A/N* I know it's taken me quite a while to spin out my other chapters, but with winter break and all I've had a chance to catch up on my writing, so here's chapter 8! I am, by the way, overwhelmed by all your responses and reviews, you have no idea at all. I started fanfiction in May, never thinking it would turn into anything, and I'm so grateful for all of you who have stuck with me through my writing, and I really wish I had the time to individually thank you. But don't think that because I'm not, I don't appreciate reviewers—really, without you, I wouldn't be writing. So yeah, Merry Christmas/Happy Holidays to all of you, and even if you don't celebrate Christmas, here's an especially D/Gfied chapter for you. I didn't think I'd be able to upload by Christmas Day, but XOXO to my speedy beta Priscilla. Love you all!
Chapter 8. Sine Qua Non
For the first time in his life, Draco Malfoy was holding the teapot.
It was not to say that he had never had tea before—the mere thought was ridiculous—but for all twenty-seven years of his life, he had never once been on the serving end. He didn't have any problems pouring tea, of course, as any bloody idiot like Crabbe could pour tea, he just found it disconcerting to be performing a task he had relied on servants for, and even more so because he was doing it for a Weasley.
She watched him with curious brown eyes, nestled in a thick swatch of green down comforter, and suppressed a smile as he gritted his teeth in annoyance. "A little trouble there?" Ginny asked sweetly.
Draco glared at her. "If I were you," he retorted. "I would just shut up before somebody pours scalding tea all over you."
"I'm not too scared," she disagreed cheekily. "After all, it's amazing you even know how to hold the thing."
He handed her a porcelein saucer triumphantly, and she took it with a gracious smile. "Anyways," Draco said, "You're lucky I'm even pouring you anything. Hell, you're lucky I'm letting you contaminate my sofa."
A few weeks ago, she would have taken a comment like that to heart, but hearing the lilt of tease in his voice she simply beamed at him, snuggled deeper into the blankets he had surprisingly provided her, and sipped the tea. He moved across the room to set down the teapot and she followed his easy elegance, admiring the smooth lines of his body and how his hair turned slightly gold when dampened. Stop staring! Ginny commanded herself as he turned suddenly, catching her admiring stare and grinning as she blushed deeply.
"You know," Draco said, languidly settling himself at the end of the sofa. "That was stupid of you, Weasley. You should have just gotten in the damn boat and stayed there. Instead you risked the health of myself and Sebastian." He smirked. "And, of course, yourself."
She turned her face away. "You don't have to remind me."
"Weasley," Draco said in a low voice.
Almost reluctantly, she met his unreadable silver gaze. "What?"
He hesitated visibly. "Nothing," he said after a moment's pause.
Ginny let out a sigh, and then brought the cup to her lips once more. "You're right, though," she admitted quietly. "It was incredibly insane of me. That water was so bloody cold. If anything happened to Sebastian, I don't know what I'd do."
"Hey," Draco said, surprisingly serious. "It was an accident."
Setting the tea down on a small table beside her, her eyes remained focused on something away from the blond, and he reached out to cup her chin. At his gentle touch she nearly jumped, but instead grew accustomed to the flutters in her stomach, aching for the tactile feeling of his soft hands.
"And anyhow," Draco continued, dropping his hand. "While he's perfectly fine and asleep, you're the one who looks like you're getting sick, so you'll be plenty sorry in time."
Feeling bereft at the loss of his touch, she could smile at him weakly. "Pitiful, isn't it?" Ginny chuckled. "I never knew my immune system was so horrid. One little dip in a lake and I'm here with. . .pneumonia or something."
"I highly doubt it's pneumonia," Draco said dryly. "And at any rate, pneumonia isn't fatal." He paused. "Unfortunately."
She offered him a crooked grin. "Oh but admit it, you'd miss me if I died, Draco Malfoy."
"I wouldn't be so sure," Draco smirked. "Though I will admit that it would be a pain in my arse to find another nanny that Sebastian likes."
Ginny laughed. It was a laugh that warmed Draco in a way he hadn't thought possible, and he couldn't do anything by grin back at her—one would have said he was grinning stupidly had he not been a Malfoy.
"Then again," Draco continued, "It would probably be best that such a young Malfoy not be around a Weasley too much, I mean, who knows, he might—" And then, still laughing, she shoved him, hard.
He reached out to block her hands but somehow ended up drawing her close, and instead, Ginny landed atop his chest in a tangle of cotton comforter and damp hair.
And they were suddenly in an extremely close proximity once more, her face growing solemn as she gazed down at him. His hands were on her elbows, the pads roughened and calloused as he unconsciously rubbed gentle circles into her skin. "You seem to be feeling better," Draco remarked after a pregnant pause, the only sensible words that came to his mind for the moment.
"I am," she replied softly, nervously.
"Does this mean that I won't have to pour you tea anymore?" Draco raised an eyebrow, trying his best not to be unnerved by her closeness.
"You don't have to do anything," Ginny said, involuntarily glancing down at his lips.
"Oh?"
"For instance," she went on, shocked at her own audacity as she lowered her body to rest her head against his shoulder, "You don't have to let me stay here. Like this."
His breath hitched as her lips grazed the thin material of his gray shirt. A part of him knew precisely how wrong it was, and how conspicuous their position was, and that part also knew how very torturous a death he would suffer if any of the Weasley brothers walked in. The heightened security of Malfoy Manor was really no consolation compared to that thought.
But there was another part of him, a part Draco had not seen surfaced before, that couldn't help noting how perfectly she fit into his arms, how the sweet scent of her damp hair tickled his nose, how right she felt lying atop him—though technically atop inches of comforter that was atop Draco. And in the final moments of his indecision, he had nearly been ready to push her away when she whispered in a voice husky with sleep, "Draco?"
How right his name sounded from her lips.
"Yes?" Draco said, quietly as if not to disturb her too much.
"Thank you."
"For?"
There came no answer from her, and when he craned his neck to look at her face he found with great wariness that she was fast asleep.
~*~
When Ginny awoke, it had darkened. Through the majestic windows, she could see the moon bright against the night sky, and she stretched out on the couch, yawning. The fire was still flickering, she discovered, and someone had rearranged her blankets to fit neatly below her chin.
Draco.
She turned to see him sprawled out on the massive loveseat across from her, obviously asleep. When he had fallen asleep she was not particularly sure, and as she watched him with a small smile upon her face she suddenly remembered sleeping atop him. Her face flamed at the memory, and she gingerly crept towards him.
His head was turned to the left, hair not yet mussed and chest heaving with every breath. Gently, Ginny seated herself beside him, roving her eyes over the unblemished porcelain skin and wondering how she had failed to notice him at Hogwarts. As she thought about the strange flicker in his piercing eyes as he had stared at her, and an overwhelming urge to touch his cheek washed over her and she lifted a hand to brush back the one errant strand of silver blond that had escaped its pomade grasp.
Draco started. "Go away," he mumbled.
Withdrawing her hand, Ginny bit her lip and watched as he fell back into deep slumber. "Draco," she whispered.
He made an odd sound at the back of his throat.
It was then she noticed that one of his shirt buttons had come undone, and in an inexplicable fit of maternal instincts she reached to refasten it. Her head bent close to his torso, she was almost finished with the large silver button when a tickle arose in the back of her nose. Loudly, she sneezed, and Draco jumped.
"Er," Ginny cleared her throat, pulling back quickly when he squeezed his eyes shut as if he had a headache.
Lazily, he opened one eye to see her blushing furiously beside him, and let a slow smirk weave itself into his face. "Well, well," he said. "You finally woke up."
Ginny frowned. "Speak for yourself, Malfoy."
He glanced at the elegant grandfather clock beside him. "It's been nearly five hours, you know."
With a sigh of resignation, Ginny smiled. "I should be getting home, shouldn't I?"
Draco cocked his head and gazed at her quizzically. "Or you could stay," he suggested calmly even as her own heart began racing. "I do owe you dinner."
"Surprised you remembered," Ginny responded wryly.
"Oh I never forget," Draco said. "But I do expect that you need to owl your, er, brother so that he doesn't think I've kidnapped you for the sole purpose of debauchery and shagging?"
"I probably should," Ginny agreed, her voice neutral to cover the blush threatening to overtake her face and climbing off the loveseat. Her eyes twinkled. "And then I'll go wake Sebastian. What are you asking the house elves to prepare tonight?"
"Who said I'm asking the house elves to prepare anything?" Draco retorted. "Goodness, Weasley, just because I'm filthy rich and devastatingly handsome doesn't mean I'm entirely incompetent."
"Oh no," Ginny shook her head. "Not entirely. You did, after all, pour tea."
"Right," Draco snickered, feeling surprisingly light in reminiscence of the events that had passed. "You're never going to let me forget that, are you?"
"You claim you never forget anyhow," Ginny said softly. "Shall Sebastian and I meet you in, say, the Eastern dining room at seven, then?"
"Let's say seven-thirty," Draco said. "Even a God couldn't prepare dinner in that short a time."
"Deal." With one last smile, she turned and strode toward the bedrooms.
~*~
7:35.
"Last dish," Draco muttered. With grace he set down the large porcelain platter on his grand oak dining table and stood back, surveying his work with immodest admiration. Since a child, Narcissa had reared him to be refined in the arts of culinary skills, insisting that it gave him an edge over other spoiled children, and insisting that it was with cooking skills that Lucius had stood out above the rest of her suitors. Not that I'm trying to court Ginny or anything, Draco reminded himself.
Ginny. The name rolled off his tongue so easily, too easily. He couldn't put his finger on it, but there was something about the way she looked at him with those wide eyes, something about the way she smiled when he smirked at her, something about the way a little note of both pure content and anxiety crept into her soft laugh. It was entirely too unnatural. And of course Draco couldn't pinpoint it, nor could it actually confront her with his observations, because a part of him insisted it was simply a figment of his imagination, his paranoia. Shaking his head again, Draco reached for one of the tall candles beside him. She was a Weasley, he was a Malfoy, and it scared him to think that he could be looking at her with anything other than disgust.
However, what scared him the most was not the fact that all this was actually occurring, it was more the fact that he couldn't altogether say he disliked it.
"Wow."
He turned to see her framed in the doorway, supple coral lips in a wide 'o' of surprise and face illuminated by the flickering candlelight. Her hair curled in gentle wisps around her face, and the look in her eyes was of surprised delight. Since their last meeting, Ginny had changed into yet another dress but in the dim light she was utterly feminine, utterly radiant, utterly beautiful.
Ginny stared at him speechlessly, moving her stunned gaze from the elegant foods to his wary silver eyes. The candle he had just lit glowed against his light complexion, softening his angles and shimmering his hair with an iridescent sparkle. And the corner of his lips lifted into that familiar smirk, only he couldn't quite manage it, and it came out more a gentle, questioning smile that simultaneously sent a shiver down her spine and melted the last nerves in her knees.
"Oh Draco," she whispered, before she could stop herself.
He simply gazed back at her, calmly, placidly, hoping she didn't notice his hand tremble as he set the candle down coolly. "You're late," was all he said.
Ginny blinked. "You weren't ready anyhow."
Taking a step forward, he looked down at her with an almost quizzical expression and in return, she offered a small smile. "No," he finally said. "I wasn't. But near it."
"Very near," she replied, breathless from his proximity.
"I just wanted things to be perfect," he went on, eyes dark. "I was taught to do everything perfect."
"It is," she near murmured. "It's more perfect than you could ever imagine."
A long stretch of quiet passed as they stood, limp, neither willing to tear their eyes away.
"Draco, I—"
"Father!" Sebastian appeared from behind Ginny, startling them both for the second time that day as he skidded into the room and glanced around with amazement. "But I thought you couldn't make food!"
Draco was the one to glance away, smiling at his son. "Now who told you that?"
"Mother," Sebastian replied absently, amber eyes still amazed.
Draco snorted. "It figures."
Sebastian simply beamed, a wide, happy smile that rendered him much like someone Draco couldn't exactly place. "Father," he asked in his quiet voice. "Does this mean you'll eat with me?"
Draco merely chuckled in return, but Ginny caught the fleeting glance of pleasant surprise that flickered in his normally impassive eyes. "Yes, son," he answered; it was the first time she had heard him address him that way yet.
"Draco," Ginny said softly, placing a hand on his arm. "Let's eat, shall we?"
"Yeah," Sebastian chimed. "I'm starving."
His eyes still twinkling, Draco pulled out one of the exquisite polished chairs for Ginny. "I'm honored," Ginny laughed. "Not only am I allowed to eat at the real table, but a Malfoy has just been—what is it, chivalrous?"
"And towards you, no less," Draco agreed congenially, much to her startlement. "Don't worry, I'm writhing inside. But I have to set a good example for the little Malfoy, you know."
The pride in his voice as he mentioned Sebastian didn't go undetected by Ginny, and set off a strange palpitating in her chest.
"Harriet," he called, and a small house elf scurried in.
"You can cook, but you won't serve," Ginny observed wryly.
"House elves are here to serve." He cocked his head at her with a smug half-smile. "And she's aptly named Harriet, too," he said. "Harry-it."
In response, Ginny shook her head but couldn't suppress the grin from her face. "You're a sick, sick man, has anyone ever told you that, Draco Malfoy?"
"Oh sure," Draco replied. "Your brother, time and again." He paused. "And of course, Harry Potter. And that—" he made a face here "—little mudblood, Granger."
She was about to chastise him for calling Hermione a mudblood when he added, "But somehow it sounded different coming from you."
What the hell was that supposed to mean?
She chose not to mull over it, instead nodded graciously as the house-elf ladled steaming soup into her plate.
"So," Ginny said after a few moments of peaceful silence as they ate. "What are Sebastian's plans for tomorrow?"
"Actually," Draco raised an eyebrow. "Sebastian won't be here tomorrow."
"Not here?" A note of panic rose in her voice.
"I get to go to Grandmum's for a week," Sebastian supplied.
"Oh," Ginny said, trying to hide her disappointment. "I suppose that means I don't need to be here for a week, then?"
Draco studied her. "I suppose that does."
She smiled, weakly. "Was this all decided while I was away?"
"While your brother had you locked in," Draco confirmed with great amusement.
"I'm almost disappointed," Ginny said, only half joking. "I was gone for a week, and when I come back I find out I'll be gone for another week."
"You'll miss me much, won't you?" Sebastian asked.
"Very much," she agreed. And met Draco's eyes.
He was chewing, with a rather thoughtful look in his eyes. "Won't be the same without you. You'll have plenty of spare time on your hands, I imagine."
"Actually," Ginny said, feeling oddly foolish, "I work part time at the Ministry."
Draco raised in eyebrow in genuine surprise. "I didn't know they allowed Aurors to work part time."
"They don't," Ginny paused. "I work as a librarian."
Draco coughed loudly, doing quite a lousy job covering his snort of laughter.
She glared at him. "I happen to like being around their books, you know," she said. "And anyhow, I'm surprised you even know about the rules of Aurors."
He blinked, raising startled eyes to meet hers, and she immediately wished she hadn't spoken. Hurt briefly flickered across his features, so brief she could have imagined it, and was quickly replaced by a snarl. "Oh yes," he agreed in a deeply sarcastic voice. "Since I'm such a death eater."
She could not meet his gaze as he said this, and glanced at Sebastian instead. "I didn't—I hadn't meant—I—"
"I'm sure," was all he said, but all warmth had disappeared from his voice.
There was no need to look in a mirror for Ginny to tell that she was blushing ferociously. "Sorry," she mumbled. "Guess I'm just so used to the whole Hogwarts thing, the same old barbs." She glanced up, looking wholly miserable.
Draco took another bite, face unreadable. "Was I that horrid?"
"And why are you so quick to assume that you've changed?" She teased.
He glared at her, and she fell silent. Obviously, she thought with an inward wince, he was not in the mood to receive light insults.
"Father?"
"Eat your food," Draco commanded darkly.
"I wasn't serious," Ginny interjected. "Honestly."
His stare grew even stormier. "What you say," he told her coldly, "Really does not matter to me."
"But it does matter," she persisted. "Just the other day, I told Harry—"
His fork clattered loudly. "Do not," Draco hissed, "Ever mention Harry Potter in my house."
"Draco—" Ginny began.
Harriet scurried in then, a rolled parchment in hand. "Master Draco," she squealed. "You have an owl, Master Draco."
Draco glared at Ginny before wiping his fingers and reaching for the parchment. "Who's it from?"
"The big gray owl, sir."
"Ah," He said coolly, nodding and smoothing the sheet with slender hands. "It's from work, then."
"Father," Sebastian said quietly. "Do you have to leave again?"
Wrinkling his brow, Draco studied his letter. "Yeah."
"Oh," Sebastian said, staring morosely at his food.
"Must you?" Ginny asked in a soft voice.
"Of course I don't have to," Draco snapped. "I'm the president of my company. I don't have to do anything I don't want to do."
"Then stay," Ginny persuaded.
He tossed his napkin on the table and stood up. "Here with you?" He sneered. "No thanks. I'm afraid my dark arts might rub off on you."
"I really didn't mean—" Ginny cried.
"Save it," He cut her off, and stormed out of the room.
She sat in limp silence, a stunned expression on her face, for nearly three minutes before it registered in her mind and she leapt out after him. "Draco," she shouted, sprinting down the hall wildly.
He was at the bottom of the stairs when she caught up with him, not turning once at the sound of her voice as he reached the main door. "Don't do this," Ginny yelled.
Draco ignored her.
"Draco," Ginny cried. "Look, I really am sorry about what happened—"
"This is not about you," Draco said, without looking at her.
"Fine," Ginny answered breathlessly, skidding to a stop. "But you can't leave Sebastian like that. Didn't you see how upset he was?"
"Don't tell me what I can or cannot do," Draco exploded. "That is not your place at all."
"How many times do I have to remind you that he's your son?" Ginny shouted at him. "How much would it be for you to eat dinner with him?"
"I don't have time," He snarled.
"Then make time!" Ginny yelled. "Do you want to be Lucius Malfoy?"
He spun around, stormy gray eyes flashing. "Don't ever compare me to that man, Weasley," he hissed, just inches away from her face. "You don't know what the fuck you're talking about, so if I were you I'd just shut the hell up." Without another word, he flung open the grand double doors.
"Well, you're acting like him right now," She shouted after him. Draco stopped. He didn't turn around, but he didn't make a motion to move either, and she took this to her advantage. "Sebastian loves you, Malfoy," Ginny pleaded. "He reveres you, wants to be like you. Why can't you just be more like a father to him? Love him back?"
The silence was unbearable. Outside the manor, rain pounded relentlessly, and Draco stared into the bleak darkness for what seemed like minutes on end. "You wouldn't understand," he finally said. Slowly, he shut the door, hinges creaking obnoxiously, and leaned his head against the regal oak in despair, his breathing ragged. It was perhaps the first time Ginny had ever seen him lose his composure, and it wrenched at her heart.
She was at his side in a split second. "Try me," she said gently, encouragingly, resting a hand lightly on his arm.
He caught her eyes for what seemed like an infinite moment, harsh silver on warm brown, and then reached out, cupping her chin. "How can you be so good, Virginia Weasley?" He whispered softly, the burning sensation of his familiar touch sending shivers down into her spine and tears to her eyes. "How can you love the child of your most loathed enemy so much? Where do you find the strength and compassion to do so?"
She closed her eyes now, feeling the wetness fringing her upper lashes and not knowing exactly why she felt the urge to cry. Sighing deeply, Ginny brought her hand to his and stroked the tender flesh between his thumb and forefinger, wanting so much more. When she looked up again, his face was hovering close above hers. "Draco, I didn't mean any thing I said back there. Really, you aren't a bad person and I like spending time with you and I just—"
"Shh," he cut her off, pressing the thumb of the hand that was cupping her face still against her dry lips. And then his lips were on hers, a tender, gentle kiss sweeter than rain itself, the kiss she'd fantasized so long about experiencing again. They were so familiar, and she couldn't help thinking that at last, after all that wait, she was experiencing the sensation that was Draco Malfoy once more. Despite all logic arguing how wrong it was, her heart told her it was right, so right, and she kissed him back with a fervor that surprised them both. His tongue slid between her lips, probing with surprising question, and she knew damn well that his kisses were her undoing as her world turned into a dizzying bright rainbow.
And then, suddenly, as if he realized what he—what they—were doing, it ended, and she felt empty without the presence of his devouring lips, without the touch of his hands. It took her a few moments to collect herself, to steady the knees that had already melted into jelly, and finally she raised nervous brown eyes to meet his.
He was standing stock still, looking utterly stricken as he ran one hand through his hair and clenched and unclenched the other. "I—" He inhaled sharply.
She simply watched him with baited breath, unsure of how to react or what to say.
Draco closed his eyes. "Oh bloody hell."
And then, before she could respond, he turned on his heel and stormed into the pouring dark and rain.
~End of Chapter 8~