July 31, 2014

Author's Note: Rating upped for smut. If smut isn't your thing, you can read down to the line "He needed no other encouragement than that" safely, and then skip down to the last section of the chapter to avoid the smutty bits. I'm going to go bury my head in the sand now.

The last chapter should be posted in the next couple weeks. Reviews super appreciated!

Double-Pointed Needles

Chapter Four: Grafting

For the next two nights, Ginny slept in a spare bedroom, though 'slept' probably wasn't the right word for what she did. Instead of sleeping, she stayed up until dawn obsessively knitting sock after sock. Most of them came out misshapen and irregular, and these she burned with her wand in the fireplace. She refused to stop until she had a decent, matching pair, but she couldn't maintain the calm and rhythm she'd discovered in the parlor days ago.

She came out of her new room for meals and to tend to the garden, but she avoided her husband and mother-in-law as much as she could and hardly spoke to them when forced to endure their company. She kept her eyes downcast, ignored every statement or question Draco sent her way, and left the table as soon as she'd finished her meal.

She wasn't happy, but she was stubborn.

On Tuesday afternoon, the tenth day of Narcissa's visit, she heard Draco's voice out in the garden and she stopped at the door, hesitating. She shouldn't have let Draco's presence change her plans, but even as she was considering returning to the garden later, she heard Harry's voice.

"Listen, mate, Ginny told me what you guys have been doing for your mother's sake."

Ginny froze, mentally kicking herself for saying anything to Harry, who was the type of man to try to help his friends if they were in trouble. He couldn't sit idly by if there was something he could do to fix a problem.

"So?" Draco said. Ginny couldn't see his face, but she knew exactly how it would look. His lips would be stretched into a thin line, his nostrils slightly flared, his eyes hooded dangerously. Even in that one syllable, she could tell that he was moments away from snapping.

"So? So can't you see what you're doing to Ginny?" Harry asked, sounding frustrated.

Ginny turned sideways, leaning as close to the door frame as she could without any part of her body becoming visible. She wished she could see what was going on, but she knew both men so well that it wasn't strictly necessary to witness the conversation unfolding.

"What I'm doing to her?" Draco asked. "I asked her for a favor, and she said she'd do it. Now she's acting like—"

"Insane, right? She's acting insane. Because she thinks you don't love her the way she is."

There was a moment of silence. Her heart pounded so loudly in her chest, she held her breath in the hopes that she would be able to hear better.

"What are you talking about?"

Here she imagined Harry rolling his eyes, maybe ruffling his hair in exasperation. "How long is she supposed to pretend to be the wife your mother wants?"

"Only a few more days," Draco snapped.

"No, Draco. Do you expect her to play this role every time your mother visits? What if next time she stays for a month? What if she moves back to England? How far does this act extend? When does it stop being an act and become a full-time position?"

More silence as Draco considered what Harry had said. Then: "I didn't—I never thought—"

"No, and neither did Ginny. She did this for you, but can't you see how its affecting her? She had to look down her nose at her brother and friends just to impress your mother. Don't you see why that would bother her?"

"She's such a Gryffindor," Draco said, not unkindly, rather as if he'd forgotten. "She wears her emotions on her sleeve like a badge. How could I ask her to hide them? And I'd refused to listen to her when she tried to talk to me about this."

There was something aching in his voice that made Ginny's heart pang. She squeezed her eyes shut and rested her forehead against the wall.

"I'm sorry I involved myself. After Theo's party, I couldn't—"

"Don't worry about it," Draco said, more composed now. "Let me show you out."

Ginny jumped away from the wall, looking for a place to hide. She dove behind a tapestry just as the men walked through the door, but she knew it was the most ridiculous place to hide. She smacked herself in the forehead with her palm, berating herself.

Suddenly, the fabric was pulled aside and Ginny looked up at Draco, one of his eyebrows arched and his mouth turned up in amusement.

"Er, I'll just let myself out, then," Harry said, inching himself back toward the entrance.

"See you later," Draco replied. His eyes never left hers, but as soon as they were alone again, he grabbed her hands in a gentle hold and pulled her out from behind the tapestry.

"Draco, I—"

He silenced her with his lips, warm and soft but so, so determined and insistent. He dropped her hands and grasped the sides of her face, clinging to her like he hadn't in over a week. When Ginny's knees wobbled, she grabbed the front of his robes to keep herself balanced. Then she slid up on her tip-toes, her arms wrapping tightly around his neck, a moan inadvertently leaving her lips.

"Oh, Ginny," he groaned into the skin of her shoulder.

"It's okay," she said, trying to pull his head back up to meet her kiss.

He pulled away, putting space between them without letting her go. "No, it's not," he said. "I'm so sorry. I didn't think."

"It's okay," she assured him. "It's fine."

"No," he disagreed again. "I'm going to make this right." He looked around the corridor before pulling her into a room—a sitting room they never used.

Confused, Ginny eyed the sheet-covered furniture, which was hard to make out in the dark. "What are we—oh!"

Draco pushed her against the door, his body pinning her to the cool wood. Colloportus, he muttered near her ear.

A shiver of anticipation traveled through her as the distinct sound of a lock clicked behind her. The shiver escalated to a tremble when she saw the excited look in Draco's eyes.

"I was an idiot and a prat. Mostly, I was wrong," he said. "Let me make it up to you."

"Yes," she breathed. "Yes please."

He needed no other encouragement than that.

She stood stock still—tense, even—as he took a step back, his fingertips trailing down her arms, leaving chills in their wake. His hands went straight to his cravat, untucking it from his silken robes and sliding it off his neck with sharp impatience.

Ginny's hands went to the grubby hem of her gardening robes, pulling the garment up and over her head in one swift motion. Her husband's fingers froze over the buttons of his own robes, his eyes wide and hungry as they roamed her body.

"Looks like you need some help," she said, closing the space between them with two purposeful strides.

He let her bat his hands away as she took over the task of undressing him, but while she did so, he touched her like Ginny had only dreamed of being touched for the last ten days. His fingers were blazing hot where they pressed into the skin of her back, sliding down to cup her bum, eliciting a gasp from her and a strangled moan from him.

The heavy pounding of her heart matched the staccato rhythm of her breathing as she threw herself at Draco, her mission to unclothe him forgotten for now. Her blood sang in time to the beating in her ribcage, desperate for his closeness, frantic for his skin on hers.

The force of her made him fall back onto an ottoman with Ginny sprawled in his lap in an awkward tangle of arms and legs though neither of them cared. She hardly seemed aware of herself as her lips grazed his jaw, tasting the salt of his skin and the musk that had always belonged to Draco. While she mindlessly kissed and licked, she was all too cognizant of the carpet underneath her knees, the way Draco arched down over her, wrapping around her so her mouth could reach his face. Even his erection, hidden as it was underneath his now rumpled robes, demanded a piece of her attention as it pressed into her stomach. Her mouth was at the perfect level…. If she pulled his robes up, if she leaned down a little more….

"No," Draco said, firmly grasping her hands and pulling her away from his body. "Not like this."

"Yes," she disagreed with a hurt hiss. "Just like this."

When he stood up, he tugged her up with him, and then before she could say a word, he removed his wand from his pocket. With a silent gesture, every stitch of his clothing disappeared as well as Ginny's knickers. Her mouth ran dry and her knees weakened at the sight of his smooth, tight torso sparsely coated with a smattering of fine hair. His erection stood at attention, unashamed and bobbing.

He drew her back to a covered armchair, but how he made it without tripping over his own feet, Ginny had no idea. As he took a seat, her body positioned between his knees, he was enthralled by her puckered nipples, and when his lips closed around one, it took all Ginny's will power to remain standing. He alternated between kissing and sucking, the softness of his kisses alleviating the sensory overload from his tongue and his teeth. Ginny's breath raked out of her, heavy and unsteady, the same way her legs felt. Only Draco's hands latched behind her, holding her up as he pressed kisses down her stomach, kept her on her feet.

Her head fell back with the contented sigh of someone dying of thirst taking their first drink of water. The delicious feel of her hair tickling the skin of her lower back combined with Draco's lips nipping lower and lower down her stomach turned her sighs into gasps. The gasps became groans when he slid off the chair onto his knees to better reach and taste her slit. Just as they had on her breasts, his innocent kisses quickly evolved into hard pulls and long strokes, his tongue at once sliding through her folds and then teasing the sensitive bud of her clit. Sensation radiated from the spot and spiraled out, white hot and furious in its pleasure, and Ginny was left trembling from her fingers to her toes.

"Draco!" she cried as she doubled over, her hands falling on his shoulders for support. She could feel him smirk against the inside of her thigh, the git. Her knees shook so violently, they threatened to collapse, but instead of pulling back, Draco nudged her legs further apart, and then his hands at the backs of her thighs pulled her in, beckoned her closer. Who was she to refuse?

He drank her in, lapping at her folds and sucking on her clit until it was swollen and so sensitive, the pleasure made her feel painfully full, as if she could burst out of her skin at any moment. Heat tore through Ginny, and as her body burned, Draco's skin also became slick with a fine sheen of sweat. When she wasn't so focused on her own arousal, she noticed the signs of Draco's: the way his fingers dug into the strong muscles of her thighs, just under her bum—the flush underneath his skin, tinting his cheeks with a rosy color not typically seen there—the minute trembling of his arms and shoulders, and, when he came up for air, his haggard, unsteady breathing.

Ginny placed a hand on the top of his head, stroking his hair as he stroked her with his tongue, and when the pleasure finally reached its peak, her fingers spasmed and dug into his platinum blond locks, grasping onto the only anchor she had as every nerve ending in her body erupted and the floor rocked like a ship at sea. Through her climax, Draco held her steady, his kisses taking and tasting every jerk of her hips. When the waves of pleasure calmed, Ginny found herself draped over Draco's shoulder as his hands massaged the backs of her thighs, his fingertips just brushing the lips of her core.

Her whole body quaked with aftershocks until her knees finally gave out and she fell into Draco's lap. His arousal twitched between them, but he ignored it as he climbed unsteadily to his feet, Ginny's legs locked around his waist as he stood. Then he fell back into the armchair again, her legs straddling his lap, his cock a whisper away from the very place both of them wished to feel it buried.

Still, he ignored his own arousal to grasp Ginny's face and pull it to his. She'd always sensed a desperation in his kisses, and this one was no different, as if he needed to prove to her how much he loved her. Draco had never been a man for sentimentality; his actions had always spoken louder than his silence. Narcissa may have thought lust had driven them to marry, and while sex with Draco was good—so good—Ginny knew that the way he made love to her was proof of his feelings for her. She felt his affection in every careful touch, every aching moan, every desperate kiss and cry and plea. When the affection had stopped on Narcissa's behalf, Ginny had felt dry and empty, like an abandoned well, long forgotten.

Draco kissed her now as if she were the air he needed to breathe. He liked to say that she had ruined him the first time he'd kissed her, but Ginny knew it was she who had been ruined.

She tasted herself on his lips and her body was wracked with the most violent shudders yet. She surged up onto her knees, lifting herself off Draco's legs, and then reached for his swollen shaft, the velvet-soft skin hot against her palm. Draco's breath caught, and his whole body stiffened, his grip tightening on her waist. He burned in her hand as she stroked the length of him, her thumb running over the tip of the head at the end of each pull, making his breath hitch and his hips jerk.

"Just like this," she said against his lips as she positioned him at her entrance.

She could tell by the quivering of his arms how close he was to losing control—and how securely he reigned himself in. Even as she lowered herself over him, enclosing him in her slick heat, he held back, his fingers digging into the sides of her hips, unwilling or unable to move. Ginny sighed, and then she moved her hands to his shoulders, running her fingers teasingly down his arms and back up again.

"You don't have to hold back anymore," she said. "Don't worry about your mother."

His jaw clenched. "Dammit, Ginny. What have I said about mentioning my mother in the bedroom?"

Ginny's lips lifted into a predatory smile and she leaned closer to him, placing a soft kiss on his nose. "We're not in a bedroom." She rose up again slightly, gasping at his thickness inside her, and his whole face drew into a tormented expression, his brows knitting tightly together, his eyes fluttering closed, his mouth falling open as he gasped with her.

This time when Ginny lowered herself back down, his hips rose to meet her. Her breathing rasped out as his pelvis ground against hers, a jolt of ecstasy electrifying her every nerve.

"I've fucking missed this," Draco hissed through clenched teeth.

Ginny had missed it, too, but she couldn't respond in kind. Every time she slammed down on his cock, she rocked against him, stimulating her clit all over again and leaving her breathless. It didn't take long for her blood to feel thick and sluggish in her veins, and even the frantic racing of her heart couldn't pump it fast enough.

Draco's hands left hot goosebumps where they mapped her skin, stroking down her thighs, tracing her curves, massaging her breasts until Ginny's blood no longer felt thick—it boiled. His lips trailed kisses from her chest up to her mouth and across her jaw, and even as Ginny found it increasingly difficult to concentrate due to the abundance of sensations coursing through her body, Draco still managed to keep up the relentless pace of his hips slamming into her.

Only his hands and lips could assuage the compulsion under her skin, the itch that grew with every thrust of his hips. She leaned forward, wrapping her arms around his neck, not just to support her shaking body, but for the feel of his skin against hers.

"Oh, Merlin," she cried. "Oh…fuck—"

Her orgasm hit like a Bludger to the head, but she felt as euphoric as if she'd caught the Snitch. Her body tensed tight as a bow, every limb quivering as waves of searing bliss overwhelmed her senses. Her eyes were closed, but a bright white light scorched her eyelids.

With a savage groan, Draco's hands returned to her hips, steadying her as he bucked into her with wild jerks, each plunge stronger and more erratic than the last. Ginny's heart beat against her sternum as if trying to free itself, but even in her own overwhelmed state, she knew exactly when Draco's release hit him by the way his fingers dug into her, undoubtedly leaving imprints behind. He thrust his hips once more—twice more—and then his back arched, his pelvis tilted, the chords of his neck drew tight, and his breathing grew into haggard gasps. She ran shaky fingers through his hair while his climax tore through him, caressing and stroking his face, his shoulders, his chest, until the sensation passed enough for his body to relax again.

He kissed her hard, crushing their lips together the same way their bodies were pressed together, as if they were one being fusing back together, as if a hole had been sewn closed. When they pulled away, Draco still couldn't let go and instead rested his forehead against hers, still trying to catch his breath. Ginny was aware of his fingers buried in her hair, tying him to her as if unwilling to release her.

She was fine with that.

"Apology accepted," she said as she giggled, the sound coming out lower and more relaxed than she'd felt in over a week.

Ginny didn't realize she'd begun to cry until Draco wiped her tears away with his thumbs. She had no explanation for them, but none was needed.

"For the rest of my life, I won't allow anyone to stand between us again," Draco promised with a gentle kiss to both of her cheeks where her tears had fallen.

"You're just saying that because the sex is good," she replied, her eyes fluttering closed.

His laugh was dry and deep. "No, I'm saying it because you are."

Then they put their mouths to better use as their hands warmed each other's chilled skin once more.

Later, Draco pulled the sheet off the armchair and covered their bodies to defend against post-coital chill. They'd moved from the armchair to the chaise and finally to the floor, where they laid together in an exhausted heap.

"Lucky this carpet was here," Ginny commented as she snuggled into his side.

He wrapped her in his arms, rubbing the skin of her back to generate more heat. "This carpet has been in the family for nearly four hundred years. We just defaced an ancient family heirloom."

"Oh please," she replied with a snort. "Like no one in your family has had sex on this rug before."

He turned his head to eye the rug beneath them warily, his face etched with lines of disgust. "I'd really rather not think about it, actually."

Ginny shrugged and laid her head on his chest, sighing in contentment.

"I'm sorry for being such a loon this past week," she murmured.

The hand on her arm grasped her gently, prompting her to look up at him. His eyes were serious, his mouth turned down unhappily. "Please, for the last time, none of this was your fault. It was mine." An expression she couldn't name crossed his face, and then he sat up, pulling her with him.

"I have an idea," he said.

As he laid out his plan to her, she remembered why she'd fallen in love with him in the first place, despite all the odds against them.

TBC