"Add this," he shoved the bowl containing the shredded Avendeladora silver wings. "Then wait--don't stir--until it turns to this exact colour." He showed her the dark blue-ish purple paper. "Compare it all the while--can't afford making mistakes--then, at last, stir clockwise fifteen times."
Ginny just grunted. This was the last day to brew the potion. It would be complete and Draco Malfoy had never been more ecstatic. Well, not exactly, as he would miss their fancy fights in front of or with Ron or Harry while they were there with them. But this was what he'd always wanted, was it not? Nothing that had happened between them in the last two months would have made him feel another.
He just let a lazy smile bloom on his face. He had noticed, of course, that of all the nights that they had worked together in this room, she had NEVER once worn a decent girl's clothes. Quote: "I'll bloody wear anything at anytime I want to, and if you want to see a girl in short skirts, this is not the bloody place; go find one of your pets. I'll work in whatever comfortable, and you're really not minding your own business as we agreed." She had said that and glared when he told her to, well he told her more than to, and she could have done with a thorough mouth wash after that. And tonight she wore a short above knee kilt and a tucked-in white shirt and on top of that, an elegant black confetti vest. If he had known better, Ginny was trying to entice him. He grimaced inwardly, like that would ever happen, even if he had wished for it fervently.
He was leaning against one of the tables behind her, distracted. "Look all you want, when you have it," Flint always said. Ginny did have long legs, and he never had any to look at all he wanted. So, naturally, he was looking his fill now. He'd never noticed them before. Of course, Malfoys could never have the time to look at Weasleys, but he did know how to appreciate nice legs when he saw them. Ginny wasn't exactly what you would call beautiful. She was plain--freckled pale skin and subtle cheekbone; masses of red hair, long and curled, neither shiny, nor silky by the looks of it. He couldn't say anything about her body. She was probably thin but other than that was hidden by those awful baggy robes she always wore. And when she took off her robe, yes, baggy school uniform. She hardly showed ANY curve at all. Tonight, without any baggies, he could very well appreciate her legs and curves--seemly she had grown up by the years.
She was working attentively with the potion. "Malfoy," she called, "the colour." He moved forward to stand exactly behind her. His left hand went to put at her side, on the table, and with his right he held the colour paper for her. She stiffened at his close proximity but kept on working. He chuckled inwardly; he always had that effect on females.
At the age of four months to eighteen, he was tall--6ft 2in--and had broad shoulders and a hard chest and abs, with appreciative lean muscles from all the Quidditch training and the swimming in the lake every Friday night (the giant squid hardly a nuisance, it had grown used to Draco's routine a long time ago). His pointed features smoothed to an angular face. His pale skin--of all the time in the dungeons--suited perfectly his white-blond hair, and Draco Malfoy had always been handsome, ever since the first day of his puberty. No details on that, now.
"Malfoy, I am capable of stirring fifteen times, I do not need you breathing down my neck. Do make a move to put at least ten miles distance between us. Your nearness makes my back itch."
He stepped out of his trances hopping. He heard her, but ignored it. When she finished stirring and put out the fire, he voiced, "Why, Weasley, I'm hurt." His feigning of hurt was so good, he himself was almost convinced.
Ginny whipped around--still between him and the table--saw him smirking, and narrowed her eyes. It seemed that Ginny had believed his hurtful tone. Gullible.
A moment of just air zephyred between them. He was peering into her cognac eyes, and was trying very hard to keep from drowning in them; his body seemed to disoblige in moving away. His body also disobliged when his mind warned it not to lean down. He cursed and swore for the disobedience of his own muscles. A little dip, and his lips was just a mere inch from her enticing ones. She sucked in a breath of anticipation and let it out raggedly. They stayed like that for a while, inhaling mingled breaths.
Ginny made a wild grab at his robe's front, it seemed that she was getting dizzy. That motion pulled Draco to her and their lips met. Draco wove an arm around her as she pulled his front more, and he pressured his lips on hers more. One of her hands went to his neck and held tightly as he let one of his hands run through her hair. It's silky. But that was the last thought that came to his mind as Ginny moved her lips under his, trying to let go. He stuck out his tongue and licked her lower lip, teasingly at first. Then, he prodded them to have access to her mouth. He was a bit startled when Ginny pulled away slightly, but then she parted her lips and brought him even closer than before. He spun her around and bent her back on the table and started to invade her mouth thoroughly. She gave a hearty moan and touched his tongue with hers shyly. They were kissing and moaning, utterly distracted and didn't notice when the heavy oak Potions Room door opened.
"Oh my god!" a voice exclaimed. Draco sprung, a little dazzled, and looked around wildly for the source of the sound that had interrupted them. He saw the door was open and made a quick move to it and peered outside. Nobody was there in the hallway.
"Damn it! If I ever get that nosey, I'll peel him limb by limb," he raged. He looked at Ginny, who was smoothing her hair and her clothes. She looked composed enough, regardless of the swollen lips.
"D-Did you see whoever it was?"
"No, apparently he ran too fast. We must have been a real sight," he smirked at this, "to scare him like that." He recklessly added, "or maybe, he just didn't want to see anything that might or might not happen." His smirk deepened even more, if that was possible.
She rolled her eyes. "It is not 'we,' Malfoy. It is YOU, kissing ME. You're the one who had caused them to go running."
"What do you mean it was me who scared that half-wit," he retorted. "He probably ran so fast because he knew if we got him, he'd have been a dead-pie".
"I don't think he ran because he was scared, Mal-foy," she said, impressing the "foy." Annoying. His smirk faltered a little, but he managed a sneer.
"Honestly, Weasley, I personally had seen to it that you weren't capable of thinking just a few moments ago. So, how could you possibly know that?"
She just waved it away like a bugging fly. "Or, that was probably a Gryffindor, who saw us and ran to get my brother," she sighed. "Namely, Harry Potter."
It took him a moment to register what she had said. "Right. It slipped my mind," he shook his head.
"Yes, I'm sure it did." Harry Annoying Potter was supposed to help them bottle the potion and clean the room after everything was done; he'd been given detention by Madam Hooch. She'd said that Potter had been caught doing a none-too-decent raunchy strip tease to someone--probably Granger--in the Quidditch shower room. In a Muggle-fearman suit. Or Draco had thought so. It seemed Potter was really edging from his sanity. Ah, we would like that very much, wouldn't we? So now, by chance Scarhead Potter saw them and went to fetch...Ginny's brother. Draco couldn't help himself from asking...
"Which brother?" would-be-innocent words dripping from his lips. "Wouldn't want--how many were there? Twenty? Twenty five?--angry Weasels on me."
She glared at him. "If you really are incapable of simple calculation, Malfoy, all you had to do was ask," she spat and put up her hand and dropped one finger as one counted. "Bill: One. Charlie: Two. Percy: Three. Fred: Four. George: Five. And Ron-"
"Is an oaf." She narrowed her eyes. He ignored it and voiced his thoughts. "Honestly, Weasley. Do you really think I'm interested to know how many Weasleys there are? As far as I'm concerned, as long as the whole million of them stay at least fifty miles away from me, I couldn't care less."
She continued to glare at him and it was giving him a crawling back. "There are six of them. And Ron...is here". Draco turned his head and saw Ron Weasley entering the room. Ron halted a moment, taking in the scene: his little sister and his archenemy not really at a favorable distance from one another. In a glare he gave Draco a promise of excruciating death before he went and started fussing over Ginny. Like a Mother hen. Mother Weasel actually. And Potter was seconds behind him, glaring at Draco from Ginny's side.
Draco was so busy fighting a silent eye-to-eye battle with Potter that he didn't notice Ron until he said, "Ginny! Are you alright? Did he leech you?" Hearing this, Draco made an over-dramatic roll of his eyes. Potter seemed a bit smug. The nerve of that Scar-Headed pillock. Just because he looked away, and because of the insistence of the matter, didn't mean Potter had it over him.
"I'm fine, Ron."
"Are you sure? He didn't hurt you, did he? Even if he didn't, I'll-"
"For God's sake, Weasley--He-Weasley. She-Weasley here would've been in better condition if you hadn't come in, at the same time polluting the air I'm breathing," he sneered and celebrated inwardly. "Could you skip the, 'Are you okay, Gin-ger malicious bear?' part and start being your oafest, so I would have an excellent reason to skin you? Not that weasels' skin worth much, but it would certainly help your finance" He smirked. Ooh, how he smirked. "Honestly, I don't have all night you know. And any blind person could see that The-Turd-Who-Lived-to-Shag-Mudblood-Granger here can't wait to get back and do the Fearman Suit stripping again."
Draco thought that was, for him, the most satisfying crude remark he had ever thrown at their pretty-ugly faces. Then, what had happened was a blur. Ron started shouting, "Skin me? I'LL SKIN YOU!" and launched himself at Draco. Potter tried to grab Ron and keep him from ripping Draco's skin and tailoring it to be made apparel--literally--and failed to do so, as always. Draco's Seeker reflexes came in handy when he dodged Ron to the side, and Ron went right into the cauldron on the table behind Draco--the Reticent Potion cauldron.
"No!!" Ginny screamed, but nobody took notice of that; the boys were too busy with the little commotion here. Potter tried to punch Draco when Ron didn't manage to. Draco made no effort to move and grabbed the threatening fist and twisted it while tried to crush it in. He turned the twisted hand to Potter's back and gave him a mighty shove with his feet. Potter fell down, knees first, and managed to break the rest of his fall with his hand.
Then, Draco thought that Ron was going to get up and continue attempting to kill him, but Ron just sat there, massaging his potion dripped forehead and muttering incoherently. There was dark blue-purple liquid all over Ron and on the floor, but what was weird was that Ron hadn't made any move to even get up. It seemed that Ron's rage had cooled down, somehow; he was muttering to himself and licking his lips. Draco looked over to Ginny, puzzled for a while as to why she was enraged. Then, of course--two months of waiting en passant for nothing. She was shaking with fury and clenching her fist.
Wait! Did Weasley--Ron--lick his lips? This was not good. Ron's sudden change of state was his own fault. Draco wouldn't be blamed for any of it.
"Ron?" Potter called out. Potter knelt down to Ron's side and shook him a little. He finally came to notice that there was something the matter with him. "Ron, are you okay?"
Ginny made a move towards Ron; to smack him, Draco supposed, and on instinct--and curse it--Draco stopped her by grabbing her by the waist. "Let me go, you fool! Let me go! Tipping the cauldron! I'll get him, no good-" Draco shoved into her mouth a candy he produced from his pocket. That should shut her up for a while. And it did. Ginny stopped struggling and Draco warily let her go. She glared daggers at him. Draco could see clearly that now he was her aim, so he tried to escape it by doing something decidedly good. He turned to Potter.
"Potter," However reluctant he was to let Ron back to his original state, being as a gentleman, Draco decided to do what seemed the right thing at the moment--escape Ginny's wrath in anyway possible. "Go to the staffroom--try to be as stealthy as you can--and fetch Snape here or any teacher you can find."
"W-Why? Why is he like this?" he shook Ron violently, but Ron just shoved him away, still muttering foolishly. "Ron?"
"Potter, go and do as I say." Draco said. Behind him, Ginny had calmed down and figured what happened to Ron.
"What did you do to him, you ferret-face?!" Potter started toward Draco, but Ginny moved to stand between both of the boys.
"Harry, just do what he says," She ignored his exclaim of a puzzled, "WHY?!" gave him an orderly look, and went over to Ron. By the look on her face, Draco thought she was going to say, "Serves you right, Ron." But she didn't say anything; instead she Accio-ed a towel and began wiping her brother's face.
"Ginny? Ginny, tell me what's going on?" Harry ruffed.
"Potter, are you really slower than a Tortoisirian? Older Weasley here has likely swallowed the potion." Draco saw Potter's face of horror while it sunk in and wished for a Pensieve so he could replay this moment over and over again.
(A/N Tortoisirian comes from the word tortoise)
"Swallowed the p-potion?" Potter squeaked. "The Reticent Potion?"
Draco managed to swallow back a comment that had gone as far as the edge of his tongue on Potter's slowness in catching up events. "Yes, and yes." Poor Oaf Weasley. How he managed to feel all glad and gleeful over it, and pity at the same time, he would never know.