A Discerning Palate

Draco watched the sultry sway of the Weaselette’s hips as she made her way back to safer territory. There was a womanly roundness, a curve that begged a man to slide his hand over it. His eyes followed that curve down the length of her shapely legs, conjuring all sorts of images of soft, creamy thighs wrapped around his waist. Though she was delicate in her lushness, with her fine-boned, pure-blooded features. The elegance of her arms, the innate grace in her movements, the very appearance of fragility called the darker parts of him, taunted him to break her. But then there was the fire in her eyes, the very heat that was the force of her; no she would not be broken.

How had he missed it?

She would be the perfect distraction until graduation.

The object of his musings turned, feeling his stare. She met his eyes, refusing to let him intimidate her.

Then he did something that scared her. As it should any good girl with any sense. He smiled.

It was the sort of expression designed to make girls melt into a sticky, brainless puddle.

From what Draco could tell, it was working. She blushed and turned away.

And that in itself, was an interesting development. The chit could handle any verbal abuse he directed her way, but a smile would disarm her. Draco filed that away for further consideration.

“Hot little piece isn’t she?” Blaise interrupted his thoughts.

“I’ve always fancied strawberries.” Draco said, his familiar smirk once again in place.

“Me too. I want some. Get them for me.” A feminine voice joined the discussion.

“Pansy doll, I don’t think that you would like these strawberries. Maybe a bit out of season.” Blaise quipped.

“Oh, they are definitely in season.” Draco returned.

The blonde turned her stylishly coiffed head. “Where did you get them? All I see are oysters.” Pansy said as she grabbed one from Draco’s plate and slid it into her mouth.

She looked as if she were in heaven. Her tongue darted out across her full lips and a moan escaped her in praise of the chef’s culinary excellence. “The glaze on these is just divine.”

Another sound escaped Pansy and she delicately swiped another one from Draco’s plate. “Oh Merlin,”

Draco watched her with detached curiosity. But Blaise, he took it upon himself to push Draco’s plate over to her.

“Have the rest.” The timbre of Blaise’s voice was filled with a sudden intensity. He watched as Pansy proceeded to consume the rest of the delicacy, very obviously enjoying her meal.

“Lord, Mate. Look at the way she took after that. She might like those strawberries after all.”

“She might at that.”

“I told you I liked strawberries.” Pansy said as she finished licking the glaze off of her index finger.

“Pansy love, I think I should find you a strawberry patch. How about we go now.”

“Now?”

“Now.” Blaise adjusted his slacks beneath his robes before standing and offering Pansy his arm.

The blonde took it, oblivious to Blaise’s intentions, though of course, she would be willing. She had voracious needs.



Classes passed slowly for Ginny. In truth, she thought that she would shrivel up and die before the day was over. She needed time to think. To ponder Draco Malfoy. And that smile, that devastating beauty. It should be illegal for a wizard to be that beautiful.

Men weren’t beautiful. At least they weren’t supposed to be. But Draco Malfoy was. He was all sharp angles and contradictions, but he had the face of an angel when he smiled.

An angel?

What a load of shite. And she was spoon feeding it to herself. More like a fallen angel. Ginny shook her head as if the action could free her of those traitorous thoughts that were rampaging unchecked through her brain. She was still shaking her head when Hermione found her in the common room.

“Okay. What the hell was that this morning?”

“What was what?” Ginny cringed.

“You know very well what. Thank Merlin that Ron didn’t hear about it, though I’m not sure how that happened. Sometimes, he can be so thick.” Hermione shook her head disapprovingly.

“They were talking about me, so I…”

“Now everyone is talking about you. About you and Malfoy. In the same sentence. There are rumors in Slytherin that he plans to have you before graduation.”

“Have me?” She shrieked. “As in, like romance-novel-have-me?”

“What other way is there?” Came the exasperated reply. “Would you rather I say it the way he would? That he’s going to fuck…”

“What?” Harry’s eyes goggled as he stepped through the portrait hole and heard the foul word come from Hermione’s mouth. “I didn’t know you knew that word.” He laughed.

Ginny felt shivers run down her back. Yeah, maybe that was a better word. Draco, with that Quidditch honed body, he wouldn’t “have”, he would fuck. Maybe he would ride her like his broom, his hips and strong hands guiding her…

She felt a sharp twinge between her thighs and she had to cross her legs.

Ginny flushed, almost afraid that her friends could see into the line of her thoughts.

“Are you okay Gin?” Harry asked, noticing her flush. He dropped his books on the table and sat down next to her and pulled her into his embrace. Harry rested his forehead against hers to check for fever. “You feel feverish.”

“Do I?” she mumbled.

There she was, in the arms of the Boy-Who-Lived and all she could think about was the piercing eyes and strong hands of Draco Malfoy.

The whole summer she’d dreamt of a confession, when the wizard of her dreams (Harry) would finally realize his love for her, etc. etc. etc. And now here she was, the moment ripe with possibility and all she wanted was to be alone.

Hermione elbowed her in the side to get her attention as she stood up. “I will be going now. Harry. Can. Take. Care. Of. You.” She said pointedly, trying to give Ginny all the help that she could in maneuvering Harry into a compromising position.

“No, I’m fine.” Ginny started to get up but Hermione pushed her back down with a surprising amount of force.

“No. You’re dizzy. See, you fell. Harry will carry you to your room. Won’t you Harry?”

“Of course.” Harry swept her up into his arms before Ginny could speak and carried her effortlessly up the stairs.

And Ginny couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like to be wrapped in Draco’s arms, be thrust up against his muscular chest; her breath caught in her throat.

“You really don’t seem okay. I’ll stay with you.”

“No! No, I’m okay really. Just tired.”

“Ginny, I’m not that slow. Something’s going on with you, something awful enough to make Hermione say ‘fuck’. So, don’t try that with me. If you don’t want to be the damsel, that’s fine, but if it gets too bad, let me know. Okay?”

Ginny sighed. “Okay.”

When he deposited her on the bed, he paused for a long moment as if he wanted to say more. He searched her eyes, looking for something, but apparently he didn’t find it. Harry gave her one last look before he left her to her own devices.

Which consisted mainly of thinking about the Slytherin Sex God, and the Merlin-awful plan that was hatching itself.

He had to have been given that name for a reason, right?

Her rebellious mind couldn’t help but wonder, against the better advisement of her conscious, if he liked strawberries.