Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or anyone, or anything in the richly magical world that he occupies. All of that belongs to JK Rowling, and I'm simply borrowing them for a bit of fun. This is why this is fan fiction.
Author's Note: Yet another bit of writing that is finished enough to trot out for the general public, and yet another bit that seems to feature Draco, Ginny, and a rather quick leap from near strangers to bed fellows. This is an AU, one-shot.
Ginny's latest relationship had just fizzled, in a long, slow, and painful way.
There went six months of her life. For what? Bi-weekly owl post, harried lunches between meetings, and awkward family get-togethers?
It would have been better – obviously – if neither of them had thought the other could be 'the one' and had proceeded with the caution of two twenty-somethings laying the ground work for the rest of their lives.
Normally, she would have been rather maudlin about it, except that he had been rather old-fashioned about physicality, and she had thought it more moral to comply rather than argue the point.
And the dirty truth was that she was a much more agreeable person when she had regular orgasms, thank you.
So here she was: horny, frustrated, and single.
Normally, she would have held her tongue, and dealt with it by plying herself with chocolate and romance novels, but she was, quite frankly, too far gone.
Five minutes after she got off work she stormed her apartment and put on a very slinky dress – a deep burnt umber silky slip of a dress, with slits up to her hips and a neckline closer to her to her waist than her clavicles. This was, naturally, preceded by even slinkier lingerie of a rich emerald lace.
She let down her hair so that it fell in a riot of red curl, and darkened the makeup around her eyes. And exited the apartment looking fit to be pillaged or, even better, just plain old fucked.
Thirty minutes later, she was in a rather awkward position.
She had found an attractive blond man, smiled, downed the drink he paid for, and then attached herself to him by the mouth. In the twenty minutes they had been together, they had shifted from the smoky bar to the shadowy recesses of a conveniently located back room, both wearing less than they had started out with.
Things were burning up, but her morals had suddenly revealed a rather inconveniently developed old-fashioned inhibition.
So, with her legs around his waist, and his mouth on her neck, she prepared to kill the mood:
"Here's the thing," she had started, trying very hard not to sound too breathy. "I can't have sex if I'm not married." Which sounded a bit ridiculous, considering her current location, especially as his mouth had detached itself from her neck and he was staring at her, she imagined, incredulously.
Explaining seemed the best way to go. "I was taking it slow with this one guy, and we've broke it off, of course, but I seem to have gotten stuck on the idea of marriage. I want to get married, and it just hasn't worked out with anyone yet, and so I thought getting laid would be a good consolation, especially since I get bitchy…" She caught herself with a breathy hiccup and half a sob.
Ginny Weasley did not babble pathetically to near strangers, even or especially those with a fabulous body and talented hands. But she did tend to get a bit overwrought when slightly buzzed.
"Except you can't seem to do the deed without a ring." His voice reached her, deep and rough with arousal, and ringing with some kind of authority. He understood!
Conversely, this made him more desirable, and she had to struggle to resist resuming their previous activities.
"And you're not in a relationship, and have never gotten close to the altar?" This was said with the abject certainty of an upper level administrator seeking confirmation for something he already knew.
"Yes." She whispered, now not feeling very aroused, but rather embarrassed and as though she was about to get reprimanded. She was clearly breaking one-night stand etiquette, and was getting a penalty call.
She had also, clearly, been working at the Ministry for far too long. Rules and regulations – when would it end?
"Right then." He paused, mulling it over slowly because most of circulation was otherwise preoccupied.
Realizing this, he set her down, which entailed a lot of her sliding down a lot of him, and stalled both of their thinking processes.
"You want to get married. I'll need to get married eventually. Neither of us has ever found anyone who suits." He paused, as if to think it over, but instead took advantage of the moment to move his body against hers.
By the time he moved back they were both breathing heavily.
"Marry me."
It seemed more romantic to pretend that this moment had followed a candle lit dinner, over a bottle of good wine, and had been preceded by several other romantic rendezvous.
It also seemed more romantic to take this as a query and not as a sexual demand.
"Alright."
Ten minutes later, they were standing in some dim official's office, clothes hurriedly righted, and signing their names to the marriage certificate.
The ceremony was simple, and to the point. And no one - not the bride, not the groom, and not the sleep-deprived official – bothered with any preliminaries.
Within seconds of the 'kissing of the bride,' Ginny found herself being carried over a threshold and into a bed.
It wasn't until they had consummated their marriage four times and in three different positions that they bothered with that little preliminary of asking each other their names.
And that is how Ginny Weasley ended up married to Draco Malfoy.
Fin.
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