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Draco Malfoy stepped out of the ancient general store and leaned against the wooden railing. He could smell the rain in the air. In fact, he guessed it would start any second. No sense in walking back toward the house and getting soaked half-way there, he thought as he sat on the dusty steps.
The rain was desperately needed; there was no doubt in that. The trees were limp, the grass was browning, the dirt roads were cracking. The town was old, desolate, and dilapidated which, of course, made it all the more appealing to the Order of the Phoenix. Draco, much to his displeasure, was being held with a few other ‘security risks’ at this remote location. Since he was still considered young and Molly Weasley was a formidable advocate for ‘outdoor play,’ Draco was fitted with an alarm that was set to go off should he leave a set parameter. This allowed him to wander freely through the nearly-abandoned town.
There was little else for him to look forward to besides his afternoon trips to the general store. He reached in his pocket and pulled out a piece of peppermint he’d just purchased with his meager allowance, peeled off the packaging and popped it into his mouth.
Certainly, he’d be lectured for taking so long. Mother-of-all, Mrs. Weasley, had sent him for potatoes. He was already forced to wear Muggle clothes, spend time with Weasleys, do chores, and make his own bed. Now he was running grocery errands as well.
Then he saw her. The reason he was here rather than dying in the war with the Death Eaters. The girl who’d stood up for him against Potter, Weasley, and Granger. He wiped the sweat from his brow and leaned against the railing. She was walking in his general direction and he felt his pulse quicken. Just then, a huge drop of liquid fell from the rolling sky and landed on his hand.
She hadn’t seen him; she had, however, noticed the first drops of rain. Quickly, Ginny Weasley kicked off her sandals and shrank them to fit in her pocket. She spun once, bare-footed in the dust. Draco’s lip curled at the thought of her dirty feet tracking dust all over the clean hall floor. The disgust was short lived.
It was now truly raining. With the heat of the day, Draco thought it was a wonder that the rain didn’t sizzle and vanish as it hit her skin. She looked like fire. Rather than extinguishing in the rain, she instead seemed to come alive.
She was spinning, arms outstretched, in the dusty and abandoned side street. Her fiercely-red hair was twisting and wild in the rising winds. With her head tilted back she laughed at the grey skies, swollen with moisture. As if in answer, the clouds poured down upon her while she spun. She was quickly becoming thoroughly soaked; her wet hair sticking to her pale, freckled skin.
He was mesmerized as he watched her dance. The roof of the store didn’t go out as far as Draco had sat, so the rain saturated him. His wet hair was dripping into his eyes and tickling his lips. Her clothing, thin cotton to help ventilate in the heat, was now suctioned to her skin and fairly transparent. Thunder rumbled somewhere in the distance and he shivered despite the heat.
She suddenly stopped dancing and looked directly at him.
He swallowed and shifted slightly in his seat. Ginny was walking toward him. “Hey, Malfoy!” she called out cheerfully through the rain.
Draco nodded.
“Wha’cha doin’?” She had reached the bottom of the steps.
“Potatoes.” He sniffed and motioned to the sack on the step next to him.
“Right.” She rolled her eyes and smiled impishly. “And now you’re soaked. Poor dear, you’ve ruined your hair.”
Ginny laughed as she reached out to tousle his head. He looked back at her and felt a smile tug at his own lips. She was really bad for his cool, arrogant exterior. Something about her made it seem all right to relax. Still laughing, she reached out for his hand. “Come with me.”
Draco was unable to stop her. “Come with you where?”
“Play with me in the rain.” She smiled at him, all bright-eyed and sparkly as she tugged at him. He was terrified of her.
“Malfoys don’t play.” He frowned. He didn’t even know how to play.
Ginny laughed again. This laugh made Draco feel a little foolish and extremely nervous. She may have been allowed to do things like this while she was growing up, but he had never even jumped in a mud puddle. She made it sound so easy, but he couldn’t think of a single benefit to ‘playing in the rain.’ There was the mud that would ultimately ruin his trousers, the wrinkles, and the fact that undoubtedly he would make a fool of himself.
“Everyone played at some point in their lives, Malfoy. It’s easy.” Ginny drug him to a nearby puddle and dipped a bronze-painted toe into the water. “Ready? I’ll show you.”
Draco started to shake his head and stop her, but it was too late. She bounced and splashed down in the water. Light brown drops hit Draco’s legs. Laughing, Ginny stepped from the puddle and looked at the shocked, soaked Slytherin. “Your turn!”
“No way,” he said as he looked at her in horror. She still had hold of his hand, which was causing a good deal of confusion in his brain. He couldn’t, at this moment, fathom the idea of jumping in a mud puddle while holding the hand of the Weasel-girl. Yet, here he was.
“Look, I’m not making you take your shoes off. Though, you’ll probably want to once you start squishing in them.” She laughed as his contemplative gaze at the puddle shifted to one of confusion and fear as he looked at his feet.
Ginny sighed. “Do I have to push you?”
“Don’t even think about it,” he warned. “I just want to take my time.”
Ginny flipped her sopping hair and rolled her eyes. Draco swallowed hard and gathered his courage. He stepped forward and into the puddle with all the dignity a Malfoy would possess when making a grand ballroom entrance. Ginny burst into hysterics.
“That wasn’t much of a jump there babe.” Malfoy looked offended and lifted his right foot and brought it down a little harder.
Splash!
Ginny was bent over, clutching her stomach, laughing. Draco, stomping in the puddle, discovered he was laughing now as well. He looked up slyly at Ginny and kicked water in her direction. Immediately, she stopped laughing and looked at him in astonishment.
“You splashed me!” She dropped his hand.
“Yes.” His hand felt cold without hers. He wanted it back.
“Yeah, but you splashed me!” She exclaimed and pushed him. Draco fell backwards onto his rear, right into the puddle. He looked up at her, stunned; she laughed and took off running down the road.
His first thought was vengeance. His second thought was how gorgeous she looked soaking wet and running in the rain. The combination of those two thoughts clouded out any common sense the young man had left.
He leapt from the puddle and tore after her. It didn’t take him long to slip out of his shoes. He stumbled for a moment, but resisted falling. Ginny was laughing and heading for a field across the street that was a shortcut back to the house. “You’ll never catch me!” She shouted as her mud-streaked feet passed from the dirt road to the grass.
“Guess again!” Draco called back to her as the distance between them lessened. He wouldn’t have believed the words came from his own lips if he hadn’t heard them with his own ears. A tiny voice in the back of his head was saying something about this being very out of character for him. He ignored it. After all, there wasn’t a soul around to witness this. He could deny it all later, if need be.
He easily closed the distance between them once he passed into the field. Wrapping his arms around the Weasley girl’s waist, he tackled her to the ground. She squealed as they landed; he rolled her onto her back and before either of them could think, his lips covered hers.
Her giggling attempt at freeing herself ceased immediately. He kissed her recklessly, with full abandon. Her hands found their way to his upper arms, but rather than fight him off, she pulled him tighter, closer to her. Every nerve in his body seemed aware of how he was pressed against her. She tasted like rain and freedom and excitement.
He couldn’t help himself. The more he kissed her, the more he wanted to. She seemed equally aggressive. Had she been wanting him like he’d been wanting her?
His lips left hers to taste her neck; her skin made the rain taste sweeter somehow. Ginny moaned softly and arched into him. She was driving him crazy; his blood felt so hot. “Draco?” she whispered throatily. He stopped his assault on her collar bone and looked up at her.
“Shit!” He jumped off and backed away. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have… I’m sorry.” He was talking fast and pacing around in little steps looking very distraught. Ginny started laughing.
“Don’t try and tell me you didn’t want to do that.” She gave him an even-you-don’t-lie-that-well look. He stopped his pacing and looked down at her. The rain was falling more softly now, but it was dripping down her cheeks steadily. She had a twig in her hair and a smudge of dirt across her nose. Did she ever not look amazing, he asked himself.
She looked up at him; his hair was hanging loosely in his eyes, dripping. She’d never seen him so relaxed and so … wet. Something about him still looked completely unhinged and it made her heart race all the faster. It would be hard explaining this development to the family.
“I… Well, it’s… bloody hell, Ginevra!” He moaned as he dropped to his knees before her looking utterly lost.
“It’s okay, Draco. What do they expect putting two teenagers together in the middle of nowhere with nothing else to do?”
Draco looked slightly put out by this. “What do you mean? I didn’t kiss you because I was bored.”
“You didn’t?”
“No.”
“Why’d you kiss me then?” She cocked her head to the side and watched him carefully.
“Why’d you kiss me back? You bored?”
“No.”
“Well then?”
“You first.”
Draco sighed. He wasn’t prepared to share with her that he’d been watching her with great interest since she’d hit him with the bat bogey hex in his fifth year. Not that he’d realized that the great interest he was viewing her with was not hatred and loathing, but more like curiosity and the beginnings of respect. It was while he was on the run with Snape at the end of his sixth year that Draco started to reevaluate his priorities.
“We better get back to the house. Your mother is likely to send a search party.” Draco held out his hand and helped her up.
“So you’re not going to tell me why you kissed me?” She looked slightly disappointed, but not confused. He looked at her and smirked.
“Why should I? You know why I kissed you.”
They made it back to the house and peeled off most of their clothes in the front hallway. Molly fussed them both for being late and wet and dirty.
Cheerful despite the lecture, Ginny bounced up and kissed her mother’s cheek. “Sorry mum.”
Ginny grinned at Draco, “See you at dinner?” He blushed slightly and nodded once quickly. Molly, confused by their odd behavior, glared at the puddle of muddy water collecting on her clean floor.
“Ginny, get changed and then clean this mess up.”
“All right, mum.” She chuckled as she rushed off to change her clothes and clean up a bit.
“Sorry about the mud, Mrs. Weasley,” Draco mumbled as he gathered his discarded clothes and skirted around her without making eye contact.
Molly, hands on her hips and a bemused look on her face, watched the two youngest residents rush off in opposite directions. Odd, she thought, very odd.
“Draco?” She called as realization dawned on her, a broad smile replacing the thin line of concern. She watched as his blond head vanished down the stairs. “Where are my potatoes?”
The rain was desperately needed; there was no doubt in that. The trees were limp, the grass was browning, the dirt roads were cracking. The town was old, desolate, and dilapidated which, of course, made it all the more appealing to the Order of the Phoenix. Draco, much to his displeasure, was being held with a few other ‘security risks’ at this remote location. Since he was still considered young and Molly Weasley was a formidable advocate for ‘outdoor play,’ Draco was fitted with an alarm that was set to go off should he leave a set parameter. This allowed him to wander freely through the nearly-abandoned town.
There was little else for him to look forward to besides his afternoon trips to the general store. He reached in his pocket and pulled out a piece of peppermint he’d just purchased with his meager allowance, peeled off the packaging and popped it into his mouth.
Certainly, he’d be lectured for taking so long. Mother-of-all, Mrs. Weasley, had sent him for potatoes. He was already forced to wear Muggle clothes, spend time with Weasleys, do chores, and make his own bed. Now he was running grocery errands as well.
Then he saw her. The reason he was here rather than dying in the war with the Death Eaters. The girl who’d stood up for him against Potter, Weasley, and Granger. He wiped the sweat from his brow and leaned against the railing. She was walking in his general direction and he felt his pulse quicken. Just then, a huge drop of liquid fell from the rolling sky and landed on his hand.
She hadn’t seen him; she had, however, noticed the first drops of rain. Quickly, Ginny Weasley kicked off her sandals and shrank them to fit in her pocket. She spun once, bare-footed in the dust. Draco’s lip curled at the thought of her dirty feet tracking dust all over the clean hall floor. The disgust was short lived.
It was now truly raining. With the heat of the day, Draco thought it was a wonder that the rain didn’t sizzle and vanish as it hit her skin. She looked like fire. Rather than extinguishing in the rain, she instead seemed to come alive.
She was spinning, arms outstretched, in the dusty and abandoned side street. Her fiercely-red hair was twisting and wild in the rising winds. With her head tilted back she laughed at the grey skies, swollen with moisture. As if in answer, the clouds poured down upon her while she spun. She was quickly becoming thoroughly soaked; her wet hair sticking to her pale, freckled skin.
He was mesmerized as he watched her dance. The roof of the store didn’t go out as far as Draco had sat, so the rain saturated him. His wet hair was dripping into his eyes and tickling his lips. Her clothing, thin cotton to help ventilate in the heat, was now suctioned to her skin and fairly transparent. Thunder rumbled somewhere in the distance and he shivered despite the heat.
She suddenly stopped dancing and looked directly at him.
He swallowed and shifted slightly in his seat. Ginny was walking toward him. “Hey, Malfoy!” she called out cheerfully through the rain.
Draco nodded.
“Wha’cha doin’?” She had reached the bottom of the steps.
“Potatoes.” He sniffed and motioned to the sack on the step next to him.
“Right.” She rolled her eyes and smiled impishly. “And now you’re soaked. Poor dear, you’ve ruined your hair.”
Ginny laughed as she reached out to tousle his head. He looked back at her and felt a smile tug at his own lips. She was really bad for his cool, arrogant exterior. Something about her made it seem all right to relax. Still laughing, she reached out for his hand. “Come with me.”
Draco was unable to stop her. “Come with you where?”
“Play with me in the rain.” She smiled at him, all bright-eyed and sparkly as she tugged at him. He was terrified of her.
“Malfoys don’t play.” He frowned. He didn’t even know how to play.
Ginny laughed again. This laugh made Draco feel a little foolish and extremely nervous. She may have been allowed to do things like this while she was growing up, but he had never even jumped in a mud puddle. She made it sound so easy, but he couldn’t think of a single benefit to ‘playing in the rain.’ There was the mud that would ultimately ruin his trousers, the wrinkles, and the fact that undoubtedly he would make a fool of himself.
“Everyone played at some point in their lives, Malfoy. It’s easy.” Ginny drug him to a nearby puddle and dipped a bronze-painted toe into the water. “Ready? I’ll show you.”
Draco started to shake his head and stop her, but it was too late. She bounced and splashed down in the water. Light brown drops hit Draco’s legs. Laughing, Ginny stepped from the puddle and looked at the shocked, soaked Slytherin. “Your turn!”
“No way,” he said as he looked at her in horror. She still had hold of his hand, which was causing a good deal of confusion in his brain. He couldn’t, at this moment, fathom the idea of jumping in a mud puddle while holding the hand of the Weasel-girl. Yet, here he was.
“Look, I’m not making you take your shoes off. Though, you’ll probably want to once you start squishing in them.” She laughed as his contemplative gaze at the puddle shifted to one of confusion and fear as he looked at his feet.
Ginny sighed. “Do I have to push you?”
“Don’t even think about it,” he warned. “I just want to take my time.”
Ginny flipped her sopping hair and rolled her eyes. Draco swallowed hard and gathered his courage. He stepped forward and into the puddle with all the dignity a Malfoy would possess when making a grand ballroom entrance. Ginny burst into hysterics.
“That wasn’t much of a jump there babe.” Malfoy looked offended and lifted his right foot and brought it down a little harder.
Splash!
Ginny was bent over, clutching her stomach, laughing. Draco, stomping in the puddle, discovered he was laughing now as well. He looked up slyly at Ginny and kicked water in her direction. Immediately, she stopped laughing and looked at him in astonishment.
“You splashed me!” She dropped his hand.
“Yes.” His hand felt cold without hers. He wanted it back.
“Yeah, but you splashed me!” She exclaimed and pushed him. Draco fell backwards onto his rear, right into the puddle. He looked up at her, stunned; she laughed and took off running down the road.
His first thought was vengeance. His second thought was how gorgeous she looked soaking wet and running in the rain. The combination of those two thoughts clouded out any common sense the young man had left.
He leapt from the puddle and tore after her. It didn’t take him long to slip out of his shoes. He stumbled for a moment, but resisted falling. Ginny was laughing and heading for a field across the street that was a shortcut back to the house. “You’ll never catch me!” She shouted as her mud-streaked feet passed from the dirt road to the grass.
“Guess again!” Draco called back to her as the distance between them lessened. He wouldn’t have believed the words came from his own lips if he hadn’t heard them with his own ears. A tiny voice in the back of his head was saying something about this being very out of character for him. He ignored it. After all, there wasn’t a soul around to witness this. He could deny it all later, if need be.
He easily closed the distance between them once he passed into the field. Wrapping his arms around the Weasley girl’s waist, he tackled her to the ground. She squealed as they landed; he rolled her onto her back and before either of them could think, his lips covered hers.
Her giggling attempt at freeing herself ceased immediately. He kissed her recklessly, with full abandon. Her hands found their way to his upper arms, but rather than fight him off, she pulled him tighter, closer to her. Every nerve in his body seemed aware of how he was pressed against her. She tasted like rain and freedom and excitement.
He couldn’t help himself. The more he kissed her, the more he wanted to. She seemed equally aggressive. Had she been wanting him like he’d been wanting her?
His lips left hers to taste her neck; her skin made the rain taste sweeter somehow. Ginny moaned softly and arched into him. She was driving him crazy; his blood felt so hot. “Draco?” she whispered throatily. He stopped his assault on her collar bone and looked up at her.
“Shit!” He jumped off and backed away. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have… I’m sorry.” He was talking fast and pacing around in little steps looking very distraught. Ginny started laughing.
“Don’t try and tell me you didn’t want to do that.” She gave him an even-you-don’t-lie-that-well look. He stopped his pacing and looked down at her. The rain was falling more softly now, but it was dripping down her cheeks steadily. She had a twig in her hair and a smudge of dirt across her nose. Did she ever not look amazing, he asked himself.
She looked up at him; his hair was hanging loosely in his eyes, dripping. She’d never seen him so relaxed and so … wet. Something about him still looked completely unhinged and it made her heart race all the faster. It would be hard explaining this development to the family.
“I… Well, it’s… bloody hell, Ginevra!” He moaned as he dropped to his knees before her looking utterly lost.
“It’s okay, Draco. What do they expect putting two teenagers together in the middle of nowhere with nothing else to do?”
Draco looked slightly put out by this. “What do you mean? I didn’t kiss you because I was bored.”
“You didn’t?”
“No.”
“Why’d you kiss me then?” She cocked her head to the side and watched him carefully.
“Why’d you kiss me back? You bored?”
“No.”
“Well then?”
“You first.”
Draco sighed. He wasn’t prepared to share with her that he’d been watching her with great interest since she’d hit him with the bat bogey hex in his fifth year. Not that he’d realized that the great interest he was viewing her with was not hatred and loathing, but more like curiosity and the beginnings of respect. It was while he was on the run with Snape at the end of his sixth year that Draco started to reevaluate his priorities.
“We better get back to the house. Your mother is likely to send a search party.” Draco held out his hand and helped her up.
“So you’re not going to tell me why you kissed me?” She looked slightly disappointed, but not confused. He looked at her and smirked.
“Why should I? You know why I kissed you.”
They made it back to the house and peeled off most of their clothes in the front hallway. Molly fussed them both for being late and wet and dirty.
Cheerful despite the lecture, Ginny bounced up and kissed her mother’s cheek. “Sorry mum.”
Ginny grinned at Draco, “See you at dinner?” He blushed slightly and nodded once quickly. Molly, confused by their odd behavior, glared at the puddle of muddy water collecting on her clean floor.
“Ginny, get changed and then clean this mess up.”
“All right, mum.” She chuckled as she rushed off to change her clothes and clean up a bit.
“Sorry about the mud, Mrs. Weasley,” Draco mumbled as he gathered his discarded clothes and skirted around her without making eye contact.
Molly, hands on her hips and a bemused look on her face, watched the two youngest residents rush off in opposite directions. Odd, she thought, very odd.
“Draco?” She called as realization dawned on her, a broad smile replacing the thin line of concern. She watched as his blond head vanished down the stairs. “Where are my potatoes?”
The End.
LovesFantasy is the author of 2 other stories.
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This story is a favorite of 8 members. Members who liked Desert Rose also liked 1174 other stories.
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