Hush
By Diet Cigarette
"Why do you need to get close to Harry again, anyway? Why not just go for Longbottom?" Draco questioned as he took a seat upon the cushiony sofa, located in the second floor parlor. It was a lovely room, filled with neutral colors and fabrics of great expensive. Large, it housed two couches, facing one another, a few tables and stools off to the corners, and a massive book case leaned against the western wall.
"Harry's has Neville under his protection," She answered him, as she suddenly became quite aware of her usage of their first names, whilst Draco did not.
"Don't expect the 'I've gone good!' shit to work this time around, Snape already ruined that one," He furrowed his eyebrows at the mere mental thought of Severus Snape.
"He was a pitiful excuse for a death eater, Draco. He really was good, don't you recall?" She corrected him. "But I wouldn't be to quick to spat at his name, he did save your arse in your sixth year,"
"The Dark Lord would've given me a second chance,"
"But Dumbledore wouldn't of if he had lived, and you can't be to sure of that. Voldemort is unpredictable, you should know that by now."
"Yes, but don't you believe that they won't be so keen on allowing you back into their clique? You bloody murdered your own brother; are you dense?" Ginevra brought her index and middle finger to her lips, almost as if she had forgotten her initiation to the deadly group. It was plainly obvious he was changing the subject, but the argument was insignificant, and rather, this matter was far more important.
Death Eaters were more or less similar to any other muggle gang at that era. They had a leader, and the rules were, most likely than not, the same. One trait that seemed to be a habit in gangs was the deed that must be done to become a member. Murder.
It demonstrated loyalty, and ambition, as well as dedication to the tasks that would need to be performed in the future.
"I reckon you're right," She admitted, piercing her lips together in a slightly discouraging motion. Strolling forward, she plopped herself down upon the opposite sofa, so that she was facing Draco,. She sunk down, the down filling propping her up most comfortably.
"Disguise yourself, hell, I don't care, just don't mess this one up," He told her, entwining his fingers as he leaned forward so that his elbows were propped upon his knees.
She artificially grinned, her nose scrunching up with amusement. "Aw, will widdle Dracey Wakey miss me if I'm avada'ed?" She cooed, pretending to pinch at his cheeks, as an adult would a child. She seemed dully unconcerned with the future threat of death.
"Bloody hell, no, I'll finally have some peace and quiet 'round here," Draco commented, plainly attempting to sound serious though something in his tone gave away his intentions of playfulness in which Ginevra hadn't sighted in quite a long while.
Deviously, she cocked at eyebrow, "Oh, so you don't like noisy girls, I reckon?" Ginevra questioned, trying to hide the smile that was forcing itself to appear.
He smirked, stalling for time to form a comeback, "Unfortunately-"
She cut Draco off, a expression of enjoyment grazing her features, as it rarely did when she emerged from her shell in which she hid from the rest of the world since her fifth year in Hogwarts.
"What? Unfortunately you'll never know if I'm noisy?"
"I never said that," He corrected her, sitting up and straightening his posture.
"Oh, so you're suggesting that you know?"
"Oh, Weasley, I hear you, at night, in your room, all alone," He smirked, his misty gray eyes locking with her's momentarily. "Oh, oh Draco, harder," He mocked a feminine voice, taking his hand to his forehead in a dramatic gesture.
"Dreaming of you, my love," She sarcastically replied, and though he was aware of her joke, he took her seriously.
"I'm assuming you want the real thing?"
"Why do you think I dream of it?" At this point, they had both leaned forward, a devilish gaze in both their hollow pupils.
"Come and get it," He dared, the side of his lip raising just slightly in a sort of snarl. Though she should of took into thought what she was about to did, she in all honesty, believed it a waste of time. In a swift moment, she pressed her hand against his chest, pushing him backwards. She moved with him, the surprise in his expression was absolutely decadent when she pressed her chest against his own, the lips mere spaces apart.
Ginevra could feel his steamy breath against her rosy cheeks, sending a small tinge of chills down her spin. She bit down upon her lip, as she looked for a reaction in his expression. Draco raised his eyebrows in surprise, but nothing suggested he was disappointed as his rough hands snaked their way around her waist, drawing her closer so that she was forced to kneel, one leg to his left, the other to his right.
"Never could turn down a dare?" He questioned her, as she lowered her eyes to stare down upon his pale pink lips. She could feel herself trembling slightly under his grip, and she wiggled slightly to test her limits; if she could easily free herself.
"Don't act as if you know me," She told him, her gaze still held down upon his mouth. She could only guess how they would taste against her own, how easily they would move together.
"I know you better than anyone, even you can't admit that I don't," He said in a hushed, rough voice. She yearned to press against his body, kiss him with intensity, but something in the back of her mind held her back. That nagging little thought grew until she was mentally kicking herself for having such sexual thoughts of her roommate.
A battle raged through her thoughts, but she remained in his grasp.
"Like right now, I know you're practically melting at my touch," He smirked, bringing one of his hands to softly cup her cheek, and lifting up so that she was forced to tear her gaze from his lips to his eyes.
"Just like I know you're growing ever more excited beneath me?" She questioned him, playing his game and attempting to get the ball back in her court.
"You wanted to real thing," Draco reminded her, his fingers tracing her jaw line with exceptional ease.
"I was joking,"
"No, you weren't," He, again, corrected her with the look of lust growing more and more intense as he watched her investigate every feature upon his face. Removing her hand from his chest, and placed it against his cheek as he had done to her, relaxing so that she easily sat herself upon his lap, straddling his waist.
Ginevra could feel the hoarse starting hairs at his chin, and she smiled softly, something she hadn't brought herself to do in ages. "You need to shave," Draco seemed to ignore her comment, his hand traveling from her cheek to the back of her head, grasping a handful of her red locks into his palm.
He pulled her forward, crashing her lips against his in a piercing kiss, his lips moving just slowly over her's with steroidal force, yet, in the simplest of ways, it reminded her of the most gentlest of touches she'd ever felt.
She grinded forward against his pelvis once, expressing a sense of sensual unison; his need for her growing intensely harder with every movement. She, taking the initiative, pushed her tongue past his lips, exploring territory in which she'd never been, but had imagined so clearly many times in the past.
He yanked gently at her hair, increasing her arousal with the hint of pure amusement. Her heart was beating with ferocity as the heat between them increased. She could only smile through their motions as she could feel him growing lustful ever more beneath her.
"I should go," She muttered, her words barely getting out as his powerful arms pulled her closer in objection.
"No," He said in reply, but quickly stopped, realizing his actions were demonstrating the powers she had over him at that moment, sexually or emotionally, he needed no one. He loosened his grip from her, as she pushed herself up, smiling weakly with confusion.
With a swift hast, she danced a crossed the room, and to her quarters in which she couldn't wipe the bashful smile off her face.
"What should I do?" Ginevra questioned, looking at Draco a crossed the dining table. Conversation dared not venture further to revolve around their moment of passion earlier that week. Two days had passed, two awkward days.
"I told you…before," He reminded her, tracing the edge of his plate with his fork, avoiding her gaze intently, "Disguise yourself,"
"As who? He's not likely to trust anyone that just walks up to his door," She argued, her eyebrows furrowed in thought as her vision wandered to the ceiling, suddenly quite interested in the ceiling tiles.
"Lovegood? That mudblood?" He suggested, bringing the fork, loading with almost nothing, to his lips.
She shrugged, "I have to admit, you're actually coming out useful," She cracked, smiling just slightly, looking down to the chewing man a few feet from her.
"You expected otherwise?" She questioned, tilting his head up to meet her gaze. For a moment, Ginevra was desperate to look away, to give in to her urge, but her head didn't move. Neither did his.
"I had my doubts," She admitted, her voice soft and barely audible.
"Really?" His eyebrows rose up for a moment in curiosity.
"Really," She confirmed.
"So, my quite clever ideas changed your mind?" He questioned, attempting to not only keep the conversation alive, but almost, he seemed to care.
"Not only," She shrugged slightly, giving a bit of motion, "I suppose you give me something to look at,"
Um, I was going to make it longer, honestly, but hey, I'm updating faster than normal, right? Next chapter is coming up, it's going to be more action and Ginevra getting Neville, etc, etc.