so here's a little thing I thought up, it's Draco and Ginny. :) one of my favorite pairings. :) so I hope you enjoy it and please review afterwords.

disclaimer: I don't own any thing except the ideas.

Sensitivity by Alex Goot

Cleared my life
I changed my head
Trying to catch my skin again
I'm finding out what makes me wanna live
By living it up again
It's my world
I paved my way
Found my sensitivity
I stepped back from the edge
Now I'm living it up again

I.

She didn't mean for him to know the baby was his. She never even planned on ever seeing him again. But fate has a way of screwing with your head daily. So really, she shouldn't have been surprised. But she was, especially when he looked at her child with a knowing look in his eyes.

II.

He wasn't sure how he felt about having a child. It's not like he ever planned on having one. He planned on letting his line, the Malfoy line, die out with him. Of course he screwed up that plan when he shagged the littlest Weasley.

III.

She wasn't sure why she had let him take her to his house that night. Especially when he told her his intentions clear as day.

"Just one night." he had pleaded, "Just give me one night. I'll leave you alone after that."

She'd known that she would give her virginity to someone who would leave her the next day. Yet, somehow, she hadn't been able to make herself care.

She had decided that it was the vulnerable glint in his eyes and raw needy look.

IV.

He never meant to be with her. He never even meant to have one taste of her. He knew it would addict him and he wouldn't be able to walk away. Then he went and got drunk. He recalls with a wry smile. And then she walked in with her red red hair tumbling down her back; and those pretty lovely hazel eyes staring at him (he thought); and those long long long stocking clad legs walking toward him; and he snapped. He had to have her, he had to know what she felt like writhing under him, screaming his name. He had to know what she tasted like on his tongue. He needed her, more than he needed air.

So he asked, he pleaded. And she gave in.

V.

She had thought, that when she woke up, she'd be all by herself, left alone, between the cold sheets, to find her own way out. Instead she woke up to warmth. A warm arm slung over her waist, pulling her close h=to his body, legs tangled, breath mingling. It scared her. More than anything else. The pure contentment on his face, and the rightness she felt being there. It terrified her. Because she was already in to deep. Emotionally. So she ran. She left him alone in his bed. She ran from the peace she had found with him.

VI.

He had woken up in the middle of the night to the smell of cinnamon and vanilla. It was in his nose, on his tongue, saturating him. She was laying next to him. Red hair splayed against the white pillow, eyelashes fluttering slightly against her ivory skin, petal pink lips parted slightly. He knew he should leave, before she woke up; but he couldn't bring himself to her warmth. So he planted a gently kiss on her lips and lay back down next to her. Draping an arm over her waist, drawing her as close to him as he could. The other hand he tangled in her hair, loving the feel of her silky hair against his rough skin. He was lulled back to sleep finally bye the feeling of rightness invading him. When he woke up she was gone. The fates certainly had a ironic sense of humor.

VII.

Hunched over the porcelain toilet bowl, the contents of her stomach violently being emptied. Third day in a row, that she had woken to this nausea. It scared her. She didn't want to think of what it could mean. What it probably meant. She didn't want to think about anything that would lead her thoughts to him. Because she was royally screwed (pun not intended). She missed him so much, missed waking up to warmth and tangled limbs. It hurt, it ached. She wanted to see him again, but she knew he wouldn't want to see her. She was a one-night thing, which she had known from the start. So why does it hurt so much, she wondered, tears cascading down her face. Why does it feel, like she'll never be happy again?

VIII.

She was constantly on his mind. The memories of that one night replaying over and over. Like an endless play. He didn't know why he was so taken with her and really, he wondered if he even cared. She made him forget his promise to end the Malfoy line, to never get married and never have kids. She made him want to fight for her, to win her over, so she would never leave him again. He had started, several times, to go see her, and then stopped himself. She had left first. She wanted nothing to do with him. Right? Her common sense must have showed back up with the rising sun.

IX.

It was mortifying, asking Hermione how to perform a pregnancy test. Hermione's horrified expression said everything. Then later, after it had been confirmed. Her families disappointed looks and horrified questions.

"How could you?" "Why would you do that?" "Your only 18!"

and that one question that left everybody staring at her expectantly.

"Who's the father?"

She couldn't answer, wouldn't. They'd kill him, and she had to protect him. She sensed in her very soul, that if he died, so would she.

X.

He spotted her, in Madam Malkin's, sandwiched between the Weasley twins, with Granger and Lovegood across from her. Saw Madam Malkin making detailed pictures for clothes. Baby clothes. He wondered who was having a baby, decided he didn't care, he just had to get out before she saw him. Then Granger's voice reached his ears.

"So have you decided on a name Ginny?"

he froze. Ginny. His Ginny was having a baby? He turned back around and his gaze sought her out. She was still beautiful. She'd always be beautiful to him. But there where dark bruises under her eyes as if she wasn't sleeping god. Her hair seemed duller, as did her eyes. His gaze roamed lower, and he felt his eyes widen and his breath quicken. Her stomach was rounded, jutting out. One of her hands rested on it, the other in the air, motioning at something. He did the math in his head, yelling mentally in denial the whole time. It had been three months. So the chance, the probability was... was perfect. And there was no other man with her, not counting her brothers. So he could be, might be... a father. He gave her one last lingering look and fled.

XI.

She lay in bed with her baby girl in her arms. She was beautiful. She was perfect. Platinum eyes staring trustingly up at her, some light blonde hair dusting the top of her head.

Cyra Aideen

It was such a pretty name. It meant moon fire. Know all she had to do was decide her last name. She was a Weasley and technically that was the name she should get; but she didn't want to deny her daughter her heritage. And by blood, she was a Malfoy. She didn't know what to do. Of course her family would know who her father was if she used Malfoy as the last name. And that would be problematic. She opened her mouth to utter her daughter's name when Draco burst into the room.

XII.

He's still not sure even know, after all these years, what had possessed him to rush to Gin's side, but he would be forever grateful that he had. Because, while it had been the single most terrifying moment, proclaiming his love, yes, love, for her; in front of her family and friends; it was worth it when she smiled and said yes. Even now he believed there was something stronger than love between them, some sort of magical bond, but really, he couldn't bring himself to care. As he stood there, his arm wrapped around her, the twins (Caden & Karel) standing in front of them; and their youngest, (Aela) on Gin's hip; as they waved goodbye to Cyra on platform 9 & 3/4, it was worth it. Every heart-stopping, jaw dropping moment had been worth it.

so what did you guys think? was it any good? any at all? I hope you enjoyed it and please please please review. :)

also, I'm sorry that I haven't updated 'Just Lily' yet but I will try to get the next chapter posted soon. :)

happy writing.

-Cyra