5/27/21
Holidating
by idreamofdraco
Remembrance Day 2006
"Do you think it would be inappropriate to ask Draco to be my plus-one to the Remembrance Day gala?" Ginny asked, finally broaching the subject she'd come to Hermione and Ron's suburban home to talk about. It had merely taken her an hour of sipping pumpkin juice while watching her brother clean up the back garden to pluck up the courage.
Ron rose from the shrub he was trimming and wiped his sweaty face with his sleeve before replying without any hesitation, "Yes."
In the lounge chair next to her, hands resting on a rounded stomach, Hermione rolled her eyes. "What are you concerned about? That he'll be offended by the invitation? Or that everyone else will be offended by his attendance?"
"Yes," Ginny said. At Hermione's glare, she grinned and clarified. "Both are concerns."
"A war hero bringing a war criminal to an event in honor of the anniversary of the end of the war he lost seems in bad taste to me," Ron went on as he hacked at the poor shrub.
"Don't call me that," Ginny snapped. "And he was acquitted."
"Did you forget about your Order of Merlin? Or the award the Hogwarts board of governors gave you for services to the school? Those make you a hero. And being acquitted of his crimes does not make Malfoy less of a criminal."
"I didn't do the things I did during the war for recognition. I did them because someone had to. That doesn't mean I'm a hero. If you disagree, then at the very least respect my wishes and stop calling me one."
Ron shrugged and continued snipping the greenery with heavy shears. This was an argument they had engaged in frequently over the years, particularly as Remembrance Day loomed closer. After the war, receiving some of the same recognition that Harry had endured his entire life had been the height of honor for Ron. Of course Ginny understood. In a family as large as theirs, being the second youngest of seven left little opportunity for Ron to stand out from their siblings.
In contrast, Ginny had withered under the praise and accolades, finally understanding the burden Harry had carried. The title of hero sounded nice until you were lying awake at night, wondering what you could have done better, how you could have saved more lives. Ginny was the one who had found Colin's body. She would have traded every award in the world to have him back. Then there was Teddy. She had always loved him like a son, but Teddy deserved to be raised by his actual parents instead of his grandmother and godfather. Even though nothing Ginny could have done would have changed Colin, Tonks, and Remus's fates, it still rubbed her the wrong way to be called a hero when they and others had lost their lives for the same cause.
"So you're going to attend this year?" Hermione asked, moving the subject along before an argument could break out.
In 1999, Minister of Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt declared May 2nd a national holiday to honor the anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts and Voldemort's defeat. Ginny and Harry used to attend the Ministry of Magic's fundraising gala held annually on Remembrance Day, but the extravagance of the event, the performative nature of it, had rubbed Harry the wrong way. The Ministry was constantly trying to trot Harry out as some kind of mascot, using his reputation as the wizarding world's savior to boost public perception. The same old song and dance. After the first two years, she and Harry began to decline their invitations and hadn't attended the gala in several years.
"I've been encouraged to," Ginny said. "The Harpies participated in that charity tournament last year, remember? The league is being recognized for all the money the tournament earned, and Gwenog thought it would look good if the players who participated were there." She chewed on her thumbnail, wondering if she should leave her reasoning at that.
Hermione was too shrewd to fool, however. "But you have another reason to attend, don't you?"
Ginny sighed, knowing what she was going to say would be met with disapproval.
"I don't know if Harry will be there, but I'm sure Cho will go to support the league, too. And if she's there, surely Harry will go as her date."
Hermione's lips pressed together in a hard line. It was still difficult to talk to Hermione and Ron about her relationship with Harry. They were best friends with him, after all, so their loyalties were divided.
"So, what? You want to show Harry up or something?" Ron asked, taking a break from trimming to hear Ginny out.
"I just thought it would be a good opportunity to be seen. Rita Skeeter is still writing articles about me as if I haven't been out socially because I'm crying over Harry in my bedroom all the time and I hate Cho. But if I attend, and with Draco as my date, she and everyone else can write about how I've moved on."
Hermione tilted her head and rubbed her stomach thoughtfully. "Have you moved on?"
"Maybe?" Ginny hedged. "I don't know. I'm not crying over Harry and I don't hate Cho, at least. It still hurts, and seeing him is still awkward, but… I don't know. I want him to be happy. It's not his fault that I'm not."
Both Hermione and Ron frowned, their matching expressions one of concern. Ginny wished she could take that admission back, not only because it made her feel pathetic but also because it was only partially true.
No, of course she wasn't happy when she dwelled on her wrecked plans and gaping abyss of a future. But one thought that did make her happy, one part of her future that didn't fill her with existential dread, was thinking about the next time she'd see Draco.
She had to admit, spending part of Easter Sunday at Malfoy Manor had not been a good time. Narcissa and Lucius had been unpleasant when speaking about her—never once speaking to her, as if they had hoped ignoring her might make Ginny disappear—and the manor had been a stark reminder of their contentious history. Even so, Draco had defended his choice to bring her as his date rather than let his parents speak ill of her, and he'd shown her a side of himself she'd never witnessed before.
At the Burrow, he'd revealed even more to her.
Like how patient and sweet he could be to a child even though he was clearly uncomfortable in Teddy's presence. Or how aware he was of his family's deficiencies and his misplaced values growing up.
And the sound of his laugh, the sight of his face filled with glee, as they'd taken out their frustration with Harry using harmless confetti-filled eggshells.
Her holidates with Draco were often fun and always unexpected, and they truly made her happy. And that was without factoring in how he made her feel whenever they were close to each other, the shiver of anticipation that wracked her every time she remembered his breath on her neck as he offered to ravish her.
(Anywhere you want it. Any time. Rule number three be damned. Noooo, of course Ginny didn't lie awake at night and repeat that memory over and over in her head! She absolutely did not fantasize about saying yes to his proposition while pumping slick fingers inside herself more than once a week. Regret who? Never heard of it!)
Ginny knew it was unwise to depend on him for her happiness. The last time she'd placed her happiness on another person, it had been one-sided without her knowledge and then torn away from her when she least expected it. Besides, she suspected Draco of using her to entertain his friends with stories of their holidating misadventures, so it was not only unwise to be happy with him anyway—it made her an utter fool.
This wasn't the time to unpack that, though. In fact, Ginny would be better off not thinking of Draco at all outside of their holidates.
"Sounds a bit like you want to use Malfoy to better your reputation," Hermione said gently.
Ginny breathed a sigh of relief that she'd let that unhappy revelation pass without comment.
"So?" Ron said with a scoff. "Sounds to me like Malfoy can make up his own mind if he wants to be used or not. Inviting him doesn't mean he has to accept, and he'd be an idiot not to consider the consequences before accepting."
Ginny and Hermione stared at Ron until he began to fidget under their gazes. "What?" he said gruffly.
"I think that's the most emotionally intelligent thing you've ever said," Ginny replied.
He shrugged awkwardly. "I'm torn, see. I would love nothing more than for Malfoy to attend the gala and get shredded to pieces for having the gall to show his face."
"But?" Hermione asked.
"But I don't like seeing my baby sister getting smeared by the press because of Harry. So if you think taking Malfoy as your date—your holidate, mind—will help, then of course you should ask him. Never hurts to ask, does it?"
Ginny continued to stare at Ron's self-conscious expression for a moment and then launched herself out of her chair and into his startled arms.
"I'm sweaty and dirty," he complained.
"Shut up and let me hug you." Ginny's voice tremored, her emotion overwhelming her. She'd never expected anyone to take her side over Harry's, and maybe Ron hadn't done that exactly. But he'd acknowledged how badly Ginny had been treated because of Harry, and that meant everything to her coming from her closest brother, Harry's closest friend.
After another awkward moment, he wrapped his arms around her and squeezed. "I warned him not to hurt you multiple times. The last time, after the war was over and you started dating again, I reminded him of what you could do to him if he hurt you. So you do whatever you need to do to make this right for you. If—if Malfoy can help, then, I don't know. He'll get a pass from me, I guess. Just this one time though!"
"Of course," Ginny said with a laugh.
And when they pulled away from each other, they let the conversation drift on to other topics, Ron's recent development of emotional intelligence swept aside but not forgotten.
Remembrance Day is a real holiday, Ginny reminded herself as she waited outside Hogsmeade Station for Draco. She wasn't using him for nefarious purposes. Just like Ron said, he was an adult capable of making his own decisions. Ginny did not have to worry that she was setting Draco up by bringing him to an event full of war veterans celebrating the anniversary of their war victory by raising money for families affected by the war. The war that Draco fought in and lost.
Today was a holiday, which meant that inviting him to the gala was within the terms of their holidating agreement.
A flutter of anticipation filled her stomach. For the first time since they began holidating, she was excited to see him, to be seen with him. She shouldn't feel guilty about this. If he was smart, he had weighed the pros and cons of attending before he'd agreed to come, and Ginny didn't think he would willingly put himself in the middle of a potentially volatile situation without considering his options first. He said he'd meet her in front of the station so they could arrive at the gala together. He'd given her his word, whatever that was worth.
So far it was worth enough. It was worth everything. He'd been amazing with her family at Easter, with Harry and Teddy and even Victoire. With George and Verity on St. Patrick's Day. Besides toeing the line of breaking Holidating Rule #3 (Ginny wouldn't think about that now. She couldn't let that memory distract her.), he'd been a perfect gentleman these last four months. He'd rescued her on Valentine's Day. He'd supported her on New Year's Eve.
Recent history dictated that his word was gold.
But part of her expected him to stand her up, and she couldn't even blame him for it. The annual Remembrance Day gala was no place for a Malfoy. So why had he accepted her invitation?
Her breaths grew shorter, and her chest tightened. The bodice of this bloody gown didn't help ease her breathing one bit. In fact, she suspected it was making breathing more difficult. Bloody corset squeezing her ribs, making her breasts look delectable at the expense of her life.
She wouldn't be angry if Draco didn't show up, not really, but the thought of arriving at the gala alone made her lungs burn. George never came to these things. Neither did her parents or Bill and Fleur. Not since the first one, at least. Ron and Hermione usually attended because of their jobs, but they weren't attending this year due to Hermione's pregnancy. Percy would be here somewhere with Penelope, too busy networking and supporting the Minister to keep Ginny company. Maybe she could search for Gwenog in the crowd.
This was an awful idea. Harry had had the right idea all those years ago to stop attending this function. It had turned into a pretentious display of philanthropy, practically meaningless when everyone wore their designer dress robes and family jewels. Look how much money we have. Aren't we generous to part with a fraction of a fraction of it to feed and clothe dirty war orphans in exchange for a tax write-off?
Ginny had worked herself up into an anxious frenzy when a light touch on her arm made her shriek and turn.
Draco's eyes narrowed on her, his brow creasing at her distress.
"You're here!"
"Surprised I showed up? I said I would." He scowled at her, his displeasure at her lack of faith obvious and condemning.
Ginny flushed. "No, no! Just. You know. Overthinking the whole thing. Freaking out. Hyperventilating. Or maybe I'm being strangled. Not sure, in this dress."
He perused the dress in question now that she'd mentioned it, and Ginny's flush burned hotter, as if his gaze was a touch sweeping down the length of her and then back up. She felt every inch of that stare as if she were wearing nothing at all. Was it her imagination or had his eyes darkened? No longer the color of ice chips, now smoldering coal?
"Your tits look great. Platonically speaking."
"Right?" Because she'd lost her mind, she groped herself, squeezing gently. Her stomach jumped into her throat as Draco eyed how well she filled up her hands and then glanced quickly away. His throat bobbed. She was going to die right here on the spot. Death by spontaneous combustion. Deceased due to her own idiocy.
He cleared his throat and turned slightly away. "Shall we go?"
"Of course!" She rushed to take his offered arm. The anxiety from moments ago was now replaced by another emotion entirely, one Ginny did not wish to examine too closely. Both feelings made her heart race uncomfortably behind her corseted ribs.
As they headed down the path leading to Memorial Park, they passed other people dressed in clothes so fine, Ginny could smell the gold wafting off them like a cloying perfume. Jewels dangled from earlobes and necks and wrists, sparkled against swathes of silk and velvet. Men and women both were equally adorned in their wealth, both wore colors and patterns bright enough to distract from the next person's outfit in an attempt to claim some attention for themselves.
Draco was dressed more simply in black, but the fine material under Ginny's fingers indicated his wealth clearly enough.
She slid her other hand along her skirt and felt underdressed in comparison. Her parents didn't have any inherited jewels for her to wear, so her neck was bare. The strapless design of her dress left her arms and shoulders equally naked of jewelry and fabric. The mass of freckles that dotted her skin was her only decoration.
The dress was the same one she'd worn to her first Remembrance Day gala in 1999. She'd still been in school, hadn't yet joined the Harpies, so she'd been a gangly teen back then. Luna had used her sewing skills to modify the dress for her a bit, to let out some of the material to accommodate muscles Ginny had gained over years of Quidditch training. The bodice had been completely remade into a corset to put her more mature breasts on display. The gold satin shimmered in the moonlight, small reflective flecks all over the skirt glittering like daytime stars.
Ginny had felt beautiful in her recycled dress until this moment.
Draco glanced at her when she stiffened next to him, his mouth thinning as he pressed his lips together. He didn't ask what was wrong, and she wouldn't know what to say anyway if he had. So many things were wrong with her. Even though her attendance had been required by Gwenog, she hadn't been required to bring a date. This was a horrible idea.
Well, too late now. The Shrieking Shack loomed ahead, the nearly full moon glowing behind it and casting a light shadow on the path. Across from the shack, the Memorial Park gazebo welcomed visitors to the gala, lit up with fairy lights draped around the stair rails and entrance. On the far side of it, a large tent like the one the Weasleys had used for Bill and Fleur's wedding—but much larger—sat on the empty park grounds. Music and voices floated through the air, meeting them as soon as they climbed the steps of the gazebo where a security wizard collected invitations and checked them against his attendee list.
"Ginny Weasley and guest," Ginny said, her voice too quiet at first. She had to repeat herself to be heard over string instruments and pretentious laughter.
He accepted her invitation, checked the list, and waved them through without lifting his head from his parchment. Ginny stopped for just a second in front of the blue flames as a breeze gusted through the gazebo. She shivered and wished she could take some of the warmth of the flames with her into the tent.
Draco removed her fingers from his arm so he could place his hand on her lower back. His handprint burned into her skin and she shivered again, her nipples pebbling, though whether because of his heat or just him, Ginny couldn't begin to know. Or maybe she could; she just didn't want to.
A jacket plopped over her shoulders, and Ginny looked up. Draco had taken off his coat, his body heat transferring from him to her.
"Better?" he asked, lips spreading into a smug smile.
Ginny's body tightened further, her skin shrinking around her while inside her blood went molten. The coat on her shoulders almost felt like a hug. Her mind wandered, imagining what it would feel like to have him draped around her instead, how good that heat might be, how heavy and comforting his weight.
Draco frowned slightly when she didn't answer him, but she couldn't say a word. She felt a little crazy, a little out of control. This was such a bad idea. What had she been thinking?
She pulled him through the gazebo and into the tent, the sounds of guests and clinking glasses and music combining into a cacophony that must have been partially muffled outside the tent with a spell. Orbs of light floated toward the top of the tent. People danced in the middle of the floor while others circulated around the edge with bubbly drinks in hand. Constant motion drew Draco and Ginny into the crowd, and she found herself greeting people she'd never met before who recognized her while dragging Draco behind her. Their clasped hands were a lifeline keeping them tethered to each other.
There wasn't time for a conversation—or even an introduction in some cases—because the tide of people kept flowing. But Ginny soon became aware of gasps and not-so-hushed whispers following her as she passed. As they passed. She squeezed Draco's hand, confirming he was still with her. He squeezed back. The sensation zinged up her arm, stopped for a second at her heart, and then settled low in her stomach.
"Can you believe—"
"—he doing here?"
"The audacity—!"
The whispers became louder, and Ginny kept moving, searching for someone in the crowd she could have a conversation with for a brief distraction from the staring and the growing outrage.
"Ginny!" As if her mind had conjured her, Gwenog materialized out of thin air, stopping Ginny and Draco in their tracks and causing a mild traffic jam of indignant, vaguely important rich people. "Good, you made it."
"You didn't give me much of a choice," Ginny replied with a strained smile.
Gwenog ignored that. "Is this your date?"
Draco extended his hand. "Holidate actually." His face was perfectly neutral as Gwenog pumped his hand up and down with all the vigor of someone trying to draw water out of a dry well.
"Excellent," she said, as if Draco hadn't said anything strange. "I'm glad. This whole Harry Potter mess has distracted you. Maybe now you can get your head out of the clouds and back in the game."
Ginny stiffened, feeling chastised all over again for the loss against Pride of Portree earlier in the year. She hadn't even known Cho and Harry were dating yet, and the match had been an utter disaster. Since she'd found out about Harry dating again, she'd played worse and worse with each match, until Gwenog had had no choice but to replace her with a second-string Chaser. Her captain was not wrong about Ginny's inability to perform, but it stung all the same to have it pointed out in public, especially, for some reason, in front of Draco.
"How does holidating me distract her less?" he asked with a calculated tilt of his head. Ginny wasn't sure if his confusion was real or feigned to extract information out of Gwenog.
"You're right. A new boyfriend may distract her more." She turned to Ginny now. "You're forbidden from dating anyone at all. Remind me to suggest that condition be added to your contract when you renew."
"What if I'm not allowed to renew?" Ginny realized as she asked that this was a true concern of hers. What if she got traded? What if she got dropped? What if she crashed and burned just as her career was starting to take off? All because of a man. Her shoulders slumped and Draco squeezed her hand again. As if he'd pumped something into her veins with that squeeze—a steroid, a Pepper-Up Potion, or maybe a St. Patrick's Day special—her shoulders lifted again, her back straightening with moral support.
Gwenog patted Ginny's shoulder, and it was a solid foundation under her palm. "I believe in you. You've been through worse. Harry Potter, too, shall pass." The compassionate moment only lasted a mere second before her eyes drifted beyond Ginny's shoulder. "What on earth is Amarantha wearing? Excuse me, I must go mock her."
And then Gwenog was gone, off to prattle into one of Ginny's teammate's ears. But she'd left behind her utter faith in Ginny, which she wrapped around herself like a comforting blanket. Or Draco's jacket.
She remembered, then, what Draco had said to her on Easter. He'd said she looked like trouble and trouble looked like a Bludger.
Batted around the sky, but never broken by the beating, never slowing down. No matter how hard the blow, it continues flying, and any player who comes into contact with it never forgets the experience.
At the time, she'd been hypnotized by the intensity of his gaze and hadn't actually comprehended what he was saying. Not until now. Is that what he thought of her? That she was someone strong who never gives up? Before Harry broke up with her, she might have said the same thing about herself. The insecure woman she was now was not the same one who co-led a rebellion and earned an Order of Merlin. She didn't like the woman she was now. Hadn't she vowed to herself not to become this person, way back on Christmas Eve, when she saw Harry for the first time since the breakup?
She was a Bludger. She was capital-T Trouble. It was time she acted like it.
She injected steel into her spine and turned to Draco. "Would you like to dance?"
He eyed the dance floor, that space in the middle of the tent where dancers could be observed and gossiped about by the non-dancers on the outside. It was a bold move, not just for him to attend the gala, but for him to be seen at the gala. To put himself in the center of attention instead of cowering along the edge of society.
Ginny wanted him to say yes, but she would not be disappointed if he said no.
He didn't say yes. Instead, he silently led her through the heaving throng of people watching their every move. And then they broke through the crowd and breached the dance floor. Other couples moved away from them as they claimed a piece of the floor for themselves and took a moment to ready their stance. Ginny was a Quidditch player, not a dancer, and that didn't worry her until now.
She had nothing to worry about.
Draco led them in circles around the floor, his sure presence imbuing her with confidence and comfort. The moves were more stiff and formal than dancing at the pub on St. Patrick's Day, but regardless, dancing with Draco had the same familiarity as riding a broomstick after a serious injury. As if they'd been dancing together for years rather than twice in two months.
His hand at her lower back under his jacket warmed her and guided her. The pressure of his fingertips told Ginny all she needed to know about where they were going next, which direction to step. She felt like an instrument only he knew how to play, as if her skin were keys and how hard he pressed against her changed the volume of the music.
Their other hands were pressed together, palm to palm. Ginny couldn't stop thinking about that. She envied their hands, the lack of space between them. Draco twirled her around the floor, his body close, but not as close as she wished, and the world around them disappeared.
The tempo of the music picked up, and Draco worked her even harder, pushed her faster, spun her out and into his arms. Their breaths became more labored, their cheeks flushed. Every time Ginny thought she'd lose control of her feet and stumble, Draco was there ensuring she wouldn't misstep or fall. Her heart pounded in her chest, but their exercise wasn't the only cause of the palpitations. Every time Draco looked at her, her heart stumbled instead of her feet. And when his lips spread into a smile, tight-lipped as if he was trying to suppress it and failing, her stomach jumped.
Ginny hardly noticed when the music ended and she and Draco were chest to chest, both of his hands now on her waist to hold her steady, their panting breaths intermingling between them. She was sweaty under his jacket and that overactive imagination of hers slipped sideways into an illicit fantasy. What would he do if she took control of his hands and rubbed them all over her body right here on the dance floor? What would their audience think?
The scenes playing out in her mind were too indecent for the venue, and suddenly the regret of turning Draco down the morning after St. Patrick's Day overwhelmed her. She no longer cared if he was laughing at her, using her, teasing her. She should have called his bluff. She should have broken Holidating Rule #3 while she still could.
Now Draco was looking at her as if he'd never seen her before, his eyes wide and glittering and darting to look at every square inch of her face. She noticed when he lingered on her mouth, her heaving chest, and that observation sent a wave of heat straight down to her core. Awareness pulsed between her legs. She pressed her thighs together and nearly collapsed at the lack of feeling in her knees.
Draco's hands tightened on her, pulling her a little closer to him, nearly as close as their palms during that dance. She could see plain as day on his face how much he wanted what she wanted. But she also knew she had squandered her opportunity. Draco was too proud to beg, maybe even too proud to ask twice.
It disconcerted Ginny to realize she was not too proud at all. In fact, she was completely shameless. Here she was pressing herself against him, thinking filthy thoughts about his hands and how his fingers might fit inside her best after she'd already turned him down once. She was the one who had set a boundary between them. How dare she try to cross it?
Music began to play again, and she startled out of her thoughts. "I need some air," she said. Then without waiting for him, she turned in an arbitrary direction and escaped into the crush of people surrounding the dance floor, fighting her way to the other side so she could exit the tent and feel a breeze on her face. People watched her struggle and talked about her, but she couldn't hear their words over the sound of her blood singing in her arteries as it traveled away from important extremities to more interesting locations. Only when she was in the cool May air again did her head begin to clear and her body begin to calm.
She walked aimlessly away from the tent, trying to get the sound of laughter and whispers out of her ears. She was still wearing Draco's jacket and now that she was away from the press of people, she could tell it smelled just like him, though she'd never noticed his scent before. A little smoky, like he spent all his time sitting in front of a fire. A little sweet, like sugar and chocolate and all the saccharine things he loved to eat.
Bringing him had been such a terrible idea, and not for the reasons she had expected. Guilt had consumed her at the thought of how Draco might be treated by other guests and her part in bringing him to the gala. But now she realized the danger had been inside herself all along, in the temptation he presented. Something had happened on Easter when she'd watched him interact with Teddy and Victoire, even in his clumsy way. He had been uncomfortable, but he'd tried with them anyway.
And when he'd stood up for himself against her mum, he hadn't disrespected her. He'd acknowledged that Ginny's childhood had been different from his and that he had been wrong for ever thinking himself better than her family because of how differently he'd been raised. He'd acknowledged the value in that difference. He hadn't been rude to the woman Ginny loved most in all the world.
When she remembered the split-second of emotion that had shown on his face when her mum gave him his very own chocolate egg, a lump formed in her throat. She was pretty sure it was her heart trying to escape its cage.
What a bad idea this had been. There hadn't been enough time between Easter and Remembrance Day for her to control this weak, aching part of herself. It was too soon after Harry to feel like this, and she couldn't feel like this with someone like Draco. That was exactly why he'd been the perfect holidate for her. They weren't supposed to be in danger of lusting after each other because they were supposed to despise each other instead.
But Ginny didn't despise Draco, and she couldn't stop the lust from consuming her.
Her steps quickened, carrying her to the memorial walls. A look at the names engraved on those slabs of marble would give her some perspective. Or at the very least distract her before she acted on how she was feeling.
She came upon the first wall and scanned the engravings.
A chill raced down her spine that not even Draco's jacket could defend against at the sight of the first familiar name. Sirius had spent the last year of his life trapped inside his hated childhood home, miserable and resentful of not being useful. He'd died before his name could be cleared for a crime he hadn't committed. He'd never seen the future that he and all of his friends had fought and died for.
Her fingers brushed his name briefly before skipping over to the next one: Lavender Brown. Seventeen years old and gone from the world too soon. Not just gone, but viciously, violently taken by Fenrir Greyback's teeth and claws. Ginny let her sadness fill her up because it was easier to understand than what she'd been feeling before.
She moved on, searching for the next name on her mental list. She stopped near the end of the slab, and she couldn't even touch Colin's name when she found it. Her favorite memories of him from Hogwarts played through her mind instead of her last one, and even though this was the hardest name to look at on this wall, she smiled at it.
The smile froze as she heard a voice drifting toward her from behind the wall. The other side of this slab had more names engraved on it, last names that started with the letters D, E, and F. But the voice she heard wasn't talking about any of the casualties from the war.
The voice was Harry's and he was confessing his love.
For a moment, she thought he'd snuck up on her, thought maybe he was speaking to her. But she turned and no one was there, and his voice was still in her ears, his words wrapping around her gut and making it churn.
"I know we haven't been together long. We were barely together before, when we were just kids. I didn't understand what you needed from me back then, but I've grown, and I understand now. These last five months—"
Ginny's mind went blank, but her feet knew just what to do. They slowly carried her to the end of the wall so she could peer through the darkness behind it.
She saw Harry first. Well, his back. She knew it was him because she'd recognize the back of that messy hair anywhere. In the dark, in her sleep, in her dreams. She'd know him.
Whatever he was saying wasn't registering in her brain anymore, but his meaning was unmistakable when he dropped down to one knee and presented his hand up to a gasping, tearful Cho.
Ginny's feet also knew when to retreat. Her back was suddenly against the cold marble, her shoulder blades bracketing Colin's name. She slapped a hand over her mouth to stifle the sound coming out of it, the only sound she could hear anymore, the one that accompanied the ache in her chest, the heave in her throat.
Five months. Harry had been dating Cho for five months and he was already down on bended knee in front of her, offering her not only his heart, but his future. Something he'd never promised Ginny, not even after over seven years of dating. How had they become so serious? Harry hadn't even brought her to the Burrow for Easter, which had seemed like a sign that they weren't serious yet. Had she met Teddy? Their relationship was moving so fast, and Ginny had been completely clueless. Five months…. They started dating before New Year's. Is this what Harry had wanted to talk to her about at the Burrow on New Year's Eve?
Her breaths sawed out of her and Ginny blindly took off, needing as much space as possible between her and the scene she wasn't meant to witness.
She headed back toward the tent because she didn't know where else to go and didn't want to get caught by Harry and Cho when they emerged from the memorial walls and their cloud of bliss. The grounds were emptier, and the music had stopped. A part of her noticed Kingsley standing on a dais in the middle of the tent, his voice booming inside but muffled to her on the outside due to whatever charm had been placed on the tent.
Draco was suddenly in front of her, frowning. "Are you alright? I was looking for you."
Was she alright? No, she absolutely was not alright. She was in utter lust with Draco, but guilt for the way her body responded to him devoured her even as Harry moved on, choosing Cho to spend the rest of his life with, committing himself to her the way he'd never committed to Ginny. A sick sensation in her stomach rose up, threatening to climb up her throat and out of her mouth. Ginny was afraid she'd unleash tears, and that would not do, not at all.
"Ginny?" Draco said, bending just slightly to meet her eye, his frown deepening in concern. He grasped her upper arms, but Ginny couldn't feel his skin against hers because of his jacket.
She had to smother these feelings, and she only knew one way to do it.
Draco reeled back when Ginny threw herself at him, her fingers grasping at the front of his buttoned shirt to right his balance and tug him into her. He stiffened when she crushed her lips against his for a long moment that went unreturned. Just as she was about to step away, sick with regret now instead of grief, his palms cupped her face and held her in place. Ginny closed her eyes, waiting for his mouth to descend onto hers.
Instead, he tilted her head back, exposing her throat where her pulse pounded erratically and pressed his mouth there, his lips parting just enough for him to taste her skin. A shiver went shooting down Ginny's spine at the hesitant probe of his tongue. The trembling increased as he dragged his mouth up the column of her neck to the hinge of her jaw, just under her ear.
He paused when she made a sound, his lips leaving her skin and inviting in the cool night air. Ginny blinked, and Draco was watching her, his eyes heated, his cheeks pink.
"Don't stop," she said. Maybe she begged. If she hadn't been so shameless, she might have tried to hide her desperation from him.
Ginny rose up on her toes to reach his mouth, but he held her face firmly, keeping her grounded with his fingers curled around the back of her neck.
He stroked her cheeks with his thumbs and smirked at her. "So greedy."
How could she be greedy when he hadn't given her anything yet? She was just about to say that when he lowered his head.
This time, he participated fully. His lips were soft, applying firm pressure to hers until she shuddered out a breath. Her lips parting gave him an opportunity to tilt her head back even more, tilting her to the side so his mouth could slant over hers. Ginny was unsteady on her feet. She would have been scared of falling if one of his arms hadn't wrapped around her waist, pulling her flush against his hardness. She unclenched his shirt and moved her hands up to his shoulders, anchoring herself with his body because she was too shuddery to stand on her own.
She was completely off balance, both physically and emotionally. If Draco let go of her, she'd fall. If he held on even tighter, she might still fall. Ginny bit his lip and soothed the bite with her tongue, teasing him, urging him to really kiss her, to make her forget herself.
Draco froze. And then with a groan, he kissed her like he meant it. Kissed her as desperately as Ginny wished to be kissed. Kissed her like she was the only person he ever wanted to kiss. Kissed her like her mouth was chocolate and he couldn't get enough of her sweet taste. He licked her lips as if she were melting and he didn't want to waste a single drop of her.
His groan shot down Ginny's throat and straight into her stomach. Lower. Where was a flat surface when she needed one? Suddenly all she wanted was to be pushed up against a tree or a wall, for his weight to cover hers until she felt breathless and secure. But they were in the middle of Memorial Park, a party taking place in the lit up tent ahead and a proposal taking place at the memorial behind them.
No, no, she wasn't thinking about that. This was supposed to distract her from what she'd seen.
Draco's mouth wandered away from hers, returning to her racing pulse at her neck, and Ginny's knees nearly collapsed, so she held on tighter. Their harsh breaths put Ginny in mind of cool sheets and plump pillows and liquid heat. In her head, she was already in bed with him even though they were outdoors and still standing. She closed her eyes and let her imagination carry her away.
To make the fantasy really good, she needed more than his lips on her skin. Even more than his hand on her jaw, manipulating the angle at which he attacked her neck and mouth. More than the arm wrapped around her back, just above the curve of her arse. More than the stiff piece of his anatomy pressing against her stomach. She pried his arm from her waist and slid his hand up the side of her body, keeping it hidden under his jacket so that no other straggling guests would see where his hand was going. She plastered his palm over her breast, the sensation of his hot fingers on her goose-pimpled skin making her shiver hard. She wondered if he could feel her nipple straining against the material of her corset, or if she was the only one tortured by the knowledge of her reaction to him.
She urged him to squeeze her, but he seemed too shocked to close his fingers. With her free hand, Ginny tugged on the waistband of Draco's trousers, and his breathing became more erratic, like he couldn't get enough air.
"Wait," he said, his voice a hot rasp. "What are we doing?"
Ginny grinned at him, amused that she'd scrambled his brain so well. Hers was scrambled, too. "If I have to explain it to you, you might not be mature enough to do it."
Draco didn't laugh at her joke. He scowled and snatched his hand from her breast while the other restrained her wrist away from the front of his trousers in a grip that made Ginny's clit throb. She gulped, fantasies about being pinned down already plaguing her. The smile died on her face and her attention narrowed as Draco released her completely and took a healthy step back. He adjusted his waistband as if she'd messed it up somehow, but—no. He was making room for his erection. Ginny could see the outline of it straining his fly, even in the darkness.
She gulped and she burned, her blood rushing through her veins as if it had better places to be.
"What happened to you?" Draco asked, a bite in his voice Ginny didn't expect.
Shame finally washed over her, her cheeks heating as she fixed her corset to make sure nothing wasn't popping out that wasn't supposed to. Her face may have been hot with mortification, but the rest of her went ice cold. She drew the sides of Draco's jacket closed over herself both for warmth (impossible) and to hide (also impossible).
"I'm sorry. I saw Harry—"
"Potter?" Draco spat, his eyes widening in alarm, then narrowing in fury. "You kissed me because of Potter?"
Another wave of shame engulfed Ginny, but she tried to swim through it, tried to stay on top of it and ride it out.
"He proposed to Cho!" She threw an arm out and pointed behind her, toward the memorial as if that meant anything to him. "I found him proposing!"
"Wished it was you he was proposing to, did you?" he sneered.
That brought Ginny up short for a moment, because she realized…. No. What she'd witnessed hadn't filled her with envy because she longed to be in Cho's place. She was envious of Cho for a different reason. Harry loved her in a way he'd never loved Ginny—in a way no one had ever loved Ginny.
All of her brothers had found a love like that, and Ginny had thought she and Harry had found it in each other. She'd been horribly wrong and she still didn't understand how it had happened.
"Where are you going?" Ginny said as Draco stormed away from her, not toward the tent, but around the side of it. She followed him, keeping her voice low so they wouldn't attract attention away from the Minister giving his speech inside.
"Home," he said over his shoulder.
Ginny hiked up her skirt and lengthened her stride, but his legs were too long and he was determined to leave her behind.
"I don't understand why you're acting this way."
That made Draco turn on a Knut, making Ginny stop in her tracks lest she collide into him.
"You don't?" he challenged her, his expression dark and unforgiving. "You really don't understand?"
Draco's animosity toward Harry was infamous. She knew that. But Draco knew how Harry had hurt her, how difficult it was for her to face him. He'd been understanding about Easter and New Year's Eve. He'd even come to her rescue when she bumped into Harry and Cho on Valentine's Day. So why was he angry at her for reacting badly to seeing Harry propose to Cho? How could he not understand how she felt?
For a moment, she wondered if her actions had hurt Draco, but that wasn't possible. She could only hurt him if he had feelings for her, and they'd agreed when they began to holidate that it was impossible for them to develop feelings for each other.
"No," Draco seethed after enough of Ginny's silence. "I can see you don't understand at all."
"Help me understand, then!"
His brows rose in disbelief for a moment before he stormed closer to her. "Fine. Let's start with Holidating Rule #1."
"I haven't broken it!"
He towered over her now, using his height to intimidate her, though Ginny wasn't cowed. She was growing angry—at Harry for not loving her enough and breaking her heart, at Draco for not being sympathetic to her plight—and that meant she was ready for a fight.
Draco's voice lowered to a volume and tone that sent electricity through Ginny's shoulders. "You said you did not wish to offend each other's friends and families. That there was no need to provoke them because holidating each other would be provocation enough."
"Okay? Harry isn't my friend anymore and he's not my family."
"What about me?"
"What about you?" she snapped.
He leaned back, a frown creasing his brow, smoothing out the angry lines on his face and replacing them with something that made Ginny's heart plummet. Something she'd seen a glimpse of at the Burrow on Easter when he defended himself against her mum. Something Ginny wouldn't let herself name because then she'd have to acknowledge that Draco Malfoy was well and truly a human being with feelings tender enough to bruise.
"Aren't we friends? Don't you care about offending me? Provoking me?"
His response surprised her, almost enough to apologize for whatever she'd done to upset him. Until she remembered that Draco was using her for his amusement. If he cared so much about not offending each other as friends, then he should examine his own behavior first. "How can we be friends when you and Parkinson are laughing at me behind my back?"
He blinked, his expression comically blank, though Ginny wasn't in a humorous mood. "What are you talking about?"
"Parkinson told me on St. Patrick's Day that you told her all about us holidating, including all of our rules. My rules. The ones I came up with. I know you tell her about our holidates and laugh about how pathetic I am. I bet you'll go to her right after this and tell her how desperately I kissed you and you'll both laugh at me because my boyfriend wouldn't marry me after more than seven years, but he'd marry Cho after five months."
Tears stung Ginny's eyes, and she had to clench her fists to keep herself from drawing attention to them by wiping them away. Besides, she was tired of holding herself together for other people's sake. She was tired from being cordial to Harry and pretending she was content being single when she wasn't. She was drained trying to reassure her parents that she wouldn't be alone for the rest of her life when all she wanted was someone to reassure her that she wasn't doomed to die alone. She was exhausted at the thought of jumping back on the dating hippogriff with any hope she wouldn't get trampled again. Maybe she needed a seven year break before she could even think of approaching the hippogriff or coaxing it with a polite bow and an apple in hand.
Ron acknowledging that Ginny had a right to feel hurt—and not judging her if she decided to exact payment from Harry for her heartbreak—was the least exhausted she'd felt in months.
Well, next to those moments on her holidates with Draco when he made her forget that Harry even existed.
Draco stared at her, his face perfectly unreadable, composed in a mask that Ginny couldn't even begin to chisel through. Not that she wanted to. This—bringing Draco to the gala, maybe even their holidating agreement as a whole—had been one huge, horrendous mistake.
As if he'd read her mind, he said, "Maybe we shouldn't be holidates anymore."
Ginny's stomach lurched, rebelling against his suggestion. She blinked rapidly, urging her tears to go away. "Maybe we shouldn't," she agreed. If he wasn't paying close attention, maybe he'd even believe her.
He nodded once. Then he turned on his heel, retreating into the darkness, away from the tent and the light and the guests politely clapping at whatever had just been announced inside.
And that was that.
They were holidates no more.
"My, my. Wasn't that an interesting little display?" a voice behind Ginny said, followed by the scratching of a quill against parchment.
Ginny tensed, but she knew exactly who had snuck up behind her before she saw that putrid green quill and those cheap rhinestone glasses. Rita had gone all out for the gala in a gown of metallic magenta snake skin with a peacock feather collar surrounding half her head. Her notorious Quick-Quotes Quill and an unfurled scroll floated in the air beside her, poised to capture any salacious, decontexualized remark.
"I knew there wouldn't be anything juicy to report inside the party, but I never thought I'd come across the story of the year out here in the cold!"
"No comment," Ginny spat. She grit her teeth to stop herself from spitting a hex, too.
"Oh, no, dear, I wasn't looking for a comment. Don't need one; I heard plenty. Between Mr. Harry, Harry, Quite Contrary and Mr. Moneybags, I have enough content to milk your sad little love life for all it's worth."
Rita cackled and sauntered away. Ginny drew her wand, just to feel like she could do something if she really wanted to. Of course she wouldn't actually hex a woman with her back turned at a Ministry event attended by the most influential people in wizarding Britain…. Or would she?
No, she wouldn't. Ginny sighed and shoved her wand back into her pocket. She'd attended the gala to try to get ahead of any stories written about her, to maybe mend her reputation a little. She'd failed so miserably. She could too easily picture her shitty reputation swirling down the toilet.
Coming to the gala, bringing Draco... the worst idea she'd ever had. And now she was more alone than ever.
Author's Note: I've been getting a lot of comments about the tension/slow burn. I hope this helps! XD
If you want to know what Draco smells like… it's a s'more. Chocolatey, sugary, smoky from a fire. A S'MORE. I would have explicitly said so in the text but s'mores were created in the US and maybe aren't common in the UK? I don't know, Google was my reference. I wasn't sure if it would make sense for Ginny to know what a s'more is. So here you go.
Harry and Cho were paying respects to Cedric's memory via his name on the memorial wall when Harry decided to propose. I'm sure it was more romantic than it sounds.