Author's Note: What's this? Why, yes, it is an update! And only a wee bit more than a month since the last one. I hope everyone's proud. As always, a huge thank-you to everyone that reviewed. I know that every fanfic writer says this and that it's totally cheesy, but reviewing is a huge payback for me and absolutely makes writing fanfics worthwhile.
Also, I'd like everyone to know that "Chastity Savage" is the name that the romance novelist Susan Elizabeth Phillips claims she wanted as her original pen name, and that I am borrowing it without her permission. I hope that gives you an idea of the sense of humor she displays in her books, which I promise are much better than anything called "Cecilia and the Wicked Wizard" could ever be.
Chapter Ten:
By Monday evening, Ginny had discovered that being Malfoy's eyes and ears at Hogwarts was bizarrely enjoyable. She was certainly planning on enjoying the healthy sum of money that she had flatly insisted that Malfoy pay her in advance in exchange for her investigative services, and she was finding it strangely satisfying to have someone to safely inflict her Ron-induced foul mood on. ("It's either pay me to keep an ear out for you, Malfoy, or wait for Goyle to learn how to write. Enjoy your lonely old age, won't you?")
By Tuesday night, she had established a workable routine: as soon as classes ended she would take a trip down to the hospital wing, spend a few minutes eavesdropping on both the Slytherins and Ravenclaws- who knew that six years of being just shy of invisible could prove to be dead useful?- and then slip away to a safe location to use the portkey and report back to an increasingly stir-crazy Draco. ("No change. That poor first-year's still unconscious, the other one still hasn't said anything- oh, and you're still an idiot, did you know?")
On Wednesday morning Ginny slipped into the school's owlery to send a sealed letter from Draco to his mother, and shortly thereafter a Malfoy family owl had arrived at the school with a cream-colored envelope containing a letter excusing Draco's absence. As Draco pointed out, it was a temporary fix- dependent on the hexed boy's continued unwitting cooperation- but better than nothing.
On Thursday, she brought her homework along with her when she left Hogwarts and spent a productive hour finishing off a scroll for potions. An un-crowded place to work had been an almost unheard-of luxury in Ginny's life, and she was discovering that she felt almost… comfortable in the gloomy big house in France. She had never been able to fully forget about the dangers lurking in the hidden spaces of Hogwarts, and it was strangely reassuring to know that in Draco's house she always knew exactly where the enemy was.
Usually right in front of her, being annoying as hell.
"Here, Malfoy- what's the most common use of pickled Murtlap?"
"Not telling."
"C'mon. I'm terrible at this."
"I'm sure you are. So?"
"So, a real human being would give me a hand with it."
"Really?"
"God, you are such a bastard."
"You wound me."
"I wish."
A long silence, and then, with a long-suffering sigh, "… it promotes resistance to curses and jinxes."
"Why, thank you, Malfoy." Pleasantly surprised, Ginny scribbled the answer down. Then she paused. "Unless you just fed me the wrong answer, whereupon I hope you choke."
Draco rolled his eyes, propping his booted feet on the massive tabletop and slouching deep into one of the dining room chairs, mindful of his wounded side. "It's the right answer, Weasley. I'm so bloody bored I'd almost offer to do your homework for you. Can't you bring me something to do?"
Without looking up from her homework, Ginny groped through her bag and fished out a battered paperback book, which she tossed in the general direction of the boy across the table. "Enjoy."
Catching it nimbly, Draco flipped it over to read the title. "'Cecilia and the Wicked Wizard', by Chastity Savage. Niiiice taste in literature, Weasel."
She rolled her eyes at her scroll. "You're welcome, ferret-face."
Draco tossed the book back onto the table. He was bored enough to be tempted to just throw his dignity to the wind and read it, but his Malfoy training went too deep to allow him to appear foolish in public, even if the public in question was just Ginny Weasley. "Drivel." Sighing, he slumped back in his chair and cast a look from underneath his lashes at the slender girl across from him. She was frowning down at her homework, easily and completely ignoring him. It was unacceptable. Girls never ignored him. Draco squashed a bizarre urge to simply lunge over the table and kiss her, just to see what she'd do. There had to be a less totally insane way to get her attention, he told himself firmly, and eventually settled on a childhood favorite: whining. "I'm hungry. Let's go cook something, Weasley. Something complicated. Something time-consuming."
"I'm busy," she said pointedly. "Some of us still have school, remember?"
"Lord- give it here." Stretching out a long arm, he snagged her homework and dragged it toward him, ignoring her little gasp of irritation. "You're almost done. Twenty-four is powdered Graphorn's horn, and twenty-five is Demiguise pelts."
Ginny snatched her homework back from him, glaring at him through the strands of red hair that had fallen from the messy knot on top of her head. "Look, can't you entertain yourself for ten minutes? There's a mirror in the other room. That's always fun for you."
"Delightful though that would undoubtedly be, man cannot live on beauty alone." He narrowed his eyes at her. "I do believe I mentioned that I was hungry- and you're working for me, remember?"
"Keeping my ears open, yes," Ginny replied irritably, jotting down the final answers before rolling up the scroll and stashing it in her bag. "Who said anything about cooking? There's cereal, isn't there?" She stood up, fishing in her bag for the portkey.
Draco scowled at the sight. She was leaving. Damn it, he didn't want her to leave. It was boring here without her. He spoke without thinking, trying to delay her departure just a little bit longer. "Look, don't go yet, Weasley. I'm about to die of malnutrition. Teach me to cook something. Anything. I'm beyond sick of cereal."
Ginny stared at him for a moment, biting her lip. She should really get back to the dormitory, but something in Malfoy's voice made her pause. When he wasn't being snide, she thought, Malfoy's voice was weirdly compelling. Somehow she found herself nodding. "All right. Something little. Let's go."
Draco got to his feet as quickly as the wound in his side would allow. "Good," he said coolly, dusting off his robes and trying to recover a bit of his somewhat damaged hauteur. "I simply cannot face another bowl of cornflakes."
"C'mon, then," Ginny said, rolling her eyes yet again as Draco began to meticulously pick invisible bits of lint off of his robes. Like he wasn't perfect already, she thought, suddenly uncomfortably aware of her own mussed hair and ink-stained fingers. "Move it, Malfoy. I haven't got all night." When he ignored her, she simply grabbed a fistful of expensive material and gave a sharp tug, intending to haul him off in the direction of the kitchens. Startled and off-balance, Draco stumbled toward her, his larger body crowding against hers. Blushing furiously, Ginny released her hold on his robes immediately and practically leapt back, muttering an apology.
"Forget it," Draco said shortly. Was it her imagination, or was there a slight tinge of pink in his face as well? Still tomato-red, Ginny started toward the kitchens, mentally flipping through her slim catalogue of recipes to find the one that would get her out of there in the shortest amount of time. When they reached the kitchens, she silently fished out a frying pan and grabbed eggs, cheese, and tomatoes from the icebox, painfully aware of his unblinking gaze following her every movement. The entire situation felt surreal- she, Ginny Weasley, was teaching Draco Malfoy, who had recently tried to jump her and only slightly less recently been largely unaware of her existence, how to cook. In France.
All that was missing was a bunch of melting clocks.
"Watch what I do, okay?" Ginny muttered, carefully not looking at Draco's face. "I'm going to make an omelet. Dead easy." With quick, efficient movements, she prepared the simple meal and slid the finished product onto a plate. "There you go," she said, shoving it at him and glancing around for her bag.
"Wait," Draco said abruptly, a half-formed plan spinning in his Slytherin brain. "Show me how to flip it one more time. I'll do the rest." Without waiting for her agreement, he carefully mixed the ingredients together and poured them into the hot pan. "Here," he said and stepped aside, his eyes sliding back toward her face. He tried to look innocent. It didn't suit him.
He was plotting something, she was sure, and she was equally certain that she wanted no part of it. Gnawing on her lower lip, Ginny cautiously approached the stove, casting a quick, suspicious glare at the tall boy standing next to it. She was just reaching out to grab the handle of the pan when a pale hand reached out and long fingers curved around her wrist. With a growing sense of doom, she raised her gaze to the tall boy standing next to her, and was somehow totally unsurprised to find his lips brushing over hers as he bent closer to fit their mouths together, his hand trailing up her wrist, her arm, her neck, into her hair.
For first time in recent memory, Draco wasn't quite sure what he was doing with a girl in his arms. He wasn't drunk this time, but somehow he felt even more off balance, all his attention focused on the small redhead that he was currently trying, with all of his power, to coax into kissing him back. Why did the damn girl have to be so bloody difficult? And why did she have to taste so good? A girl with a mouth that felt like hers should be kissing people on a routine basis, not lurking about in corners.
It was downright wasteful, that's what it was.
And then somehow, she was kissing him. Ginny wasn't quite sure how it happened, but suddenly her mouth opened under the gentle pressure of his and she was kissing him back. She had very little practical experience, but thanks to Chastity Savage and her ilk she had plenty of theoretical knowledge. Her hands decided to act of their own accord and somehow landed on Draco's broad shoulders. The rational portion of her brain was furiously waving a red flag ("Danger, Ginny Weasley! Danger! Think about what your mum would say!") but she resolutely ignored it. Draco Malfoy might be a total bastard, but whatever he was doing felt too good to muck up with a bunch of rational thought.
Draco, pleasantly surprised by the sudden cooperation of the slight girl in his arms, tentatively decided to take things a bit further. He had a sneaking suspicion he was about to get his head knocked clear off, but for seventeen-year-old males, hope springs eternal and the pursuit of sexual gratification always trumps common sense. The hand that wasn't buried in Ginny's messily pinned-up hair slid toward the buttons of her shirt. Luckily for him, it was a hand-me-down from Charlie, hanging loosely on her slender frame, and he was able to get a healthy start on the buttons before she noticed a thing.
Ginny barely had a moment to wonder at the sudden draftiness of the kitchen before Draco's warm hand slid over the curves of her small cotton-covered breasts. She gasped against his mouth, jerking back, but he followed her, deepening the kiss, distracting her. Ignoring the anguished screaming and hair-clutching coming from her common sense, Ginny pressed closer, letting out a tiny moan when his hand returned to her chest, curving over the swell of her breasts, long fingers smoothing over her skin. She had never felt anything like this, the taste of him, the feel of him, the smell…
…of the burning eggs.
"Fucking hell," Draco hissed, pulling back from her and turning toward the stove. The omelet had turned completely black and was smoking furiously. Snatching up a towel, he grabbed the handle and dumped the entire mess in the sink and turned the water on it, sending up a cloud of foul-smelling steam. The entire process took less than thirty seconds, but when he turned back around he was just in time to catch a glimpse of Ginny Weasley kicking up her heels as she practically sprinted out of the room.
****
Ginny skidded into the Gryffindor common room with four minutes to spare, half of her hair falling out of the knot on top of her head and her cheeks still flaming. "Oh, thank God," said a wide-eyed Hermione, rushing toward her. "There you are. Did you hear? There's been another attack."
TBC… soon! I have the next chapter partially written!