A Discerning Palate

Tension was a palpable thing in the Great Hall on Saturday night. The unthinkable had occurred.

Ginny Weasley sat at the Slytherin table, next to the reigning queen herself, Pansy Parkinson.

It was as if, by the very action of sitting at that table, regardless who she was sitting by, she’d broken some ancient law. The students all looked around, as if awaiting the other signs of the Apocalypse. But when none presented, that seemed to make the anticipation even worse.

Hermione had been invited, but she’s thought it best to sit with Ron and Harry.

Actually, she’d just wanted to be close to Ron, or so Ginny thought.

Draco kept eyeing her, albeit covertly, while Blaise openly ogled the Gryffindor.

The meal passed without incident, until dessert that is.

It was ice cream.

It was strawberry.

And Pansy was a wicked, wicked girl.

But she was not the worst of it, not by half. Ginny was blossoming under Pansy’s tutelage and knew just the thing.

Pansy slipped the spoon in her mouth and looked at Ginny pointedly. “Mmm. This is so good. Did I tell you what an insatiable appetite I have,” she paused to make sure everyone was paying attention, “for strawberries? I just love them.”

Ginny licked the frozen treat from the cradle of her spoon, her pink tongue flicking against the tool as she did. “No, Pansy. You never told me. I love them too.” Ginny took another lick. “When they’re fresh and ripe?” she added.

That was the phrase that caught Draco’s attention. He could no longer pretend disinterest. He watched Ginny as she worked her spoon, licking and sucking.

“I love how sometimes the juice will burst across my tongue as soon as they touch my lips.” Pansy shivered delicately.

Ginny was distracted a moment from her oral worship of the ice cream. She looked directly at Blaise when she spoke. “There’s something to be said for apples too. The way the nectar,” she closed her eyes to inhale, as if tasting the fruit, then opened them again, her eyes half-lidded and out of focus, “sprays your mouth with every bite. The taste is so crisp, and the scent of cinnamon apples, oh,” Ginny gushed.

Pansy caught a side glance and mouthed “nectar?”. She made a face and had to take another bite of ice cream to keep from laughing.

But when Ginny looked up, she found Malfoy’s eyes on her, intent and fierce. His gaze, was no longer the way of steel, but the deep, tumultuous depths of the artic sea, endless and dark. It was so cold it burned.

Ginny slipped the tip of the spoon into her mouth, never looking away. She licked the edge of the utensil, still watching him, watching his eyes grow darker with every flick of her tongue.

“It really is so very good, Malfoy. Won’t you have some?”

“Oh, I’ll have some,” Draco began, his voice predatory.

Ginny shivered with the force of his intensity. She scooped another bite onto the spoon and scooted away from the table.

She approached the Slytherin Prince with more than a little trepidation. What if this was just a ruse to embarrass her? What if her little act was exposed for all of Hogwarts and she was made a fool? What if she tripped? What if…

By the time she got to the last “what if”, she was there. Draco looked at her expectantly, sprawled back against his chair, eyebrow raised and familiar smirk in place.

Ginny had never been a person to do things half-assed. It was all or nothing. So she sat down and straddled Malfoy’s lap, squirming until she positioned herself in a most opportune way. Malfoy’s hands immediately closed around her hips and pulled her the rest of the way forward.

And with the first contact, Ginny’s eyes went wide.

“Oh.” It was a barely audible, but breathy, feminine sound.

Ginny almost forgot about the bite of ice cream. Her hands began to shake at the intimate proximity of such maleness, and he took the spoon from her.

“On further examination, I think you should have it.” He guided it to her mouth, rubbed it lightly across her lips, spreading some of the pink confection there, forcing her to lick her lips and then pushed it inside.

The double entendre of the action forced a blush from Ginny, and forced sinful thoughts through her brain. Thoughts that she would rather not have until she was safely away from Draco and that insistent pressure between her thighs. She wanted to be much closer to him, and if she didn’t get off of his lap in that moment, she was going to be. There, in front of everyone, in the Great Hall.

But how to get out of the position without the extreme awkwardness that was about to ensue?

Ginny dug deep into her Gryffindor courage and kissed Draco full on the lips and she flicked the tip of her tongue across his bottom lip before disengaging herself.

“I wouldn’t want you to miss out on the ice cream.”


Draco had thought that he’d mastered his self control. He’d thought that there wasn’t a woman alive that could taunt him so, but one look at innocent Ginny Weasley playing the temptress and he’d been so hard that he’d wondered if he would ever be able to stand up again.

Even the banter with Pansy, the innuendo, it was played, it was old, but Merlin, it worked. He had visions of Pansy sampling much more than the ice cream, as he was sure that had been her intent. But it wasn’t the Slytherin girl that he’d found appealing. It had been Ginny’s pleasure, her face in rapture, her hair streaming across his pillows…

Mother of Merlin, when she’d sat in his lap, nestling atop his cock, he’d wanted to spill, like some unschooled boy. He’d felt her heat, even through his robes. Rampant images of taking her there on the table, or hell, even with her there in his lap, sliding his robes aside, slipping past what he was sure would be little white knickers and into that sheath…

Won’t you have some, she’d asked him. Another lust induced stranglehold across the rest of his senses. He was going to have some all right, he would have all he could take from her. Draco vowed that he would plow her like a five knut hooker and make her love it, she would be begging him for a fuck once he finished with her. It was obvious that she was a virgin. Oh, she tried to talk the talk, and walk the walk, but her awkwardness when she’d been pressed against him, the obvious stiffness of her body in contrast to the hitch of her breath, yes, Little Red was untouched.

And the Big Bad Wolf was going to have a feast, the first course would start with the little game Pansy was hosting.

Draco had seen Pansy’s ploy for what it was. He knew that there was a larger chance of being struck dead where he sat, than not ending up in a closet with Ginny Weasley. He wondered what activity she would choose for their door to unlock.

His Slytherin mind coiled in serpentine delight around an idea. He had to talk to Pansy before the game.


“Ginny, you are so beyond lucky that I kept Ron and Harry occupied during dinner. They would have both had apoplexy to see you in Malfoy’s lap.” Hermione huffed. But then she cast a sly look at Ginny. “Was it all you hoped it would be?” A superior, signature Hermione expression settled on her face.

“When he pulled me up,” Ginny blushed, “I swear to Merlin it raised me up at least a meter. He has to be huge. No wonder they call it a weapon.” She giggled.

“He knows how to brandish his man-sword.” Pansy said in a sotto voice as she snatched up a romance novel that was laying on Ginny’s bed. She clutched it to her ample chest. “Oh, take me,” she sighed and fell in delicate swoon across the covers.

The other girls practically cackled.

“Gods, I am so nervous, I could throw up.” Hermione said as soon as the laughter subsided.

“He’s a boy. If you look at him cross-eyed, you will get a reaction. I promise.” Pansy looked at Hermione thoughtfully. “Look, when he comes in the closet, don’t even let him talk. Just plant one on him, don’t even let him breathe. Just go for it and sort the rest out later. Oh, I almost forgot.” She reached into her robes and pulled out several small vials. “Drink up ladies.”


Ginny waited nervously in the darkened closet. This had all seemed like a grand idea, well, up until now. When she had time to think about it. To worry about what he would do, and if she was making this way too easy for him.

But when Ginny tried to rationalize it, it really did seem like the right choice. This was her sixth year and she had never been farther than first base. All of the boys were scared shitless of Ginny’s pack of overprotective brothers. But Draco Malfoy wasn’t scared of anyone. If he wanted something, he just took it, as if it were already his by rights. Just the thought that he wanted her made her panties cling in a way that her mother never told her about.

Oh sure, he was an insufferable bastard, but that mouth, the hard set of his jaw, the stern aristocratic angles of his face, his mysterious eyes, and that Quidditch sculpted body, he way every teenage witch’s idea of eye candy. As long as he didn’t open that perfect and beautiful mouth…

That was when Ginny realized that he hadn’t. He hadn’t been nasty in at least two days.
That couldn’t be healthy, at least not for him.

She’d taken great care in the clothes that she wore, not that he would see them. The same with her make-up, though if she had her way, it would be mussed by the time the door opened.

The door opened and closed in a brisk motion and Ginny backed up against the wall. She waited for him to say something. Anything really.

What if it wasn’t Draco? What if Pansy had screwed up and she’d gotten Ron? She had to obliterate that thought from her head before the bile finished its trip up her throat. But she couldn’t ask who it was, that would tip her hand. So she waited.

“Come to me.” A mysterious voice whispered.

Ginny shivered and she followed the sound of the voice and stepped into well-muscled arms. They closed around her tightly, crushing her to a broad chest.

The scent of pine and patchouli filled her nostrils.

When the recognizably synthetic scent reached her, it was already too late. Lips were crashing down on hers, and they obviously weren’t Draco’s. They were too full, too soft. She found herself plucked, unceremoniously from those rather large and warm arms when the door was thrust open, allowing a waterfall of light to bathe the room.

“What happened to the charmed lock?” Blaise snapped as he was relieved of his prize.

“It locks for me, Zabini, since I drew the number.”

Ginny wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “You cheated Blaise.”

“I’m a Slytherin, what do you want?” He shrugged his shoulders.

“Good for you. Get out.” Draco commanded.

“Big Bad is getting all testy again. Maybe you can help him with that.” Blaise made a show of pushing past Draco, who was just as determined to be immovable.

To the casual observer, it looked as if they were in a pissing contest to mark their territory, but the Slytherins smirked at each other in a strange sort of camaraderie. It was expected.

The door slammed, leaving them both in the anonymity of darkness.

Ginny giggled nervously.

She was actually alone, in the dark, with the Slytherin Sex God. And she’d contrived to get herself there. What in the bloody hell had she been thinking?

“Don’t you want to know what we have to do?” He whispered, his voice low and seductive. “I bet you think that you already know.”

“How would I know? It’s random.” Ginny tittered.

“Because I’ve known our Pansy from birth and I know how her mind works. I even know the charm she used.”

Ginny felt hands around her waist, and she followed their guide to find herself flush against a hard body. She inhaled the scent of him, sandalwood and some other ingredient that was unnamable, but she couldn’t get enough of it. She leaned into the support he offered, willing her knees not to shake. In a bold move, she slipped her hand up around the back of his neck.

She felt him bend down to her and she forgot to breathe. But he did nothing, he paused, his mouth inches from hers, his breath warm on the edge of her cheek. His hands roamed though, up and down her back in a comforting motion that was anything but.

“Don’t you want to know, little girl? Don’t you want to see how deep the waters are?” His lips brushed her cheek now, trailing to the shell of her ear. Then he whispered, “Don’t you want to see how far I’ll push?”

Ginny gave up then, abandoning her pretense of strength and was completely pliant in his arms. Her choice had been taken from her, and that made all of this so much easier. He would take her, own her, and she could be free from any culpability.

“Just a kiss. One touch of my lips to yours and that door will swing open, offering you back to the light. Back to the world where you were playing at being a bad girl.

A kiss? Sweet bleedin’ Merlin! How in hell had that happened? That was Hermione’s…

Laughter rumbled deep in his chest. “What’s wrong? Plan go astray?”

Ginny stuck to her story then. “I don’t know what you mean. Kiss me then, so I can have another turn. Maybe get a more interesting task than just a kiss.”

“I’ve got a kiss for you, Ginevra.”

The way he said her name made it sound more like a threat than a promise.

Suddenly, Ginny found herself pushed into a chair that hadn’t been there before. It was plush and soft, but it forced her to sit up straight as a rod.

Draco was immediately on his knees in front of her.

“What are you doing?” Ginny asked nervously.

“I’m giving you a kiss.” His deft fingers slid beneath her skirt, sliding her panties off of her in a single, practiced motion.

She yelped. “But, a kiss, you don’t, oh my…” Ginny trailed off as he ignored her protests, the heat of his mouth sliding up the tender flesh of her inner thigh. She almost wished the lights were on so she could see the great Draco Malfoy with his perfect, blonde head bent between her thighs.

Unfortunately for Ginny, an “almost” was just as good as a wish. Because Draco wanted the same thing. And they were in the Room of Requirement, after all.

A small kerosene lamp flicked to life on a table that appeared next to the chair.

At the instant light, Ginny tried to clamp her thighs together.

“No, no, Little Red. You’re going to remember that it’s me between your legs and not Potter.” He eased her thighs apart again and she got her wish.

Draco met her gaze, no forced her to meet his. She tried to look away, but he wanted to see her pleasure.

But soon, the ache for him was unbearable, and she didn’t give a tinker’s damn what he did to her, as long as he did it. Directly.

At the first, foreign touch of his lips, a moan escaped her. She swore in that moment, that she could feel him smirk against her untouched flesh.

“Strawberries.” He whispered.

“Don’t talk with you mouth full.” Ginny managed, still trying one-up him as she arched against his questing tongue.


Damn, if she didn’t really taste like strawberries! The deeper he sought, the sweeter the taste.

Her hands tangled in his hair, trying to force more sensation. The more she struggled, the lighter his touch became, until it was just barely the force of his breath on the quaking flesh.

“Draco, please.”

“Please what?”

She didn’t know exactly what she wanted, but she was sure that he did. And she was sure he could give it to her.

“Give it to me.”

Those words, so blatant, so explicit, burrowed into his consciousness. Ginny, in her innocence, had marked him. He would hear that phrase issuing form her sweet mouth in his fantasies…

With a growl, he slipped a finger inside of her and took her with his mouth.

Her velvet walls spasmed against him as she screamed, and when she finished, Draco swore that he tasted whipped cream. The homemade kind.

Her shudders had begun to subside and he was still tasting, trying to figure out if it really was whipped cream, until she finally was able to push him off of her.

“Too much. I can’t…” Her voice broke as she finally caught her breath.

He pulled back from her, rocking on his haunches. Ginny could see the evidence of her pleasure glistening on his lips. Her muscles clenched at the sight and she let out another small yelp. Draco had to kiss her, on the mouth, for the door to open. That was unbelievably naughty, but she found herself excited by the idea. But she wasn’t ready for the door to open. She didn’t want this to be over.

Neither did he. At least from what was obvious in the front of his slacks.

Ginny looked at him shyly, though fully aware, or so she thought, of what she was doing.

“Do you want to?” She asked as she eyed that part of him.

“Not here.” His voice was clipped.

“Why not?”

“It’s your first, I’m not going to take you on the floor.”

She wanted to ask him how he knew, but thought better of it and he continued.

“I want to be able to kiss you without fear of the door swinging open.”

They laughed and then fell into an uncomfortable silence. Draco held out his hand to help Ginny from the chair, an uncharacteristically chivalrous action. She eyed his hand as if it were diseased, or it would bite her.

“Just because I’m a womanizing prat doesn’t mean I’m not polite. I AM a Malfoy.” He pulled her from the chair and without warning, his lips found hers.

The reality of his kiss seemed to impact her more than what had just happened between them. It was more real, his heat, the substance of him. Before it was just glorious, disembodied sensation. In all reality, with him between her thighs, she could have imagined anyone. But there was power in a kiss, his essence, it washed over her in electric current.

And with the way that she arched into him, the invitation in every curve of her body, every breath that she took, if the door hadn’t swung open, he might have taken her there in the floor, virginity be damned.