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Doctor Who: Pick Me Up (1/1)

2008-03-28T22:59:00.000-07:00

Title: Pick Me Up
Rating: PG13
Spoilers: Rose, GitF
Pairing: Ten/Rose
Word Count: 1,700
Summary: Historical crushes at a party in 18th Century Venice. A sweet bit of fluff.

A/N: Happy!Who fic, for the prompt: Casanova. 'Bella regazza' means beautiful girl in Italian (so says the internet). The info on black clusters comes from a Star Trek Wiki (because I can’t make heads or tails of real astronomical information).

-----

The Doctor was beginning to regret this trip.

He'd taken Rose to Venice in the 18th century to see and taste and smell the Carnevale, a city wide masquerade party. An excuse for the locals to drink and be more than a little merry before Lent was upon them. The TARDIS had provided an elaborate period gown for Rose, complete with a tiny feathered eye mask. The Doctor, as usual, had not dressed for the occasion.

She had been gone from his side for less than three minutes, but when he'd found her again she was already seemingly deep in conversation with some Italian dandy.

"Doctor, this is Giacomo Casanova," she said in that low sultry voice she used when wanting to make a point.

"Ah, hello!" The Doctor looked between them, as he was being mostly ignored by the pair, and felt a growl begin to grow in his throat. Rose was smiling that smile. And not at him.

"Please, bella regazza, call me Giac," the cad said, kissing her knuckles.

"Giac," Rose repeated with a laugh, her smile growing impossibly wider, tongue poking between her teeth.

The Doctor cleared his throat loudly before the growl could become an indignant roar. That was his smile!

Casanova's lips lingered on Rose's hand, and she did not pull away, so the Doctor did it for her. His fingers closed around her wrist, and as politely as was possible in such an impolite situation, pulled her hand away from the offending Italian's lips, and twined his fingers with hers.

There. That was better.

"So, Giac," the Doctor said, in his most dismissive tone. "What brings you to--"

"Can I talk to you for a minute?" Rose interrupted. The Doctor looked at her in surprise and then gulped. Oh, he'd made her angry. What had he done now?

Rose told Casanova that she'd be back in a moment, and pulled the Doctor away from the party, out into a hall. He followed her slowly, the walk of a man towards the gallows.

"What are you doing?" she asked, piercing him with a glare.

"What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean! That, in there!"

"He was slobbering all over you! He was about to start licking your fingers. I was being helpful."

Rose just looked at him. "No, licking is your thing. He was being charming."

"That's what he does, Rose," the Doctor said patiently. "He's the most famous womanizer in your history, and--"

"And he was kissing my hand."

"You're going to be taken in by that? A-- a-- historical crush!"

"Well, why not? You know, it's nice to be noticed once in awhile. For someone to tell me I'm beautiful and all that," she said.

"He's a cad! And you're just being taken in by all the mystique! Just because he's Casanova! Any other bloke and you have--"

Rose jabbed her finger into his chest. "Look you--” She stopped, and breathed angrily through her nose. "Historical crush,” she muttered, “Why I-- I've got three words for you, Doctor. Madame de-bloody-Pompadour." And she turned on her heel and stalked back towards the party.

The Doctor resisted the urge to tell her that was actually four words, and watched her go with a sigh. And now that was coming back to haunt him, was it? He ran his hands over his face and followed after her.

Just in time to see Giacomo Casanova offer Rose his arm and lead her to the dance floor.

The Doctor leaned against the wall, folded his arms over his chest and told himself that he was not pouting. Time Lords did not pout. He was keeping an eye on her, that's all. Never mind that she wasn't in danger, exactly, and never mind that Rose was capable of dealing with far worse than some slimy 18th century playboy, never mind that if she'd been capable of deflecting the advances of one Captain Jack Harkness that seeing through the likes of Casanova would be a walk in the park. Never mind all that.

He was concerned. Mildly concerned. And maybe, just maybe, more than a little jealous. And put out. Definitely put out.

He was suddenly distracted by the sound of familiar laughter ringing over the orchestra.

It was Rose. She was nearly doubled over, clutching her stomach, and while this made the Doctor frown, because what on Earth could Casanova have said to make her laugh like that, he was cheered because the great Casanova, seducer of women, was looking decidedly vexed.

Time for him to cut in.

He cut through the crowd, and tapped the other man on the shoulder. "May I?"

Casanova, still looking a bit bewildered, handed Rose off to the Doctor. She was helpless with laughter, and the Doctor couldn't help but laugh a bit with her as he took her into his arms.

"What's got you in such a state then?"

"He-- he--" she hiccupped. "He said--" She buried her face in his shoulder and took deep breaths. "He asked if it hurt."

"What? What's hurt? Are you hurt?"

"No!" she said, and bit her lip to keep from doubling over again. "He asked if it hurt when I fell from heaven."

The Doctor let out a bark of laughter, and reveled in the feeling of Rose pressed against him, shaking with laughter.

"Ah, see? That's the problem with time travel. Witnessing the birth of clichés."

"It is a hell of a line," she said, much more calmly.

The Doctor began to lead them in a slow waltz, not caring that the tempo of the music wasn't quite right for it. Rose's hand was in his, and her cheek was resting in the vicinity of his shoulder, and he could smell her shampoo.

"I've got to say, yours was much better," she said.

"My what?"

"Your line."

"I've never used a line in my life. Not ever. Never. Don't need 'em."

"Oh, yeah?" she said, looking up and stopping their dance. She held his hand and recited, "I can feel it. The turn of the Earth. The ground beneath our feet is spinning at a thousand miles an hour, and the entire planet is hurtling 'round the sun at sixty-seven thousand miles an hour. And I can feel it. We're falling through space, you and me. Clinging to the skin of this tiny world, and if we let go... Now, forget me, Rose Tyler."

The Doctor scratched the back of his neck. "Ah." He could see how that was some sort of line... especially with Rose's delivery. Low and sultry with her big brown eyes piercing his.

Rose shrugged with feigned nonchalance. "Worked on me, anyway."

He pulled her back into dancing position, and held her close. "I'm glad."

Rose bit her lip, as though she was debating something, and then said, "So come on Doctor. What else have you got? Seduce me with some of that technobabble." Rose looked up at him, nervous and hopeful, through her eyelashes.

The Doctor swallowed. His mouth had gone strangely dry. "Well, I--" He cleared his throat. Rose had issued a challenge, and he couldn't very well leave it alone. Inspiration dawned. "Rose? Have I ever taken you to see a black cluster? There's an absolutely gorgeous one on the edge of the Vico galaxy. All purple and blue stardust."

She looked slightly crestfallen, but covered it up with a smile. "No. We off then?"

The Doctor hummed a negative and went on, his hand at her waist pulling her in closer.

"A black cluster is created when numerous protostars, which are basically newborn stars, with gases hardly out of their gravitational collapse phase and nuclear fusion at their core has just begun-- Well, you've seen one! On Alaxis VI? That second tiny sun? Pink?" Rose nodded, a delighted smile beginning to bloom on her face.

"Anyway," the Doctor continued, getting into his stride, "a black cluster is what happens when a bunch of these newborn stars collapse in on themselves within close proximity to the others. Now the space around the black cluster absorbs energy in massive amounts. We're talking debilitating. Very dangerous to ordinary spacecraft. Lots of spatial phenomenon. Gravitational wavefronts, harmonic amplification effects--"

Rose raised herself onto her toes and pressed her lips to his. The Doctor happily kissed her back.

Rose, being in sole possession of her body and not on the verge of time-vortex related death, was an excellent kisser. The Doctor raised a hand to curve around her neck, holding her in place, because now that she was kissing him so excellently, and was so completely herself, he was not willing to let her stop.

Though eventually Rose required air to breathe, and they broke apart. The Doctor rested his forehead against hers and said, "I hadn't even gotten to the magnetascopic interference."

Rose laughed, and kissed him again.

"Rose Tyler with a science fetish," he teased. "Who knew?"

She blushed. "Don't tell anyone, yeah? Our little secret?"

"Course not! Cause now I know, and you know that I know, and we both know, and I won't be letting anyone else know that."

She raised an eyebrow. "Are you saying that you want to keep me all to yourself?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying, Rose."

She made a happy noise, and hugged him tightly. The Doctor hugged back, and kissed her neck, loving that he could give into that urge now, and breathed her in. She was lovely, his Rose, all soft and pink and yellow, and smelling of flowers.

"Tell me more about these black clusters, Doctor," she said, her breath warm on cheek.

"I don't know that I should," he said. "If I tell you any more about how frankly amazing black clusters are, I fear that we may cause a riot. It's an awful lot of technobabble, Rose, and I don't know that you'll be able to contain yourself."

She giggled. "Then take me back to the TARDIS and tell me more about black clusters and this harmonic amplification effect..."

He grinned. "Oh, I think I like it when you talk science-y too." She laughed.

He kissed her once more, briefly, and led her away from the party, waving cheerfully at Giacomo Casanova as they left. There was a science lesson to be had on the TARDIS, and Rose looked to be a very willing student.

Science and seduction. The universe and Rose. Four of his favorite things.

------

Harry Potter: Club Amortentia (1/1)

2007-06-26T23:06:00.000-07:00

Title: Club Amortentia
Rating: NC-17. If you’re not of age, then back away now.
Pairing: Draco/Ginny
Summary: Draco introduces Ginny to Club Amortentia, where inhibitions are lost, and things progress in a thoroughly ridiculous and sweaty manner. Much smut, and fluff, and absolutely no angst. My first PWP. :)
A/N: Many, many thanks to Leanne for beta-ing this for me.

----

It was 5:49 on a Friday evening, and Ginny had never been so glad to see a workweek end. Work was rarely this demanding in her office of the Department of Mysteries (which was only referred to as Office 4a), but she and her colleague, Draco Malfoy, had received a large assortment of cursed objects early in the week, and the items had needed to be thoroughly analyzed, cataloged, and some de-spelled. Some of the magic on the items had been appallingly Dark, and it had been stressful for Ginny to work with them. They worked regularly with spells of a Dark nature, (something that would no doubt horrify her friends and family had they known) but the anniversary of the Chamber incident had been this week, and the memory of Tom had weighed heavily on her mind.

Her family and friends would no doubt also be horrified to know that she worked closely with Draco Malfoy, but they got on very well, if one could overlook their occasional outbursts of temper, which they did. There were never any apologies, just icy silence and then a few hours later the squabble would be forgotten. It was a system that had worked well for two years now.

When she had learned all those years ago that her work partner would be Draco-sodding-Malfoy, she had nearly turned down the position. No matter that it was a dream of a job (she was an Unspeakable!); surely it wouldn’t be worth it when she had to work day in day out with Malfoy. Though after one off hand comment from him regarding her abilities, and she had taken the challenge. She had, after all, earned this position. After a few tense weeks, and a near death experience (Draco’s fault) with a cursed candlestick, they’d found that they worked rather well together. A few months later, and she was tentatively counting him amongst her friends. He was an all right bloke, though still alarmingly snobbish and self-absorbed.

Ginny glanced over her desk at him. He was carefully placing the last of the objects in a velvet-lined box that would go to storage. Draco would probably be going out tonight. On most Friday’s he would regale her with obnoxious and sometimes crude stories of what his weekend would entail, but today had been too stressful for that. Ginny didn’t party like he did on the weekends. Occasionally she would go to a pub with Hermione, or out dancing with Luna, but it had been months since she’d been out. She felt itchy and restless after this hellish week, and was in need of some release. Maybe she would floo Luna when she got home. A few drinks and some idle flirting with cute wizards was just what she needed. But then she remembered that Luna was currently in Sweden doing research for the Quibbler. Hermione wasn’t an option either, as an invite for Hermione meant that Ron and Harry would tag along.

But maybe she could go out with Draco. She knew they would have a decent time together. They spent upwards of sixty hours a week in each others presence without going completely mad, and they even went out to lunch together occasionally. Drinks and dancing wouldn’t be much different. He’d probably just laugh at her suggestion anyway, and the only other option was a glass of wine at home, so she gathered her Gryffindor courage, and asked, “What are you doing tonight?”

He paused in the act of pulling his coat on, and smiled wryly, “Why?”

“Do you want to go to a club or something?”

He smiled as if he’d just won a bet. “Are you asking me out, Weasley?”

She rolled her eyes. It wasn’t laughing, but it was close, “No. I just feel like going out, and I know you’re probably going to anyway. I thought I could tag along.”

He crossed his arms across his chest and smirked. “You’re too much of a prude to go out with me, Weasley.”

“I am not a prude!”

Draco arched an eyebrow at her.

“You don’t know everything about me, Draco Malfoy.” Hell, she was Ginny Weasley. Survivor of a war. Prankstress extraordinaire. She had all the daring of Fred and George wrapped up in her tiny unassuming frame. She could handle anything. And she definitely wasn’t a prude. Hell, she’d had three serious boyfriends, and that one one-night-stand that she’d prefer not to think about. And there was that time she’d made out with Luna on a dare. Prude… ha. She’d tell him that Luna story and he’d have to re-think that statement.

“I know that you’re not the kind of girl who goes to Knockturn Alley every weekend. I’d have seen you there.”

Her eyes widened a bit. Knockturn Alley? No, she was most certainly not that kind of girl. Knockturn had changed a bit since the war. It wasn’t the Dark Arts den any longer, but a long winding street filled with seedy pubs, dance clubs, strip joints, and Merlin knows what else. She and Luna had always stuck to the clubs on Diagon…

“You’re probably the kind of girl who has a pint with her brothers in the Leaky Cauldron before going home to your flat filled with cats,” he smirked.

“I don’t have cats.” But the other part was perfectly true. She regularly spent an hour or two after work with Fred and George, and then returned home to her flat to curl up in her pajamas with a nice book. “Well,” said Ginny defiantly, “Maybe I need a change.”

Draco looked at her carefully, sweeping his eyes up and down her body, before locking with her eyes again. She licked her lips uncomfortably. “Alright then. But I’m going to pick out your dress for tonight.”

“What? Why? I can pick something out.”

“Weasley, just let me do it, alright? Trust me.”

Trust him? Trust Draco Malfoy? That sounded ridiculous. They may have been working closely together for two years now, but she wasn’t sure how she felt about him choosing clothing for her. She heard a little voice in her head say, “Just give it up Ginevra. Go with the flow.”

She nodded.

“Excellent. I’ll pick you up at nine. See you then,” and he turned to leave.

“Wait! Do you know where I live?”

He turned to give her an exasperated look.

“Okay… okay. See you at nine.”

“It’s a date,” he drawled, and left.

A date? Had she just bullied Draco Malfoy into taking her on a date? No, of course not. This was just two… friends going out together. Not a date.

----

She was showered and made up by nine o’clock, tapping her foot impatiently in her fluffy white bathrobe as she waited for Draco-bloody-Malfoy, who thought that she had become his own personal Wendy the Witch doll. A knock sounded at the door at 9:10, and she whipped the door open to find a perfectly polished Malfoy proffering a garment bag and a shoebox.

He didn’t even say hello. He just shoved the items into her arms and said, “You’d better have the right underwear for that dress. I wasn’t about to go picking out knickers for you… though,” he added, as he inspected her chest, “you may not need a bra.”

She huffed indignantly. What the hell? There was absolutely nothing wrong with the size of her chest. She was slightly on the small side, sure, but honestly. “Hello, to you too,” she said sarcastically.

He sat gracefully down on her couch and waved a hand negligently at her. “Go get dressed.”

She rolled her eyes, “You know, I would have been dressed already, but someone thought I wasn’t capable of picking out my own clothes!”

“Just put the damn dress on.”

“Fine.”

She stalked off to her bedroom and shut the door forcefully behind her. She ought to have known that this night would be anything but pleasant. And then it got worse. She unzipped the garment bag and gasped at the dress within. It was short. Short and strapless. Gods, but she’d be all flesh in this thing. And if she bent over? Well, everyone would be able to see… well, everything.

“I can’t wear this!” she shouted.

“Oh, sweet Salazar, Weasley,” he called back, “Quit being a prude.”

She huffed. So it was a challenge, was it? Fine. She’d wear the slut dress. That would show him.

She shimmied into it, and to her surprise, it fit her like a glove. He did seem to know something about women’s sizes then. The shoes were, ah - of course - three inch black stilettos. Was he going to try to sell her services in Knockturn Alley? She teetered slightly in the shoes as she walked to her full-length mirror. And then she gasped. Damn, but she looked hot. She turned to the side, and smiled a bit. Really, drop dead gorgeous. Ha! The slinky black dress hugged her curves, and the straight cut of the top hid all her cleavage, which was a welcome surprise. Her legs looked about a mile long, which was fantastic, because she’d always thought her legs looked rather stubby.

She may have to make Malfoy shop for her more often.

She walked to the door, wobbling only slightly and opened it wearing a shit-eating grin. She’d show him for making her look so sexy. He’d swallow his own tongue. She smirked at him, still lounging on her couch, and struck a pose in the doorway.

“Is that how you’re going to wear your hair?”

That’s all he had to say? “Yes,” she said icily, “What the hell is wrong with my hair?”

“You’re hopeless, Weasley,” he said, walking towards her and pulling his wand.

“What are you going to do with that?” she asked, alarmed.

“Just turn around,” he said, exasperated.

She frowned warily, but did as he asked.

“You’re lucky that my mother was such a hoverer,” he said.

“Why?”

“She used to make me help her with her hair before social events,” he said, and she laughed a bit at the thought of Malfoy setting his mum’s hair in curlers. Draco muttered a spell under his breath and her long stick straight hair transformed itself into luxurious red waves. She pulled on a long lock and held it in front of her face. Nice.

It was becoming infuriatingly clear that Draco Malfoy was better at being a girl than she was.

He put his hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him. He appraised her silently, sweeping his eyes up and down. She felt rather nervous at his intense look, and tugged futilely on the hem of the dress. He caught her eyes again, and she raised her eyebrows. “Well?” she asked, “Am I good enough to be seen in public with you?”

“You’ll do.”

She fought the urge to throw something at him.

-----

They apparated to Diagon Alley, and the first thing Ginny did was stumble on the cobblestones. Draco caught her before she fell. She would have thanked him, but his response to her lousy footing was, “God, Weasley, how old are you? Don’t you know how to walk in heels yet?”

He took her hand and led her to the entrance of Knockturn Alley. She tried to pull away, feeling rather angry with him, but he just twined their fingers together and held tighter.

“Why are you holding my hand?”

“I’m not about to let you go and skin your knees.” Well, that was rather thoughtful, though she heard the veiled insult clearly.

They continued on down Knockturn, and Ginny’s eyes greedily gobbled up everything she saw. There was so much… neon. Flashing lights proclaimed, “Sex, sex, sex,” and, “Ladies Night,” and, “Weird Sisters, Tonight!” It was like she’d stepped into a world where Fred and George did everyone’s advertising. It was overwhelming, and she found herself nearly shrinking into Draco’s side whenever something shocked her. Which was often. When she realized that he was smirking at her, she stopped and self-consciously straightened her spine and looked haughtily at him. His smirk widened into a grin.

“And here we are,” he said, stopping suddenly, causing Ginny to trip slightly again. He pulled her upright, and Ginny froze at the hazy pink sign above the ominous black door.

“Club Amortentia?” she squeaked, “You brought me to a sex club?” She may not frequent this part of town, but everyone had heard of Club Amortentia, and how the place descended into an all out orgy by dawn, whether the patrons really wanted it to or not.

Draco spared her a bored glance, “It’s a dance club, Ginny. And it happens to be my favorite one.” He pulled on her hand, trying to lead her on, but Ginny held her ground.

“I can’t go in there!” she hissed.

“Why not?” Draco said incredulously.

She gaped at him. What on earth was she doing here anyway? She ought to have turned herself right around when he first led her down Knockturn Alley. Nice girls didn’t go to Knockturn Alley! It may not be filled to the brim with dark magic shops any longer, but it was still chock full of sinful things. They’d passed a Polyjuice Sex Club on the way here for Merlin’s sake! Ginny hadn’t even known such a thing existed! And that wasn’t even counting the many strip clubs they’d passed. She looked around, searching desperately for a way out… and dear Merlin, were those people having sex up against that building? She watched in disgusted fascination for a moment before she registered that Draco was tugging at her hand again.

He smirked down at her, and glanced over to the copulating couple.

“Are you scared, little Gryffindor?” his voice taunted her. And yes, she was bloody scared. She wanted to leave, but there was no way she was walking back down Knockturn Alley by herself, and she knew that Draco wouldn’t walk with her, at least not without teasing her some more, and that wasn’t even mentioning the looks he’d give her at work.

She growled in response.

“Scared of what exactly?” he mused, “Scared of what you’ll see, or of what you’ll do?”

Merlin, she hadn’t even considered that! What if she threw herself at Malfoy in there? They had to work together! She shook a bit and made a movement to get herself away from him, but his hands held her shoulders firmly and he looked into her eyes again. He looked slightly contrite.

“Look, Ginny,” he said, and what was with him suddenly calling her ‘Ginny,’ anyhow? She’d been nothing but ‘Weasley’ since the war, and the only time he’d used her first name was once on the battlefield when a Death Eater had thrown a hex at her back. “The club isn’t really a sex club. They just pump undirected amortentia potion steam in. All it does is make you feel dizzy and content. Maybe a little turned on. It’s not like you’ll walk in there and loose all control over yourself. People dance, and some of them do have sex. You’ll be fine if you want to be fine.”

She calmed a bit at his words.

“We don’t have to go in if you don’t want. I’ll take you home.”

Home. What was waiting for her there? Another Friday night curled up on her sofa with a book and a mug of hot chocolate? No. She had gone out with Malfoy to have some fun and do something different for a change. This was just a bit outside of her expectations, that’s all.

“No,” she said firmly, and calmly now, “Let’s go in.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

He smiled, and walked her towards the door.

Ginny had a sudden thought, “Draco?”

He stopped and something flashed in his eyes.

“If it’s dull, can we just go to a pub or something?”

He snorted and then smiled softly at her, “We don’t have to go in, Ginny.”

“No! Just… if it’s dull?”

“Sure. If it’s dull,” he said. She didn’t think she’d ever seen such an expression on his face. He was all hard lines and smirks for her at work, never this gentle and nice.

Why was he being nice?

Draco placed his hand at the small of her back and led her through the door into Club Amortentia, and the start of what would be the most bizarre night of Ginny Weasley’s life.

At the threshold of the club she was assaulted with the distinct smells she associated with amortenita potion: the air just after a rainstorm, sandalwood, and the musky scent of a man’s cologne. She inhaled deeply and sighed. A dazed, contented feeling stole over her. This wasn’t bad, she thought. She could handle this.

Draco led her over to a small table and gestured for her to sit. “I’ll get us some drinks,” he said over the pounding of the music. She nodded, and gazed about dreamily to take in her surroundings.

The club was… well, sexy. Red velvet couches with wide seats were half hidden in little alcoves along one side of the club. A few sets of tables and chairs were sprinkled throughout the space. A very long bar was situated on the far wall, where little tendrils of potion steam emanated from the base of the shelves obscuring the rows and rows of bottles on them. The dance floor was right in the center of the club. The floor must have been grated; because that was where the majority of the potion steam was coming from, twisting lazily up and around the dancers writhing on the dance floor. The steam itself seemed to take on a life of it’s own, curling around outstretched arms, and in one case, hanging about the head of a blonde girl like a halo. All the candles lighting the space were in red and pink glass vases, which just served to intensify the naturally pink color of the steam.

Ginny decided that she liked it here. A lot.

Draco came back to the table with a scotch on the rocks and some pink concoction in a martini glass. She grinned up at him, suddenly very glad that he’d gotten her to do this.

“Feeling better?” he asked.

“Yep,” she said, and sipped delicately at the drink. It was lovely. The club was fabulous, he was gorgeous as usual, and she was fucking hot. Everything was just lovely.

“You’ve been here before?”

He nodded, and glanced at the dance floor.

She smirked and asked impishly, “Ever do it on one of those couches?”

He choked on his drink and she laughed. “That a ‘No.’ then?”

“That’s a no.” His eyes took on a challenging and predatory look and he said, “I’m a gentleman, Ginny. I’d take the girl home first.”

Her mouth felt a little dry, so she sipped her drink. “Oh.”

They finished their drinks, and he stood and held out a hand to her, “Dance?”

She smiled up at him, and now he was looking at her like she was something delectable. It was about damn time. She had been beginning to wonder about him. She put her hand in his and let him pull her out of her chair. He pulled too hard, and she stumbled into his chest. At the way he was smirking, she’d have to say that it was intentional. But she only rolled her eyes and led the way to the dance floor.

The music was thumping sensuously, and she could feel it echoing in her veins. He put a hand on the small of her back, and they swayed and flowed with the ever-changing movements of the crush of dancers. She’d never danced quite like this. When she and Luna would go out the dance floors were never this crowded, and she was never pressed into other people as she was now. It was like the whole mess of them, every last dazed and drunken person, moved as one. It was utterly intoxicating, and Ginny felt as if she would float away on the feeling. Draco’s chest was hard beneath her fingers, and she watched wonderingly as her other hand strayed to his neck to tangle in his hair. Well, that was strange. Stranger still that he wasn’t growling at her to stop, no, his eyes were sliding closed and he was leaning down to place a wet kiss on her shoulder.

It must be the effects of the potion steam, she thought. The air was thick with pink twisting fumes on the dance floor, and the scents were heady and dizzying. She could barely put a coherent thought together, let alone stop her body from pressing even closer to his or her fingers from twirling around strands of his hair. His hands caressed the skin of her back and shoulders, and skimmed the length of her arms. She could feel a familiar low buzzing beginning to grow inside her, and she twined herself closer to him. They danced and touched each other chastely for ten minutes more, but his mouth never strayed to hers. She was half-tempted to just do it herself. It would be lovely to kiss him like this, with the world pulsing around them, but then he pulled away and tugged on her hand so she would follow him back to a table.

Back at the table she breathed in deeply, and most of the dazed feeling that she’d had on the dance floor left her, though she did still wish that things would have gone a little further on the dance floor. His lips just looked perfect, and she knew that they would feel perfect on her own. She felt so charged, and so unbelievably horny, that it was a wonder she hadn’t jumped him yet.

It was a wonder she had gone two years without fucking him. He was gorgeous, and oozed sexuality, and she was positive that sex with him would be fantastic. But aside from a few heated arguments at work, that took a strange turn from whatever project they were working on to become a confusing mess of metaphors, she had never even considered having sex with him. What on earth had she been thinking? Or, rather, not thinking?

“See that?” he said, and discreetly pointed to one of the red velvet couches. A woman was lying on her back, her mouth open in ecstasy, while her lover hovered over her, clearly in the act of curling his fingers inside of her. Ginny felt her cheeks begin to blush, and a rush of heat between her thighs. She may have been a little jealous of that woman. She looked at Draco, who was smirking, and presumably waiting for her to say something priggish. She raised her eyebrows at him and shrugged. He looked mildly impressed, but mostly disbelieving of her sincerity.

“See, Malfoy? I’m no prude.”

“Prove it, Weasley.”

“Hey, I’m in the slut dress, I’m at the sex club, what more do you want from me?”

“Prove it,” he said slowly, his eyes sparkling with amusement, and quite possibly, anticipation.

Ginny cast about for the perfect example and her eyes alighted on the dance floor. She gazed at the pretty blonde girl with the halo of pink potion steam, and thought, sure, why not? She raised her eyebrows at Draco cockily, and stood. His mouth had fallen open slightly, and he looked utterly stunned. She smirked. Ginny made her way back to the dance floor and weaved through the dancers until she came upon her quarry. The blonde was swaying with her eyes closed, a look of pure bliss on her pale face. Ginny grinned and began to dance with the girl, who opened her eyes and smiled dazedly at Ginny, before wrapping her arms around her neck. They danced slowly and sensuously, and Ginny felt herself become very aroused. It was all so deliciously naughty! When she caught Draco’s entranced stare from across the room, she winked at him and felt a rush of heat when he licked his lips. She focused her attention back on the girl, and leaned in to kiss her jaw. The girl tipped her head back, and Ginny nipped at her neck. The girl moaned, and pulled Ginny’s mouth to her own. It was rather nice, Ginny thought, as their tongues touched. The girl was a very good kisser. She opened her eyes, and found that Draco had left the table and was standing directly behind the girl, his eyes locked on Ginny’s. Sweet Merlin.

He tapped the girl on her shoulder, who looked round, still smiling. She nodded contentedly at Draco and weaved away from them. Ginny found that she could not move. He was staring hungrily at her, and she felt as if her insides were on fire. He moved like lightening, wrapped his arms tightly around her waist and kissed her hard and long on the mouth. Ginny knew she was done for at the first touch of his tongue against her lips. She opened her mouth to his, and he kissed her greedily, like he’d been waiting ages to do it. If the girl had been a very good kisser, then Draco was fan-fucking-tastic. Her knees were going to give out on her at any moment, and she tightened her grip around his shoulders, and weaved her fingers through his hair. His tongue swept through her mouth, and he nibbled on her lips, and she couldn’t help moaning and pressing herself more tightly against him. She could feel him, hard and hot, digging into her stomach. And, heaven help her, but that was not where she wanted him. Not at all. Though it was good enough for now.

His hands were straying into dangerous and delicious territory, down her backside and pulling her dress out of place. His hand was cupping her bum, touching her knickers, for Merlin’s sake, and it was oh-so-wrong to feel this damn good about her bum hanging out of her dress in public. The part of her that was reveling in the naughtiness wished that he’d take it a bit further, move his fingers just a bit and pull aside the scrap of lace that stood between wanting and making her writhe right there on the dance floor. She could tell he was toying with the idea too, if his daring fingers were any indication. She tightened her arms around his neck, and swept her tongue through his mouth. He groaned, and to her annoyance, he pulled the hem of her dress back into place. She pulled away from his mouth and frowned at him.

He looked down at her, his eyes nearly black with desire. He smiled slightly, as though he couldn’t quite believe his luck, and kissed her again.

This was just… far too nice. She didn’t want nice. She’d had nice. She wanted dirty, and needy, and lustful. She wanted his fingers to hook under the hem of her dress. She wanted him to find her clit, and slide his fingers into her, and she wanted to come shuddering in his arms, standing weakly in the crush of people on the dance floor. But no, he was kissing her reverently instead, with his talented fingers curling around locks of her hair and his other hand rubbing light circles at the small of her back.

Despite herself, she sighed into his mouth.

Happily, this made him kiss her harder. His tongue teased hers, and she bit lightly on his lower lip. His hand slipped between them, and he flicked his thumb over her nipple. She replied with a feather light caress over the bulge in his pants. He pulled away, breathing heavily, and growled, “My place. Now.” She was all too happy to comply.

They stumbled awkwardly towards the floo, stopping every few feet to kiss and grope each other. They reached the mantle at last, and Draco shakily picked up the jar of floo powder, and poured a bit into her hand. “Say, Draco Malfoy’s flat,” he said, before grabbing her waist to kiss her once more. Thank the gods that they were really going to do this, she thought, and followed his directions to leave through the floo.

She stumbled out of the fire, and nearly fell on Draco’s luxurious shag rug. She considered taking the blasted shoes off, but decided that she’d rather have Draco do it. Maybe with his teeth…

She took a deep breath of air that was not choked with amortentia steam, and awful, frightening, terrible clarity flooded her senses. What in the bloody hell was she doing? Going home with Draco Malfoy? Her co-worker? The amazing bouncing ferret? Who, admittedly, was an amazing kisser, and whose hands had brought her to the tingly, hot feeling she was currently suffering, but… still. The fire blazed to life behind her, and she whirled around, knowing that any chance of escape had vanished.

Draco stepped smoothly from the fire, and brushed the ash from his shirt. He looked up, and noticed her wide eyes. He smirked slightly, and said, “Oh no, you don’t.” He grabbed her hips and kissed her hard. “I’ve been waiting too long for this for you to back out on me now.”

His actions and words caused the fire in the pit of her stomach to spring back to life. Okay, she was listening. He nibbled a path down her neck, and said into her skin, “I’m going to fuck you, Ginny. And you’re going to love it.”

Oh, she had no doubt that she would love it. She would love every sweaty moment. It was tomorrow morning that she was worried about, and the anxiety that would plague Sunday, and the all-encompassing awkwardness that would stretch through the workweek and beyond. But he was licking her collarbone, and his cock was pressed into her stomach again, and damn it all, but she wanted him inside of her. She wanted him naked and gasping. She wanted to writhe underneath him as he brought her to climax after climax.

Merlin help him if he didn’t get her off.

She pulled his face to hers, and kissed him. What the hell? She could always quit her job, right?

He grinned against her mouth and said, “That’s my girl.”

He was saying the strangest things tonight.

Draco led her down the hall, his mouth and hands hardly ever leaving her skin, to his bedroom, where he whirled them both around to press her up against the wall. His mouth nipped and licked down her neck, and her fingers tightened in his hair. She moaned, and then his mouth was back on hers and his hands were everywhere. Her skin was buzzing and hot, and she wondered if she’d come before he even touched her. At this rate she felt like it was a very real possibility. His hands were on her breasts, and his thumbs circled her nipples, and it felt so fucking good. She yanked his shirt from his trousers, because she needed to feel his skin, now. She ran her hands up his chest under the shirt. His skin was warm and smooth, and his chest was fantastically hard and toned. She couldn’t wait to lick every inch of it.

She worked on unbuttoning his shirt, which was much harder than it ought to have been, because her fingers were trembling with want. She pushed it off his shoulders and her fingers touched every inch of his chest. He was muscular and freakishly gorgeous. She scraped at one of his nipples and he groaned and shut his eyes. Her hand skimmed over his heart, and then back again because she’d noticed that it was just pounding. Was he nervous? She kissed his neck and his shoulders, and let her tongue explore his nipples and the smattering of pale hair on his chest. His hands pulled the hem of her dress up and then his fingers were touching her through the fabric of her very wet knickers. She pushed into his hand and sucked hard on his neck. This was so unbelievably good. He rubbed her in hard little circles and she yanked his head to hers. She plundered his mouth with her tongue and sucked his bottom lip into her mouth.

“You need to be naked now,” he said harshly, and his fingers tugged on the little zipper on the side of her dress. It slipped to the floor easily, and he stepped back to look at her. She was wearing nothing but her tiny knickers and the stilettos, and she forced herself not to blush under his intense scrutiny. He shuddered out a sigh and said, “You’re so fucking beautiful, Ginny.”

She tried to step from the dress, because she had to kiss him after that, and tripped once more in the blasted shoes, but this time it made him grin, and he said, “I don’t care if you do break your ankle, I’m still going to fuck you.” She couldn’t help giggling, and he laughed with her, pulling her to his chest. He led her away from the puddle of the dress, kissing her all the while. He pushed her down on the bed and brought her foot up and he slowly unwrapped the ribbon that tied around her ankle. Who knew that taking off shoes could be sexy? He kissed the top of her foot when he tossed the shoe aside, and repeated the actions with the other. Then, he knelt on the floor between her legs, and slowly pulled her knickers off. And, oh god, he was kissing the inside of her thighs, and then his mouth was there! He licked her slit with the point of his tongue, and her hands clutched desperately at the bedspread, and then he sucked her clit into his mouth, and geez, was that noise coming from her?

Sweet Mother of Merlin, he was far too good at this, she thought as she moaned and writhed beneath his mouth. He slid one long finger inside of her, and she could feel herself tightening around it. It was good, but not enough. Not nearly. He rubbed and licked and sucked on her folds and clit until she was a shivering mess on the bed, but he stopped short of making her come. When he pulled away, she made a noise of indignant frustration, and gasped, “What the fuck, Draco?”

He chuckled and said, “I want to look into your eyes when you come with me for the first time.”

Okay. So, that was probably the hottest thing he could have said to her right now.

Ginny sat up, and grabbed his cock through his trousers. He swayed a bit, and steadied himself with his hands on her shoulders. She undid his belt buckle, and stared up at him as she flicked the button undone and pulled the zipper down. His eyes were lidded and black with lust. His hand cupped her cheek in a strangely loving manner. She pulled his boxers slowly and carefully off his hips, and then he was naked before her. His cock was even perfect. She wrapped her hand around him and he groaned. She loved that sound, and the completely exposed expression on his face. She’d never seen him look so undone or quite this sexy, and she loved that she’d done it to him. She circled the head of his penis with her thumb, and he shuddered and pushed her hand away. She resisted the urge to smirk.

She took his hand from her cheek and kissed the inside of his palm, and asked, “Well? Are you going to fuck me now?”

Draco nodded, and said roughly, “Just give me a minute.” He bent over and kissed her mouth. It was sweet and gentle, and oddly more intimate than anything else they’d done so far. She never dreamed that she would see this side of him. She hadn’t even realized he was capable of being sweet, but here it was. His lips didn’t leave hers as he moved to climb onto the bed, and she shifted until they were in the middle of it. He was laying half on top of her, still kissing her in that romantic, completely maddening way. His thumb circled her nipple, and she moaned.

They moved until he was cradled between her thighs. He ran a finger over her slit, and rubbed her clit again. If he didn’t just do it soon, she was going to murder him. Painfully. But the threat came past her lips sounding more like, “Draco, please…”

“I love how you say my name,” he breathed, and thrust into her with one hard stroke.

Oh, yes… that was… perfect. Who was that idiotic girl who didn’t want this?

He stilled over her, and she opened her eyes to see him squeezing his eyes shut and biting his lip. Clearly he was on the verge of losing all control. Ginny rocked her hips, and he groaned.

“Gods, you feel perfect,” he said, and began to move. He took his time, and obviously relished her pleas and moans, because he smirked when she breathed his name and begged him to go faster. He slowed down, and somehow it was even better. She felt every last inch of him during those agonizingly slow thrusts.

Ginny wrapped her legs around his waist and clutched the headboard with white knuckled fingers. He bent his head to suck a nipple into his mouth. At her sharp cry, he sped up the pace, fairly pounding her into the mattress.

“Look at me Ginny,” he said. His darkened eyes arrested her, and she gasped. “Come for me, love,” he said.

It was as if he’d cast a spell. She flew over the edge, chanting his name and every deity she could think of, and he followed soon after moaning her name into her neck. After several long moments he rolled off her, still breathing heavily.

“Merlin,” Ginny gasped, “That was amazing.”

“Fucking incredible,” Draco agreed.

“We need to do that again.”

“Give me a minute,” he said, “Are you trying to kill me?”

She laughed, feeling light, and curled next to him, resting her head on his shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her and sighed. She traced circles and wavy patterns on his abdomen, and watched him grow hard again. She grinned wickedly, glad that he could keep up with her.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” he said.

“Really?” she asked, surprised.

“Yes.”

“How long?”

“Since the day we started working together,” he groaned as she lightly bit his nipple, “I was so pissed when I found out that I had to work with a Weasley, and then I was pissed that I had to work with a gorgeous girl who had a boyfriend. And then that bloody idiot broke up with you, and I was sure that I’d at least be a rebound shag, but noo…” he sucked in his breath when she wrapped her hand tightly around his cock.

“But you never asked me out,” she said, sliding down his body to get closer to her quarry. She rested between his legs and kissed the tip of his cock.

“I wasn’t about to be rejected by a Weasley,” he said harshly, when her tongue licked his length. She rolled her eyes at him, but continued on. “But then you asked me out.” She sucked him into her mouth, “Oh, Gods, Ginny…”

She bobbed her head up and down several times, and his fingers tightened in her hair. She released him with a soft popping sound, and said, “And what happened then?”

“I’ll tell you anything if you just keep doing that,” he said, and continued on, “I flooed Blaise and he said that I should bring you to Club Amortentia, to skew the odds in my favor.”

“Wait,” she said, releasing him again, “You’d never been there before tonight?”

“Don’t stop,” he said, “And no. Never. But I rather liked it. I think you did too… Gods, when you kissed that girl…” he moaned and she swirled her tongue around him. “Hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”

Oh, well, she was sure she could do better than that. She set about to prove it with a rather impressive finish to his blowjob.

Draco threw an arm over his eyes and groaned as he came again.

“I don’t think you’re allowed to be that good…”

“Aren’t you glad I am?” she asked cheekily.

He laughed and pulled her up so he could kiss her.

“Oh, and I put a tripping jinx on your shoes.”

“Why would you do that? I felt like an idiot,” she said, ”I should hex you.”

“It was a great excuse to touch you. I didn’t know this was going to happen.”

Ginny knew that this was the part where Draco was meant to kick her out of his bed and send her home. But instead he was pulling her to his chest, one arm slung carelessly over her hip. He buried his nose in her hair, and Ginny grinned. Draco was a post-sex cuddler.

“Quit smiling,” he said, and tweaked her nipple.

She gasped, and said, “But you’re just oh-so besotted with me.”

“Cheeky bint,” he muttered, and pulled her so they were pressed together.

“So Draco, what exactly are your intentions towards me?” she asked in a playful tone.

“Well, Ginny,” he replied with a smirk, “First, I intend for you to stay the weekend,” he kissed her lightly on the lips, “during which time, we will only leave this bed when absolutely necessary.” He kissed her again. “And on Monday, we will go to work, and I will try valiantly to keep my hands off you, but I will fail spectacularly around lunchtime.” She giggled and kissed him, already looking forward to it. “And after work, I’m going to take you to dinner. A proper date, not like those sad little lunches we’ve had in the past.”

“How will it differ?” Ginny asked in a mock serious tone.

“Well, there will be hand holding, and gazing sappily into each other’s eyes, and very inappropriate touching under the table cloth.” She laughed, and he grinned with her. He pulled her close, and kissed her deeply.

“And then?” she asked.

“And then, I will use my considerable charms to convince you to come home with me again. And you’ll stay,” he said simply, “forever.”

“Forever?” she asked quietly, a note of apprehension in her voice.

He grinned and kissed her again, “Not to worry, love, my considerable charms will win you over on that point too.”

She had no doubt.

-----
A/N: The mention of the polyjuice sex club comes from Cassandra Claire’s Draco trilogy, which I don’t think you can find on the net anymore. Club Amortentia is all my own, but I wouldn’t hesitate to share.

Harry Potter: The Cellar (1/2)

2007-05-31T23:36:00.000-07:00

Title: The Cellar
Rating: T
Pairing: Draco/Ginny
Spoilers: HBP
Word Count: 4,232
Summary: While being held captive by Death Eaters, Draco & Ginny learn some things about each other.

----

They had been locked in the cellar for two weeks.

Two weeks of living in very close quarters with the insufferable Draco Malfoy. Ginny would have preferred the Cruciatus curse. At the moment she was facing the wall in a corner of the cellar.

“Don’t you dare turn around Weasley,” Draco said.

Ginny repressed the urge to scream. It would do her no good. “I have no desire to see your bits, Malfoy.” She couldn’t help that her nose wrinkled at the sound of him peeing in the bucket the Death Eaters had so kindly left for their use. His clothes rustled as he covered himself back up.

“All right.”

She sighed deeply, but didn’t turn around. She flattened her palms against the damp stone and rested her forehead between them. How much longer would they keep her here?

Two weeks ago she had been snatched off the street in Diagon Alley while she and her parents were out buying her school things. She was the only Weasley going to Hogwarts this year. Molly and Arthur had been discussing their remaining funds with their heads close together over the money pouch. Ginny had wandered a few feet away to look at the kittens in the window of Magical Menagerie, when a hand had covered her mouth and she’d felt a familiar tug behind her naval.

She couldn’t believe that she’d been kidnapped. The masked Death Eaters had carelessly tossed her into the cellar, ignoring her cries that she wasn’t worth anything; Harry had broken up with her, she wasn’t in the Order, she knew nothing.

Ginny had pulled herself off the floor, knowing that her knees would be bruised and set about pounding at the door, pleading. She had stopped abruptly when she heard a soft, mocking laugh coming from inside the cellar.

Draco Malfoy had been sitting on a pile of straw looking cool as anything, and he was laughing at her. “Shouldn’t have told them that Weasley. Now they have no reason not to kill you.”

She had flown at him, punching every part of him that she could reach. But he was much taller and stronger than she, and had pinned her beneath him, holding her wrists hostage in the moldy hay before she could inflict any satisfying damage. “If you care to notice Weasley,” he said harshly, “neither of us is in the Dark Lord’s favor, so please – stop - hitting me.”

Draco had then released her wrists and rolled away from her. They lay side by side and Ginny had willed herself not to cry.

When they had both regained their breath and Ginny felt her anger with Draco and the tears abate she began questioning him.

“How long have you been here?”

“Since this morning.”

“Where are we?”

Draco had sighed, as if he wasn’t going to answer her, but then said, “Malfoy Manor.”

“They locked you up in your own house?” Ginny didn’t know why this should surprise her.

“Yes.”

“Is there any way out?”

“Not without a wand… and a small army.”

For the rest of the first day they had said nothing to each other.

The next two weeks had passed without any contact from their captors. Their meals (bread, cheese, and water) appeared twice a day. The waste in the bucket vanished every morning. There was a showerhead in the corner with a pull-chain that spouted very cold water. They slept shivering in the hay. The candles which floated in midair above their heads never went out or burned down. The door never opened, and they dreaded what would happen when it did.

They had nothing to do but talk to one another, and it wasn’t an idea that either of them relished.

“You almost killed my brother,” Ginny spat.

“And your precious Potter almost killed me,” Draco retorted.

“You were going to Crucio him!”

Draco scowled.

“And now Dumbledore is dead because of you!”

“No!” Draco snapped, “Dumbledore is not dead because of me! That’s why I’m a prisoner in my own home, you little Weasel.”

Ginny glowered at him.

That night Ginny woke to the sounds of Draco quietly sobbing. She debated with herself for several minutes, but when it became obvious that he wasn’t going to stop anytime soon, she crawled over to him.

“Go away Weasley,” he choked.

“Oh shut up Malfoy.” She pulled his arm away from his body and arranged herself so that her head was pillowed on his shoulder and her arm wrapped around his middle. She rolled her eyes at how stiff he was beneath her, but eventually he did relax and his hand came to rest on her back. She snuggled into him. He was warm. If he let her, she’d sleep just like this. It was so cold in the cellar.

After several minutes he said, “I did everything He asked. Everything. But I couldn’t kill him. I just… couldn’t.” His chest began shaking again as he tried to repress his sobs. Ginny sighed and held him tightly, wondering why on earth she was doing this.

“He was so mad at my father for getting caught, and He was going to kill my mother. I was willing to do anything to stop Him from doing that.”

Merlin help her, but she was actually feeling a little sorry for Draco Malfoy.

His tears subsided eventually, and his thumb began absently rubbing circles on her back. It felt incredibly nice. It was something that she definitely should not be feeling, but at the moment she didn’t care. She closed her eyes and evened her breathing out to match his.

“Tom is such a bastard,” she murmured.

Draco’s hand stilled, “Who the hell is Tom?”

“Tom Riddle,” Ginny explained sleepily, “Voldemort. He’s a half-blood, you know. What a bloody hypocrite--”

Draco sat up suddenly, dropping her head roughly to the hay, “He’s a half-blood?” He gaped down at her.

Ginny rolled her eyes; she should have known that his snobbery would win out over everything else. “You should really get all your facts straight before you go kowtowing to a snake-man.”

Draco frowned at her, “How do you know that anyway?”

Ginny narrowed her eyes and sat up, “As if you don’t know, Malfoy.”

“Don’t know bloody what?!” he stood over her in a way that he probably thought was menacing.

She crossed her arms over her chest, “The bloody diary! The one your father gave me.”

“Why would my father ever give a Weasley anything?”

Ginny could nearly feel him forming an insult to follow that up, so she said, “The Chamber of Secrets! You daft prick.”

He frowned at her in such a way that Ginny knew that he honestly didn’t have any idea what she was talking about.

“In my first year your father gave me a diary that belonged to Voldemort when he was at Hogwarts. He’d put a part of his soul in it and whenever I wrote in it, he…” she stopped. No one knew this story. Dumbledore had managed to hush it all up and here she was spilling all to Draco-bloody-Malfoy.

But he was sitting down beside her again, the expression on his face showing that he’d already put the pieces together.

“It was you. You opened the Chamber.” He looked at her as though he’d never seen her before.

The urge to run was so strong, but there was no where for her to go.

“Yes. He was possessing me all year.”

“And you didn’t tell anyone?” he asked incredulously.

“I didn’t know!” Ginny said hotly. “I didn’t remember doing any of it. I just knew that I had gaps in my memory, and I wanted so badly to fit in. Ron was ignoring me, and I wasn’t making any friends, and I was making a fool of myself in front of Harry. I didn’t want to make it worse by everyone thinking I was going mad too!”

Draco scowled at the mention of Harry.

“And I liked Tom! He was my best friend, as insane as that sounds. But I figured it out, that it was his fault that I was getting sick and couldn’t remember doing things, so I threw the diary away, but then Harry found it.”

“And that’s when he rescued you from the Chamber?” It was odd how alarmed he sounded.

“No, then I stole it back, and wrote to Tom that I’d figured it out, and apparently it was enough for him to possess me again… and then Harry rescued me.”

Ginny stared down at her hands which were twisting in her lap. She glanced up at Draco. He was staring fixedly at the wall.

“I can’t believe my father,” he said. “He knows that… that thing isn’t even pureblood and yet he bows down to it, and he gives eleven-year-old girls enchanted diaries.”

Ginny looked down at her hands again. She was exhausted.

“Weasley.”

She looked up.

“I’m sorry my father did that to you,” he said quietly.

She nodded, surprised. There wasn’t anything for her to say.

He lay down next to her in the hay and held his arms up hesitantly. “Come on, Weasley,” he said, “It’s bloody cold in here.” Her lip quirked and she slipped down beside him. Something near to contentment stole through her when he wrapped his arms around her.

She woke in the same position they had fallen asleep in. For a moment she let herself enjoy the feeling of being held, with Draco’s breath fluttering the hair at her temple. She felt him waking up, stretching his body little by little, then rolling over, so his arm wrapped securely around her waist. She allowed herself to be maneuvered, as this new position afforded her a chance to examine his face. His eyelashes and brows were slightly darker blonde than his hair. His nose wasn’t very pointy, she thought, it fit his face well, with his high cheekbones. There were worry lines around his mouth, and if he wasn’t careful about frowning and scowling less there would be deep lines on his forehead. It made her want to laugh. Draco’s vanity would never allow for it.

She heard a soft pop behind her, which was their morning meal snapping into existence. Her stomach growled. She tried to move away from him, but Draco moaned in protest and pulled her closer. She smirked. He’d kick himself if he knew what he was doing right now.

Ginny pulled herself away and Draco’s eyebrows furrowed together, clearly unhappy at losing his warm body pillow.

She retrieved the breakfast tray and sat it down next to him. “Draco,” she said softly, “Breakfast is here.”

He groaned and stretched, yawning deeply before bothering to open his eyes. She waved a chunk of bread tantalizingly in front of his face and he smirked at her.

“Fine,” he said, “but I was having a lovely dream. We were sitting by the lake at Hogwarts and the house elves had brought us down a picnic.”

Ginny smiled, “Sounds nice.”

Draco plucked the bread from her fingers and gestured lazily with it, “There was buttered toast, and eggs, and kippers, and bacon—“

“Okay, you have to stop.”

They ate the food before them in silence. The bread wasn’t warm, but it wasn’t stale either, and the cheese didn’t have mold growing on it. It was better than Ginny thought the Death Eaters would give their prisoners.

“How long do you think they’ll keep us down here,” Ginny asked quietly.

Draco glanced up at her and swallowed, “Well, I’m surprised I’m not dead yet, so they’re probably using me to manipulate my mother or father. Until they mess up or die, I suppose I’ll be okay. They’ll probably keep you here until they want to use you to torment Potter.”

Ginny nodded. It was a grim prospect. They’d probably torture her and kill her in front of Harry. For the first few days the terror of the idea was overwhelming, but she had come to think of the pain they could inflict or her death with a clinical detachment.

“He’ll come for you, won’t he?” Draco asked quietly. He wasn’t looking at her.

“I think so,” Ginny said, not sure if she wanted Harry to. He’d likely do something impulsive and get himself killed.

Draco sighed ruefully, “I never thought I’d be wishing to see Potter’s face.”

Ginny snorted.

“Of course, I’ll be going to Azkaban if we get out of here…” he trailed off, looking morosely at his hands.

Ginny frowned. He would have to go to Azkaban. He had hurt Katie Bell, poisoned her brother, allowed Death Eaters into Hogwarts, and attempted to kill Dumbledore. Maybe she had a soft spot for evil, but Ginny didn’t think Draco deserved to be locked away. He was just trying to save his mother, after all.

She reached her hand out to grasp his. He looked up at her questioningly.

“You’ll have to run,” she said softly, scared at herself for meaning every word.

He clutched her hand and nodded, “I’ll have to run.”

The next few days passed in relative peace. Any sniping or insulting was done in good humor. At the end of this imprisonment, Ginny thought, she would miss him. Harry had never been one for easy banter.

“Have you ever been in love?” Ginny asked.

“No,” said Draco, “Are you in love with Potter?”

Ginny thought for a moment, “I like him. A lot. I guess I should love him.”

Draco rolled his eyes, “You can’t make yourself love someone, Weasley.”

“No, I mean, I’ve had a crush on him for so long, so you think I would be mad about him. But… I don’t know… being with Harry is just comfortable,” said Ginny.

Draco snorted, “You make Potter sound like a pair of slippers.”

Ginny giggled and then sobered, “But he broke up with me, so I guess it doesn’t matter.”

Draco scowled, “You’ve been making an arse out of yourself for years over him. He’s a bloody idiot.”

“I’m sure there’s someone who’s made an arse out of themselves over you too, Malfoy.”

“There has,” said Draco, “Pansy Parkinson.”

Ginny wrinkled her nose in distaste.

“I agree with you, but at least I acknowledged her.”

“And Harry didn’t acknowledge me?” asked Ginny defensively.

Draco considered her, “We’re going to die soon anyway, right?”

Ginny raised her eyebrows at him, waiting.

“I’ve been watching you for years, Weasley. There you were, this poor, pretty little red head, laying yourself out there for Potter and he gave you nothing in return. It was maddening. He’d done nothing to deserve you or your attention, but there it was. It made me sick.” Draco lip curled at the memory, “It made me hate him all the more.”

Ginny cocked her head to one side, slightly disturbed, “What do you mean you’ve been watching me?”

“In your first year you’d sit next to the Golden Trio at meals, but they never knew you were there. You sent Harry a valentine, and get well cards, and stared at him whenever he walked by, followed him wherever you could.” Ginny just stared at him.

“Then it seemed like you got over it. You had your own friends, and started dating Corner and Thomas. Then you were dating Potter. Finally got him, eh, Weasley? Finest moment of your life?”

She would have smacked him if it would have done her any good, but as she may die here with Draco Malfoy she settled on an icy glare.

“I wouldn’t say finest, but we did have a pretty great first kiss,” said Ginny loftily.

“Oh really?” said Draco, his voice turning into a caress, “Did he fumble, Ginny? Did his glasses get in the way? Was it a peck? Was there tongue? Did he know what he was doing, Ginny? Did it turn your knees to jelly?”

The deep, rumbling quality of his voice made goose bumps rise on her skin. Her lips parted slightly and she felt her heart beat faster. She scolded her body for going against her better sense.

She saw a light in Draco’s eyes turn on, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking. He crawled towards her slowly, like a tiger stalking prey. She couldn’t move. White hot desire shot through her system, and he smirked at her. It was becoming much too hard to breathe. Did she want him to kiss her? Her body screamed yes, even as her mind told her to take a second and regroup. But there was no time for that.

Draco knelt directly in front of her. His eyes never left hers as his fingers brushed her cheek on their way to cup the back of her neck. Ginny’s breath caught. His eyes flicked to her lips and back again before claiming them with his own.

It was electric, Ginny decided. His lips were soft and warm, and he deepened the kiss without any resistance from her at all. When their tongues touched he moaned and threaded his fingers though her hair. And then Ginny gave in completely. Her fingers clutched at the front of his robes, needing him to be closer, but even that wasn’t enough. Pleasure zinged though her system. She whimpered when one of his arms wrapped around her waist to pull her flush against him. He felt amazing… the hard flat planes of his body crushed her curves, and she craved more.

His lips left hers and started kissing a trail down her throat. He sucked lightly at the spot where her neck met her shoulder and she couldn’t hold it in any longer.

“Merlin, Draco….”

He pulled back slightly and smirked at her. She found that she didn’t mind his smirk at all. “How was that for a first kiss, Weasley?”

She licked her lips, and he inhaled sharply. It was her turn to smirk. “It was pretty good.”

“Come on. Pretty good? That was the best kiss you’ve ever had.”

“There’s room for improvement,” she said haughtily.

He smiled widely, and this time she kissed him.

Three days later, she was woken by the sound of someone fiddling with the doorknob. She shot up, pulling Draco up with her. He’d been wrapped around her quite cozily.

“Ginny, what the hell?” he mumbled, and then he saw it too.

The door was creaking slowly open. Ginny felt terror grip her heart. This was it. One of them, both of them maybe, would die. She reached blindly for Draco. He grabbed her hand and pulled her to the wall, so they would be behind the door when it fully opened. Draco wrapped his arms securely around her, and she tightened her fingers around his wrists. They’d have to rip her from his arms.

A wand appeared beyond the edge of the door. Ginny trembled violently.

“Ginny?” a male voice called uncertainly, “are you here?”

Someone’s face appeared and Ginny froze.

“Ron?” she said, a little breathlessly. She tore away from Draco and launched herself at her brother.

“Gin!” he said, pulling back to examine her, “Are you okay? Did they hurt you at all?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” and she turned to smile brilliantly at Draco, “We’re going to be fine.”

“Harry killed him, Gin.”

“What?” she said, whipping back around to stare at her brother.

“Yeah, it’s all over. The war is over,” he smiled at her, “After you disappeared, Harry went crazy. And two weeks later it was all over. We didn’t know where you were, and then one of the Death Eaters confessed that you were locked up in Malfoy Manor with Malfoy. Sorry it took so long, but we had to break though all the wards first. It took ages. Merlin, I’m so glad that you’re okay. Everyone was so worried.”

Ginny hugged him again, and felt mingled relief and trepidation course though her. They would not die at the hands of the Death Eaters or Lord Voldemort. On the other hand, unless she thought very quickly, Draco may be going to Azkaban along with the rest of their captors.

“Where is everyone else, Ron?” Ginny asked, thinking furiously.

“Oh, right,” he said, “We split up to search the manor. I guess we should tell them that they can stop looking.”

Draco followed Ron and herself out of the cellar and up the stairs into the main part of the house. She glanced left and right, there was no one around. Ginny hung slightly back behind Ron, distracting him with meaningless questions, and deftly pulled Ron’s wand from his back pocket. He was completely unaware. She passed the wand back to Draco, and gave him a long meaningful look.

He mouthed, “Thank you.”

She smiled weakly, her eyes sad, and mouthed back, “Go.”

He stopped, and yanked her to him, kissing her fiercely. At Ron’s dismayed, “Oi!” he pulled away with a grin, turned on the spot and disapparated.

Ginny didn’t have to fake her own look of shock. She couldn’t believe that she had really helped him escape. Wishing and doing were very different things, and she had handed off Ron’s wand without a second thought. She pressed her hand to her mouth. Ron started yelling into the air that Malfoy had escaped, and aurors and Weasley’s were upon them in moments. Ginny had no more time to think about what she’d done, because her father was gathering her up into his arms and kissing her face in relief. She was passed from Weasley to Weasley, and finally to Harry who kissed her desperately.

“Oh, Ginny,” he was breathing into her hair, “Thank God you’re okay.”

“I’m fine, Harry, I’m fine,” she smiled and kissed him softly. “I just want to go home.” She really was glad to see him.

Months later, she sent Draco an owl, not sure if he would even receive it, filled with press clippings from the Daily Prophet and a short note:

Draco,

I’m not sure where you are hiding, or even if you’re aware that all charges against you have been dropped. Professor Dumbledore left behind a note professing your innocence, along with several memories from his pensive. Professor Snape gave evidence, and even Harry testified for you. Overall, it was quite a show. The courtroom was packed on the day of your trial. You are free to return to England whenever you like without the threat of imprisonment hanging over your head.

I hope you’ll come by the Burrow if you do return.

Love,
Ginny

He arrived late on New Years Eve. Ginny was perched on the steps of the porch, and she wasn’t all that surprised to see him. It was as though some part of her knew he was coming. The snow crunched under his feet as he approached her.

The first word out of his mouth was, “Potter?”

“We’re done.”

The corners of his lips quirked, and he sat next to her, his hands buried deep in the pockets of his cloak. She smiled softly at him and he grinned back.

“So tell me,” he said, “how does one break up with a wizard who saved her life?”

“I’m not sure what the proper procedure is, but it would have been nice to have a guide.”

“Messy, huh?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe,” she sighed.

He nudged her with his shoulder. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

He smiled ruefully to himself, and then said, “I got a flat in Hogsmede.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You should come by during the next Hogsmede weekend.”

“It’s in two weeks.”

“Good.”

Draco took his hand out of the pocket and slowly twined his fingers between hers. She sighed.

“Is your family all inside?”

“Every last one of them.”

“I should probably go then.”

Ginny wanted to say, no, you shouldn’t. But Harry was inside as well. Draco stood and pulled her up with him. He cupped her face in his hands and just looked at her for a moment, and then kissed her lightly.

“Thank you for helping me escape,” he murmured.

She nodded and kissed him again, opening her mouth to deepen the kiss.

Several moments later, he pulled away with a regretful turn of his lips. “I’ll see you in two weeks.”

“Okay,” she said.

He shot her one last smile, and then turned on the spot, disapparating with a crack.

Ginny sat back down on the step, fingers pressed tightly to her lips. She let out a breathy giggle, feeling so happy that she could burst. She would have to stop grinning before she went back inside.

Harry Potter: The Cellar (2/2)

2007-05-31T23:22:00.000-07:00

Miss Ginevra Zabini requested a bit on how Harry was feeling, and though I had no intention of writing a second chapter this came to me rather easily, so I figured, why not? I hope it was worth it. I really doubt that there will be any more.

Also, I don’t own Harry Potter.

-----

Breathless and pink cheeked, Ginny skipped down the stairs of Draco’s block of flats. She smoothed her hair in the hall before braving the outside world. She was still smiling. She bit her bottom lip, and tried to think about something foul to bring her mood down just a bit… nothing worked. Oh, but it would be so obvious to everyone! She shook her head and tried to calm herself down.

It had been such a wonderful afternoon…

A dark eyed Draco in a pale blue button up greeted her at the door. His hand immediately went to her hair, and he drew her into his flat with his lips and talented fingers. Tea had been offered between kisses, and she had declined.

“Where did you hide?”

“France for awhile, then America. My bank account was available to me, as the goblins don’t give information to the Ministry for any reason, so it wasn’t difficult to travel.”

“What’s America like?”

“Big. Everything is big. And loud.”

“I’d like to go there sometime.”

“We’ll go. It’ll be better fun with company.”

They grinned at each other as they realized they’d just made future plans.

“How long can you stay?” he asked.

“An hour or two. Any longer and I’ll be missed.”

He murmured, “Excellent,” and pushed her down into the couch cushions.

Finally feeling like she could keep her happiness in check without giving the game away, she pushed open the door. The day was cold and miserable. The sky was grey and drizzling freezing rain; such an absolute contrast to her current mood.

She chuckled at her thoughts, pulled her hood up, and set off down the street.

She became aware of footsteps behind her, and then a bitterly resentful voice, “Malfoy, huh?”

She whirled, and just like that, her good mood vanished. “Harry?”

“You were with Malfoy?”

She turned around again, and walked quickly. But he didn’t take the hint, and caught up to her.

“Malfoy, Ginny? Really?”

“Yes, Harry,” she said scathingly, “I was with Draco.”

He made a loud scoffing noise, and continued to stomp after her.

“Were you following me?” The Bat Bogey Hex sounded like a damn good idea right about now.

“I came to see you. I just wanted to talk… and then I saw you sneak out of the Three Broomsticks—“

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake, Harry. What I do isn’t your business anymore. We’ve broken up.”

“That’s what I came to talk to you about!”

Ginny turned on him, “Look, and please listen… I’m really sorry that I hurt you. I never wanted to do that, but Harry,” and she struggled to say it, “I just don’t—“

“You don’t love me.”

She could not look at him, but she shook her head in agreement.

“But you love Draco?”

“I like him. A lot. And I want to see where it goes.”

“But you won’t see where it goes with me?”

“We saw where it went, Harry.”

She started up the street again, hoping that this hellish conversation would be over soon, because he was making her feel like she was the most ungrateful bitch in the entire world. The boy saves her life, and the entire wizarding world, and she, the biggest bitch since Anaxarete, can’t find it within herself to love him.

“Please, Ginny, I just don’t understand!”

And though she didn’t want to say it, really didn’t want to say it, the words tumbled from her mouth, “Fine! When Draco kisses me,” Harry flinched, “I feel like I’m on fire. I never felt like that with you, and it’s not your fault, or my fault, it just is. I think I could love Draco, and I was always trying to fall in love with you. It just never happened.”

He looked so broken and so close to the verge of tears. She shrugged helplessly and began to cry, “I’m sorry, Harry.”

He nodded woodenly, and without a word, apparated away.

Ginny shut her eyes and hugged herself, feeling the cold and the rain acutely now. She absolutely bloody refused to feel guilty for liking Draco. It was no one’s fault, it was just… fate. Destiny, or some rot. She tried to make herself believe it.

She ambled slowly back to Hogwarts, getting soaked to the skin, but not caring in her current state of mind. It was really unfair that she could go from giddy to wrecked in only five minutes.

She dripped through the corridors of the school, all the way back to her dormitory where there was an owl waiting for her. She cast a quick drying spell, and gave the little grey owl a treat. The seal on the envelope was the Malfoy family crest, and it made her grin gently. She’d only just left him!

He’d written:

I’m going soft, Weasley. I miss you already. When’s the next Hogsmeade weekend?

Her giddiness came back, word by word. She clutched the parchment to her heart in a hopelessly silly gesture, and sighed happily, all thoughts of Harry pushed from her mind.

-----

A/N: Anaxarete is a woman from Greek Mythology who refused the advances of a man who loved her, and he later killed himself on her doorstep. She was still unmoved by his love, and Aphrodite turned Anaxarete to stone. Cheerful imagery, eh?

Harry Potter: Voldemort's Favorite Captive

2006-12-29T23:56:00.000-08:00

Title: Voldemort’s Favorite Captive
Rating: K+
Genre: Humor, Crack-ish
Spoilers: HBP
Pairing: None
Word Count: 1,088
Summary: Why was Florean Fortescue really captured by the Death Eaters? A funny ficlet that has no real point.

A/N: This is a silly little fic that my brain came up with. It was too good not to write. I own nothing. Least of all Harry Potter.

-----

Florean Fortescue was terrified. He’d been attacked at his ice cream parlor in Diagon Alley. Death Eaters had destroyed his beloved shop. Ice cream, maraschino cherries, and whipped cream had been splattered over the walls, counters, and tables. Tables and chairs had been broken. Glass had shattered everywhere. The windows with their cheerful paintings of sundaes and shakes had been blasted inwards. Florean had wanted to cry.

But that was nothing to how he felt now. They had taken him to Merlin only knows where. They were going to kill him. Torture him for information that he did not have. Put him under the Imperius and make him do terrible things. At the moment his hands were bound and there was a dark hood over his face. He could hear Death Eaters all around him, their voices excited. Florean moaned. “Please let them kill me quickly… please…” he thought desperately.

A hush fell over the Death Eaters, and Florean felt his heart begin to pound. Was it Him?

“Ah, he is here. Finally.” The voice was cold and high. Much too high for a normal man. It was Him. Florean trembled.

“Well, what are you waiting for Wormtail?” The voice said harshly, “Unmask him.”

Florean’s hood was whipped from his head and he could see the room clearly for the first time. Surprisingly it was well lit and smelled clean. He had expected the Death Eaters to do all their evil doings in dark, dank places. He looked around himself warily. It was… no… his eyes must be playing tricks. It was an ice cream parlor. There was no mistaking the high windows with cherries and sundaes etched into them, nor the black and white tiled floor. The walls were covered in cheerful red and white stripes. There were clusters of tables with wrought iron chairs. Florean was sure if he turned around there would be a high counter with a mirror behind it, the name of the shop etched into the glass. He blinked several times, expecting the whole place to disappear, but it didn’t.

“Florean, my dear man,” The Dark Lord said silkily, “I’m so glad you could join us.”

Florean looked up into the face of his captor and whimpered. He’d heard rumors of what the Dark Lord looked like these days, but nothing could have prepared him for the flat snake like face, and the gleaming red eyes. There was nothing human there.

“I—I—I don’t know anything,” Florean stammered, desperate to just get it over with, whatever it may be.

Voldemort’s lips curled, “Oh, but I think you do.” Monsters shouldn’t smile, Florean thought. It was terrifying. “Unbind him Wormtail, and help him up.”

The ropes binding his hands vanished, and the man called Wormtail hauled Florean to his feet. His knees were shaking. He felt ready to pass out.

Voldemort had strolled past Florean and walked behind the counter that Florean had known instinctively was there. His long white hand picked up an ice cream scooper. “Do you know how to use this Mr. Fortescue?”

Florean nodded, sure that something very, very evil was about to happen.

“Excellent,” Voldemort hissed, and added in a louder voice, “I’d like for you to make me a Super Chocolate Chunk sundae, with fudge, slathered in whipped cream, and three cherries on top.”

Florean’s mouth fell open, “I’m sorry?”

“My dear man, you didn’t think we were going to torture you?” Voldemort laughed, and Florean winced. It was like nails on a chalkboard. “No, no, no. You see, you make the best ice cream in the whole wizarding world. And there is nothing better than having a Super Chocolate Chunk sundae after a long hard day of evil doing. Isn’t that right?” He looked sharply at his Death Eaters who quickly murmured their agreement.

“I—you just want me to make you ice cream?” Florean asked tentatively.

“Yes. Why? Can you make something else that is tasty and delicious?”

“Well, yes, but…” he hoped he wasn’t pressing his luck, asking questions, but for goodness sakes, they were Death Eaters! Evil doers don’t enjoy ice cream! “Don’t you have house elves to—“

Voldemort waved a hand at him impatiently, “House elves do not understand the delicacy of a frozen treat. And they don’t have your secret ice cream recipes.” Voldemort once again smiled.

Florean realized then that the Dark Lord had definitely gone off the deep end.

“Super Chocolate Chunk sundae, coming right up,” Florean said, knowing that he had better jump at this chance before the Dark Lord became annoyed with him.

Voldemort smiled widely, and pressed the ice cream scoop into Florean’s hand.

Florean prepared the Dark Lord’s sundae, careful to get the order right the first time, and proceeded to make shakes, sundaes, and malts for the rest of the assembled Death Eaters. It was beyond disturbing to watch Bellatrix Lestrange share a milkshake with Peter Pettigrew, and even more unsettling was Lord Voldemort himself displaying his snake tongue’s ability to tie three cherry stems into knots.

One by one the Death Eaters bid him a goodnight, and a promise to be back for more ice cream tomorrow. Florean flinched at every word, sure that someone would curse him soon. Eventually, only the Dark Lord was left.

Florean trembled as he glided over to the counter, setting his empty dish down with a soft clink.

“You’ve done well today Mr. Fortescue. Let’s make sure that continues.” There was a promise of pain in those red eyes.

“Yes, sir.”

Voldemort walked to the door, holding it open and calling back, “I think I’ll want a Chocolate Frog shake tomorrow, Fortescue. Do you think you can handle that?”

“Of course, sir.”

And so, this was how Florean Fortescue spent the entirety of the second war. On the day that Harry Potter and a fleet of Auror’s stormed the Dark Lord’s compound, he celebrated by making the Boy Who Lived a pumpkin parfait.

Harry grinned, took a bite, and then said, “You know, I really do like your Super Chocolate Chunk. Do you have any of that?”

A look of horror crossed the ice cream maker’s face, and for the first time in his life, Florean fainted.