DISCLAIMER: If this was mine, this story would not exist. Please don't sue. I only own a closet full of clothes.
Chapter 11: Rumour Has It
Ginny Weasley woke up with a start, her body jerking her awake. The light was shining from her uncovered windows, effectively blinding her. She groaned and threw her pillow above her head, which of course, was throbbing. What exactly had happened last night? She rolled onto her back to eye the clock: it read noon. She let out another groan. Ginny knew she had drunk a lot last night and was now regretting that decision.
Although every bone in her body was against it, she threw the covers off of her, slowly getting out of the bed. She stood up to close her curtains, relaxing as the light was no longer piercing through the room and aggravating her throbbing migraine. A wave of nausea wracked her body, forcing her to stand still until it passed. Walking towards the door, she nearly slipped on the dress she was wearing last night. When had that ended up on the floor? She stopped at the dresser mirror, mentally preparing herself to see the damage that was done.
There was Ginny Weasley, in her hangover haze staring back at her with cloudy, brown eyes. Her smoky eye makeup was smudged about her face, her lipstick completely gone from her lips. Her once sleek, straight hair that shone was now stiffly sitting atop her crown, tangled in odd bunches, sticking out in every which direction. Her face was paler than usual and her freckles were glaring back at her. She sighed; clearly it had been an eventful night. That she couldn't remember. Ginny's eyes glided down to the rest of her body, and she noticed that she was in an oversized shirt and pajama pants. That's strange, she mused, she didn't remember changing for bed. Furthermore, she really couldn't remember much of last night.
The rumpled witch headed to the bathroom to cleanse her face and tamed her hair into an untidy bun. Heading to her kitchen, she grabbed a Pepper-Up potion along with some spare Bloody Mary mix. Combining the two to create an odd concoction, she promptly swallowed the unpleasant liquid as quick as she could. Genius trick of the trade from Bill, Ginny acknowledged. Slowly the cloudiness of her mind began to clear up. Light did not bother her as it once used to and she could handle the clinking of dishes.
Since it was a Saturday and her day off, Ginny opted she should take the day easy and instead spruce up her flat. It had needed attending to; she realized as she sipped from her mug of freshly brewed coffee. There were dishes in the sink, books strewn across her sitting room, and the whirlwind that had apparently ravaged her bedroom. Making her way to the bedroom, she surveyed the mess. The red head knew that she had left her room last night a slight mess, but she didn't remember her clothes strewn around last night.
Her little black dress was still in a heap at the foot of her bed. Her shoes had apparently been cast aside near her window. A strapless, lacy forest green bra was strewn across her lampshade and the matching knickers were hanging around the post of her bed. Just what in the world had happened? Several moments from last night flashed across her mind. Ginny remembered pounding that Firewhiskey hard with shot after shot. Leaning her against a comfortable masculine arm that had also adorned her waist earlier that evening. Staring into spell-binding gray eyes in her dimly lit room on her bed, their faces incredibly close to each other. And of course, the memory of his soft, inviting lips against hers as her fingers grasped at his surprisingly soft platinum blond hair as she stood on the tips of her toes.
The kiss was unlike anything she had experienced before. Sure she had kissed several boys in her time, but this one, this blew all of them out of the water. Michael Corner, her first boyfriend, kissed with the inexperience and awkwardness of an adolescent. Things were still new as the teenagers figured out exactly what to do, testing the waters. Her encounters with Dean Thomas taught her lessons on the art of kissing, with his experience of being slightly older, infused with hormonal passion. And of course, there was Harry Potter. Sure, whenever they had kissed it was good; gentle and kind. But that's exactly what it was. Good. Ginny had always imagined true love's kiss to be something out of a fairy tale, and it just wasn't enough. Something had been missing.
None of those other past experiences could compare to the exhilarating yet indescribable feeling that was fueled by raw passion and desire than her kiss with Draco Malfoy. It was everything she had read about in fairy tales and trashy romance novels. This was exactly where those 'foot-popping' kisses had originated from. They made a girl want to swoon and yearn for more. The way he touched her tenderly yet powerfully as he expertly knew exactly what to do with his lips and hands blew her away. The connection that was made upon contact was electrifying, as if it was something they were meant to do all along. Ginny was left breathless and longing for more, much to her chagrin.
With that realization, Ginny's eyes widened in horror as those bursts of memories flashed before her eyes. Her grasp on the mug in her hand loosened, and it fell onto her wooden floor with a loud crash. The broken dish snapped Ginny out of her paralyzed state and she quickly grabbed her wand for a quick cleaning spell. Sure she couldn't remember much else, but she figured this was enough. The evidence was right in front of her eyes.
Ginny Weasley had unknowingly slept with Draco Malfoy. And she was going to kill that pleasure seeking pillock.
She rushed over to her fireplace and threw some Floo Powder into the hearth. With a clearly enunciated "Malfoy Manor", Ginny stuck her head into the fireplace. After some not so subtle threats to the house elves that were preventing Ginny from speaking to Master Draco, she was finally granted access to the fireplace of his bedroom. She was determined to give that pig a piece of her mind.
She was greeted with a slightly confused and unkempt Draco Malfoy. Sitting up in his bed of evergreen silk sheets (figures), he looked very un-Draco. It was a rare sight to see Draco sans calm expression, sans collected demeanor, and sans perfectly styled hair. His platinum locks were standing in every direction. She was a bit shocked to see him look so imperfect and… normal. Even more so, she realized that he was sitting there shirtless, the sheets loosely draping the bottom of half of his body. She promptly decided to stop gazing at his appearance and focus on the matter at hand. Clasping his arms around his knees, Draco's lips curled into a smirk at the sight before him.
"So what do I owe the pleasure, Weasley?"
"WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED LAST NIGHT, MALFOY?"
"Good Gods, Weaslette! Must you yell at this unsightly hour?" He cringed at the young woman's shouting, rubbing his temples.
"It's past noon, Malfoy! But I suppose you're used to eventful evenings out like last night, aren't you?" She said in an accusatory tone.
"Just what do you think happened?" He inquired curiously.
"Don't try to play coy with me, you know what happened," Ginny's eyes narrowed, and he could sense the anger even from her floating, flaming head.
"Why don't you enlighten me?" His voice dripping with amusement, Draco stretched and yawned, effectively distracting Ginny with a nice and lengthy view of his lean and well-toned muscles.
"Don't try flashing me with your goods, Malfoy! I know you took advantage of me! How dare you?"
He let out a hearty laugh at her incredulous allegation. "Have you gone mad, Weasley? Need I remind you, you invited me to that snog session right in plain sight of Potter."
"I'm sure that was part of your conniving plan to get me in bed! You pig!" Draco raised an eyebrow.
"Before that vein in your forehead bursts open, Weasel, I suggest you listen to me calmly and carefully. I wasn't the one that drank too much that they would have gone home with the first bloke that decided to take advantage of the situation. I brought you back to your quaint abode like a true gentleman in one piece," Draco revealed.
"Then why the hell are my clothes strewn across the room?" Ginny demanded.
"Well, I did have to get you off to bed, didn't I?" He smiled wolfishly, making Ginny uneasy. "Never would have pegged you to wear such racy knickers, Ginevra. What would mummy say?"
"You UNDRESSED me? What kind of 'true' gentleman are you?" She screeched.
Draco laughed again. "You silly witch! I used this magical trinket called a wand. Don't worry, your womanly virtue was kept intact. I have no idea what kind of knickers you had worn last night," he admitted. "But am I right in saying they were racy?"
Ginny furiously blushed under the gleam in his eyes, only confirming his suspicions. "So… nothing happened?"
"Besides you molesting me last night and acting like a twit? No, nothing at all," He said dryly. "And just what, may I ask, was that about?"
Ginny quickly mumbled an incoherent explanation. The only words that were caught were "Harry", "stupid", and "engaged". Draco shot her a bewildered look.
Ginny rolled her eyes and took a deep breath. "Seeing Harry there last night made me angry, okay? I wanted to get back at him for constantly throwing his new relationship in my face, and since you were right there, my idiotic genius mind decided that maybe if we looked like we were together it would make him jealous." She inwardly grimaced, just knowing that he was going to think she was an immature little girl.
"Do you want him back?" He asked bluntly, throwing Ginny off her guard.
After a few minutes of silence, she said evenly. "No. We're definitely over. I just never expected him to move on first." It was strange voicing her thoughts out loud, finally giving closure to the matter. "I'm sorry I dragged you into this. I clearly had a bit too much to drink," she apologized, giving him a weak smile.
Draco nodded in response. "Next time, would you be as kind as to not barge into my home like this? I don't appreciate these accusations. I may not be a saintly Gryffindor, but I am neither a sleazy Slytherin," He said seriously, the playfulness in his voice gone.
He leaned in closer to the fireplace, his gray eyes darkening. Draco's voice dropped a register andas it became rather husky, he said, "Besides, had anything gone on last night, Ginevra, you would have had no problem remembering." His few words sent shivers down Ginny's spine. With that final message, Draco cut off the Floo connection.
Draco ran a hand unsteadily through his tussled blond hair, moving back to his bed away from the fireplace. He lay back down, with a pillow covering his face, the events of the previous night coming back to him. Sure he had been slightly inebriated last night, but he had not been piss drunk the way Ginny had been. He didn't understand why, but he felt the need to watch over her the night before, lest anything happen. He opted to be the true gentleman and take her home. And even when she kept throwing bones his way, touching him, teasing him, and even kissing him, he still remained steadfast on being a gentleman. And judging from past experience, Draco Malfoy was not exactly a Gryffindor gentleman.
Their snog fest lingered in his mind. Who knew such an innocent looking girl had such skill? He knew there was something to that fiery spark about Ginny. She knew how to work her lips to perfection. He had snogged a many a women, but she took it to a whole new level. There was something behind the desperation and thirst for vengeance behind her lips; something he had never felt before with anyone else. Draco just knew he wanted to experience that kiss again and soon. He had her right where he would have wanted her and he had not taken advantage.
And then it dawned on him once again in sober clarity, as his foggy gray eyes widened, still beneath the pillow. Draco Lucius Malfoy may want Ginevra Molly Weasley for more than just a one night stand. The confused man didn't know what to think. He couldn't even remember the last time he had any such feelings for a woman; it was now foreign to his hidden heart. Perhaps, he was wrong, Draco argued with himself, but could not convince himself otherwise. He groaned, further pulling the covers over him, as if slinking into his bed would continue to push this new reality away.
That Monday, Ginny strolled into the office with a little extra jump in her step. Sure her weekend had been tainted by her moment of debauchery, but all in all, it did the trick. She no longer was plagued by the thoughts that were previously taking over her brain. Besides, she reasoned, it was a bit of innocent fun; luckily nothing had gone further. And on the bright side, she was nearly done with the article on Draco. In other words, there was little chance of running into him again, so she could move on with her life without dealing with any awkward moments.
Little did Ginny know what Fate had in store for her. Sitting down at her desk, she perused through her usual literature of the morning. Stopping by the society page in the Daily Prophet, Ginny's cheery smile quickly dissipated. A full page spread displayed a very large picture of a light haired man kissing a scantily clad woman. The title read, "STAR CROSSED LOVERS? BRITIAN'S MOST-ELIGIBLE MALFOY SEEN WITH LOCAL LUSH WEASLEY".The picture glaring back at her was of Draco and Ginny mid-snog, bodies entangled, and hands wrapped around in each other's hair. Casting the paper aside as if it contained dark magic, Ginny placed her head in her hands, trying to subdue the impending migraine. Of course the press had gotten a picture of them. The Leaky Cauldron Lounge was a hot spot for young witches and wizards, as well as for celebrities. There were press and photographers spilling out of that place. Their quills were probably burning at the story she practically threw before them. She should have known better than to pull a stupid stunt like that. Damn that irrational Weasley anger, Ginny chided. It always ended up getting the best of her in the end.
And she was most definitely not a lush, Ginny childishly thought. Stupid journalists and their need for alliteration.
And the side effects of that Weasley unpredictable temperament continued to linger. As the morning mail came in with her owl, she shuffled through the envelopes until one caused her to gasp. Her almond eyes widened at the red envelope that was in her hands. She jumped out of her seat with a start, springing to action. Ginny ran to the nearest supply closet and quickly shut the door behind her. Grabbing her wand, she cast a Silencing Charm around the room to soundproof it. She knew that waiting for the letter to open would only prolong the embarrassing effect. Tucking a stray strand of scarlet hair, Ginny unsteadily ripped open the Howler.
Ron's angry voice shook the walls of the small supply closet, reminding her eerily of their mother's shrill threats:
"GINNY WEASLEY! HOW DARE YOU PUT YOUR LIPS ON THAT SLIMY FERRET! I AM ABSOLUTELY DISGUSTED! I AM NOW FACING INQUIRIES AT WORK FROM CO-WORKERS, AND IT'S ENTIRELY YOUR FAULT!
I DON'T SUPPOSE YOU STOPPED TO THINK WHAT YOUR FAMILY WOULD GO THROUGH WHEN WE SAW THE MORNING'S HEADLINES. I WOULDN'T BE SURPRISED IF HE CURSED YOU, YOU JUST WAIT UTNIL I GET AHOLD OF THAT SMARMY PRAT. IF HE PUTS ANOTHER HAND ON YOU, I'M HEXING THE DAYLIGHTS OUT OF MALFOY!"
Ginny was blinking back angry tears furiously as the letter kept yelling at her. She only caught bits and pieces of the rest:
"-LETTER FROM MUM THIS MORNING. I THOUGHT I WOULD DIE OF SHAME. THEY DIDN'T BRING YOU UP TO BEHAVE LIKE THIS-"
"-I'M PICKING YOU UP FOR LUNCH TOMORROW, GIN. WE'RE GOING TO GET TO THE BOTTOM OF THIS-"
In a refreshing change of tone, she heard a more collected, feminine voice ring out:
"I'm so sorry Ginny! I promise you that he's just angry and being irrational and extremely Ronald right now. He'll regret this later, mark my words."
"NO I WON'T, HERM-"
"Now see here, Ronald Wea-"
The Howler than completed its message, promptly bursting into flames, landing in a heap of ashes on the ground. She was left mortified in a cloak of silence within the supply room, with Hermione's and Ron's voices disappearing.
Oh, brother.
Heh, I know, I know. It's a bit predictable but it was too good not to pass up! Please review! 3 They help me make it through a week of intense Renaissance Poetry.
