The three Ginnys are confronted by Ferret Fingers
None of the Ginnys had forgotten the effect of Malfoy's shoes. Hysterical Ginny thought she was falling in love ("Well, aren't you the stupid one?" thought the other two) . Anally retentive Ginny thought it was sick, perverted, probably some side-effect due to Tom and his mindgames. After all, no-one knew what he had really done to her..The third Ginny laughed out loud at this: how likely was it that Tom had thought about Malfoy's shoes, for heaven's sakes? She had woken up extra-early one morning and tried to reason it out without the other two interfering - they were not morning people. She got absolutely no answers but just become puzzled and aroused at the same time, a rather unhealthy combination to deal with.
She avoided Malfoy over the next week, taking care never to be within twenty feet of him if she could help it. "Well, Weasel," she told herself, "you're getting very expert at dodging down corridors for someone who looks upon you as a red-haired house-elf!" That made her laugh and feel a bit better. And she was kept occupied. Neville and she had fallen into the habit of talking about the You-Know-Who situation frequently. She didn't feel so alone anymore, but she couldn't bring up the topic of the Ginny- split inside her head; it was too personal. At the end of the week she could dismiss the Great Shoes Incident as the result of indigestion, nightmares, stress, Ron's glares, an overactive imagination...so that was that.
Professor Flitwick smiled. "How to charm a wand? That's a very interesting project, Miss Weasley. In fact, I can demonstrate some of the simpler charms placed on the wand-core with common magical ingredients..hmmm, let me see.." He pottered about, looking through boxes, drawers and bottles in his office. "Oh dear, neither unicorn hairs nor phoenix feathers.I've lost them all somehow..Professor Snape should have some though..Well, Miss Weasley, it seems as if we will have to continue discussing this another day, I'm afraid."
"I could get some unicorn hair from Professor Snape," said the third Ginny. As usual, when her interest was piqued, she lost her usual unease and brightened up. "If you give me a note, Professor, and if you're not busy." And that's how she ended up in the dungeons. "Wait in my office, Miss Weasley," said Snape. "Don't touch anything and don't interrupt the other students there. You may have to wait ten minutes." The 'other students' turned out to be three Slytherins all seemingly working very hard at potion- brewing. Amongst them, of course, was the pale evil monster.
Three very brief glances and then total silence. The Slytherins didn't speak even to each other. She might have been one of Snape's pickles on the shelves. The hidden Ginny, the one who liked Malfoy's shoes, began to stir. She took control of Ginny's body enough to make her shift her position. Ginny found herself at an angle where she could see a portion of Maloy's face, his shoes of course and his hands, manipulating a tall piece of complicated glassware through which different liquids ran, pulsating and glooping. The hidden Ginny furiously fought down the screams and shouts of the rest of the voices. Let's call her the voyeur Ginny, because that's what she became in Malfoy's presence.
His hands. Oh God, so this was the next phase up from his shoes. Long, elegant fingers. She suddenly remembered that she always looked at a man's hands before she decided if she found him attractive. Harry's hands - how many times had she looked at them? Especially when he caught the snitch, reaching out to grasp it. Those were the times when she felt that mounting restlessness inside her, as if she were a band being slowly stretched. That peculiar tension that made her want to scream and pounce on someone, attack them, fight them, fuck them.
"Stop, idiot!" said anally-retentive Ginny. "He hates Muggles. He wished Hermione dead! His father tried to kill you! He would kill you as soon as look at you! Remember what Neville said about him using and abusing power?.." She petered out when she found that none of the other Ginnys were paying the slightest bit of attention. It was all focused on those hands. The liquid glooped, turned different colours, ran fast or slow under the caresses of those hands. She watched, fascinated, as those hands chopped ingredients, counted them, rinsed them, stirred them, dried them, polished them, ground them.
Long, beautiful fingers..she tensed and parted her lips as she thought about one of those hands between her legs and a long pale finger entering her. "WHAT?" shouted so many voices in her hand that she started and put out a hand to steady herself. "Are you totally crazy?!" screeched both hysterical and anally retentive Ginnys together. "I must be," answered the third Ginny dazedly. "Malfoy's fingers? What the fuck?" She quickly removed her gaze to a particularly horrible piece of shifting purple slime in a bottle. But the hidden Ginny, the one who was a silent dark presence in her, refused either to answer or to leave.
She shifted uncomfortably, her wet panties clinging between her thighs. The hidden Ginny rejoiced darkly at this evidence of lust. The rest of the mental spectators were rendered speechless. And still Malfoy carried on twiddling and twisting and moving those fingers, stroking glass, objects, ingredients, lifting, wiping, rinsing, running the tips of his fingers over angles and planes. The palms are strong and solid, she thought. The fingers are long and skilled...and then he turned round and looked at her for a brief moment, coldly. It was like being slapped with a handful of ice. He almost visibly shrugged before turning away, lifting the tall glassware and putting it away gently, and picking up his books. He wrote out a short note, placed it on the desk, and was gone before any of the Ginnys could say a word. He didn't look at her or acknowledge her presence enough to move away as her passed her.
Later she lay on her bed as still as possible. What had happened had seriously disturbed her. The brief belief of hysterical Ginny about being in love had vanished, to be replaced by fear. Anally retentive Ginny perhaps thought this was enough punishment, because she was unusually silent, though watchful. Ginny-at-the-helm ran through the events again and again. She looked at Malfoy's hands. She imagined one of those fingers entering her, all of them resting between her thighs.and that aroused her to the point of wetness. This was her reaction a boy she loathed, hated, feared, who would kill her if he got the chance.
"That was lust, pervert. Girls aren't allowed to lust!" piped up anally retentive Ginny. Hysterical Ginny answered with a low moan of fear that she was a pervert, susceptible to the wiles of men who would abuse her (remember Tom? But at least he had been nice to her!), and lustful to boot. The third Ginny was losing control of the other two, being dragged into their constant oscillation between self-hatred and fear. And there was this new Ginny who was powerful and hidden, who lusted after the shoes and hands of pale evil, who seemed about to push her over the brink, over some precarious edge that she couldn't see. The third Ginny felt that the ground beneath her feet was fast becoming a tightrope over an abyss. Images of pale hands ran through her mind.
Mwahahaha! What's voyeur Ginny going to do next? Any naughty suggestions? Then review! It has to be all dark though, and I'm not going to make Malferret nice, in love, changing himself for her, etc, etc...
None of the Ginnys had forgotten the effect of Malfoy's shoes. Hysterical Ginny thought she was falling in love ("Well, aren't you the stupid one?" thought the other two) . Anally retentive Ginny thought it was sick, perverted, probably some side-effect due to Tom and his mindgames. After all, no-one knew what he had really done to her..The third Ginny laughed out loud at this: how likely was it that Tom had thought about Malfoy's shoes, for heaven's sakes? She had woken up extra-early one morning and tried to reason it out without the other two interfering - they were not morning people. She got absolutely no answers but just become puzzled and aroused at the same time, a rather unhealthy combination to deal with.
She avoided Malfoy over the next week, taking care never to be within twenty feet of him if she could help it. "Well, Weasel," she told herself, "you're getting very expert at dodging down corridors for someone who looks upon you as a red-haired house-elf!" That made her laugh and feel a bit better. And she was kept occupied. Neville and she had fallen into the habit of talking about the You-Know-Who situation frequently. She didn't feel so alone anymore, but she couldn't bring up the topic of the Ginny- split inside her head; it was too personal. At the end of the week she could dismiss the Great Shoes Incident as the result of indigestion, nightmares, stress, Ron's glares, an overactive imagination...so that was that.
Professor Flitwick smiled. "How to charm a wand? That's a very interesting project, Miss Weasley. In fact, I can demonstrate some of the simpler charms placed on the wand-core with common magical ingredients..hmmm, let me see.." He pottered about, looking through boxes, drawers and bottles in his office. "Oh dear, neither unicorn hairs nor phoenix feathers.I've lost them all somehow..Professor Snape should have some though..Well, Miss Weasley, it seems as if we will have to continue discussing this another day, I'm afraid."
"I could get some unicorn hair from Professor Snape," said the third Ginny. As usual, when her interest was piqued, she lost her usual unease and brightened up. "If you give me a note, Professor, and if you're not busy." And that's how she ended up in the dungeons. "Wait in my office, Miss Weasley," said Snape. "Don't touch anything and don't interrupt the other students there. You may have to wait ten minutes." The 'other students' turned out to be three Slytherins all seemingly working very hard at potion- brewing. Amongst them, of course, was the pale evil monster.
Three very brief glances and then total silence. The Slytherins didn't speak even to each other. She might have been one of Snape's pickles on the shelves. The hidden Ginny, the one who liked Malfoy's shoes, began to stir. She took control of Ginny's body enough to make her shift her position. Ginny found herself at an angle where she could see a portion of Maloy's face, his shoes of course and his hands, manipulating a tall piece of complicated glassware through which different liquids ran, pulsating and glooping. The hidden Ginny furiously fought down the screams and shouts of the rest of the voices. Let's call her the voyeur Ginny, because that's what she became in Malfoy's presence.
His hands. Oh God, so this was the next phase up from his shoes. Long, elegant fingers. She suddenly remembered that she always looked at a man's hands before she decided if she found him attractive. Harry's hands - how many times had she looked at them? Especially when he caught the snitch, reaching out to grasp it. Those were the times when she felt that mounting restlessness inside her, as if she were a band being slowly stretched. That peculiar tension that made her want to scream and pounce on someone, attack them, fight them, fuck them.
"Stop, idiot!" said anally-retentive Ginny. "He hates Muggles. He wished Hermione dead! His father tried to kill you! He would kill you as soon as look at you! Remember what Neville said about him using and abusing power?.." She petered out when she found that none of the other Ginnys were paying the slightest bit of attention. It was all focused on those hands. The liquid glooped, turned different colours, ran fast or slow under the caresses of those hands. She watched, fascinated, as those hands chopped ingredients, counted them, rinsed them, stirred them, dried them, polished them, ground them.
Long, beautiful fingers..she tensed and parted her lips as she thought about one of those hands between her legs and a long pale finger entering her. "WHAT?" shouted so many voices in her hand that she started and put out a hand to steady herself. "Are you totally crazy?!" screeched both hysterical and anally retentive Ginnys together. "I must be," answered the third Ginny dazedly. "Malfoy's fingers? What the fuck?" She quickly removed her gaze to a particularly horrible piece of shifting purple slime in a bottle. But the hidden Ginny, the one who was a silent dark presence in her, refused either to answer or to leave.
She shifted uncomfortably, her wet panties clinging between her thighs. The hidden Ginny rejoiced darkly at this evidence of lust. The rest of the mental spectators were rendered speechless. And still Malfoy carried on twiddling and twisting and moving those fingers, stroking glass, objects, ingredients, lifting, wiping, rinsing, running the tips of his fingers over angles and planes. The palms are strong and solid, she thought. The fingers are long and skilled...and then he turned round and looked at her for a brief moment, coldly. It was like being slapped with a handful of ice. He almost visibly shrugged before turning away, lifting the tall glassware and putting it away gently, and picking up his books. He wrote out a short note, placed it on the desk, and was gone before any of the Ginnys could say a word. He didn't look at her or acknowledge her presence enough to move away as her passed her.
Later she lay on her bed as still as possible. What had happened had seriously disturbed her. The brief belief of hysterical Ginny about being in love had vanished, to be replaced by fear. Anally retentive Ginny perhaps thought this was enough punishment, because she was unusually silent, though watchful. Ginny-at-the-helm ran through the events again and again. She looked at Malfoy's hands. She imagined one of those fingers entering her, all of them resting between her thighs.and that aroused her to the point of wetness. This was her reaction a boy she loathed, hated, feared, who would kill her if he got the chance.
"That was lust, pervert. Girls aren't allowed to lust!" piped up anally retentive Ginny. Hysterical Ginny answered with a low moan of fear that she was a pervert, susceptible to the wiles of men who would abuse her (remember Tom? But at least he had been nice to her!), and lustful to boot. The third Ginny was losing control of the other two, being dragged into their constant oscillation between self-hatred and fear. And there was this new Ginny who was powerful and hidden, who lusted after the shoes and hands of pale evil, who seemed about to push her over the brink, over some precarious edge that she couldn't see. The third Ginny felt that the ground beneath her feet was fast becoming a tightrope over an abyss. Images of pale hands ran through her mind.
Mwahahaha! What's voyeur Ginny going to do next? Any naughty suggestions? Then review! It has to be all dark though, and I'm not going to make Malferret nice, in love, changing himself for her, etc, etc...
