Nothing belongs to me.
LV: Craft
I have my ways. Draco didn't like the sound of those words.
"What are you going to do?" he asked finally, after minutes of hush. "Torture me?"
She turned back towards him, "Precisely."
Draco sneered. "So you think you've mastered the craft of torture, have you Weaslette?"
"I have a name, you know." she snapped peevishly. "It's Ginny. And, yes, I do believe I've mastered the art."
"What are you going to do? Stay here and disgust me until I crack?"
"Something like that, yeah."
Draco snorted, staring up at the woman who now towered over his chair. He stopped abruptly however when she bent over him, pressing her lips against his own.
He had never expected this, any of it – one, for her to kiss him, two, for him not to be revolted, and lastly three, for him to actually like it.
Before Draco could respond properly though, she had pulled away, a smirk dancing on her lips.
His heart pounded, and he watched anxiously as she straightened up, twisting away from him again.
All he could see now was her bum, hidden beneath the tight material of the green dress she wore; Draco didn't mind the view.
Before he knew it, she stood facing him once more. This time, though, she took it a step further: Ginny sank into his lap.
He groaned, wondering why his hands had to be strapped uselessly to the arms of this chair.
"Why are you sitting on me?" he asked stupidly.
"Draco." The single word was a command. Her hands roamed shamelessly across his chest, lingering at the buttons on his shirt.
"Yes?" he murmured, a little scared.
"Shut up."
He obeyed, ready this time as she pulled him into a searing kiss.