Author's (Epic) Note:
Wow! Many reviews! Also some e-mails! Thank you all very much- I do love reviews. I hope everyone is okay with this chapter. This is the last time I'll be taking something directly from Heyer's Devil's Cub- and working this scene into my fic was not mad fun, let me tell you. But I really, really, really love this scene in the Heyer novel and I didn't think that my semi-crossover would be complete without it. And again, if you're unfamiliar with Georgette Heyer, please check her out! You'll find her stuff in public libraries and used bookstores. She's totally badass, I promise. I recommend The Grand Sophy, Arabella, Cotillion (my personal favorite), The Unknown Ajax, The Talisman Ring, and, of course, Devil's Cub.
Ooh, one other thing. I just read a really good fic ("Jewel of the Harem" by Anise, in case you were wondering) and she mentioned that she had, like, three betas. (And it shows- that is one polished story.) I'd really like a beta. Alas, what you see before you is the result of one re-read, my degree in literature, and the Microsoft Word spell check. Not a perfect system. But where does one get a beta? Any help would be much appreciated. Thanks again!
By the way, this is the chapter where that "R" rating kicks in. And it's longer than anything I've written before. Please review!
Part Six
Washing-up, Draco soon discovered, was not nearly as entertaining as cooking. His elegant fingertips were disgustingly wrinkly, his expensive robes were soaked, and his dignity had been dealt a terrible blow. Despite his best efforts to evict her, the abominable Weasley had flat-out refused to leave the kitchen, blinking innocently up at him. "But Malfoy," she had said, oozing sincerity from every freckle, "What if you get confused? It's a very complicated process, washing up is." Looking quite saintly, she helped herself to an apple and settled down on an adjoining countertop to watch him scrub, helpfully pointing out any spots he missed.
After what seemed like untold hours of humiliation, Draco finally set the last gleaming dish on the drying rack and stalked out of the kitchen, intent on finding himself some alcohol- any type, he wasn't picky. Twenty minutes spent poking around in the cellars yielded pay dirt: two dusty bottles of a very old and very expensive wine. Nabbing a water goblet from the kitchen, he settled down in the dining room, planning to do his damnedest to wipe all thoughts of his current situation, his ridiculous housemate, and the horrors of dishwashing from his mind.
Ginny found him there an hour later, one bottle mostly gone and the other primed and ready. Good Lord. If she'd drunk half that much in twice the time she'd be out cold. He didn't look that far gone, actually, she noticed. His hands were steady as he lifted the goblet, but his eyes were very, very bright. They were rather nice eyes, she thought idly. Or they would be, if they didn't belong to the world's biggest wanker. Eyeing the nearly empty bottle, she hesitated. "Er… Malfoy?"
He rolled his head toward her, focusing those too-bright eyes on her face. "Ahh, Weasley. What can I do for you?" His voice was, rather disturbingly, as precise as ever.
Ginny felt a stirring of vague alarm. A drunk Malfoy was an unpredictable Malfoy. "I was wondering if you wanted to play, er, cards, or something, but I can see that you're busy, so I'll just-"
He interrupted her. "Would you like some wine?"
"Er, no." Ginny took a step backwards. For some reason, being somewhere else was sounding really good right now. "Thanks, but I think I'll just go to bed." She offered him a weak smile. "See you in the morn-"
"Sit down, Weasley." His voice was utterly compelling, and in the back of her mind, Ginny wondered if those rumors about him having a vampire relative were true.
She swallowed. "I'd prefer not to," she said honestly.
Draco grinned at her suddenly, his excellent teeth showing in a rather feral smile. "What are you fretting about, little Weasel? Worried I'm going to attack you?"
"Sort of," Ginny said, before she could stop herself.
"Here, then," he replied, digging in his breast pocket and fishing out his slender black wand. "Take it," he said, tossing it to her. "If I go absolutely nutters and try to kiss you, feel free to point that at me and yell whatever curse you like. Who knows? You might even get lucky and someone from the ministry will be monitoring this spot and come marching out here to save you."
Gingerly, Ginny took the wand from him and slid it into her skirt pocket. She'd use it, but only as a last resort. Using other people's wands was risky- any child that had visited a wand shop knew that. Sometimes the wand did what you wanted it to, but more often it didn't. Still, she felt a tiny bit safer knowing that she had a weapon. She chose a seat across from Malfoy, smoothing out her skirt and settling her hands in her lap. "So," she began, "Um, about those cards? Or maybe chess? I found a chess set."
He seemed have lost interest in her, pouring the last bit of wine into his glass. "Hmm. We'll see."
God, she wanted out of there. Ginny began to twiddle her thumbs, considering her retreat options. She knew seeking Malfoy out had been a bad idea, but she had been so bloody bored….
Across the table, Draco settled back in his chair, glass in hand, and looked at her. Really looked at her, surveying every inch of her visible above the dusty tabletop, evaluating her with the air of a connoisseur. His unwanted houseguest wasn't beautiful, his wine-sodden mind decided, but her figure was good, her features passably pretty, and her hair- well, even drunk, he shuddered at her hair- but he was willing to overlook it. In short: she was a reasonably attractive young woman, he was a very over-sexed young man, and unless the girl knew some damn entertaining card games, seducing her seemed like the only worthwhile way to spend an evening in this godforsaken spot. His mind thus made up, Draco directed his most seductive stare in Ginny's direction, lazily quirking a brow at her.
"What?" Why was he staring at her like that? Was there something in her hair? Oh, God, was it a spider? It would be just like Malfoy to sit back and enjoy the sight of an enormous, hairy, revolting spider crawling across her head! Frantically, Ginny began smoothing down her hair, fingers threading through the bright coppery strands, hunting for the phantom spider.
Draco's smile turned feline as he watched Ginny fiddle with her hair. Vanity, he thought, thy name is Weasley. Clearly, the stare was working. Still smirking, he silently pushed back his chair and stood up. He walked round table, pulling out a chair next to Ginny's and sliding gracefully into it. "So," he said quietly, "You said you wanted to play a game?"
Startled by his nearness, Ginny jerked her attention away from her hair. Her instincts warned her that the pale boy who seemed to have materialized in the chair beside her was a considerably bigger threat that even the most disgusting spider. What had he said? Oh. "Right. Maybe, um, poker? Or blackjack? Or-"
Draco reached out a pale hand and very gently touched her hair, smoothing a bright strand behind her ear.
"-Go Fish?" Ginny finished weakly. Ah. Clearly, Malfoy hadn't seen a spider. "Ummm- what are you doing, Malfoy?" She didn't want to know the answer, she was certain. Well, almost certain. He looked… hungry.
Draco only smiled in response, leaning forward and very delicately brushing his lips over her neck. Once, twice. He could feel her heart rate speed up under his mouth, the pulse fluttering wildly underneath the fragile skin. She tasted surprisingly good, some part of his brain registered. Like honey.
"Back off, Malfoy." But the girl's voice was no stronger than a whisper. Ignoring her weak protest, Draco slipped one hand into her hair- despite the terrible color, it was heavy and smooth between his fingers- and trailed the other down the side of her arm, intending to slide it under the soft wool of her jumper. "Stop. I… I'll use the wand."
Draco bit her neck, very gently, and smirked at her almost inaudible gasp. "Right," he murmured, kissing a pathway from her collarbone to the spot behind her ear. "Carry on, then."
"I mean it," she whispered. A tiny, disloyal voice in her head idly mentioned that whatever he was doing felt quite good, but the rest of her- all the sane bits- pointed out that this entire situation was absolutely bloody INSANE.
Unseen by her, Draco's smile widened. "No," he whispered against her neck, "Oh no, little weasel, you really don't."
Right then. Resolutely, Ginny pulled the wand from her pocket, pointed it at him, shut her eyes, and murmured a single word. "Stupefy."
BANG. The borrowed wand jerked in her hand, shooting out a beam of bright green light and a puff of foul-smelling smoke. Not quite what she'd been hoping for. Reluctantly, Ginny opened one eye.
Draco pulled away from her, still graceful, and looked down at the gaping wound she had just blown in his side. "Right," he said, calmly. "My mistake."
And then he fainted dead away.
"Well, bugger," said Ginny.
TBC