A/N: Yay, first chapter! I've been wanting to do this plot for a while. Basically, Ron thinks he knocked up Hermione and pleads Ginny to go to some research at the library. She does, and while she's there, she runs into an unpleasant enemy; Draco Malfoy thinks she's done this because she's been with Harry, and threatens to tell the whole school if she doesn't comply to his demands. Then things go from there, as you'll see later on. ;D This'll be a two-shot with each chapter.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter books, nor do I own JK Rowling, Ginny Weasly, or Draco Malfoy(though I wish I did). This plot isn't mine; my friend Jess created it and I decided to make it into a fanfiction. Ummm, I think that's all. Enjoy. (:
P.S. The title means Forbidden Desire in latin. I used latin because I'm pretty sure thats the language JK Rowling uses to name her spells and such. Also note that I'm REALLY bad at editing, and I never look at the screen or keyboard while I type because I'm too busy conjuring the scene in my head, so I probably have a kajillion typos in here. Sorry about that. ;D Okay, NOW enjoy the story. xD
Chaper 1: Innocence
"No, Ronald." My voice was direct and clear, with a thick layer of authority coating it. And despite that, Ron was herding me. I stepped back, one foot behind the other, though I didn't need to ask where he was trying to lead me. The library, of course. I glowered at his pleading expression.
"Please, Ginny! Please, I really don't want to go in there alone. Honestly, I don't want to go in there at all." He grumbled, his many freckles shifting as he creased his forehead. I shook my head furiously, folding my arms over my chest.
"Don't muggles have these sorts of things?" I asked scathingly, my eyes narrowing.
"Hermione's too nervous to ask her parents, much less mine." He informed me, and I turned scarlet and looked away. I didn't even want to think of Mum and Dad's reaction if they found out Ron and Hermione were…
"Get Hermione to do it, Ron! She's a thousand times quicker and brighter than me, anyways." I snapped, stating the obvious truth.
"Ginny, if Hermione does it, then the librarian will know it was her. You're a perfectly innocent alibi." He explained, following my movements by crossing his own arms. Neither of us was giving in so easily, it seemed. How was it that Ron had a counter for every one of my reasons? Had he planned this conversation in his head or what? It took me three seconds to figure that out. No, he wasn't smart enough for that. Hermione was. My gaze flickered over him, almost expecting him to pull out a piece of parchment; apparently Hermione hadn't written him a script. Oh well, I still knew she had something to do with Ron's sudden brightness. I opened my mouth, searching my brain for a retort, but before I could think of something clever and plausible to use, my back hit the door of the library. I let out a shocked squeak, and then grimaced. I was wrong. One of us was giving in easily. He seemed to realize his victory, because he grinned and pecked me quickly on the cheek. I rolled my eyes.
"You could have thought of this before you decided to go all 'home run' on Hermione, you know." I insulted, hoping the words would sting him at least a little. I was hardly shocked when his smile remained, unfaltering.
"Thanks, Ginny. I owe you."
"I'll hold you to that."
He strode off, chuckling slightly and probably giddy with triumph. Ron was so easy to please sometimes. And so easy to be persuaded by. I scowled at his retreating figure, then whirled around and threw the doors open, muttering a string of profanities quietly under my breath as the vulture-like old woman looked up from behind the desk. Well that ruined my plan. I didn't want her to have seen me, and now she was more than likely going to go poking through my books the moment I settled. I did not want the old bat to think that I was researching a pregnancy test potion for myself. I tried not to think of the horror if that were the case. Grimacing, I sauntered as casually as I was able around the isles, pretending to be interested in things that were far off of my desired subject. Well, not so much desired as forced. I reminded myself to think of something excruciating and slow to put Ron through as a payback to me. When I could no longer feel beady black eyes boring into my back, I turned slowly, picking out a thick, leather-bound book and pretending to flip through it—I was actually gazing at her from the corner of my eye.
After a few moments, she stood, holding a file of papers in her hand, and bustled off to a secret passageway behind the desk. I wasn't in the least bit surprised—Hogwarts was full of too many bloody hidden entrances—but I made another mental note, to ask George and Fred is they already knew about that particular one, and then replaced the book on the shelf. Then, taking advantage of my time, I hurried over to the potions section and began piling books into my arms. It took me four rounds to get all of the books that had even the slightest relevance to pregnancy, and when I was done there was a fort around my table. I sat sloppily, not bothering to tuck my ruffled black skirt under me as I plopped down cross legged behind my little wall of books. I tugged my white sleeves back, rolled my hair into a messy ponytail, and pulled out the first book. The sun that slanted through the high, arched windows taunted me, and only made my mood sourer. Why was Ron so damn selfish? I was a fifth-year, and he still treated me like a child! Several times through my search I thought about abandoning the idea completely; the pile of discarded books at my feet only grew, and discouraged my hopes more. And then I forced myself to think of Hermione—not Ron—and I knew she really and truly needed this from me, as a friend. Sighing, I tossed the eighteenth unsuccessful book aside and tugged another one out, exhaustedly now. The few notes on the parchment beside me were feeble, and I had a feeling this would be going on for quite a while. While I was ranting, I heard a door open and figured the librarian had come back, but didn't worry; all of my books were easily innocent potions books, and all I would have to do if she rounded the corner was stuff the piece of parchment into my pocket. Besides, I felt safe here in my little box of dusty books.
Grumbling quiet curses at Ronald to myself, I began flipping through the pages of the book beside me at light speed, my eyes scanning the name of the potion before I moved on. No Pregnancy test potions. I sighed, and tossed the book into the pile with the others. Three books later and halfway through, the miracle fell into my view. I jumped up, suddenly extremely pleased with myself. The potion looked old but simple; I scribbled it down quickly and sloppily, and then began to gather my things. I did not see his pale hand swipe out, swiftly taking my piece of parchment and glancing at it with bored gray eyes. My breath rushed from me as I looked up at him. Crap, crap, crap. Damn it all. A million curses flew through my mind in that one second that it took for his to scan the title on my parchment. Obviously, he didn't need to read more except for the few words I had written untidily at the top of the potion: Pregnancy Test.
When his piercing eyes met mine, I felt the heat rush across my face, and I was certain that my cheeks matched my hair. He only grinned, an amused and playful sort of expression that was much different from his usual sneer. I think I was about to hyperventilate. Angrily and embarrassedly, I snatched the paper from his hands and reached behind me to slam the open book shut. I rolled the parchment while I waited for his snide comment, stuffing it in the pocket of my school robes—which were lying on the chair beside him—then made a reach for my wand. His hand was too fast again, and I was caught off guard by the sudden closeness of his face next to mine. His slender fingers wrapped around my wrist to pull it away from my robes, and he pressed me against the table; my wand clattered to the floor and my eyes widened slightly. I caught the expression in his eyes before he composed himself and sneered—my initial anger returned the moment that his normal behavior toward me had returned.
"So, Ginevra Weasly and Harry Potter, huh?" He said, his blonde eyebrows lifting very slightly upwards. Usually, I hated it when people called me by my full first name, but in his silky tone—where was his oily, snide voice?!—it sent a shiver from my scalp down my spine. He smirked, closing his eyes momentarily.
"Go away, Draco, it's none of your business." Woah, when had I started calling him by his first name? It was just a slip-up; my mind was currently preoccupied with trying to think of a plausible reason to explain the current situation. His warm breath on my face snapped me out of my thoughts, and my heart stuttered frantically. He snorted at my attempt at anger and toughness.
"You're a poor liar."
"Who said I was lying?"
"I did." When he spoke those two words, they were velvet and deadly—and made my stuttering heart break into a frantic gallop.
"Go away, Draco." I repeated, my voice no more than a breathless gasp. To my utter surprise, he complied. His body slid deftly away from mine, and he took a few steps back. I realized with a jolt that his was twirling my wand in between his fingers. When had that happened? I couldn't find and coherent thoughts. He waited patiently, until my heart slowed and my breathing returned to normal. I felt the flush of anger cross my face again. He sneered.
"So I was thinking, this is a pretty funny story to tell the Slytherins, huh?" He said, gazing at my wand intently.
"You wouldn't." I hissed through my teeth, the breathtaking moment that had just happened all but forgotten.
"I wonder what your brothers would say. I take it he doesn't know." He commented, still watching my wand blur between his slender fingers.
"Don't you dare."
"Mmm. Why shouldn't I?" I didn't respond, my face blank as I stared at his unfathomable expression.
"I have an idea. How about you spend the rest of the day thinking about it, and come dusk, you can meet me back here and provide me with a suggestion that you think I might…" He paused, his unfathomable expression becoming sly. "Appeal to." I lost my breath again; his eyes had gone fierce again and he was suddenly very close again. My mind whirred. He took my right hand—which for some reason was balled into a fist—and gently unfurled it and pressed my wand to my palm. He was too close, much, much too close, for me to argue.
"Okay." I stammered, unsure of what I was really agreeing to at the time.
His grin made my heart jump. "Good." He purred, lifting his hand to brush it gently against my collar bone. My face turned red again, but this time it wasn't from anger or embarrassment. I stood immobile as he turned around and walked away from me, out of the doors and out of sight. What the bloody hell had just happened?