YAY! Cat is now officially my co-author! WOOT! I loooove you Cat! :D
Onto Draco and Ginny!
Much love from Texas...and Oklahoma!
Enjoy!
~Ash and Cat
Draco was running, running and not giving a damn about where he was going. To anyone else, he looked like he was merely trying to keep his lovely figure in shape. Of course, that was only part of the reason. For all Malfoy cared, he could damn well grow a potbelly the size of a pumpkin. Unfortunately, in order for him to stay on the quidditch team, that couldn't happen. He had to stay in shape, which was, undoubtedly, what his excuse would be to anyone who asked.
The fact that he was trying to rid his mind of a certain redheaded girl had positively no influence on why he was now looking ready to kill someone and not paying any attention to where he was going. Thus, when he nearly smushed someone, he at first thought it utterly ridiculous that someone else would be awake at seven in the morning on a Saturday, particularly outside, then realized that he was on top of someone and nearly blushed. The keyword there, my friends, is nearly.
"Watch where you're going." He said coldly, rising to his feet with a look of disdain toward whatever he'd run over.
* * *
The rustling of papers, the cramming for her OWLS, the glaring of Madam Pince, it was all just too much for the distracted redhead. She hurriedly collided and smashed her books together as she quickly stood, causing her old robes to swish down to the tops of her feet. She shyly tucked a tendril of her fiery hair behind a pale ear as she trotted across the library, giving Madam Pince a small smile before escaping down the corridors, looking to the Gryffindor Tower to drop her heavy books off at.
The reason why she had been distracted, she refused to admit to herself, was because of a certain blond-haired boy. Not that she'd ever confess that to be the truth, something in the back of her mind nagged and pulled at her guts, whispering in her ears, although it felt as if they were thunderous echoes, it was he.
She hadn't been able to shake her thoughts of him ever since that spectacle in the hallway. The semi-private intrusion onto each other. She still didn't know what had crept onto her, forcing her to touch her lips to his. And she still refused to admit she had enjoyed it.
It was Malfoy for crying out loud.
She shuddered at the thought as she slipped into the common room, dropping off her books, then headed back out quickly, avoiding a strict lecture from the fat lady in the portrait as she carefully stormed down the dark and damp corridors, hoping to escape the plaguing thoughts in her mind.
She ran out onto the green Quidditch field, allowing her bright red, Weasley locks to fly behind her as she raced about, allowing the wind to bite silently at her, now rosy, cheeks.
She steadied her breathing, finally finding herself able to forget about the recent happenings, she found herself flat on the damp grass. She lay on the ground, her locks sprawled around her, and as she opened her deep, chocolate brown eyes, she found them staring into those of a quite familiar icy grey stare.
* * *
Oh sweet Merlin, why? Of all the bloody people who could've been out running, of all the people he could've tripped over and onto, it had to be Ginny Weasley. The fact of the matter was that he'd been doing a good job of avoiding her, not making eye contact with her, not speaking of her, not having anything to do with the little redhead who had bothered with him in the hallway that day... the one who had spilled ink on his hair, the one who had cared.
It took a while for him to catch himself staring down at her. After all, he was so lost in thought... or was it those eyes of hers? Of course not; that was ridiculous, ludicrous, preposterous.
"Weasley." He said flatly, though he didn't remove himself from his current position, rather he just stared at her, an unreadable look about him. He'd always been rather good at that, being impossible to read, making him seem as though he were feeling nothing, and if he was, they most certainly would never figure it out.
"Why the hell are you out here this early in the morning? Shouldn't you be in bed with Potter?" Ugh, that would, of course, make sense. The girl had been bloody obsessed with Potter for years, though he'd been too busy saving the world before bedtime to realize it. Moron. Of course, what did he care? He should be pleased, shouldn't he? And he was... Potter missed out on-- no... Potter didn't get the satisfaction of bedding someone before he turned thirty.
* * *
Ginny glared up at him, soon realizing her lack of oxygen. "Get off me, Malfoy." She quickly found herself saying, yet regretted it.
She wriggled underneath his weight, yet stopped as she heard his comment about Harry. Her twinkling brown eyes flickered with anger at first, yet quickly calmed to a somewhat amused haze.
"Yes, well, you know. He's not very satisfying in bed."
As soon as the words had left her lips, she bit down on the traitors quickly. What was wrong with her? First she actually showed caring for Malfoy, kissed him, then preceded to badmouth the one boy she thought she'd ever love.
She felt like a completely different person.
And shockingly, she wasn't afraid of the fact.
She gave him a quick smirk before pushing him off of her, to stand up on her own. She smoothed her slender fingers over her somewhat faded robes, carefully causing the newly arrived wrinkles to disappear.
She hesitantly lifted her gaze to his, raking a few fingertips through her fire strands as she gave him a mock confused glance.
"And what are you doing away from your two lackeys?" She asked innocently, referring to, of course, Crabbe and Goyle. "I'm quite sure your side of the mattress is cold next to their blubbering, fat arses." She commented, before shrugging her shoulders helplessly, as if she had just commented on the weather, and turned to leave, a sarcastic grin creeping at her red lips.
* * *
Oh, what music to his ears. Even if she hadn't slept with Potter, which he knew for certain she hadn't. VIRGINia most certainly wouldn't have gotten laid by Potter of all people. The guy was pathetic. Yes, he'd seen him with Cho, the rather lovely Ravenclaw last year. It was pathetic. Draco wasn't quite sure what she'd seen in him; probably the fact that he was the big hero. Girls tended to swoon over those types of people. Oh well.
Though Weasley most likely thought it was all her doing, he gracefully rolled off of her when he felt her push, smirking slightly to himself. She had a rather interesting air about her, that was for certain. She had that same damned Weasley pride her brother had, though she was at least slightly humorous about it all. Ronald was... pathetic. Heck, in second year the guy had cursed himself, causing him to puke slugs for what Draco supposed were hours on end.
"Crabbe and Goyle? In my bed? Lord, Weasley, don't make me sick." He gave her the classic Malfoy smirk. "I don't swing that way, though I have a feeling they might, the way they follow me around like they do. I don't make them, contrary to popular belief." He smirked. "Yes Weasley, it's a miracle. Someone wants to be in Malfoy's presence!" He gasped sarcastically and rolled his eyes. "Honestly..."
He then found himself speaking again. "Hmm... that must mean you've taken a liking to my arse, being that you considered it not fat as there's are. Really, I'm touched."
* * *
She turned about as Malfoy continued to speak. She could have sworn she was experiencing déjà vu. Ginny gave him a pleasant smile as he complimented himself. She rolled her eyes. Typical Malfoy. Has to turn everything into something to stroke his ego even more so.
"No, of course you don't have a fat arse, Draco." She confessed, giving him a pleasant smile, letting her comment soak in, to even inflate his conceited mind even more so. "You're fat's all in your head." She said, her grin broadening as she intensified her gaze a bit.
Her smile started to slowly fade as she felt a shiver run up and down her spine, intriguing her senses, and causing a few newly arrived goose bumps to appeared over her frail, pale arms.
The gust picked up her mid-length, fire-red locks, floating them about, a few pieces flying in front of her chocolate eyes, breaking her concentration on his gray stare. She ran her fingers through the tresses, wanting them to calm, yet only ruffled them more, as the wind flirted along the nape of her neck, lightly tickling her skin.
She finally gave up, as a powerful gusted through, forcing all her hair to flow on the sides of her, making a seductive aura appear around her, her eyes darting across his face, her lips now in a slightly wanting pout, as she drifted her gaze to the ground, trying to avoid more gusts of the terrorizing wind and her desire for him.
* * *
Draco let out a bitter laugh. Wasn't Weasley supposed to be the innocent little girl? She did seem to be going against such in the last few days. She'd dumped ink on his head, called him a death-eater-in-training little bastard, and now she'd called him egotistical in a sense. Of course, it wasn't as though he hadn't brought such things upon himself. No, he'd managed to make the redhead's fiery temper unleash time and time again. He couldn't help himself, for it was quite amusing.
Fiery... just like the girl's red hair, now swirling around her in a manner Draco could only stare at. It was... intriguing, perhaps too much so... He shook his head quickly. Weasley here, Draco. Weasley.
As the girl's smile faded and cold began to overtake her, the boy let out a small sigh. It seemed Little Miss Weasley hadn't dressed warmly enough for a morning jog in Britain. Perhaps she'd thought she lived in Hawaii. Either way, she now had goose bumps all up and down her, was shivering, and had every indication of being quite cold. Ah well, he couldn't leave her to freeze to death.
He removed his Slytherin sweatshirt over his head, revealing only a white muscle shirt underneath and tossed it to her. "Don't freeze, Weasley." That said, he smirked once more and took off running again, this time toward the castle. He most certainly wasn't going to freeze. He'd had enough running for one day.
* * *
Ginny caught Draco's sweatshirt in her hands as he threw it to her, snatching it from the wind's snarling grasp.
She watched as he ran off, his t-shirt hugging his body nicely. Her mouth started to unexpectedly water, as she watched the fabric clutch his firmly defined muscles...
No Ginny! She silently told herself, returning her attention to the sweatshirt lying in her hands. She darted her gaze around, contemplating on whether to slip it on or not, and as the wind blared down at her once more, she gave in and swiftly slipped it over her head. She found herself quickly heading the opposite direction Draco had ran, folding her arms over her chest as she walked towards the castle, hoping to escape her thoughts.
As she stepped into the castle, she found herself in the Great Hall, quite unexpectedly. She sat herself down at the Gryffindor table, oblivious to a few stares she was attracting by the few stragglers from the last meal.
She helped herself to some pumpkin juice as she quickly recognized Ron and Harry's voices a few seats down.
"Ginny?" She turned towards Harry, giving him a soft smile.
"Yes, Harry?"
As Harry opened his mouth to ask his question, Ron quickly interrupted him. "Why are you wearing... that?" His brow creased in slight puzzlement as he raised a red brow at his sister.
To Be Continued! :)
Onto Draco and Ginny!
Much love from Texas...and Oklahoma!
Enjoy!
~Ash and Cat
Draco was running, running and not giving a damn about where he was going. To anyone else, he looked like he was merely trying to keep his lovely figure in shape. Of course, that was only part of the reason. For all Malfoy cared, he could damn well grow a potbelly the size of a pumpkin. Unfortunately, in order for him to stay on the quidditch team, that couldn't happen. He had to stay in shape, which was, undoubtedly, what his excuse would be to anyone who asked.
The fact that he was trying to rid his mind of a certain redheaded girl had positively no influence on why he was now looking ready to kill someone and not paying any attention to where he was going. Thus, when he nearly smushed someone, he at first thought it utterly ridiculous that someone else would be awake at seven in the morning on a Saturday, particularly outside, then realized that he was on top of someone and nearly blushed. The keyword there, my friends, is nearly.
"Watch where you're going." He said coldly, rising to his feet with a look of disdain toward whatever he'd run over.
* * *
The rustling of papers, the cramming for her OWLS, the glaring of Madam Pince, it was all just too much for the distracted redhead. She hurriedly collided and smashed her books together as she quickly stood, causing her old robes to swish down to the tops of her feet. She shyly tucked a tendril of her fiery hair behind a pale ear as she trotted across the library, giving Madam Pince a small smile before escaping down the corridors, looking to the Gryffindor Tower to drop her heavy books off at.
The reason why she had been distracted, she refused to admit to herself, was because of a certain blond-haired boy. Not that she'd ever confess that to be the truth, something in the back of her mind nagged and pulled at her guts, whispering in her ears, although it felt as if they were thunderous echoes, it was he.
She hadn't been able to shake her thoughts of him ever since that spectacle in the hallway. The semi-private intrusion onto each other. She still didn't know what had crept onto her, forcing her to touch her lips to his. And she still refused to admit she had enjoyed it.
It was Malfoy for crying out loud.
She shuddered at the thought as she slipped into the common room, dropping off her books, then headed back out quickly, avoiding a strict lecture from the fat lady in the portrait as she carefully stormed down the dark and damp corridors, hoping to escape the plaguing thoughts in her mind.
She ran out onto the green Quidditch field, allowing her bright red, Weasley locks to fly behind her as she raced about, allowing the wind to bite silently at her, now rosy, cheeks.
She steadied her breathing, finally finding herself able to forget about the recent happenings, she found herself flat on the damp grass. She lay on the ground, her locks sprawled around her, and as she opened her deep, chocolate brown eyes, she found them staring into those of a quite familiar icy grey stare.
* * *
Oh sweet Merlin, why? Of all the bloody people who could've been out running, of all the people he could've tripped over and onto, it had to be Ginny Weasley. The fact of the matter was that he'd been doing a good job of avoiding her, not making eye contact with her, not speaking of her, not having anything to do with the little redhead who had bothered with him in the hallway that day... the one who had spilled ink on his hair, the one who had cared.
It took a while for him to catch himself staring down at her. After all, he was so lost in thought... or was it those eyes of hers? Of course not; that was ridiculous, ludicrous, preposterous.
"Weasley." He said flatly, though he didn't remove himself from his current position, rather he just stared at her, an unreadable look about him. He'd always been rather good at that, being impossible to read, making him seem as though he were feeling nothing, and if he was, they most certainly would never figure it out.
"Why the hell are you out here this early in the morning? Shouldn't you be in bed with Potter?" Ugh, that would, of course, make sense. The girl had been bloody obsessed with Potter for years, though he'd been too busy saving the world before bedtime to realize it. Moron. Of course, what did he care? He should be pleased, shouldn't he? And he was... Potter missed out on-- no... Potter didn't get the satisfaction of bedding someone before he turned thirty.
* * *
Ginny glared up at him, soon realizing her lack of oxygen. "Get off me, Malfoy." She quickly found herself saying, yet regretted it.
She wriggled underneath his weight, yet stopped as she heard his comment about Harry. Her twinkling brown eyes flickered with anger at first, yet quickly calmed to a somewhat amused haze.
"Yes, well, you know. He's not very satisfying in bed."
As soon as the words had left her lips, she bit down on the traitors quickly. What was wrong with her? First she actually showed caring for Malfoy, kissed him, then preceded to badmouth the one boy she thought she'd ever love.
She felt like a completely different person.
And shockingly, she wasn't afraid of the fact.
She gave him a quick smirk before pushing him off of her, to stand up on her own. She smoothed her slender fingers over her somewhat faded robes, carefully causing the newly arrived wrinkles to disappear.
She hesitantly lifted her gaze to his, raking a few fingertips through her fire strands as she gave him a mock confused glance.
"And what are you doing away from your two lackeys?" She asked innocently, referring to, of course, Crabbe and Goyle. "I'm quite sure your side of the mattress is cold next to their blubbering, fat arses." She commented, before shrugging her shoulders helplessly, as if she had just commented on the weather, and turned to leave, a sarcastic grin creeping at her red lips.
* * *
Oh, what music to his ears. Even if she hadn't slept with Potter, which he knew for certain she hadn't. VIRGINia most certainly wouldn't have gotten laid by Potter of all people. The guy was pathetic. Yes, he'd seen him with Cho, the rather lovely Ravenclaw last year. It was pathetic. Draco wasn't quite sure what she'd seen in him; probably the fact that he was the big hero. Girls tended to swoon over those types of people. Oh well.
Though Weasley most likely thought it was all her doing, he gracefully rolled off of her when he felt her push, smirking slightly to himself. She had a rather interesting air about her, that was for certain. She had that same damned Weasley pride her brother had, though she was at least slightly humorous about it all. Ronald was... pathetic. Heck, in second year the guy had cursed himself, causing him to puke slugs for what Draco supposed were hours on end.
"Crabbe and Goyle? In my bed? Lord, Weasley, don't make me sick." He gave her the classic Malfoy smirk. "I don't swing that way, though I have a feeling they might, the way they follow me around like they do. I don't make them, contrary to popular belief." He smirked. "Yes Weasley, it's a miracle. Someone wants to be in Malfoy's presence!" He gasped sarcastically and rolled his eyes. "Honestly..."
He then found himself speaking again. "Hmm... that must mean you've taken a liking to my arse, being that you considered it not fat as there's are. Really, I'm touched."
* * *
She turned about as Malfoy continued to speak. She could have sworn she was experiencing déjà vu. Ginny gave him a pleasant smile as he complimented himself. She rolled her eyes. Typical Malfoy. Has to turn everything into something to stroke his ego even more so.
"No, of course you don't have a fat arse, Draco." She confessed, giving him a pleasant smile, letting her comment soak in, to even inflate his conceited mind even more so. "You're fat's all in your head." She said, her grin broadening as she intensified her gaze a bit.
Her smile started to slowly fade as she felt a shiver run up and down her spine, intriguing her senses, and causing a few newly arrived goose bumps to appeared over her frail, pale arms.
The gust picked up her mid-length, fire-red locks, floating them about, a few pieces flying in front of her chocolate eyes, breaking her concentration on his gray stare. She ran her fingers through the tresses, wanting them to calm, yet only ruffled them more, as the wind flirted along the nape of her neck, lightly tickling her skin.
She finally gave up, as a powerful gusted through, forcing all her hair to flow on the sides of her, making a seductive aura appear around her, her eyes darting across his face, her lips now in a slightly wanting pout, as she drifted her gaze to the ground, trying to avoid more gusts of the terrorizing wind and her desire for him.
* * *
Draco let out a bitter laugh. Wasn't Weasley supposed to be the innocent little girl? She did seem to be going against such in the last few days. She'd dumped ink on his head, called him a death-eater-in-training little bastard, and now she'd called him egotistical in a sense. Of course, it wasn't as though he hadn't brought such things upon himself. No, he'd managed to make the redhead's fiery temper unleash time and time again. He couldn't help himself, for it was quite amusing.
Fiery... just like the girl's red hair, now swirling around her in a manner Draco could only stare at. It was... intriguing, perhaps too much so... He shook his head quickly. Weasley here, Draco. Weasley.
As the girl's smile faded and cold began to overtake her, the boy let out a small sigh. It seemed Little Miss Weasley hadn't dressed warmly enough for a morning jog in Britain. Perhaps she'd thought she lived in Hawaii. Either way, she now had goose bumps all up and down her, was shivering, and had every indication of being quite cold. Ah well, he couldn't leave her to freeze to death.
He removed his Slytherin sweatshirt over his head, revealing only a white muscle shirt underneath and tossed it to her. "Don't freeze, Weasley." That said, he smirked once more and took off running again, this time toward the castle. He most certainly wasn't going to freeze. He'd had enough running for one day.
* * *
Ginny caught Draco's sweatshirt in her hands as he threw it to her, snatching it from the wind's snarling grasp.
She watched as he ran off, his t-shirt hugging his body nicely. Her mouth started to unexpectedly water, as she watched the fabric clutch his firmly defined muscles...
No Ginny! She silently told herself, returning her attention to the sweatshirt lying in her hands. She darted her gaze around, contemplating on whether to slip it on or not, and as the wind blared down at her once more, she gave in and swiftly slipped it over her head. She found herself quickly heading the opposite direction Draco had ran, folding her arms over her chest as she walked towards the castle, hoping to escape her thoughts.
As she stepped into the castle, she found herself in the Great Hall, quite unexpectedly. She sat herself down at the Gryffindor table, oblivious to a few stares she was attracting by the few stragglers from the last meal.
She helped herself to some pumpkin juice as she quickly recognized Ron and Harry's voices a few seats down.
"Ginny?" She turned towards Harry, giving him a soft smile.
"Yes, Harry?"
As Harry opened his mouth to ask his question, Ron quickly interrupted him. "Why are you wearing... that?" His brow creased in slight puzzlement as he raised a red brow at his sister.
To Be Continued! :)