Disclaimer: I own nothing. So don't sue me.
A/N: Woohoo! People like my story! Eeee! My eternal thanks to everyone who has reviewed it, and I would thank you all personally, but I'm too lazy. You all know who you are, though, and I love you! It's true!
Oh, oh! There is one thing that I must point out, or explain, or whatever. In regards to a review I received from Nichole Malfoy: you are absolutely right. Tres bien should be very good, not very well. I would change it, but again, I'm too lazy. It's sort of the same thing, though.
Anyway. On to the story...
"Virginia. Fancy meeting you here," Draco said, laughing softly as she trembled at the sound of his voice.
"I should kill you," Ginny replied, setting her bags on the floor of the lift and folding her arms across her chest.
He reached out his hand, one finger hovering over the 'stop' button on the panel.
"Virginia, please. You would be dead before you laid a hand on me. But do you really think it wise to be making threats? You are, after all, pretty much at my mercy."
"Oh? And how is that?"
"I have your wand. I have your money. And at the moment, you are stuck in an elevator with me. I could kill you now, if I felt like it."
"So do it," Ginny said, her voice steady, her warm eyes daring him.
He watched her for a moment, surprised by the conviction in her words. Her voice had been steady, clear – not a hint of a tremble. She was confident that he wouldn't kill her, and she was right.
The lift reached the third floor, and the doors slid open. She picked up her bags, slender fingers grasping the handles tightly, and left the small compartment.
"Wench," he hissed after her, stepping out himself.
She glanced back at him, a smirk curling her lips. Flipping her hair over her shoulder, she walked down the hallway to her room. He stared at her retreating back, dreadfully wanting to pull out his wand and hex her.
She looked back once more, chocolate eyes glittering with amusement that he could see from his position at the opposite end of the hall. She smiled, an expression he could only classify as seductive, and disappeared into her room.
Repressing the urge to blow up the entire building, Draco sauntered down the hall with forced calm. He stopped momentarily in front of her door, and listened.
Ginny got into her room, and dropped her bags and herself onto the bed. She started to laugh, quite pleased with herself, and lay there for some time, relieving her stress with laughter.
He berated himself for listening, as he heard her intoxicating laughter through the door. Again repressing the urge to blow up the building, he left her door and made his way swiftly to his own room.
Draco slammed the wooden door of his room behind him, and sat on the edge of the bed. He sat for a moment, thinking, before he got up and went to the desk where he had placed her bag and wand. He hadn't looked through her possessions earlier, but had followed her from the hotel.
He thought back over the past hour, as he followed her through the streets. When she had disappeared into that boutique, he had settled down at the café across the street, and watched the entrance of the store. When she had emerged, bearing two bags adorned with the shop's logo, he had followed her back to the hotel.
It had been a fairly uneventful hour, except for the fact that he had been forced to fight the urge to grab the girl and rape her in an alley. She was just so... alluring.
But now he had time to see what the youngest Weasley had brought with her on vacation to Paris. He had a feeling it would be an educational experience.
Ginny sighed, back in her room. She was ravenous, the events of the evening having stirred her appetite. She sat up from her prone position, and reached to the drawer of the nightstand on the left side of the bed. Pulling open the small compartment, she removed the binder that was dubbed "hotel services" by the silver lettering on its front, and flipped the information book open to the restaurant menu.
The hotel restaurant didn't appear to be the best place to eat, if she was in the mood for traditional French food. Though the menu was varied, it contained nothing of what she was looking for.
Sighing again, she pulled the phone book from the drawer, and turned the pages in search of a restaurant guide. Apparently they didn't have those in French phone books.
While Ginny was looking for somewhere to eat dinner, Draco was sifting through her underwear – quite literally. His pale fingers drifted through her bag, pulling out the occasional item here and there, looking at it, before tossing it unceremoniously back in the duffel.
A particular item that caught his eye was her nightgown – all black satin and lace, and no doubt barely long enough to cover that oh-so gorgeous looking ass of hers.
He looked at it for a short moment more, before returning it to her bag. When at last he had gone through the main compartment quite thoroughly, he moved on to the side pockets. He pulled the small money purse from the end pocket, and opened it up.
Apparently, Weasley had gotten a good rate on exchanging her winnings from the Daily Prophet writing contest, Draco thought, judging by the large sum of money tucked neatly into the pouch.
She decided that the best way to find somewhere good for dinner would be to ask at the front desk, so Ginny picked up the telephone and called down to the front desk.
The receptionist answered, and Ginny explained her 'predicament' concerning choosing somewhere for dinner. Thankfully, Ginny noted, the woman spoke English.
"You want somewhere nice to eat dinner, that has classic French cuisine?"
"Yes, please, if you have any recommendations."
The receptionist rattled off a few names, and Ginny asked her opinion on all three. After about ten minutes of discussion, during which the receptionist outlined the good points and the bad of each restaurant, Ginny thanked her profusely, and hung up.
She decided the high-class restaurant, as it seemed the most classic French. She found the name in the phone book, and called to make a reservation; it was the height of tourist season, and she didn't want to have to wait for a table.
It was the perfect opportunity to wear her new dress, Ginny thought, as she changed into the slinky garment. That, of course, and the fact that she had none of her other clothes to change into.
As that thought crossed her mind, Ginny remembered her money – most of which was in a pouch in her duffel. And she knew that what was in the small satchel still strapped to her thigh would not be enough to buy dinner.
"Shit," she muttered, as she was looking at herself in the mirror, pleased with the final result of an hour of preparation.
She sat on the edge of her bed, and pondered her dilemma. There was only one solution: she would have to get her things back.
Heaving a resigned sigh, Ginny left her room quickly, trying to formulate a plan for the recovery of her stolen belongings. Nothing in particular came to mind, other than shagging him in exchange for her duffel and wand. She shuddered at the thought.
He had long ago replaced her money in the duffel, not bothering to steal it, as much fun as seeing Weasley begging for her money would be. He was lounging on his bed, flipping boredly through a Quidditch magazine, when a knock came on his door.
She reached his door, checked the number with that stored in her memory, and knocked, her heart pounding with dread and disgust.
"Who is it?" He called, though he had a pretty good idea of who was standing on the other side of the barrier.
"Open up this fucking door, Malfoy, or I'll kick it down myself," Ginny yelled, thankful that most of the hotel's patrons were out to dinner, for no heads peeked curiously out of doors.
He smirked, and got up from the bed. He sauntered over to the door, and opened it as far as the safety chain would allow.
"Can I help you, Virginia?" Draco asked smoothly, removing the chain and opening the door farther.
"You can give me back my things, is what you can do," Ginny retorted, folding her arms across her chest. She would kick the ass in the nuts, and then beat him to a pulp, but she was afraid it would ruin her shoes and she really didn't want to break another nail.
His gaze swept lazily and obviously over her attire, taking in the silk dress that clung provocatively to her curves. It was perfectly revealing, he decided, as the blue silk was cut in exactly the right places for her willowy frame – it revealed just enough to have eyes drawn to it, and just little enough to keep people wondering how much more there was too see. She looked like a mystery, all wrapped up for the solving.
Draco licked his lips suggestively, as his gaze fell to her legs that were completely bare but for the occasional strip of artfully torn silk here and there.
She smirked, and shifted her weight slightly so that the silk swirled for a moment before settling in an entirely different pattern over her body. One thigh was now almost completely bare, a small patch of fabric just covering the space over her underwear.
He gulped.
"Malfoy. My money. Now," Ginny said, having had quite enough of the filthy scum ogling her.
"Let me think about that for a moment... No." Draco replied, regaining his composure.
"You little fucker. I need my money. You can keep all the other shit for now, but I'm going out to dinner and I need my money. Now hand it over," she spat, placing a hand on her exposed hip and shifting again, to reveal yet another pattern to the dress.
He laughed, the same mocking sound that sent chills up her spine.
"Virginia, gorgeous, I will give you your money when I am good and ready to return it. And at the moment, I'm quite happy to keep it."
"What did you just say?" Ginny asked, raising a brow in disbelief.
"I said that I will return your money when I am good and ready to. And at the moment, I don't feel like returning it," Draco replied, speaking slowly as if she didn't understand English.
"Before that."
"Virginia."
"After that."
"Gorgeous."
"Give me my money."
"No."
"Listen, Malfoy, I would beat you to a pulp right now, but I'm going to be late for my dinner reservation, and I really don't want to get your filthy blood on this dress. So I suggest you give me my money before I get really angry."
"Dinner reservations?"
"Dinner reservations."
"Meeting someone?"
"No, not that it's any of your business."
"Why, may I ask, did you make dinner reservations to have dinner alone?"
"Because I don't feel like having to wait for two hours to get a table."
"I doubt that you would have to wait two hours. The only place that could possibly have a wait that long would be a high-class restaurant. And you certainly cannot afford that."
"At the moment, I can't. But as soon as you hand over my money, I'll be able to afford it, and anything else that might catch my fancy."
"I thought we've already touched on this subject; you aren't getting your money."
"You know what, fine. What do I have to do to get my money?" Ginny was nearly desperate now – she had about ten minutes to get to the restaurant if se wanted to make her reservation.
He sighed in exasperation.
"You really are irritating, you know that?"
"I would irritate you no more tonight if you would just give me my money."
He closed the door in her face.
"Open. The. Fucking. Door. Now. Malfoy," Ginny said, pounding her fist on the door with each word.
A few moments later, just as Ginny was about to risk breaking her shoe and kick the door, the barrier opened, and Draco stepped out of his room, a satisfied smirk on his pale face.
He closed the door behind him, and leaned against it, looking her up and down once more. He couldn't help it; the dress she was wearing was more eye-catching than anything he'd ever seen.
She, in turn, looked him up and down, though her appraising glance was better hidden. He had changed his clothes from casual trousers and a loose shirt to a pair of black dress pants, black dress shirt, and silver tie. He looked as though he intended to go to a fancy restaurant for dinner.
Realization dawned on her features, and Ginny shook her head, tousling her artfully teased auburn tresses.
"No way, uh-uh, not a chance."
He smirked and turned away from her, and swaggered down the hall as though he owned the world. Which, she reasoned, as far as she was concerned at the moment, he did. Her world, at least.
When he didn't hear her following, he turned to see her still glaring daggers at the door to his hotel room.
"Virginia, I'm not in there any more. And if you wish to make your dinner reservation, I suggest you hurry."
She turned and, with a resigned pace, walked slowly to where he stood waiting.
"I'm going to kill you, so help me god," she said, her voice shaking with fury.
"As I made clear this afternoon: you would be dead before you laid a hand on me," Draco replied, 'accidentally' letting his wand fall from a hidden pocket in the sleeve of his shirt.
It fell to the floor, the sound muffled by the carpet, and as Ginny picked it up, a pair of slender, manicured fingers encircled her wrist.
A/N: Longish chapter. I think. It's longer than the other ones, at any rate. And it's not a very good place to stop, but I feel I've rambled enough for one chapter, I think.
Thanks again for all the reviews!
A/N: Woohoo! People like my story! Eeee! My eternal thanks to everyone who has reviewed it, and I would thank you all personally, but I'm too lazy. You all know who you are, though, and I love you! It's true!
Oh, oh! There is one thing that I must point out, or explain, or whatever. In regards to a review I received from Nichole Malfoy: you are absolutely right. Tres bien should be very good, not very well. I would change it, but again, I'm too lazy. It's sort of the same thing, though.
Anyway. On to the story...
"Virginia. Fancy meeting you here," Draco said, laughing softly as she trembled at the sound of his voice.
"I should kill you," Ginny replied, setting her bags on the floor of the lift and folding her arms across her chest.
He reached out his hand, one finger hovering over the 'stop' button on the panel.
"Virginia, please. You would be dead before you laid a hand on me. But do you really think it wise to be making threats? You are, after all, pretty much at my mercy."
"Oh? And how is that?"
"I have your wand. I have your money. And at the moment, you are stuck in an elevator with me. I could kill you now, if I felt like it."
"So do it," Ginny said, her voice steady, her warm eyes daring him.
He watched her for a moment, surprised by the conviction in her words. Her voice had been steady, clear – not a hint of a tremble. She was confident that he wouldn't kill her, and she was right.
The lift reached the third floor, and the doors slid open. She picked up her bags, slender fingers grasping the handles tightly, and left the small compartment.
"Wench," he hissed after her, stepping out himself.
She glanced back at him, a smirk curling her lips. Flipping her hair over her shoulder, she walked down the hallway to her room. He stared at her retreating back, dreadfully wanting to pull out his wand and hex her.
She looked back once more, chocolate eyes glittering with amusement that he could see from his position at the opposite end of the hall. She smiled, an expression he could only classify as seductive, and disappeared into her room.
Repressing the urge to blow up the entire building, Draco sauntered down the hall with forced calm. He stopped momentarily in front of her door, and listened.
Ginny got into her room, and dropped her bags and herself onto the bed. She started to laugh, quite pleased with herself, and lay there for some time, relieving her stress with laughter.
He berated himself for listening, as he heard her intoxicating laughter through the door. Again repressing the urge to blow up the building, he left her door and made his way swiftly to his own room.
Draco slammed the wooden door of his room behind him, and sat on the edge of the bed. He sat for a moment, thinking, before he got up and went to the desk where he had placed her bag and wand. He hadn't looked through her possessions earlier, but had followed her from the hotel.
He thought back over the past hour, as he followed her through the streets. When she had disappeared into that boutique, he had settled down at the café across the street, and watched the entrance of the store. When she had emerged, bearing two bags adorned with the shop's logo, he had followed her back to the hotel.
It had been a fairly uneventful hour, except for the fact that he had been forced to fight the urge to grab the girl and rape her in an alley. She was just so... alluring.
But now he had time to see what the youngest Weasley had brought with her on vacation to Paris. He had a feeling it would be an educational experience.
Ginny sighed, back in her room. She was ravenous, the events of the evening having stirred her appetite. She sat up from her prone position, and reached to the drawer of the nightstand on the left side of the bed. Pulling open the small compartment, she removed the binder that was dubbed "hotel services" by the silver lettering on its front, and flipped the information book open to the restaurant menu.
The hotel restaurant didn't appear to be the best place to eat, if she was in the mood for traditional French food. Though the menu was varied, it contained nothing of what she was looking for.
Sighing again, she pulled the phone book from the drawer, and turned the pages in search of a restaurant guide. Apparently they didn't have those in French phone books.
While Ginny was looking for somewhere to eat dinner, Draco was sifting through her underwear – quite literally. His pale fingers drifted through her bag, pulling out the occasional item here and there, looking at it, before tossing it unceremoniously back in the duffel.
A particular item that caught his eye was her nightgown – all black satin and lace, and no doubt barely long enough to cover that oh-so gorgeous looking ass of hers.
He looked at it for a short moment more, before returning it to her bag. When at last he had gone through the main compartment quite thoroughly, he moved on to the side pockets. He pulled the small money purse from the end pocket, and opened it up.
Apparently, Weasley had gotten a good rate on exchanging her winnings from the Daily Prophet writing contest, Draco thought, judging by the large sum of money tucked neatly into the pouch.
She decided that the best way to find somewhere good for dinner would be to ask at the front desk, so Ginny picked up the telephone and called down to the front desk.
The receptionist answered, and Ginny explained her 'predicament' concerning choosing somewhere for dinner. Thankfully, Ginny noted, the woman spoke English.
"You want somewhere nice to eat dinner, that has classic French cuisine?"
"Yes, please, if you have any recommendations."
The receptionist rattled off a few names, and Ginny asked her opinion on all three. After about ten minutes of discussion, during which the receptionist outlined the good points and the bad of each restaurant, Ginny thanked her profusely, and hung up.
She decided the high-class restaurant, as it seemed the most classic French. She found the name in the phone book, and called to make a reservation; it was the height of tourist season, and she didn't want to have to wait for a table.
It was the perfect opportunity to wear her new dress, Ginny thought, as she changed into the slinky garment. That, of course, and the fact that she had none of her other clothes to change into.
As that thought crossed her mind, Ginny remembered her money – most of which was in a pouch in her duffel. And she knew that what was in the small satchel still strapped to her thigh would not be enough to buy dinner.
"Shit," she muttered, as she was looking at herself in the mirror, pleased with the final result of an hour of preparation.
She sat on the edge of her bed, and pondered her dilemma. There was only one solution: she would have to get her things back.
Heaving a resigned sigh, Ginny left her room quickly, trying to formulate a plan for the recovery of her stolen belongings. Nothing in particular came to mind, other than shagging him in exchange for her duffel and wand. She shuddered at the thought.
He had long ago replaced her money in the duffel, not bothering to steal it, as much fun as seeing Weasley begging for her money would be. He was lounging on his bed, flipping boredly through a Quidditch magazine, when a knock came on his door.
She reached his door, checked the number with that stored in her memory, and knocked, her heart pounding with dread and disgust.
"Who is it?" He called, though he had a pretty good idea of who was standing on the other side of the barrier.
"Open up this fucking door, Malfoy, or I'll kick it down myself," Ginny yelled, thankful that most of the hotel's patrons were out to dinner, for no heads peeked curiously out of doors.
He smirked, and got up from the bed. He sauntered over to the door, and opened it as far as the safety chain would allow.
"Can I help you, Virginia?" Draco asked smoothly, removing the chain and opening the door farther.
"You can give me back my things, is what you can do," Ginny retorted, folding her arms across her chest. She would kick the ass in the nuts, and then beat him to a pulp, but she was afraid it would ruin her shoes and she really didn't want to break another nail.
His gaze swept lazily and obviously over her attire, taking in the silk dress that clung provocatively to her curves. It was perfectly revealing, he decided, as the blue silk was cut in exactly the right places for her willowy frame – it revealed just enough to have eyes drawn to it, and just little enough to keep people wondering how much more there was too see. She looked like a mystery, all wrapped up for the solving.
Draco licked his lips suggestively, as his gaze fell to her legs that were completely bare but for the occasional strip of artfully torn silk here and there.
She smirked, and shifted her weight slightly so that the silk swirled for a moment before settling in an entirely different pattern over her body. One thigh was now almost completely bare, a small patch of fabric just covering the space over her underwear.
He gulped.
"Malfoy. My money. Now," Ginny said, having had quite enough of the filthy scum ogling her.
"Let me think about that for a moment... No." Draco replied, regaining his composure.
"You little fucker. I need my money. You can keep all the other shit for now, but I'm going out to dinner and I need my money. Now hand it over," she spat, placing a hand on her exposed hip and shifting again, to reveal yet another pattern to the dress.
He laughed, the same mocking sound that sent chills up her spine.
"Virginia, gorgeous, I will give you your money when I am good and ready to return it. And at the moment, I'm quite happy to keep it."
"What did you just say?" Ginny asked, raising a brow in disbelief.
"I said that I will return your money when I am good and ready to. And at the moment, I don't feel like returning it," Draco replied, speaking slowly as if she didn't understand English.
"Before that."
"Virginia."
"After that."
"Gorgeous."
"Give me my money."
"No."
"Listen, Malfoy, I would beat you to a pulp right now, but I'm going to be late for my dinner reservation, and I really don't want to get your filthy blood on this dress. So I suggest you give me my money before I get really angry."
"Dinner reservations?"
"Dinner reservations."
"Meeting someone?"
"No, not that it's any of your business."
"Why, may I ask, did you make dinner reservations to have dinner alone?"
"Because I don't feel like having to wait for two hours to get a table."
"I doubt that you would have to wait two hours. The only place that could possibly have a wait that long would be a high-class restaurant. And you certainly cannot afford that."
"At the moment, I can't. But as soon as you hand over my money, I'll be able to afford it, and anything else that might catch my fancy."
"I thought we've already touched on this subject; you aren't getting your money."
"You know what, fine. What do I have to do to get my money?" Ginny was nearly desperate now – she had about ten minutes to get to the restaurant if se wanted to make her reservation.
He sighed in exasperation.
"You really are irritating, you know that?"
"I would irritate you no more tonight if you would just give me my money."
He closed the door in her face.
"Open. The. Fucking. Door. Now. Malfoy," Ginny said, pounding her fist on the door with each word.
A few moments later, just as Ginny was about to risk breaking her shoe and kick the door, the barrier opened, and Draco stepped out of his room, a satisfied smirk on his pale face.
He closed the door behind him, and leaned against it, looking her up and down once more. He couldn't help it; the dress she was wearing was more eye-catching than anything he'd ever seen.
She, in turn, looked him up and down, though her appraising glance was better hidden. He had changed his clothes from casual trousers and a loose shirt to a pair of black dress pants, black dress shirt, and silver tie. He looked as though he intended to go to a fancy restaurant for dinner.
Realization dawned on her features, and Ginny shook her head, tousling her artfully teased auburn tresses.
"No way, uh-uh, not a chance."
He smirked and turned away from her, and swaggered down the hall as though he owned the world. Which, she reasoned, as far as she was concerned at the moment, he did. Her world, at least.
When he didn't hear her following, he turned to see her still glaring daggers at the door to his hotel room.
"Virginia, I'm not in there any more. And if you wish to make your dinner reservation, I suggest you hurry."
She turned and, with a resigned pace, walked slowly to where he stood waiting.
"I'm going to kill you, so help me god," she said, her voice shaking with fury.
"As I made clear this afternoon: you would be dead before you laid a hand on me," Draco replied, 'accidentally' letting his wand fall from a hidden pocket in the sleeve of his shirt.
It fell to the floor, the sound muffled by the carpet, and as Ginny picked it up, a pair of slender, manicured fingers encircled her wrist.
A/N: Longish chapter. I think. It's longer than the other ones, at any rate. And it's not a very good place to stop, but I feel I've rambled enough for one chapter, I think.
Thanks again for all the reviews!