Our Winter

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Chapter 8: Yes We Have No Bananas

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Feeling utterly dejected, and having no reason to avoid it now that things had come to a head with Ron, Ginny retired to the Gryffindor common room, determined to have a good sulk.

Her plan was ruined once she reached the common room and found Hermione waiting for her.

"I'm not going to judge," Hermione said firmly, "even though it is Draco Malfoy. I just want to make sure you don't make a huge mistake."

"You don't have to worry," Ginny said with a si"bec"because I couldn't possibly make a bigger mistake than I just have." She plopped down on the couch next to Hermione.

"Oh God," Hermione said worriedly, "what have you done?" Ginny heard the 'now' on the end of that sentence, but Hermione was too sweet to vocalize it.

"I told him I loved him," Ginny said, then burst into tears.

"Oh, Gin," Hermione said soothingly, awkwardly patting the other girl on the back. Ginny had noticed that Hermione wasn't entirely comfortable with physical displays of affection, the way she was with Harry notwithstanding. In the beginning, it had rather been like watching two porcupines trying to mate without sticking each other. They'd gotten past it, of course, and were now almost sickeningly demonstrative with one another, but it was moments like this one, Hermione awkwardly patting Ginny's back, that she remembered how uncomfortable with normal human interaction her friend had once been.

"Did he say something hateful?" Hermione asked sympathetically.

"No," Ginny sniffled. "He didn't have a chance to say anything at all. He just stared at me in total shock for a few moments, then Professor McGonagall made him go to detention."

Hermione looked confused. "He didn't say anything?"

"He must think I'm so stupid," Ginny wailed. "You must think I'm so stupid! I know Ron thinks I'm stupid!"

"No one thinks you're stupid," Hermione said firmly. "We're all just worried about you, that's all."

"Well you haven't got anything to be worried about now," Ginny said firmly, "because after what I've said, Draco Malfoy probably isn't going to come within ten feet of me, bargain or no bargain."

"Yes, I've been meaning to ask you about that," Hermione said, "what bargain were you going on about?"

Ginny narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "What do you mean, you've been meaning to ask?"

Blushing a little, Hermione shrugged. "Well, you and Malfoy weren't really trying to be quiet and I sort of overheard the beginning of your conversation. Though Harry pulled me away before your little declaration, reminding me that it wasn't very becoming to eavesdrop on private conversations." Hermione grumbled to herself a little. "You'd think he and Malfoy hadn't been arch nemeses for the past seven years, the amount of slack Harry's willing to cut him."

"I can't talk about it," Ginny said at last. "I'm not allowed to."

"Malfoy won't allow you to--"

"Not Draco," Ginny corrected. "Everything is not about Draco Malfoy. I can't talk about it for reasons I can't disclose."

Lips pursed together, Hermione nodded resignedly. "All right then. If you're sure?"

"Positive."

"Then I suppose we've only one last thing to discuss."

"We have?" Ginny asked, confused.

"It is my suspicion that Draco Malfoy is not as indifferent to you as you seem to think he is," Hermione stated, "and given how ridiculously in love with him you are, I thought that a stone of caution was in order."

"Caution," Ginny said slowly.

"A Muggle invention," Hermione said with a grin, "that the Wizarding community has neither accepted, nor found a substitute for, whether for lack of trying or some sort of enforced chastity until marriage, is unclear." Hermione pulled a small box out of her bag.

"What is that?" Ginny whispered.

"They're called condoms," Hermione said, placing the box on Ginny's lap, "and they're to ensure that, should things get out of hand with Malfoy, it won't ruin your entire life."

"What . . . what do they do?" Ginny wondered. "Do you swallow them?"

"No," Hermione said gently. "They're . . . well, they're for him. You . . . that is . . ." Now, Hermione was blushing furiously. "There are instructions inside," she mumbled, opening the box and handing Ginny a small, folded piece of paper.

Ginny began reading quickly, the red on her cheeks deepening until it far surpassed the red of her hair. Hermione tried to look everywhere but at Ginny.

"Hermione," Ginny hissed, scandalized, "Isn't this . . . I mean, don't you think this is a bit premature?"

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Do you think it's premature?"

"I don't know!" Ginny burst out. "I don't even know how he feels--"

"I'm not giving you these because of how he feels," Hermione said firmly. "It's how you feel that worries me. Besides, caution is never premature."

"Hermione, I just can't," Ginny said, her cheeks reddening further. "I can't and . . . Draco wouldn't . . . would he?"

"Harry does," Hermione assured her quietly.

"But Harry . . . I mean, he was raised around Muggles, wasn't he? So this wasn't a totally foreign concept to him . . ."

"Once you explain to Draco that this practically guarantees you won't get pregnant, he'll use it," Hermione said firmly.

"How do I . . . I mean, do I just toss it at him and tell him to put it on before he comes to bed?" Ginny asked, feeling that the entire conversation had taken a surreal twist.

"You can," Hermione said slowly, "or you can make putting it on part of the . . . fun," she said at last, after searching for the right word.

"Part of the fun," Ginny repeated slowly, contemplating the box in her hand.

"You should practice," Hermione said, "in case he's totally useless at it."

Ginny's eyes bugged. "Practice?!"

Hermione looked confused for a moment, then shook her head, making an exasperated noise in the back of her throat. "Not that -- putting the condom on!"

"Oh!" Ginny said loudly, her voice relieved. "Oh," she said again, a bit more daunted. "How?"

"Use this," Hermione said, pulling a banana out of her book bag. Ginny looked at her doubtfully, and Hermione shrugged.

"Just don't ever tell Ron who gave them to you."

~

This time it wasn't an incantation that closed the curtains around his bed, but a hand that shook slightly from how nervous its owner was. Sneaking into the Slytherin dungeon was easier than she'd thought it would be. Once you knew the password, it wasn't that difficult to get through the common room without being seen. There were so many dark shadows that the dungeon was almost built for subterfuge.

And no one in Slytherin house ever went to bed early; no one, save for Draco Malfoy.

Draco was still serving detention for Professor McGonagall and Ginny was wondering what on earth had possessed her to do such a reckless thing. She could still leave and he'd never know she'd been here, never know she'd come to him with condoms in her book bag and not much of anything under her robe.

Somehow, during her conversation with Hermione, during the hour she'd spent practicing on the banana, Ginny had come to a realization: she wanted Draco. It wasn't exactly news, but the certainty that had seized her was. There were only a few short weeks left for the school term this year, and when it ended, Draco would move on and she'd probably never see him again. The idea of it was inconceivable and forced Ginny to accept a truth that frightened her: she wanted him and she didn't care whether he loved her back or not. She just wanted to hold him; she wanted to belong to him, even if it was only for a moment. Otherwise, she would always look back on this time, the first time she was ever in love, with nothing but regret; and the emotion she felt, the desperate honesty of her love deserved better.

However, this meant she had to wait exactly where she was, with all the time in the world for second thoughts and doubts to creep into her mind. Would he even want her? Stupid question, given that he was a teenage boy and she was a willing girl. But did he want her as more than just a willing, warm body? Ginny thought that maybe he liked her a little bit. He was definitely attracted to her, but Ginny got the impression that he didn't want to be. He would kiss her breathless, then later be distant, or even angry.

Certainly, he was a moody bastard. Ginny felt her lips curve slightly. A few weeks ago, that thought would have been acerbic, filled with all the malice her family had harbored toward the Malfoys for years. Now, it was almost fond. She knew Draco now, knew him beyond the snotty voice in the halls or the indefinable menace Ron had ranted on about for years. He was spoiled and arrogant and could be quite cold; he was also funny, loyal, intense about things that mattered to him, and fiercely tender. And he was so very, very gentle with her.

On the heel of that thought came the sound of footfalls beyond the curtain. Ginny caught her breath, hoping this was not one of the other Slytherin boys coming to bed; hoping that it was, because she did not believe herself ready to face Draco. Footsteps approached the bed slowly, then seemed to stop and she knew he had to realize she was waiting for him. An endless moment passed, then the curtains parted and a sliver of his face was revealed to her, shadowed by the dim lighting in the room.

After a moment of indecision, Draco climbed onto the bed, letting the curtain fall back into place behind him. His gaze tangled with hers, both of them sitting back on their heels, a few inches separating them. Ginny waited for him to say something, but he just kept staring at her like he wasn't sure whether to believe she was real. Finally, the suspense about to choke her, Ginny opened her mouth.

"Draco--"

He pressed his fingers to her lips and shook his head slightly. His hand moved until he cupped her jaw in his palm, the pad of his thumb stroking over her bottom lip with avid gentleness. After a moment, he brought his other hand up to frame her face in his hands, his thumbs tracing and memorizing the contours of her lips.

"You're not my slave anymore," he said calmly, his voice low and rough as though the act of speaking was incredibly difficult.

She understood exactly what he was saying, and it was as though a huge weight had been lifted from her shoulders. He realized why she was here, understood what she was too terrified to tell him. And he was giving her the decision, making sure she realized that this wasn't something expected of her to appease the Order's rules. This would only be about them, about what they each wanted.

"Draco," she murmured again, and he shook his head, bringing her a little closer to him.

"Kiss me, brat," he said quietly, and it sounded like an order, but his stormy gray eyes were pleading.

Wanting to do nothing else, Ginny leaned forward and pressed her lips to his, her arms wrapping around his neck, and his mouth on hers was all Wizard chess and chocolate frogs and rainstorms and Double Potions being cancelled. His tongue pressed against her lips and she opened for him, her fingers sliding through the fine silk of his hair in a vain effort to memorize the feel of him.

They fell into one another again and again, long, drugging kiss after long, drugging kiss. Ginny's hands moved to the tie on her robe, loosening it before turning her attention to the robe Draco wore. She broke their kiss long enough to rip the thing over his head, then went to work on unknotting his tie.

"Wait," he mumbled, stilling her hands with his own. He brought each of them to his mouth and pressed rough, desperate kisses to her knuckles.

"Why?" she asked, breathless.

"I can't make you any promises," he said in a voice that spoke volumes of the pain such an admission caused him.

"I don't want promises," she whispered, pulling one of her hands from his in order to stroke the side of his face.

"You deserve them," he insisted roughly. "I'm not exactly the noble sort, and I'd appreciate you not totally dismissing the few meager stabs I make at it."

"If I wanted a noble boy, I wouldn't have gone looking for him in Slytherin House, would I?" she pointed out wryly, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. Because she could, she darted her tongue out and tasted the skin there.

Draco took both her wrists firmly in his hands again and pushed her away from him enough to look into her eyes. "You didn't go looking, full stop," he pointed out harshly. "You shouldn't--"

"Love you?" she wondered in a small voice. Tears sprang to her eyes and she didn't fight the hold he had on her wrists. She could only imagine how vulnerable she looked to him; she knew how small she felt next to him. Yet she was not afraid. The grip he held her in was firm, but in no way painful. Draco Malfoy, arguably Hogwarts' preeminent 'bad boy,' was the only person who had ever made Ginny's breath come faster, her heart feel still and riotous at the same time, and her mind rest at last in the moment, content to experience all of him that she could.

Her words seemed to settle around him like a childhood blanket and he watched her eyes carefully, measuring, she was sure, just how much she meant them. People said things to Draco all the time without meaning them, without any sort of genuine emotion to back them up. His father's love was the maiming kind, scraping away at what was left of Draco's humanity, leaving him bleeding and scarred, bitterness and cruelty his only weapons against what life had to offer him. Draco's friends were false and, to Ginny's knowledge, he had never had a serious girlfriend. Was there anyone that had ever loved him, not because they had to, but just because he was Draco?

"Is that what I'm not supposed to do?" she continued, a tear spilling down her cheek. "Because if it is, I've failed miserably." She choked back a sob, and his grip on her wrists loosened until the pad of this thumb was gently stroking her pulse point in little circles that matched its accelerated beating.

"So have I," he muttered, then he kissed her, or perhaps she kissed him, or maybe they met in the middle, she couldn't be sure, even days later as she recounted the entire incident in her diary, couldn't quite remember who moved first. It didn't really matter, though; in the end, the only thing that mattered was the kiss itself and how it went on and on; how it gentled and roughened, became light, then hard, the way it nibbled and inched its way into her soul until she felt a part of herself come loose, lost to him forever.

His hands moved to her robe now, peeled it away from her body and she was gratified to hear the sudden, sharp intake of his breath when he saw what she wasn't wearing beneath it. Ginny bit her lip and cast her gaze downward, embarrassed.

"Did you catch cold, wandering about the Slytherin dungeon without any clothes on?" he whispered teasingly into her ear.

"No," she whispered back, still feeling shy, but somewhat less embarrassed. "I did have the robe, didn't I?"

Said robe was pulled free of her body and tossed into a heap toward the end of the bed. He still wore most of his school uniform, which made Ginny even more intensely aware of just how naked she was. The urge to cross her arms over her chest was almost overwhelming, but just as she moved to do so, Draco brought his hands up to her shoulders and let them rest there gently. His expression was awed and she watched as his gaze kept darting back and forth, to her breasts, back to her face, back down to her breasts, between her legs, back to her face. The look in his eyes curbed some of her shyness.

"May I?" he asked in a low, rough whisper.

"Of course," she answered, having no idea what he was asking permission for.

Slowly, his hands trailed down her chest, his fingertips experimentally brushing over the curved flesh of her breasts. Ginny's breath caught and she looked down, watching his hands move over her chest. His thumb brushed against one of her nipples and she gasped aloud.

"Good?" he wondered absently, most of his attention riveted -- as hers was -- on his hands on her body.

Ginny nodded her head furiously, unable to speak with her teeth digging into her lower lip like they were. The last thing she wanted was for one of the other Slytherin boys to hear them. Public ridicule and lecherous insinuations were not the kind of souvenirs she wanted to remember her first time by.

Flattening his left hand out, Draco palmed the curve of her breast into it, hefting the slight weight gently. She was so intent on watching that she didn't realize his head was so close until he was kissing her again. Then, her attention couldn't focus on one thing any longer; it was being pulled in two different directions, Draco's mouth and Draco's hand. Breaking away from her mouth, he brushed his lips over her cheeks, her forehead, her jaw, peppered kisses over her throat, her clavicles, didn't stop until he'd reached one of her nipples.

The first kiss was not unlike the others; soft, almost chaste, were it not for the fact that he was kissing here there. The second, however, grew bolder, the third more so, until by the fourth he had pulled her nipple completely into his mouth. His tongue came out to greet it, sweeping delicately over the tip, and he must have enjoyed the mewling sound she made in response, because he did it again, rougher this time.

Things started to blur for Ginny at this point, but she was fairly certain that she rather desperately started ripping at his clothes. Everything was new to her and she was being driven by something incredibly strong, something that lived deep inside of her, something that was instinctual. She wanted more of him, all of him, and if she had to wait another minute, she would surely die.

There was his chest, lean and strong, the sheen and beauty of fine marble. And there were his arms, long, beautifully defined arms capable of holding her so perfectly she wanted to sleep forever in them. There was the perfect scar that ran the course of his lower torso, and she was suddenly struck by the familiarity of it, of the dream she'd had early on, when they'd first struck their bargain, of purple pear juice, and the backs of her knuckles reached down to brush over the mark against his skin, and he hissed, but she didn't think it sounded like a hiss of pain.

"Wait," she murmured, trying to remember why it was she was stopping them.

"What?" he asked, sounding concerned and impatient at the same time.

"Hermione," Ginny said suddenly.

Draco looked confused. "That's really not turning me on, Gin."

"Idiot," Ginny muttered, reaching over for her bag. She pulled out the box of condoms. "It's a gift," she continued, "from Hermione."

"What's it for?" he asked.

She told him.

"Come off it," he said in disbelief.

"It's supposed to almost totally guarantee I won't get pregnant," Ginny insisted.

"How do I do it?" he asked, looking doubtfully at the tiny foil packet in his hand.

"I . . ." Ginny blushed. "I could do it for you."

Smiling at her, Draco handed over the condom. "Now that sounds a bit more fun."

Blushing fiercely, Ginny unwrapped the condom and, for the first time, looked below Draco's waistline. She pulled her lower lip between her teeth in a display of intense concentration. Tentatively, she smoothed her thumb along the length of his erection. Draco shut his eyes and let his head fall back against the pillows. Shaking herself, Ginny remembered she was down there for a reason and brought the condom to the tip of his penis. She rolled it on like an expert (apparently, when it came to debauchery, Ginny was a quick study) and sat back on her heels proudly, contemplating her handy-work.

"Yes, yes, you're very brilliant," Draco muttered, hauling her up the bed until she was lying half on top of him. "Now weren't we in the middle of something?"

Grinning happily, Ginny kissed him; then, because she liked it so much, kissed him again. Draco pulled at her hips until she was straddling his waist, her breasts crushed against his chest as they began to maul one another's mouths. It took them a few moments to decide how to proceed, with lots of half-whispered, half-moaned phrases, such as 'Like this?' and 'I've heard this way' and 'Maybe if you stayed on top . . . ?' and 'Well how should I know?' thrown around.

Finally, though, he used pillows to prop his back up against the bed, and she faced him, straddling his lap, and he was nearly all the way inside her. Her arms were braced against his shoulders for leverage, and her nails were digging into his skin. There was an intense look on her face as she tried to process that he was inside her, was actually a part of her. And there was pain, of course, but it wasn't like any pain she'd ever felt before and then even that indefinable pain was gone, replaced with a sensation of fullness and completion and was she crying?

"Shh, brat," he whispered, leaning toward her further. Their mouths met again in a sweet kiss that tasted of her tears and she wrapped her arms around the back of his neck as tightly as they would go. His hands moved to her hips, and once they'd both remembered how to breathe again, he began to slowly, gently move his hips, guiding hers with tender care.

Their lips met and parted again and again in time with the rhythm of their lower bodies. Ginny was breathing harshly and she could feel the frantic beating of Draco's heart against her chest. His hands left her hips and began taking new journeys, tracing the curve of her spine, cupping her ass, sliding down her leg to her foot, tucked beneath her bent knees. He tickled her lightly and she giggled against his mouth, her giggles soon turning to moans that mingled with his.

It started deep in her belly, an intense euphoria that slowly began to spread outward through her body until she could feel it even in her toes. A low, breathy cry left her mouth and she began whispering his name over and over again a few seconds before her body went limp and he lowered her back down to the bed, moving quickly, gracefully, never allowing their bodies to part. It took her a moment, but she forced her eyes open, forced herself to be present in the moment so that she could remember it always.

As she watched his eyes, his face above hers, she saw the sorrow and bitterness that had twisted his criminally beautiful features into something ugly and hard; saw it manifest, then saw it lift and, for a brief moment, it was as though it had never beherehere at all. I gave him this, she thought. I gave him this moment and he gave it to me and no one can ever take it away.

He began to move again and she wrapped her boneless legs around his waist, locking them at the ankle. She was exhausted, but she was also helpless to resist him, moved by the same deeply primal force that had prompted her earlier to press her body against his, to kiss and bite at his throat, to clutch at his forearms where they held his weight above her on the bed until he lost his precious control, lost it totally, was open to her, completely vulnerable and, for a moment, completely hers.

~