January 3rd, 2018
Author's Notes: This chapter only took so long because I was adding in a smutty bit and it was so difficult to write? ? I'm so sorry. The smutty bit isn't even in the FFN version of this story, so if you want to read it, you'll have to hop over to AO3! The rest of the story is finished so updates will not take NEARLY as long as this one did. Thank you for your patience, and I hope you enjoy the chapter! Reviews appreciated!

Malfoy's Patented Daydream Scheme

Chapter Six: The Climax

Ginny had devoted the rest of her day to the store and reassuring George that everything was running smoothly. Of the twins, he had always been a little less laid back, the one who had thought things through and planned after Fred had come up with their schemes, so it didn't surprise Ginny that he was so critical of the job she was doing. Fred and George had been two halves of a whole; they'd worked in tandem, thinking the same thoughts without having to say them aloud. Ginny might have been family, and George certainly trusted her with his business, but it would take a little longer for her to convince him it was in good hands.

Assuaging George's fears had been a needed distraction, but after he'd gone and after she'd closed up the shop, Ginny had finally allowed herself to think about her meeting with Malfoy. Her stomach fluttered at the memory of his low voice requesting a demonstration of the daydream charms, knowing the request had merely been a pretense.

Hadn't it?

She'd run a brush hurriedly through her hair and discarded her work robes for a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, and by the time she threw a handful of Floo powder into her fireplace, her heart was pounding in anticipation.

Malfoy was waiting for her when she stepped out of the Floo, a tray of tea and food sitting out on the coffee table once more. He uncrossed his legs and stood up as she dusted herself off, a hand reaching for her to help her out of the fireplace as he said, "You came."

"You asked me to come, didn't you?" Ginny said, smiling. Malfoy stood frozen, his gaze intent on her and her hand trapped within his grasp. A hint of pink stained his cheeks, which she attributed to the amber liquid in the glass that sat next to the tea service.

"Yes, of course," he said, finally letting Ginny go to gesture for her to sit. He indicated the armchair, not the sofa on which he had been awaiting her arrival.

Ginny's smile grew. Maybe the flush in his face had less to do with the spirits he was consuming and more to do with his constitution. Seeing him nervous made Ginny more bold, and the anxiety she'd harbored and ignored most of the day evolved into an excitement that settled in her stomach. She wasn't sure that she had ever seen Malfoy cautious like this. It made her wonder if he had regretted his smooth demeanor in the shop earlier that day and now wished for distance, or maybe he had exhausted the extent of his charm.

Ginny ignored his pointed gesture at the armchair and took a seat on the sofa, her knee just brushing his.

"Would you like a drink? Tea?" he asked, not quite meeting her eyes.

"I'll have what you're having." Ginny plucked his glass off the coffee table and took a healthy sip as he watched her, eyes wide in shock before a smile of appreciation curled along his lips.

Ginny coughed on her sip and smacked her chest. "Seriously, what is this? Dirty water?"

His smirk made Ginny reconsider stealing his glass and wonder at the contents of it. "It's the Hog's Head's finest brew, which of course means it's pure shite."

"You drink this stuff regularly?"

He shrugged. "Whatever gets me drunk as quickly as possible."

"Is there a reason you're trying to get drunk now?"

His smirk faltered, and though Ginny didn't expect an answer, she was surprised to receive one.

"The Hog's Head's bartender calls that particular brew Liquid Courage, and I thought I'd be in need of it tonight."

In the silence that met that statement, Ginny looked at Malfoy—really looked at him. He dressed immaculately, from the style of his hair (slicked back, just as he'd worn it as a student at Hogwarts) down to his shoes (shined to a high polish). The dusk gray robes he wore flattered his figure, even while sitting down. Silver embroidery accentuated the seams along his shoulders, drawing the eye to the breadth of his frame. A high collar and long sleeves should have made him look stuffy and severe, but instead they gave him a distinguished appearance. The effect must have been intentional considering he taught students not much younger than him and he required their respect in the classroom.

In comparison, Ginny was a raggedy mess in her rumpled Muggle clothes and smudged makeup. She took another gulp of Liquid Courage before setting the glass aside and meeting Malfoy's eyes.

"Am I safe in assuming you need no demonstration of the daydream charms?"

Somehow, his eyes seemed to darken. "Yes."

"Fantastic," Ginny said, and then she grabbed Malfoy and pulled him close enough to kiss.

This time he responded immediately, his hands going to Ginny's waist and yanking her into his lap. She pressed him into the back of the sofa, closing the distance between their bodies so that she felt his every breath and every beat of his heart.

Ginny's blood pounded in her veins, sending the alcohol shooting to her extremities until her shoulders began to tingle, either from the effects of half a glass of cheap spirits or his kisses. Most likely both.

It was startling how well they fit together, how right it felt to occupy his lap, to have his hands on her, the taste of him on her tongue. She didn't protest when his mouth dragged down her neck and his nose nudged the material of her T-shirt aside. No, there would be no protestations on her part. She encouraged him by grasping a fistful of hair, not to tug him away or shove him down, but to hold on, just to let him know she needed that anchor, otherwise she would float away like smoke escaping a chimney, like bubbles rising to the surface of a glass of champagne.

Her body turned into liquid as his hands burrowed underneath her shirt and found skin, searching for his own anchor until he found it in her breasts. Warm fingers trailed over her bra, teasing her with light touches she could barely feel through her undergarments.

"Yes," Ginny said as her head fell back. "I've been thinking about this since I saw those photographs."

He had shoved her shirt up to her neck at this point, and he stiffened and spoke against the sensitive curve of her breast. "You'll be disappointed then, I'm afraid."

Mischief danced in her eyes. "Only one way to find out."

She pushed Malfoy away from her, both of them groaning at this new distance. Malfoy's groan turned into something a little more guttural when Ginny began unbuttoning his robes, but he sat back, his hands loose on her waist as she unclothed him, pushing his robes off his shoulders to bunch at his waist, hindered by his sitting position and Ginny residing on his lap.

She eyed his chest and ran her hands over him, watching in fascination as the muscles in his stomach jumped, and a laugh burst out of her, causing Malfoy to tense.

"What?" he bit out, the word more of a bark than a question.

"You said those photos were edited!"

"They were."

"I assumed that meant you didn't have a chiseled torso."

His brow creased in annoyance. "I don't."

"Malfoy," Ginny said, mirth dripping from his name, "what do you call this, then?" She tickled his abdominals, enraptured by the flutter in the muscles there.

"Those photographs were exaggerated! They're a caricature of my body, not a true likeness! They even erased my Dark M—"

The laughter of their exchange died just as the phrase died on Malfoy's tongue. He didn't have to finish his sentence; Ginny knew exactly what he was talking about.

At his trial after the war, she had seen for herself that Malfoy had been branded with the Dark Mark—Malfoy had even mentioned it at the Hog's Head a few days before—but years had passed since the trials. Malfoy had kept quiet and stayed out of the press. And then he'd earned the prestigious title of Bachelor of the Year, and Ginny had been so distracted by his shirtless photos, she'd completely forgotten his skin wasn't supposed to be as flawless as Witch Weekly's photographer suggested.

Strangely enough, the thought of the Dark Mark did not turn her away. It should have. Malfoy's slip of the tongue should have been a reminder of who he was and what he'd done. Instead, Ginny found her hands traveling up to his shoulders, down his arms, to his wrists. She jerked his left arm forward and twisted it until his forearm was visible, and Malfoy let her do it. He didn't try to snatch his arm away, didn't try to hide what couldn't remain hidden.

There it was on the inside of his forearm. Not sick and black, as she'd thought it would be, but slightly puckered and pink, like a scar. Honestly, it only stood out because he was so pale. With a different complexion, it might not have been noticeable at all.

"Well," Malfoy said, voice flat, eyes flat, everything about him shuttered, as if anticipating a tropical storm and seeking shelter within himself. "Does this change anything?"

She climbed off his lap and didn't fail to notice him flinch. Then Ginny pulled him up with her, his unbuttoned robes falling to the floor, leaving him in his boxers and socks and shoes. Before he could flee, she reached for the hem of her shirt and yanked it over her head, dropping it on the floor. Just as she'd done at the shop earlier that day, she never broke eye contact with him, rooting him to the spot.

His gaze flickered down to her breasts and back up, as if he wasn't sure what he was supposed to do and feared offending her.

That brought a smile to Ginny's lips, amusement washing over her at his typical male reaction to a half-naked woman. She took his left hand again and placed it on her breast. "No," she said. "It changes nothing."

Malfoy's face lit up—that's the only way Ginny could describe it. A grin overwhelmed his expression, clearing the lines in his forehead, erasing the stubborn brackets at the corners of his mouth, smoothing his features until he looked younger and more carefree than she'd ever seen him. Certainly this was the least curmudgeonly he'd looked to her since running into him and Neville in the Hog's Head last month. Ginny was nothing short of startled by the difference in him and intrigued by his reaction.

When Malfoy lifted her from her feet and whisked her off to the bedroom, all she could do was laugh, infected by his sudden and unexpected joy. He placed her on his bed and stepped back, toeing out of his shoes and socks with boy-like urgency.

Ginny would have liked a moment to look him over, to compare the reality of Draco Malfoy's body to his photographs, but Draco climbed onto the bed before she could voice an objection. She had no objection anyway. As he stretched out over her, his mouth reattaching to hers as if Summoned, she couldn't help but approve of his physical proximity. The feel of his body pressing her into the bed, the weight of him, the warmth—

Yes, much more preferable to looking at a few photographs.

Large hands traced the outline of her with gentle caresses that drove Ginny mad. In contrast, she dug her fingers into his back, reveling in his hiss when her fingernails bit a little too fiercely into his skin. Instead of withdrawing, he got the message and became a little less gentle, a little more demanding.

For instance, one moment Ginny was wearing a bra, and then her bra was mysteriously missing, Vanished without a sound, without a wand. Her gasp brought a smirk to his lips, but only until his mouth descended upon her. A laugh and a groan escaped Ginny's throat, her hands coming up to clutch his head, pulling him closer, begging him for more with her wanton sighs.

A strangled moan filled the bedroom as Malfoy moved to meet the demands of Ginny's body. "This is better than a fantasy," he said, his eyes closed, head hanging as though overwhelmed.

Warmth flooded Ginny's chest, and she reached up to push some of Malfoy's hair out of his eyes, gently stroking his cheek as she considered him. Between her legs, within her arms, his whole body trembled.

"Is it?"

Eyes still closed, Malfoy nodded.

Ginny wasn't sure what kind of lover she had expected Malfoy to be. The expression captured within his Witch Weekly photoshoot suggested a man of experience and skill. The nervousness and flushed cheeks in his sitting room revealed a man lacking both. She supposed she'd assumed he'd be greedy and rough, as self-absorbed as she'd found him to be in person. And yet she'd still accepted his invitation, knowing where it would lead. Sex was sex. It was something fun to do with an unexpected person on a cold night.

But this was something else to Malfoy. Something more. She could tell how special it was to him in the way he kissed her, lips dragging across hers with tenderness and curiosity, pulling away too soon in uncertainty. She could taste his pleasure on his tongue. She could feel his delight in his shaking limbs, in the press of him against her core. Not demanding. Not impatient. Just feeling sensations—that he had never felt before?

Ginny grinned. Maybe he was inexperienced, or maybe his previous encounters had been dreadful. Either way, with Ginny he was sweet and eager, and it reminded her to slow down.

"If you think this is good, just wait," she said.

She wondered what kind of life Malfoy had lived since the war that had led him to crave this kind of love, and then she decided not to wonder—she could simply give it to him instead.

Ginny startled awake from a fragmented dream, the details of which began to fade as soon as she tried to recall them, though the mood she woke up to suggested she had been enjoying it. She took in her surroundings through bleary eyes, noting the stone walls and the male body wrapped around her with interest until the full details of the previous night returned to her.

Oh, right, she and Malfoy had slept together. That explained her sore muscles and lack of clothes.

A grin stretched across her face as she turned in Malfoy's arms, remembering with delicious clarity how those arms had held her, pulled her close, pinned her down. Malfoy was using Ginny's breast as a pillow, and though she loathed to take it away from him, she needed to get back home so she could shower and open the shop.

She carefully extricated herself from Malfoy's grip and climbed out of bed, following her trail of clothes until she was fully dressed in the sitting room once more. A violent grumble in her stomach alerted her to her lack of dinner the previous night, and Ginny wondered if it was early enough to grab a quick bite from the Great Hall before anyone noticed her presence. Just in and out… If she was fast, she might not bump into anyone she knew.

There was only one other door in the sitting room besides the bedroom door, and upon opening it, Ginny found herself in what must have been Malfoy's office, if the desk was any indication. In front of the desk and occupying the most space sat a large workbench, on top of which three cauldrons simmered. She approached them and peered inside each cauldron, stopping to read the notes Malfoy had left sitting out next to the third cauldron.

Try Sleeping Draught recipe using chamomile instead of lavender to compare quality of sleep and ability to dream.

Poppy seeds as a mild sedative to supplement chamomile/lavender, may allow for dreaming without sleep, replicating the "daydream" effect of the charm.

Mugwart for dreaming—ground, infused, boiled, diced. Test: petals vs. stem. Research other hallucinogenic ingredients and how to use them to manipulate fantasy scenarios.

Ginseng to reduce stress and enter daydream state? Boil for longer period to increase dream longevity?

Ginny frowned and picked up the parchment, reading over it again. Despite Slughorn's praise, she hadn't been an exceptional Potions student, but she'd been decent enough to earn an Acceptable in her NEWTs. Even the poorest Potions student would be able to see that these notes suspiciously detailed the effects of WWW's Patented Daydream Charms.

A sound at the door made her look up to find Malfoy standing just inside the office wearing some pajama trousers and nothing else. She couldn't help but rake her gaze over him from head to toe, a flush warming her as she remembered how well that body had moved against her the previous night. Even now, the desire to lead him back to bed or shove him against a wall overwhelmed her, but she clenched her hands into fists, and the parchment crumpled slightly in her grip.

"What is this?" she asked, a note of hurt tingeing her words.

Maybe he hadn't heard that note, maybe he didn't recognize it, because instead of looking guilty or defensive, Malfoy's face brightened. "My newest project." He came to the workbench and stood on the other side of it, across from her. "I got the idea from your daydream charms."

"Malfoy," Ginny said with a shake of her head, "those charms are patented. Are you trying to steal my brothers' idea?"

His eyebrows drew together in confusion. "Steal? The charm is patented. Unless you've got a version in the form of a potion, I'm not stealing anything. I simply thought—"

"You thought? No, I don't think you thought at all!"

He took a step back, his expression flickering before he shut down entirely, his face cool and aloof, completely unreadable.

In the wake of his reticence, Ginny waved the notes at him. "Was this your plan all along? Did you seduce me so you could get production secrets out of me and cash in on one of my brother's most popular products?"

Malfoy's mask cracked at her accusation, outrage leaking out as he grit his teeth and clenched his fists. "Seduce you? You are the one who seduced me! 'What's it look like, Malfoy? I'm making your fantasy come true!'" He threw her words back at her, twisting them in mockery, shaming her for her wanton behavior.

Well, Ginny was ashamed. She'd been fooled by edited photos, what had apparently been a falsely contrite interview in a gossip rag, and a soft demeanor in the bedroom. She'd let herself see Malfoy as a changed person just because she'd found him attractive, willfully forgetting what a nasty git he was and always had been, and all along he'd been using her in order to take something that belonged to her brother. Now that she managed one of George's stores, that meant he'd tried to take something from her, too.

She'd been an utterly romantic fool, and in her humiliation, she turned heel and fled.