Uniform
Being locked away isn't much fun, Draco decided. It was the summer after his sixth year at Hogwarts. His perpetually pessimistic side kept referring to it that way too, while he knew his peers were calling it the summer before their seventh year, but of course they'd be regaling in their final year of schooling; they weren't forced into hiding for plotting to kill Dumbledore.
As it was, the young Malfoy could be found in the attic of Number 12 Grimmauld Place. How he loathed the dusty room with the plain wooden floorboards and the moth-eaten curtains with the God-damned boxes that were piled everywhere. How much could poor Sirius really have had, anyways? He had a makeshift bed in one corner, a narrow cot with a quilt and only one pillow. It smelled musty and old, and Draco could only imagine who else had used the thing before him. It was the first time Draco thought he preferred his Hogwarts bed to his 'own'.
He missed Hogwarts, for other reasons. The skirts, for one thing. Obviously he never wore any, not even drunk or on a dare, but around Headquarters, the girls always wore trousers. Sometimes the Mudblood wore more casual denims, but they were always loose and high-waisted. Nothing much to look at, had Draco been interested.
Now the Weasley girl… She looked like she might have some potential. Her hair hadn't been cut in ages, he assumed, because it'd been slowly growing longer all summer, and it reached the middle of her back. It was something you wouldn't have noticed it if you hadn't spent months by her side. Each morning, she came down to breakfast with her hair already thrown up in a messy bun. It stayed that way all day as they cleaned or played games in the house. Even at night, before the young girl turned in to bed, she kept her hair in a ponytail. Occasionally she wore the reds in braids, which Draco silently rather liked, but he liked it better just after her shower, when she allowed the strands to fall freely. Secretly he would study her profile and think about playing with her fiery mane.
Did her hair feel like his? He wondered what it would feel like to wrap his fingers in it and pull her mouth to his. Just sink his grip into the thick locks and spend all evening feeling her soft, silky hair and kissing her soft, pouty lips.
Eventually his thoughts would drift back to those skirts, and he couldn't understand how he'd missed Ginny's beauty in the sea of Hogwarts Uniform. Some people were only beautiful because of the enhancements they wore- make-up, stylish clothes, etc- but Ginny was gorgeous because she was. She had ivory like skin with freckles every where, brown eyes the color of Honeyduke's most glorious chocolates, and of course the most brilliant head of hair he was obsessed with.
Imagining her in that pleated skirt- pressed between him and a stone wall- nearly drove him crazy.
But then he'd see her fawn all over Potter, and he would decide other things could be worse for his mental health.
Jealousy
"What do you see in him, anyways?" Draco asked one evening in the 'library' of their shared home. He stood facing the shelf holding a book in his hand. He kept his gaze firmly locked on the tomes before him and tried not to look at her. "He's not even hereand you can't help worshipping him."
Ginny, who sat curled up in a plush chair nursing her own novel, looked up at the blond a bit startled. She hadn't expected him to speak to her and certainly not about Harry. Eventually, she collected her thoughts and told him, "I don't worship Harry. I miss him, is all."
"But why?"
Her shoulders shrugged to convey her uncertainty. "It's just how I feel," she tried to explain.
There was a brief pause, and then Draco whispered, "You're a fool." All pretenses of looking for a bit of written entertainment were dropped. He shoved the book back to its place on the shelf and turned on his heel to leave. He only stopped when the redhead finally retorted with, "I beg your pardon?" which sounded more confused than angry.
If asked, he wouldn't have been able to explain what came over him. It was like suddenly, his body was under the Imperious curse, but it wasn't so much a curse as a blessing, and things weren't so much hazy as he could clearly see every tiny, perfect wrinkle in Ginny's jumper, and in three quick strides he was next to the Weasley girl. He bent over, harshly pulling her jaw to smother her mouth with his own. It wasn't a sweet, butterfly kiss, Draco's lips slanting over hers repeatedly; it was harsh and demanding and truthfully, Ginny thought he bit her, most likely on accident.
Embrace
It was difficult to ask after Malfoy when your roommates were all firmly against the idea of you being alone with him. Ginny took to sitting in the library hours on end, sitting up straight and poised and her hair neatly combed into two braids. Some days she lounged in the sitting area, or helped in the kitchen before mealtimes. Her brothers sometimes came in while Molly prepared dinner, looking to see what was on the menu for the night. As Ginny quickly learned, it wasn't a trait they shared with Malfoy.
She didn't really know why it was so important for her to see him. She liked Harry, and even though Harry was pushing her away, there was a silent agreement that they were waiting for each other. But Draco wanted her now. It was out of character and forbidden and so much more interesting than waiting around for her childhood crush.
One day, it occurred to her that she might just go to his room. If he wasn't hanging about the house, then he must have been locked away in his room, choosing to seclude himself. (Or he could have been out and away, helping the Order by spying, but Ginny preferred to think Malfoy was safely inside of the Order's Headquarters.) She'd never been up to his private space before, no one had, really, except a few of the adults and Harry once. Since the kiss two weeks ago, Ginny wondered what her old boyfriend and her new suitor could have possibly been discussing.
Outside his door, standing in her best casual clothes (brown corduroy pants and a light blue blouse buttoned primly all the way to the collar), her hair plaited into a single braid (the work of her mother), and a nervous wreck, Ginny used her hands to fiddle with a chain around her neck instead of knocking. This is stupid, she told herself. Just knock! It's just Malfoy, you could hex him faster than he could try anything on you.
So, fist shaking slightly, the redhead quietly hit the wood three times in an even beat. She heard scuffling on the other side, presumably Malfoy getting up to answer her, and then heard footsteps getting closer to her. It was then that she realized she'd forgotten her wand in the room, on her nightstand; she couldn't do magic, anyways, and so what was the point of carrying it with her?
So that she wasn't defenseless against gits like Malfoy!
"Yes?" came the drawl. Ginny hadn't noticed the door open, it just suddenly wasn't blocking her view, and one hand was still wrapped in the gold chain around her neck.
"Oh," she answered. "Um. I just…"
"'You just' what, Weasley?" His voice wasn't cruel or taunting. On the contrary, he seemed to be urging her on.
She sighed, closed her eyes, and pulled her bottom lip into her mouth with her teeth. When she released it and opened her eyes again, she asked, "May I come in?"
Mostly out of curiosity, Draco stepped aside and allowed Ginny entrance. He closed the door and turned to the girl, somehow telling her (without really saying so) to get on with it and tell him what she came for. They stood in silence for a moment, and her tiny hand finally released the jewelry she'd been fiddling with. He reached out and clasped it with his own, once again finding that his actions were involuntarily but not at all unenjoyable. He used the contact to pull the redhead closer to his form, and she didn't appear to be resisting, either.
It surprised him that she was willing to be physically close to him; it surprised him more that the corners of his mouth tightened into a smile, and he realized just how badly he wanted her to want him.
Ginny stood on her tiptoes and lightly kissed Draco. She could feel her heart beat in her chest, heard the echo in her ears, and thought she'd lost all the blood in her face. She felt disconnected from the rest of her body and used her free hand to squeeze Draco's shoulder, as if he might anchor her to the floor. His lips felt soft and lush against her own, nearly as pleasant as silk, but much more gratifying than fabric, and he was kissing her back! His arm circled her waist and held her close to his torso. There was so very little room between them, and Draco wondered if there was a way to get even closer.
He didn't exactly relish the idea that soon she would be leaving the room to help her mother cook dinner.
Sunset
On the rarest of occasions, Molly let the inhabitants of the Headquarters run freely outside. 'Freely' meaning there were more than a dozen wards in place to keep everyone safe. No one was allowed to go past the fence, and the buddy system had been put in place. Ginny volunteered to be Draco's buddy; no one else wanted him, and she claimed that he'd continue to be sullen and quiet, so she could get some peaceful, undisturbed thinking time out in the fresh air. They brought out a blanket and found a tree to sit under together. While the Weasley boys were busy scrimmaging Quidditch matches, Ginny and Draco decided to have a 'date' of some sorts.
"What do you plan to do after the war?" she asked him. It was a question that crossed her mind frequently lately, both when they were together and when they weren't, but she'd never really had the courage to hear the answer before.
"Go to Azkaban, I expect. I am a Death Eater, after all."
She wasn't sure if she was more horrified by the answer or the carelessly casual tone.
"But you're a spy for the order! Last time, Dumbledore vouched for Snape, and he didn't go to prison. Surely this is no different."
Her words begged for agreement, her eyes pleading that he just shut up and comfort her. Draco reached over and pulled Ginny into his lap. His nails scratched her back, moving over the bra strap and down the spine. He could feel the girl relax against the calming relief of subtle itch caused by her shirt and noted that she seemed to like this quite a lot. He leaned closer to her head, his mouth grazing her ear lobe as he muttered, "Dumbledore's not here for me this time, Ginny. It's all right, though, these are the consequences of my actions: my own personal hell."
Her hair hit his forehead as she nodded, and tears collected in the corner of her eyes. "Yes, the Dementors will be dreadful. I'll have to send you chocolate by the brick."
"Not the Dementors, Ginny- being away from you." He hadn't gotten any louder, and he used his long fingers to turn her face towards his. He laid a whisper of a kiss on her high cheek bones, trailing little pecks down to her lips, and Ginny thought that with the sunset as their backdrop, this moment was much more romantic than it should have been.
Rumor
"I think you're mistaken, Ronald. Ginny wouldnever snog Malfoy. For one thing, she fancies Harry, remember?" came the don't-bother-arguing-with-me logic of Hermione Granger. She was busy lying on the floor of Ron and Harry's shared bunk, pouring over half a dozen texts on defense and various histories of magic.
Harry was quickly inclined to agree, reminding his friend that Ginny hated Malfoy as much as the three of them. He was a git, after all, and quite possibly the most spoiled brat anyone in the Order had ever met.
"They were in her room," Ron insisted. "And he had his tongue down her throat, and I went to hex him, but Ginny kicked me out. He's probably still there. I bet all three of us could take him."
While his best mate wasn't quite ready to admit defeat yet- surely Malfoy had been doing the kissing, and Ginny wanted to take care of the bastard herself- Hermione finally listened to Ron. She didn't think it sounded like the youngest Weasley had been resisting the 'attack', and actually began to believe that it was quite possible Ginny had been protecting Malfoy. It was peculiar for many reasons and came entirely out of no where for Hermione. The girls told each other nearly everything usually.
Many more conversations were had about this topic, in hushed tones with disapproving glances in their direction. Ron tried to tell his mum about the pair, but the newly formed couple denied being involved in anyway. Shedding childhood disputes hardly equated to a budding romance. People could mature out of silly things like being rude and needless teasing.
Much to Ginny's amusement (and Draco's annoyance), Ron kept trying to prove that he had seen what he'd seen that day in Ginny's room.
Argument
"You can't just snog me and pretend like we're all right, Malfoy."
"Why not? I thought it worked fairly well."
"Because! We're supposed to be in a relationship-"
"We are in a relationship, Weasley. My kissing you to shut you up is not the same as me breaking up with you."
"I'm trying to get you to listen to me, because this is important."
"It's important, because it's your Precious Potter!"
"Not… fair…"
"It's plenty fair, Ginny. You're only trying to make me listen to you because it's about him."
"That's not the only reason. Harry is a part of my family, Draco, whether you like it or not. You two need to get along, and you're purposefully hurting his feelings."
"I don't like him."
"Why not?"
"He's a prat. And he likes you, and you're too good for him."
"Draco, I swear, you're the only boy I want to be kissing."
Milk
The morning Ginny decided it was time to tell her family about the latest installment in her romantic life, Draco met her in the bathroom. They pretended to be only brushing their teeth, sharing the sink and the water and that's it, but out of the corner of his mouth, he asked, "Are you sure about this?"
She nodded, holding her toothbrush still like she might be using the movement of her head to clean her mouth instead of simply moving her hand. After she spat out the minty foam, she added, "It's time, I think. We've been together for ages, and… I don't plan on leaving you anytime soon. So unless you can think of a reason not to tell them?"
It was a loaded question, and Draco didn't miss the numerous levels behind it. He was calm and smooth, just as he normally was, when he told her, "No, there's no reason to not tell them."
After a few quick kisses in rapid succession, Ginny made her way to the breakfast table. She slid into her normal chair, respecting the actually-unassigned-but-routinely-obeyed seating arrangements. Draco wouldn't be joining them that morning, electing to wait a few hours before showing his face around the Weasley boys and Potter and the rest of the Order that would find their relationship more suspicious than romantic.
After clearing her throat, she attempted to get everyone's attention. "So what is everyone up to today?" she asked, clearly losing nerve before even beginning.
Remus answered her question, kindly not treating her like a child who couldn't understand the on-goings of the war. Mad-eye Moody only cleared his throat three times to keep the werewolf from revealing too much information. Her mum unsuccessfully tried to cut Remus off an additional five or six times, but he detailed the missions outlined for the day regardless. Ginny felt a bit grateful that he believed she could comprehend this stuff; not even Harry would let her know most things about the war.
It was probably out of respect for Remus, and her Gryffindor sentiment telling her to reciprocate, that Ginny told the crowd, "I've got to tell you guys something. Ron's not crazy, I've been seeing Malfoy." And then she turned to Hermione and asked, "Could you please pass the milk?"
It didn't really matter what the rest of them thought, anyway. She'd found her own bit of happiness and intended to keep it, even if her parents and brothers didn't approve. Draco Malfoy was a good man, and he freely admitted that Ginny Weasley made him better, but really, he was already more than good enough for her.
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Written for the LJ community 7snogs. Thanks to my beta