Needing Is One Thing; Getting? Getting's Another

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Prompt: "Anonymous asked: Prompt: The Needing is One Thing drabble series (If you can continue, of course): Ginny talks with Draco before the date with Hermione, he's very happy because he really likes Hermione, and it seems that Hermione really likes him too, he tells her about the sex he had with Hermione. Ginny feels sad, they get drunk, and Ginny kisses Draco, but then she realised what she has done, she apologies and Draco cheers her up, and he introduces Blaise to her :)"

Draco: Part 1

Fall 2004

"Draco?"

Surprised, he straightened from the vanity mirror he'd been using – one of Daphne's – to check his teeth. He'd come over for a brief moment to congratulate Daphne on her pregnancy, and after this he was taking Hermione to a restaurant. They'd been dating for over six months, now, and things were going surprisingly well.

He'd really thought she'd be through with him by now, but in a shocking twist to everyone involved, she actually seemed to like him. She hadn't returned his confession of love, yet, and he didn't think she'd do it anytime soon. She was too careful, too exact.

But he was a patient man.

He smiled at Ginny. "Hello, Weaselette," he said, with a faint, friendly smirk. They'd barely spoken since he'd started dating Hermione, but he'd missed their talks.

She summoned a wry smile, pointing at his tie. "Date?"

"Yes," he answered, pretending not to see the flicker of hurt that flashed in her eyes at that one, simple word. He'd never wanted to hurt her. Looking back on their – how long was it, a whole year, almost? – time talking at all those parties made him cringe. He could see why she'd thought him flirtatious. To be fair, he was being flirtatious – it was just that Ginny, being as removed from proper high society as she was, had never learned the difference between friendly flirtations and serious ones.

Not that he'd flirted, seriously or otherwise, with Hermione Granger, but Hermione was the sort of girl that tended to have all the rules broken when it came to interacting with her at all.

"Good. I'm happy for you," she said, and he could tell that she was sincere, even though she sounded miserable. "Did you… you know?" She gestured crudely with her hands. "Yet?"

He huffed a laugh, but couldn't resist the brag. "Of course," he said. And, seeing the curiosity spark in her gaze, he added, "It's… amazing."

"You really love her, don't you?" she asked, wonderingly.

He hesitated. He hadn't told anyone else that, save Hermione. But finally he squared up and said, plainly, "Yes, I do."

She smiled through the pain. "Good." Then she was gone.


Given that she'd broken the ice, he cautiously approached her at the next party. She smiled at him, and it seemed happy, although maybe that was the vodka in her. "Weaselette."

"Mal-turd," she retorted, and he laughed.

"That was terrible. Is that the best you've got?"

She racked her brain. "Smell-foy."

Chuckling, he took up a spot beside her. "Better," he said, although still chidingly. "But you've clearly lost some of your bite, all these months without my damning influence. I'll take partial blame for that. Thirty percent at the most, mind."

"Thirty percent of the blame?" she protested. "Sod off, you little wanker, that was all you." She was laughing, though, and he grinned.

After a moment, she settled, and added, quietly: "I missed you."

He nodded. "Yeah," he agreed.

They both took long pulls from their respective drinks, watching the party commence around them. Hermione was still getting into it with Zabini at every opportunity, and it was possibly the most animated Draco had seen the man in a long, long time. Something about her, he supposed. There was just something about that curly-haired little termagant that was magnetic.

Ginny grabbed his arm, and he tore his gaze away from the two of them to raise an eyebrow at her. She nodded towards the dining room, indicating that he should follow her, and darted out of the kitchen.

Curious, he followed her – all the way down into the basement.

It had been redone into some sort of game room. The ceiling was enchanted to look like the stars, and he instantly wondered if it was Hermione's doing. She'd always been so enraptured with the Great Hall's enchantments. "What, you want to play billiards?"

"Billiards?" she scoffed. "No one calls it that anymore. Join the 21st Century, Smellfoy."

"Using the insult twice doesn't improve it," he snorted, turning to set his drink down. When he turned back to grab a pool cue, she was right in front of him, her eyes half-lidded. Startling a bit, he stared at her. "Weaselette?"

"Do you ever wonder?" she asked, softly. He could feel her breath on his lips.

"Wonder what?"

"About us," she breathed, and then she was kissing him.

His eyes widened, and his immediate panicked thought was: I cannot let Hermione see me like this. At this point, he knew her far too well to think that she could be reasoned with if she saw him snogging her best friend. She'd excommunicate them both from her life.

Spurred on by that knowledge, he shoved Ginny roughly away, breathing hard. "What are you doing?" he demanded, angrily.

She stared at him, utterly shaken. After a moment, she started to tremble, her expression crumbling a bit. "Oh, Merlin," she whispered, a sob wracking through her. "Oh, Merlin, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't– I'm so sorry– don't tell her, please–"

Blinking at the transformation, Draco glanced at the basement stairs. No one in sight. "Calm down," he said, softly, and gathered her into his arms.

She buried her face into his chest, crying, and he swallowed a bit. This was almost as bad as the kissing. Because if Hermione walked in and saw this, she'd probably assume he'd said something mean and then hex his bollocks off, and he was extremely attached to those. He had to turn this around, and quickly, before anyone stumbled in and saw the two of them.

"Hey, listen," he said, scrambling around for something to say. Finally, he said, "Why do Potter's glasses look like he picked them up at a convenience store when he's arguably one of the richest men in Britain? I think they're even bent a little at the ears."

She giggled, wetly, and he almost collapsed in relief.

He continued, "You'd think he'd at least get them professionally straightened back out. It looks like he laid them on the kitchen table and took a rock to them."

Laughing, Ginny pulled away, wiping her eyes.

Draco examined her, still a bit wary. "Okay?" he asked, quietly.

Sniffling, she nodded. "Sorry," she repeated, although more evenly, this time. "I was just… being drunk and very, very stupid."

"Well, those two things usually go hand in hand, so… don't worry about it."

"Draco?" Hermione called from upstairs.

He froze a bit, glancing up the basement stairs, and sent Ginny a searching look. She shook her head, still wiping her eyes, and shooed her hand at him. "Go, go. I just need a minute to not look like a hot mess," she assured him. "Go ahead."

Grabbing his drink, he headed up the stairs, resolved not to be alone with a drunk Ginny for a good long while. Maybe she needed another six months to cool down.

Or at least a new boyfriend.

Mentally, he began to catalog everyone he knew that was currently unattached. He usually left the matchmaking to his mother, but this was an emergency situation.