Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter (nor any of the other characters, sadly. Wouldn't mind a Draco!) Please don't sue me. I have nothing of value anyway.

Rating: Now rated M overall. This chapter is T.

Spoilers: DH compliant, except epilogue. All seven books are fair game!

Pairing: Draco x Ginny.

Author's Note: Another update! Here's hoping I can keep this up for a while this time. Hope you enjoy! =)

The Name of the Game

Chapter 25: Owls and Howlers

The water of the shower beat down on Draco as he stood under it. He was already clean, his hair long since washed, and the heating charm on the water was beginning to wear off, yet he was hesitant to leave. He had finally slept a handful of hours, waking to find Ginny in his bed, a portrait of contentment that left him wracked with guilt as the events of the night before played through his mind with perfect clarity. She was still out there, asleep, or would she have woken up by now? Perhaps she would even have gone back to her own room by the time he was done in here and he wouldn't have to deal with it at all until he'd had time to think about it.

Now really, what were the odds of that?

Of course she would wait for him. What would he say to her? It was a problem, and one that was his fault. He'd grant that she had made certain choices last night right along with him, but she hadn't half of his proverbial baggage and it should have been up to him to shield her from that.

He lingered in the shower until the water was unpleasantly cool, though the warmth of summer kept it from being remotely chilled. Only when he could no longer stand the nasty, tepid feeling that was not unlike that of a bath that had stood too long did he finally concede that it was time to face her. Slytherins, he noted as he toweled himself dry, truly were not known for their courage.

xxxxx

Ginny woke alone; though the space in bed next to her was rumpled, it had long since grown cold. Three potion bottles stood on the nightstand next to her: one green, one blue, and one purple. At the sight of the potions, the memories of the night before came flooding back. She hadn't drunk nearly enough to need the first two, for neither her stomach nor her head were feeling any ill effects, but the last, a contraceptive potion… yes, she would definitely be needing that one. She remembered it all perfectly.

Malfoy was nowhere to be seen, though the sound of running water led her to guess where he was. So he hadn't left, after all. When she went to the door, however, she found it locked. Her heart sank just a little, but perhaps it was nothing. It could be that he just didn't want her to walk in on anything embarrassing.

She returned to the bed and sat, holding the purple potion in her hands. Her cheeks flamed red. She couldn't believe the things they'd done last night, and the way he'd made her feel, not only emotionally but physically as well. As far as emotions went she didn't know what she felt, exactly, only that he made her feel warm inside when she was around him. Physically, he had made her feel things she'd never felt before, or at least not as intensely, even with Harry. It had been… well… amazing…

She started as the bathroom door clicked open, revealing Malfoy clad only in a towel slung low around his hips, displaying his lean, toned physique to which a scattering of water droplets still clung. He rubbed his white-blond hair dry with a second towel, causing it to stick up in all directions. Spotting her, he stopped short.

"Weasley," he stated, his voice soft yet somehow awkward. "I didn't expect you'd still be here."

"Where would I be, exactly?" Ginny asked, frowning slightly as she tried to suss out what he might be implying.

"I figured you'd probably go running back to your room as soon as you realized what we did last night," he said matter-of-factly, eyeing her with caution. "I see you've found the potion I left out for you."

"Not the classiest morning-after, is it?" she replied.

"It isn't the worst, either," he shrugged. "Take the potion or don't, it's up to you, but my obligation ends there."

Ginny's face flushed red again, this time out of anger, as she pulled the stopper from the bottle and drank. She tossed the empty bottle on the nightstand carelessly where it hit the unused hangover potions with a clatter, and without a word she dressed, gathered her things, and made to leave.

"You know," she said, pausing at the door, "you're a real bastard."

Malfoy flinched as the door slammed behind her. Leaning back slightly, he slid down the wall until he sat on the floor. He ran a hand through his towel-mussed hair, watching as a few stray droplets of water fell from it to land on the floor in front of him.

"Yes, I know," he replied softly to no one.

This was not the way he'd meant to part ways from her, but what could he do? She would soon be living in Holyhead, he in Falmouth, and he couldn't afford to make this an emotional goodbye. He couldn't afford the hurt that would cause. Neither of them could afford the hurt he would inevitably cause her, whether he wanted to or not. He absolutely didn't want to.

Nonetheless, he obviously had.

A flurry of flapping wings and tapping of beaks on glass caught his attention; no less than three owls were pestering to be let in, one bearing what looked like his copy of the Daily Prophet and the others with letters. He rose from the floor and moved to the window to relieve the owls of their deliveries.

As the copy of the Prophet fell open, the front page caught his eye immediately.

"Oh, fuck…"

He turned his attention to the letters in his hand, which only caused him to utter the obscenity again. There were not more appropriate words to describe how bad this was. Nor, he realized, would he be the only one receiving unwelcome owls that morning.

xxxxx

Ginny looked around the room, satisfied that she'd collected everything; in fact, almost all her things had been in her trunk for days. Training was over and it was time to pack up and leave; she'd been drafted to Holyhead, a reality born of a dream cherished beyond all others. Still, a very large part of her knew that she would miss the time she had spent here, and the people she'd spent that time with… really, one person in particular. His broomstick rested across the top of her trunk, reminding her that it needed to be returned, for the time of the loan was up. She wished she'd remembered earlier. Malfoy was probably gone by now…

She sighed. What was she going to do about Malfoy? They'd been friendly, well, perhaps a bit more than friendly over the past few months, but not much more than that. Then, there had been the gala… and then, afterward…

Oh, why had she gone and slept with him? That wasn't the type of friendship they had, was it? Ginny rubbed her hand across her eyes tiredly. She hadn't intended for this to happen. Wanted, maybe, but hadn't she known better? And his reaction had been… what? Casual indifference at best. As if he didn't really care that they'd been together. Was it nothing for him? Or worse, did he regret it? Worst of all, was this only the end of some elaborate plan to sleep with her and walk away?

No, she couldn't quite bring herself to believe that last possibility, not even of him. More likely, it was just a direction he hadn't intended for their friendship to take. Hell, she had regrets. This wasn't what they were supposed to be. Maybe forgetting about it was for the best. Maybe he wouldn't even give her the option; he seemed pretty well on his way to writing it off as it was.

She'd have time to think it over during her stay at the Burrow over the next few weeks, after which she'd move on to Holyhead. With luck, she could have it all sorted out before her time with her new team began.

Picking up the broomstick and levitating her trunk behind her, she opened the door, not wanting to miss her Floo time and have to wait for a later one. She wasn't really watching where she was going, lost in thought as she was, so she wasn't able to stop herself in time to avoid running into the very object of her preoccupation, who stood outside her door with his hand raised to knock.

A startled look came over his face as they collided, his arms encircling her instinctively and they both lurched unsteadily from the impact. The black turtleneck had put in another appearance, she noticed as her face planted in his chest, owing, no doubt, to impending Floo travel. The warmth of his body pressed against her, along with the smell that was uniquely his, brought a flood of memories from the night before crashing down on her, and she kept her face tilted down, trying to hide her wretched blush. She remembered the firm feel of him, the smoothness of his skin under her fingertips, his breath in her ear as he groaned her name…

She shook her head imperceptibly, clearing her thoughts as she took a half-step back from him. It wouldn't do to get so flustered when he was clearly determined to remain unattached.

"Did you need something, Malfoy? It's a good thing for me that you're still here, because I've only just realized I still need to give your broom back."

There, that was good and neutral. No feelings. No feelings, Ginny! she reminded herself harshly.

"Keep it for now. You'll need to keep in shape until you join your team in a few weeks."

"How will I get it back to you?" she asked, her brow furrowing. "I expect I'll be rather busy. I might not have time to meet up."

"Just owl it," he replied distractedly.

Ginny felt her heart sink with disappointment. So he really didn't care if he saw her again after this. She kept her expression carefully still, though, for she refused to let him see that feeling on her face.

"We have bigger issues to deal with at present, Weasley," he continued, his face taking on a mild scowl as he held out a scrap of parchment for her to read. "We've been summoned."

"'Summoned'? What?" she asked, grabbing the letter he held and looking it over. "'Dearest Draco, please make yourself available for dinner tonight, and be sure to invite the young lady we're hearing so much about. Love, Mother and Father.' What's this all about? I wasn't under the impression you'd told your parents anything about me."

"I didn't. Have you seen the Daily Prophet this morning?"

"No…" Ginny replied, a feeling of dread settling in her stomach. "I didn't bother taking out a subscription because somebody always leaves one lying about in the lounge. Why?"

Malfoy smiled humorlessly and held up the front page of his copy for her to see. 'Malfoy Heir and Youngest Weasley: Prince and Princess of Quidditch?' read the bold headline emblazoned across the front page, beneath which two black and white images moved in disturbing synchrony; in the first, obviously taken at the ball, they danced elegantly, while in the second, clearly taken sometime after the after party, they appeared to be snogging shamelessly, only partially obscured by some shrubbery outside the training dorm as their hands roved wantonly over each other.

"'Are Draco Malfoy and Ginny Weasley destined to become the new royalty of Quidditch? While the first of these photographs could show nothing more than a casual dance at a mutually-attended social event, and the latter could and likely will be interpreted any number of ways, it seems clear to this reporter that this is a story with all the makings of a fairy-tale romance on the Quidditch pitch, and the entire Wizarding World will undoubtedly follow these two with a keen eye in the months to come,'" Ginny read aloud, a look of abject horror spreading across her features. "Bloody Merlin, when my parents see this… Oh, and it's that damn Skeeter woman again!"

"Naturally," Malfoy agreed. "That woman is determined to get something on me, and it looks as though she finally has. Though I daresay she'd have preferred a photo of me hexing you into oblivion."

As though on cue, two owls arrived at Ginny's window, pecking furiously; as she re-entered her room and let them in, she recognized both her parents' owl and the little burrowing owl that belonged to her brother, the latter of which carried a red envelope that was beginning to smoke. Ginny's face paled as she spotted the Howler, and she wrested it from the little owl and bolted to the bathroom, slamming the door behind her just as it exploded and began to bellow in Ron Weasley's voice.

Malfoy arched an eyebrow as snatches of the screaming missive reached his ears through the closed bathroom door; obviously, Ginny hadn't had time to get off a silencing charm before the Howler blew. Phrases such as 'shaming your family,' 'snogging like a bloody trollop,' 'my sister with a bloody Malfoy,' and 'one thing to put one over on Harry, another for the whole of the wizarding world to see!' could be heard with remarkable clarity, and as a small crowd was beginning to gather at the end of the hall to see what the commotion was, some with copies of the Prophet in hand, Malfoy stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. Apparently the wretched Weasel's howler-amplified voice carried quite well.

When Ginny finally emerged from the bathroom, the sounds of the Howler shredding itself furiously drifting through the doorway behind her, she looked close to tears. Malfoy grimaced as she sat heavily on the bed, wiping preemptively at her eyes. He wanted to offer her some kind of comfort, but in light of the previous night's events, even that seemed complicated and loaded with unspoken implications that he wasn't yet ready to address. Yet, she looked so horribly vulnerable…

Whether to distract herself from Ron's howler or to get another berating out of the way, she wasn't sure which, Ginny opened the note from her parents. It was much more kindly written, but laced with many of the same implications; her parents were concerned about such public displays, and had been under the impression that there had been nothing going on between their daughter and 'the Malfoy boy', despite Ron's previous claims. When she reached the bottom, she laughed humorlessly.

"What?" Malfoy asked, and she felt the mattress sink next to her as he finally sat.

"My parents want us to come to dinner," she replied without looking up.

"When?" he inquired, though he had a sinking feeling that he already knew.

"Tonight," she replied numbly, and when she did finally look at him, she saw that he'd hung his head.

It was a thorny situation indeed, for neither set of parents could be put off without being told that it was for dinner with the other set, which would be the only reason they'd view as sufficient, yet each set would take dinner with the other as proof that there was actually some truth to the whole affair. Which there was, but neither of them was ready to admit it to their families.

"My mum will never let it go," Ginny added quietly.

"Neither will mine. We'll have to go to dinner tonight, or she'll hunt you down on her own, and I rather think there are some questions you'd prefer to let me answer. Not to mention how my father will react."

"I'm not afraid of your mother," Ginny replied, her voice laced with indignance. "Or your father."

"Liar," Malfoy smirked slightly. Ginny didn't bother to correct him; he was right. The idea of being cornered by either of the elder Malfoys at a random place and time was decidedly intimidating.

"We should do dinner at the Burrow first," Ginny decided at last. "Things are likely to devolve into a screaming match, especially if Ron is there and I think we can count on that. Dinner with your parents will give us an excuse to leave, and I daresay your parents will at least allow me to depart in a timely fashion."

"And you'll go back to the Burrow?" he asked. "Won't they still be angry at you?"

"Oh, Ron will be absolutely livid, and my parents will want to talk about it. I think George has been suspicious of something like this for a while now, and he'll want to stir the cauldron just to watch it boil. Better to have it all out at once, though, especially since there's nothing actually going on. At least, nothing that will repeat itself."

Malfoy didn't want to admit to himself that her words had an effect on him, but they did. He knew the previous night had been the result of alcohol consumption and decisions poorly made. It was a mistake, though he hated how that sounded in his head. He knew he should just walk away, that it should be written off and allowed to pass unremarked between them until it was water so far under the bridge that it may as well not have happened at all.

He knew this, but knowing and wanting were two very different things.

"I didn't mean to treat you so harshly this morning," he admitted cautiously. "It was not my intention to make you feel…"

"Cheap? Used? Unwanted?" Ginny supplied.

"Yes, those things," he replied, cringing at the words she had chosen. "I want you to understand…"

"Understand what?" she asked, glancing sideways at him.

He sighed. This conversation was going to be so much more involved than he wanted it to be.

"My first time was… awkward. I was fifteen, and there was this seventh year. She was of age; I'm sure it was horribly illegal on her part, but I was a cocky little shit and I really didn't care. There was a sort of allure to it, you know?"

"That's understandable, I suppose," Ginny said uncomfortably. "But why are you telling me this?"

"Afterward, I used a spell my father had taught me. He always warned me one couldn't depend on witches to be telling the truth about having taken potions and the like, and it was made clear to me that no illegitimate heirs would be tolerated. She said she'd taken a potion and I used the spell anyway, exactly as I'd been told to do."

"What happened?"

"It turns out that if a witch has taken a potion, the spell does nothing. If, on the other hand, the witch in question has lied about it, it gets the job done. With rather unpleasant side effects. She hadn't taken it; she was trying to force my family into some sort of obligation, whether financial or marital I never found out. In any case, she apparently bled for a week and subsequently called me a bastard in front of the whole common room."

Ginny bit her lip as the insult she'd hurled at him that morning rang in her ears.

"Now I prefer to use potions only," he continued. "I supply them and I don't sleep with a witch until after she's taken it. I didn't mean it to be offensive. It's just something I do. I don't want to end up in… that kind of situation."

"You don't want children," she replied, more a statement than a question.

"At least not from some desperate shag with a witch who's lied about taking a potion so she can take a crack at the Malfoy name. That isn't the only reason, but no, I don't particularly want children."

"That isn't what you did with me," Ginny reflected. "You gave it to me afterward. Why?"

"I suppose I trust you," he replied. "As much as I can, anyway."

An awkward silence fell as Ginny contemplated what she'd just been told. It was unlike Malfoy to volunteer that sort of thing about himself so readily, but she supposed she could see why he had; it certainly did help her understand him a little better, and she no longer felt quite so hurt by how the morning had played out.

"I suppose I should tell you about when I lost my virginity," she offered after some thought.

"Unless an older witch shagged you when you were underage and tried to get pregnant on the sly, I'm not sure how it's relevant," he stated, feeling a slight, unwelcome surge of jealousy.

"It's just that I want to share in turn," she replied with a sly look that did not make Malfoy any more comfortable.

"Really, it's not necessary," he insisted. The last thing he wanted to hear about was some recounting of a Ginny Weasley boyfriend parade, particularly since he barely had a leg to stand on in that department. Whatever he was to her, he certainly wasn't that. Yet. No, at all. He couldn't afford to indulge in false hope.

"I was ten. Fred and George were there…" she continued, a faraway look on her face.

"… Now I'm very certain this is a story I don't want to hear," he said, his expression turning to horror.

"We were practicing at Quidditch in the yard. They liked to try hitting Bludgers at me because I was very fast on a broom. It was terribly good fun. Anyway, the cushioning charm on my broom broke and I landed rather hard against the handle. A sharp impact like that can do it sometimes, you know. There was blood everywhere, Fred started shouting, and George just went white as a sheet, picked me up and carried me inside. I can't imagine what Mum thought, with all the yelling and the blood, and me with tears all down my face. I couldn't make a sound, it was such a shock."

"That's… not nearly as bad as I was expecting," he sighed with relief.

Ginny giggled. "Honestly, the look on your face when I brought up Fred and George… you really believe Weasleys will do anything, don't you?"

"I do not! It just didn't seem like a setup that was going to lead anywhere good," he said defensively. "Anyway, I'm not sure how much that counts."

"I'm not either," she confessed. "When Harry came along… sorry if you don't want to hear this, but it didn't feel like much of anything. It was odd, to be sure, and awkward, and I kept waiting for it to be different and it just never was. It's not Harry's fault, you understand; I think at some point, he just became too much like family."

"That's a mental image I really didn't need, Weasley," he said with slight sourness in his voice, and she laughed again. The unspoken implication of her story hung between them: Last night was different. And it had been, for both of them.

Ginny was surprised when Draco rested his hand on her head, and more so when he pressed a small kiss to her temple. When she glanced at him, his face was a mask of forced stoicism, but he couldn't quite hide the turmoil in his eyes.

"I can't offer you much, Weasley. I don't know what I'm doing here," he said quietly. "I'm sorry for that."

"Perhaps we're better as friends," she suggested. "For now, anyway."

"Perhaps," he agreed, though he wasn't at all certain it was the truth.

"I suppose we'd better set our parents straight on that at dinner then."

"I'll let my parents know by owl," he replied. "That said, I have an errand to run when I leave here and I could use some company. Would you mind coming with me?"

"I've got my trunk and everything," Ginny replied uncertainly.

"I can have my parents' house elf take it for you. He's already taken mine."

Ginny thought about it before agreeing, though she didn't have to think very hard. She didn't even know what the errand was, but she supposed it had to be better than what she knew was waiting for her at the Burrow. She wrote a note to her parents telling them what time to expect them for dinner and attached it to her trunk, then watched it disappear with the house elf Malfoy summoned before following him to the fireplace in the lounge.

"Where are we going anyway?" she asked curiously as he scooped a handful of Floo powder and drew her into the fireplace with him, holding her against him closely.

He smirked, threw the Floo powder down, and answered, "St. Mungo's hospital."

They were whisked away through the Floo network, unfamiliar grates whirling by, and moments later they were deposited onto the hearth in the hospital's visitor's lounge.

"Who do you know that's in St. Mungo's?" she asked, perplexed.

He handed her a note, the second letter he had received by owl that morning, and as Ginny read it, her nose wrinkled in disdain.

"You have got to be joking."

"I'm not," he replied with a smirk.

"We're here to visit Pansy Parkinson?" Ginny asked, disgusted.

"We are."

A/N: Eww, Pansy! Don't freak out, guys. I won't make her too horrible or anything. If you liked this chapter, please review and let me know! And, can you believe it, this story now has over 250 reviews! That is a LOT of reviews! Please keep them coming, because I love to hear from my readers! =D

My thanks to Greenstuff, Princess Pheonix Tears, bingbangboom5, shana rose, Nutmeg44, samsbk, Kay8abc, amethyst-rose, PixieDust319, Kaleena-S, Nacilme, Aikoyu Saotome, and babyscardinal for their reviews on the last chapter!