of teases and drawls

harry potter | ginny; ginny/draco | rated m| 814 words | oneshot —

it's her life in flashes and somewhere along the line she knew it'd come to this.

disclaimer; i don't own harry potter. if i did, it'd be a hell of a lot different—draco and hermione would be a thing; pansy would be with fred; fred wouldn't be dead, ginny would have died in his place; harry would have died to change the world and save it; luna would be with george; etc.

a/n; in my personal opinion, once ginny became the love interest of harry and stuff, she became a mary sue character. she doesn't seem to gain a lot of character developement, either, so it feels like nothing's really ooc for her. she's not one of my favourites, but i felt like writing her for some reason. she and malfoy turned out ... darker at some points? i don't know what the fuck happened.

harry's not perfect. she thinks. chosen one. gryffindor. brave. good looking. famous. liked.

draco's perfect. she thinks. death eater. slytherin. cowardly. good looking. infamous. hated.

somewhere, a voice in her mind asks, isn't it supposed to be the other way around?

and she answers—

she isn't half certain how she and draco malfoy came about. it was a rainy day in year one, and she was late for supper. she came across malfoy, hand on his throat, pacing back and forth, as if nervously. "what are you doing?" ginny blurted out, then immediately regretted it. he'd call her names or hex her, probably. he was supposedly a vile git, but she really hadn't had much interaction with him.

"freaking out," he answered. and she thought, he's not the worthless little cretin i've heard so much about.

"why?"

his pale face spotted with red was a weird sight. later, when ginny read a muggle book called, memoirs of a geisha, she'd think that his face had seemed like a possible male geisha, or something. "i'm wondering if anybody has, y'know ... in the lake." malfoy gestured, and ginny stared blankly. he coughed, "drowned?"

ginny bit her lip, "i don't know. maybe. i mean, there's ghosts here, so people have died here before, right?"

his eyes practically told ginny she had a point. "are you afraid of drowning," later, she'd realized that it wasn't much of a question nor much of a statement, the way she put it.

this time, it was a much more furious blush that came in fast, which answered her again—

it's spring of her fifth year and his sixth, and just like the blush she'd seen nearly five years before, their kisses are fast and furious.

fast and furious were the two words that seemed to describe their life. the kisses, the arguments. the red that flitted across her face and the slap mark left on his cheek. "what are you expecting?" a long drawl. "that i'd fall down, yelping in pain," it's not a question anymore because he knows her like he knows the days that don't end, the nights that seem so short. he knows she had expected more from the pain she tried inflicting on him, but she wouldn't get the satisfaction. satisfaction, a thing she longed for desperately, which he kept just out of her reach.

however, it was just her fault as it was his, because she had some morbid urge, some fascination in finding out what made him tick, and how to make him experience pain and pleasure both. on their own or a sickening mix of the two together.

ginny bit hard on his lip, toying with his robes and sneaking her hand in there and down there—"fuck," he groaned out—and then, pulling her face away from his with a lovely smirk on her face, her fingers grew relaxed and she tugged her arm back to her side. malfoy scowled.

"you're a fucking tease, weasley."

"thank you," she practically purred, arms rising up to link together behind his neck, dropping slowly. he grabbed ahold of her waist, jerking her forward. his thumbs circled precautiously around her hips, and he chuckled as she leaned into him automatically. lowering his lips to her ear, he whispered, "i think it's my cue to leave."

and he fucking left her, hot and bothered—

harry plays the part of the perfect boyfriend pretty well. but it was like she'd been branded draco's somewhere along the line, because it was his touch she longed for, his hands around her waist—

she's tracing his dark mark slowly when harry walked up. ginny yelps, shooting back a few steps, but something caught his robes and she tugged him along with her, and they both fell in a heap on the floor. and harry gapes. "what the—"

and harry's dead body is being held by hagrid and neville cuts off the snake's head—

harry's alive but when he kills voldemort he disappears—

so many other casualties—

it was war—

"fuck," ginny leans back, panting. draco chuckles in her ear. "don't you think—"

"you may now kiss the—"

"push," she's told. "i fucking know when to push!" she yells back and—

"scorpius, come back here, she calls out, tired. she's only got one and already she realizes how much trouble her and her brothers had been for their mother—

when it comes down to it, in the end she's fucking fighting again. her son's fifteen and he's by her side too and so is her husband and merlin, why the fuck and how did it end up like this—

"hi." she says and he catches her eye and it'll work—

and she dies for her son, for his father, for people—

and she remembers her life in flashes before she dies, and smiles at harry as draco takes the chance to kill him.