Chapter Six :: Paroxysm
Ginny’s lips remained pressed against Draco’s for roughly five seconds when she came to her senses and pushed him away as hard as she could. He stared at her, his eyes wide. After a few seconds had passed, the surprised look faded from his face and he sneered. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and had just opened his mouth to say something when Pansy and Neville walked in.
“But it looked fine,” Neville protested, giving Pansy a weak smile. “The last time I checked on it, it looked perfect.”
“And when did you check on it last?” Pansy asked, her lips pursed together as her hands flew to her hips.
“About an hour ago,” came his muted response. Pansy rolled her eyes and turned back to her guests.
“We’re going to have to go out for dinner, after all,” she said, not missing the way Ginny averted her eyes and the rosy flush of Draco’s skin. “What sounds good to you?”
“Mystique,” Draco said automatically. Ginny’s eyebrows shot up as everyone began gathering their cloaks, and when they’d gathered around the floo, Neville looked at Ginny.
“Aren’t you coming, Gin?”
“Erm – not this time, thanks,” she declined, shaking her head. Pansy frowned.
“Why in the bloody hell not?”
“Because she can’t afford it,” Draco drawled, his perfect sneer plastered on the perfect face that Ginny really wanted to sock with her perfect fist.
“I can afford it, I just – it’s that – well,” she said, exasperated, “Mystique is the best restaurant in the Wizarding world, and look at how I’m dressed.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Neville said disbelievingly. Pansy tut-tutted and rolled her eyes again.
“Men,” she snapped. “Follow me, Ginny.” She led Ginny into the bedroom she shared with Neville, and began rummaging through her closet. “Will this do?” she asked, holding up a slinky black dress.
“On second thought…” Ginny said uncertainly, looking down at her snug jeans.
“Oh, no, you’re going to wear it now, or you’re going to offend me,” Pansy demanded, shoving the dress at her before leaving the room. With a sigh, Ginny shed her clothes and pulled on Pansy’s dress. It was too snug across the breasts (Pansy had apparently been performing glamour charms on herself for quite some time) and bum (which Pansy had obviously been too proud of to charm), making her look as though she was all boobs and bum.
She transfigured her trainers into high heels and gnawed mercilessly on her bottom lip as she rejoined them. Neville’s eyes nearly popped out of his head, Pansy murmured with frank appreciation, and Malfoy… well, she didn’t bloody well care what Malfoy’s reaction was.
“I’m ready, then.”
“Aren’t you going to wear a cloak or something?” Malfoy snapped. Ginny refused to look at him.
“I didn’t bring one. But since you’re so worried about being seen with me in public, how would it be if I flooed before you did?” She stepped into the floo and called out “Mystique!” before anyone could stop her.
“I’m going after her,” Neville announced. “You guys can catch up.” And then he was gone, leaving Pansy and Draco alone. Pansy turned on him.
“What in the name of Morgaine are you doing?” she demanded.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he sniffed disdainfully.
“You’re not fooling anyone,” she announced, her eyes narrowing at him. “I saw the looks on your faces when Neville and I came back into the kitchen, and I know something happened. Why are you being so nasty to her now? You catch more flies with honey than you do with vinegar, Draco.”
“Mustn’t let the Weasel think that she can just put her dirty paws on me whenever the mood strikes her,” he said, shrugging carelessly. She gritted her teeth.
“And you mustn’t let her think that you’re not interested when it isn’t true,” she shot back, her eyes sparking with anger. He arched an eyebrow at her.
“And who says it isn’t?”
“I say it isn’t,” she declared, poking a slender finger into his chest. “And if you knew what was good for you, you’d quit prancing around in front of her like a ponce and do something about the mutual attraction.”
He decided to ignore the ponce slur – just until he got something clear. “Hang on - mutual attraction, did you say?”
“You’re not stupid, Draco. Test the waters for yourself and find out.” She stepped into the floo and smirked at him before disappearing.
“Ponce?” he sniffed, stepping into the hearth. “I’m more manly than your fiancé any day of the week.”
~*~ ~*~ ~*~
Dinner was uneventful insomuch as Ginny absolutely refused to even look in Draco’s general direction. Whenever he would make a comment or direct a barb at her, she would simply smile beatifically and ignore his presence.
It was really starting to piss him off.
After all, what right did she have? She had kissed him, not the other way around! It wasn’t as though he’d trespassed on some sacred ground or taken advantage of her, or anything like that. If anything, she’d taken advantage of him!
He was just beginning to enjoy the mental images that the phrase brought to mind when he realized that the devil herself was speaking to him. He frowned. “What are you nattering on about now, Parkinson?”
“I was just saying,” she snapped, her patience wearing dangerously thin, “That your next party should be a themed one.”
“Don’t be stupid,” he replied lazily, reaching for his glass of wine. “The next party is already planned out entirely.”
“I realize that,” Pansy retorted. “It’s tomorrow night, so you wouldn’t have the time to change it properly. I meant the one after that.”
“Well, I for one can’t wait to see what lovely color Ginny will be wearing next,” Neville said, smiling in his attempt to draw his best friend into the conversation. It was painfully obvious to Ginny that he’d had just a bit too much wine.
“What does that matter?” Draco asked, his eyes cold. “All that matters to her is that every man in the room notice her and beg for a dance – or a shag. Either way, it’s the same.”
Ginny’s face turned magenta, but still she said nothing to Draco, refusing to let him bait her. “Actually, Nev, I hadn’t planned on going to the next party.”
Only Pansy was close enough to hear Draco’s hiss of anger.
“That’s good,” he drawled, lifting the goblet of tart liquid to his lips. “Since I wasn’t planning on inviting you.”
Ginny’s tenuous grasp on her temper snapped. She rose from the table, tossing her napkin down, and mumbled her excuses to Neville and Pansy before shooting Draco a fiery look and storming out of the restaurant. She barreled out into the street, getting roughly about a half a block away when a hand reached out and grabbed her arm, spinning her around.
“I realize that the Weasleys have no manners, but this is ridiculous! What in the bloody fuck do you think you’re doing, just walking out like that?” Draco demanded, his slate eyes icy with anger.
“I’m going home,” she snapped, her chest heaving in her anger. “I’m tired of listening to your pathetic attempts to insult me!”
“Pathetic?” he echoed, his eyes narrowing into slits.
“Yes, pathetic,” she reiterated. “As if you not inviting me to your next soirée was going to hurt my feelings.” She snorted.
“Of course it didn’t work, since that’s so clearly not why you left, isn’t it?” he challenged. Her mouth opened and closed several times, but no sound came out. Just as he was beginning to look completely satisfied with himself, she did the only thing that she could think of that would make him go away.
She slapped him.
Freckled palm connected with alabaster cheek, and left her skin stinging from the contact. The left side of his face bore her handprint, emblazoned in scarlet for all to see. His eyes went dark gray, and then she was shoved - her back pressed against the brick wall of the building he’d stopped her in front of – and being kissed as though his life depended on it.
There was nothing gentle about the contact whatsoever. Teeth clacked against each other, her fingers tangled mercilessly in his shoulder-length hair, and tongues danced wildly together.
If any passerby on the street had seen them, they might have thought that the two were trying to devour each other. It was partially true – the intensity with which Draco was kissing her was making Ginny feel very much as though he wanted to devour her. The thought didn’t bother her as it probably ought – instead it started a fire low in her belly and gave her an excuse to kiss him back with every bit as much intensity.
After all, if she showed him any weakness, he would find some way to exploit it to his advantage. And she couldn’t have him thinking that she couldn’t give as good as she got, either.
When her lips became sore from the pressure of his mouth, she began to wonder if Draco Malfoy was really as promiscuous as everyone thought him to be. Really, if the man was this into simply kissing her, then he wasn’t getting something he needed, somewhere. She was about to break away and inform him of this when she felt his right hand move to cup her bum. Her gasp of surprise rose into the night air as he finally moved his mouth from hers in order to affix it to the spot just below her ear. When he squeezed gently, she let out a tiny squeak.
And all at once, it was too much. She pushed him away, waiting until his eyes (which had turned such a dark shade of gray that they nearly looked black) met hers before she spoke.
“Follow me.”
She didn’t stop to question whether or not he actually wanted to go home with her; she didn’t really care. She just needed something to stop the aching that had been building up inside of her for nigh to two weeks, and if Malfoy could – er, fill the void, so to speak – then so be it. He’d have to do.
She walked briskly down the sidewalk, not bothering to pause and listen for footsteps, until she reached a store that she was certain had a floo portal inside. She pushed the door open and strode inside, stepping into the floo. When she turned around, she saw that Malfoy was right behind her. He stepped into the floo without hesitation, and she grabbed onto his arm as she said “Ginny Weasley’s flat.”
They hadn’t even made it out of her fireplace before they were pawing wildly at each other. She yanked off his shirt and dropped it carelessly on the floor, and he didn’t protest. Instead he fastened his mouth on hers as his hands found the hem of Pansy’s dress, riding high on her thighs. He pushed it upward, letting his hands slide against her skin as he did.
His palms skimmed over the skin of her outer thighs, then over her hips, and up the sides of her ribcage. He detached himself from her long enough to pull the flimsy piece of material over her head and throw it to a corner of the room, and then his mouth was right back on hers.
His hands roamed over the skin of her back and came to rest at the clasp of her bra, which he fumbled with. Annoyed, she reached down and began unzipping his pants, and pulled her mouth away from his to pant “It’s in the front.”
She had his pants unzipped and pushed halfway down to his knees when her words registered, and his hands deftly unfastened the emerald green bra she’d only worn once before. He pushed it down her arms and cupped a breast in one hand, letting the other hand slide down her back and beneath the worn fabric of her knickers.
He managed somehow to get loose of his pants, and Ginny was surprised – and somewhat relieved, at this stage – to discover that he was now completely unclothed and very ready for her. Her head tilted back as he dipped his head to taste the pale flesh of a breast, and her fingernails dug into the bare skin of his shoulders.
“Malfoy,” she gasped. He didn’t look up from his task.
“Mmm?”
“Now,” she ordered. He didn’t need to be told twice, and pushed her backwards until her bare back was pressed against the wall. With one swift motion, her knickers were gone, and she was standing in front of him, completely bared. She didn’t have time to have doubts about whether or not he thought her body adequate enough, though, because in the next moment, he’d slid a broad hand beneath her knee and pulled a leg up around his hip to gain entrance.
She let out a long, keening moan, unable to help herself. He was still for a moment, enjoying the heat of her. When she began to move her hips, however, he lost his tightly reined control, and began thrusting recklessly into her.
Her fingernails felt like they were permanently embedded in his shoulders at this point, but he didn’t care. A stolen glance at her face revealed that her eyes were closed, and her bottom lip was caught between her teeth. Every time he withdrew and reentered her, the smallest gasp would escape her, and the tiny noise spurred him on.
Beads of sweat broke out on his forehead and even though he felt the urge to close his eyes, he kept them open, his eyes burning into hers. She was watching him through heavily lidded eyes, and her face was flushed – whether from the physical exertion or from pleasure, he wasn’t sure. When her eyes finally closed and she caught her plump lower lip between her teeth, he knew she was close.
His thrusting became more irregular as her slick walls tightened around him, causing him to release a guttural groan. Her grip on his shoulders relaxed just as he emptied hot jets of himself into her. He slumped forward and rested his moist forehead against hers, their sweat mingling together.
Her chest was heaving, effectively rubbing her pebbled nipples against his bare chest, and causing him to shiver. Feeling sapped of all energy, he gently disentangled himself and pulled away, watching her expression carefully.
Her eyes fluttered open, and she gave him a soft smile, which startled him. She began gathering her discarded clothing, and he took her cue to do the same thing, pulling his pants on quickly. When she began humming softly to herself, he turned and stared at her. What the hell was going on?
He only realized that he’d spoken the question aloud when she turned to look at him, her eyebrows arched.
“Absolutely nothing is wrong, Malfoy. Why?”
He was too suspicious to say anything else, and just shook his head. He pulled on his shirt, ran his hands through his hair, and then, with a final look at her, he stepped back into the floo.
Something had gone terribly wrong, he thought. He’d only meant to pick a fight with her when she’d stormed out of the restaurant – after all, how dare she leave their presence like that? – and instead, he’d wound up following her to her flat and shagging her senseless.
A smile curved his lips up slightly – well, that part hadn’t really been so bad. His smile faded as quickly as it had come when it began to sink in. He’d shagged a Weasley. No, it was worse than that – she was a Potter now. He’d shagged the same woman that Harry fucking Potter had been sleeping with for years, and that irked him. He was not one to take castoffs, no matter how enticing their moans were to his ears.
He stopped dead in the middle of the hallway that led to his bedroom, and his eyes widened. Potter hadn’t divorced her. It was the other way around, wasn’t it? So she wasn’t a castoff, after all.
Suddenly those keening, wanton moans could have been Phoenix song, for all he knew. A smirk graced his lips as he entered his room and began discarding his clothes, dropping them neatly over the back of a chair.
Everything would be fine now, as long as she didn’t go blabbing to everyone about what they’d done. He pulled on a pair of silk pyjama pants as he considered the possible ramifications.
She could try to extort money from me. He nearly laughed at this prospect. He’d recognized the designer clothes she’d been wearing as of late, and knew that it was proof that she already had some money. It made him smile even wider at the thought that perhaps she had gone on a shopping spree with Potter’s money and had left him destitute. Of course, he knew that wasn’t true, but it was still a pleasant thought.
She could get pregnant. He shook his head. She was a Weasley and as fertile as they appeared to be, she’d been with Potter for years and, to his knowledge, had never conceived. She had to be on the contraceptive potion – and even if she wasn’t, she was a big girl, and she knew the proper charms to cast to avoid an unwanted pregnancy.
Then again, he thought, sliding beneath the silk sheets of his King sized bed, if she did by some miracle get pregnant, it was possible that she might try and trick him into marriage. The thought made him fume. No one would ever trick him into marriage through a child.
Even as he drifted into sleep, his brow was knit with worry. What had he sacrificed, for a few moments’ pleasure?
Ginny’s lips remained pressed against Draco’s for roughly five seconds when she came to her senses and pushed him away as hard as she could. He stared at her, his eyes wide. After a few seconds had passed, the surprised look faded from his face and he sneered. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and had just opened his mouth to say something when Pansy and Neville walked in.
“But it looked fine,” Neville protested, giving Pansy a weak smile. “The last time I checked on it, it looked perfect.”
“And when did you check on it last?” Pansy asked, her lips pursed together as her hands flew to her hips.
“About an hour ago,” came his muted response. Pansy rolled her eyes and turned back to her guests.
“We’re going to have to go out for dinner, after all,” she said, not missing the way Ginny averted her eyes and the rosy flush of Draco’s skin. “What sounds good to you?”
“Mystique,” Draco said automatically. Ginny’s eyebrows shot up as everyone began gathering their cloaks, and when they’d gathered around the floo, Neville looked at Ginny.
“Aren’t you coming, Gin?”
“Erm – not this time, thanks,” she declined, shaking her head. Pansy frowned.
“Why in the bloody hell not?”
“Because she can’t afford it,” Draco drawled, his perfect sneer plastered on the perfect face that Ginny really wanted to sock with her perfect fist.
“I can afford it, I just – it’s that – well,” she said, exasperated, “Mystique is the best restaurant in the Wizarding world, and look at how I’m dressed.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Neville said disbelievingly. Pansy tut-tutted and rolled her eyes again.
“Men,” she snapped. “Follow me, Ginny.” She led Ginny into the bedroom she shared with Neville, and began rummaging through her closet. “Will this do?” she asked, holding up a slinky black dress.
“On second thought…” Ginny said uncertainly, looking down at her snug jeans.
“Oh, no, you’re going to wear it now, or you’re going to offend me,” Pansy demanded, shoving the dress at her before leaving the room. With a sigh, Ginny shed her clothes and pulled on Pansy’s dress. It was too snug across the breasts (Pansy had apparently been performing glamour charms on herself for quite some time) and bum (which Pansy had obviously been too proud of to charm), making her look as though she was all boobs and bum.
She transfigured her trainers into high heels and gnawed mercilessly on her bottom lip as she rejoined them. Neville’s eyes nearly popped out of his head, Pansy murmured with frank appreciation, and Malfoy… well, she didn’t bloody well care what Malfoy’s reaction was.
“I’m ready, then.”
“Aren’t you going to wear a cloak or something?” Malfoy snapped. Ginny refused to look at him.
“I didn’t bring one. But since you’re so worried about being seen with me in public, how would it be if I flooed before you did?” She stepped into the floo and called out “Mystique!” before anyone could stop her.
“I’m going after her,” Neville announced. “You guys can catch up.” And then he was gone, leaving Pansy and Draco alone. Pansy turned on him.
“What in the name of Morgaine are you doing?” she demanded.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he sniffed disdainfully.
“You’re not fooling anyone,” she announced, her eyes narrowing at him. “I saw the looks on your faces when Neville and I came back into the kitchen, and I know something happened. Why are you being so nasty to her now? You catch more flies with honey than you do with vinegar, Draco.”
“Mustn’t let the Weasel think that she can just put her dirty paws on me whenever the mood strikes her,” he said, shrugging carelessly. She gritted her teeth.
“And you mustn’t let her think that you’re not interested when it isn’t true,” she shot back, her eyes sparking with anger. He arched an eyebrow at her.
“And who says it isn’t?”
“I say it isn’t,” she declared, poking a slender finger into his chest. “And if you knew what was good for you, you’d quit prancing around in front of her like a ponce and do something about the mutual attraction.”
He decided to ignore the ponce slur – just until he got something clear. “Hang on - mutual attraction, did you say?”
“You’re not stupid, Draco. Test the waters for yourself and find out.” She stepped into the floo and smirked at him before disappearing.
“Ponce?” he sniffed, stepping into the hearth. “I’m more manly than your fiancé any day of the week.”
Dinner was uneventful insomuch as Ginny absolutely refused to even look in Draco’s general direction. Whenever he would make a comment or direct a barb at her, she would simply smile beatifically and ignore his presence.
It was really starting to piss him off.
After all, what right did she have? She had kissed him, not the other way around! It wasn’t as though he’d trespassed on some sacred ground or taken advantage of her, or anything like that. If anything, she’d taken advantage of him!
He was just beginning to enjoy the mental images that the phrase brought to mind when he realized that the devil herself was speaking to him. He frowned. “What are you nattering on about now, Parkinson?”
“I was just saying,” she snapped, her patience wearing dangerously thin, “That your next party should be a themed one.”
“Don’t be stupid,” he replied lazily, reaching for his glass of wine. “The next party is already planned out entirely.”
“I realize that,” Pansy retorted. “It’s tomorrow night, so you wouldn’t have the time to change it properly. I meant the one after that.”
“Well, I for one can’t wait to see what lovely color Ginny will be wearing next,” Neville said, smiling in his attempt to draw his best friend into the conversation. It was painfully obvious to Ginny that he’d had just a bit too much wine.
“What does that matter?” Draco asked, his eyes cold. “All that matters to her is that every man in the room notice her and beg for a dance – or a shag. Either way, it’s the same.”
Ginny’s face turned magenta, but still she said nothing to Draco, refusing to let him bait her. “Actually, Nev, I hadn’t planned on going to the next party.”
Only Pansy was close enough to hear Draco’s hiss of anger.
“That’s good,” he drawled, lifting the goblet of tart liquid to his lips. “Since I wasn’t planning on inviting you.”
Ginny’s tenuous grasp on her temper snapped. She rose from the table, tossing her napkin down, and mumbled her excuses to Neville and Pansy before shooting Draco a fiery look and storming out of the restaurant. She barreled out into the street, getting roughly about a half a block away when a hand reached out and grabbed her arm, spinning her around.
“I realize that the Weasleys have no manners, but this is ridiculous! What in the bloody fuck do you think you’re doing, just walking out like that?” Draco demanded, his slate eyes icy with anger.
“I’m going home,” she snapped, her chest heaving in her anger. “I’m tired of listening to your pathetic attempts to insult me!”
“Pathetic?” he echoed, his eyes narrowing into slits.
“Yes, pathetic,” she reiterated. “As if you not inviting me to your next soirée was going to hurt my feelings.” She snorted.
“Of course it didn’t work, since that’s so clearly not why you left, isn’t it?” he challenged. Her mouth opened and closed several times, but no sound came out. Just as he was beginning to look completely satisfied with himself, she did the only thing that she could think of that would make him go away.
She slapped him.
Freckled palm connected with alabaster cheek, and left her skin stinging from the contact. The left side of his face bore her handprint, emblazoned in scarlet for all to see. His eyes went dark gray, and then she was shoved - her back pressed against the brick wall of the building he’d stopped her in front of – and being kissed as though his life depended on it.
There was nothing gentle about the contact whatsoever. Teeth clacked against each other, her fingers tangled mercilessly in his shoulder-length hair, and tongues danced wildly together.
If any passerby on the street had seen them, they might have thought that the two were trying to devour each other. It was partially true – the intensity with which Draco was kissing her was making Ginny feel very much as though he wanted to devour her. The thought didn’t bother her as it probably ought – instead it started a fire low in her belly and gave her an excuse to kiss him back with every bit as much intensity.
After all, if she showed him any weakness, he would find some way to exploit it to his advantage. And she couldn’t have him thinking that she couldn’t give as good as she got, either.
When her lips became sore from the pressure of his mouth, she began to wonder if Draco Malfoy was really as promiscuous as everyone thought him to be. Really, if the man was this into simply kissing her, then he wasn’t getting something he needed, somewhere. She was about to break away and inform him of this when she felt his right hand move to cup her bum. Her gasp of surprise rose into the night air as he finally moved his mouth from hers in order to affix it to the spot just below her ear. When he squeezed gently, she let out a tiny squeak.
And all at once, it was too much. She pushed him away, waiting until his eyes (which had turned such a dark shade of gray that they nearly looked black) met hers before she spoke.
“Follow me.”
She didn’t stop to question whether or not he actually wanted to go home with her; she didn’t really care. She just needed something to stop the aching that had been building up inside of her for nigh to two weeks, and if Malfoy could – er, fill the void, so to speak – then so be it. He’d have to do.
She walked briskly down the sidewalk, not bothering to pause and listen for footsteps, until she reached a store that she was certain had a floo portal inside. She pushed the door open and strode inside, stepping into the floo. When she turned around, she saw that Malfoy was right behind her. He stepped into the floo without hesitation, and she grabbed onto his arm as she said “Ginny Weasley’s flat.”
They hadn’t even made it out of her fireplace before they were pawing wildly at each other. She yanked off his shirt and dropped it carelessly on the floor, and he didn’t protest. Instead he fastened his mouth on hers as his hands found the hem of Pansy’s dress, riding high on her thighs. He pushed it upward, letting his hands slide against her skin as he did.
His palms skimmed over the skin of her outer thighs, then over her hips, and up the sides of her ribcage. He detached himself from her long enough to pull the flimsy piece of material over her head and throw it to a corner of the room, and then his mouth was right back on hers.
His hands roamed over the skin of her back and came to rest at the clasp of her bra, which he fumbled with. Annoyed, she reached down and began unzipping his pants, and pulled her mouth away from his to pant “It’s in the front.”
She had his pants unzipped and pushed halfway down to his knees when her words registered, and his hands deftly unfastened the emerald green bra she’d only worn once before. He pushed it down her arms and cupped a breast in one hand, letting the other hand slide down her back and beneath the worn fabric of her knickers.
He managed somehow to get loose of his pants, and Ginny was surprised – and somewhat relieved, at this stage – to discover that he was now completely unclothed and very ready for her. Her head tilted back as he dipped his head to taste the pale flesh of a breast, and her fingernails dug into the bare skin of his shoulders.
“Malfoy,” she gasped. He didn’t look up from his task.
“Mmm?”
“Now,” she ordered. He didn’t need to be told twice, and pushed her backwards until her bare back was pressed against the wall. With one swift motion, her knickers were gone, and she was standing in front of him, completely bared. She didn’t have time to have doubts about whether or not he thought her body adequate enough, though, because in the next moment, he’d slid a broad hand beneath her knee and pulled a leg up around his hip to gain entrance.
She let out a long, keening moan, unable to help herself. He was still for a moment, enjoying the heat of her. When she began to move her hips, however, he lost his tightly reined control, and began thrusting recklessly into her.
Her fingernails felt like they were permanently embedded in his shoulders at this point, but he didn’t care. A stolen glance at her face revealed that her eyes were closed, and her bottom lip was caught between her teeth. Every time he withdrew and reentered her, the smallest gasp would escape her, and the tiny noise spurred him on.
Beads of sweat broke out on his forehead and even though he felt the urge to close his eyes, he kept them open, his eyes burning into hers. She was watching him through heavily lidded eyes, and her face was flushed – whether from the physical exertion or from pleasure, he wasn’t sure. When her eyes finally closed and she caught her plump lower lip between her teeth, he knew she was close.
His thrusting became more irregular as her slick walls tightened around him, causing him to release a guttural groan. Her grip on his shoulders relaxed just as he emptied hot jets of himself into her. He slumped forward and rested his moist forehead against hers, their sweat mingling together.
Her chest was heaving, effectively rubbing her pebbled nipples against his bare chest, and causing him to shiver. Feeling sapped of all energy, he gently disentangled himself and pulled away, watching her expression carefully.
Her eyes fluttered open, and she gave him a soft smile, which startled him. She began gathering her discarded clothing, and he took her cue to do the same thing, pulling his pants on quickly. When she began humming softly to herself, he turned and stared at her. What the hell was going on?
He only realized that he’d spoken the question aloud when she turned to look at him, her eyebrows arched.
“Absolutely nothing is wrong, Malfoy. Why?”
He was too suspicious to say anything else, and just shook his head. He pulled on his shirt, ran his hands through his hair, and then, with a final look at her, he stepped back into the floo.
Something had gone terribly wrong, he thought. He’d only meant to pick a fight with her when she’d stormed out of the restaurant – after all, how dare she leave their presence like that? – and instead, he’d wound up following her to her flat and shagging her senseless.
A smile curved his lips up slightly – well, that part hadn’t really been so bad. His smile faded as quickly as it had come when it began to sink in. He’d shagged a Weasley. No, it was worse than that – she was a Potter now. He’d shagged the same woman that Harry fucking Potter had been sleeping with for years, and that irked him. He was not one to take castoffs, no matter how enticing their moans were to his ears.
He stopped dead in the middle of the hallway that led to his bedroom, and his eyes widened. Potter hadn’t divorced her. It was the other way around, wasn’t it? So she wasn’t a castoff, after all.
Suddenly those keening, wanton moans could have been Phoenix song, for all he knew. A smirk graced his lips as he entered his room and began discarding his clothes, dropping them neatly over the back of a chair.
Everything would be fine now, as long as she didn’t go blabbing to everyone about what they’d done. He pulled on a pair of silk pyjama pants as he considered the possible ramifications.
She could try to extort money from me. He nearly laughed at this prospect. He’d recognized the designer clothes she’d been wearing as of late, and knew that it was proof that she already had some money. It made him smile even wider at the thought that perhaps she had gone on a shopping spree with Potter’s money and had left him destitute. Of course, he knew that wasn’t true, but it was still a pleasant thought.
She could get pregnant. He shook his head. She was a Weasley and as fertile as they appeared to be, she’d been with Potter for years and, to his knowledge, had never conceived. She had to be on the contraceptive potion – and even if she wasn’t, she was a big girl, and she knew the proper charms to cast to avoid an unwanted pregnancy.
Then again, he thought, sliding beneath the silk sheets of his King sized bed, if she did by some miracle get pregnant, it was possible that she might try and trick him into marriage. The thought made him fume. No one would ever trick him into marriage through a child.
Even as he drifted into sleep, his brow was knit with worry. What had he sacrificed, for a few moments’ pleasure?
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