Once her fifth wish was reversed, four of the five eligible bachelors suddenly lost interest in Ginny and almost instantly disappeared from the scene. Oliver Wood stayed put, all smiles and brash charisma that professional Quidditch players had in abundance. Ginny enjoyed her time with him, catching up on old times, reminiscing about infamous Gryffindor moments, such as the Weasley pranks and the victory parties. It was like conversing with an old friend and it reminded her greatly of Harry, however where as with Harry there was slight awkwardness and boundaries, with Oliver there was blunt physical attraction.
Draco was less than ecstatic and made sure to profess this at every opportunity.
“I don’t like this,” he stated plainly, barely concealing his vapid dissatisfaction.
“I had a vague idea you wouldn’t,” Ginny replied, nodding solemnly and still planning on completely disregarding him. “Too bad you’ve no say in the matter, though.”
“Ginny, I don’t think inviting Oliver Wood over to your apartment to watch a movie late at night is a good idea,” he tried again, speaking as calmly and coherently as his tumultuous stomach allowed him. “There is a reason couples don’t stay in if they plan on having a conversation.”
Frowning, Ginny busied herself with the bag of popcorn. “What are you implying?”
“I’m implying that if placing two hot-blooded specimens of mutual physical attraction on a comfortable horizontal surface… things happen.”
“Things?” Ginny turned to him with a bowl full of airy popcorn, her brows deepening the frown.
Draco rolled his eyes, smacking his own forehead. “Oh Merlin, it’s like talking to a five-year old,” he mumbled under breath and turned to glare at her. “Sex, Weasley! Sex! Are you familiar with the concept?”
At his outburst Ginny rolled her eyes as well. He managed to scare her there for a moment. “Yes, I am familiar with the concept, thank you very much. But this is just a movie date, don’t be ridiculous! Oliver was just tired from his training and was too beat to go out. I suggested he’d come over, and that’s that. It was my idea.”
“That’s what he wants you to think,” he informed her with a conspiratorial glint. “In reality, he will have you out of your knickers and thoroughly shagged before they even announce the name of the film!”
“Draco, you are disgusting,” Ginny stated bluntly, placing the popcorn bowl on the coffee table in front of the television set. “I don’t know why I’m even telling you this. This is none of your business.”
Draco bristled. “First of all, you’re telling me this because you secretly want me to dissuade you from doing something stupid, obviously. In case it wasn’t clear, by ‘something stupid’ I mean letting that idiot into your flat. And secondly, of course it’s my bloody business! There is a small unfinished matter of your pure, virginal soul belonging to me for an extended period of time and I do not appreciate you trying to tamper with the merchandise.”
Ginny shot him a brief glare and stalked back into the kitchen, closely followed by Draco. “We have already discussed this. Stop calling my soul ‘merchandise’!”
“Fine, ‘your very special sense of self’, better?” he inquired dryly, helping her pull out a few cans of soda from the fridge. “The fact remains that you owe it to me and I need it untouched.”
Sighing loudly, Ginny turned away from the dishes and folded her arms across her chest, leveling him with a look. “I do not plan on sleeping with Oliver tonight. If he has other ideas—“ she spoke up quickly to interrupt the rapid string of convictions that threatened to flow out of Malfoy. “—he will be greatly disappointed. I am a big girl and I know how to keep it in my pants. As you should already be aware of considering the fact that I am twenty six and still… untouched.” The last bit was said with only slight bitterness and Draco had to acquiesce to stop bothering her and help out with the preparations.
When he saw her pull out a bottle of red wine from the cupboard, however, he blocked her way out of the kitchen. “What is that?”
“That?” Confused, Ginny glanced down at the bottle and up at Draco again. “Wine.”
“Yes, I can see that this is wine. Why are you bringing it out? Alcohol clouds the judgment and lowers inhibitions. Put it back in the cupboard.”
“Draco, this is ridiculous! It’s just wine!”
“If you do not want me to drop by in the middle of your date like some deranged chaperon – Put. It. Back.”
Ginny huffed loudly and placed the bottle back into its dark alcove. Turning, she glared at him. “You can’t tell me what to do! You’re not my father!”
“Thank Merlin for small favors,” he mumbled wryly, pulling out two glasses for the soda and continuing to set the table for her and her date.
Somewhere in the back of her mind, Ginny couldn’t explain properly what compelled her to Floo Draco and ask his help tonight, offhandedly informing him of her plans with Oliver. She vaguely realized that it couldn’t have been something simple and innocent, because people did not just call up random – friend? Nemesis? Person? - to boast about their evening plans – unless those people were of the really petty and small-hearted type which Ginny did not belong to. So, why then? She couldn’t explain it, and so the thought was pushed back along with the thumping, the long conversations, the banter that no longer was hostile, and the random staring silences between the two.
Draco left some time after that, still hissing under his breath and clenching his fists into white knuckles. He refused to say what upset him so much and Ginny decided to not pursue the topic as he seemed uncomfortable discussing it. Oliver arrived half an hour later with a bouquet of flowers and a bottle of red wine, which would’ve been rude not to open. So, the cork was popped open and the wine poured into two wine glasses Ginny brought out as they sat down to watch the movie of Ginny’s choice.
Ginny wondered absently what it was with Draco that made him so infuriatingly correct most of the time. Was it the sharp mind of a boy who had to survive in the Slytherin house and make his overbearing father proud? Was it the guile of the young man who had to live through Dark Lord’s incessant testing of will and loyalty? Or was it the crassness of the real world which he had to face daily as a grown adult in the twenty first century? Ginny had no idea, but she resented him for this nonetheless.
When her fuzzy conscious finally grasped what was happening, Oliver had already maneuvered a hand under her sweater and was peppering her throat with tender feathery kisses. He stroked her stomach, his lips whispering incoherent words against her flushed skin and his knee nudging her own apart ever so gently. He cooed to her as she gasped and moaned at his actions and though she understood he had to be stopped before it was too late, she couldn’t bring herself to push out the words. And every time she tried to mumble something, he would silence her with a kiss, his tongue delving into her mouth and cutting off all her trains of thought.
Draco was right, of course, and now she realized this completely. Placing two hot-blooded specimens of mutual physical attraction on a comfortable horizontal surface did indeed result in… things, but Ginny had an inkling of an idea that realizing this would do her little good. Her mind was hazy from the wine and though she struggled to focus it, it was proving to be a fairly difficult task under the ministrations of Oliver’s skillful hands.
She felt one of his hands cup the thin fabric of her brassiere, massaging one of her breasts with languid attention, while the other hand subtly moved down her stomach, finally resting on the buckle of her pants. There was a flash of alarm at this point, because she was still aware enough to remember she did not plan for this to happen in any way or form during this evening. She raked her nails down the sides of his stomach, his shirt discarded long ago, and pushed his hand away from the buttons of her jeans, murmuring soft protests.
He was insistent, however, assuming that she simply needed little coaxing. He moved his hand there again and fumbled with the button. Ginny moaned her protest, breaking the kiss and pushing his hand away once again. He adhered this time and simply continued kissing her, his hand resuming its attention to one of her breasts and the one supporting his weight.
Then, all of a sudden, Ginny vaguely registered the lack of a warm male body on top of her and quickly sat up, watching two figures exchange complimentary insults and punches, at the end of which Draco proceeded to literally kick Oliver out of the flat, tossing his jacket and shoes out the door as well. Slamming the door shut and locking it for good measure, he turned to her with what she only could assume was deathly glaring because he had taken the liberty to turn on the lights and she was both blinking and grimacing unappreciatively at the brightness. She tried to mumble something, perhaps to demand an explanation, but the wine was still reining her mind headily and words came out jumbled and nonsensical.
She then watched him as he marched around the sofa and grabbed her by the arm, yanking her up to her wobbly feet and all the while muttering obscenities and colorful cuss words. He dragged her down the hallway, ignoring her feeble demands to be put down, and once reaching the bathroom, unceremoniously shoved her into the shower and turned on the cold water full on.
Ginny Weasley was snapped back into reality out of her fuzzy stupor by the heinous shrieking of some mangled beast. A mangled beast who, as she realized a moment later, was herself. She started screaming and cursing and trying to get out of the shower and away from the freezing torrent, but Draco just nonchalantly pushed her back against the tiled wall each and every time. Focus and consciousness snapping back with painful force, Ginny had given up fighting and remained standing under the violent stream, mouth opening and closing to grab some air as the freezing water soaked her through and through.
Finally when he deemed her sober enough, Draco turned off the water and helped her out of the shower, leading her to her bedroom and sparing her five minutes to change her clothes.
When the door closed behind her, Ginny blinked and stared ahead at the cluttered bedroom, trying to understand what the hell had happened. She was dripping water onto her wooden floor, her mind was reeling and her body was freezing from the cold shower and the stark contrast from the warm activity prior to it. But most of all, she was seething. She stripped quickly, tossing every last garment to the corner in a pile, and hastily pulled on her shower robe along with a pair of knickers before storming out of the room, slamming the door behind herself.
She found him in the kitchen, brewing coffee.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” She was half shouting half hissing, not wanting to alert her nosy neighbors to any kind of occurrence. Though she assumed Draco’s theatrical banishment of Oliver might have clued them in.
“Making coffee,” Draco replied evenly, pouring two cups and setting them on the kitchen table, quietly taking a seat there. “Drink it while it’s hot.”
Ginny’s eyes widened a bit more in silent rage. “Coffee? Coffee? You barge into my house, toss out my friend, shove me into a cold shower and you think I should drink coffee?”
“That bottle of wine is empty,” Draco stated evenly, his gaze not gracing her but staring ahead at the table. “I’d assume you finished it together. You are going to have a headache in the morning.”
Ginny felt a pang of guilt along with another mysterious thump, but squashed it instantly. “I already have a bloody headache, Draco! What the hell are you doing here? What on earth made you think you could pop in uninvited while I have Oliver over? I can’t believe you actually thought to chaperon me!”
“I forgot my day-planner,” he replied quietly once again, picking up and showing her the small dragon hide clad organizer she encountered countless times before.
Ginny grunted loudly, her hands balling into claws around an invisible neck. “Who the hell do you think you are? How dare you kick my friend out of my own apartment? What is wrong with you?”
At this Draco finally snapped his stare away from the table top and pierced it at her, the grey of his eyes darkening into foreboding stormy shade. “I was protecting my best interest,” he spoke quietly, his voice vibrant and steady and causing Ginny’s stomach to churn unpleasantly.
“ ‘Your best interest’?” she echoed, managing to sound incredulous despite the growing unrest within her. “ ‘Your best interest’?”
Last traces of his self control seemed to be slipping as he jumped to his feet, his coffee forgotten. “His hand was unzipping your pants, Weasley! How long do you think it would have been before he had you out of your knickers?”
“Nothing was going to happen! I had told him ‘no’ already! We were just fooling around!”
“You fool around in your teens, Ginevra,” he barked at her, striding over and towering above her smaller frame. “At our age it’s called foreplay!”
“Nonsense!” Ginny scoffed dismissively, turning away from him and marching into the living room. “He understood perfectly well that nothing was about to happen!”
“Is that why he had his prick hanging out, rubbing against your jeans, then?” he demanded with cold stoicism she did not appreciate as he followed her out. At the sound of his words, she stopped and slowly turned around, staring at him. He looked at her with disbelief, distaste marring his face when he snarled. “You didn’t even notice, did you? You were so wasted you didn’t even notice!”
She blanched, suddenly feeling sick to her stomach. She clenched her teeth and leveled him with a defiant stare. “Nothing would’ve happened. I would’ve stopped it. I’d already stopped it once.”
“Keep telling yourself that and you’ll be an even bigger fool than I am,” Draco hissed and turned away from her. “You could’ve ruined the entire experiment,” he added quietly, indifferently.
Humiliated and enraged at the same time, Ginny felt tears sting her eyes as she grabbed his arm and yanked him around. Words were spilling out of her before she even realized what was it that made her so angry. “Experiment? That is what’s bothering you in this entire situation – your experiment? I’ve almost slept with Oliver Wood and you are this angry because of your sodding experiment?”
He stared at her for a long moment, before carefully plying her fingers off his robes and tightening his grip on her wrist. He took a step towards her, his expression set in hard lines and his eyes seeming almost black in the feeble lightening. “What other reason should there be for being this angry, Ginny? What else could bother me this much in the image with which I was presented upon Flooing into your living room that would make me act so irrationally and kick that ponce out onto the landing with his dick hanging out?”
He was taking slow deliberate steps, backing her until she was forced against the wall. She stared at him with rising panic when he raised her wrist and pinned it against the wall above her head, this time leaning closer with his whole body when he spoke. “What else could make me this furious, Ginny?”
He was speaking in a quiet measured tone, suave and smooth and utterly heart-wrenching. Ginny felt her stomach flip and yield, her heart beat so fast that she feared there might be a hummingbird trapped in her chest, and her knees threatening to buckle. She was absolutely petrified, completely paralyzed with fear, and yet excitement and exhilaration seemed to break through that terror and grace her with a low burning fire.
“Draco,” she breathed out shakily, trying to free her hand form his grip. “Let me go. Please.”
“No,” he whispered slowly, his breath lingering on her neck as he dove to plant a chaste kiss on her shoulder where the robe has fallen off. “Maybe this is the reason you can’t think of a Prince Charming for yourself, Ginevra.”
He pressed his knee hard between her own, forcing them to part and her naked thighs to straddle his leg. His free hand pulled on the sash of her robe and felt it unravel. She whimpered something quietly and tried to stop him, but he easily brushed her attempts away.
“Maybe you simply crave the Villain.”
She tried to stammer out something, something scathing, but his breath tickled her earlobe and she felt him smirk into her flushed complexion when she shuddered. It suddenly felt like a punch to the stomach. She had never been played like this before, never found herself at the mercy of an arrogant self indulgent bastard who deemed it appropriate to ridicule and mock her lifestyle at every opportunity, and now even manipulate her with such ease into desiring his touch. Standing there, with his sinfully handsome face tucked into the nook of her shoulder, his lips doing nothing more than pressing soft kisses into her skin, and his free hand lightly tracing a circle around her bellybutton, Ginny wanted to cry.
She knew she was a good person, she knew she deserved respect and love, and she knew that she deserved the very truest forms of both. What she didn’t deserve was the scorn and derision with which Draco chose to treat her at that very moment. Before she even registered that her voice has become strong enough to speak again, the words were coming out of her mouth.
“Draco, please,” she whispered. “Please let me go. I don’t want this, not like this, please.” Her voice was growing louder with every word and she began squirming again, trying to yank her hand out of his vice grip and ply his fingers open with her free hand. “Just let me go, Draco. You’re scaring me, stop this!”
Raising his head from her shoulder, he stared at her. “You didn’t seem to have any qualms when Wood was touching you, but I scare you?” Draco hissed, digging his fingers deeper into her flesh, both the stomach and the wrist clutched in his fist. “I scare you? Your sodding boyfriend got you drunk and started rubbing up against you when you were mostly out of it and I scare you?”
“Draco,” she half-whimpered half-growled.
He let go of her wrist only to grab her by both her shoulders and shake her. “How daft do you have to be? I worried myself sick over you and when I come here and help you out, you’re—you’re scared of me? How stupid are you? Do you know what would’ve happened if I didn’t show up? Do you—“
He jerked one more time and glared down, searching her eyes, franticly trying to find something that wasn’t there at the moment. Stricken with frustration and anger, he growled low in his throat and yanked her close, leaning in to seal her lips with her own.
Panic gripped Ginny’s stomach and she snapped her face away. “No! Get out! I don’t ever wish to see you again!” Gathering all her strength, she hit him in the chest, savagely pushing him away.
Through the streaming hot tears Ginny watched him as he stumbled over an armchair and toppled backwards onto the floor, his hand landing awkwardly onto the scorching coals still crackling in the dimming fireplace as it tried to break his fall.
Gasping loudly and stifling a cry of pain, Draco yanked his hand and cradled it to his chest as he scampered away from the open fire.
Ginny cried out, eyes wide with different kind of terror as she hurried to his side and begged to see the hand, grabbing her wand from the coffee table and ready to heal. But he jolted away from her, got up to his feet and wordlessly draped his cloak around his shoulder, picking up his own wand.
“Draco, what are you doing? Let me treat that! It’s a burn, I know it hurts!”
Still clutching the hand close to his chest, Draco struggled to regain his posture as he raised his wand. He looked at her, cold and suddenly hateful. “Your wish is my command.”
Without another word he Disapparated, leaving behind a distraught Ginny with a fluttering heart and gnawing nerves.
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