When Ginny entered the pitch for her fourth match of the new season, she was feeling confident. The weather was perfect for early May, the air was clear and the crowd was loud and enthusiastic.
By the end of the match, she was feeling broken and defeated, along with the rest of her team. It had been the most horrible game in her memory. She'd been pounded by the bludger three times, once nearly knocking her from her broom. Her shoulder was still feeling tender and, no doubt, the bruising was going to continue to nag her for the next few days.
After accepting defeat with the rest of her team, she flew in the direction of the center stands and scanned the departing crowd, looking for the familiar flash of red hair among the spectators. Ron had been attending every match since the beginning of the season, and she'd become fond of meeting up with him after the game. Granted, he was usually there with Malfoy, but she'd learned to accept the blond's presence, and had even come to enjoy his company, despite her previous reservations.
It had become familiar habit for her to glance into the stands to see the pair, usually in the center of the pitch, cheering her on, even during the pre-season practice matches. The bright red hair of her brother alongside his blond friend, standing out like a beacon among the crowds. It warmed her heart to know she had such dedicated fans.
This time, however, as she scanned the crowd, there was no flash of bright ginger next to the standout platinum blond in the center box. The crowds were clearing and she assumed he'd return shortly, giving a quick wave to the blond, she started signing a few autographs for fans.
Again, when she looked over, she only saw Malfoy waving back, but she flew toward him anyway, because, well, he was rather difficult to ignore. She greeted him politely, smiling and waving at other fans in the box. “You know, Malfoy, I'm going to tell Daphne that you're turning into a Harpies fan if you keep coming to my matches.”
“Falcons fan forever, Weasley,” he replied smartly. “I'm just here because your brother gave me his ticket.”
She frowned. “Ron's not here?”
“He's up in Hogsmeade.”
For a moment, Ginny felt deep disappointment. Having just lost a match, she had been hoping that spending some time with her brother would lift her spirits. Then, she deduced what Malfoy meant by that statement, and she couldn't help but give a devilish grin. “Is he meeting with Astoria?”
Malfoy's lips lifted, echoing her smile. “It's one of the last Hogsmeade weekends before she begins her NEWTs. When she invited him up, I sort of encouraged him to go.”
“Well, at least there's some cause for celebration,” she said. “Unfortunately, I was hoping he could take me to dinner, so I could forget about losing today.”
“It wasn't your fault,” he said. “They missed calling at least three fouls on you, and two on your Seeker. I think that would have made a difference.”
She shrugged, not really in the mood to make excuses. “Thank you, I suppose.”
Malfoy shuffled, seeming uncharacteristically uncomfortable. “I'd be happy to take you to dinner.”
“No need to feel obligated, Malfoy. I'm a big girl.”
“You know, we've been civil to each other long enough. Do you think you could call me Draco?”
The request was simple, but she really hadn't ever considered calling him by his first name. For the longest time, she mostly thought of him as the “Git”. Graduating to calling him by his surname had been an accomplishment. Referring to him by his first name seemed a bit unnatural. “I suppose,” she responded reluctantly.
“Good, then,” he said awkwardly. “I guess I'll pick you up at the front gate after you change.”
She frowned, uncertain about whether or not she'd actually agreed on going to dinner with him. True, he'd joined her and Ron once or twice, when they'd gone out after some of the previous matches, but this was different. She opened her mouth to protest, but he was already moving toward the exit and a small girl was looking up at her eagerly, waving a piece of parchment for her autograph, effectively preventing Ginny from calling out after him.
Since Ron wasn't there, Ginny deduced that his friend was simply being courteous. It had become one of those constants in the universe, where, after a game, she went out to dinner with her brother and his friend. It just so happened that her brother wasn't going to be there this time.
She wandered off to the locker room, feeling more than a bit confused. She'd never spent any time alone with Malfoy, except for the few minutes on New Year's Day. She had no idea what she was going to talk about with the prat.
In fact, she quickly came to the conclusion that she would just meet him at the gate and give him a polite, “No, thank you.” But, one of her teammates had seen her talking with the blond and had inquired about him when Ginny entered the showers. Unfortunately, Ginny made the mistake of mentioning that he'd asked her to dinner. By the time Ginny finished her shower and wrapped herself in a towel, the entire team had been informed, and Ginny was subjected to raucous encouragement, catcalls, and an endless list of romantic restaurants.
“It is NOT a date!” Ginny emphatically explained.
“Sure, it's not,” at least three responded mockingly in unison.
It was impossible to cancel the “date” at that point. She'd been shamed by her teammates so that backing out was not an option. If anything, ribbing Ginny had put the team in good spirits after their loss so, in the interest of team spirit, Ginny decided to go through with it.
x - x - x
As she and Malfoy walked into a quiet establishment, Ginny was struck by an uneasy feeling. When she went out with Ron, they typically chose a much less intimate sports-themed pub.
Before she could voice any dissent, he spoke, “I thought that the usual sports pubs might be a bit difficult, since your team lost today. I hope you don't mind. The food here is excellent.”
Suspicious, she asked, “Do you take a lot of witches here?” Granted, Ron said that Malfoy preferred to not be in a relationship, but Ron didn't say anything about whether or not Malfoy made a habit of dating many witches. If he had a reputation for having casual flings, she didn't want to give any impression that she was one of them. Taking a look at him, she deduced that he'd likely have no shortage of women who would be willing to be seen with him. It was no wonder that her teammates had made so many suggestive comments about him.
Malfoy chuckled at her remark, his gray eyes seeming uncommonly warm. “Only my mother. And occasionally Ron.”
She chuckled at the implication of Ron being feminine and took in Malfoy's expression after the light-hearted poke at her brother. His eyes seemed distant and a gentle smile graced his lips as if he was recalling fond memories. The soft lighting in the room gave additional warmth to his expression, adding highlights to his pale hair. It was becoming nearly impossible to find a fault with the blond. Though she'd made the truce with him, she hadn't entirely given up her quest to find an ulterior motive to his friendship with Ron, but, after months of trying, she'd only come to the conclusion that, now that he was finally free of the Death Eater factions, he was downright likeable.
His seeming lack of evil flaws was quite annoying. Worse, he was damned good-looking, although not entirely handsome. She'd never gotten over that first bout of attraction that had taken hold on Christmas day, although she'd fought it at first. She also hadn't forgotten the sloppy kiss he'd given her on New Year's Eve, although she doubted he remembered the incident.
“Mal-, umm, Draco, would you mind getting a table near the back? If we sit near the windows, I'm afraid we might be interrupted by drunken teammates.”
He nodded in agreement and indicated their preference to the hostess. Once they were seated, he continued the topic. “I take it, based on your skill with that hangover potion, that your teammates can be a rowdy bunch.”
“The first order of business with any new member of the team is to take them out and get them so pissed that they need that hangover potion. It's kind of a rite of initiation.”
“And I thought only the men's teams did things like that,” he said. “I presume then, that you were no exception?”
She shook her head, embarrassing memories and echos of the hangover making her wince slightly. “I was so excited to make the team, and everyone kept buying me drinks, before I knew it, I was dancing on the bar. It was humiliating.”
He chuckled. “How do you like your second season?”
She shrugged. “It's still great. I love the competition, but it's not quite the same as the first year, when everything was so new.”
“You seem more settled in your riding, not quite as anxious as you were last year.”
She nodded in agreement. “I'm not as nervous, I suppose.” She paused. “Ron told me that you were at my first match.”
“Yeah. It was a total coincidence. Normally, I only go to the Falcons, but I was in the area and was able to get a good seat. Later in the season, Ron made me go to your match against the Cannons. Daphne joined us for that one.”
Ginny tried to suppress a smile, knowing that Daphne continued to hide her relationship with the Cannons player from Malfoy.
“Don't grin, Weasley, I mean, Ginny. I know about Daph's little dalliance with Spinnet. I've known almost since the day it started.”
“But... but... Daphne said...”
“Daphne's about as subtle as a drunk hippogriff. But, I'll let her think she's keeping a secret. It makes her feel like she's got one over on me.”
“So, you approve?”
He snorted. "Spinnet's a decent enough bloke. He treats her well. I'm guessing his career won't last more than another season, maybe sooner if he takes another bludger hit like he did last week.”
“What a terrible thing to say!”
“Hush, hush, Weasley. He's had a good run of it. You know it's time for him to think of retiring and, when he does, I suspect he'll want to settle down with Daph and raise their own team. That's when she'll let me in on her 'secret' relationship.”
Her jaw dropped open.
With a smug grin, he proceeded to ignore her and looked down at his menu. She had no choice but to do the same.
After they ordered their meals, Ginny found herself searching for another topic of conversation and regretting her decision to go to dinner with the man.
“So...” she said, awkwardly. “Is there a particular reason that you invited me out tonight?”
He seemed in no hurry to answer. Taking a long sip of his wine, he eventually responded, “You pilfered my favorite shirt.”
She almost choked. Of all the things she'd expected him to say, that wasn't even close, and he'd managed to say it while she was taking a sip from her own wine. She nearly had to spit it out. Damn him, he'd probably timed that deliberately.
Unfortunately, his accusation was quite true. On New Year's day, after she'd changed back into her dress for her floo home, she'd kept the large Falcon's jersey that she'd worn while playing chess with Ron and sleeping on the comfortable sofa. Initially, her intentions had been honorable. She simply wanted to wash the item-in-question before returning it to its owner.
But, it was so warm and comfortable.
She had washed it, folded it and then decided that wearing it again as a nightshirt wouldn't hurt. Then, it happened again, and again.
After about three weeks, she concluded that, since Malfoy hadn't said anything, that he really didn't miss the item and she decided to keep it for herself and he'd never notice. Apparently, she had been wrong.
Knowing full well that she was guilty as charged, the only way she could see to escape was to go on the offensive. “Well, you owed me, after you... you...”
“Yes, after I got totally pissed and...” he started to say, but he never completed the statement because she interrupted.
“You kissed me!”
There. She said it. It was the worst kiss of her life, but somehow, it had bothered her to no end that he had no memory of the event.
His mouth dropped open. “That really happened,” he stated, clearly stunned.
“You remember, then?” she demanded.
“Of course, I remember. I lost track of things after we got outside, but, yes, I remember that.”
She sat back, crossed her arms and glared at him.
“I had been hoping that I might have imagined it," he said, with a slight frown.
At last, she had her proof. He still was repulsed by her because of her family values. “So, you admit that you regret kissing me,” she stated, hoping to draw out his true feelings. She expected nothing less than him being appalled over the fact that he'd locked lips with her, perhaps he might even toss out an insult or two, like he'd done during his schoolboy days.
He seemed confused. “Of course not!”
“What?” she stammered, somewhat inelegantly. She blinked, trying to process the fact that, not only had he remembered the event, but that he didn't regret it. “But, you said...”
“It was improper,” he said. “I took advantage of the fact that you were being very gracious and accommodating, considering my condition.”
She was quite certain that the dumbfounded look on her face must have been quite amusing but, for once, he didn't seem to be laughing at her, like he normally liked to do.
He leaned forward in earnest, his hand taking hers. She stared at it for a moment before looking back up at him. “I am very sorry, Weasley... umm, I mean, Ginevra. I should have apologized sooner, but there never seemed to be a good opportunity.”
Her jaw dropped, and she looked at his hand covering hers, unsure of how to respond.
“You said you don't regret kissing me.”
He shrugged, and she became acutely aware of his hands holding hers and how close they were. It suddenly felt like a real date.
“I don't regret it, Weas... Ginny.”
She wanted, no, she needed to change the subject because that damnable attraction toward him was rearing its ugly head again.
“So tell me, Mal... Draco, why do you hang out so much with my brother?”
He pulled away, the awkward moment broken. “It's complicated.”
She considered the non-answer, then decided she was too curious to let it go. “Try me.”
“Maybe you should ask him why he likes to be with me so much.”
“Maybe I already did. I'm asking you right now.”
Taking a deep breath, he pondered his answer. “He's different.”
She raised an eyebrow, silently asking him to continue.
“It's not just your brother, Ginevra, it's everything around him. Your family, your life, is just different from what I grew up with. It's nothing like I've ever experienced before and, this may sound selfish, but it's something that I need right now.”
It was the most serious that she'd seen of him since he'd walked into the Burrow so many months ago.
“I don't know how to describe how nice it is to walk in to your house and know that there's nothing expected of me. After my first meeting with Ron, when we went out to just play Quidditch, he absolutely didn't expect anything from me, except for who I was that day.”
“He didn't trust you, though. Not at first.”
“No, and I didn't expect anything of the sort. But, we went out and he was willing to just accept me as I was. After having had expectations put on me my whole life, by Pureblood society, my father, my classmates, and eventually Voldemort, and then, all that got turned on its head. Then, Ron came along and, well, it was nice that he just let me be. For a long time, we didn't talk about anything other than Quidditch, mostly because it was the only thing we were both certain not to argue over, ”
She nodded, trying to process his reasoning and desperately trying to ignore the fringe of hair that carelessly dropped over his right eye, or how intense those eyes were at the moment, focused on her.
She took an inelegantly large sip of her wine, if only for an excuse to look away from him for a moment.
“It seems your team mates are looking for you,” he said.
Shocked, she nearly choked on the gulp of wine, felt a portion of the sip get snorted into her nose, and grabbed her napkin to hide the ghastly display. She looked up at him angrily, certain that he'd timed that statement just to catch her off guard. He looked highly amused. She was certain that being around Fred and George had influenced him.
“Bugger...” she said, once she'd composed herself a bit, and took a quick peek behind her to see two of her team entering the restaurant and glancing around, before heading to the bar area. “That's all I need,” she said with annoyance and turned her seat so that she was effectively hidden by the back of the booth in which they were seated.
“Ashamed to be seen with me, Weasley?”
“No, you git. They all know I'm going to dinner with you. They've probably got a wager on the outcome of our date. If they see us, I'll never hear the end of it.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Date?”
Her jaw dropped in realization of what she'd just said. She'd called it a date. The grin on his face confirmed that he'd caught her and was going to hold the misspoken word against her forever. “I.. I didn't mean 'date' as in a date.”
His grin widened, if that were possible.
“You know I think I liked you better when you were an outright arse,” she grumbled, wishing for all the world that she could melt into the floor.
“Who says I've changed? It's just more fun this way, and you are too easy of a target, Weasley.”
She narrowed her eyes and tried not to audibly growl at him. “I knew it.”
He laughed, and it was a warm and pleasant sound that it made her blush in embarrassment. He waived the waitress over, so at least she had a moment to compose herself. “Can you please pack our meals to go? Toss a bottle of the cabernet in the package, and meet us by the back door, please.” The waitress nodded and hurried away.
“Have they seen us?” she asked.
“Not yet, but they will as soon as the fat man by the door moves out of the way,” he said, standing up and grabbing Ginny's hand to escort her up. Without letting go of her hand, he tugged her toward the back of the restaurant, where the waitress met them with the food. Pulling out a handful of galleons to cover the check, he paid the bill, grabbed the package in one hand, Ginny's arm with the other and scurried, if his graceful stride could be termed that, out of the restaurant to the alley behind the building.
“Something tells me that you've run out of that place before,” she remarked. “Are you sure you don't bring many witches there?”
He shrugged, giving a wry grin. “I've been known to run from unwanted attention from witches.”
She thought of how half the team had been drooling over him when they'd heard that she was going to dinner. Funny, she'd never thought that other women would find him attractive. It wasn't surprising, she thought. He was rather handsome and, of course, wealthy, so it wasn't unreasonable, if a female could tolerate all that arrogance.
She looked around the alley. “So, now what do we do?”
“I promised you dinner, and dinner we shall have,” he said grandly, giving a slight bow, before he pulled out his wand and Apparated them to his doorstep.
After flying for most of the afternoon, the trip left her a little dizzy, and by the time she'd composed herself, he was tugging her into his house. “Your place, Malfoy?”
“I thought we'd agreed to use first names,” he said cheerfully, placing the package on the coffee table in the lounge.
“Sorry. Draco,” she corrected. “As if going back to your place is better than being seen at dinner.”
“They don't need to know, and if they do, then great. If you're going to be the object of a bet, you might as well make it interesting for them.”
She dropped onto the sofa, dropping her head back and staring at the ceiling in mock defeat. She groaned loudly. “You are going to be the death of me.”
“Nonsense,” he said, cheerfully, as he rummaged through the kitchen, returning with two wine glasses and a corkscrew. “Tall tales are so much more fun. You can tell them that you had your way with me.”
She lifted her head from the cushion and glared at him, albeit weakly. “You've spent way too much time around my brothers. Fred and George have most definitely influenced you.”
“And I'm not sorry in the least. Laugh, Ginevra. I spent too many years being angry, and I know from experience that it's a much better way to live.”
She took the glass of wine he offered and watched him. With a wave of his wand, the meals unboxed onto the coffee table, then he sat down, cross-legged on the floor, with surprising amount of grace and tucked into his dinner.
His attitude was quite endearing. He reminded her of a playful child, and was glad that Ron and the twins had drawn this out of him. Despite herself, she felt a smile tug at her lips as she slid off the sofa and mirrored him, sitting cross-legged on the opposite side of the table.
He had been right, the food was delicious, and they chatted mostly about inconsequential things as they ate. After they finished, he vanished the empty containers and moved over to her side of the table to refill her glass. They sat there, on the soft carpeted floor, their backs leaning up against the sofa for a while, sharing light conversation. She had to admit, he was pleasant company when he wanted to be.
“So, Ron and Astoria...” she said, giving a light chuckle.
“He's completely smitten. It's pathetic, I tell you,” he responded, taking another sip of his wine.
“Whatever will you do without him? I mean, once Astoria is done with school, he'll probably be spending more time with her, if he doesn't muck it up, of course.”
“He won't muck it up. Tori is just as taken with him. He'd have to work too hard to muck it up, and it's just not in him.”
“Says the expert?” she asked.
“Who says I'm an expert in mucking up relationships?”
“Well, I don't see you with a girlfriend. You may have to acquire one to keep yourself occupied while Ron is with Astoria. Go on double dates and that sort of thing...”
He snorted. “I don't do relationships.”
“Liar.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Parkinson doesn't count. She's a slag. I didn't muck it up, she did.”
“I won't argue with you there. But, I don't think you want to be alone either.”
He leaned closer to her, their shoulders touching. Ginny had imbibed enough wine so that she felt pleasantly relaxed, and it appeared that he was in a similar state. “I'm waiting for the right girl to notice me.”
She looked at him, their faces close. “I'm sure she will.”
That's when he leaned in to kiss her, and she blamed the wine because she was too relaxed to pull away. Part of her had been expecting something akin to the sloppy, drunken kiss he'd given her on New Year's, and another part of her was curious to see if he could do better.
He didn't disappoint. She'd snogged enough boys in her young life to know a good kisser when she encountered one and he certainly fit the bill. His lips were soft, yet commanding, and she found herself quite taken up in the experience, enjoying it thoroughly. But, she reminded herself, this was not a boy, but a man.
She pulled away from the kiss, feeling light-headed, and just a bit confused. Then, the epiphany hit her when she realized that the schoolboy Draco, whom she'd hated so vehemently, had grown up. That was why he no longer behaved like the brat he'd been in school, and why he could overcome and be friends with her brother. And that was why she was so attracted to him.
And she'd just snogged him.
“I should go,” she said, scampering away from him.
He caught her hand before she could stand up. “Wait, Ginny... I'm sorry. I thought...”
“It's nothing you did. It's me. I mean, it's you and me, or... I don't know...” she stammered, suddenly feeling panicked. A million thoughts ran through her head. She was attracted to him. He apparently felt the same. She wondered how Ron would react, and if a relationship with Draco would ruin their friendship. Then realized that she'd just mentally thought of actually being in a relationship. It was too much to process.
“I had a lovely time,” she muttered, grabbing for her purse and racing toward the door, looking back to see him standing in the middle of the lounge, looking confused and just a bit sad, before she raced outside and Apparated herself back to her dorm to face her teammates.
By the end of the match, she was feeling broken and defeated, along with the rest of her team. It had been the most horrible game in her memory. She'd been pounded by the bludger three times, once nearly knocking her from her broom. Her shoulder was still feeling tender and, no doubt, the bruising was going to continue to nag her for the next few days.
After accepting defeat with the rest of her team, she flew in the direction of the center stands and scanned the departing crowd, looking for the familiar flash of red hair among the spectators. Ron had been attending every match since the beginning of the season, and she'd become fond of meeting up with him after the game. Granted, he was usually there with Malfoy, but she'd learned to accept the blond's presence, and had even come to enjoy his company, despite her previous reservations.
It had become familiar habit for her to glance into the stands to see the pair, usually in the center of the pitch, cheering her on, even during the pre-season practice matches. The bright red hair of her brother alongside his blond friend, standing out like a beacon among the crowds. It warmed her heart to know she had such dedicated fans.
This time, however, as she scanned the crowd, there was no flash of bright ginger next to the standout platinum blond in the center box. The crowds were clearing and she assumed he'd return shortly, giving a quick wave to the blond, she started signing a few autographs for fans.
Again, when she looked over, she only saw Malfoy waving back, but she flew toward him anyway, because, well, he was rather difficult to ignore. She greeted him politely, smiling and waving at other fans in the box. “You know, Malfoy, I'm going to tell Daphne that you're turning into a Harpies fan if you keep coming to my matches.”
“Falcons fan forever, Weasley,” he replied smartly. “I'm just here because your brother gave me his ticket.”
She frowned. “Ron's not here?”
“He's up in Hogsmeade.”
For a moment, Ginny felt deep disappointment. Having just lost a match, she had been hoping that spending some time with her brother would lift her spirits. Then, she deduced what Malfoy meant by that statement, and she couldn't help but give a devilish grin. “Is he meeting with Astoria?”
Malfoy's lips lifted, echoing her smile. “It's one of the last Hogsmeade weekends before she begins her NEWTs. When she invited him up, I sort of encouraged him to go.”
“Well, at least there's some cause for celebration,” she said. “Unfortunately, I was hoping he could take me to dinner, so I could forget about losing today.”
“It wasn't your fault,” he said. “They missed calling at least three fouls on you, and two on your Seeker. I think that would have made a difference.”
She shrugged, not really in the mood to make excuses. “Thank you, I suppose.”
Malfoy shuffled, seeming uncharacteristically uncomfortable. “I'd be happy to take you to dinner.”
“No need to feel obligated, Malfoy. I'm a big girl.”
“You know, we've been civil to each other long enough. Do you think you could call me Draco?”
The request was simple, but she really hadn't ever considered calling him by his first name. For the longest time, she mostly thought of him as the “Git”. Graduating to calling him by his surname had been an accomplishment. Referring to him by his first name seemed a bit unnatural. “I suppose,” she responded reluctantly.
“Good, then,” he said awkwardly. “I guess I'll pick you up at the front gate after you change.”
She frowned, uncertain about whether or not she'd actually agreed on going to dinner with him. True, he'd joined her and Ron once or twice, when they'd gone out after some of the previous matches, but this was different. She opened her mouth to protest, but he was already moving toward the exit and a small girl was looking up at her eagerly, waving a piece of parchment for her autograph, effectively preventing Ginny from calling out after him.
Since Ron wasn't there, Ginny deduced that his friend was simply being courteous. It had become one of those constants in the universe, where, after a game, she went out to dinner with her brother and his friend. It just so happened that her brother wasn't going to be there this time.
She wandered off to the locker room, feeling more than a bit confused. She'd never spent any time alone with Malfoy, except for the few minutes on New Year's Day. She had no idea what she was going to talk about with the prat.
In fact, she quickly came to the conclusion that she would just meet him at the gate and give him a polite, “No, thank you.” But, one of her teammates had seen her talking with the blond and had inquired about him when Ginny entered the showers. Unfortunately, Ginny made the mistake of mentioning that he'd asked her to dinner. By the time Ginny finished her shower and wrapped herself in a towel, the entire team had been informed, and Ginny was subjected to raucous encouragement, catcalls, and an endless list of romantic restaurants.
“It is NOT a date!” Ginny emphatically explained.
“Sure, it's not,” at least three responded mockingly in unison.
It was impossible to cancel the “date” at that point. She'd been shamed by her teammates so that backing out was not an option. If anything, ribbing Ginny had put the team in good spirits after their loss so, in the interest of team spirit, Ginny decided to go through with it.
x - x - x
As she and Malfoy walked into a quiet establishment, Ginny was struck by an uneasy feeling. When she went out with Ron, they typically chose a much less intimate sports-themed pub.
Before she could voice any dissent, he spoke, “I thought that the usual sports pubs might be a bit difficult, since your team lost today. I hope you don't mind. The food here is excellent.”
Suspicious, she asked, “Do you take a lot of witches here?” Granted, Ron said that Malfoy preferred to not be in a relationship, but Ron didn't say anything about whether or not Malfoy made a habit of dating many witches. If he had a reputation for having casual flings, she didn't want to give any impression that she was one of them. Taking a look at him, she deduced that he'd likely have no shortage of women who would be willing to be seen with him. It was no wonder that her teammates had made so many suggestive comments about him.
Malfoy chuckled at her remark, his gray eyes seeming uncommonly warm. “Only my mother. And occasionally Ron.”
She chuckled at the implication of Ron being feminine and took in Malfoy's expression after the light-hearted poke at her brother. His eyes seemed distant and a gentle smile graced his lips as if he was recalling fond memories. The soft lighting in the room gave additional warmth to his expression, adding highlights to his pale hair. It was becoming nearly impossible to find a fault with the blond. Though she'd made the truce with him, she hadn't entirely given up her quest to find an ulterior motive to his friendship with Ron, but, after months of trying, she'd only come to the conclusion that, now that he was finally free of the Death Eater factions, he was downright likeable.
His seeming lack of evil flaws was quite annoying. Worse, he was damned good-looking, although not entirely handsome. She'd never gotten over that first bout of attraction that had taken hold on Christmas day, although she'd fought it at first. She also hadn't forgotten the sloppy kiss he'd given her on New Year's Eve, although she doubted he remembered the incident.
“Mal-, umm, Draco, would you mind getting a table near the back? If we sit near the windows, I'm afraid we might be interrupted by drunken teammates.”
He nodded in agreement and indicated their preference to the hostess. Once they were seated, he continued the topic. “I take it, based on your skill with that hangover potion, that your teammates can be a rowdy bunch.”
“The first order of business with any new member of the team is to take them out and get them so pissed that they need that hangover potion. It's kind of a rite of initiation.”
“And I thought only the men's teams did things like that,” he said. “I presume then, that you were no exception?”
She shook her head, embarrassing memories and echos of the hangover making her wince slightly. “I was so excited to make the team, and everyone kept buying me drinks, before I knew it, I was dancing on the bar. It was humiliating.”
He chuckled. “How do you like your second season?”
She shrugged. “It's still great. I love the competition, but it's not quite the same as the first year, when everything was so new.”
“You seem more settled in your riding, not quite as anxious as you were last year.”
She nodded in agreement. “I'm not as nervous, I suppose.” She paused. “Ron told me that you were at my first match.”
“Yeah. It was a total coincidence. Normally, I only go to the Falcons, but I was in the area and was able to get a good seat. Later in the season, Ron made me go to your match against the Cannons. Daphne joined us for that one.”
Ginny tried to suppress a smile, knowing that Daphne continued to hide her relationship with the Cannons player from Malfoy.
“Don't grin, Weasley, I mean, Ginny. I know about Daph's little dalliance with Spinnet. I've known almost since the day it started.”
“But... but... Daphne said...”
“Daphne's about as subtle as a drunk hippogriff. But, I'll let her think she's keeping a secret. It makes her feel like she's got one over on me.”
“So, you approve?”
He snorted. "Spinnet's a decent enough bloke. He treats her well. I'm guessing his career won't last more than another season, maybe sooner if he takes another bludger hit like he did last week.”
“What a terrible thing to say!”
“Hush, hush, Weasley. He's had a good run of it. You know it's time for him to think of retiring and, when he does, I suspect he'll want to settle down with Daph and raise their own team. That's when she'll let me in on her 'secret' relationship.”
Her jaw dropped open.
With a smug grin, he proceeded to ignore her and looked down at his menu. She had no choice but to do the same.
After they ordered their meals, Ginny found herself searching for another topic of conversation and regretting her decision to go to dinner with the man.
“So...” she said, awkwardly. “Is there a particular reason that you invited me out tonight?”
He seemed in no hurry to answer. Taking a long sip of his wine, he eventually responded, “You pilfered my favorite shirt.”
She almost choked. Of all the things she'd expected him to say, that wasn't even close, and he'd managed to say it while she was taking a sip from her own wine. She nearly had to spit it out. Damn him, he'd probably timed that deliberately.
Unfortunately, his accusation was quite true. On New Year's day, after she'd changed back into her dress for her floo home, she'd kept the large Falcon's jersey that she'd worn while playing chess with Ron and sleeping on the comfortable sofa. Initially, her intentions had been honorable. She simply wanted to wash the item-in-question before returning it to its owner.
But, it was so warm and comfortable.
She had washed it, folded it and then decided that wearing it again as a nightshirt wouldn't hurt. Then, it happened again, and again.
After about three weeks, she concluded that, since Malfoy hadn't said anything, that he really didn't miss the item and she decided to keep it for herself and he'd never notice. Apparently, she had been wrong.
Knowing full well that she was guilty as charged, the only way she could see to escape was to go on the offensive. “Well, you owed me, after you... you...”
“Yes, after I got totally pissed and...” he started to say, but he never completed the statement because she interrupted.
“You kissed me!”
There. She said it. It was the worst kiss of her life, but somehow, it had bothered her to no end that he had no memory of the event.
His mouth dropped open. “That really happened,” he stated, clearly stunned.
“You remember, then?” she demanded.
“Of course, I remember. I lost track of things after we got outside, but, yes, I remember that.”
She sat back, crossed her arms and glared at him.
“I had been hoping that I might have imagined it," he said, with a slight frown.
At last, she had her proof. He still was repulsed by her because of her family values. “So, you admit that you regret kissing me,” she stated, hoping to draw out his true feelings. She expected nothing less than him being appalled over the fact that he'd locked lips with her, perhaps he might even toss out an insult or two, like he'd done during his schoolboy days.
He seemed confused. “Of course not!”
“What?” she stammered, somewhat inelegantly. She blinked, trying to process the fact that, not only had he remembered the event, but that he didn't regret it. “But, you said...”
“It was improper,” he said. “I took advantage of the fact that you were being very gracious and accommodating, considering my condition.”
She was quite certain that the dumbfounded look on her face must have been quite amusing but, for once, he didn't seem to be laughing at her, like he normally liked to do.
He leaned forward in earnest, his hand taking hers. She stared at it for a moment before looking back up at him. “I am very sorry, Weasley... umm, I mean, Ginevra. I should have apologized sooner, but there never seemed to be a good opportunity.”
Her jaw dropped, and she looked at his hand covering hers, unsure of how to respond.
“You said you don't regret kissing me.”
He shrugged, and she became acutely aware of his hands holding hers and how close they were. It suddenly felt like a real date.
“I don't regret it, Weas... Ginny.”
She wanted, no, she needed to change the subject because that damnable attraction toward him was rearing its ugly head again.
“So tell me, Mal... Draco, why do you hang out so much with my brother?”
He pulled away, the awkward moment broken. “It's complicated.”
She considered the non-answer, then decided she was too curious to let it go. “Try me.”
“Maybe you should ask him why he likes to be with me so much.”
“Maybe I already did. I'm asking you right now.”
Taking a deep breath, he pondered his answer. “He's different.”
She raised an eyebrow, silently asking him to continue.
“It's not just your brother, Ginevra, it's everything around him. Your family, your life, is just different from what I grew up with. It's nothing like I've ever experienced before and, this may sound selfish, but it's something that I need right now.”
It was the most serious that she'd seen of him since he'd walked into the Burrow so many months ago.
“I don't know how to describe how nice it is to walk in to your house and know that there's nothing expected of me. After my first meeting with Ron, when we went out to just play Quidditch, he absolutely didn't expect anything from me, except for who I was that day.”
“He didn't trust you, though. Not at first.”
“No, and I didn't expect anything of the sort. But, we went out and he was willing to just accept me as I was. After having had expectations put on me my whole life, by Pureblood society, my father, my classmates, and eventually Voldemort, and then, all that got turned on its head. Then, Ron came along and, well, it was nice that he just let me be. For a long time, we didn't talk about anything other than Quidditch, mostly because it was the only thing we were both certain not to argue over, ”
She nodded, trying to process his reasoning and desperately trying to ignore the fringe of hair that carelessly dropped over his right eye, or how intense those eyes were at the moment, focused on her.
She took an inelegantly large sip of her wine, if only for an excuse to look away from him for a moment.
“It seems your team mates are looking for you,” he said.
Shocked, she nearly choked on the gulp of wine, felt a portion of the sip get snorted into her nose, and grabbed her napkin to hide the ghastly display. She looked up at him angrily, certain that he'd timed that statement just to catch her off guard. He looked highly amused. She was certain that being around Fred and George had influenced him.
“Bugger...” she said, once she'd composed herself a bit, and took a quick peek behind her to see two of her team entering the restaurant and glancing around, before heading to the bar area. “That's all I need,” she said with annoyance and turned her seat so that she was effectively hidden by the back of the booth in which they were seated.
“Ashamed to be seen with me, Weasley?”
“No, you git. They all know I'm going to dinner with you. They've probably got a wager on the outcome of our date. If they see us, I'll never hear the end of it.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Date?”
Her jaw dropped in realization of what she'd just said. She'd called it a date. The grin on his face confirmed that he'd caught her and was going to hold the misspoken word against her forever. “I.. I didn't mean 'date' as in a date.”
His grin widened, if that were possible.
“You know I think I liked you better when you were an outright arse,” she grumbled, wishing for all the world that she could melt into the floor.
“Who says I've changed? It's just more fun this way, and you are too easy of a target, Weasley.”
She narrowed her eyes and tried not to audibly growl at him. “I knew it.”
He laughed, and it was a warm and pleasant sound that it made her blush in embarrassment. He waived the waitress over, so at least she had a moment to compose herself. “Can you please pack our meals to go? Toss a bottle of the cabernet in the package, and meet us by the back door, please.” The waitress nodded and hurried away.
“Have they seen us?” she asked.
“Not yet, but they will as soon as the fat man by the door moves out of the way,” he said, standing up and grabbing Ginny's hand to escort her up. Without letting go of her hand, he tugged her toward the back of the restaurant, where the waitress met them with the food. Pulling out a handful of galleons to cover the check, he paid the bill, grabbed the package in one hand, Ginny's arm with the other and scurried, if his graceful stride could be termed that, out of the restaurant to the alley behind the building.
“Something tells me that you've run out of that place before,” she remarked. “Are you sure you don't bring many witches there?”
He shrugged, giving a wry grin. “I've been known to run from unwanted attention from witches.”
She thought of how half the team had been drooling over him when they'd heard that she was going to dinner. Funny, she'd never thought that other women would find him attractive. It wasn't surprising, she thought. He was rather handsome and, of course, wealthy, so it wasn't unreasonable, if a female could tolerate all that arrogance.
She looked around the alley. “So, now what do we do?”
“I promised you dinner, and dinner we shall have,” he said grandly, giving a slight bow, before he pulled out his wand and Apparated them to his doorstep.
After flying for most of the afternoon, the trip left her a little dizzy, and by the time she'd composed herself, he was tugging her into his house. “Your place, Malfoy?”
“I thought we'd agreed to use first names,” he said cheerfully, placing the package on the coffee table in the lounge.
“Sorry. Draco,” she corrected. “As if going back to your place is better than being seen at dinner.”
“They don't need to know, and if they do, then great. If you're going to be the object of a bet, you might as well make it interesting for them.”
She dropped onto the sofa, dropping her head back and staring at the ceiling in mock defeat. She groaned loudly. “You are going to be the death of me.”
“Nonsense,” he said, cheerfully, as he rummaged through the kitchen, returning with two wine glasses and a corkscrew. “Tall tales are so much more fun. You can tell them that you had your way with me.”
She lifted her head from the cushion and glared at him, albeit weakly. “You've spent way too much time around my brothers. Fred and George have most definitely influenced you.”
“And I'm not sorry in the least. Laugh, Ginevra. I spent too many years being angry, and I know from experience that it's a much better way to live.”
She took the glass of wine he offered and watched him. With a wave of his wand, the meals unboxed onto the coffee table, then he sat down, cross-legged on the floor, with surprising amount of grace and tucked into his dinner.
His attitude was quite endearing. He reminded her of a playful child, and was glad that Ron and the twins had drawn this out of him. Despite herself, she felt a smile tug at her lips as she slid off the sofa and mirrored him, sitting cross-legged on the opposite side of the table.
He had been right, the food was delicious, and they chatted mostly about inconsequential things as they ate. After they finished, he vanished the empty containers and moved over to her side of the table to refill her glass. They sat there, on the soft carpeted floor, their backs leaning up against the sofa for a while, sharing light conversation. She had to admit, he was pleasant company when he wanted to be.
“So, Ron and Astoria...” she said, giving a light chuckle.
“He's completely smitten. It's pathetic, I tell you,” he responded, taking another sip of his wine.
“Whatever will you do without him? I mean, once Astoria is done with school, he'll probably be spending more time with her, if he doesn't muck it up, of course.”
“He won't muck it up. Tori is just as taken with him. He'd have to work too hard to muck it up, and it's just not in him.”
“Says the expert?” she asked.
“Who says I'm an expert in mucking up relationships?”
“Well, I don't see you with a girlfriend. You may have to acquire one to keep yourself occupied while Ron is with Astoria. Go on double dates and that sort of thing...”
He snorted. “I don't do relationships.”
“Liar.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Parkinson doesn't count. She's a slag. I didn't muck it up, she did.”
“I won't argue with you there. But, I don't think you want to be alone either.”
He leaned closer to her, their shoulders touching. Ginny had imbibed enough wine so that she felt pleasantly relaxed, and it appeared that he was in a similar state. “I'm waiting for the right girl to notice me.”
She looked at him, their faces close. “I'm sure she will.”
That's when he leaned in to kiss her, and she blamed the wine because she was too relaxed to pull away. Part of her had been expecting something akin to the sloppy, drunken kiss he'd given her on New Year's, and another part of her was curious to see if he could do better.
He didn't disappoint. She'd snogged enough boys in her young life to know a good kisser when she encountered one and he certainly fit the bill. His lips were soft, yet commanding, and she found herself quite taken up in the experience, enjoying it thoroughly. But, she reminded herself, this was not a boy, but a man.
She pulled away from the kiss, feeling light-headed, and just a bit confused. Then, the epiphany hit her when she realized that the schoolboy Draco, whom she'd hated so vehemently, had grown up. That was why he no longer behaved like the brat he'd been in school, and why he could overcome and be friends with her brother. And that was why she was so attracted to him.
And she'd just snogged him.
“I should go,” she said, scampering away from him.
He caught her hand before she could stand up. “Wait, Ginny... I'm sorry. I thought...”
“It's nothing you did. It's me. I mean, it's you and me, or... I don't know...” she stammered, suddenly feeling panicked. A million thoughts ran through her head. She was attracted to him. He apparently felt the same. She wondered how Ron would react, and if a relationship with Draco would ruin their friendship. Then realized that she'd just mentally thought of actually being in a relationship. It was too much to process.
“I had a lovely time,” she muttered, grabbing for her purse and racing toward the door, looking back to see him standing in the middle of the lounge, looking confused and just a bit sad, before she raced outside and Apparated herself back to her dorm to face her teammates.
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