A/N: So this is the first story I've written as specifically D/G from the start (others began as a general story and evolved to become D/G). I was drinking a cup of coffee when I got the idea; thus, the first paragraph. It was intended to be a drabble but evolved into a lot more. Anyway, hope you like it! Many thanks to The Obsessionist for being a wonderful beta :)
Disclaimer: HP = not mine.
Coffee. It smells like hazelnut coffee. A dash of milk and two sugars.
He leaned back in his chair, inhaling the aromatic flavor wafting from the porcelain mug in his hands. He took a small sip and stared out the kitchen balcony. But it wasn't the huge expanse of forest and grounds behind his estate that he was examining so carefully. No, he was imagining the last time he had stood on that balcony—with a woman, of course, not too long ago.
Unlike other women, though, this last one hadn't contented herself with the usual physical pleasures for which a balcony was useful. The last one had stopped halfway through and squealed, "Oh, look, Draco! Look at the sunset! Oh, isn't it beautiful!" Puzzled, he had removed his eyes from her voluptuous breasts to gaze in the direction she was pointing. Sure enough, the sun was setting. As it does every day, he had thought, slightly annoyed that she had interrupted his attentions for something seemingly so obvious it wasn't worth mentioning. But then he glanced at her face and saw the stars in her eyes, her awe at the beauty of a scene he called mediocre but she called wonderful. And Draco knew in that moment that Ginny was unlike any woman he had ever met before. In the back of his mind was the nagging question of whether this was a good thing or not, but he pushed it away as he pulled her body against his and buried his face in her hair, inhaling her addictive scent.
No, it smells like lilacs. Lilacs and soap. But the natural stuff, not the expensive perfumed kind.
She closed her eyes and relaxed her body into the warmth of the bathwater. "If only I had more time for this," she murmured to herself as she let her thoughts and worries go. All too soon, however, she forced herself to open her eyes; she had a long day at the Ministry ahead of her, and she had already indulged herself far too much the past weekend. The redhead reluctantly washed the lilac-scented shampoo out of her hair and drained the frothy white soap bubbles out of the tub before performing a quick drying spell and dressing in the scarlet Auror robes that she had worn almost every day for the past four years. She paused to examine her tired face in the mirror when it squawked, "Don't you have somewhere to be, dearie?" She glanced at her watch and yelped in surprise when it showed her that she had less than five minutes to get to her first meeting with the head of department.
A pair of scarlet robes practically flew through the lobby of the Ministry and into an already-crowded lift. Ginny wedged herself uncomfortably between a witch muttering to herself and a rather disgruntled-looking dwarf. She sighed; there was nothing she could do to speed up the lift's descent. So, instead of worrying about her impending reprimand from the Head Auror, she let her thoughts drift to the past weekend: somehow, she had ended up on a balcony with Draco Malfoy.
She had had too much to drink, maybe that was it, although Ginny knew she was kidding herself. It was the dizzying atmosphere of the party, the sickening loneliness, the dancing, the attentions of a—she couldn't deny it—a very attractive man. She always had a weakness for men in suits, and here was the only man dressed to the nines in Muggle attire rather than dress robes. He had stood out. Then again, Draco Malfoy had a penchant for standing out. She had been about to suggest heading out when he had wordlessly pulled her into his chest. She had gasped and inhaled an inordinate amount of the fragrance that clung to his clothing and skin before being Apparated away.
Hm, I detect some perfume. Well, cologne, actually. And what cologne isn't expensive?
Draco pulled on his designer robes and sprayed a liberal amount of cologne across his chest. He had a meeting with a female prospective client later in the day, and he wasn't adverse to using his charm in both personality and appearance (or, rather, scent) as persuasive techniques. The client had insisted on meeting in her workplace—the Ministry of Magic—and though he had been irked at first at her outright refusal to come to his manor instead, he had also been informed that she had a great deal to offer for his business, so he had grudgingly owled back, agreeing to stop by her office.
As he walked through the Atrium, he was knocked aside by a flash of scarlet robes sprinting through the crowds. Draco cursed and shouted after the figure to watch where the bloody hell he was going when he saw the long red hair disappear through the lift doors. "Of course, Weasley," muttered Draco angrily, striding towards an open lift. He remembered her mentioning that she worked at the Ministry now.
"Ministry? Whatever happened to the dream of becoming a famous Quidditch player? Traveling the world and all that?"
Ginny looked up from her drink, surprised that he had known so much about her from their Hogwarts days. "I was a Quidditch player. For two years. I played for the Holyhead Harpies."
Draco nodded and took a sip of his drink, listening with a blank expression to her recounting of her years on the Harpies, but inside, he was a bit surprised; he had known her to be an excellent Quidditch player in school (although he never would have admitted it back then), but with the events of the war and its aftermath, he had never expected her to find the courage to pursue the sport as a career. "I suppose I was wrong," he thought to himself.
Mid-sentence, Draco interrupted, "You're not a Quidditch player anymore."
It wasn't an accusation or a sneer; it was simply a statement of fact. Ginny nodded and sighed, setting down her drink and twisting her hands in her lap. Draco watched and waited. Finally, she opened her mouth. "There was an incident. I'm sure you heard the cover-up story: I fell off my broom during a match because of a bludger to the head, right?"
Draco nodded again; he had seen that article in the Daily Prophet: a small article about the slight injury of one Ginevra Weasley, but she would soon make a full recovery, be up and about, etc. etc. He hadn't paid much attention to it; two years after the war, he had still had much more pressing matters on his mind than Quidditch.
"Well, it wasn't a bludger to the head, obviously, or I would still be playing. Even if the Harpies hadn't taken me back, I would have found another team to play for. But in reality, nobody wanted me. None of the teams would take me." Ginny pushed a stray curl out of her face, and Draco couldn't help but become distracted by her flushed appearance, enhanced by the tight-fitting, strapless midnight-blue gown that accentuated her slim figure. When she looked up at him, however, his eyes returned to her face. He tried to keep his face stiff so as not to discourage her; strangely enough, Draco did want to hear Ginny's story. She seemed so different from the young girl she had been at Hogwarts: immature, forever pining over Potter and his gang, fancying herself a "fighter" when she hadn't known the first thing about what real war was…that is, until the war had come to their doorstep. Then again, hadn't he himself been that way, too? Never ready for the next onslaught, the next wave of death, until it was actually upon him? Before he could finish his thought, Ginny's voice drew him back to the conversation.
"It was Fred. I—gosh, I can't believe I'm telling this to you, Draco Malfoy, of all people—well, I had an emotional breakdown." Ginny gulped and took a swig of her drink before continuing. "I mean, he was probably my closest brother, and I hadn't gotten over his death yet, and I thought that maybe flying would keep my mind of off him, and for a while, it did, but then it started to do the opposite, started to remind me of him, and suddenly, every time I went up in the air, I felt like I had to vomit or cry or both, and that one time, I couldn't control it and—"
Ginny gasped for air, clutching her chest. Draco, overwhelmed by this sudden outburst of emotion, fumbled for words and awkwardly attempted a comforting touch on the shoulder, but Ginny abruptly straightened up and cleared her throat. "No, I'm fine, really," she insisted at Draco's incredulous look. "I've gotten better at controlling it, but sometimes…just talking about him…I lose it." Her voice had lowered to a whisper, and she stared off in silence for a moment. Draco was about to suggest a different topic of conversation when she spoke up again. "So I became an Auror. It's enough work that I'm occupied most of the time. Well, exhausted is more like it. But I'm good at it. The only bad part is that I have to see Harry most every day." In response to Draco's raised eyebrow, Ginny added quickly, "We just didn't work out. We parted on good terms, but his relationship with Cho reminds me every day that he's gotten over it, he's found something new, while I'm left by myself." She chuckled humorlessly. "It seems that everyone's gotten over the war but me. Poor old Ginny, touched in the head, left to die alone with her Pygmy Puff." Ginny's tone became bitter, and she downed the contents of her glass.
Draco knew that the alcohol had loosened her tongue, but still, he wondered what could have caused Ginny Weasley to pour out her troubles to him, Draco Malfoy, of all people. He needed to somehow sort out his relationship with this woman, a relationship that hadn't even existed two hours before.
"Would you like to dance?"
Ginny stared at him. He looked inquisitively back, his hand offered to her, waiting for hers to fill it. She hesitated but took it. The couple glided across the dance floor, melding into the crowd of couples swaying to the simple waltz tune.
It was a few moments before he spoke.
"You're not the only one, Ginevra."
Ginny looked up at him, puzzled.
"You're not the only one who hasn't completely recovered from the war," murmured Draco in her ear. "Oh, yes, it may seem like everyone is happy, as though six years were enough to move on with one's life and rebuild what was lost. But trust me when I say that the faces you see every day, the very faces that you envy because of their supposed returns to normality, those faces are just as much masks as yours is." Ginny opened her mouth to protest, but Draco turned to lock his steely grey eyes with her wide brown ones, and she faltered. "The only difference is that you've had less practice. Your mask is six years in the making; these people—" he waved his hand around the room "—have been wearing theirs for their entire lives."
She was innocent, he remembered. She wore her emotions on her face, even up to this point, when her flash of anger turned into confusion. Even in school, her reputation had been one of brutal honesty: she was incapable of lying, for anyone could see through it.
Ginny seemed lost for words. The music stopped, and Draco bowed to his partner. She seemed wary of him, as though she expected him to run away at the first chance. The corners of his mouth twitched as she stared again, this time at his proffered arm, but she took it without hesitation. He led her out to the terrace, already with the intention of taking her to the manor. He couldn't take advantage of her, not when she was in this tipsy, emotional state (despite his reputation, Draco Malfoy did have morals, not to mention enough experience with drunk emotional women to know to avoid those sorts of problems), but he felt inexplicably drawn to Ginevra Weasley. Why, he couldn't have said, but Draco figured that Ginny wouldn't have anyone to go home to, so if she wanted a confidante, why shouldn't it be him? Besides, she wasn't bad-looking; in fact, she was quite attractive. He could tell she was tired from the dark circles under her eyes, but her figure had filled out nicely and her long red hair no longer seemed garish but elegant, curled and half-pinned back. "Perhaps not tonight, but that says nothing about tomorrow night…" he thought.
"Chocolate."
Draco blinked. "What?"
"Chocolate," Ginny repeated. "When a woman's being emotional, it helps if you give her chocolate."
Oh please, I don't smell any cologne. But there's a whiff of chocolate; you can't argue with that.
The lift finally clanged open to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and Ginny burst out, racing to the head's office at the end of the hall. She skidded to a stop right outside the doors to catch her breath and straighten her robes before calmly pushing open the doors.
"Sorry I'm late."
The Head Auror glared at her through his round spectacles. "Just sit down, Ms. Weasley."
She sighed. "Yes, Mr. Potter."
Ginny plopped herself down in the nearest vacant seat and pulled out a bar of chocolate, ignoring Harry's sigh of frustration as she ate her breakfast. She loved her job except for the monthly department meetings during which Harry went over the latest updates and statistics. He barely spoke to her outside of work anymore. Even at the St. Mungo's benefit gala the past weekend, he had ignored her…
She walked through the doors of St. Mungo's and was immediately directed to the seventh floor, where apparently a ballroom was created out of the unused suite of rooms every year for the gala. Rich benefactors and prominent donators littered the guest list. Ginny felt a bit out of place, having been invited only because she had been a frequent patient throughout the past eight years and was friends with practically half the staff of the hospital. She casually searched for a familiar face and, to her delight, spotted a familiar head of red hair next to a sleek brunette. Ginny waved and squeezed through the crowd of people until she finally found herself face to face with Ron and Hermione.
"Ginny! I didn't expect to see you here!" Hermione exclaimed, giving her a warm hug. Ron grinned and awkwardly embraced his sister as well.
"Oh, you know me, Hermione. Always the life of the party," Ginny joked. "How's married life?"
Hermione was about to answer when a hand reached out to touch her shoulder. She turned to see Harry's wide smile. She started at the unexpected sight of him before she threw her arms around him. Ron and Ginny exchanged amused glances.
"Really, Hermione," Ginny interjected. "You act as though you haven't seen us in ages."
At Ginny's voice, Harry stiffened. Hermione let go, confused as Harry stammered something about having to find someone and rushed off.
"What in the world was that?" Hermione stared after Harry in astonishment. "Ginny, have you and Harry had another row?"
"What? No, we haven't talked in ages!" Ginny exclaimed. Both Ron and Hermione turned with shocked expressions, and Ginny realized what she had said. "I mean, no, we haven't fought, and we're not in a fight at all." She groaned in frustration. "It's just that for the past six years, Harry's seen me as the most fragile little thing in the world, and he thinks I'm still not over him, so he doesn't want to hurt me, but at the same time, he's moved on, but I haven't found anyone yet, and his solution to this entire situation is to not speak to me and pretty much pretend I don't exist."
Hermione's expression softened, and she said gently, "Ginny, maybe you should try talking to him…"
"Trust me, Hermione, I've tried, and I've come to the conclusion that it's better this way," Ginny assured her. "I mean, it would be better if we could get along like civilized people, if not friends, but in order to do that, we'd have to dredge up past arguments and past relationships, and honestly, I don't want to have to deal with that."
Hermione began to protest, but Ron shushed her, saying "Alright, Ginny, if you're really okay with it, then we'll respect that. But if the two of you happen to be at our house at the same time, don't expect us to kick one of you out."
Ginny laughed somewhat mechanically. "Whatever you say, Ron. Now, be a gentleman and get the ladies some drinks." Ron grumbled but took their drink orders and made his way to the bar.
Hermione began updating Ginny on her latest breakthrough in house elf civil rights when a figure leaning against the wall caught her eye. "Hermione," Ginny interrupted, not paying attention to Winky's latest visit to rehabilitation. "What's Draco Malfoy doing here?"
Hermione followed Ginny's gaze to the blonde standing by himself. "Ginny, haven't you been reading the paper? Malfoy's made huge donations towards the renovation of St. Mungo's, especially in their Spell Damage ward."
No, as a matter of fact, Ginny hadn't been reading the paper for the past four years. "Go on. Do you know what kind of person he is? I mean, if he donates to charity now, he can't be the same person we knew back in school."
"No, he's most definitely not. After the war, everyone who managed to avoid a prison sentence sobered up. For most, that only meant laying low and trying to live a relatively uneventful life. But for Malfoy, that meant turning over a new leaf. Every now and then, there's another article about the 'amazing generosity of Draco Malfoy' or the 'latest accomplishments of the respected Draco Malfoy.'"
"Really?" Ginny was intrigued. Having spent two years focusing on Quidditch and four on tracking down the few remaining Death Eaters in England, she hadn't given much thought to the lives of the reformed ones.
"Oh, he is respected, certainly, but respected and liked are two different things. Almost the entire wizarding community respects Malfoy, but I've yet to meet a person who can claim they're his friend."
At that moment, Ron returned with their drinks. Ginny absentmindedly took hers and thanked him, a plan formulating in her head. "I'll see you two around; there's something I have to do." With that, Ginny began to make her way towards the bar.
"Ginny, where are you going? You've already got a drink in your hand!" Ron called after her. He turned to ask Hermione what was going on but was stopped by the calculating look on his wife's face. "Uh, Hermione?"
"Hm? Oh, yes dear, thank you. Ginny's just going to find a friend." With a smile, she raised the glass to her lips and watched as a tall suit-clad figure approached the bar where a red-headed woman already sat.
Ginny could see Draco walking towards her out of the corner of her eye, but she made no movement towards him, still half wondering what she was doing. Part of it was curiosity; she wanted to see for herself that Draco had changed. But part of it was also longing for conversation with a person who really had no idea what kind of person she had become: a clean slate, or at least half of one, in this case.
"Weasley, you've been eying me suspiciously for the past minute and a half. I suggest you begin a conversation lest I begin planning to thwart an attempt on my life."
Ginny blushed, embarrassed, but twisted to face him and look him right in the eyes before saying, "It's Ginny, Malfoy."
Draco raised one eyebrow, and Ginny blushed harder; he appeared incredibly dashing in his black suit, and the six years since Hogwarts had only served to refine his features. Really, Draco Malfoy was quite attractive.
"Alright, Ginevra. It's Draco."
Ginny smiled slightly. "Alright, Draco. So what brings you to the gala?"
"I funded the gala. And you?"
"I'm one of St. Mungo's number one customers," Ginny shrugged, only half-joking. But instead of laughing or scoffing, as she had expected him to do, Draco merely raised both his eyebrows and seemed to be taking a second look at her. "I mean, a job in the Ministry won't exactly get me enough money to buy a new wing for St. Mungo's, will it?" She took a healthy swig of her drink and felt her head get a bit fuzzy. She only hoped that she didn't end up saying anything she would regret…
Okay, I can smell the chocolate. And also...
Draco followed the directions given to him in the letter and found himself walking down the hall of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. But when he opened the door to the specified office, what greeted him was not the standard desk-and-chairs setup but something that resembled a potions laboratory. A bushy-haired witch leaned over a cauldron, examining the contents.
"Granger?" Draco half-expected her to yell at him, telling him he had the wrong room and not to bother her again, but instead, she glanced up and smiled widely at him. "Malfoy! You're right on time!"
"Granger, what am I doing here? What do you have anything to do with my business?" accused Draco.
"Trust me, Malfoy, it will be worth your while," Hermione grinned as she grabbed his arm and lead him to an adjoining room. "Now, I need to perform a couple experiments—" At his horrified look, she held up a finger. "—that will, if proven successful, help your business. Happy?" She looked at him expectantly.
Draco sighed; there was no point in arguing, and besides, when had Hermione ever been wrong? He begrudgingly had to admit to himself that she probably knew what she was doing. "Alright, fine, but I will not be a lab rat."
"Oh, don't worry, we've got actual rats for that part." The office door slammed shut, and a voice called out from the other room. "Oh, looks like your test partner is here! Come on in!" Hermione yelled to the other person.
"Sorry I'm late; Harry kept droning on and on about respect and punctuality, and I knew he was looking right at me, but I chose to ignore him, so—" Ginny stopped in her tracks when she saw Draco. "What's he doing here?"
"He's the other test subject," Hermione replied cheerily. "Now, I've got to get a few things set up, so why don't you two just sit and chat. She pointed at the two chairs in the otherwise empty room before strolling back into her office.
The two moved towards the chairs at the same time and sat down. They settled into an awkward silence, each waiting for the other to speak first, until Ginny finally exclaimed, "Merlin's pants, can't we just talk this out like normal adults?"
Draco gazed at her with an unfathomable expression before bursting into laughter. "Did you just say…Merlin's pants?" he spluttered. "I haven't heard that since fifth year!"
Ginny glared at him but couldn't keep a straight face at the sight of Draco Malfoy, clutching his stomach in laughter; it was a scene she never imagined she'd see in her life, and soon, both laughs filled the room.
When they had calmed down, Draco sighed. "Alright, Ginevra, let's talk. You first."
Ginny cringed; she had hoped Draco would explain his side first so she could formulate a proper response. "Fine, fine; we both know what this is about."
They stood on the balcony together, watching the sun set. As soon as it had gone down, Ginny twisted around in Draco's arms so that her face was mere inches from him.
"I want to spend the night."
He could smell the wine on her breath. It took all his willpower to look into her deep brown eyes and grasp her bare shoulders, rather than wandering to other, rather appealing, parts of her body. "Ginny, you're practically drunk, which I really cannot understand, considering you've only had one drink. Nonetheless, we won't be having sex." Perhaps tomorrow, if you sober up and decide to stay another night, he added silently.
Ginny pondered this for a moment. "Alright. That's fine with me."
Draco shook his head. This woman was a wonder. He didn't even know why he was doing all this for her: taking her home, allowing her to stay the night, asking for nothing in return. He'd never had a woman stay over unless it was for sex, and even then, he usually had her out first thing in the morning.
He led her to his bedroom and retrieved a t-shirt and pair of pajama pants from his closet. "Unfortunately, I don't happen to have a stock of women's nightwear at hand, so you'll have to do with these. You can change in the guest bedroom that's right next—" Draco turned around and almost dropped the clothes on the ground, for Ginny had already decided to strip off her dress and now lay across his bed in naught but a black lace corset and matching panties. He quickly threw the pajamas in her direction and strode into his bathroom to hide his body's involuntary reaction to the sight of a beautiful half-naked woman sprawled across his bedcovers.
"Just do it. Have sex with her; what's stopping you? Certainly nothing is stopping her." Draco asked his reflection in the mirror. "Right. She's drunk. Then, send her home. Apparate her home."
Draco strode back into his room with the full intention of simply grabbing Ginny, asking her address, and Apparating her back to her house without too much dwelling on the state of her apparel (or lack thereof) when he discovered her dressed in his pajamas and curled up under the covers. He hesitated, and she voiced, "You said no sex, but that doesn't mean we can't sleep in the same bed."
He wordlessly stripped off his suit and pulled on a pair of pajama pants before sliding into bed with her. He didn't dare touch her but held his breath, knowing she would speak. And eventually, she did.
"I miss him. Fred. I miss him all the time." Draco could hear muffled sniffling noises but only saw the back of her head. "You were right about me. I guess I am wearing a mask or whatever you call it. Trying to hide all the emotions and the hurt and the sadness and stuff. But I'm not very good at it." A shaky laugh. "Obviously, since I'm telling you all this. I guess I sort of miss Harry, too, but I'm more mad at him because it seems like he doesn't miss me at all. He doesn't care." More sniffs. "A-a-and, I don't really h-have a-anyone b-b-because," Her voice was trembling, "b-because nobody w-w-wants to stick around f-for all the emotional stuff. E-e-everyone else just wants to…to move on and pretend like it n-n-never happened." Her voice dissolved into tears, and somehow, Draco found himself with his arms wrapped around her, making soothing nonsensical sounds in her ear.
And that was how the two found themselves when they woke up the next morning in the bright sunlight shining through the windows.
Ginny awoke first, completely befuddled as to where she was and whose warm body was pressed against her, and, speaking of body, something hard was poking into her lower back…
She yelped when she realized who it was and what it was and struggled to release herself from the arms locked around her like a steel cage. Her thrashing quickly woke Draco up, who disgruntledly reached up to rub the sleep from his eyes, allowing Ginny to promptly fall on the floor.
"Ow" came Ginny's hoarse voice from the plush carpet; the room was spinning around her and her head felt extremely fuzzy, her vision whirling and unfocused.
"Wha- where am I? What am I doing here?" Ginny still lay on the floor, unable and rather unwilling to get up until her head stopped spinning.
Draco groaned, knowing he wouldn't be able to fall back asleep as long as she was still in the house. "You were drunk last night, Weasley. I took you home to save you from splinching yourself on the way home."
Ginny blinked and thought about this for a moment. She had remembered striking up a conversation with Draco Malfoy at the gala the night before, but as the night had worn on, her memory became blurred. She had a sharp image of a sunset, though, and crying. She had been crying. And Draco Malfoy had been holding her…
"Oh god," she gasped. "What did I do last night?"
Draco snorted. "Don't worry; even when drunk, you're still as prude as ever. Except for that moment when you stripped in front of me, but that's a different story."
"I WHAT?" Ginny shrieked, leaping to her feet and immediately regretting it as she almost lost her balance and tumbled back to the ground. She managed to grab ahold of the bed before that happened, but in doing so, she accidentally grabbed Draco's arm as well. She quickly let go of it, only to fall off balance again until Draco's free hand shot out to catch her wrist.
"Weasley, get ahold of yourself," he snapped, eyes flashing. "I was nice enough last night for letting you stay in my house, in my bed, for god's sakes, but when it's early in the morning and I'm awoken by a shrieking banshee, I won't be in the best of moods."
Ginny nodded meekly and perched on the edge of the bed. The two sat in silence for a minute, not knowing what to do, until Ginny spoke up. "I think it's best that I was going," she stated.
Draco watched expressionlessly as she automatically gathered her clothing strewn across the vast white carpet of his bedroom. As she took the time to collect her belongings, Ginny inconspicuously examined the room; it was simply enormous for a bedroom, with a king-sized bed, walk-in closet, private bathroom, and balcony. However, Draco's possessions were sparse. His writing desk was tidy, his bookshelf organized and alphabetized. Even his clothes were arranged by color and consisted mostly of button-down shirts, slacks, and suit jackets. A part of her wished she could stay and find out more about what exactly had happened last night, but she brushed the thought aside; she didn't want to make any more of a fool out of herself.
With her dress and corset draped over her arm, she made towards the ornate fireplace that stood across from the bed when Draco cleared his throat. Ginny turned stiffly to face him, still sprawled across the bed, smirking at her.
"Weasley, aren't you forgetting whose clothes you're wearing?"
Ginny glanced down, startled to discover that she was, indeed, clothed in what looked to be Draco Malfoy's pajamas. She stared back up at Draco to see a challenging look in his eye. Defiantly glaring back, she dropped her things and unhesitatingly pulled the baggy t-shirt over her head and kicked the oversized flannel pants off to reveal her bare chest and black panties. She picked up the corset that she had dropped and snapped it back on before rearranging her dress in her arms, taking a pinch of Floo powder, and throwing it in the fire. Ginny then paused and turned back to Draco. "Thanks for the sleepover, Malfoy." With that, she stepped in the fire and vanished, but not before he caught a glimpse of her satisfied grin at the overtly shocked expression on his face.
"Why did you let me spend the night?"
Ginny fiddled with the edge of her jacket, not catching Draco's eye.
"I don't know," he answered honestly, causing Ginny to look up in surprise. "Don't think I normally give women lodging without proper payment," he continued, to which Ginny rolled her eyes. "Why did you ask to stay?"
She stiffened. "Well…uh, I was drunk, wasn't I?"
Draco snorted. "Please, if you can get drunk off of one glass of wine—"
"Alright, alright, I wasn't completely drunk, no. But I was tipsy."
"Fine, you were tipsy. But we can both agree that you had most of your senses about you."
"In the beginning, yes. But the whole stripping thing and the crying thing…that was definitely under the influence."
"Ah, so in the morning, when you so daringly stripped to your bare skin in front of me—" at that, Draco's eyes swept over Ginny's chest appreciatively. Ginny recoiled, folding her arms in an attempt to stop his imagination. "That wasn't you?"
Ginny struggled to speak for a moment, opening and closing her mouth several times before finally speaking. "That was…a moment of poor judgment."
He chuckled. "Of course it was. But if you don't mind, I'd like to get back to the subject of that night; I seem to recall you mentioning how your dear sweet Potter doesn't care about you anymore? Something about men who don't want to stick around for the…oh, how did you put it, the 'emotional stuff'?"
Ginny's face reddened. "Did I say that?" she muttered embarrassedly. "Well, what I meant was…I mean, really, it's just that…of course, you know…"
Before she could formulate an actual sentence, Draco gently put his hand over hers, which had been wringing themselves together but now stilled as Ginny furrowed her brow, not completely comprehending the image of Draco Malfoy's hand over her own.
"Just calm down, Ginny," he said simply.
"Since when did you get so nice?" Ginny blurted.
"Since I realized that petty insults and prejudices would get me nowhere in life," he shrugged. "Compared to a war, what's the point of them? I could go out of my way to publicly slander Potter's name, but why waste time on that? There's no point."
Ginny considered this. "But why waste time on me?"
Draco turned so that his entire body was facing her. "Because, Ginevra, you intrigue me. You are the strangest drunk I have ever met. You dance well. You have an interesting life story. You are fascinated by sunsets. You smell like lavender. And you are visually pleasing."
Ginny laughed. "So you like me for my body?"
"Well, not just that. But it doesn't hurt. After all, I've already slept with you," Draco replied nonchalantly.
"That doesn't count," she teased.
"I've seen everything except your sweet—"
"Okay, you can stop right there!" she exclaimed, putting a hand up to stop Draco's face as his mouth drew closer to whisper in her ear. "If we're going to do this, we'll take it slowly."
He shrugged again, leaning back in his chair. "Alright, if you say so. But I guarantee you'll be eating your words after the first date."
"Wait," Ginny narrowed her eyes warily. "so you actually want to go on a date? And not just have sex?"
He sighed. "Yes, Ginevra, I think I've made that clear."
Ginny gulped. "But…what about what I said? Before? I mean, about…" she turned red again, and her voice lowered to a mumble. "about all the emotional stuff…"
Draco made a disparaging noise, and Ginny raised her eyes to meet his. "Oh, please, Ginevra. Have you already forgotten?"
"What?" Her expression turned from embarrassment to confusion.
"What did we do two nights ago?" He leaned forward so that their faces were but inches apart. "I've already been through the 'emotional stuff,' haven't I? You've already sobbed yourself to sleep in my arms. And am I still here?"
Ginny was surprised. "I guess so." At this realization, she smiled, her face lighting up relief. "I have a good feeling about this."
Draco smiled back—the first genuine smile Ginny had ever seen on his face; she wondered how many times he had ever smiled in his life since she could tell it felt a bit awkward for him and resolved to make him smile more often—and replied, "I do too." With that, he leaned in to capture her lips in a soft kiss.
Before they could get more carried away than that, he pulled away right as Hermione came back through the door, her nose buried in a clipboard, levitating behind her a table with various cauldrons and potions bottles atop it. "Alright, you two, let's start with the testing!" She glanced up to catch Draco and Ginny hastily turning away from each other and grinned to herself as they tried to act casually indifferent to one another. "Now, I have several different potions here, and what I need you two to do is to tell me what each one smells like."
"Why?" Draco interrupted. "What's the point of this?"
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Because, Malfoy, I'm trying to develop these new potions in order to further my research in the care of magical creatures and the protection of their rights, but first I need to study their effects on humans, and especially how the results differ according to gender, which is why the both of you are here." Draco opened his mouth to protest again, but Hermione sternly pointed her wand at him. "No excuses. You'll do the test and then you'll leave, and that's that." She nodded and busied herself with the first flask, glad he had forgotten her promise of a business deal.
The first flask, containing a dark tarlike substance, both agreed smelled like Blast-Ended Skrewts. The second one of a glittery purple, almost ethereal mixture made Ginny lightheaded and giggly with its smell of freesia but caused Draco to almost puke. The third one was a bright orange that bubbled and popped but let off no apparent odor to either of them.
Flask after flask was tested and smelt by the pair, with Hermione meticulously recording each observation on a long scroll of parchment.
After about half an hour, they seemed to have exhausted all the flasks, and Draco stated, "Well, Granger, if that's all you have for us—"
"Oo, wait, there's one last one!" Hermione hurriedly cast aside her quill and parchment to lead the couple to the end of the table where there sat a cauldron of golden liquid. "This is it. Now, close your eyes and tell me what you smell."
Draco peered suspiciously into the cauldron. "Granger, this looks familiar…"
"Just close your eyes!" insisted Hermione. The two reluctantly agreed; Ginny, though, had also thought she recognized it from somewhere.
"What do you smell?"
Coffee. It smells like hazelnut coffee. A dash of milk and two sugars.
No, it smells like lilacs. Lilacs and soap. But the natural stuff, not the expensive perfumed kind.
Hm, I detect some perfume. Well, cologne, actually. And what cologne isn't expensive?
Oh please, I don't smell any cologne. But there's a whiff of chocolate; you can't argue with that.
Okay, I can smell the chocolate. And also...I smell wood. No, not that kind of wood, you prat. Broomstick wood.
I smell it, too.
When Ginny and Draco opened their eyes, they found themselves alone with only the cauldron of golden potion sitting in front of them.
"Do you know what this is?" Ginny whispered, examining the cauldron's shimmering contents.
"No, but I can guess." Draco whispered back, his voice chillingly close to her ear, causing her to jump.
"So what does that mean?" She asked uncertainly.
Draco wound his arms around her waist. "I think it means I know what we're going to do for our first date."
She looked up at him questioningly. Draco answered with an eyebrow raise and wordlessly led her out of the room, not stopping to notice Hermione sitting at her desk, watching them leave with a satisfied smile.
As soon as they had left the Ministry, Draco pulled Ginny tight against him, and she felt the sucking cold of Apparition pulling against her. When they landed, she stumbled and grabbed onto his arm for balance. "Where are we?" she groaned, blinking in the bright sunlight but recognizing the familiar smell of…
"Broomstick wood?" Draco tossed her a broomstick which she reflexively caught. "How about a match, Weasley? First one to catch the Snitch?"
"Draco, I don't know," Ginny mumbled. "I mean, you know what happened last time…" Her voice trailed off; sure, he had seen her crying, but an actual emotional breakdown? That couldn't be something he'd want to witness.
Before she knew it, she felt a pair of warm arms pulling her close, and a voice whispered in her ear, "No matter what happens, I'll be here." He held her at arms' length and gazed into her eyes. "You've got to learn to take off the mask. Otherwise, what's the point?"
And gazing back, she knew he was right. She would need to live without the mask. But also, until she did, he would be there to help her every step of the way.