Sunshine and Shadows

Chapter 4- Fat in the Fire

Hers, not mine. Yea, yea, yea. I am broke. She is stinking rich. Why would she sue me? Surely wouldn’t be ‘cause she wants my Blazer. By the way, I finally DID get the cracked windshield fixed.


Ginny reopened the cantina shortly after Draco’s departure. Hanging a bright countenance upon her freckled face like an open for business sign, she had greeted each customer with a smile, while her self-respect paced up and down the paths of her brain, chewing its nails.

Draco Malfoy had kissed her!

And she, Ginny Weasley, had allowed it to happen.

No, not just allowed. She had participated! The heat from the fry baskets lent its excuse for the rising blush on her cheeks as Ginny recalled the firm muscle of Draco’s back under her questing hands and the way his hair had clung to the sweat damp slope of his bare shoulders. She had been shaking with fearful desire when he wrapped strong arms lightly around her body. Even now, Ginny could smell him on her skin.

She, who had not allowed a male near her since her first year at Hogwarts, had accepted, no, had sought, the touch of her family’s deepest enemy!

And yet, he had felt so good.

‘Ginny, you silly chit’, an irritated mental voice snapped. ‘Sneaky Snake is up to something and he thinks to drag you along for the ride! In five days time’, Ginny’s inner Molly continued, ‘he will be married to Pansy Parkinson. The prick is merely looking for a final fling before she slaps on the ol’ ball and chain.’

Ginny sighed angrily, telling the harping voice to sod off.

The feel of Draco’s kiss, sticky with soda and cherry juice, lingered yet on her body. She had moved several times to clean the residue from around her mouth and along the path his lips had taken to her ear, but could not bring herself to remove the evidence of the wizard’s touch. It would be all she would ever possess of Draco Malfoy. The memory of those lips, the way they had brushed like soft flames over her skin, the words they had formed, caused her to tremble with unnamable emotions.

I will never hurt you, Ginny.

Well, can’t hurt what you aren’t allowed to touch, Ginny insisted silently, shaking seasoning salt over a basket of fish and chips before passing it over to a waiting customer.

If you let me, I will hunt down the son of a bitch that did, and I will kill him- just for you.

Oh Draco, Ginny sighed. If only that were true!

But while looking into his moon-blue eyes, Ginny had found herself believing him.

Slinging a crumb-laden rag into the now tepid wash water, the young witch snorted at her own foolishness. Believe in the word of a Malfoy? That path led to certain destruction. Why couldn’t he just stay the same conniving, hex hurler she remembered from school? Why did he have to show up here of all places, looking like the male lead in a wet dream, with his deeply tanned body and platinum hair, his words tender and his lips...

Oh ye gods, those lips!

Ginny smiled, recalling that same mouth hissing out curses as she would try to slip past him and his cronies on her way to class. The hexing had started in her fifth year. For some strange reason, Malfoy had left off his plaguing of Harry Potter and set his sights upon the youngest of the Weasley clan. At first, the curses had embarrassed and frightened Ginny, but one day, she had noted the gleaming invitation to play shining behind Malfoy’s silver gaze and she had tossed caution and decorum to the four winds. For too long, she had hidden away from her peers, preferring to be alone, standing along the fringe of the school’s social warp and weave. Now, at last, was an opportunity for fun without the risk of a relationship. She could hex the slimy dungeon spawn to her heart’s content. She was a Weasley, he was a Malfoy. They were enemies and therefore expected to fight.

Right?

Malfoy hunting had quickly become Ginny’s favorite pastime and she entered into the sport with fierce enthusiasm. By unspoken agreement, the pair never threw hexes that brought about pain or humiliation, though the two hours she had skulked about with peacock feathers dragging along beneath her school robes had been pretty unpleasant, Ginny recalled. She had repaid Draco with a powerful Repunzel spell. Madam Pomfrey had been forced to suspend the howling Slytherin by the ever-lengthening rope of blond nose hair flowing from his nostrils, cutting him free with silver shears, before the spell could be broken. Ginny had stood in the infirmary door, doubled over with laughter at the time, hardly caring about the week’s detention she had collected with Filch for her crime. The sight of Malfoy dangling from his own nose hair was one of her most precious memories.

Then the arrogant git had to go and ruin it all by showing up here!

The remainder of the afternoon bled with agonizing reluctance into early evening and she slumped in relief as the day breathed its last. Despite her fears, Draco had not returned to the cantina, and as she bagged up the last of the trash, Ginny stomped down firmly upon a fluttering scrap of disappointment. “He has his own life to ruin without getting tangled up in mine.” The witch reminded herself sternly. Picking up the sack containing the day’s receipts, Ginny swept her verdigris eyes over the tiny stainless steel chamber. Everything was in readiness for the following day’s business; condiment bottles stocked, cup, lid and straw bins were all filled. The rectangular metal containers for nuts and toppings were neatly covered and the counters had been scoured to a high gleam. There was no chore left undone. Even the floor sparkled from the extra mopping the witch had lavished upon its normally hazy surface. No reason to hang around.

Nope, not one.

A weight pulling at her chest, Ginny exited the cantina, her normal precautions ignored as her mind continued to dwell on the confusing encounter with Draco. After checking the lock, she crossed the shell covered picnic area, and swinging her arm in a graceful arch, deposited the black garbage bag into the open rubbish bin.

“ Accio wand.”

Ginny barely heard the summoning spell over the roar of the surf, but felt the tearing as her wand was snatched from the back pocket of her cut-offs. With a snarl, she whirled, placing her back against the still warm metal of the bin, knees slightly bent, her fists pulled tight against her chest. The moneybag fell unnoticed at her feet. Crabbe and Goyle blocked her view of the road, both wizards wearing identical idiotic smirks.

“Hey, Weasley.” Gregory Goyle attempted a bored drawl as the pair slid closer. Now the streetlights shone behind the menacing figures, casting them as black silhouettes.

Ginny held her silence, her eyes darting between the two hulking males and the possible safety to be found in the lengthening shadows of the nearby buildings. From the shore, the muted conversation and laughter from late strollers floated like driftwood, bobbing over the rumble of the waves. Since they were most likely Muggles, no rescue could be expected from that direction.

“Been thinking about how hard you’ve been working lately, Weasley.” Goyle grinned evilly. “Thought you would appreciate a little fun and games, so we are inviting you to a party.”

“ I’m not interested.” Ginny managed to croak through the pressure bing ing in her chest. Her body coiling tightly, she struggled against the rip tide of fear that threatened to sweep her away. Already the flashing of black stars was obscuring her vision while the blood thundered in her ears.

“Oh, but we insist!” Vincent Crabbe laughed, stepping closer. “Don’t we, Gregory?”

“Yes!” Goyle agreed, and then cut his eyes narrowly towards his partner. “Say, Vincent, do you think she is a true red-head?”
eve even more confused look replaced the one Crabbe normally wore. “Well, all them Weasley’s are carrot-tops, so I guess…” The impatient cuff Goyle laid to the back of his large head cut off his words.

“No, you stupid wanker! I’m suggesting that we check it out for ourselves.”

“Oh, yea.” A dangerous leer grew over both their faces as the wizards fixed their glittering eyes on the trembling witch. “Nothing says we can’t have a bit of fun before the party starts.”

Goyle reached out one beefy hand, grasping Ginny by the upper arm. Ignoring the blank expression on her face, he jerked her to him. Running his tongue coarsely over her face he grunted, “You taste like old grease. We’ll be sure to give you a good wash up before the party.”

The bubble of panic that had been rising in Ginny reached the surface. The resulting explosion washed over her and with a scream of rage and fear, she attacked. Her nails raked deep furrows along Goyle’s cheek while her knee slammed into his groin with enough force to send him crashing to the ground. In her madness, Ginny did not seek to flee, but threw herself upon her downed victim in a hail of fists and snapping teeth.

Vincent, stunned, hesitated a second before wading into the fray. Snatching the screeching witch up by the hair, he hauled her from the groaning Goyle only to have the girl spin and climb him like a cat, biting, clawing and spitting her way up his considerable height. Stumbling backwards, Gregory toppled heavily to the ground, Ginny’s knees blasting into his chest as she scrambled over his prone form.

Over the sounds of fighting came a cold, mirthless laugh.

“Boys. Boys.” Lucius Malfoy intoned icily, stepping into the mellow golden light of the street lamp. “What would your parents say if they saw you brawling in the dirt like common Muggle thugs?” He curled his patrician lip disdainfully as he pulled his wand from his sleeve.

“Expelliarmus!”

The spell lifted Ginny from the rapidly failing wizard beneath her, and hurled the witch over the graveled lot. She skidded to a halt against the bin, her skull impacting the metal with a dull clang. The violence of the blow shocked the madness thampagmpaged in her body, bringing it to a stunned halt. a g a gagging groan, she attempted to push herself upright, her hands digging into the dirt and gravel where she lay. The sound of approaching footsteps pulled Ginny’s attention the the throbbing pain at the base of her skull and she drew in a juddering breath as she prepared to renew the fight. With a snarl, the witch surged to her feet, double handfuls of soil and stone flying out as her vanguard. Hard fingers clamped themselves about her throat, impeding her attack. Ginny squeaked as the last bit of air escaped past her lips while her fingers plucked in futile desperation at the crushing pressure at her windpipe.

“You marked me, girl.” A menacing voice purred with deceptive calm. “ I shall be sure to note it in my ledger. Just one more debt you shall cancel out with your body.”

Beneath her oxygen deprived panic. Ginny’s consciousness recoiled in stark horror as the speaker’s voice gained recognition. She raised clouding eyes to the perfect features before her. On one high cheek, a thin line of blood was creeping slowly down his skin.

Lucius Malfoy smiled. It was a startling beautiful display made chilling by the absence of humanity in his silver blue eyes. He cocked his elegant head to one side, observing Ginny’s struggles with a terrifyingly childlike curiosity. The witch’s mouth repeatedly opened and closed as her body instinctively fought to bring oxygen into her lungs. Malfoy mimicked her desperate actions, his lips popping and his eyes wide, as he made guppy-like faces at the failing girl. Releasing a deep laugh, Lucius slammed Ginny’s head sharply against the bin, tossing her to the ground like refuse as her eyes rolled back into her head.

He spun, whipping his lightweight summer cloak about his tall frame. He glared with disgust at Crabbe and Goyle as they struggled to their feet. “And to think you dare name yourselves wizard!” He spat. The two managed to look sufficiently cowed and Lucius smiled meanly. “Well lads, we have your gift. Wrap her up. We are taking her home.”

Gregory and Vincent scrambled to obey and soon the only sounds were those of the waves.


Still in the process of fastening the shoulder clasp of his formal evening robes, Draco apparated along the cusp of gold cast by the lone street lamp. He began striding the moment his feet touched down amid a crunch of shell and gravel. The wizard had been hexing himself for the better part of the past hour, following Goyle’s boasting reminder of the evening’s long scheduled event.

Gregory had every reason to brag and posture, for his family had been blessed beyond their dreams with the singular honor of hosting THE bachelor party of the decade. Tonight, the pinnacle of Pureblood male society would usher into their ranks, the Crown Prince of House Malfoy. After this evening, Draco Malfoy would take upon himself the ocatocating mantle of “The Untouchable”.

The date had completely slipped from Draco’s mind. Firstly, the event was merely one more spade full of dirt being chucked into the grave that was his future and therefore, was best left unanticipated. Secondly, the larger part of his brain had been, of late, actively involved in gaining the attentions of one, Ginny Weasley, and maneuvering around her aggressive defenses in the hope of scoring positive points with the lovely witch.

Which is why he was now striding over this lonely strip of beach towards the metal cantina that was shining blue and black in the moonlight. The frustrated wizard had frittered away his afternoon in the company of Crabbe and Gloyle, who had greatly lightened Draco’s purse with their voracious appetites. He had thought to make his escape immediately following the second round of deserts, only to find himself captured by a glowing, gushing Pansy, who had wasted no time, once quitting Madame Boule’s, in tracking down her intended to display what galleons paired with hours of intensive soaking, tucking, painting and sucking could accomplish. By the time he had wrestled himself free of her whining, clinging person the evening was uhim.him. With barely enough time to change into his elegant dinner robes, Draco had magicked himself to Fortesque’s establishment in thpes pes of catching Ginny Weasley before she closed the shop for the night. He was expected at the Goyle mansion within the hour, and he desired to use the time allowed him to persuade the red haired witch of his sincerity.

Draco’s heart sank, as he took in thrk qrk quiet of the closed shop. The slatted metal security shield had been lowered and no light glowed from between the cracks, telling him that Ginny had already departed.

“Damn!” He snarled. “Bloody shit and damn!” Balling his fist, Draco smashed the hard skin of the trailer, leaving a dent. ing ing his throbbing knuckles, he stomped around to the side holding the exit door and threw himself down upon the stoop with a huff. Stonewalled and realizing the impossibility of simply dropping by the Weasley home, Draco sighed, laying his blond head against the door, allowing his hands to dangle limply between his bent knees. Why was he even here, the wizard demanded of himself. The witch had made it very clear when she stated that she wanted nothing to do with him. However, the tender glow he had spotted in her eyes and the trembling way she had clung to him earlier in the day belied her words. Could there be some spark of affection, desire, kindling within the youngest Weasley? For the briefest of seconds, he had toyed with the notion of taking Ginny as his mistress, but he knew he could never live with himself after degrading her in such a sordid manner. She deserved better. Hell, he would be a fool for even bringing the idea up for the woman’s consideration. Ginny would hex him into St. Mungo’s for his gall.

Yet, Draco had wanted to see her at least one more time before…

Pushing himself to his feet, Draco shook the sand from his cloak and the disappointment from his heart. Pulling his wand free, he cast he eyes over the parking lot for anyone who might observe his use of magic and spotted something laying a few yards from where he stood. His heart gave a lurch as he recognized the object. It was one of Ginny Weasley’s pink and green sandals. He approached the lone piece of footwear and bending, picked it up. The slender ankle strap was broken off at the buckle and it hung limply in his hand. Falling back on his investigative training under the tutelage of Hogwart’s resident spy, Draco scanned the ground, noting the churned stones and the gouges in the damp sand. It appeared as if a struggle had taken place. Draco’s heart pounded harder when he found the bag containing the receipts from the cantina lying beside the scarred rubbish bin. Raising his wand, he whispered, “Lumos”. The wand tip glowed brightly, allowing the wizard to easily see the blood that stained the metal surface. Stuck to the congealing spot were several long, red hairs. Draco touched the blood with the tip of his index finger, the liquid easily transferring to his skin. Still fresh! Only moments old, his brain screamed. If he had arrived sooner, he could have saved her from her attacker! Where was she now? What was being done to the woman? After spending several moments longer searching fruitlessly for any evidence that would identify the culprit, Draco realized he would need the aid of one with greater experience.

With a growl, he doused the light of his wand.

The sound of his disapparation rolled like thunder over the sands.

And now, you are asking yourselves, “We waited five months for THIS??!” Please be forgiving. I have a busy life. I just don’t understand how some of you excellent writers can put out every week. I USED to be able to do that, but for some reason, I have lost the skill. Bear with me. I shall not leave you in the lurch.

For everyone who reviewed, emailed, or Imed, thank you from the bottom of my heart for your words of praise and encouragement. You will never know the tears of guilt I have shed over your devotion to this little story of lust and intrigue. You all have been steadfast and loyal. I don’t deserve you.
Big thanks go to Zee for her last moment beta work. She has enough on her plate as is, but yet she is ready to check me for lint or toe jam.

Love you all,
gotsnape