Who?

The next few days passed in relative solitude







The next few days passed in
relative solitude. Malfoy’s advances seemed to stop. He longer brushed against
her as he went by her to his Potions desk. He only rarely glared at her over
the heads in the Great Hall.

 

Draco spent the deepest, darkest
part of the nights questioning himself. Why was he so intent on finding out the
object of her affection? Must be Potter,
he mentally snarled. She’s always
followed him around. And who knows
why? Not like he’s going to notice her. Gods, she went and got herself a boyfriend
while Potty was all hung up over Cho Chang. Even I knew that before he did.

Not only was he disgusted with
himself for wanting to know, but also because she was a Weasley. Sworn Malfoy enemy.

I
must be really bored, he thought, if
I’ve resigned myself to getting my kicks out of exclusively tormenting a
Weasley.

 

Ginny hoped fervently that Malfoy
would leave her alone while she was in Hogsmeade. After all, three of her
friends and the Trio were day-tripping there as well. After enjoying a butterbeer
in The Three Broomsticks she broke off from the group to go to Madam Taryn’s
fabric shop.

Once outside she observed Malfoy
exiting the clothier’s with a package beneath his arm. He looked both ways,
suspiciously, as if he were being followed. The swift breeze lifted his hair
and swirled it around his face. She giggled under her breath watching him try
to hold it down. With his face in the wind, cheeks slightly pinked, she thought him very handsome. Unbidden, her mind
conjured his image of a few nights ago. She felt a hitch low in her belly. His
flushed face and lusty eyes had haunted her dreams ever since.

It was too bad, really, that he had
to be so haughty and high-brow. She sighed, knowing that even if he didn’t have
the money and prestige he would never associate with her kind. It was the born
and bred superiority in him.

She suddenly realized that she was
quite visible standing on the porch of the restaurant. She moved tow toward
the door, lest Malfoy be headed that way. She poked her head out once more and
saw no trace of him. Conducting her own cautious survey, she determined that
the path to Madam Taryn’s was Malfoy-free.

Once inside she let her guard down
and began to inspect the gorgeous fabrics she could never afford to buy. She
let her hand slide down the smooth satins and the diaphanous silks. Walking
past the display she headed towards the plain cottons and denims, towards the
day-to-day basic blacks. She found the right material, but was ashamed to note
that the lustrous black of the new fabric would never match the faded upper
half of her robe. She sighed but selected the fabric anyway. Idly she wondered
if Madam Taryn could change it for her.

Ginny cut the amount that she
needed and went to the counter to pay. Madam Taryn smiled at her and began to
ring up her purchase. The cloth was more Galleons than she imagined.

“Uh, Madam, is it possible you
could bewitch the upper half of my robe to match this?” Ginny asked.

“That’s five Galleons and seven
sickles more, miss. The only problem I see is that the color spell has to have
something less, er, tenuous to hold
on to.” Ginny gazed down at her shabby robe and noticed for the first time that
she could see the colors of her school uniform peeking through.

“Uh, no, thank you,” Ginny said hurriedly.
She wanted nothing more than to disappear into the ground. Madam Taryn gave her
a few knutschanchange and Ginny had to fight both tears and the urge to run
right out of the shop.

 

She exited the store blindly,
wiping her eyes. An arm snaked around her waist and before she could say
anything, she and the arm disapparated.

 

“You!” she said, slapping him hard
before he knew what hit him.

“Merlin, you’re an obstinate chit,”
he rejoined, rubbing his cheek. “Your little claw marks are only beginning to
fade.”

“Maybe if you didn’t do this to me,
you wouldn’t have to worry. Where are we? I demand to be let go.” She stamped
her foot in frustration. Draco smiled in spite of himself.

The room was certainly
well-appointed, with a soft light glowing from sconces on the wall. There were
a few overstuffed chairs, a sofa, and a table and chairs set.

“Have no fear, this is a room my
father owns in Hogsmeade for meetings,” Draco said smoothly. She sneered. Where did that come from? He continued.

“I thought I might make this easy
on you, Weasel. You tell me who you’re pining after and I’ll leave you alone.”

 

Ginny gathered as much of her nerve
around her as possible.

“Look, Malfoy, get over it, all
right? Maybe I don’t fancy anyone, did you ever thinkthatthat? What possible
reason would you need to know anyhow? Because I know all you plan to do is
bother me for the rest of the year. I
don’t ask you why you fancy that
silly bint Parkinson, she’s got a face like a pug!”

Draco allowed a quirk of his lips.
Ginny caught sight of his smirk and fought not to slap him again because he was
such a boy.

Here was a girl after his own
heart, using his own words to describe the decidedly dog-like Pansy. “Jealous?”

“Sod off, rotter. The day I’m
jealous of Pansy Parkinson I hope I die.”

“Temper, temper,” he said lightly.

“Why do you insist in making me
miserable?” she rejoined, determined to let his remarks roll off her.

“Oh, I don’t know, Weasel, one can
only harass the perfect triumvirate for so long before it becomes a bore.
You’re much more interesting.” He paused. “Aside from that, I’ve never seen a girl look quite like you
did.”

She harrumphed and crossed her
arms. Turning on her heel, she threw one back at him. “Maybe you don’t know
what you’re doing, then.” Her stomach turned immediate flip-flops; she couldn’t
believe she’d just told a Malfoy he lacked something. She couldn’t help but
smile inwardly and offer herself congratulations.

She let out a rush of air as Malfoy
pulled her sharply back against his front, again sliding his leather-clad thigh
between hers. The buttery feel of it between her legs made her almost
light-headed.

“How would you know, Weasley?” he
whispered, sliding her slowly against his person.

“Oh, you know, just what I hear,”
she said, feeling his burgeoning member snug against her buttocks.

“And exactly what do they say, Virginia?”

Ginny swallowed her heart before
replying, determined to throw him off-guard.

“That you muddle around, you know,
and that you lack, uh, skills.”
There, she’d said it. Of course, it was completely the antithesis of anything
she’d ever heard, but insulting the pride and know-how of a Malfoy was an
enriching life experience.

 

His hands gripped her hips so hard
he knew she would be bruised come nightfall. A growl the likes of which he’d
never heard before rumbled out of his chest. He could see the wispy hair at her
temples ahe she strands that fell over her neck dampened with sweat. Reaching
around, he flicked the clasp of her robe. It fell to the ground, a pool of
black at his feet. He bounced her once, hard, on his thigh. A soft oh issued from her lips. He began to
sink slowly to his knees, his vise-like grip following. He suddenly wanted to
hurt her as she had hurt him when she raked her fingernails down his face. But
not where anyone could see. He simply could not let go of the things she said,
what the other girls said. His mind pushed aside the fact that he was so intent
on injuring an innocent girl, both mind and body.

 

The pain from his grip made Ginny
tremble. His hands were locked onto her calves, holding her immobile. The feel
of his fingers pressing between her muscles made her bite her lip to keep
suddenly real tears at bay. He dispensed a rough bite on the back of her right
knee. She felt the sharp sting as he drew blood. She could not hold her body
still when he did it again. The shaking dislodged hot tears down her suddenly
clammy cheek. He was not playing any more.

 

“Draco,” she said quietly, just
above a whisper. “Please don’t hurt me.” The shock of her words completely
unmanned him. He relaxed his grip to ease the pressure but not enough to allow
her escape. He rested his head against the back er ter thigh, the wool of her
skirt chaffing his cheek. All thoughts of inflicting pain, mental or physical,
seemed to fly right out the window.

“Did I hurt you before?” he choked
out, not believing how close he had come to losing his hard-won emotional
control. She stood silently and didn’t answer.

“Answer me!” he rasped. “Did I hurt
you, Ginny?”

 

She’d never heard him say her name like
this before, dark and oddly caressing, something she was sure was unintended.
He shook her legs, reminding her that it was her turn.

“No. You didn’t hurt me.” Physically.

He seemed to sag against her.

 

He heard her draw in another breath
as if to say something.

“Don’t speak.”

He removed his wand from his
pocket. He pointed it in turn to the flickering wall sconces, all but one
sputtering out.

“Nox,” he muttered softly. He felt
as much as heard her soft gasp.

 

She felt his roughened palms
gliding up the outside of her legs. They went slowly, allowing her to feel
every Quidditch-earned scar and callus. For what seemed like an interminable
time, he repeated these strokes. She couldn’t understand his gentleness. It
frankly unnerved her. She almost wished for Malfoy’s strident manner; she’d
know how to deal with him then.

She felt his body move, having had
been pressed against the backs of her legs. When she realized he was sliding
his torso between her legs, she struggled to catch her breath. He abandoned her
legs to press her skirt upward and around her waist.

Why
does it have to be him?

No,
Malfoy, you’re not hurting me.

He slid the tip of his wand up her
right leg to where he was staring at the red satin panties she wore.

“Diffindo.” The splitting charm made them halve and fall to her
sides.

His fingers crept upward to the
swell of her buttocks. He kneaded them and elicited a forbidden moan from
Ginny’s lips.

You
have to tell him.

I
can’t take much more of this.

Slowly he gravitated toward the
core of her. His fingers stroked the opening he had invaded a scant few nights
ago. She immediately tensed, hot tears leaking out as she remembered her
humiliation.

She was almost undone when he
pressed kisses against the back of her thighs, almost as if he knew why she was
flinching.

“I will show you that I have
skills,” he whispered against her soft skin. “I know who it is now.” Do you, Malfoy? Do you really?

Her thoughts were cut off when his
burning tongue touched her most secret of places.

 

He stroked his tongue almost
leisurely, gently around her. He tasted the heat of her desire and found
himself memorizing it. The embers of jealousy smoldered deeply within him.
Knowing she was surely holding out for Potter made him all the more determined
to show her just how skilled he was, and how he was twice the man Potter would
ever be. He wanted to see her. Wanted to see how she looked when it was he who brought her to the same ecstasy
she had been driving towards in the shower.

He broke off and he swore he heard
a soft puff of distressed air. Pushing on her legs, he made her turn round. He
caught her eye and made sure she saw him descend on her again. Made sure she
saw him giving her pleasure. His lips caught the sleek knot of her arl. Hl. He
suckled it slowly, circling it repeatedly.

He moved forward, easing his tongue
into her.

 

A moan escaped her lips. She went
on her tiptoes and he followed her, both holding her steady and reaching as far
inside her as he could. When he began his rhythm she could not help rocking
with him. When he finally let that part of her go, she heard herself growl and
wished in that second she could reclaim the breath that stole it from her lips.
He looked up at her, gray eyes dark in the flickering candlelight. He gave her
a smile that was part smug and something else she could not decipher in that
moment.

“Tell me, can sweet famous Potter
make you do that?”

 

He
thinks it’s Harry. He repeated his question more forcefully, flicking his
tongue on her.

“No, he can’t,” she struggled to
say. Malfoy seemed satisfied.

He went back to his ministrations,
touching deeply inside her with his tongue. He must have decided she was steady
enough to stand on her own, because he released one hand and brought it up to
meet his tongue.

He eased his long and narrow
fingers into her, feeling honeyed slickness marking his way.

 

She did not realize that she was
riding his fingers ever so gently, encouraged by his slowly rocking hand on her
hip.

I
can’t believe I’m letting this happen.

All
it’s going to do is hurt me in the end.

Why
can’t I make him stop?

Because
I don’t want to.

She moaned again without heeding
the consequences.

 

Draco
smiled again, feeling her soft flesh contracting rhythmically around his
slender fingers. He leaned down again and pressed hot circles around her
center.

“I can tell
you’re getting close, Ginny. Why don’t you tell me that you want more? Your
body is telling me,” he murmured against her. He wondered if she would speak.
He knew she wanted nothing more than for him to be someone else and the thought
galled him. He redoubled his pace in her silence, feeling her body respond
recklessly.

“And every
time you speak his name he’ll never know how you took your pleasure with me.”

 

His fingers and tongue became
frenzied on her now. Her hands came down to recklessly hold his head to her.
His other hand dug into her backside, opening her as far as possible to his
marauding touch. She whimpered as her climax began to rage darkly through her
body. She lowered her head and saw his burning gaze as he drank of her.

 

“Dra-co,” she said loudly, her voice cracking, not caring. “It’s you.”

Instantly he disapparated.