I do not own Harry Potter or the the referenced songs.
He lies in the grass under the old oak, dozing lazily in the heavy, hot summerafternoon air, listening to the buzzing bees watching the bumblebees tumble by. He caught a glimpse of flashing red, scarlet, love red, anger red, lust red, fury red, ruby red hair, flaming and burning into his mind. The rays of sunlight jumping through the roof of leaves and falling onto the scarlet strands, dances on her head and into his eyes.
Her face is veiled from his eyes, but he knows her brown eyes are gazing onto her sketch book, staring without seeing.
The afternoon buzzes lazily around him and he decides to get up.
She sits under the weeping willow, in the soft velvety moss, feeling the heavy afternoon pressing down on her, she tries to draw the lake, this mass of cool, steel grey and anthracite, mirror-slick, still water, but her hands will not move. She senses the prickle of his eyes, staring at her hair, though she doesn't know it is him. In her minds eye she sees emerald eyes staring at her, gem stones behind glass, like jewels in a museum, but she doesn't wish for jewels, she longs for cold, metal, grey. She also never liked jet black, raven hair, it always made her think of death, and these emerald jewel eyes to her were frogs.
What she needs are those mercury eyes and their cold, unmelting, motionless metal gaze and strands of platinum and silver, with a tinge of gold or sometimes even plain white, depending on the lighting, she always watches him, she knows him in all shades of white and grey.
She has always watched him, longing, lusting ad yearning for him - the boy who bullied her family and friends.
She hears footsteps approaching lazy and tense, she still can't move and she doesn't even want to, the afternoon still pushes her down.
He walks toward the radiating love red of her hair and all his thoughts are hotness and lusting want, even love, he adores her physique. He simply needs to have her.
His head full of heavy thoughts he reaches out to her, crouching down, he marvels at how close he is to her. She stirs and he whispers: 'Ginger girl.', she jerks out of her revelry, eyes bolting up at him.
"Draco-er Malfoy, what do you want?" she asks feigning contempt.
"Depends, what can I get from you?", he smirks.
"Everything", she thinks but remains still.
He feels drawn to her and gives in to the urge of leaning closer, his hands twitch, he wants to feel her peach soft, silk white skin. Her cheeks glow a rosy red and places a hand on her jaw, feeling her warmth vibrating through him. It makes him buzz like the afternoon bees and thirsty for the refreshing wetness of her delicious, lush, lips. He kisses her, softly, searching, feathery and full of care. He braces himself for the blow of rejection that never comes, she avidly, eagerly responds.
Gaining confidence he traces her throat with his lips and tongue down to her collarbone, tasting every inch, sucking her collarbones, driving his teeth over her throat, biting her cautiously, nibbling her earlobes.
She moans as he places his hands on her waist. She is mesmerised by the way his touch makes her body hum, she lifts her hands up to his neck, pulling his head closer, stroking along his neck, his broad shoulders and down to his muscular, warm chest.
She grabs his shirt, pulling it up to see the bare skin of his torso, it doesn't look like marble, it reminds her of white sand.
She inches her head forward to smell his skin and trace his chest muscles with her tongue. He tastes salty and sweet and hot.
She groans and unbuttons his shirt, gingerly at first, gaining confidence with every button that reveals his perfect skin. He moans slowly pushing her blouse open and off her shoulders, undressing her like a rag doll.
Her breathing gets heavier as she opens his belt and then his trousers with shaking hands,she wants him, she has always wanted only him.
He gets more and more frantic, yanking down her skirt without even bothering with her zipper, pushing down her panties to trace the wet slit of her cunt with his long, knobby index finger.
She swiftly pulls down his trousers and boxer shorts, she is so needy, she doesn't even bother to take in the sight of him, naked, with a throbbing hard erection, in front of her, she wants him too close to see.
His slate eyes drink in the vision of her naked body, but she doesn't allow him to quench his thirst, pulling him into her. She has hungered for him too long, there will be enough time to look once she has sated the beast with in her. She feels her chest tighten with the need to own him, feel him and be felt, she bites into his shoulder, screaming as he pushes his cock inside her.
He feels her wetness surround his hard penis, the walls of her pussy clenching and unclenching in arousal. When she bites him, he stifles a scream and in turn bites into her hard nipple and grabs her wrists, pinning them over her head.
His sudden violence sends her over the edge, for a split second she floats in space, the world ceased to exist, all that is are their sweating bodies pressed against and into each other. Then the world comes back and she screams his name, howling at the moonbeam that is his hair. Her uhs, ahs and ohs ring in her ear so loud, she is sure the whole castle must have heard them, but she does not really care.
"Draco" she breathes out, looking straight into his eyes, "let me suck your dick, I want to taste your cum." He lets go of her wrist, lifting his body off her and lying down on his back.
Within a second she has his throbbing cock in her mouth, licking of her juices, enjoying the control she has over him, her tongue twirls around his erection, sucking, licking and kissing. A few drops of his juice spill into her mouth, she savours them, enjoying his taste. With a swift motion she is on him again, riding to his release, orgasming a second time herself.
"Ginevra." he moans softly as she snuggles into his arms, resting her head on his shoulder.
"I want to do this again." she pants and he kisses her softly in response.
They lie in each others arms for some time before deciding to clean each other from their intermingled juices and getting dressed again, but afterwards they can't bring themselves to get up and return to the castle.
They spend the remainder of the buzzing hot afternoon under the weeping willow, dozing too tired to talk or care for anything in the afternoon ticks away into a lazy, muggy evening, the bumblebees stop tumbling and the bees stop buzzing. The crickets come clittering out and the light blue sky turns from light blue to all shades of sunset and then night blue.
"Thank Merlin it's Friday." Ginny says, breaking the drowsy silence.
"Yes, thank Merlin. I don't want to be in there right now." he says, yawning.
"I never even dared to believe I would talk to you one day, let alone...this." Ginny mumbles more to herself than to Draco, still he answers, "Do you remember the year before your first? When you saw your brother off to Hogwarts?"
"How could I forget?"
"That was the first time I noticed you, you were so cute and tiny and then before the start of your first year, at "Flourish & Blott's", you stood up to me and I was baffled, I had never ever experienced that. That was the moment when I decided that one day you'd be mine. All mine. My world was shattered when I saw you moon for Scarhead, but then one day I caught you staring at me and since then I saw you looking at me a million times."
Ginny is mortified, "So you knew I had a crush on you all this time? Why did you never let me know somehow?"
"I wasn't sure. I was so convinced that you wanted Pothead, I didn't even dare to think otherwise and I am not brave and I don't usually risk humiliation, you should know that."
"Me and Harry...tsk!" Ginny snorts, "I had a crush on him when I was small, when I didn't even know him. I could never be with him, though my family, especially my dear mother, would be over the moon with glee."
"But why me?" Draco inquires genuinely curious.
"Because, well, first the obvious things: you look good and you are intelligent."
"You wound me, I don't look good, I am incredibly handsome and you forgot to mention that I am also mind-bogglingly awesome in bed and extremely rich." he says and pouts.
"I don't care for your money and I didn't know how skilled you are in pleasing women, before today, but yes you do not look "good", you are totally, tantalisingly stunning, if that's ego stroking enough. Now the less obvious reasons why I like you: I actually find most of your remarks, even when they are directed at my family, quite funny, though I find the ones directed at others and especially Harry, funnier."
"You do?" he asks incredulously.
"Why, yes and my brother and Harry deserve them most of the time and though I think 'mudblood' is a really mean insult and I hate when you use it, I can understand why you don't like Hermione, I love her like a sister, but that girl can drive you crazy."
"You still didn't tell me why you like me most of all the guys in this castle, Ginevra."
"Because I feel that we are similar, we both have something dark inside of us, I have it from being possessed by the diary in my first year...And you...I don't know and still you didn't turn into a mess, like Neville or Harry. I know losing your parents is something that scars you beyond repair, but having parents can scar you too and sometimes your parents don't have anything to do with your scars and still it hurts and you are broken forever. You can't even imagine what Riddle did to me... I didn't want to rant." she feels like she has said too much.
Who even knows if she can trust him? But then, he sits here, talking to her, not caring whether anyone sees them, so she decides to trust him, after all she just had sex with him, why should he humiliate her now when he had so many better chances a short while ago.
He doesn't know how to respond to this, he knew before that Voldemort's memory had possessed her and that his father was responsible, but somehow he had always managed to keep himself from thinking about how bad it must have scarred her.
"I'm sorry." he chokes out, his chest tight, a dense lump forming in his throat and kisses her on her head.
"Don't be, it's not your fault and somehow I think that in a weird, sick way, the diary helped me, because without it, I would still be little Ginny, who believes that her parents are perfect and can do no wrong and whatever they want me to do is right and has to be done."
"Really? What did your parents do that made you so angry?"
"Yes, really. After Harry and Ron had saved me from the chamber my parents sent me to St. Mungo's and they left me there for a whole month, without visiting me once, I was eleven and so scared. The healers made me tell the story over and over again and mucked up my mind even more. When I came home my mother told me, 'Now that the healers have made you right again and ensured that you are not dangerous, let us never mention this incident again!', and then Harry came to visit and I was forgotten." Ginny feels tears begin to fall from her eyes, a few at first, then more and more till they form raging currents on her cheeks.
Draco feels uncomfortable, he doesn't want her to cry, he doesn't want her to feel pain and he doesn't want this evening to end like that, but above all he hates that he can't do anything, besides holding her. To his surprise, Ginny gets herself together after mere minutes, conjuring a tissue and declaring,
"That's enough, no more tears for them! I didn't mean to spoil the evening. I am hungry and we must have missed dinner. Care to take a trip to the kitchen with me" Draco gladly complies, feeling his stomach growl on cue.