Story Title: Stings Like Fire
Summary: Ginny, quite frankly, is tired of her life. Tired of Harry being such an ass nowadays, tired of Hermione acting like she knows everything in the world, and Ron's clumsiness and false sureness in all the stupid, irreversible spells and hexes and jinxes he puts on her. Tired of being that good little girl…what happens when revenge takes a twist, and an unexpected person enters her life?
She left not long after their kiss. She collected her books and papers up and crammed them into her bag, while both of them were still speechless and thoughtless; immobile.
She scooted out the door silently, Draco running his fingers lazily through his hair, staring at the blazing fire.
She slipped down the hallway, sliding through the shadows with easy grace and light footsteps. But her head was heavy with stupid thoughts.
She sighed. "Why did you change?" she muttered aloud, coming to the Fat Lady.
"Why did who change?" It was Harry. He was standing in the corner near the portrait, arm's crossed, eyes drooping.
"God, how long have you been out here? And why?" she mumbled, ignoring his question, shifting her bag and grabbing his forearm stiffly. He jerked it away semi-harshly and stumbled to the portrait face.
"Long enough. And none of your fucking business," he muttered, and stood there like an idiot, swaying as he tried to remember the password.
She surveyed him slowly. "Harry-Harry, are you drunk?" She touched his arm gently with her fingertips.
"Why the fuck would you care?" He grumbled, slurring. "Did you have fun with Malfoy?"
She stepped back from his angry glare. "We studied. Big deal," she said, tilting her chin up.
"Well you were sure out a long time." Nice going, dumb ass.
"How would you know?" she asked, eyes narrowing.
"I-just…I just noticed, maybe. I don't know. You were just out for awhile, and with Malfoy nonetheless. But the point is, did you have fun with him, Ginny?" he said, gesturing to her open robes and white wrinkled shirt; the first few buttons were unbuttoned because of the heat.
"It was hot," she muttered, pulling her robes closed. Her eyes narrowed further. "You are not my father, Harry, nor are you my stupid brother. So if you'd please move, I could get on with my life," she growled. Despite his drunken stage, he shifted slowly, sidestepping. She stalked right past him, red curls twisted up in a half-bun, hips swaying as she walked. She muttered the password evenly, a slight snarl in her voice. The portrait closed behind her with a light snap, and he was left in the darkness. He leaned against the wall, gently, sinking to the floor.
"What the hell's wrong with you, Harry? She's Ginny…she's like your little sister…" he muttered to himself.
Draco sat still. He could still taste her lips on his, the burning sensation that filled him when she touched him. He could still feel her fingers in his hair, running ever so slowly. He could still feel her breath in his ear, could still feel the pain in his heart; could still hear her voice as she said, "But I don't even know you anymore."
She was right, and he didn't think he could deny it. He had changed; he didn't even know who he was anymore.
He'd changed over the summer. Changed to get rid of that nasty person he was, to put light on the person inside. And he'd only made his target dislike him more.
He didn't know what to do. Should he just change, and have no one notice? Was that possible? He sighed in a grumpy fashion and pulled at his hair, sucking in a deep breath. He could still smell her. It was like she was still there, sitting above him, humming gently and running her cool fingers through his hair.
"Should I change for you?" he murmured into the silence, as if she were still there. "It feels so different when I'm around you. What's gotten into me?"
He needed to get himself back. "How?" he muttered aloud, getting up and shifting his books and things from the floor to his desk in a neat stack.
He settled on his four-poster bed, pulling up the silky green duvet around his shoulders. "How can I change for you?" he murmured, eyes drooping steadily. His name fell off her lips as he slowly drifted away in a bubble of soft pillows and silky red hair.
Ginny woke up the next morning with a sinking feeling in her stomach, like rocks were settled heavily in her abdomen. Her stomach growled rather loudly, and as she pushed back the curtains a much too bright; much too blinding ray of sunlight greeted her.
"Good dear Lord," she muttered to herself, and rolled back on her bed, closing the curtains with a flick of her wrists. "Need more sleep…" she grumbled, eyes closing as she settled back into the pillows.
A rather loud knock on the door barely startled her. "Ginny, wake up." It was Hermione's voice. She knocked once more on the door, before turning the knob.
"Ginny, wake up," she repeated softly, entering the room. "Gin…" she murmured gently, approaching the bed. Ginny just squirmed in her sleep a bit, a mewling sound escaping her parted lips. Hermione slipped on a cruel smile as she planted her hand on Ginny's stomach quickly, yelling, "WAKE UP!" She laughed delightedly as the poor red head jumped nearly 3 feet in the air, yelling out, "I'm awake!" she shook her hair out grumpily and threw her legs over the side, rubbing her eyes and yawning.
"My God Hermione, you scared the shit out of me," she muttered, standing and stretching. Hermione just laughed and turned to leave the room.
"Well, it's the only working way to get you up and about," she replied, her voice faint as she exited the room.
She sighed. Everyone was being distant; but maybe it was her fault. She'd chewed out the trio and placed herself close to the border, incase it came time to jump and run. Her friends didn't talk to her…well, most of them anyway. The others only wanted to know what it was like.
Slytherin girls whispered as she passed that morning. Her robes were folded over her right arm, her bag slung from her shoulder; her white oxford shirt was rolled up to her elbows and her red and gold tie was undone and hanging around her collar. She threw open the doors easily, red hair falling down her shoulders as she stalked angrily to the Gryffindor Table. The hall fell quiet and eyes bore into her as she slammed her pack onto the bench and plopped down angrily beside it, impatiently picking bits of white confetti out of her hair and off her clothes.
"Damn Peeves…Goddamnit I'm going to give him a big piece of my mind right in the Goddamn pie hole…" she muttered crossly, abandoning the confetti and reaching for a slice of bacon in an irritated manner.
She munched heatedly while the others simply stared, Hermione breaking the silence and swishing her wand offhandedly at Ginny's cardigan, the petite redhead barely noticing that the bits of white paper were gone. She nodded a quiet thanks to her and continued to eat, feeling eyes on her forehead. She looked up, practically ignoring the conversation that drifted on around her; something about Hagrid. She felt as if the rest of the room went blurry, and there they were.
Those eyes. Those stormy eyes that captured her soul in their jaws; those deceiving colors that feigned peace but lead to adventure. Those silver-blue orbs that reminded her of the Eye of the Storm; the silence of evil. Draco Malfoy's eyes.
She eyed him warily but suspiciously, using all her will to keep her mouth closed. He smirked nastily, running the tip of his tongue over his top lip. She swallowed noisily, and the notorious pink tint once again crawled up her neck. She stared at him half heatedly, half soft; her eyes drifting from his icy eyes to the slender hand that was idly brushing hair out of his eyes. She remembered the soft feeling off his platinum blonde hair; like tendrils of silk slipping through her fingers. She smiled distractedly and he winked, still smirking. Somehow she found it the right time to look away.
He'd cornered her easily. Just like he used to; just like the good days. He'd thought about it over and over the night before, tossing and turning into his pillows until he came to a conclusion. She really did miss the person he was before. So to make the whole world round again, he made the easy slip from strangely nice to notoriously nasty. And he had a certain feel that that she liked this sudden change.
She'd left the Hall not long after, readjusting her headband; bag tucked neatly into her hip as both hips and hair swung from left to right gently. He let the moments tick away. One. Two. Three. Four. Four and a half. Four and a-wait, wasn't that just four an a half a second ago? Damnit…stupid fucking watch. He deserted the watch with a huffy sigh and slid off the bench, nodding slyly to fellow Slytherins who gave him a slight bob of a head in return.
He pushed open the door quick enough to see a flash of bright red hair disappear out the main doors. He quickened his pace slightly, back stiff and smirk planted permanently to his serene insipid lips. He pushed open the door softly, hardly making any noise. With the sharpest movements he was behind her, grasping her swaying hips in his cold hands. He was against her in a second, breathing into the warmth of her neck. Her spicy perfume wafted into his nostrils, and he closed his eyes.
"God, you scared the hell out of me," she murmured, stock still in the September warmth. He nuzzled her neck, gently. He laughed a chortle that vibrated her stomach slightly, screwing up her senses. She laughed a bit too.
"What's so funny, Weasel? Can't take a scare?" he smirked, backing away from her neck. She rolled her eyes and readjusted her shoulder strap, hips swaying again as she started to walk again.
For a moment he was hypnotized; in a trance cast by those flashy auburn curls and her luscious hips that swung from side to side…side to side…side to side…He licked his lips unconsciously and blinked. She stopped and turned, tilting her head to the side.
"What's the matter Malfoy? Weasley got your tongue?" (A/N: I know…I used that line before in CC but I couldn't help it…)He smirked evily once again and lowered his head, glaring at her so strangely she winced at seeing the whites of his eyes and turned her head.
She was completely caught off guard again as his hot fingers grasped her hips and swung her sideways slightly. Her mouth opened and she let out a little squeak, smiling. She straightened and sighed as his lips fell to her neck, his warm steady breathing soaking her senses. She felt a vibration against her pulse point. As she listened for a moment, she realized he was humming.
"Draco," she almost inaudibly growled, "please, stop." He ignored her again, lightly nipping her neck. He grinned as he heard her sharp intake of breath, and melt into his frame.
