Thanks, as always, to where_is_truth for the beta (as well as the seal of approval), and also to applecede for the much-needed brainstorming session.
***
"Well, this is an interesting turn of events," Draco observed as the moving staircase continued to spiral them away toward parts unknown. The amusement was evident in his tone.
Ginny sank down onto the stairs, silently agreeing with him. The entire day had been one interesting turn of events after another. From Harry's almost-declaration to throwing snowballs at Draco, to getting soaked by Peeves and then stuck on a staircase – again with Draco – she no longer knew which way was up. She was sideways, or upside down, or somewhere in between, but it didn't seem like such a horrible place to be.
"So." Draco's smooth voice tickled her ear as he seated himself next to her. "Don't you think it's about time you explained yourself, little Weasel?”
Ginny noticed his use of the old nickname, but his tone was entirely different now, so near to a caress that it made her shiver. His gaze was intently fixed on her, and she knew the time for truth had come.
She nodded at him. "You're exactly right, Malfoy," she said. "I'll answer any question you've got for me ...”
His eyes flashed with interest, and then she continued.
" ... as long as you answer something first."
A brief frown crossed his face, but then he shrugged, devil-may-care attitude returning. "Why not? It isn't as if you'd know the right question to ask, anyway."
He reconsidered that statement as Ginny's eyes gleamed with triumph.
"Why'd you follow me?"
Draco said nothing in response, but the fleeting look of surprise that Ginny spotted on his face let her know she had, indeed, known the right question.
"Don't answer that,"she added quickly, which caused him to quirk an eyebrow at her. "What I mean is that I know what you'd say. You don't know why, any more than I did when I first started to see you differently."
She trailed off then, worrying her lower lip between her teeth as she watched for Draco's reaction.
When he spoke, never taking those molten eyes from her face, his voice was ever so slightly hoarse. "Don't stop there."
The next breath she drew was slightly shuddery. The chemistry between them – whatever this was between them – was almost a tangible thing now. Ginny imagined she could see it fluttering in the short distance between them and had to stop herself from reaching out for it.
"I had a fight with my brother," she said simply, forcing herself to stay on track. "About a month ago. I told him I wasn't planning to go home for Yule – that was before Hermione invited him – and he was furious. 'We always go,' he said.
"'We always go,'" she repeated, shaking her head. Draco noticed that her hair, as it dried, had started to curl at the ends. He wondered if the curl would straighten if he tugged it gently, or if it would maintain its simple integrity. He might have checked, but Ginny was still speaking.
"I started to think about how many people see me just as 'the Weasley girl,' not as Ginny. They know my name, maybe, but they assume everything else about me just because of my last name."
She paused, and Draco's voice slid into the silence.
"And you thought I might know what that was like." He was furious with himself for the vague disappointment he felt at her explanation. What did it matter to him, anyway? And what had he expected her to say, if not that?
"I did think that," Ginny said softly, "but you're also one of the people who didn't see me as anything other than a Weasley." Didn't, she realized, I said didn't. But maybe it's true, maybe he's starting to look at me.
He couldn't argue with that statement, could not meet those limpid brown eyes and tell her she was wrong. He couldn't think of anything to say to her that seemed even vaguely right, but he had to do something. So he reached for her.
He cupped her face gently in his hands, and her eyes fluttered closed with a small sigh. So soft, he thought as he let his fingers trail down the sides of her neck until his palms were resting lightly on her shoulders.
Do it, his mind urged, but he hesitated. Any of the Hogwarts girls who had met him in broom closets or dark alcoves would have screamed "Polyjuice!" at this uncharacteristic behavior, but all Draco knew was that he wanted to do this right.
When nothing happened after a few seconds, Ginny slowly opened her eyes. Draco was still there, so so close, not moving, barely even breathing. He blinked, and in the sliver of a second his eyes were shut, Ginny leaned forward and pressed her lips to his.
If she'd thought his scent made her weak, Ginny would need to ask Hermione for some stronger adjectives to describe what it was like to kiss Draco. It was lucky they were sitting, because she knew her knees would not have supported her. The sensation of her lips touching his, of his grip on her shoulders tightening at the instant of contact ... of his lips pressing back and coaxing her mouth open, of his tongue sliding forward to trace her lips ...
She could have kissed Draco forever. She would have kept kissing him for the next several minutes, at least, but the staircase chose that moment to come to a creaking, stuttering halt.
They parted instantly, eyes opening reluctantly, but their faces remained millimeters apart. Draco turned his head to peer into the dark corridor in front of them, and as he moved, his cheek brushed Ginny’s nose.
He stood then, climbing up the few remaining stairs. At the top, he turned and extended a hand to Ginny, which she took wordlessly. He helped her up, and released her hand with a quick squeeze when she reached his side.
"What now?" Ginny asked quietly, still reeling, reeling, reeling from the kiss. Am I panting? Gods! Get a hold of yourself.
Draco's eyes were serious – predatory, even – as he looked back at her. "I think that should be obvious," he said, and his lazy drawl was full of promises and intentions Ginny was sure were not entirely proper. Not that she wanted them to be. The idea of Draco Malfoy being proper with her made her cold inside, whereas his kiss ... oh. He had bent his head so that his mouth was tickling her ear, and his warm breath was making her shiver as he whispered to her.
"We have to figure out where we are."
Her head jerked and she met his eyes, only to see them twinkling at her.
"Was that not what you were expecting me to say?" he asked in a deceptively innocent tone, inwardly enjoying her surprise. It was only fair, he thought – if she wouldn't do the expected thing, then neither would be.
Ginny considered a reply in the same teasing vein before deciding to take a more direct approach.
"Almost nothing about today has been what I expected, Draco."
Again, the simple honesty of her statement had surprised him, but at least now he could answer her. No more awkward silences – now that he had kissed those full, warm lips, he felt more in control of himself than he had since being assaulted by her snowball.
And she was right. Of all the words he might use to describe this day, 'unexpected' was surely the most apt. Ginny had disrupted his moment of peace with a bang – don't you mean a splat? his brain corrected – and had insinuated herself into his consciousness. He had hardly stopped thinking of her since that afternoon.
He mused on what he knew, really knew, of her. A Weasley, yes, but the only similarity she seemed to share with her odious brother was the hair. And even the hair, on her, had a strange appeal. She was deft where Ron fumbled, both socially and on the Quidditch pitch. No, he thought, she's not like her brother. Upon that conclusion, he assigned a mental point in Ginny's favor.
He was continuing to tick off positive points, finding more than he had anticipated, when a startled "eep!" broke the silence, and both Ginny and Draco turned quickly toward the sound. Draco drew his wand and prepared to cast a nasty hex, but Ginny peered into the dark hallway and visibly relaxed when she recognized the shadowy figure clinging to the wall.
"Euan," she said, identifying the second-year Gryffindor. That did nothing for Draco, who was reasonably sure he had never seen the shaking boy before. "Abercrombie," Ginny added under her breath, seeing his lack of recognition.
"What are you doing, Euan?" Ginny's voice was gentle, causing Draco to roll his eyes, but it did nothing to lessen the small boy’s obvious discomfort.
"G-g-getting my Charms book," the boy stuttered. "I left it ..."
"Left it where?" Draco asked sharply. "We're not anywhere near the Charms classroom."
"But ... " Euan trailed off miserably, though it was clear he wanted to say something.
Ginny stepped in front of Draco, effectively shielding Euan from his icy glare. "Go on," she said, and the softness in her tone made Draco remember how soft her lips had been. The glare dropped off his face.
"Well," Euan continued reluctantly, darting a nervous look over Ginny's shoulder, "we are near the Charms classroom. It's just there." He pointed behind him, and Draco recognized a familiar portrait.
"Finally," he said coldly. "I thought I'd be stuck wandering the castle with a Weasley all night because of a blasted moving staircase." Out of the corner of eyes he hoped were projecting the right amount of detachment and disgust, he chanced a peek at Ginny.
Her eyes did not well up with tears, and her mouth did not fall into a pout. Instead, she nodded slowly, as if he had said nothing that she had not anticipated.
"Euan," she said again, and her housemate turned to her. "You should be getting back to Gryffindor. I'll be along shortly."
He nodded quickly, and with a last "eep" as he caught Draco's eye, he was scurrying back down the corridor.
Now they were alone, and Ginny lifted her brown eyes for a brief moment, searching Draco's face, before a very small smile flickered and died.
"Good night, Draco," was all she said before she turned and started to walk away.
And this time, when he said "wait," she didn't.
***
"Well, this is an interesting turn of events," Draco observed as the moving staircase continued to spiral them away toward parts unknown. The amusement was evident in his tone.
Ginny sank down onto the stairs, silently agreeing with him. The entire day had been one interesting turn of events after another. From Harry's almost-declaration to throwing snowballs at Draco, to getting soaked by Peeves and then stuck on a staircase – again with Draco – she no longer knew which way was up. She was sideways, or upside down, or somewhere in between, but it didn't seem like such a horrible place to be.
"So." Draco's smooth voice tickled her ear as he seated himself next to her. "Don't you think it's about time you explained yourself, little Weasel?”
Ginny noticed his use of the old nickname, but his tone was entirely different now, so near to a caress that it made her shiver. His gaze was intently fixed on her, and she knew the time for truth had come.
She nodded at him. "You're exactly right, Malfoy," she said. "I'll answer any question you've got for me ...”
His eyes flashed with interest, and then she continued.
" ... as long as you answer something first."
A brief frown crossed his face, but then he shrugged, devil-may-care attitude returning. "Why not? It isn't as if you'd know the right question to ask, anyway."
He reconsidered that statement as Ginny's eyes gleamed with triumph.
"Why'd you follow me?"
Draco said nothing in response, but the fleeting look of surprise that Ginny spotted on his face let her know she had, indeed, known the right question.
"Don't answer that,"she added quickly, which caused him to quirk an eyebrow at her. "What I mean is that I know what you'd say. You don't know why, any more than I did when I first started to see you differently."
She trailed off then, worrying her lower lip between her teeth as she watched for Draco's reaction.
When he spoke, never taking those molten eyes from her face, his voice was ever so slightly hoarse. "Don't stop there."
The next breath she drew was slightly shuddery. The chemistry between them – whatever this was between them – was almost a tangible thing now. Ginny imagined she could see it fluttering in the short distance between them and had to stop herself from reaching out for it.
"I had a fight with my brother," she said simply, forcing herself to stay on track. "About a month ago. I told him I wasn't planning to go home for Yule – that was before Hermione invited him – and he was furious. 'We always go,' he said.
"'We always go,'" she repeated, shaking her head. Draco noticed that her hair, as it dried, had started to curl at the ends. He wondered if the curl would straighten if he tugged it gently, or if it would maintain its simple integrity. He might have checked, but Ginny was still speaking.
"I started to think about how many people see me just as 'the Weasley girl,' not as Ginny. They know my name, maybe, but they assume everything else about me just because of my last name."
She paused, and Draco's voice slid into the silence.
"And you thought I might know what that was like." He was furious with himself for the vague disappointment he felt at her explanation. What did it matter to him, anyway? And what had he expected her to say, if not that?
"I did think that," Ginny said softly, "but you're also one of the people who didn't see me as anything other than a Weasley." Didn't, she realized, I said didn't. But maybe it's true, maybe he's starting to look at me.
He couldn't argue with that statement, could not meet those limpid brown eyes and tell her she was wrong. He couldn't think of anything to say to her that seemed even vaguely right, but he had to do something. So he reached for her.
He cupped her face gently in his hands, and her eyes fluttered closed with a small sigh. So soft, he thought as he let his fingers trail down the sides of her neck until his palms were resting lightly on her shoulders.
Do it, his mind urged, but he hesitated. Any of the Hogwarts girls who had met him in broom closets or dark alcoves would have screamed "Polyjuice!" at this uncharacteristic behavior, but all Draco knew was that he wanted to do this right.
When nothing happened after a few seconds, Ginny slowly opened her eyes. Draco was still there, so so close, not moving, barely even breathing. He blinked, and in the sliver of a second his eyes were shut, Ginny leaned forward and pressed her lips to his.
If she'd thought his scent made her weak, Ginny would need to ask Hermione for some stronger adjectives to describe what it was like to kiss Draco. It was lucky they were sitting, because she knew her knees would not have supported her. The sensation of her lips touching his, of his grip on her shoulders tightening at the instant of contact ... of his lips pressing back and coaxing her mouth open, of his tongue sliding forward to trace her lips ...
She could have kissed Draco forever. She would have kept kissing him for the next several minutes, at least, but the staircase chose that moment to come to a creaking, stuttering halt.
They parted instantly, eyes opening reluctantly, but their faces remained millimeters apart. Draco turned his head to peer into the dark corridor in front of them, and as he moved, his cheek brushed Ginny’s nose.
He stood then, climbing up the few remaining stairs. At the top, he turned and extended a hand to Ginny, which she took wordlessly. He helped her up, and released her hand with a quick squeeze when she reached his side.
"What now?" Ginny asked quietly, still reeling, reeling, reeling from the kiss. Am I panting? Gods! Get a hold of yourself.
Draco's eyes were serious – predatory, even – as he looked back at her. "I think that should be obvious," he said, and his lazy drawl was full of promises and intentions Ginny was sure were not entirely proper. Not that she wanted them to be. The idea of Draco Malfoy being proper with her made her cold inside, whereas his kiss ... oh. He had bent his head so that his mouth was tickling her ear, and his warm breath was making her shiver as he whispered to her.
"We have to figure out where we are."
Her head jerked and she met his eyes, only to see them twinkling at her.
"Was that not what you were expecting me to say?" he asked in a deceptively innocent tone, inwardly enjoying her surprise. It was only fair, he thought – if she wouldn't do the expected thing, then neither would be.
Ginny considered a reply in the same teasing vein before deciding to take a more direct approach.
"Almost nothing about today has been what I expected, Draco."
Again, the simple honesty of her statement had surprised him, but at least now he could answer her. No more awkward silences – now that he had kissed those full, warm lips, he felt more in control of himself than he had since being assaulted by her snowball.
And she was right. Of all the words he might use to describe this day, 'unexpected' was surely the most apt. Ginny had disrupted his moment of peace with a bang – don't you mean a splat? his brain corrected – and had insinuated herself into his consciousness. He had hardly stopped thinking of her since that afternoon.
He mused on what he knew, really knew, of her. A Weasley, yes, but the only similarity she seemed to share with her odious brother was the hair. And even the hair, on her, had a strange appeal. She was deft where Ron fumbled, both socially and on the Quidditch pitch. No, he thought, she's not like her brother. Upon that conclusion, he assigned a mental point in Ginny's favor.
He was continuing to tick off positive points, finding more than he had anticipated, when a startled "eep!" broke the silence, and both Ginny and Draco turned quickly toward the sound. Draco drew his wand and prepared to cast a nasty hex, but Ginny peered into the dark hallway and visibly relaxed when she recognized the shadowy figure clinging to the wall.
"Euan," she said, identifying the second-year Gryffindor. That did nothing for Draco, who was reasonably sure he had never seen the shaking boy before. "Abercrombie," Ginny added under her breath, seeing his lack of recognition.
"What are you doing, Euan?" Ginny's voice was gentle, causing Draco to roll his eyes, but it did nothing to lessen the small boy’s obvious discomfort.
"G-g-getting my Charms book," the boy stuttered. "I left it ..."
"Left it where?" Draco asked sharply. "We're not anywhere near the Charms classroom."
"But ... " Euan trailed off miserably, though it was clear he wanted to say something.
Ginny stepped in front of Draco, effectively shielding Euan from his icy glare. "Go on," she said, and the softness in her tone made Draco remember how soft her lips had been. The glare dropped off his face.
"Well," Euan continued reluctantly, darting a nervous look over Ginny's shoulder, "we are near the Charms classroom. It's just there." He pointed behind him, and Draco recognized a familiar portrait.
"Finally," he said coldly. "I thought I'd be stuck wandering the castle with a Weasley all night because of a blasted moving staircase." Out of the corner of eyes he hoped were projecting the right amount of detachment and disgust, he chanced a peek at Ginny.
Her eyes did not well up with tears, and her mouth did not fall into a pout. Instead, she nodded slowly, as if he had said nothing that she had not anticipated.
"Euan," she said again, and her housemate turned to her. "You should be getting back to Gryffindor. I'll be along shortly."
He nodded quickly, and with a last "eep" as he caught Draco's eye, he was scurrying back down the corridor.
Now they were alone, and Ginny lifted her brown eyes for a brief moment, searching Draco's face, before a very small smile flickered and died.
"Good night, Draco," was all she said before she turned and started to walk away.
And this time, when he said "wait," she didn't.
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