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A/N – Not Quite Fate was getting all serious. I was feeling distinctly not serious. Here is the result.
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Definitely No Prank
“Weasley.”
She stopped and rolled her eyes at the sound of the slow drawl behind her, lazy and arrogant and unmistakable. Taking a deep breath, she hoisted her broom over her shoulder and turned around.
“What do you want, Malfoy?”
He stood leaning against the Quidditch stands, arms crossed and lips quirked just slightly in that secretly amused way of his. “I think I’ve made the answer to that particular question abundantly clear, don’t you?”
Ginny scowled, brushing back a strand of hair that had escaped during practice. “Look, if you’re just going to try and mess with me again, then you can…”
Draco pushed off the stands and strolled over, metallic eyes never leaving hers. “I can what, Weasley?”
She forced herself not to look at more of him than absolutely necessary. He came back from the summer hols for his final year just as he always had, only this time he’d left behind the trunk-full of styling gel, letting his hair fall free and soft and just a shade too long, and his scrawny body had developed into a well-muscled figure, broad of shoulder and slim of waist; even his face seemed less pointy now, only more…defined.
But, most notably, he’d returned with an apparent and wholly inexplicable interest in her. At least, that’s what he wanted her to believe. She was convinced it was some elaborate prank, or maybe a dare from one of his mates.
She shook away the distractions and recovered her annoyance. “Then you can shove off, that’s what. It’s getting old, Malfoy.”
“I quite agree.” He took a step forward, and she quickly retreated a step herself. He seemed not to notice. “It’s about time this little game ended.”
“Yes…” Ginny responded guardedly, eyeing him suspiciously. Now what was he up to?
He stepped forward again, and again, she stepped back. “Because this is getting rather annoying,” he went on. Another step forward, another back. “I’m a little impatient, you see.”
Another step, and Ginny’s back hit the broom shed. She swallowed. “I’m…glad you agree,” she finally managed.
He moved forward again, but this time she had nowhere to retreat. One of his palms flattened against the wall beside her head, his outstretched arm trapping her. He smiled his most heart-melting smile, and Ginny hated that it affected her as strongly as the rest of Hogwarts’ swooning female population. It figured, she mused bitterly, the prat could have any girl he wanted, but he had to target the one that wanted nothing to do with him.
Or at least, she told herself that was the case.
“On the contrary, I’m glad you agree,” he said, voice low and magnetic.
“What?” She couldn’t figure out why she whispered it.
His really very unfair smile reappeared, and his free hand came to rest lightly on her hip. She immediately slapped it away, but he only smirked and drew a little closer, though he did keep his hands to himself.
“You’ve been in denial for far too long,” he explained softly. “I think it’s well past time you admitted your feelings for me.”
She glared, catching on. “My Lord, how full of yourself can you get? My only feelings for you involve absolute repulsion!”
“Really now?” His hand rose to her hip again, but before she could smack it away, he leaned forward and caught her in a kiss.
She knew there was something she should be doing right now. Something very important, in fact. But his arm slid around her waist, pulling her closer, and his mouth never quite stopped encouraging her to join in, promising all sorts of fun if she did.
It wasn’t her first Malfoy-kiss. Unfortunately, the problem with him was that every kiss felt like the first, and she never could employ all of her carefully-laid plans in the event that one happened again. His kisses had this nasty tendency to make her forget.
When he finally pulled away, he did so slowly, lessening the pressure on her lips degree by unhurried degree so that it took her a few seconds to realize when the contact actually disappeared completely.
But then she did, and she brought up her knee as hard as she could. Draco cried out and collapsed to his knees, rocking back and forth and moaning with tears in the corners of his eyes.
“I warned you!” She propped her hands on her hips, completely unsympathetic to his pathetic state. “I told you that if you tried that one more time, you would seriously regret it, but did you listen?” She leaned down and snatched up her broom, which she’d apparently dropped at some point. “Honestly,” she muttered, stepping around him to walk away, “you wouldn’t think a stupid prank would be worth so much trouble.”
She’d only gotten a few steps when he rasped something behind her. Reluctantly, she stopped and turned back.
“What?”
He was still on his knees, bent over double so that at first she couldn’t see his face. Then he lifted it, and his eyes were hard, all traces of that charming smile quite vanished. “I said,” he growled, obviously speaking through clenched teeth, “that for the millionth time, it’s not a bloody prank.”
“For Merlin’s sake!” Ginny cried. “Would you just give it up? Either you must really, really hate me to go through all this just to embarrass me, or you’re just plain thick.” She pretended to consider a moment. “I’m going with choice number two. Not to underestimate your hate or anything, but…well…you do seem rather slow.”
With that she spun on her heel and stalked off, feeling rather proud of herself. He deserved every bit of what he got. Honestly, what kind of sadistic git would try so hard just to hurt someone else? This stupid battle — no, war — had been going on for months, and he was as persistent as ever. It was downright ridiculous.
The sound of footsteps thumping against the ground came up behind her.
“Weasley!”
She came to a halt, shaking her head in disbelief. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” she whispered to herself. How could he even move after that blow?
He jogged around to her front, and his face did indeed look pained, his features locked in an apparently permanent wince. “Look,” he gasped, “what’s it going to take?”
She crossed her arms. “What’s what going to take?”
“Convincing you!” He caught himself, taking a slow breath and running his hands through that gold-spun hair. She was a bit envious of his fingers before she realized what she was thinking and promptly stomped the thought out. “Look, I don’t know what else to do.”
For a second, she didn’t know how to answer that. He seemed sincerely distressed, and she almost felt a flicker of doubt. Luckily, she remembered who she was dealing with first. “How about what I’ve been telling you all along? Leave me alone.”
She started to push past him, but he grabbed her arm. She leveled a dangerous glare on him, and eyes going wide, he immediately dropped his hold, but before she could stalk off again he said, “You can’t tell me you’re not attracted to me.”
“Funny, I thought my actions said that loud and clear not a moment ago.” She took a menacing step forward. “Should I try again?”
To his credit, he didn’t back down, though she did see his adam’s apple bob in his throat. “You’ve never ended a kiss, not once,” he pointed out.
“It’s called being paralyzed by disgust,” she informed him haughtily, sticking her nose in the air.
His eyes narrowed then, and he stepped up close, murmuring, “Is that why you moan?” Ginny felt her face flush as he continued, “Is that why you always grab on to me for dear life, or why I always end up having to hold you up?”
“You’re lying,” she hissed.
A slow, triumphant grin spread over his face then, and to her dismay, she found it only made him more handsome — even as it irritated the hell out of her. “You don’t even realize it,” he wondered aloud, silvery eyes gleaming amusement. “You’re too oblivious to even notice how you react.”
She sputtered incoherently for a moment, but he cut her off, stepping even nearer until very little space remained between them. This time, Ginny wouldn’t back down.
“Malfoy…”
“Never fear, Weasley. I’m a nice bloke, so I’ll tell you.” He reached out a fingertip to stroke her cheek, one that she shoved roughly away. He didn’t flinch. “You always start out with a little gasp,” he began, voice soft. “Like you’re still as shocked as the first time I did it. Then you sort of lean into me, and have to hold on tight to something — my hair, shoulders, nearby railings, whatever’s handy.”
“I’m warning you, Malfoy — ”
He ignored her. “It’s never long before I feel you starting to slip, and I have to put my arms around you to hold you up, or push you against something to keep you from falling flat on that shapely little arse of yours.”
She pulled back her fist and swung, but he ducked the wild blow easily and kept talking as if nothing had happened.
“That’s when you start moaning, soft as a kitten’s purr,” he murmured, eyes burning hot into hers. “And once you even whispered my name. Not Malfoy, but Draco…and then you always hold on all the tighter...”
Somehow he’d gotten very, very close. When did that happen? She couldn’t focus on much of anything but those curious eyes, burning like molten steel, and his hypnotizing voice.
“And then,” he said, so softly she had to strain to hear, “I always, always stop…because I know if I didn’t, we would both regret what happened next.” He was silent a long moment, letting it all sink in, and then he said, “So I’ll say it again: you can’t tell me you’re not attracted to me.”
She stared into his eyes for a long, breathless moment, feeling every muscle tense. Then, finally, she whispered, “I hate you.”
Draco cursed harshly, whirling away from her. “Damn it, Weasley! Why the hell do you have to be so stubborn?”
“Because I know you!” she shouted back. “I know it’s all some game to you because everything’s a game to you! Well, so sorry, Malfoy, but I won’t let you play with my feelings! I’m not stupid, and I won’t let you pull me into whatever twisted little prank you’re so set on!”
He squeezed his eyes shut, nostrils flaring as he clearly fought for control. “Just tell me, Weasley. Ginny. Just tell me what I need to do to prove, once and for bloody all, that this is no prank.”
Ginny shook her head, about to storm off, when quite suddenly, a brilliant idea struck, one that would put a stop to this imbecilic game for good. She smiled slyly, enjoying the wary expression it elicited on Draco’s fine-featured face.
“You want to know what to do to prove you mean it?” she asked innocently.
He hesitated before slowly admitting, “That’s what I said.”
“Go tell the school you pledge your loyalty and support to Harry.”
He stared at her like she’d asked him to perform ballet in his underwear. “What?”
“Tell the school you pledge your support to Harry in the war against You-Know-Who,” she repeated slowly. “Oh, and that the Weasley’s have more class than the Malfoy’s ever will.”
He shook his head. “You’re mad if you think I’m going to do that.”
She nodded in satisfaction. “That’s what I thought.”
She was only a few steps away when Draco abruptly came up from behind, snatched her wrist in an iron grip, and started dragging her towards the castle.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Malfoy?!”
“I’m about to pledge my bloody support to Scarhead, apparently,” he answered icily, expression grim but determined. She had to jog to keep up with his long strides.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“But, but…” she stuttered frantically, suddenly panicked. He couldn’t be serious, could he?
But as he hauled her into the Entrance Hall and on through the double doors to the Great Hall, she knew that he was.
Standing with the doors at his back and the entire school assembled in front of him eating supper, Draco muttered a Sonorus spell and called out in a magically-magnified voice, “Oy! Everyone, listen up a minute!”
The whole room went still, looking to him with various expressions of confusion, interest, and annoyance. For his part, Draco looked at Ginny, eyes settling heavily on hers, and she found as her breath caught in her throat that she couldn’t look away.
Never shifting his gaze, never even blinking, Draco called out loudly, “I just want to announce that I…I pledge my support and…and my loyalty to…” for a moment it looked like he wouldn’t be able to say it, but just when she felt a relieved smile creep onto her lips, his resolve seemed to harden and he finished, “my support and loyalty to Potter. In the war against You-Know-Who.”
Collective gasps of surprise interspersed with roars of laughter exploded around the Hall, but Draco ignored them all. He only had eyes for Ginny.
He added belatedly, “Oh, and the Weasley’s have more class than the Malfoy’s ever will.”
To the sounds of whispers and shouts, laughter and guffaws, Draco ended the Sonorus spell and asked, “Good enough for you?”
She didn’t trust her voice to answer, so she just nodded instead.
He smiled — his heart-melting, knee-weakening, pulse-pounding smile — and then he bent down to kiss her. The Great Hall erupted in another round of stunned uproar, but neither of them paid any mind.
When Draco pulled away, Ginny realized with some disappointment she really didn’t remember what she did. Her only memory was of the rush, the feel and smell of him and all the sensory overload that was a Malfoy-kiss. Pity. She’d wanted to know if he’d been telling the truth about how she reacted.
Then a more immediate concern came to her attention.
“Umm…Draco, you better go.”
He stared at her incredulously. “All that, and you still want to get rid of me?”
“Well, it’s just that I’m a bit afraid for you.”
He gave her a puzzled look, then following to where she pointed, noticed a very tall and very red-faced Ronald Weasley storming up the steps at an alarming rate, an equally infuriated Harry close on his heels.
Draco nodded, already edging away. “Later,” he promised her, then with one last swift kiss, he turned and ran through the doors.
Ginny smiled, lifting her fingers to her lips as her brother and Harry pushed past her screaming threats.
Well, she thought a little giddily, it was definitely no prank.
- - - - -
A/N – this one was just purely for fun. Written in a sitting with only one round of editing, and certainly not meant to be taken too seriously or examined too closely.
Oh, and it is a one-shot. I.e., that’s all folks! Sorry!
- - - - -
“Weasley.”
She stopped and rolled her eyes at the sound of the slow drawl behind her, lazy and arrogant and unmistakable. Taking a deep breath, she hoisted her broom over her shoulder and turned around.
“What do you want, Malfoy?”
He stood leaning against the Quidditch stands, arms crossed and lips quirked just slightly in that secretly amused way of his. “I think I’ve made the answer to that particular question abundantly clear, don’t you?”
Ginny scowled, brushing back a strand of hair that had escaped during practice. “Look, if you’re just going to try and mess with me again, then you can…”
Draco pushed off the stands and strolled over, metallic eyes never leaving hers. “I can what, Weasley?”
She forced herself not to look at more of him than absolutely necessary. He came back from the summer hols for his final year just as he always had, only this time he’d left behind the trunk-full of styling gel, letting his hair fall free and soft and just a shade too long, and his scrawny body had developed into a well-muscled figure, broad of shoulder and slim of waist; even his face seemed less pointy now, only more…defined.
But, most notably, he’d returned with an apparent and wholly inexplicable interest in her. At least, that’s what he wanted her to believe. She was convinced it was some elaborate prank, or maybe a dare from one of his mates.
She shook away the distractions and recovered her annoyance. “Then you can shove off, that’s what. It’s getting old, Malfoy.”
“I quite agree.” He took a step forward, and she quickly retreated a step herself. He seemed not to notice. “It’s about time this little game ended.”
“Yes…” Ginny responded guardedly, eyeing him suspiciously. Now what was he up to?
He stepped forward again, and again, she stepped back. “Because this is getting rather annoying,” he went on. Another step forward, another back. “I’m a little impatient, you see.”
Another step, and Ginny’s back hit the broom shed. She swallowed. “I’m…glad you agree,” she finally managed.
He moved forward again, but this time she had nowhere to retreat. One of his palms flattened against the wall beside her head, his outstretched arm trapping her. He smiled his most heart-melting smile, and Ginny hated that it affected her as strongly as the rest of Hogwarts’ swooning female population. It figured, she mused bitterly, the prat could have any girl he wanted, but he had to target the one that wanted nothing to do with him.
Or at least, she told herself that was the case.
“On the contrary, I’m glad you agree,” he said, voice low and magnetic.
“What?” She couldn’t figure out why she whispered it.
His really very unfair smile reappeared, and his free hand came to rest lightly on her hip. She immediately slapped it away, but he only smirked and drew a little closer, though he did keep his hands to himself.
“You’ve been in denial for far too long,” he explained softly. “I think it’s well past time you admitted your feelings for me.”
She glared, catching on. “My Lord, how full of yourself can you get? My only feelings for you involve absolute repulsion!”
“Really now?” His hand rose to her hip again, but before she could smack it away, he leaned forward and caught her in a kiss.
She knew there was something she should be doing right now. Something very important, in fact. But his arm slid around her waist, pulling her closer, and his mouth never quite stopped encouraging her to join in, promising all sorts of fun if she did.
It wasn’t her first Malfoy-kiss. Unfortunately, the problem with him was that every kiss felt like the first, and she never could employ all of her carefully-laid plans in the event that one happened again. His kisses had this nasty tendency to make her forget.
When he finally pulled away, he did so slowly, lessening the pressure on her lips degree by unhurried degree so that it took her a few seconds to realize when the contact actually disappeared completely.
But then she did, and she brought up her knee as hard as she could. Draco cried out and collapsed to his knees, rocking back and forth and moaning with tears in the corners of his eyes.
“I warned you!” She propped her hands on her hips, completely unsympathetic to his pathetic state. “I told you that if you tried that one more time, you would seriously regret it, but did you listen?” She leaned down and snatched up her broom, which she’d apparently dropped at some point. “Honestly,” she muttered, stepping around him to walk away, “you wouldn’t think a stupid prank would be worth so much trouble.”
She’d only gotten a few steps when he rasped something behind her. Reluctantly, she stopped and turned back.
“What?”
He was still on his knees, bent over double so that at first she couldn’t see his face. Then he lifted it, and his eyes were hard, all traces of that charming smile quite vanished. “I said,” he growled, obviously speaking through clenched teeth, “that for the millionth time, it’s not a bloody prank.”
“For Merlin’s sake!” Ginny cried. “Would you just give it up? Either you must really, really hate me to go through all this just to embarrass me, or you’re just plain thick.” She pretended to consider a moment. “I’m going with choice number two. Not to underestimate your hate or anything, but…well…you do seem rather slow.”
With that she spun on her heel and stalked off, feeling rather proud of herself. He deserved every bit of what he got. Honestly, what kind of sadistic git would try so hard just to hurt someone else? This stupid battle — no, war — had been going on for months, and he was as persistent as ever. It was downright ridiculous.
The sound of footsteps thumping against the ground came up behind her.
“Weasley!”
She came to a halt, shaking her head in disbelief. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” she whispered to herself. How could he even move after that blow?
He jogged around to her front, and his face did indeed look pained, his features locked in an apparently permanent wince. “Look,” he gasped, “what’s it going to take?”
She crossed her arms. “What’s what going to take?”
“Convincing you!” He caught himself, taking a slow breath and running his hands through that gold-spun hair. She was a bit envious of his fingers before she realized what she was thinking and promptly stomped the thought out. “Look, I don’t know what else to do.”
For a second, she didn’t know how to answer that. He seemed sincerely distressed, and she almost felt a flicker of doubt. Luckily, she remembered who she was dealing with first. “How about what I’ve been telling you all along? Leave me alone.”
She started to push past him, but he grabbed her arm. She leveled a dangerous glare on him, and eyes going wide, he immediately dropped his hold, but before she could stalk off again he said, “You can’t tell me you’re not attracted to me.”
“Funny, I thought my actions said that loud and clear not a moment ago.” She took a menacing step forward. “Should I try again?”
To his credit, he didn’t back down, though she did see his adam’s apple bob in his throat. “You’ve never ended a kiss, not once,” he pointed out.
“It’s called being paralyzed by disgust,” she informed him haughtily, sticking her nose in the air.
His eyes narrowed then, and he stepped up close, murmuring, “Is that why you moan?” Ginny felt her face flush as he continued, “Is that why you always grab on to me for dear life, or why I always end up having to hold you up?”
“You’re lying,” she hissed.
A slow, triumphant grin spread over his face then, and to her dismay, she found it only made him more handsome — even as it irritated the hell out of her. “You don’t even realize it,” he wondered aloud, silvery eyes gleaming amusement. “You’re too oblivious to even notice how you react.”
She sputtered incoherently for a moment, but he cut her off, stepping even nearer until very little space remained between them. This time, Ginny wouldn’t back down.
“Malfoy…”
“Never fear, Weasley. I’m a nice bloke, so I’ll tell you.” He reached out a fingertip to stroke her cheek, one that she shoved roughly away. He didn’t flinch. “You always start out with a little gasp,” he began, voice soft. “Like you’re still as shocked as the first time I did it. Then you sort of lean into me, and have to hold on tight to something — my hair, shoulders, nearby railings, whatever’s handy.”
“I’m warning you, Malfoy — ”
He ignored her. “It’s never long before I feel you starting to slip, and I have to put my arms around you to hold you up, or push you against something to keep you from falling flat on that shapely little arse of yours.”
She pulled back her fist and swung, but he ducked the wild blow easily and kept talking as if nothing had happened.
“That’s when you start moaning, soft as a kitten’s purr,” he murmured, eyes burning hot into hers. “And once you even whispered my name. Not Malfoy, but Draco…and then you always hold on all the tighter...”
Somehow he’d gotten very, very close. When did that happen? She couldn’t focus on much of anything but those curious eyes, burning like molten steel, and his hypnotizing voice.
“And then,” he said, so softly she had to strain to hear, “I always, always stop…because I know if I didn’t, we would both regret what happened next.” He was silent a long moment, letting it all sink in, and then he said, “So I’ll say it again: you can’t tell me you’re not attracted to me.”
She stared into his eyes for a long, breathless moment, feeling every muscle tense. Then, finally, she whispered, “I hate you.”
Draco cursed harshly, whirling away from her. “Damn it, Weasley! Why the hell do you have to be so stubborn?”
“Because I know you!” she shouted back. “I know it’s all some game to you because everything’s a game to you! Well, so sorry, Malfoy, but I won’t let you play with my feelings! I’m not stupid, and I won’t let you pull me into whatever twisted little prank you’re so set on!”
He squeezed his eyes shut, nostrils flaring as he clearly fought for control. “Just tell me, Weasley. Ginny. Just tell me what I need to do to prove, once and for bloody all, that this is no prank.”
Ginny shook her head, about to storm off, when quite suddenly, a brilliant idea struck, one that would put a stop to this imbecilic game for good. She smiled slyly, enjoying the wary expression it elicited on Draco’s fine-featured face.
“You want to know what to do to prove you mean it?” she asked innocently.
He hesitated before slowly admitting, “That’s what I said.”
“Go tell the school you pledge your loyalty and support to Harry.”
He stared at her like she’d asked him to perform ballet in his underwear. “What?”
“Tell the school you pledge your support to Harry in the war against You-Know-Who,” she repeated slowly. “Oh, and that the Weasley’s have more class than the Malfoy’s ever will.”
He shook his head. “You’re mad if you think I’m going to do that.”
She nodded in satisfaction. “That’s what I thought.”
She was only a few steps away when Draco abruptly came up from behind, snatched her wrist in an iron grip, and started dragging her towards the castle.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Malfoy?!”
“I’m about to pledge my bloody support to Scarhead, apparently,” he answered icily, expression grim but determined. She had to jog to keep up with his long strides.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“But, but…” she stuttered frantically, suddenly panicked. He couldn’t be serious, could he?
But as he hauled her into the Entrance Hall and on through the double doors to the Great Hall, she knew that he was.
Standing with the doors at his back and the entire school assembled in front of him eating supper, Draco muttered a Sonorus spell and called out in a magically-magnified voice, “Oy! Everyone, listen up a minute!”
The whole room went still, looking to him with various expressions of confusion, interest, and annoyance. For his part, Draco looked at Ginny, eyes settling heavily on hers, and she found as her breath caught in her throat that she couldn’t look away.
Never shifting his gaze, never even blinking, Draco called out loudly, “I just want to announce that I…I pledge my support and…and my loyalty to…” for a moment it looked like he wouldn’t be able to say it, but just when she felt a relieved smile creep onto her lips, his resolve seemed to harden and he finished, “my support and loyalty to Potter. In the war against You-Know-Who.”
Collective gasps of surprise interspersed with roars of laughter exploded around the Hall, but Draco ignored them all. He only had eyes for Ginny.
He added belatedly, “Oh, and the Weasley’s have more class than the Malfoy’s ever will.”
To the sounds of whispers and shouts, laughter and guffaws, Draco ended the Sonorus spell and asked, “Good enough for you?”
She didn’t trust her voice to answer, so she just nodded instead.
He smiled — his heart-melting, knee-weakening, pulse-pounding smile — and then he bent down to kiss her. The Great Hall erupted in another round of stunned uproar, but neither of them paid any mind.
When Draco pulled away, Ginny realized with some disappointment she really didn’t remember what she did. Her only memory was of the rush, the feel and smell of him and all the sensory overload that was a Malfoy-kiss. Pity. She’d wanted to know if he’d been telling the truth about how she reacted.
Then a more immediate concern came to her attention.
“Umm…Draco, you better go.”
He stared at her incredulously. “All that, and you still want to get rid of me?”
“Well, it’s just that I’m a bit afraid for you.”
He gave her a puzzled look, then following to where she pointed, noticed a very tall and very red-faced Ronald Weasley storming up the steps at an alarming rate, an equally infuriated Harry close on his heels.
Draco nodded, already edging away. “Later,” he promised her, then with one last swift kiss, he turned and ran through the doors.
Ginny smiled, lifting her fingers to her lips as her brother and Harry pushed past her screaming threats.
Well, she thought a little giddily, it was definitely no prank.
- - - - -
A/N – this one was just purely for fun. Written in a sitting with only one round of editing, and certainly not meant to be taken too seriously or examined too closely.
Oh, and it is a one-shot. I.e., that’s all folks! Sorry!
The End.
Hearts Cadence is the author of 15 other stories.
This story is a favorite of 54 members. Members who liked Definitely No Prank also liked 1472 other stories.
This story is a favorite of 54 members. Members who liked Definitely No Prank also liked 1472 other stories.
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