Constant Arguments By: VictoriaTai Rating: PG-13 (or soft R) Disclaimer: If I owned Harry Potter, I would have a harem of gorgeous men. I see no harem. Summary: The Bat Bogeys were only the start. Draco and Ginny bicker and argue like no pair Hogwarts has seen in years, but the arguments rising in infamy may merely be a cover for something entirely different. Note: This was a silly little one-shot of blowing off smutty steam as I write a much longer fic. Enjoy.

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"Blow it out your ear, Malfoy! You insignificant spitwad."

"Insignificant? That’s rich, coming from a peon like you, Weasley."

"You really think you’re clever, don’t you, ferret-face?"

"I am, as always, a slave to popular opinion."

"Ooh. Stick these up your ass, you absolute sod!"

The voices echoed spectacularly in the stone hallway and Ron heard every word, shouted or spoken. He raced towards their point of origin, Hermione at his side, until he arrived at an open door. With one hand on the frame, he stopped himself short and spun around to look inside, Hermione skidding past and doubling back mere seconds behind him.

Standing in the center of the room, hands flat on a desk, was his favorite sister, Ginny. Her hair was disheveled, curls standing on end and dancing around her face, and her cheeks were a brilliant pink. Her eyes flashed dangerously, her mouth creased into a tight line, and the arms she braced herself with seemed to tremble. She appeared somewhat short of breath as her chest heaved and she leaned forward, obviously not done shouting.

Her target stood just on the other side of the desk, looking only slightly less rumple than she. Draco Malfoy would have been scandalized to realize that, but now he only sat on another desk, arms crossed carelessly in front of him as he leveled the fuming redhead with a dismissive glare and his usual cocky sneer. "My, my, Weasley," he drawled lazily. "What would your dear mother say if she heard you now? I would think even she could raise you better than that."

That did it. "Shove it, Malfoy!"

Ginny turned to stare in shock at her brother who seemed to have materialized right out of thin air and into the doorway. Now he was the one seething, his eyes narrowed and the tips of his ears going red. Behind him Hermione also glared, but she had grabbed onto his elbow as if to preemptively stop him from attacking the blond sitting calmly across the room.

"Ron," Ginny spat, her mood transferring from one boy to the other. "Piss. Off."

"Get out of here, Ginny," he replied, his voice dismissive as he started to roll up his sleeves. "Let me take care of this."

Hands on her hips, she turned and glared. "You will not!" she ordered. "I can fight my own battles, Ronald Weasley, and when I say to leave me alone, you will!" She was shouting by the time she finished, irate with him now. "I don’t need to you back me up all the time. I can take care of myself!"

Hermione gave her a careful look. "Are you sure, Ginny?"

"Goddamnit!" she roared, looking every part the Gryffindor lion. "I’m sure!"

Nodding, she tugged at Ron’s elbow. "Let’s go."

Ron wasn’t moving. "I will not!"

"Listen to your mangy sister and your Mudblood girlfriend," Draco said, his voice as careless as always. The side of his mouth curled upwards in the smirk that launched a thousand ships—or so he liked to think. "The Weaslette can always come running to you later, if she’s still in one piece."

Ron made as if to start forward, his hands already outstretched for Malfoy’s neck, but Ginny kicked the door shut in his face.

From where they stood, the rooms’ two occupants could hear muffled arguing in the hall. Someone—probably Ron—punctuated each of his or her points with a kick to the door that would most certainly leave dents. His emotional state could be read from their varying depths, each one deeper than the last. But Hermione must have won fairly quickly because the voices faded after less than a minute and there was silence in the almost-abandoned classroom.

Ginny, a worried look on her face, still stood facing the door. "Think it worked?"

Then she jumped a mile high as arms nimbly wrapped themselves around her waist and a pair of warm lips began to work their way down the side of her neck. "I should hope so," he mumbled against her flesh, his hands tugging at the tails of her shirt until they were free and his fingers could run along the smooth skin of her stomach. She giggled.

"Admit it," she said, trying to hide her shortness of breath. "She keeps Ron away so it’s not so bad that Hermione found out about us."

His hands worked nimbly with her shirt, undoing one button and then the next. "You called me ‘ferret-face’," Draco muttered, the nipped at her earlobe. He was pleased to hear her swift intake of breath and even more please at the way she settled back against him. "I’m not going to admit anything until you apologize."

"You called Hermione a ‘Mudblood’ and you insulted my mother," she pointed out. "You promised me you’d stop doing that, so we’re even." His fingers dropped to run lightly up the side of her leg just as he nipped not so gently at the junction of her neck and shoulder. Ginny felt like she was swiftly descending to become no more than jelly and wondered if she could ever stay even the slightest bit angry with him. She decided fairly quickly that the answer was no.

Draco was having far too much fun to take her—or himself—completely seriously. "You got mad at me the last time I called Potter ‘Scarhead’ too," he pouted, one hand returning to her stomach but the other drifting high and to the inside of her thigh where his fingers made little circles over her skin. "And you promised me that I could still stick with at least one nickname."

The arm around her waist tightened just a little bit and Ginny realized that he wasn’t going to let her turn around and kiss him until she relented. He wasn’t going to let her turn around and do anything until she relented—not for her or for his benefit. Well, she decided, her breath hitching in her throat as his hand came that much higher, two can play at that game. "If I remember correctly," she whispered sweetly, reaching up behind her to trial her nails down his neck. "You called him ‘Scarhead, that fucking little sod’. Not exactly part of our agreement."

Draco swore under his breath as she shifted her hips back against his, her body swaying just enough to grind into his own just how she knew he liked it best. He would be strong, he would be strong, he would—the feel of her nails tracing their way down his neck sent shivers racing down his spine and his hand left her leg to join the other and make short work of her shirt. "Gin, why do you drive me crazy like this?" he whispered into her bare shoulder, one hand sliding under the hem of her skirt while the other brushed over her breast.

She responded with a push of her hips backward into his and a giggle escaped her, followed by a sharp moan as his wandering fingers found her nipple. He was wearing far too much, she decided as her skirt hiked up higher and the backs of her thighs brushed against his trousers. He was wearing too much and they were both getting much more frustrated than was necessary. If he would just let her turn around she could put a stop to that—to both—immediately. "Draco," she hissed between her teeth as his hand continued to massage her breast and the other teased her high on her inner thigh. "You think I’m driving you crazy?"

As if reading her thoughts he grasped her by one hip, spun her around, and pulled her flush to him, their bodies touching from almost head to toe. Out of the corner of his eye he checked the alarm he had set up—it was silent and still, there was no one in even a nearby corridor. Before his mind could even finish this as a coherent thought, Ginny had stood up on the tips of her toes and fastened her mouth to his, her tiny teeth nibbling on his lower lip. He softly moaned her name, her real name, as her tongue slipped into his mouth and he was in such a hurry to get this stupid tie off that his hands kept fumbling with it.

Giggling into his mouth, she slapped his hands away and made short work with his tie before continuing down to the buttons on his shirt. She pushed the white material open, her nails now trailing down his chest and his hands found their purchase on her bum to lift her up onto the desk behind her. Her legs she wrapped around his waist and it was her turn to moan as he ground himself against her. She could feel him smirk under her kiss and delivered a sharp bite to his lower lip before taking her time kissing her way down the side of his neck.

"So you can take care of yourself, huh?" he whispered hoarsely, his voice turning to a growl as she nipped a particularly sensitive spot just below his ear.

It took a few moments for his words to force their way through her lust-fogged brain, but when she understood she smiled against the skin of his neck. The smile was quickly replaced by an open-mouthed "Oh!" as one of his hands slipped up under her skirt once again and deftly pushed her knickers aside. She bit down on his shoulder, fighting the urge to grab hold of his arm.

"Answer me, Ginevra," he whispered, his drawl returning as his control increased. "You can take care of yourself?"

"With a little help from you," she replied in a rush of air, clutching to his shoulders.