No drama, no need for a show
Just wanna say I got you
Leona Lewis
"You're looking pretty rough, Mister Malfoy."
His tie was dangling, completely untied around his neck. His hair was limp and sweaty, and the front of his incredibly expensive suit was covered in a substance, which she did had no interest in hazarding a guess.
When he heard her voice, he pressed his face against the bars. "Weasley… Please…"
She smirked. "I'm enjoying this. Beg me."
His whole demeanor changed, making her realize that he wasn't nearly as drunk as she had originally assumed. "Ginevra Weasley, you work in my department. Not only am I your boss.. Well… I'm your bloody boss. Get me the hell out of here immediately, or I will-"
"Oh shut it. I already posted your bail. They're handling some paperwork."
When the officer with the key showed up, Draco was very pleased. "You're the best assistant I've ever had, Weasley."
She rolled her eyes. "I'm not your assistant. We don't work in the same office." Nonetheless, he fell out of the cage, his body tumbling into hers.
"Come now. I'll fly us to your flat, then I'll take myself home."
Ginny snorted. "If you think I'm getting on a broom with you, drunk or not, you have another thing coming. My flat isn't far from here. You can apparate from
there."
He shook his head. "No. You can't apparate into the Malfoy Manor from an undesignated fireplace. I'll walk you home, then I'll fly."
Pressing a hand to the goose egg at the back of his head, she disagreed. "Absolutely not. You might have a concussion. We need to get you somewhere to lay down. Come on."
It took longer than it should have to get the four blocks to her house. He was arguing the entire way about how he was perfectly capable of flying home, but she simply ignored him.
When they got to her house, she began wriggling through her purse. With a loud huff, Draco stepped forward and with a flick of his wrist, the door was open. "Did you forget all your years at Hogwarts that quickly, girl?"
He flounced into her flat before her, shouting "Lumos!" at the top of his lungs, for absolutely no reason. When she flicked the light switch on, he jumped. "Whoa… That's pretty impressive."
She rolled her eyes. "Thank the muggles for the wonderful invention of electricity. Now come here. Let me get you cleaned up." She sat him on the couch and went to the kitchen. "What did you think you were doing anyway, getting into a scuffle with a muggle reporter? Do you realize how lucky you are to have been able to walk away from there tonight? You aren't rich and powerful here." She brought him a cup of tea, and sat beside him. With a soft, wet cloth, she began rubbing the blood and dirt from his hair.
He winced, but didn't fight it. "He was not a muggle. He spoke of my father."
She stopped moving. That had been a touchy subject with him for a long time. His father had been killed by You-Know-Who, only moments before being killed himself. He had been an awful father. One who had beaten his only son and wife on a daily basis. He was a criminal, he was unkind and definitely heartless. He was, however, still Draco's father.
She gulped, and dared to ask "What did…he say?" She took his chin in her hand and dragged the cloth across his forehead.
He shook his head. "I don't want to talk about it, Weasley. Now stop mothering me." He took her wrist and pulled it away. "I am a grown man, and I am perfectly capable of licking my own wounds." He scooted away from her and put his face in his hands. "This night…"
Ginny sighed and tossed the cloth onto the coffee table. "Would you like to take a bath? I mean, alone of course."
He raised an eyebrow, suddenly looking a lot more like himself when he tipped his head in her direction with a smirk. "Well if bathing in a group is an option, I'd gladly take you up on the offer."
"Oh shut up Malfoy. I'll get your bath together." He caught her wrist as she began to stand.
"What did I tell you about licking my own wounds?"
She rolled her eyes. "I wasn't offering to lick anything. I was just going to put some bath salts in, since you don't live here. I'll get everything set, you just sit here."
After she left the room, Draco stood up and began wandering her living room. There were photos of her and her brothers all over the place. One of her and her parents… One of her and a little boy he didn't recognize. He wasn't a redhead, so he couldn't have belonged in that family by blood. Then there was a photo of her and Potter. They were young then… It was before he had been killed… Shortly after the death of Lord Voldemort, a rogue ministry official shot a killing curse off. It had been aimed at the dead body of You-Know-Who. It had, however, hit the young boy instead. It was a terrible tragedy that Ginny had never truly gotten over. Anyone could see that.
Ginny came back to the living room to catch him staring at the photo. "That was taken in my fifth year. I still miss him sometimes. Not as much anymore."
Draco quickly looked away. "I guess I should go take that bath." He chuckled at the notion, taking his tie off. "I haven't had a bath since I was a child. You women and your strange cus- Agh!" Moving his arms around the back to get his suit jacket off was excruciating.
Ginny rushed forward. "Oh come here. Stop being so stubborn and let me help you already!" She walked him toward her bathroom and sat him on the chaise.
Ignoring her comment, he said simply "Only a woman would have a couch in her bathroom."
"Move your arms up so I can get this jacket off of you." She pulled one arm out of its sleeve, and then the other. She winced when he gasped in pain, but after a moment, she tugged his jacket all the way off. Ginny slid her fingers along the edge of the buttons on his shirt.
"Are you going to tickle me, or undress me Mother Weasley?"
She giggled and shook her head. "Oh shut up." She unbuttoned his shirt in a hurry.
"Goodness, you'd think you've never seen a man naked before. Curb your excitement, would you? As exciting as this might be for you-"
"Oh get over yourself! And shut your face before I let you do this yourself."
"That isn't a punishment when I asked for that in the first place."
She slid the shirt off of his shoulders. She would likely have stopped to admire the scenery for a moment, had it not been for the sight that was truly in front of her. All over his body were scars. There were a few bruises and a bloody gash down his side from his most recent attack, but all the rest of these were old. Some were thick, fleshy scars. Other were thin, and deliberate. And of course, who could forget his dark mark?
Draco used one finger to tilt her face up. "My eyes are up here, darling." It wasn't until her eyes caught his, filled with sadness and a touch of fear, that he remembered what his chest looked like. He felt no shame, but at that moment, he felt the embarrassment that he hadn't felt since the first time a woman, (or should he say, girl) saw him with no shirt on. She had gaped at him, just as Ginny had been doing. The only difference was that the other girl had run away.
"Apologizing would make no difference here, would it?" she asked, suddenly quite timid.
He shook his head. "No. Now get out. I can handle the pants."
She nodded and rushed out of the bathroom through its second door. Once she reached her bedroom, she took off her work clothes, (her pantyhose especially,) and put on her bathrobe. Flopping onto her bed, she retraced the steps of her day.
The scent coming from the tub was intoxicating. Draco had no idea what she had used, but he wanted to steal whatever she had in her house that smelled like this. He sat on the edge of the tub and slid his body in. The hot water was achingly good. He understood why women loved this, though he would never admit it aloud. It soothed his bones, as well as everything else.
Why did I let myself get baited by that stupid reporter? I should have just walked away and I would be home in my own bed right now… But then again…
He shook his head. The littlest Weasley had her own office, two doors down from his. She was everywhere. Her voice, her ideas, her damned red hair. They didn't really know one another in school more than to shout meaningless insults. As adults however, they had chatted. It was strange. His family had done everything possible to kill hers, and all of her friends. Yet this very night, she had been walking past the club he was exiting, just in time to watch him attack that reporter. She had screamed when the reporter, with his car keys between his knuckles, had punched him repeatedly in the back of his head, as well as both shoulders. She had jumped in the middle, and had even followed him to jail.
He sighed, and decided that his bath was over. Standing, he realized that all she had were miniscule, baby pink towels. He rolled his eyes and wrapped one around his waist. He looked from one door to the other, and decided to go out the one Ginny had.
There, before him, was Ginny Weasley. She was in her bed, her legs still on the floor, and she was wearing a bathrobe. Clearly just a bathrobe, as all of her clothes were still on the floor.
"You know, there are house elves for a reason."
Ginny gasped and sat straight up. The blood rushed to her head, and she placed one palm on her forehead. "Ugh." That was when she noticed him. Scars ornot, his bare chest was impressive. He spent many years using his body in ways that built muscle on his chest, arms, shoulders and back. The towel was dangling dangerously low.
"I-I have some clothes that may fit. All of my childhood clothes are hand me downs, so you'll probably find something that fits."
She rushed to her closet and looked around. One dark red pair of Bill's old pajama pants hung close, so she took them. She tossed them to him. "Now let me find a shirt."
He shook his head. "No this is good. I like making you uncomfortable."
She rolled her eyes and fished through her closet some more. "I have more brothers than you have hairs on your head. You have nothing that would surprise me."
"Yes but I'm pretty confident that not only is my body quality, but your brothers don't know how to use theirs quite the way that I do."
His attempt at embarrassment wasn't successful. "You're right. They don't regularly get their heads pummeled by strangers." She tossed a shirt at him.
"No really. I don't sleep in shirts. Old habits die hard." He folded it, and placed it on her dresser.
"Let me get you a blanket. The couch is-"
"If you think I'm sleeping in your loo, you have another thing coming little girl."
She laughed. "I have a couch in my living room, remember?"
He paled. "Okay fine. Hush, I had a lot of whiskey."
Ginny looked through several drawers, but when she turned around, she found him nestled nice and cozy in her bed. "Oh no, get the hell out of my bed!"
He rolled his eyes. "We're both adults. Now put on some knickers so I don't get a show when we wake up."
She flushed. "I am wearing knickers, first of all. Second of all, get the hell out of my bed! I let you stay here for the night. I am not sleeping on the couch, and we are not sha-"
Draco reached forward and tugged her toward him by the wrist. "Just shut up and get into bed. We have work in the morning, and I need some rest after the night I've had."
She was fuming. "I refuse to get into that bed with you in it."
He tossed a pillow to the floor. "Ok fine. Sleep down there. Good night."
With rage, she grabbed the pillow and began to pummel him. "Get out of my bed!" She jumped to her knees on the bed, smacking him as hard as she could manage.
"Hey! Hey, my head is sensitive! Concussion, remember! Cut it out!" But she didn't. She continued her assault on his face.
Draco sat straight up and immediately took her by both wrists, tossing the pillow to the side. He pulled her into his chest, ignoring the fact that her bathrobe was slightly open. "You are clearly overtired and unless you want me to charm you immobile, I suggest you stop beating me with a pillow you clearly keep full with rocks."
Ginny was startled by their close proximity. They had never been this close before. Well, other than the mistletoe last Christmas. That was a peck on the cheek and a smile. This was much more intimidating. She sighed and pulled her wrists out of his grasp, flopping to her side in defeat. With her back to him, she closed her eyes.
"What, no 'goodnight Draco?'"
She turned to glare at him.
"Oh lighten up already. You're such a woman sometimes."
"I am a woman all of the time." This whole scenario was completely absurd.
In the hour or so since they'd gotten back to the house, it had begun to rain. She could hear the relaxing ping of the rain against her windows. Nights like these reminded her of her childhood. The Burrow used to shake in severe thunderstorms. She used to sit in the living room with Ron for hours on end, as he was absolutely terrified of the way the house seemed to tremble. She smiled at the memory. That was when she remembered the man sharing her bed. He had no siblings. When he was afraid of things… She wondered sincerely what used to happen. Before she could stop herself, she had rolled over and was facing him.
"Malfoy?" she asked, scooting closer to him.
He opened one eye and used it to look her up and down. "Ugh, make it quick, but if this is going to happen, you have to supply the rubber."
Ginny felt her face twist into one of disgust. "First of all, no thank you. Second of all, clearly you have no idea what you're doing if a quickie is satisfactory to you."
Draco allowed his other eye to open. "Ok, you've got my attention. You still need to supply the rubber." He was aware that he was slurring, but he didn't care.
With a sigh, Ginny asked "When you were a child…Who was your confidante? When I was little, Ron and I were very close. You had no siblings. Who did you turn to for comfort?"
His face drained of all color. His breathing stopped altogether for a moment or two, and Ginny realized instantly that she had made a mistake. He said nothing, though not for lack of anything to say.
Before she could second guess her decision, Ginny reached her hand out, and gripped his. All she could envision was a five year old blonde boy, hiding under his covers. He was terrified of the monster that lived in his closet. Most kids have the safety of the daylight, but what do you do when the monster in your closet is your own father?
"I'm sorry…"
"I don't need your pity, Weasley!" He tried to push her away, but she clung to him. "Don't do this to me, girl. Please…" His voice cracked, but he had learned years ago that tears made no difference.
Ginny didn't release her grip. Her eyes searched his face. "You don't have to be so strong all the time, you know. Right now, I am not your co-worker. I am not your Hogwarts enemy's little sister. I am a woman who just wants to listen to you."
He gulped and shook his head with vigor. "Why do you give a damn about what I have to say? Tomorrow morning, we're both going to get dressed and go to work. Our lives are going to continue simultaneously and separately."
"It feels good to trust someone." It was simple, but not inaccurate.
"What do you want me to say, Weasley? Do you want me to tell you that my father used to make his wand burn like fire and hold it against my back to see how
long I could go without crying? Do you want me to tell you about how my mother would sit in the same room and just watch? How about the time when I was four years old, one of our female house elves came into my room after my father beat me mercilessly and wiped the blood from my back with cold cloths. Father beat her to death with his bare hands in front of me, to teach me that women do not overstep their boundaries with the Malfoy men. What else do you want to know Weasley? I'm an open book."
Ginny was unsure as to when the tears began to trickle down her cheeks. She had overstepped her bounds and now he was hurting. "The whole world isn't such a dark place. There is sunshine. There is beauty."
"You sound like a child. There is no beauty anywhere. What good is sunshine if all it does is illuminate what we have? Especially when you have…nothing."
There was silence for a few moments. Ginny had no idea how to respond to something so harsh, but she knew it was his reality…
"Everything that gives your life sunshine? I had none of that. I have never known what it feels like to have someone love me, unconditionally. Or, to be fair, at all."
Ginny shook her head. "That can't possibly be true. Astoria?"
He snorted. "She married me for my money, Weasley. She never loved me, and she never pretended to. You know… At the coaching of my father, I started having sex as a fourth year. I'm 25 years old now, and I have never, even once, kissed anyone."
Ginny felt her face fall. "That's impossible. At Hogwarts, even the Gryffindor girls, used to talk about you. Many of the girls in my year fancied you. You had a hundred girlfriends… How do you even get to the shagging bit without the kissing?"
He raised an eyebrow. "You answered your own question. I was handsome. I was rich. All of the girls fancied me. If I told them to take off their robes and climb into my bed, they did it. With or without kisses. Father always told me that Malfoy men always got what we wanted without pretext, and we never beg. Kissing, in his view, was what men do when they need to convince women to have sex. Like he said, Malfoy men always get what they want."
He rolled over so he was no longer facing her. He wrapped himself up in the blanket and closed his eyes. This conversation was over, and he knew that if he wasn't drunk, he would be insanely embarrassed.
Ginny remembered her first kiss. She was ten years old, and going to primary school. It was just after lunch, and she was racing along the edge of the playground, when a little boy named Reggie Diagro threw a ball across the park, just missing her head. She had shouted 'Missed me, missed me, now you've gotta kiss me!' He took it literally, and pulled her in for a wet one. Every time she thought of that moment, she smiled.
Kisses were supposed to be a source of joy. They were supposed to make you feel good.
She stared at his back with sadness. He had missed so much of his life because of his father. Her biggest flaw was not knowing when to mind her own business. She sighed and tapped his shoulder.
"Turn around, Malfoy."
He rolled back over. His jaw was tight, and his eyes were full of anger. "What? What else could you possibly want from me?"
She took a deep breath and moved her body forward. She untucked the blanket he had curled himself into, and wrapped herself under it with him. One hand, and then the other came up to cup his cheeks.
"What are you doing?"
"For once in your life," she nearly whispered, "just shut up and feel something."
The second her lips touched his, she felt him become rigid. His arms were at his sides, his lips clasped tightly together. With nervousness, she let one hand slide up into his hair, gently caressing his scalp with her fingertips.
He tried to open his mouth to protest, but she used that moment to allow her tongue entrance where he was sure it did not belong. His resistance melted quickly after that point. He felt his hands slide into the folds of her bathrobe and glide across soft, warm skin. She was in only her knickers, so he was granted the privilege of bare skin. He pulled her tightly into him, and allowed his fingers to trace their way up to her breasts.
She pulled away. "No. Just enjoy this for what it is." When she leaned back in, she took his lower lip between her teeth, then gently sucked.
Chest to chest, she could feel his heart pounding out of control. His arms were tight around her waist. This feeling was something that he never imagined possible. He was unsure as to when they stopped kissing and actually fell asleep. All he knew was that this was an evening for the books.
Just wanna say I got you
Leona Lewis
"You're looking pretty rough, Mister Malfoy."
His tie was dangling, completely untied around his neck. His hair was limp and sweaty, and the front of his incredibly expensive suit was covered in a substance, which she did had no interest in hazarding a guess.
When he heard her voice, he pressed his face against the bars. "Weasley… Please…"
She smirked. "I'm enjoying this. Beg me."
His whole demeanor changed, making her realize that he wasn't nearly as drunk as she had originally assumed. "Ginevra Weasley, you work in my department. Not only am I your boss.. Well… I'm your bloody boss. Get me the hell out of here immediately, or I will-"
"Oh shut it. I already posted your bail. They're handling some paperwork."
When the officer with the key showed up, Draco was very pleased. "You're the best assistant I've ever had, Weasley."
She rolled her eyes. "I'm not your assistant. We don't work in the same office." Nonetheless, he fell out of the cage, his body tumbling into hers.
"Come now. I'll fly us to your flat, then I'll take myself home."
Ginny snorted. "If you think I'm getting on a broom with you, drunk or not, you have another thing coming. My flat isn't far from here. You can apparate from
there."
He shook his head. "No. You can't apparate into the Malfoy Manor from an undesignated fireplace. I'll walk you home, then I'll fly."
Pressing a hand to the goose egg at the back of his head, she disagreed. "Absolutely not. You might have a concussion. We need to get you somewhere to lay down. Come on."
It took longer than it should have to get the four blocks to her house. He was arguing the entire way about how he was perfectly capable of flying home, but she simply ignored him.
When they got to her house, she began wriggling through her purse. With a loud huff, Draco stepped forward and with a flick of his wrist, the door was open. "Did you forget all your years at Hogwarts that quickly, girl?"
He flounced into her flat before her, shouting "Lumos!" at the top of his lungs, for absolutely no reason. When she flicked the light switch on, he jumped. "Whoa… That's pretty impressive."
She rolled her eyes. "Thank the muggles for the wonderful invention of electricity. Now come here. Let me get you cleaned up." She sat him on the couch and went to the kitchen. "What did you think you were doing anyway, getting into a scuffle with a muggle reporter? Do you realize how lucky you are to have been able to walk away from there tonight? You aren't rich and powerful here." She brought him a cup of tea, and sat beside him. With a soft, wet cloth, she began rubbing the blood and dirt from his hair.
He winced, but didn't fight it. "He was not a muggle. He spoke of my father."
She stopped moving. That had been a touchy subject with him for a long time. His father had been killed by You-Know-Who, only moments before being killed himself. He had been an awful father. One who had beaten his only son and wife on a daily basis. He was a criminal, he was unkind and definitely heartless. He was, however, still Draco's father.
She gulped, and dared to ask "What did…he say?" She took his chin in her hand and dragged the cloth across his forehead.
He shook his head. "I don't want to talk about it, Weasley. Now stop mothering me." He took her wrist and pulled it away. "I am a grown man, and I am perfectly capable of licking my own wounds." He scooted away from her and put his face in his hands. "This night…"
Ginny sighed and tossed the cloth onto the coffee table. "Would you like to take a bath? I mean, alone of course."
He raised an eyebrow, suddenly looking a lot more like himself when he tipped his head in her direction with a smirk. "Well if bathing in a group is an option, I'd gladly take you up on the offer."
"Oh shut up Malfoy. I'll get your bath together." He caught her wrist as she began to stand.
"What did I tell you about licking my own wounds?"
She rolled her eyes. "I wasn't offering to lick anything. I was just going to put some bath salts in, since you don't live here. I'll get everything set, you just sit here."
After she left the room, Draco stood up and began wandering her living room. There were photos of her and her brothers all over the place. One of her and her parents… One of her and a little boy he didn't recognize. He wasn't a redhead, so he couldn't have belonged in that family by blood. Then there was a photo of her and Potter. They were young then… It was before he had been killed… Shortly after the death of Lord Voldemort, a rogue ministry official shot a killing curse off. It had been aimed at the dead body of You-Know-Who. It had, however, hit the young boy instead. It was a terrible tragedy that Ginny had never truly gotten over. Anyone could see that.
Ginny came back to the living room to catch him staring at the photo. "That was taken in my fifth year. I still miss him sometimes. Not as much anymore."
Draco quickly looked away. "I guess I should go take that bath." He chuckled at the notion, taking his tie off. "I haven't had a bath since I was a child. You women and your strange cus- Agh!" Moving his arms around the back to get his suit jacket off was excruciating.
Ginny rushed forward. "Oh come here. Stop being so stubborn and let me help you already!" She walked him toward her bathroom and sat him on the chaise.
Ignoring her comment, he said simply "Only a woman would have a couch in her bathroom."
"Move your arms up so I can get this jacket off of you." She pulled one arm out of its sleeve, and then the other. She winced when he gasped in pain, but after a moment, she tugged his jacket all the way off. Ginny slid her fingers along the edge of the buttons on his shirt.
"Are you going to tickle me, or undress me Mother Weasley?"
She giggled and shook her head. "Oh shut up." She unbuttoned his shirt in a hurry.
"Goodness, you'd think you've never seen a man naked before. Curb your excitement, would you? As exciting as this might be for you-"
"Oh get over yourself! And shut your face before I let you do this yourself."
"That isn't a punishment when I asked for that in the first place."
She slid the shirt off of his shoulders. She would likely have stopped to admire the scenery for a moment, had it not been for the sight that was truly in front of her. All over his body were scars. There were a few bruises and a bloody gash down his side from his most recent attack, but all the rest of these were old. Some were thick, fleshy scars. Other were thin, and deliberate. And of course, who could forget his dark mark?
Draco used one finger to tilt her face up. "My eyes are up here, darling." It wasn't until her eyes caught his, filled with sadness and a touch of fear, that he remembered what his chest looked like. He felt no shame, but at that moment, he felt the embarrassment that he hadn't felt since the first time a woman, (or should he say, girl) saw him with no shirt on. She had gaped at him, just as Ginny had been doing. The only difference was that the other girl had run away.
"Apologizing would make no difference here, would it?" she asked, suddenly quite timid.
He shook his head. "No. Now get out. I can handle the pants."
She nodded and rushed out of the bathroom through its second door. Once she reached her bedroom, she took off her work clothes, (her pantyhose especially,) and put on her bathrobe. Flopping onto her bed, she retraced the steps of her day.
The scent coming from the tub was intoxicating. Draco had no idea what she had used, but he wanted to steal whatever she had in her house that smelled like this. He sat on the edge of the tub and slid his body in. The hot water was achingly good. He understood why women loved this, though he would never admit it aloud. It soothed his bones, as well as everything else.
Why did I let myself get baited by that stupid reporter? I should have just walked away and I would be home in my own bed right now… But then again…
He shook his head. The littlest Weasley had her own office, two doors down from his. She was everywhere. Her voice, her ideas, her damned red hair. They didn't really know one another in school more than to shout meaningless insults. As adults however, they had chatted. It was strange. His family had done everything possible to kill hers, and all of her friends. Yet this very night, she had been walking past the club he was exiting, just in time to watch him attack that reporter. She had screamed when the reporter, with his car keys between his knuckles, had punched him repeatedly in the back of his head, as well as both shoulders. She had jumped in the middle, and had even followed him to jail.
He sighed, and decided that his bath was over. Standing, he realized that all she had were miniscule, baby pink towels. He rolled his eyes and wrapped one around his waist. He looked from one door to the other, and decided to go out the one Ginny had.
There, before him, was Ginny Weasley. She was in her bed, her legs still on the floor, and she was wearing a bathrobe. Clearly just a bathrobe, as all of her clothes were still on the floor.
"You know, there are house elves for a reason."
Ginny gasped and sat straight up. The blood rushed to her head, and she placed one palm on her forehead. "Ugh." That was when she noticed him. Scars ornot, his bare chest was impressive. He spent many years using his body in ways that built muscle on his chest, arms, shoulders and back. The towel was dangling dangerously low.
"I-I have some clothes that may fit. All of my childhood clothes are hand me downs, so you'll probably find something that fits."
She rushed to her closet and looked around. One dark red pair of Bill's old pajama pants hung close, so she took them. She tossed them to him. "Now let me find a shirt."
He shook his head. "No this is good. I like making you uncomfortable."
She rolled her eyes and fished through her closet some more. "I have more brothers than you have hairs on your head. You have nothing that would surprise me."
"Yes but I'm pretty confident that not only is my body quality, but your brothers don't know how to use theirs quite the way that I do."
His attempt at embarrassment wasn't successful. "You're right. They don't regularly get their heads pummeled by strangers." She tossed a shirt at him.
"No really. I don't sleep in shirts. Old habits die hard." He folded it, and placed it on her dresser.
"Let me get you a blanket. The couch is-"
"If you think I'm sleeping in your loo, you have another thing coming little girl."
She laughed. "I have a couch in my living room, remember?"
He paled. "Okay fine. Hush, I had a lot of whiskey."
Ginny looked through several drawers, but when she turned around, she found him nestled nice and cozy in her bed. "Oh no, get the hell out of my bed!"
He rolled his eyes. "We're both adults. Now put on some knickers so I don't get a show when we wake up."
She flushed. "I am wearing knickers, first of all. Second of all, get the hell out of my bed! I let you stay here for the night. I am not sleeping on the couch, and we are not sha-"
Draco reached forward and tugged her toward him by the wrist. "Just shut up and get into bed. We have work in the morning, and I need some rest after the night I've had."
She was fuming. "I refuse to get into that bed with you in it."
He tossed a pillow to the floor. "Ok fine. Sleep down there. Good night."
With rage, she grabbed the pillow and began to pummel him. "Get out of my bed!" She jumped to her knees on the bed, smacking him as hard as she could manage.
"Hey! Hey, my head is sensitive! Concussion, remember! Cut it out!" But she didn't. She continued her assault on his face.
Draco sat straight up and immediately took her by both wrists, tossing the pillow to the side. He pulled her into his chest, ignoring the fact that her bathrobe was slightly open. "You are clearly overtired and unless you want me to charm you immobile, I suggest you stop beating me with a pillow you clearly keep full with rocks."
Ginny was startled by their close proximity. They had never been this close before. Well, other than the mistletoe last Christmas. That was a peck on the cheek and a smile. This was much more intimidating. She sighed and pulled her wrists out of his grasp, flopping to her side in defeat. With her back to him, she closed her eyes.
"What, no 'goodnight Draco?'"
She turned to glare at him.
"Oh lighten up already. You're such a woman sometimes."
"I am a woman all of the time." This whole scenario was completely absurd.
In the hour or so since they'd gotten back to the house, it had begun to rain. She could hear the relaxing ping of the rain against her windows. Nights like these reminded her of her childhood. The Burrow used to shake in severe thunderstorms. She used to sit in the living room with Ron for hours on end, as he was absolutely terrified of the way the house seemed to tremble. She smiled at the memory. That was when she remembered the man sharing her bed. He had no siblings. When he was afraid of things… She wondered sincerely what used to happen. Before she could stop herself, she had rolled over and was facing him.
"Malfoy?" she asked, scooting closer to him.
He opened one eye and used it to look her up and down. "Ugh, make it quick, but if this is going to happen, you have to supply the rubber."
Ginny felt her face twist into one of disgust. "First of all, no thank you. Second of all, clearly you have no idea what you're doing if a quickie is satisfactory to you."
Draco allowed his other eye to open. "Ok, you've got my attention. You still need to supply the rubber." He was aware that he was slurring, but he didn't care.
With a sigh, Ginny asked "When you were a child…Who was your confidante? When I was little, Ron and I were very close. You had no siblings. Who did you turn to for comfort?"
His face drained of all color. His breathing stopped altogether for a moment or two, and Ginny realized instantly that she had made a mistake. He said nothing, though not for lack of anything to say.
Before she could second guess her decision, Ginny reached her hand out, and gripped his. All she could envision was a five year old blonde boy, hiding under his covers. He was terrified of the monster that lived in his closet. Most kids have the safety of the daylight, but what do you do when the monster in your closet is your own father?
"I'm sorry…"
"I don't need your pity, Weasley!" He tried to push her away, but she clung to him. "Don't do this to me, girl. Please…" His voice cracked, but he had learned years ago that tears made no difference.
Ginny didn't release her grip. Her eyes searched his face. "You don't have to be so strong all the time, you know. Right now, I am not your co-worker. I am not your Hogwarts enemy's little sister. I am a woman who just wants to listen to you."
He gulped and shook his head with vigor. "Why do you give a damn about what I have to say? Tomorrow morning, we're both going to get dressed and go to work. Our lives are going to continue simultaneously and separately."
"It feels good to trust someone." It was simple, but not inaccurate.
"What do you want me to say, Weasley? Do you want me to tell you that my father used to make his wand burn like fire and hold it against my back to see how
long I could go without crying? Do you want me to tell you about how my mother would sit in the same room and just watch? How about the time when I was four years old, one of our female house elves came into my room after my father beat me mercilessly and wiped the blood from my back with cold cloths. Father beat her to death with his bare hands in front of me, to teach me that women do not overstep their boundaries with the Malfoy men. What else do you want to know Weasley? I'm an open book."
Ginny was unsure as to when the tears began to trickle down her cheeks. She had overstepped her bounds and now he was hurting. "The whole world isn't such a dark place. There is sunshine. There is beauty."
"You sound like a child. There is no beauty anywhere. What good is sunshine if all it does is illuminate what we have? Especially when you have…nothing."
There was silence for a few moments. Ginny had no idea how to respond to something so harsh, but she knew it was his reality…
"Everything that gives your life sunshine? I had none of that. I have never known what it feels like to have someone love me, unconditionally. Or, to be fair, at all."
Ginny shook her head. "That can't possibly be true. Astoria?"
He snorted. "She married me for my money, Weasley. She never loved me, and she never pretended to. You know… At the coaching of my father, I started having sex as a fourth year. I'm 25 years old now, and I have never, even once, kissed anyone."
Ginny felt her face fall. "That's impossible. At Hogwarts, even the Gryffindor girls, used to talk about you. Many of the girls in my year fancied you. You had a hundred girlfriends… How do you even get to the shagging bit without the kissing?"
He raised an eyebrow. "You answered your own question. I was handsome. I was rich. All of the girls fancied me. If I told them to take off their robes and climb into my bed, they did it. With or without kisses. Father always told me that Malfoy men always got what we wanted without pretext, and we never beg. Kissing, in his view, was what men do when they need to convince women to have sex. Like he said, Malfoy men always get what they want."
He rolled over so he was no longer facing her. He wrapped himself up in the blanket and closed his eyes. This conversation was over, and he knew that if he wasn't drunk, he would be insanely embarrassed.
Ginny remembered her first kiss. She was ten years old, and going to primary school. It was just after lunch, and she was racing along the edge of the playground, when a little boy named Reggie Diagro threw a ball across the park, just missing her head. She had shouted 'Missed me, missed me, now you've gotta kiss me!' He took it literally, and pulled her in for a wet one. Every time she thought of that moment, she smiled.
Kisses were supposed to be a source of joy. They were supposed to make you feel good.
She stared at his back with sadness. He had missed so much of his life because of his father. Her biggest flaw was not knowing when to mind her own business. She sighed and tapped his shoulder.
"Turn around, Malfoy."
He rolled back over. His jaw was tight, and his eyes were full of anger. "What? What else could you possibly want from me?"
She took a deep breath and moved her body forward. She untucked the blanket he had curled himself into, and wrapped herself under it with him. One hand, and then the other came up to cup his cheeks.
"What are you doing?"
"For once in your life," she nearly whispered, "just shut up and feel something."
The second her lips touched his, she felt him become rigid. His arms were at his sides, his lips clasped tightly together. With nervousness, she let one hand slide up into his hair, gently caressing his scalp with her fingertips.
He tried to open his mouth to protest, but she used that moment to allow her tongue entrance where he was sure it did not belong. His resistance melted quickly after that point. He felt his hands slide into the folds of her bathrobe and glide across soft, warm skin. She was in only her knickers, so he was granted the privilege of bare skin. He pulled her tightly into him, and allowed his fingers to trace their way up to her breasts.
She pulled away. "No. Just enjoy this for what it is." When she leaned back in, she took his lower lip between her teeth, then gently sucked.
Chest to chest, she could feel his heart pounding out of control. His arms were tight around her waist. This feeling was something that he never imagined possible. He was unsure as to when they stopped kissing and actually fell asleep. All he knew was that this was an evening for the books.
Leave a Review