The Other Side:
A/N: Ello Lasses and Lads! :D This is my very first Fanfictionnnn! Yayyyy!
This idea came to me one night when I was procrastinating sleep and I just had to write it down. Hope you enjoy!
Summary: After losing the biggest quidditch match of the year, a wasted Ginny finds herself in bed with none other than the snake himself, Draco Malfoy. Due to her past with Voldemort, Ginny is drawn into life on the dark side. Blaise on the other hand is forced to see the light. Five years later fates cross and paths collide, throwing the balance of life and all sense and rationality out the window, ultimately revealing everyone's true colors.
Disclaimer: Sadly, I do not own Harry Potter. It all belongs to the brilliant mind of J.K Rowling. Mondo Freaking Bummer. Butttt I do own Eva Gutierrez! And the idea for this story of course.
Warning: I am a MAJOR fan of swearing ;) But I will try to tone it down a bit for certain characters and what not. Also, I am not planning a lemon in this fic as of yet, but who knows? I could get a bit carried away.
Chapter One
Screw the diamonds. Firewhiskey is most definitely a girl's best friend.
The gentle, tingling, cinnamon burn, as it glides smoothly and gently down your throat. The way the warmth spreads from the core of your very being and radiates off in all directions, sending beams of internal sunshine to the far end of every extremity. And the taste, Merlin, the cinnamon fiery explosion that leaves sparks of wonder dancing across your tongue, is simply, to die for.
But the absolute, best thing about firewhiskey is the way it makes you forget.
How with each mind-blowing taste, your problems seem to slip further, and further away until truly, you no longer give a damn.
Today, however, seemed to be an exception.
Ginny let out an exasperated sigh as she once again brought the bottle to her thin, pale, lips, allowing her head to fall back until it hit the cold stone corridor wall behind her with a deafening thud, her lids slowly fluttering to a close.
The morning had started off like any other normal day. They had all been gathered at the Gryffindor table for breakfast, gearing up for the big quidditch match that afternoon. It was Slytherin vs. Gryffindor, and the last game of the year. The great hall was anything but quiet.
It didn't help matters that the previous morning Dumbledore had announced that there would be a special guest from the Chudley Cannons attending the match the following afternoon as well. So naturally, the great hall was bustling with excitement, as everyone playing in that match was hoping to be picked.
"I bwoody cwan't believe wit." Ron mumbled through a mouthful of food. "The Chwudley Cannons are gwonna be here! Watching me!" Chunks of whatever pastry had just been shoved into his mouth flew across the table, landing square on Hermione's un-touched waffle.
Hermione sent him a glare from across the table and Ron let out a rather feminine shriek. "What the bloody hell was that for 'Mione?" He all but screamed, picking up his foot to examine the damage. Hermione responded with nothing more than a satisfied smirk, one which almost rivaled that of a Slytherin.
"Anyways, I still can't believe it!" Ron had continued, listing off all the reasons why this was the best thing since sliced bread. The Chudley Cannons were Ron's favorite team. They had been for as long as he could remember. And after the Weasley's had taken him to the watch the team play in the Quidditch World Cup, it had quickly become Harry's favorite team as well.
In fact, that game was the one that had planted his dream of becoming a professional quidditch player. It was something that had become an obsession of his. The past few years he had poured his heart and soul into becoming the best quidditch player ever. And today had been his chance to prove to the world, and to the Chudley Cannons scout, that he was more than some raven haired boy with a lightning scar and an impending death wish. Too bad one Miss Ginevra Weasley had to go and bloody ruin it for all of them.
Gods, Ginny hated herself more in that moment than Ron hated that bloody git Malfoy. More than Hermione hated having fun. Hell, she probably hated herself more then, than Voldemort hated Harry. And that was really saying something.
The look on Harry's face as Malfoy's smooth, silky, ivory skinned hand wrapped its nimble, elegant fingers around the snitch had been absolutely mortifying. It was the look on a child's face when they catch their parents putting presents in their stocking. His face was contorted in a mix of anguish and disparity, all the while trying to keep a straight face. But you could see it in his eyes. In the way they glistened, almost as if they were on the brink of tears. Ginny noticed he didn't let a single tear fall. He was Harry freaking Potter after all. Even so, he did have feelings, and as blue eyes met green, he seemed utterly and painstakingly heartbroken.
Ron on the other hand, was absolutely livid. From the second his feet hit ground until Hermione was able to slip a sleeping draught into his Firewhiskey, he had been screaming nothing but stream after stream of virtually incoherent cusswords, swears, threats, and insults.
But not a single one was directed at Malfoy. The one who caught the snitch, took home the Quidditch Cup, and was now signed up to play for the Chudley Cannons in the fall. No, every single one had been directed at her.
As was rightfully so, but it wasn't the swears or threats that had caused Ginny to break out into a cold sweat and cause her knees to tremble with fear and remorse. That was how Ron always was. In fact, it was an odd day when he didn't run around with the mouth of a sailor, making an absolute utter fool of himself, and acting like a right out git.
It was the fact that THE Ronald Weasley, the most carelessly un-observant person to ever step foot on the face of the earth, muggle or otherwise, had seen it. Had seen her, her fucking raging hormones, and what they had done. And if Ron of all people had seen, then there was an absolute one billion percent chance that every single person within a thousand foot radius, either in the stands, or on the field, had seen as well.
They would all know that she had been the one to let them down.
However, the person she cared about most right now was Harry. Even thought they were no longer an item Ginny still cared for him deeply. And he still cared for her. Or, at least he did. Ever since the breakup they had become closer than ever. But Ginny wasn't too sure anymore. Hell she wasn't sure of anything.
Ginny brought the bottle to her lips once more, and with the least amount of grace possible, downed a good half of the remainder of the bottle.
The plan, had been simple, a routine that she and Harry had been practicing for weeks, maybe even months. All she had to do was distract Malfoy, once Harry signaled he had found the snitch, for just long enough to keep the bloody git off the trail. And it would have worked too! Had it not been for her raging hormones and that god damned saint-like body, with its toned muscular chest, chiseled perfectly due to hours of quidditch playing, shown off exquisitely through his dampened robes that were plastered to his pale, ivory skin which seemed to shimmer with every raindrop that was lucky enough to be graced with his presence. His platinum hair, not slicked back like usual, but ruffled due to the many times he had ran those graceful, nimble, fingers through it, and then there were those eyes. A dark, stormy gray, filled with thought, intensity, and passion, as they darted across the field, looking for their prey. She had seen the golden glint in his stare as he finally found his target, the golden snitch, and before Ginny could even realize what had happened he was gone.
The bottle somehow found its way to her lips once more for a much needed drink. She needed to burn the memory away forever. But for some reason the damn thing wasn't doing its job. In fact she could have sworn that with every sip it only became stronger, brighter, more vivid, and more permanently embedded into her brain.
This time however, as she titled her head back farther until it rested gently against cold stone she wasn't greeted by the welcoming taste of cinnamon and passion. Her taste buds found nothing but cold dry particles of air. A small frown graced her lips and her eyes filled with confusion as she curiously and tentatively peered into the bottle. There was nothing. Brilliant.
Ginny let out a loud, disgruntled, and deranged cry as the empty bottle in her hand flew across the room, shattering as it collided with the face of a stout, pudgy man with high rosy cheeks. Letting out a rather un-masculine squeal, he fled from his portrait, off to seek refuge from the crazy redhead in another portrait hopefully far away from any type of enraged or drunken teenager. The bottle had burst into a million pieces of glass and dust.
"Why someone's a bit feisty today." Drawled a low, sultry, voice. The words were heavily slurred, causing the remark to be barely coherent. Whoever they were, they were obviously piss drunk.
Her eyes darted up to see who dare to interrupt her thinking. The audacity! By the time she was finished with them…..
Her thoughts stopped short as she was met by two silver orbs, glistening like moonlight on water. They were absolutely breathtaking. They were definitely the eyes that had caused her probably one of the worst days of her entire life, but they had changed. Morphed slightly into something gentler and more serene. The calm before the storm.
Quickly, she attempted to compose herself. "Wha-What do you want Malfoy?" She stammered.
A goofy grin immediately spread across his face. Ignoring her question he retorted "My, my, if it isn't the little Weaselette. Weren't trying to put a dent in this lovely face now were you?" With each word that left him he took a step closer to her body, curled up along the floor, until he was leaning over her, their lips dangerously close. My god his lips were beautiful.
"And what if I was?" She replied softly, her voice was suddenly low and filled with...lust? Oh god. Already the Firewhiskey was begging to take over. That must be it. Why else would she be here in a dark, deserted corridor flirting with Draco Malfoy?
His grin merely got wider. "Well then I'd have to punish you." He replied smugly.
That was when she felt the alcohol completely take over. Or maybe it was her hormones finally giving in. Either way she found herself leaning towards him, his breath hot on her neck, inviting her to come closer. He was only centimeters away now. His lips so close to hers. And then in a heartbeat they were together. His mouth warm and hot against her own, battling for dominance in a kiss like no other. It was steamy. It was passionate. But too soon he was pulling away.
She moaned in resistance, latching her mouth onto his once more and wrapping her legs securely around his waist as he lifted them both up off the floor, his strong, toned arms wrapping around behind her, cradling her gently against his chest as his tongue began to caress her lower lip, asking for entrance, which she greeted all to eagerly. Her hands found purchase in his long platinum locks. Once again, like on the quidditch pitch, his hair was left ruffled.
The last thing she remembered was her body melding against his as he carried her down the hall and into a room, the door behind them slamming to a close.
A/N: Sooo..? What did you think? Blaise next chapter! And his sexy girl friend (for now) Eva!
REVIEVERS GET HUGS AND COOKIES! Constructive criticism is appreciated and flames will be laughed at and ignored!
