The Weasel, the Ferret, and the Really Bad Obsession

Ten minutes passed, during which a chilling draught swept in through the broken window and put the fire out. The only light came through the door swinging, swinging.. a dim torch fluttered in the unknown corridor outside.

As soon as the paralysis wore off, Ginny Weasley got to her feet. Luckily George had taught her a spell to locate the 'safest' route to Gryffindor tower from any point in Hogwarts, he and Fred had perfected it by incessant use. She turned up in her dorm to find a half-worried, half-scolding note from Ron and Hermione.

The same thoughts chased through her mind in an incessant circle, bringing to mind the snake with its tail in its mouth, imprinted on the letter that had brought her to this state (the usually hysterical Ginny inside her had decided to go melodramatic). She had been assaulted. So, should she go and tell someone, since she was a girl who would never let a guy walk over her like this? Hell yes.

What was the next step? Right, catalogue of injuries. She had slipped into the nearest bathroom and had a good look in a mirror, expecting to see large yellow-purple bruises on the milky skin that went with the Weasley red hair. It was far worse than she had expected.

Her skin was completely unmarked. HOW?

She looked down at her breast. There was a round red mark on it, still throbbing. She looked back at the mirror. Said breast was there, but completely unsullied. So there was no evidence that anyone else could see...Ginny, not being as badly-endowed in the brain region as Malfoy had insinuated, figured out quickly that she had better do some serious research on "amicio" in the library.

What worried her far more, though, was that she had enjoyed most of their physical encounter. She had relished the fight, hadn't realised how much she missed physical tussling. She had been indecently excited while Malfoy was slow-stripping her, and had felt a betraying 'twang' in the muscles between her legs when his lips touched her.

Except for the bite, and even the pain...she could get used to that level of pain, no problem..."BAD Ginny!" she shouted mentally, smacking her head hard with the flat of her hand. "Bad, disgusting, filthy Ginny!" She tried rolling over to get the disturbing and suspiciously enjoyable mental image of Malfoy biting her all over and exciting her until her hair stood on end. No luck, poor Ginny. The image stayed.

That night Ginny had cramps (after-effects of the Petrificus), sneezing fits (from ten minutes on the cold floor), and highly colourful dreams (of Malfoy in nothing but black leather gloves running his fingers up her thighs). And no sleep to speak of.

The next day in the library she feebly attempted work on her growing pile of unfinished homework after much nagging by the anally retentive Ginny, who was panicking at the thought of being shunted so much to one side. The hysterical Ginny only wanted to know what "amicio" meant, and the dark hidden one had gone quiet, probably having had so much exercise in the last day. Blearily the Ginny in control dragged the lot of them to the library.

"Amicio is a powerful spell, veering towards Dark Magic. It is not a simple hex or curse. It is designed to conceal the physical effects of the spell from all but the victim. The psychical effects are to haunt the victim with vivid sensory images of the caster and to make them more suggestible and vulnerable to the one in control. The spell cannot be lifted before three full moon cycles."

Yum. Vivid sensory overload on Malfoy and her probably following him around like a lap-dog for three months? NOT! Oh crap. She would have to tell someone.

"It's not a medical spell," said Flitwick after Charms when she had stayed behind. "Are you the victim?" Ginny shook her head for no, and legged it. "Miss Weasley, do not bother me again with your lack of research," Snape had said, glaring at her over a pile of graded essays with large red "F"s all over them. "The potions I have are too potent to deal with it. They would probably turn you into a ginger grease-stain on the floor, though come to think of it, it would mean one less stupid student.." And Ginny had fled, not out of fear of Snape but of showing her secret excitement that it would be three full months before it would wear off.

She walked morosely back to Gryffindor Tower after supper that night, having convinced herself that she was not enjoying it one bit and vowing to stay from Malfoy for the next three months. And then she heard it.

"This way comes a maiden fair

Crowned with locks of flaming hair

She bears the twin marks of desire

Neck and breast branded with fire...

Listen to my soft refrain

Maiden, come touch me again

A gold youth lies in wait for thee

That you a maid no more may be..."

Without pausing she turned to follow the song. The silence in the corridor and in her head was absolute. She moved as if possessed, purposefully searching for the tap. She needed to touch it and hold it close to her. Malfoy had become just a minor detail.

The minor detail lounged on a large silver-green sofa in front of a roaring fire. As soon as she appeared in the doorway he held up the tap, his eyes never leaving the fire. The door closed as soon as she stepped over the threshold.

She looked at him for a long moment. Tonight he was wearing thick green Quidditch robes that drooped onto the ground, the large silver clasp having slid from his neck to one shoulder. His face was almost hidden by the fine, thick, flyaway blond hair. The hand that held the tap up wore Quidditch gauntlets in - you guessed it - black leather.

He never looked at her. So she was startled when he said in his usual soft voice "If you want to hold it you have to come closer." She took a couple of steps forward. "Closer, closer." Some unwilling part of her (probably the third, everyday Ginny, who was the most honest) confessed that it was a game and that she was enjoying it. Another three steps forward. He patted the sofa in the middle, indicating that she should move there.

He lay occupying the entire length of the sofa with his head looking away from her. "You're hogging the entire sofa, Malfoy."

"An astute observation, Ginevra. Now come here." The last words were said in a soft, delicious drawl. She could hear the ripple of laughter in his voice.

Willingly, but pretending reluctance, she finally stood between him and the fire and plucked the tap out of his hand, holding it to her ear. It began to whisper to her and she sighed involuntarily. Malfoy was looking at her, well, at the spot where her robes parted to reveal the short school skirt.

He slipped his hand between her legs and began to stroke her inner thigh. She noticed. She pretended to be completely absorbed with the tap and closed her eyes. He noticed that she was pretending because her lips parted and she sighed softly, again. He kept stroking her and she made no move to draw away.

Some part of her mind realised that he could take her now and she wouldn't do a thing about it. But it shut down very soon, leaving behind a growing pleasure pooling between her thighs. The callused skin of his fingertips crept over one thigh, the gauntlet rubbing against the other every now and then. Then the pleasure stopped, very suddenly. The tap stopped whispering sweet nothings in her ear.

He looked at the naked "why?" on her face as her eyes opened. "The truth," he said softly. "You owe me the truth, maiden darling." Before she could run he gripped her tight and pulled her down onto the sofa, cradling her with one arm while laying a long leg across hers. He shoved her underneath him ungracefully, his cloak nearing strangling him before he swore and reached up to release the silver clasp.

"As a good Gryffindor, you should keep your promises, Ginevra. The truth about your first-year adventures, sweetheart. When the thrill of my presence has worn off a little, of course." He smiled at her.

"Why did you bite me?"

"So you would be my willing slave and come running whenever I asked you to. Now, who was the heir of Slytherin?"

"Mrs. Norris."

"Well, I'd have picked her over Harry Idiot Potter any day, she has more brains. Not the same linguistic ability, though. Was it he?"

The anally retentive part of her popped up to scold briefly for not defending Harry, but the rest of her suddenly began to feel very tired. Why not tell him?

"I'll tell you if you let me keep the tap, Malfoy."

To her surprise, he said that he was planning to give it to her anyway. "But I can't trust you, maiden fair. You've littered my path with broken promises." He made a sad face, she snorted and he unscrewed his pout. "Veritas," he whispered, having adroitly aimed his wand at her temple before she realised, and clamping down on her arms before she could struggle. "A little truth spell to check how close you are to the truth.."

Ginny relaxed, it was harmless. The air around her would glow green if she were lying, and rosier the closer she got to the truth, and blood-red when she let the cat out of the bag.

Then he bent forward and kissed her. She resisted bravely and even put up a little token struggle, though that stopped soon enough. Unfortunately she moaned aloud when he slid his tongue into her mouth, and clutched at his robes to pull him nearer. He broke the kiss.

"Who was the heir? Tell me, sweetheart."

"Professor Trelawney."

He snorted, began to caress the short hair at the nape of her neck, and removed one of his gauntlets, tugging with his teeth. He slipped a finger between her lips in an exploratory way and she arched her back to take it whole into her mouth, licking greedily. When he began to make small thrusting motions into her mouth, she became very wet between her legs and involuntarily parted them. It didn't escape his notice; he stopped and pulled away.

"Who was possessed? Give me a clue, mmm?"

"The Giant Squid."

"Definitely a better choice than that measly Weasel, you know, the misshapen one who eats as if he's never seen food outside Hogwarts."

She laughed softly. "Misshapen? I'd have thought you would be misshapen after being bounced around the Great Hall about twenty times. You know, when you were taking time out being such a *handsome* specimen of the Mustelidae."

His eyes glittered and he pulled sharply on her hair, so that she said "Ouch!" sharply. He yanked again, and her eyes filled with tears. "You bastard!" she spat at him, struggling again.

"That was for insinuating that I belonged, however briefly, to the same animal family as your freak of a brother, little one. Now are you going to tell me who stole off with you into that girl's bathroom?"

"Gladly, it was Moaning Myrtle," she answered angrily, red in the face from the exertion of twisting her hands out of his grip. He released her for a second before pinning her down more effectively than before. Then he proceeded to lull her into an almost somnolent state by kissing her with soft, little kisses, only on her lips, lingering ones that continued until he felt the strain leave her body.

He stopped before a different kind of tension could settle onto her. And before she could be irritated, he asked caressingly "It wasn't you, was it?"

The air flashed blood-red between them. He was so shocked that he let her go as she jumped up with a queer twisted face. Somehow the door was open and she was running away again, blindly, a stitch in her side, gasping for breath.

Ginny Weasley had completely missed a fine opportunity to snatch the singing tap from Draco Malfoy.

terra-incognito: thank you! You make me feel really special. I was so pleased that you mentioned this on your wonderful story.

Kayson: I hope you read chapter 9 and that your computer stops being evil. Thanks for reviewing!

Evil-Miyu: Um, yes, Ginny in the first chapters is based on the different voices in my head, definitely. And I so have my own personal dark creature as well, it's small, evil and likes popcorn a lot.

All you wanted to know about ferrets but were afraid to ask (compiled from the web):

According to the system of Binomial Nomenclature, the ferret and the weasel belong to the family Mustelidae, whose name is derived from the Latin word for musk. The domesticated ferret is given the Latin name Mustela Putorius Furritus. The word ferret comes from the Latin word furritus, which literally translates to "little fur thief". This name was chosen due to the fact that ferrets are expert hunters.

Rather like our Draco in this fic then :-)