The touch sent streamers of shock through her, not allowing her to fully register that he merely had his lips pressed to hers. But when his tongue moved hotly over her lower lip, her mouth opened on a gasp and he swept inside.
He worked his hands out from underneath the blankets, moving them instead to cup her face. He had…he had to touch her. Had to know there was another human being out there who seemed to care, to know there was someone who would respond to him. Ginny's blush suffused her cheeks with heat, and he could feel it seeping into his palms.
His rough fingertips skimmed the edges of her ears, and she moaned quietly, meeting his tongue tentatively with her own. The sensual gesture would have in the past caused him to delve deeply, ruthlessly into the mouth of his partner. Now he was frighteningly content to rub his tongue with hers, to taste her.
Playfully, the tip of her tongue touched the underside of his own, making him jump from the sheer tickling sensation of it. A rumbling laugh emanated from his throat, never making it to his mouth. The tiny bit of levity was encouraging. Ginny unconsciously pressed herself closer to his warmth, closer to his gentle fingers and soft touch.
Voices sounded outside the door and Ginny pulled away first, breathlessly, then froze. It sounded like Professors Snape and Lupin, discussing the day's events on their way to their respective bed chambers. But the audible intrusion was enough. The mood was broken.
Scrambling for her blanket, Ginny began to right herself and move off the bed.
"I'm sorry, Draco, I didn't mean…" she began stupidly, feeling ten kinds of fool as she began to make her escape.
"Sorry for what?" he queried, his voice hard now, no trace of the camaraderie they'd earlier shared.
"I, well, I'm sorry for-
"Nothing. There's nothing to be sorry about. Come back."
When she hesitated, she could hear the snarl in his voice.
"Come back. I'm not going to maul you again. I just…couldn't control myself."
She approached him and the bed warily, and he moved back to his side and let her smooth the blankets. Gingerly she entered the bed, lying next to him and feeling their shared heat mingle in the small space.
"You didn't maul me."
***
She slipped out of bed the next morning before the sun had risen. The dull dawn afforded her only a glimpse of his face in repose, and she espied his rather lush mouth that she had been so enamored of the night before.
Mustn't think about Draco Malfoy's mouth. Plenty of people had desperate reactions when placed in a situation that was stressful. Perhaps sexual expressions weren't uncommon either.
She hurried downstairs to the loo and washed up, trying desperately not to luxuriate in the ten minutes the magically-timed water heating spell afforded her. She'd long since brought many of her clothes downstairs with her, and she sifted through the pile of clean vestments until she could find her warmest, softest jumpers and pants.
A quick glance at the hall clock told her it was five thirty, the perfect time to use what was left of her pocket money on some food from the market and then begin her rounds with some of Snape's newly brewed potions.
"Take this," a voice rasped behind her, and she nearly didn't recognize Draco's rusty tones. It was as if he'd not spoken in days or had suddenly taken ill.
"Are you all right?" she asked immediately, face clouding in concern. She rushed up to him and stood on tiptoes so she could place a cool palm on his forehead to feel for fever. "You sound sick."
"I am not sick," he said irritably, pulling away from her mothering. "I want you to take this."
He held out the neat package of his thick robe, which her mother had so expertly mended.
"I cannot possibly wear that," she said. "It's too fine and would attract attention. Besides, you're much taller than I am. It would drag in the street."
"Don't argue, witch," he said. "Put it underneath your own robes for all I care. Bloody freezing out there in January, you should know that. Plus, these robes happen to have buttons on the inside to adjust the length. I've already done it."
The strength to argue was sapped from her. Wearily, she accepted the robe, shucking her own and pulling the heavy, much warmer material over her shoulders before replacing her own robe over the top.
"If you freeze to death you're not much good to me, are you?" he asked, eyes boring queerly into hers.
"No good at all," she agreed, shutting the door in his face.
***
She stayed much warmer with the added layer, but her mind felt curiously cool when she recalled the kiss she had shared with Draco.
Her intentions had been the sweetest possible, but to have him respond in such a manner…Merlin, it was disconcerting. She found him attractive, but couldn't think of any witch who would repudiate him, no matter how much they hated him. And so far, he'd behaved in an exemplary manner and even complimented her mother.
Her head spun with implications.
***
Staying out far later than normal did have some perks, even if they were only imagined. Unable to buck up enough to face Draco before retiring together, she made extra stops to see patients, staying out three hours after dark.
Her mum came at her full bore with blazing eyes and a heaping platter of food, alternately scolding her for dallying and urging her to eat up. It felt familiar, and Ginny let it go without protest.
Ginny skipped the lounge when she peeked in and saw that Draco was not among the sluggish occupants. There was no way she could stand another few hours of being among these people, these freedom fighters who were cooped up and miserable. Her misery had its own company, and it was waiting in her bed upstairs.
It was getting easier and easier to slip upstairs under the radar. And the confrontation that would likely come needed to be done and over with. She donned her warmest pajamas and padded silently to her upstairs room.
Steeling herself for an argument of some description, she opened the door and swung it open on noiseless hinges. Inside, Draco slept on his side, his breathing too deep and even to be faking slumber. Tiptoeing in, she stopped short at the foot of the bed, regarding it strangely.
In the relatively few days they'd had to fall into this habit, Draco had been abed and asleep before her more than once. And he always pulled the sheets up decorously mid-chest, smoothing the extra fabric over Ginny's side, the barrier omnipresent.
Tonight, though, he'd made a decision for himself and a dilemma for her. The blankets were neatly, precisely folded on a diagonal, inviting her to slip between them, to slip in beside him. Still, the tableau presented was vaguely unsettling, giving her choices she didn't necessarily want to make. Blankets shouldn't rightly have caused this amount of grief.
***
Sweating. He was sweating, and doing it profusely. His sweatshirt was stuck to his back, and so was Ginny. Somehow she'd managed to fit her body to his, molding him like a second skin. Even her knees were drawn up, tucked in behind his. Draco could feel a slender arm threaded through the space between his neck and the pillow, and his cheek half-rested on soft, warm skin. Her other arm was proprietarily thrown over his waist, limp fingers a little too close to his bits for comfort.
Soft breath stirred the hairs at the back of his neck, and he fought to keep down an erection, which would be totally inappropriate, he told himself. He didn't know what sort of situation he'd set himself up for, wordlessly inviting her to join him beneath the sheets. It certainly wasn't this, though it was nice.
I've a hard-on for a Gryffindor, he thought wanly as his unruly cock stirred out of sheer proximity to her fingers. Focusing on the unbearable heat they were generating, he tried not to swear as rivulets of perspiration bloomed from his upper chest and ran down his midline.
Reaching down with his free hand, he caught the hem of the sweatshirt and began to gently but firmly peel upward. He couldn't help but move slightly to wriggle out of it, but he was loath to disturb her. Gingerly, he worked the garment off, earning a small, muttered whuff from her as she affixed herself more firmly to his back.
Tossing the damp clothing to the ground, he felt her murmur something against his neck, and it sent shocks straight to his crotch. Forcing himself not to think about it, he instead concentrated on how damn soothing it was to have someone else just be there, nothing else. Pure, uncomplicated companionship. Even if one of them was asleep.
***
Quidditch changing rooms? How in the world did that scent get in here? There was no Quidditch, anymore. Faintly wrinkling her nose, she sensed that the source of the foul odor was too close for her liking. Opening her eyes, she was startled to see an expanse of pale skin not more than two inches from her nose.
Her arms felt like lead, and she realized belatedly that she was practically embracing Malfoy and likely had for most of the night. Fighting the pins and needles of her nerveless arms, she tried to slide them back toward her body. Dull pain shot up her arms and she groaned reflexively.
"Hurting, are you?" Draco asked softly.
"Oh, god," she moaned, trying to ignore her inability to flex her arms at the elbows.
His surprisingly muscular arm moved and she felt both his hands clasping over hers, the one that hung limply over his waist. His fingers began to work some life into her own, and once she could feel the pain receding, she simply allowed herself to enjoy the massage he was giving her hand.
"Better?"
"Yes."
He let go of her left hand and latched on to her still-tingling right, the arm that was rather painfully wedged between his head and the pillow. Silently she let him work on her, and was adrift in the rather pleasant sensations until he spoke next.
"Take me to the Muggle market."
His words startled her.
"You sweet-talker, you," she said slowly. "Is that how you proposition all the other girls?"
The kneading on her hand intensified.
"I need to get out of here," he said urgently. "I need to walk somewhere that isn't packed to the gills with Weasleys and professors. I need oranges, remember? I could be dying of scurvy right now."
His last sentence took the edge off the first, but she understood.
He looked over his shoulder at her, and somber gray eyes met hers.
"Please?"
It was hard to resist someone who had likely never asked permission in his life.
***
"Will you quit badgering me, Weasel?" Draco grumbled as he jammed the homespun Weasley-knit cap on his head, tying the strings underneath his chin. "It's bad enough to have to wear this thing on my head, but you needn't lecture me in stealth."
Ginny whirled on him, fixing him with a glare of epic proportions. He held his hands out in front of him immediately in supplication.
"Hey, take it easy," he said. "Maybe that last bit was a little off."
"I'll say," she huffed, turning back toward the open door. "Keep your hood up and your eyes down. Last thing I need is an errant witch seeing the famous Malfoy eyes and swooning in the street. That sort of thing draws attention."
"You mean fainting in fear," he said darkly.
"I'm not going to fight with you about this," she sighed. "You are scrounging for a compliment I'm not going to give you."
"What?" he asked irritably, bent over to release the buttons holding up the bottom of his cloak. "What are you on about?"
"Don't be a prat, Draco. You know perfectly well what I mean."
"No, I don't, you obtuse bint. Spit it out."
"You know very well that girls fancy you, and your supposed flirting with the Dark Lord makes you some pretty hot property," she fumed, not wanting to come out and say it.
"Are you implying that I can't come with you because I'm a bad boy?" he said incredulously, eyes darkening. "That merely being in public will cause the few girls who might recognize me to pull up their robes and give me a glimpse of the short and curlies? Is that your problem?"
"I'm doing this as a favor to you," she spat, poking him sharply in the upper chest. "Aside from the fact that I'm most certainly not kidding about female reaction to you, I am dead serious that you can't cause any kind of a stir, Muggle or magic. Understood?"
"Crystal clear, my dear," he snarled snidely. "Can we just get out of this place?"
Forcing her lip not to curl, she turned on her heel and resisted slamming the door in his face.
***
Visiting the market was blessedly unremarkable, save for the low-level of animosity that simmered between them all morning. He made it a point to keep his head down and step even, though she noticed fleeting pain manifest itself by way of a wrinkled forehead.
He only began to protest when he saw them going back to the overcrowded house far too soon.
"Come on, Weasley, can't I go with you?" he grumbled in a tone that was as close as Ginny guessed he could get to wheedling.
"Back to surnames, is that it?" she asked briskly, hefting two canvas bags of assorted citrus fruits and strawberries, thanking whatever Muggle agricultural gods made summer foods available all year round.
"When you act like a jealous witch, it's back to surnames," he shot back.
"I am not jealous of anything," she rejoined childishly.
"Come off it," he growled. "Eligible girls make up the smallest percentage of possible passers-by, and we're in Muggle London at a Muggle market. Granted, I realize it would be foolish to say we'd never meet up with wizarding kind, but come on. Something else is chapping your arse."
"You are," she muttered. She could positively feel him eye her speculatively.
"If it weren't for the fact that I know it's entirely uncouth to insinuate to a grumpy woman that it must be her time of the month, I would have asked if you needed a cramp-reducing potion," he said magnanimously. "Far be it from me to be ill-bred."
He barely dodged a solid blow to his stomach as she whirled on him and tried to slug him sharply in the gut.
"You're a fucking wanker," she hissed, picking up her pace. "I would rather die than tell you I was on my period."
"So, are you?" he asked cheerfully, finding that he liked riling her up.
"I am NOT!" she yelled finally, causing several exercising Muggles to look their way. "It was last week, and I was sweet as a kitten!"
Shaking her head furiously and mumbling under her breath, she fairly ran the last three blocks to Grimmauld Place and was forced to stand there waiting as he shambled agreeably toward her.
"You'd better watch your back," she huffed. "Bat bogeys are child's play compared to the defensive hexes I know, you snaky bugger."
He just smiled at her, even white teeth gleaming. She shoved him in the door, dropped all her packages in the entryway, and set off alone.
***
Draco smiled to himself, collecting the bags she had unceremoniously dumped. He made his way to the kitchen, where Molly Weasley was rolling out dough for dumplings.
"Good morning, Draco! My! It looks like you and Ginny bought the whole market!"
Her motherly ways were growing on him just a teensy bit.
"Well, there's a lot of people here to feed."
Bustling over, Molly relieved Draco of some of his load, and both of them began to put away the produce. Molly questioned him relentlessly on his first trip out of the house, was it pleasant, did he hurt any, did he see anyone he knew?
He answered her inquiries politely, secretly grateful for someone to talk to that wasn't being an obstinate chit. When the items were safely stowed away, Molly wiped her hands on her apron and motioned for Draco to sit at the large, empty table with her.
Gingerly, he seated himself and then pulled up another chair to elevate his foot.
"You know, Draco," Molly said, dabbing at the corner of her eye, "what you said to me the other night was just about the nicest thing anyone could have said!"
Draco nodded at her, unused to being lavished with this much undivided attention.
"Well, it is true," he said carefully, not wanting to delve too deeply into it.
She sniffled. "None of my boys ever say that to me. I'm just their Mum, I'm supposed to do it, but to hear it from someone else, it's really special. Thank you, Draco."
She pulled the skirt of her apron up higher, wiping her damp eyes, smiling wanly at Draco, who was momentarily speechless.
"Oh, don't worry, my boy. I won't be getting weepy. Perhaps a little…sentimental."
Suddenly, she jumped up from the table, her eyes alight.
"I know just the thing!" she crowed, moving briskly to the cabinets and pulling out seemingly random objects.
"When the boys and Ginny were younger, we'd bake chocolate biscuits together. They're too old for that now, but I know you'd love it, with your notorious sweet tooth!"
Before Draco could point out that he was, in fact, older than both Ron and Ginny, Molly flicked her wand in Draco's direction. He gasped and tried to duck the spell, flinching as he felt it wash over him.
When he opened his eyes and forced himself to stop cringing like a house elf, he looked down and found himself clad in a white, frilly apron.
***
Ginny returned to the house again after dark. Upon entering, the smell of freshly baked biscuits assailed her senses and she smiled, knowing that there would be some sweet treats to be had tonight.
Entering the still-busy kitchen (which looked like it hadn't even paused for supper), she stopped short at the shrill shout of her name.
When she whirled around guiltily, she felt her mouth drop open. In front of her, Draco Malfoy stood next to her mother, both of them clad in dirty, wrinkled aprons, hands on hips, and smudges of errant flour decorating their foreheads and noses.
"Where have you been?" they yelled in unison.
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