls she'd received from him.
So she'd picked herself up and tried to move on. The last thing she wanted to do was to cling on to the idea of them when he didn't think there was a them.
She'd become a mediwizard, determined to save all those who needed help - sometimes she thought that this was because when she had needed it most, no-one had offered it. She'd worked her way up, by dint of sheer blood and toil, until she was director of the Research Faculty.
The day she'd been appointed into office, the leaving director had passed over all the files, as well as a warning, that the Malfoy Industries was starting up a Medical Research Institute, that that they would face serious competition from that quarter. Ginny took that to heart, and set about organising and directing her Faculty with an energy that had surprised all her colleagues.
And then one day she found out that Malfoy had broken the patent laws by producing a potion that they had patented, under a different name. Needless to say, she didn't hesitate to bring a lawsuit against them immediately.
And that was the next time they met; in a conference room at Malfoy Industries, flanked by lawyers and secretaries on both sides. It was a remarkable change, really, from their last encounter on Snape's table in the Potions classroom.
They were very business-like that day, all cold politeness and indifferent smiles. She had quickly hidden her fluttering heart when she first saw him, changed the foolish smile that appeared on her face to a polite look of barely-recognition.
They had sat back, let their lawyers do the negotiating, while they eyed one another.
She chided herself when she felt concern over how thin he looked, and he had felt an almost irrepressible twinge of anger when her second-in-command (some toy-boy, he thought) had patted her on the arm and leaned over to whisper something in her ear.
Nothing had been settled that meeting; he'd refused to give, she had refused to compromise.
When they were leaving, he reached out to grasp her elbow, smiled the smile that usually had women weak at the knees.
"I think, Miss Weasley, that we had better discuss this properly. Perhaps over dinner?"
He'd forced himself to take this gamble; now that he'd seen her again, and known that the old attraction was still there, that he actually felt possessive toward her, he wanted to see if she really hadn't enjoyed them, to see if perhaps she'd like to try.
He'd been duly rewarded when he saw her flush, slightly.
"Not tonight, Mr Malfoy. I have something on. Call my secretary to reschedule."
And then, after she'd dashed his hopes, she'd turned and walked from the room.
But he'd had talked to the secretary, though, made an appointment for dinner two days later. When he quizzed her about what Weasley had on tonight, adding plenty of the dazzling Malfoy Charm, the secretary had smiled and blushed and told him that it was 'private time, though not alone, if he knew what she meant'. She'd been surprised when he'd suddenly scowled and walked away.
Ginny was fuming as she Apparated from the building. How dare he try to work his charm on her? She had recognised that smile in an instant; he'd told her that he'd privately termed it his 'get-laid smile', and that it always worked. Surely he realised that she knew him reasonably well-enough by now to be able to discern when he was putting it on?
And she wasn't about to let him use her again. At this juncture, she simply couldn't afford another fiasco like the last time she thought they could be together. Well, referring him to her secretary was a nice touch, she thought. He certainly wouldn't want to make an appointment for sex, especially not with her. After all, not making appointments was in the code.
So she'd been surprised when she returned to the office the next day, after a lovely evening accompanying Harry to a Ministry party. Neither of them could be bothered with having a real relationship, so they always accompanied one another to such events.
Her secretary told her that Mr Malfoy had scheduled an appointment to talk about the case the next night.
'Maybe,' she thought, 'Maybe he really does want to talk about this case. It definitely can't be for sex, then.'
So she had dressed accordingly. Nice, formal evening robes, slightly on the dressy side, but still appropriate for a business dinner. She couldn't help but think back to the last time she had dressed to meet Draco; she hadn't worn anything under her robes. She had been slightly surprised when he had brought her to a lovely Italian restaurant, but had hid it well underneath her mask of politeness.
Halfway through their discussion about how much Malfoy Industries would reimburse the hospital, she decided to test the waters, to check whether he was thinking of using her again.
He was just saying that $100,000 was more than enough, when he choked on his sautéed prawn. Her foot was running gently up and down his shin. Glancing up at her, he had seen that her face was schooled into polite interest, so he decided to follow her lead. When her foot slipped into the crotch of his pants, however, and met with a distinct hardness, he smirked at her look of surprise.
He ended up bringing her back to the Malfoy Mansion and shagging her. He hadn't meant to, really. He'd intended for them to discuss the deal, for her to see that he wasn't focused on sex, that he was interested in something more. But she had seemed so willing that he felt that she wouldn't mind, and as such made ample use of the opportunity.
When he woke up she was gone. She didn't attend any of the lawyer's meetings after that, sending her second-in-command instead. Even after the case had been concluded, to everyone's dissatisfaction (except the lawyers; this is the way lawsuits always end), she had her secretary tell him that she was out, or in a meeting, or just busy, whenever he tried to see her. So he took the hint, and left her alone, though still not quite understanding why she had seen fit to reject him. He'd reached out, and she'd said no, so he left it as that.
Then he'd met her at the Ministry Ball. She was on Potter's arm and seemed perfectly pleased about it.
She had grown pale when she spotted him, and had whispered something into Potter's ear before hurrying off, obviously eager to avoid him.
He'd followed her, of course. She'd gone into the garden of the huge house the Ball was being held at, and something inside of him twisted when he saw the moonlight reflected in the unshed tears in her eyes.
When she turned around and saw him, she sighed and reconciled herself to the inevitable, allowed him to approach her.
"You didn't return my owls."
"I didn't see a need to. The case was concluded."
"Ginny..."
"Don't call me that! You have no right to, after how you've treated me! You used me, Draco. In Hogwarts it was okay, because I was using you too, but I cannot allow you to do so now! I'm not in need of a shag-buddy at the moment."
"Then what about a relationship? A real one?"
When she turned to look at him, startled, he had gone on hurriedly, postponing the moment she would turn him down.
"I waited for ages for you to contact me after I left Hogwarts, do you know that? And you didn't, so I assumed you didn't want me. I wouldn't, after all. And then that night you seemed so willing, so I thought that maybe you knew that by now it wasn't about the sex, it was about you and me. But maybe to you it isn't. If you don't understand how and why I acted that way, perhaps we aren't as suited to each other as I'd thought. Goodbye, Ginny."
He turned to leave, bitterness forming a lump in his throat.
"Wait, Draco." This time she was crying for real.
"Draco, I'm so sorry. I thought... It doesn't matter what I thought."
This time, they both reach out for one another.
The End.
obssessedmadwoman is the author of 9 other stories.
This story is a favorite of 4 members. Members who liked Reaching Out also liked 1137 other stories.
This story is a favorite of 4 members. Members who liked Reaching Out also liked 1137 other stories.
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