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She remembered it pretty well, that time he'd left for a short business trip—though she hadn't really wanted to remember, considering that he was kind of an asshole.
He'd stood at the doorway to her apartment, shifting idly, hands deep in his pockets as he regarded her.
He shrugged lightly, his voice an unconcerned drawl as he spoke. "I leave tonight, Weasley. I should be back in a month or so." He looked away, pulled out a cigarette, lit it.
"I really need to leave now," he added, looking up at her through the haze of smoke. "Need to get stuff packed...some last minute things."
"Right," she said, smiling. "I know what it's like—I pack totally last-minute, too."
"Don't compare yourself with me, Weasley." He gave a little smirk, but it was half-hearted. "Anyway, not enough time for a real chinwag, so that'll be another time. I'll, uh, be back in a month or so—" he looked thoughtfully at the orange spark of his cigarette as he drew in another smoke—"and I'll drop in to let you know, when I'm back, all right?"
She rolled her eyes. "Gee, thanks so much. Get going then, Malfoy, I'll be glad to get you off my case for a bit."
He snorted delicately, and threw down the cigarette, crushing it beneath his shoe. He tipped his hat at her, making her giggle slightly, and then turned and walked away.
"Good riddance!" she called after him. "Take your time coming back, you arse!"
He appeared to ignore her, though she saw his cheek lift slightly as he strode away, as though he was smirking.
Ginny Weasley hadn't really predicted that Draco Malfoy, the biggest jerk she'd met in her life—with his stupid pretty hair and pointed little features, tall and rather toned body in spite of it all—would regularly visit the department she worked in at the Ministry. She hadn't predicted, either, that they'd have little conversations in the elevator, that he'd buy her coffee sometimes, that he'd pop in her cubicle for a smart-arse little word, until she had to almost chase him out whacking his head with her ruler.
Well, all right. All right, she thought irritably two days after he'd left for his stupid trip. Okay, dammit, they'd become friends of sorts. He made work interesting—if arguing endlessly and proving to herself that she needed anger management courses could be termed as interesting—and then he'd started buying her dinner sometimes, dropping into her apartment for a quick conversation about the Quidditch scores or to bitch about the Minister.
It was nothing, she thought now. Just a bit of mindless fun. It really meant nothing to her, just a stupid sort of routine she'd become used to, seeing that prick nearly everyday for endless periods of time. So it was natural that she'd come to tolerate him gracefully, maybe even enjoy his company.
Then why did she miss him? It was ridiculous. She had way better friends, friends that were much nicer people. For God's sake, he was just Draco bloody Malfoy, The Definition of Prat. Why the hell did she miss talking to him so much? Why did she wake up every day looking forward to seeing him at work, looking into those piercing gray eyes, tingling a little bit at that devilish smirk, fantasizing about that silky blond hair of his?
Come ON! Why did she have to dream about his freaking body?
And most of all: why did she feel the most insane urge to do something in between of laughing and crying when she got his short, supremely annoying little letter? Merlin's soggy socks, all he'd said was:
Weasley
I saw this totally cuckoo tomato-haired woman this morning feeding her insane pigeons outside my door, and I thought of you. Decided I'd send in a word or two. How goes life, then, love?
I do hope they pass in letters at mental wards in St Mungo's. Wouldn't want you to feel completely abandoned.
Cheers
Draco Malfoy
And like she was totally nutters, she'd clutched the later, and flung it across the room, laughing madly, and then she'd put her head down on the sofa and just cried. Cried. With tears and everything. Tears from her bloody eyes, for Merlin's sakes.
She had to be losing it. Like, completely. More than his stupid insane pigeon lady.
She found herself missing his snarky little jokes, that superior smirk of his, the way his eyes shone glinting silver in the sun, and the way he tugged playfully at her hair.
It was totally crazy, but the fact was...Ginny Weasley missed Draco Malfoy, and there seemed to be nothing to do about it but await his return with an unhealthy amount of eagerness...the only other option was to kill herself.
Oh, well, she thought now. The prick's coming back tomorrow. I'll see him tomorrow, he'll come.
She sat down and made herself a mug of steaming coffee, seriously debating putting an end to herself - it was definitely a better prospect than sitting here, hoping she'd see him the next day.
X
"For Merlin's sake!" she yelled crankily at a sharp knock on the door, assuming it was her crazy neighbor, the one that made those foul toenail cookies, "Didn't I tell you I don't want your bloody biscuits?"
There was a pause, when a flush started to heat Ginny's skin, and she considered burying herself under her rugs for the rest of eternity, and a wry, deep voice said, "Really, Weasley? Not even if I had chocolate chips?"
She sighed, trying to ignore the tumult of emotion in her chest and the sudden burning in her eyes—she'd have to open the door for the prick, it seemed.
She did so, and found him there, in a wrinkled white shirt looking slightly disheveled, his hair in admirable disarray. His cool gray eyes appraised her, gleaming slightly.
She wondered miserably when she'd started to think he was gorgeous. Now that she thought of it, it was probably since the day she'd dreamt of him naked. Or maybe since that first time she'd seen him in the Ministry elevator, all groomed and sexy, with that cocky little smirk.
Draco raised an elegant eyebrow. "Going to just gawk at me all evening, are you?"
"You're back," she said unnecessarily, blushing.
"No, Weasley. I died tragically in a car crash, and this is my unbroken spirit that flew to London now attempting to exchange pleasantries with you."
She rolled her eyes. "Come on in, then, you prick."
"Wow, thank you, Weasley. Stepping into your humble abode, now that's what I call an honor."
"How was your trip?"
"Fine." He stood there stiffly, hands in his pockets, eyes calmly and yet intensely beholding her.
"When did you get back?"
"Around five minutes ago. Might've been six, though."
"You came here first thing?" Her eyes were wide.
"I'd say so."
She wondered desperately why it felt so strange. This was Draco Malfoy, for Merlin's sakes, her somewhat-friend, an annoying moron. Why was she tingling all over from seeing him, why did she suddenly feel like screaming and crying—why did she feel like pouncing on him and hugging him tightly to her? Why was this so awkward?
"Have you had dinner?" His voice was almost curt, tense.
"No, I...I just got back from work. And hey," she added a nervous laugh, "I guess you must be pretty hungry, too, right?"
"I'll survive."
He stared at her, at her pale face and her shining brown eyes, the curling strand of red hair over her brow. Damn it, it was wonderful seeing her again. He resisted the urge to pull out another cigarette; the urge to touch her face. She was Ginevra Weasley, and he had no business to hang around her thinking of her like this. She meant too much, for him to mess things up.
Time for him to go.
"Well, I'll be off then," he said crisply, shoving his hands in his pockets. "See you tomorrow, Weasley."
He turned to her door, while she stared helplessly at his retreating back, and then finally she said, stopping him in his tracks, "I missed you."
Heart pounding, he glanced back at her, his eyes piercing. "That's a very good thing," he said carefully.
"I'm glad you're back."
"So am I."
She took a step toward him, and saw the sudden surprise and uncertainty flash into his beautiful gray eyes. "I thought about you a lot."
"I thought about you nearly all the time."
"Your letter made me so happy."
"I wanted to send a hundred more."
He gazed at her for a moment, his mouth dry. "Ginny...I should probably...I—"
"Shut up," she snapped thickly, and he was surprised to see her red nose, her streaming eyes. "I'm having a moment here, all right?"
"What moment?" he asked warily.
"Well, it's supposed to be pretty damn wonderful, you know, that moment you realize you're in love and all that. A girl's dream and fantasy, and all that shit. But it sucks to realize you're in love with a jerk, an arrogant asshole who you thought you didn't give a rat's arse about." She gave her face a vicious swipe, scowling at the rug. "It's like thinking you want a walnut, or raisins, but finding out that you've got yourself a perfectly wonderful date and it's what you've wanted all along. Although," she babbled pathetically, still glaring at the ground, "I never did like raisins that much..."
He moved to her so quickly she gasped, looking up at him in surprise, and his face was fierce and humored at the same time. "Well, look at my fate, then," he said, caressing her cheek with a long, pale finger. "I've gone and fallen for an insane wench that talks about bloody raisins in between a confession of love."
"Don't call me a wench."
"Ginevra," he whispered.
"Oh, all right," she conceded sulkily, glaring up at him through glittering chocolate eyes. "Maybe it won't be too bad, being in love with you and all that."
"Maybe we should give it a trial run."
"Maybe we should. Dates are yummy, after all."
She gave into her desires, and threw her arms around his neck. With a little grunt, he lifted her up so he could reach her lips easily, so her toes danced above the ground, and she felt like she was flying when he crushed his lips to hers.
Draco Malfoy was a pretty damn amazing kisser. And his pretty hair felt great when her fingers were running through them. His eyes were molten gray when he opened them to look into hers with a mixture of dazzlement and awe.
And that Weasley wench sure knew how to get his knees trembling for her.
When they broke apart, and he set her gently on the ground again.
"What do you think?" he asked her huskily, a glint in those stormy gray eyes.
"Oh, I don't know," she murmured, a playful smile pulling up the corners of those delicious, slightly swollen lips. "Maybe we should give it another go, just to make sure."
And this time he simply gathered her in his arms and carried her into her apartment. They decided they'd make the trial run very thorough—just to make sure, of course.
After all, if distance had made their hearts grow fonder, they could put distance off the list for now and enjoy the fondness for a bit.
He'd stood at the doorway to her apartment, shifting idly, hands deep in his pockets as he regarded her.
He shrugged lightly, his voice an unconcerned drawl as he spoke. "I leave tonight, Weasley. I should be back in a month or so." He looked away, pulled out a cigarette, lit it.
"I really need to leave now," he added, looking up at her through the haze of smoke. "Need to get stuff packed...some last minute things."
"Right," she said, smiling. "I know what it's like—I pack totally last-minute, too."
"Don't compare yourself with me, Weasley." He gave a little smirk, but it was half-hearted. "Anyway, not enough time for a real chinwag, so that'll be another time. I'll, uh, be back in a month or so—" he looked thoughtfully at the orange spark of his cigarette as he drew in another smoke—"and I'll drop in to let you know, when I'm back, all right?"
She rolled her eyes. "Gee, thanks so much. Get going then, Malfoy, I'll be glad to get you off my case for a bit."
He snorted delicately, and threw down the cigarette, crushing it beneath his shoe. He tipped his hat at her, making her giggle slightly, and then turned and walked away.
"Good riddance!" she called after him. "Take your time coming back, you arse!"
He appeared to ignore her, though she saw his cheek lift slightly as he strode away, as though he was smirking.
Ginny Weasley hadn't really predicted that Draco Malfoy, the biggest jerk she'd met in her life—with his stupid pretty hair and pointed little features, tall and rather toned body in spite of it all—would regularly visit the department she worked in at the Ministry. She hadn't predicted, either, that they'd have little conversations in the elevator, that he'd buy her coffee sometimes, that he'd pop in her cubicle for a smart-arse little word, until she had to almost chase him out whacking his head with her ruler.
Well, all right. All right, she thought irritably two days after he'd left for his stupid trip. Okay, dammit, they'd become friends of sorts. He made work interesting—if arguing endlessly and proving to herself that she needed anger management courses could be termed as interesting—and then he'd started buying her dinner sometimes, dropping into her apartment for a quick conversation about the Quidditch scores or to bitch about the Minister.
It was nothing, she thought now. Just a bit of mindless fun. It really meant nothing to her, just a stupid sort of routine she'd become used to, seeing that prick nearly everyday for endless periods of time. So it was natural that she'd come to tolerate him gracefully, maybe even enjoy his company.
Then why did she miss him? It was ridiculous. She had way better friends, friends that were much nicer people. For God's sake, he was just Draco bloody Malfoy, The Definition of Prat. Why the hell did she miss talking to him so much? Why did she wake up every day looking forward to seeing him at work, looking into those piercing gray eyes, tingling a little bit at that devilish smirk, fantasizing about that silky blond hair of his?
Come ON! Why did she have to dream about his freaking body?
And most of all: why did she feel the most insane urge to do something in between of laughing and crying when she got his short, supremely annoying little letter? Merlin's soggy socks, all he'd said was:
Weasley
I saw this totally cuckoo tomato-haired woman this morning feeding her insane pigeons outside my door, and I thought of you. Decided I'd send in a word or two. How goes life, then, love?
I do hope they pass in letters at mental wards in St Mungo's. Wouldn't want you to feel completely abandoned.
Cheers
Draco Malfoy
And like she was totally nutters, she'd clutched the later, and flung it across the room, laughing madly, and then she'd put her head down on the sofa and just cried. Cried. With tears and everything. Tears from her bloody eyes, for Merlin's sakes.
She had to be losing it. Like, completely. More than his stupid insane pigeon lady.
She found herself missing his snarky little jokes, that superior smirk of his, the way his eyes shone glinting silver in the sun, and the way he tugged playfully at her hair.
It was totally crazy, but the fact was...Ginny Weasley missed Draco Malfoy, and there seemed to be nothing to do about it but await his return with an unhealthy amount of eagerness...the only other option was to kill herself.
Oh, well, she thought now. The prick's coming back tomorrow. I'll see him tomorrow, he'll come.
She sat down and made herself a mug of steaming coffee, seriously debating putting an end to herself - it was definitely a better prospect than sitting here, hoping she'd see him the next day.
"For Merlin's sake!" she yelled crankily at a sharp knock on the door, assuming it was her crazy neighbor, the one that made those foul toenail cookies, "Didn't I tell you I don't want your bloody biscuits?"
There was a pause, when a flush started to heat Ginny's skin, and she considered burying herself under her rugs for the rest of eternity, and a wry, deep voice said, "Really, Weasley? Not even if I had chocolate chips?"
She sighed, trying to ignore the tumult of emotion in her chest and the sudden burning in her eyes—she'd have to open the door for the prick, it seemed.
She did so, and found him there, in a wrinkled white shirt looking slightly disheveled, his hair in admirable disarray. His cool gray eyes appraised her, gleaming slightly.
She wondered miserably when she'd started to think he was gorgeous. Now that she thought of it, it was probably since the day she'd dreamt of him naked. Or maybe since that first time she'd seen him in the Ministry elevator, all groomed and sexy, with that cocky little smirk.
Draco raised an elegant eyebrow. "Going to just gawk at me all evening, are you?"
"You're back," she said unnecessarily, blushing.
"No, Weasley. I died tragically in a car crash, and this is my unbroken spirit that flew to London now attempting to exchange pleasantries with you."
She rolled her eyes. "Come on in, then, you prick."
"Wow, thank you, Weasley. Stepping into your humble abode, now that's what I call an honor."
"How was your trip?"
"Fine." He stood there stiffly, hands in his pockets, eyes calmly and yet intensely beholding her.
"When did you get back?"
"Around five minutes ago. Might've been six, though."
"You came here first thing?" Her eyes were wide.
"I'd say so."
She wondered desperately why it felt so strange. This was Draco Malfoy, for Merlin's sakes, her somewhat-friend, an annoying moron. Why was she tingling all over from seeing him, why did she suddenly feel like screaming and crying—why did she feel like pouncing on him and hugging him tightly to her? Why was this so awkward?
"Have you had dinner?" His voice was almost curt, tense.
"No, I...I just got back from work. And hey," she added a nervous laugh, "I guess you must be pretty hungry, too, right?"
"I'll survive."
He stared at her, at her pale face and her shining brown eyes, the curling strand of red hair over her brow. Damn it, it was wonderful seeing her again. He resisted the urge to pull out another cigarette; the urge to touch her face. She was Ginevra Weasley, and he had no business to hang around her thinking of her like this. She meant too much, for him to mess things up.
Time for him to go.
"Well, I'll be off then," he said crisply, shoving his hands in his pockets. "See you tomorrow, Weasley."
He turned to her door, while she stared helplessly at his retreating back, and then finally she said, stopping him in his tracks, "I missed you."
Heart pounding, he glanced back at her, his eyes piercing. "That's a very good thing," he said carefully.
"I'm glad you're back."
"So am I."
She took a step toward him, and saw the sudden surprise and uncertainty flash into his beautiful gray eyes. "I thought about you a lot."
"I thought about you nearly all the time."
"Your letter made me so happy."
"I wanted to send a hundred more."
He gazed at her for a moment, his mouth dry. "Ginny...I should probably...I—"
"Shut up," she snapped thickly, and he was surprised to see her red nose, her streaming eyes. "I'm having a moment here, all right?"
"What moment?" he asked warily.
"Well, it's supposed to be pretty damn wonderful, you know, that moment you realize you're in love and all that. A girl's dream and fantasy, and all that shit. But it sucks to realize you're in love with a jerk, an arrogant asshole who you thought you didn't give a rat's arse about." She gave her face a vicious swipe, scowling at the rug. "It's like thinking you want a walnut, or raisins, but finding out that you've got yourself a perfectly wonderful date and it's what you've wanted all along. Although," she babbled pathetically, still glaring at the ground, "I never did like raisins that much..."
He moved to her so quickly she gasped, looking up at him in surprise, and his face was fierce and humored at the same time. "Well, look at my fate, then," he said, caressing her cheek with a long, pale finger. "I've gone and fallen for an insane wench that talks about bloody raisins in between a confession of love."
"Don't call me a wench."
"Ginevra," he whispered.
"Oh, all right," she conceded sulkily, glaring up at him through glittering chocolate eyes. "Maybe it won't be too bad, being in love with you and all that."
"Maybe we should give it a trial run."
"Maybe we should. Dates are yummy, after all."
She gave into her desires, and threw her arms around his neck. With a little grunt, he lifted her up so he could reach her lips easily, so her toes danced above the ground, and she felt like she was flying when he crushed his lips to hers.
Draco Malfoy was a pretty damn amazing kisser. And his pretty hair felt great when her fingers were running through them. His eyes were molten gray when he opened them to look into hers with a mixture of dazzlement and awe.
And that Weasley wench sure knew how to get his knees trembling for her.
When they broke apart, and he set her gently on the ground again.
"What do you think?" he asked her huskily, a glint in those stormy gray eyes.
"Oh, I don't know," she murmured, a playful smile pulling up the corners of those delicious, slightly swollen lips. "Maybe we should give it another go, just to make sure."
And this time he simply gathered her in his arms and carried her into her apartment. They decided they'd make the trial run very thorough—just to make sure, of course.
After all, if distance had made their hearts grow fonder, they could put distance off the list for now and enjoy the fondness for a bit.
To Be Continued.
starlit skyes is the author of 5 other stories.
This story is a favorite of 4 members. Members who liked No Added Sugar also liked 1137 other stories.
This story is a favorite of 4 members. Members who liked No Added Sugar also liked 1137 other stories.
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