Chapter 2:
To say that Ginny was furious was an understatement. She was beyond that futile emotion now.
There was really no question of her missing the dinner with Malfoy. He could ruin BFW if he tampered in their advertising plans. She couldn't imagine doing that to Lavender, or Seamus, or any of their employees. They had all worked far too hard to get to this point.
In no mood to present the new offer from Malfoy Enterprises to her partners, she had put that particular meeting off until the next day. Pulling her wand from the special pocket inside her suit jacket, she pointed it at the empty coffee mug that sat on her desk.
"Reducto," she said sharply, watching in satisfaction as the drinking vessel was suddenly made up of ceramic pieces on the carpet of her office.
Malfoy had effectively forced her hand, and she hated him for it. Ginny had spent the better part of the afternoon researching alternatives, and he had been right. The only option was really to ask Quidditch shops to carry their merchandise along with pamphlets, and that really was not good enough. Plus, she had a sinking feeling that Malfoy's influence would extend there as well.
Ginny had also been checking up on the Malfoy Enterprises holdings, and again Malfoy had spoken the absolute truth. Apparently, Malfoy had quietly become a media tycoon. It was infuriating. No other revenue for advertising would come close to what he had control over.
What's more, she hated the fact that she could feel a frisson of attraction run through her in his company. It had felt the same as that one meeting in the library at Hogwarts, but magnified somehow.
Pacing the floor in her office, she thought back on her meeting with Malfoy. Growling under her breath, she kicked her shoes off upon deciding she was in no mood to deal with high heels.
"Jackass…. Bastard… Wanker… Bugger… Fuckwad…" It felt good to get some of the anger out in verbal form.
"Wear a dress," she mocked his silky voice in a high-pitched falsetto. Then, she concentrated on his arrogant face then imaging her fist connecting painfully with his nose.
Just as she was getting to a really satisfying crunch of bones breaking, and blood spewing, there came a knock on her door.
"Yes?" Ginny mentally shook herself, trying to not scare whomever was about to enter by the look of her in her crazed state.
"Ginny?" Colin Creevey's voice called before he actually made his way into the room. "Gin, I have the latest proofs from the shoot with Wood on the pitch."
"How do they look?"
"Amazing. I got some great action shots of him on his broom, along with him walking off the pitch wearing one of our sweaters. The colours look great, the focus is perfect and I just need your final go-ahead."
"Great, I'll take a look at them tonight," Ginny winced before continuing, "actually, I'll have to look at the tomorrow."
Colin looked at her with interest. "You? Not working for once?"
"It happens," she responded dryly, making a point of looking at the clock across the room.
"It never happens," Colin denied vehemently. "I've worked for you for three years, and I have yet to see you take a vacation. You work every night, and the only social life you really have is drinks with your girlfriends on Fridays, and dinner at your parent's on Sundays."
"Have you been following me?" Ginny glared at him. It was not the best time to provoke her temper, and she felt fully justified in telling off the nosy photographer who seemed to forget that he was technically her employee.
"No need. You're the biggest creature of habit I know," he grinned cheerfully. "So, what are you up to tonight?"
"That would be none of your bloody business." She sat down behind her desk and ruffled some papers importantly.
Colin, completely ignoring her hint, took the seat directly opposite. A large grin crinkled the corners of his bright blue eyes, before he asked her innocently, "its Harry, isn't it?"
"Merlin!" Ginny threw out in mild disgust. "Harry's another prat brother. Here, I have an idea, why don't you go and earn your money for once?"
"Nothing doing until you look over those proofs." Colin leaned back, raising one long leg to rest his ankle on his knee. "Is it that new bloke in accounting? Padma has been salivating after him."
Ginny rested her forehead on her desk for a brief moment. "Colin, please. I need to work. You need to be elsewhere."
With a final grin, he levered himself up, and sauntered away. "Tell me about it tomorrow!"
A creative, and yet rude hand gesture was his farewell from the frustrated redhead.
Ginny left her office earlier than usual that evening, unable to think beyond what Malfoy had said to her earlier in the day.
Her apartment was dark, lonely, and Ginny again pushed the idea of getting a cat out of her mind. That would simply solidify her sad existence to her mum… and, if she was honest, to herself as well.
Scrounging through her icebox, Ginny made herself a snack of apple, cheese, and baguette before deciding to try to get over those proofs.
It was a few minutes before Ginny started to wonder if perhaps Colin had had a point. Was she really a creature of habit? But, if she were, just if, mind you; would that be such a bad thing? Habits, schedules, routines ensured that the world kept turning as per usual, without which there would be complete and utter anarchy.
At least, that's what she assured herself.
Ginny checked the clock on her wall, noting that it was getting dangerously close to 'Get moving or you will be late!'
Rushing through her usual makeup charms, she lingered over her hair, before pointing her wand and forcing it into a tight, low twist. Turning her head from side to side, she looked herself over with a critical eye, before nodding with satisfaction and muttering a sticking charm to ensure that everything would stay in place.
Ginny made her way to her wardrobe, and spent long moments perusing the selection within. Nothing screamed "hands off, Malfoy" in the way that she was looking for, and it was getting ever closer to eight o'clock.
Shoving the gown that she had worn to the Ministry Christmas Ball a few years prior to one side to see the back of the tight space, she smirked. She had her dress.
The Truffle was the place to see and be seen in the wizarding world. Located just north of Diagon Alley, it was known for its dark intimate corners, its famous patrons, and its soufflé.
Ginny gripped her formal robes to her protectively against the inevitable gathering of rabid reporters and photographers that lined her route up the steps from the apparition point to the main door of the expensive dining spot. They were out in full force, despite it being a rather innocuous Thursday evening. Thankfully, it appeared that the newest Quidditch celebrity was a few meters behind her, and she nimbly picked through the crowd who were busy screaming for his attention.
A maitre-de swept her inside the establishment, and without further ado, assisted her with her outer robes. Ginny tried to interrupt to give him her name, but he simply smiled and spoke in a quiet and professional voice, "good evening, Miss. Weasley. We have been expecting you. Mr. Malfoy is right this way."
Despite herself, Ginny felt her eyebrows quirk in surprise. Clearly, Malfoy had even more influence than she had gathered to get such preferential treatment in a place such as this. She walked past the many tables, trying not to gawk at the fact that the amount of sparkling jewels could have bought and paid for her childhood home many times over.
The elegantly dressed wait-staff also served to intimidate her to a certain degree. Suddenly, Ginny was supremely conscious of her ridiculous outfit and she made a concentrated effort to keep her head high, and her back ramrod straight.
She was shown to a beautifully appointed private room, where Malfoy stepped from a dark corner upon her arrival. The maitre-de seemed to simply vanish from the room as Ginny stared at her dinner guest. He looked… well, she chose not to linger over her impressions of Draco Malfoy in formal attire. Adequate would be the word she would settle on a few days later.
A bottle of what looked to be very expensive white wine sat chilling in an ice bucket, while another of red stood on darkly gleaming side table breathing. Ginny breathed in a sigh of relief. Alcohol. That would definitely help.
Malfoy motioned for her to stand still, just a few steps in from the door. Sucking in a breath to tell him exactly what she thought of him and his high-handed tactics, Ginny found herself frozen in place as his bright eyes caught and held her own.
Radiating satisfaction, Malfoy proceeded to walk around her in a fashion not unlike a stalking panther, looking her over in the flickering candlelight. Free from the hypnotic gleam of his silvery eyes, she was startled to hear a low chuckle emit from his throat, and turned slightly to glare at him.
Smirking, he moved to her side, and held out an arm in a calmly polite manner, an arch of a pale eyebrow seeming to dare her to touch him of her own volition.
Refusing to play his game, she stared at him stonily, before moving to the elegantly laid table. He was again beside her in an instant, sweeping her chair away from the table, helping her to be seated.
The silence was getting to be too much for Ginny, and she spoke as she laid her small black clutch down beside her place setting. "Why have you asked me here?"
He ignored her question for a long moment, taking his time to settle himself across from her, folding his linen napkin in his lap with a careless grace. "Do you really need me to answer that question?"
Ginny shivered both at the look in his silver gaze, as well as his slow seductive drawl. She mentally shook herself and then responded with, "look, I didn't agree to anything."
"Did you not?" Again, he arched an eyebrow, looking for all the world as if he was mildly bored with the situation. It was only when Ginny met his eyes that she saw what he was truly thinking. They fairly glowed with what could best be described as hunger.
"No, I didn't, and you bloody-well know it!" She crossed her arms over her chest, and glowered at him. The motion brought his attention to her attire once more, and again that low chuckle reached her ears.
"Might I say love, that that dress does not do you justice." He was darkly amused at her attempt to defy him.
Ginny willed her cheeks not to colour, as he surveyed her garb. The dress that her mum had bought for her at the age of fifteen to wear to her great-aunt Perpetua's funeral in North Hampshire had seemed the perfect choice for this evening. It was big, and black, and covered everything from nape to knees. A step beyond her original idea of "hands off, Malfoy", it was closely infringing upon "I know I shall never have a shag again".
Malfoy, by contrast, looked incredible, and she hated to admit that even to herself. He too was dressed primarily in black, though with a few shots of silky grey thrown in for contrast.
Ignoring him in favour of taking a sip from her heavy crystal water glass, Ginny glowered over these traitorous thoughts. In that moment, an unobtrusive waiter made an entrance to offer a sip of the white wine to Malfoy. Upon his approval, two shining wine glasses appeared and the heady liquid was served.
Malfoy stared at her over the rim of his glass as he took a sip, lingering there until the waiter had left just as silently as he had arrived.
Ginny stared at the white plate and silver charger that made up the table in front of her.
"I am quite astonished," as he spoke, his voice was again the darkly silky drawl that she was quickly learning to despise, despite, or perhaps because of its seductive quality. "I had always thought you to have more claws than a mere kitten."
Caramel eyes shot up to meet silver, the dark lashes narrowed as she glared. He toasted her silently with his glass, a mocking smirk gracing his features.
"I have nothing to talk to you about," she said as she tilted her chin minutely and looked away.
"Oh, I would beg to differ," he replied, his voice again betraying a dark amusement. "At least your outfit has been screaming at me from the moment you stepped through that door."
Ginny stonily stared at him as a plate of savoury delicate pastries appeared between their plates. He chose carefully, his fingers long and white, and looking more than capable in the soft lighting. Again, Ginny turned away.
"Tell me, Ginny, how did you come to found BFW with Brown and Finnegan?" Ginny started slightly as his low drawl sounded. He watched her with that extreme intensity that she wondered if he used to intimidate his business associates, or more likely, enemies with.
"Why? I'm sure that you know everything," she spat, not bothering to look in his direction as she took a healthy swig from her wineglass.
"Humour me." Malfoy's voice compelled her attention, and she turned slightly to see him staring at her intently, as if she was the only thing that could or did matter. Swiftly, she decided that particular habit was used against enemies.
Swallowing against her surprisingly dry throat, Ginny took another sip of her wine, surprised to see that it was already half gone.
Forcing herself to place the glass back on the table, Ginny was careful not to spill with her suddenly nervous fingers.
She answered his question quietly, "I left Hogwarts and worked for a Muggle advertising house for a number of years. I liked it, but I thought that the market was over saturated, so I returned to the wizarding world, and founded BFW with Seamus and Lavender. It seemed to make sense."
"BFW is now four years old," Malfoy mused, running a finger tip against the side of his wineglass. "Breaking even within its second year and now showing a healthy profit, as well as an excellent reputation for being pioneers and innovators in the field."
"Yes." Ginny saw no sense in false modesty, she was proud of the little company she had helped found, and talking business was relatively safe. It felt odd to be having any sort of conversation with this man, and she was weary about saying too much as his reputation for being a lethal businessman more than preceded him.
"But…" Malfoy's slight smile widened fractionally as he spoke, "you are haemorrhaging money over this newest campaign. Between the actual merchandise being based upon a Muggle counter-point, and thus of questionable popularity, expensive manufacturing, a campaign that might be overly ambitious with a star Quidditch player demanding an exorbitant fee, you need this to work."
"Yes." Though she again answered in the affirmative, the word sounded slightly strained from behind her suddenly clenched jaw. She continued, "but, it will work. There is a market for our commodities, and consumers want to see higher end Quidditch materials that stand apart from such items that are more cost-effective, but tend to not last."
"There is a good chance, however, that BFW has priced itself out of its consumer's range," he stated as he leaned back. The light dancing on his eyes causing them to glow while his lids falling to half mask the expressive orbs.
"We are at the high end, true." Ginny leaned forward as she got involved in the familiar debate that she and Lavender had been raging with Seamus for months. "But we think that these items will become something of a 'must-have'. We want to launch at this years World Championship, with a teaser campaign leading up to that, and then a special line right before Christmas."
"A good plan," Malfoy acknowledged with a slight bow of his head. Ginny's attention was briefly captured by the gleam of his pale hair, and how the softness seemed at odds with the man. "Have you looked at your competition, however?"
"What competition?" Ginny snorted derisively. "Quality Quidditch Supplies is near bankruptcy. They have not had an original idea in years, and their marketing team relies solely on their history. Consumers, especially youths, want what is new, and what is exciting. That is exactly what BFW is, and what we offer."
"We have been looking at bringing Quality Quidditch Supplies under the Malfoy banner for some time," Malfoy spoke softly, carefully watching the pale delicate female face from under his lashes. "We feel that they may have potential if we bring in the right management team."
"I see," Ginny clenched her armrests tightly enough to leave marks with her nails. "What has been decided?"
He appeared thoughtful for a long moment, before he continued, "nothing has been decided. Not yet."
"Why are you doing this?" Ginny could not hold it in any longer, she had to know why the man seated across from her seemed to want to destroy her company so badly.
"Why do I need a reason?" Countering, he selected another pastry biting into it with sharp teeth that shone. "This is business. As you so eloquently stated, there is a need for more competition within this market in the wizarding world. We need only to look to the Muggles to see how much profit can be gained."
"Oh, so then it is all about profit with you," she spat, again looking away.
"And that is not the case with you?" he enquired softly, no emotion in his tone. "You get out of bed each morning to go and market merchandise for the greater good? You give no thought to the bottom line, to your profit margins?"
"You twist my words!" Ginny forced herself by sheer force of will to calm down. It was letting him win to get this angry. Damn Weasley temper.
"No," he responded in the negative, "if I had truly wanted to twist words, I would have spoken about how instead you get out of my bed in the morning, fully sated, pleasurable pain settling in your loins, lips swollen, and yet still reaching out to me for more."
Ginny paused with her almost empty wineglass halfway to her parted lips. Their eyes caught and held, and she found herself nervously licking her dry lips in a move that had Malfoy's eyes darkening and following the slick glide of her tongue. "That will never happen."
"Will it not?" he mused softly, his eyes wandering back up to meet her own. A slight, darkly sensual, smile curved his lips, as he continued, "we shall see."
That effectively ended conversation, and Ginny sat tense in the silence that expanded between them. Malfoy, damn his eyes, seemed to be perfectly at ease, and his gaze caressed her face continuously even while she sought to avoid him.
Excusing herself for the water closet, Ginny made her way out to the silent hallway, and leaned against the wall with a gasp of relief. Collecting herself, she walked the few steps necessary to use the facilities. The chic cool of the room was again almost overwhelming, and she hurried, lingering only when the large mirror caught her eye.
Ginny leaned her forehead against the cool surface, drawing in long gasps of air, feeling as if she were drowning. Her eyes, normally a soft, light brown, looked huge and dark against her pale pinched face. Concentrating solely on relaxing her muscles, she felt a little better, a little more like herself.
Pinching her cheeks for some colour, Ginny stared at herself. It was not like her to get so… lost… over a man. Even over a man as vile as Draco Malfoy. She barely recognized herself.
Not putting it past her dinner companion to come and fetch her if he felt that she had been gone for too long, she made her way back to the private dining room. Malfoy stood as she entered, and she moved quickly to her seat, determined that he not touch or help her this time.
His eyes darkened, and that feral smile found its way back to his lips as he watched her hurried movements. Ginny seethed as she realized that he knew he made her nervous.
At that moment, a small chime was heard, and Ginny moved her hands away from the table as the soup course appeared in front of her. It looked wonderful, and she knew that it was probably perfect in every sense of the word, but she could not quite make herself take a bite.
Malfoy raised a silver eyebrow at her, before softly enquiring, "is this not to your taste? I can request something more desirable. Or, perhaps you would rather skip supper altogether…"
Ginny swiftly dragged her spoon through the pale liquid, swallowing decisively while trying to ignore Malfoy's low laughter.
They spoke little, the blond villain seemingly content to simply watch her from beneath hooded lids, until again the silence seemed to press in on Ginny.
"So…" she cast wildly around for a topic as she picked at a walnut in the small salad that had appeared in front of her. "What have you been doing since Hogwarts?"
A slow smirk appeared on Malfoy's pale face at the sound of her voice. "Business."
"And women?" She arched a red gold eyebrow at him.
The smirk widened, as he drawled, "would that be jealousy in your tone?"
"Hardly." Ginny ignored the sound of his low chuckle before stating, "you have quite the reputation."
"Do I?" He looked completely indifferent to that piece of information, choosing instead to fork up some of his own salad. "What have you been 'doing' since Hogwarts, Ginevra?"
"Do not call me that," Ginny's voice turned slightly dangerous, "I do not answer to that name from you.
Malfoy looked at her, his concentration making her shift uneasily in her chair, before asking innocently, "is that not your name?"
"My name is Ginny," she countered, ignoring again the sound of his low drawl.
"Ah, you wish for me to call you that?" Again, his lips quirked, and Ginny bristled at the thought that he might have been laughing at her.
"Yes, I do," she answered emphatically, reaching for another therapeutic sip of her wine. "Ginny is my name, and that is what I will answer to."
"Ah, then we would also be in agreement that my name is Draco, and not Malfoy?" Ginny glared at him, unwilling to use such a familiar way to address him.
Running his fingers in a lingering way that she was sure was not accidental over his glass, he drew it to his mouth. Ginny's eyes followed the movement reluctantly, lingering on his lips long enough for them to curve into another slow smile.
Ginny clenched her teeth. "Agreed."
"So, Draco, what exactly was your role during the war?" Ginny smiled somewhat smugly as she took another bite of the crisp greens.
"Why do you ask?"
"Do you always answer a question with a question?"
Draco smiled the feral smile that Ginny was starting to become accustomed to, though it still unnerved her. "I had many roles during the war."
"Specifically…" She gave him a questioning look.
"Specifically, I don't believe that this is any of your concern," he said as he watched her over the rim of his wine glass, his face giving away nothing of what he was thinking. Ginny pushed her anger away, determined to give as good as she got.
Amid the silence, a succulent chicken roast in a reduced balsamic sauce appeared on her plate over rice. Ginny speared the tender flesh with her fork, playing with her food in a manner that would have had her mother smacking her hand in horror.
"Why have you asked me here?"
A pale eyebrow quirked in response to her question, and Ginny watched him with fascination. "I was under the impression that we had already gone over this."
Ginny coloured, not remembering that she had indeed already made that exact comment earlier in the evening. Draco's lips curved in a small smirk, and he continued, "I want you, Ginny. I want to rip that shabby dress off of you, and to taste all of that delightful skin as its revealed. I want to sink into you, watching your lovely lips open on a gasp, and hear you scream my name."
Closing her mouth with an audible snap, Ginny stared at her dinner companion as he held her gaze for a long moment before he drew his linen napkin to his lips to daub at a drop of wine.
"Are you always that blunt?"
"I am when I feel there is a need."
"I'm not willing to prostitute myself for the good of my company," Ginny spoke tightly, picking her clutch off the table and standing in jerking motions.
Once again, Draco startled her by silently moving to her side almost before she even realized what he was doing. "Prostitute yourself?"
Ginny jumped as his breath whispered across the skin of her neck, and turned to face him, even as he enclosed her within a cage of his lean arms, bracing himself against the table behind her.
"Yes, that is exactly what you are asking of me." Ginny stared up at his fallen angel face defiantly as she spoke.
Ignoring her comment, Draco reached up to tuck a stray crimson curl behind her ear, his fingers moving gently across her cheekbone. Ginny struggled to contain a shiver from his all too perceptive eyes but from the smile that crossed his face, she wasn't fooling anyone.
His hand fell to her waist, obstructed though it were by the voluminous folds of her dress, and held tightly to the curve there. Ginny stared up at him, feeling somewhat lost in the silver of his eyes, desire glinting there for her to see.
Draco moved his other hand to her hip, and slowly pulled her forward to press against his long body. Ginny shivered as she felt the hard evidence of just how much he wanted her press against her stomach, and he smirked down at her.
"You feel nothing…? he questioned in a low drawl, before tipping his head down to capture her lips. Ginny stood as still as stone as his lips moved gently, yet insistently, across hers.
This remained to be a good plan, until Draco slowly drew his tongue across her full lower lip, and she gasped inadvertently allowing him entrance. Ginny closed her eyes as she felt herself falling into him.
Feeling Ginny soften, Draco deepened the kiss, pulling her firmly against him, using both hands to cup the back of her head holding her in place as he shifted his lips.
Against her will, Ginny felt herself responding. As if by magic, her hands reached up to grasp his shirt front, and her tongue seemed to find its way into his mouth, loving the taste of him and the wine that he had been drinking.
Slowly easing back, Draco looked down at the flame-haired vixen in his arms. Ginny raised her lids slowly, feeling as if she were drowning. Her eyes caught sight of her fingers tangled in the black silk of his shirt, the warmth of his skin temptingly close below the thin material.
Turning a shade of red that clashed horribly with her hair, she shook her fingers free, instinctively smoothing the fabric across his chest, trying to get rid of the wrinkles that she had made there.
With a low growl, Draco grabbed her hands, trapping them between their bodies. Ginny finally looked up at him, her eyes widening as she took in the look on his face.
If she had thought that the hunger tiger look was nerve-wracking, it was nothing compared to how he watched her now. His lips were slick, and slightly swollen, and there was a slight sheen of colour across his high cheekbones.
Watching her with hooded eyes, Draco leaned down to brush his lips against hers, before setting her back from him.
"Why do you want me?" Ginny blurted out before she could really think about what she was asking. Containing her embarrassment, she watched him closely. He was incredibly hard to read, seeming to show no emotions beyond dark amusement and desire.
He stared at her considering for a long moment, long enough that she thought he might not answer, before speaking in a low drawl, "because I shouldn't."
Ginny stared at him in confusion, before stepping around him and heading for the door.
A/N: Thank you for all of the positive response to this story! I tried to personally thank everyone who left a signed review. If you don't leave a signed review, I can't do much, except to thank you here. I'm going to try to update this story about once a week, so look back around next Wednesday!
