The Ferret, the Weasel and the Really Bad Decision
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Ginny walked around the Gryffindor common room for hours that night. There was a load of static inside her head from all the Ginnys shouting at her, and the dark silent creature inside her growling now and again.
The anally retentive Ginny said: "You are so way behind on Potions! Transfiguration! Charms!.." she trailed off, her voice getting squeakier and more distant as other, louder voices took over.
The normal Ginny handled everything rather confusedly, she was only capable of pacing the common room and eating an endless supply of chocolate frogs (having begged a box off Neville earlier).
The hysterical Ginny seemed to have disappeared into a large pink cloud that said "Aaaaaaah." in a very satisfied tone every time she remembered Draco Malfoy's hands upon her skin, or rather, Draco Malfoy's black leather gloves. She shivered deliciously at the thought of Draco Malfoy wearing nothing but black leather gloves. Oh yes. This Ginny was turning out to be uncontrollably forward and lustful. The normal Ginny was uncomfortably reminded of what her mother would call 'scarlet women'. Well, this one was flaming alright. She kept humming that unforgettable song to herself. Let me pleasure you, my darling / Feel my yearning, touch my longing....
Should she send Pig to him again or not? And should she tell him the truth? How much of it? (Because not the whole of it, of course.) None of the Ginnys helped, especially as the large pink cloud of lust obscured any rational thought. What had that tap done? Did it have some kind of love charm on it? Absurd, it couldn't have.
Rummage for parchment in the deserted dorm, again.
Malfoy,
If you want the truth, bring the tap.
G
And she tied the letter to Pig's leg because it seemed the most pleasurable thing to do.
Draco Malfoy caught the sodden letter in mid-air. It was raining cats and dogs and the stupid little owl had almost drowned, they couldn't go outside to the lake. He smiled as he 'borrowed' Goyle's owl. He knew she wouldn't resist the tap.
Ginevra,
Alas, the rain. The entrance to the dungeons, an hour before curfew. Be there.
He signed it with an emerald snake biting its tail.
She was there on time, looking nervous and jumping as she heard some unknown Slytherins pass her, looking at her suspiciously. Finally the man himself appeared (he's only a boy, she told herself, just Ron's age). He beckoned to her and then strode off, away from the Slytherin common room. She followed, feeling sullen and hoping he had brought the tap.
They ended up in a little room almost unnoticeable if you didn't know exactly where the crack in the stone wall was. He lit a fire (rather dramatically she thought, but then the whole atmosphere was melodramatic, the rain beating hard against the single window with the broken pane, the flaring fire that gave no heat, the long shadows it cast on his face).
"Time for the truth yet, Ginevra?" His voice was impatient, rough. He had at some point decided to drop the charm and the sinister side showed through plainly. The hidden creature inside her loved it and stretched luxuriously.
How much should she tell him? Merlin, where were the damned voices in her head when she needed some advice fast? "Tell me everything, Ginevra." He could read her face, at any rate. But she was stubborn too.
"You ask the questions, Malfoy. And I'll answer you, if - you let me hold the tap." She said the last part rather quickly, unwilling to admit even to herself how much of a hold the tap had over her. He smiled and she had a feeling that he knew the exact extent of her - obsession?
He pulled it out from his robes, along with the ebony wand. He wasn't wearing gloves this time. He brought the tap close to her face, waving it to and fro before her, a slightly taunting smile on her face. Ginny realised the expression as one that a little boy would have while pulling the wings off a particularly rare dragonfly. Somehow, it irritated her on one level but excited her on another.
She swatted the tap away from him softly, but he let go, he had been expecting it. She held it up to her ear and it began to hum silkily. She involuntarily moved closer to the fire as she shivered, and the humming became louder. Quickly she moved right upto the fire, and the song of the tap filled the room.
"My face well-hidden from the light
I hold my name all out of sight
But within me I have fire! Fire!
Shooting through pools of mad desire.
Youth and maiden, golds and reds
Drown yourselves in velvet beds
If you would true sensation know
Come, come, here is my molten flow..."
"I think it's talking to both of us this time," he observed. Ginny yelped and jumped back; so absorbed had she been in the song that she had almost walked into the fire and the smell of cheap scorched cloth told her that her robes had suffered for it. He was smiling cruelly. "You're the one it's had the strangest effect so far."
"What?" "You know," he said lazily, drawing a hand through his soft hair. "All the other girls just let me pounce on them." Ginny had the horrible hot feeling that meant she was blushing to the roots of her hair. She was vaguely aware that her mouth had fallen open. He was now leering at her suggestively, playing with his wand. She dragged her jaw back up and attempted a stiff manner that even she wasn't fooled by. "I don't want to know, Malfoy."
He cocked his head to one side and regarded her thoughtfully. "But I do want to know, little one. Who opened the Chamber of Secrets?" She went for a compromise. "You-know-who." "Mm, I know that. But whose body did he use?" "Someone's." Now that was not a clever answer. "You're a real fount of information, not to mention intelligence." He was shaking his head at her as if she were the class dunce and had just let him, the teacher, down. "What was the name of the 'someone'?"
"No, Malfoy, there's no way I'm telling." He came very close to her, and again her head tipped back so she could glare at him. He was frowning slightly, as if she were an academic problem that he was finding difficult. "Why you?" "I told you, I was the only one wandering around." "Who took you in there?" "You-know-who." "Whose body was it he occupied?" "Gilderoy Lockhart's." "I see." He regarded her again. "Well, I see that you're not biting, Ginevra. No-one would have chosen that bumbling idiot."
"So what was it like down there?" Ah, change of tack. "Really, I don't remember, I was out most of the time." He raised both eyebrows. "Ginevra," he bent down so that his robes brushed hers and his eyes were about a handspan away. "A song in exchange for the truth," he whispered. "You got the song, now give me the truth." "Are you calling me a liar?" she squeaked (it wasn't meant to come out as a squeak).
He began to snigger. "Ah, brave but not well-endowed up here, Ginevra." He tapped his forehead. "One hopes that you make up for it" his eyes flicked over her small form and the freshly scorched robes "elsewhere." That was it. She had now been officially insulted and could attack. The hidden creature inside her stood up on its hind legs and keened.
She barrelled into him as hard as she could, almost knocking him ever. The next few minutes passed in a blur of tangled robes, flying red hair, and pale skin that she tried hard to bite, snapping at him and clawing him ferociously. He swore fluidly as he got out of the way of her teeth and nails, surprisingly retaining enough self-control to keep from hexing her.
Finally he wrestled her into the ground, twisting her arms behind her, one knee in the small of her back, his full weight on her legs. She was panting hard, her robes had ripped, her hair flowed over her face as she panted, getting in her mouth. She relaxed and began to gather her strength for another attack.
He was breathing hard too. He released the pressure on her fractionally and she took full advantage, thrashing wildly to get away from him, twisting her neck nearly out of joint and she tried to reach some skin she could bite. He grabbed her hair and ground the knee into the small of her back. Some part of her was finding this tactile confrontation very satisfying, not sexually, simply physically. Was it that long since she had tried to beat Ron up? she wondered as she lay with one cheek pressed painfully against the floor now at eye-level.
"It was the song, wasn't it? It's addled your mind. So you did want me to pounce on you after all, Ginevra. Funny, you don't look like you have a fetish for violent handling." She could hear him reaching for his wand. She kicked out but didn't manage to get her leg free. The wand prodded the back of her neck. "Petrificus cervicem" he said, panting. She was frozen from the neck down.
He got off her, brushing down his robes. She tried to thrash, but the only thing she could move was her head; she craned over her shoulder and saw him drawing up a large armchair in mid-air. As soon as it appeared he dragged her off the ground and onto his lap. Her robes fell off. She tried biting him but he caught hold of her hair very near her head and yanked hard enough for tears to come into her eyes. He stared at her for a long moment, his eyes cold and assessing. Then he nodded to himself, and smiled that charming smile. "Don't cry, Ginevra darling. Remember, you asked for this. That should be some comfort."
He began to hum softly, pointing at her uniform with his wand. "My face well- hidden from the light / I hold my name all out of sight." The buttons of the grey school waistcoat opened halfway, the tie unknotted itself and slid off her neck. "But within me I have fire! Fire! (he hissed this last word) / Shooting through pools of mad desire." The starched white shirt beneath began to open as he looked closely at his handiwork. Ginny couldn't scream, the spell made sure of that.
Youth and maiden, golds and reds/Drown yourselves in velvet beds He carried on singing softly, yanking her head back to expose her throat. He sucked hard on her neck, his teeth not finding enough purchase on the meagre flesh for a deep bite. His other hand wrapped around the back of her neck, pulling on the small hairs. Guilt flowered in her as the lovebite progressed and she didn't stop enjoying it.
"If you would true sensation know/ Come, come, here is my molten flow.." He parted the shirt with his wand, gazing almost tenderly down on the small curves of her breasts. In a swift motion he bent his head and bit her hard on her left breast. Merlin, the pain! It shot through her as she screamed silently, squeezing her eyes shut, tears leaking through the corners.
He smiled and whispered "amicio".
He let her down on the floor and waved his wand, the chair vanished. He pointed at her and mouthed "transitor". He leaned down and looked dispassionately at her. ""You can leave in the next ten minutes, Ginevra. Let this be our secret, little one." He was gone, leaving the door ajar.
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'amicio' (Latin): to clothe , wrap round, wrap up, cover, conceal
Ginny walked around the Gryffindor common room for hours that night. There was a load of static inside her head from all the Ginnys shouting at her, and the dark silent creature inside her growling now and again.
The anally retentive Ginny said: "You are so way behind on Potions! Transfiguration! Charms!.." she trailed off, her voice getting squeakier and more distant as other, louder voices took over.
The normal Ginny handled everything rather confusedly, she was only capable of pacing the common room and eating an endless supply of chocolate frogs (having begged a box off Neville earlier).
The hysterical Ginny seemed to have disappeared into a large pink cloud that said "Aaaaaaah." in a very satisfied tone every time she remembered Draco Malfoy's hands upon her skin, or rather, Draco Malfoy's black leather gloves. She shivered deliciously at the thought of Draco Malfoy wearing nothing but black leather gloves. Oh yes. This Ginny was turning out to be uncontrollably forward and lustful. The normal Ginny was uncomfortably reminded of what her mother would call 'scarlet women'. Well, this one was flaming alright. She kept humming that unforgettable song to herself. Let me pleasure you, my darling / Feel my yearning, touch my longing....
Should she send Pig to him again or not? And should she tell him the truth? How much of it? (Because not the whole of it, of course.) None of the Ginnys helped, especially as the large pink cloud of lust obscured any rational thought. What had that tap done? Did it have some kind of love charm on it? Absurd, it couldn't have.
Rummage for parchment in the deserted dorm, again.
Malfoy,
If you want the truth, bring the tap.
G
And she tied the letter to Pig's leg because it seemed the most pleasurable thing to do.
Draco Malfoy caught the sodden letter in mid-air. It was raining cats and dogs and the stupid little owl had almost drowned, they couldn't go outside to the lake. He smiled as he 'borrowed' Goyle's owl. He knew she wouldn't resist the tap.
Ginevra,
Alas, the rain. The entrance to the dungeons, an hour before curfew. Be there.
He signed it with an emerald snake biting its tail.
She was there on time, looking nervous and jumping as she heard some unknown Slytherins pass her, looking at her suspiciously. Finally the man himself appeared (he's only a boy, she told herself, just Ron's age). He beckoned to her and then strode off, away from the Slytherin common room. She followed, feeling sullen and hoping he had brought the tap.
They ended up in a little room almost unnoticeable if you didn't know exactly where the crack in the stone wall was. He lit a fire (rather dramatically she thought, but then the whole atmosphere was melodramatic, the rain beating hard against the single window with the broken pane, the flaring fire that gave no heat, the long shadows it cast on his face).
"Time for the truth yet, Ginevra?" His voice was impatient, rough. He had at some point decided to drop the charm and the sinister side showed through plainly. The hidden creature inside her loved it and stretched luxuriously.
How much should she tell him? Merlin, where were the damned voices in her head when she needed some advice fast? "Tell me everything, Ginevra." He could read her face, at any rate. But she was stubborn too.
"You ask the questions, Malfoy. And I'll answer you, if - you let me hold the tap." She said the last part rather quickly, unwilling to admit even to herself how much of a hold the tap had over her. He smiled and she had a feeling that he knew the exact extent of her - obsession?
He pulled it out from his robes, along with the ebony wand. He wasn't wearing gloves this time. He brought the tap close to her face, waving it to and fro before her, a slightly taunting smile on her face. Ginny realised the expression as one that a little boy would have while pulling the wings off a particularly rare dragonfly. Somehow, it irritated her on one level but excited her on another.
She swatted the tap away from him softly, but he let go, he had been expecting it. She held it up to her ear and it began to hum silkily. She involuntarily moved closer to the fire as she shivered, and the humming became louder. Quickly she moved right upto the fire, and the song of the tap filled the room.
"My face well-hidden from the light
I hold my name all out of sight
But within me I have fire! Fire!
Shooting through pools of mad desire.
Youth and maiden, golds and reds
Drown yourselves in velvet beds
If you would true sensation know
Come, come, here is my molten flow..."
"I think it's talking to both of us this time," he observed. Ginny yelped and jumped back; so absorbed had she been in the song that she had almost walked into the fire and the smell of cheap scorched cloth told her that her robes had suffered for it. He was smiling cruelly. "You're the one it's had the strangest effect so far."
"What?" "You know," he said lazily, drawing a hand through his soft hair. "All the other girls just let me pounce on them." Ginny had the horrible hot feeling that meant she was blushing to the roots of her hair. She was vaguely aware that her mouth had fallen open. He was now leering at her suggestively, playing with his wand. She dragged her jaw back up and attempted a stiff manner that even she wasn't fooled by. "I don't want to know, Malfoy."
He cocked his head to one side and regarded her thoughtfully. "But I do want to know, little one. Who opened the Chamber of Secrets?" She went for a compromise. "You-know-who." "Mm, I know that. But whose body did he use?" "Someone's." Now that was not a clever answer. "You're a real fount of information, not to mention intelligence." He was shaking his head at her as if she were the class dunce and had just let him, the teacher, down. "What was the name of the 'someone'?"
"No, Malfoy, there's no way I'm telling." He came very close to her, and again her head tipped back so she could glare at him. He was frowning slightly, as if she were an academic problem that he was finding difficult. "Why you?" "I told you, I was the only one wandering around." "Who took you in there?" "You-know-who." "Whose body was it he occupied?" "Gilderoy Lockhart's." "I see." He regarded her again. "Well, I see that you're not biting, Ginevra. No-one would have chosen that bumbling idiot."
"So what was it like down there?" Ah, change of tack. "Really, I don't remember, I was out most of the time." He raised both eyebrows. "Ginevra," he bent down so that his robes brushed hers and his eyes were about a handspan away. "A song in exchange for the truth," he whispered. "You got the song, now give me the truth." "Are you calling me a liar?" she squeaked (it wasn't meant to come out as a squeak).
He began to snigger. "Ah, brave but not well-endowed up here, Ginevra." He tapped his forehead. "One hopes that you make up for it" his eyes flicked over her small form and the freshly scorched robes "elsewhere." That was it. She had now been officially insulted and could attack. The hidden creature inside her stood up on its hind legs and keened.
She barrelled into him as hard as she could, almost knocking him ever. The next few minutes passed in a blur of tangled robes, flying red hair, and pale skin that she tried hard to bite, snapping at him and clawing him ferociously. He swore fluidly as he got out of the way of her teeth and nails, surprisingly retaining enough self-control to keep from hexing her.
Finally he wrestled her into the ground, twisting her arms behind her, one knee in the small of her back, his full weight on her legs. She was panting hard, her robes had ripped, her hair flowed over her face as she panted, getting in her mouth. She relaxed and began to gather her strength for another attack.
He was breathing hard too. He released the pressure on her fractionally and she took full advantage, thrashing wildly to get away from him, twisting her neck nearly out of joint and she tried to reach some skin she could bite. He grabbed her hair and ground the knee into the small of her back. Some part of her was finding this tactile confrontation very satisfying, not sexually, simply physically. Was it that long since she had tried to beat Ron up? she wondered as she lay with one cheek pressed painfully against the floor now at eye-level.
"It was the song, wasn't it? It's addled your mind. So you did want me to pounce on you after all, Ginevra. Funny, you don't look like you have a fetish for violent handling." She could hear him reaching for his wand. She kicked out but didn't manage to get her leg free. The wand prodded the back of her neck. "Petrificus cervicem" he said, panting. She was frozen from the neck down.
He got off her, brushing down his robes. She tried to thrash, but the only thing she could move was her head; she craned over her shoulder and saw him drawing up a large armchair in mid-air. As soon as it appeared he dragged her off the ground and onto his lap. Her robes fell off. She tried biting him but he caught hold of her hair very near her head and yanked hard enough for tears to come into her eyes. He stared at her for a long moment, his eyes cold and assessing. Then he nodded to himself, and smiled that charming smile. "Don't cry, Ginevra darling. Remember, you asked for this. That should be some comfort."
He began to hum softly, pointing at her uniform with his wand. "My face well- hidden from the light / I hold my name all out of sight." The buttons of the grey school waistcoat opened halfway, the tie unknotted itself and slid off her neck. "But within me I have fire! Fire! (he hissed this last word) / Shooting through pools of mad desire." The starched white shirt beneath began to open as he looked closely at his handiwork. Ginny couldn't scream, the spell made sure of that.
Youth and maiden, golds and reds/Drown yourselves in velvet beds He carried on singing softly, yanking her head back to expose her throat. He sucked hard on her neck, his teeth not finding enough purchase on the meagre flesh for a deep bite. His other hand wrapped around the back of her neck, pulling on the small hairs. Guilt flowered in her as the lovebite progressed and she didn't stop enjoying it.
"If you would true sensation know/ Come, come, here is my molten flow.." He parted the shirt with his wand, gazing almost tenderly down on the small curves of her breasts. In a swift motion he bent his head and bit her hard on her left breast. Merlin, the pain! It shot through her as she screamed silently, squeezing her eyes shut, tears leaking through the corners.
He smiled and whispered "amicio".
He let her down on the floor and waved his wand, the chair vanished. He pointed at her and mouthed "transitor". He leaned down and looked dispassionately at her. ""You can leave in the next ten minutes, Ginevra. Let this be our secret, little one." He was gone, leaving the door ajar.
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'amicio' (Latin): to clothe , wrap round, wrap up, cover, conceal
