~ His Smile
Ginny ignored his insolent glare on her back as she set her cup down. “I don’t care, Malfoy. You aren’t going to be babysitting me, and that’s that.”
“Weasley,” his voice was menacing and dangerous, but Ginny shook her head again, standing from the table.
“I refuse! I’ve told you! I hate being dependent, and this is just the worst way to be so!”
Malfoy stood, catching her elbow, and pulled her back to him. “He’s escaped, Weasley. You don’t know what those lunatics get into their heads, and you can’t ever be too safe. Just let me be around you when you go out – you don’t have to let me live with you.”
Ginny shook her head. “It’s not that, Malfoy, it’s really not. I can handle Jaret myself.”
“You don’t have to prove anybody anything. It’s not even been a week,” he growled, though Ginny knew well enough that he was pleading. She extricated herself from his hold, glaring at him, and sashayed out of the café indignantly.
~
It was sudden, and Ginny hadn’t expected for it to happen, but suddenly tears were flowing down her face and Jaret’s ephemeral face was in front of her eyes, yelling. Her cry wasn’t so loud as to attract much attention, but Draco had seen.
She pushed her hand over her mouth as she watched him. His jaw set, and he stared at the floor, challenging it with the force of his gaze. He avoided her eyes for the next few minutes, but Ginny knew there were words that he needed to let out.
Trembling, Ginny put her head down onto the table as the music raged on around them, adolescent couples dancing provocatively on the floor. Quidditch parties weren’t usually this loud and populous, but Ginny’s meager occupation did not supply many outings for her to choose from.
The man who had just approached her for a dance shot her a strange look, and Draco’s glare had sent him scampering to his friends once more. How could an innocent teenager and a cold-blooded bastard look so alike?
Raising her head, Ginny put a hand apologetically in Draco’s warm one and they coolly left the containment.
~
“He cares about you, Ginny,” Molly murmured as she sent another bruise healing with her wand. There were no scabs anymore, just blotches of yellow stains underneath Ginny’s vibrant freckles.
The front door slammed in the distance, and Ginny imagined Draco hounding and throttling Jaret himself. The thought sent an unpleasant fear through her, but she knew he was too rational to do that. The look in his eyes when he’d seen her a moment ago, however, was difficult to shake.
Despite the frown on her face, Ginny shrugged. “As he should; I’ve cared for him for five years, and it’s about time he returned the favor.”
Molly sent her an amused glance and flicked her wand again.
~
It was noon when she awoke. The curtains were drawn, and the door was closed, but she could feel the day reaching its peak outside of the house. The past three days had been lazy and relaxed, and she had been content to stay in bed as her skin healed.
Shifting under the toasty covers, Ginny was startled to find that the only fabric covering her body was a large shirt, smelling quite pleasantly of Draco. Wondering why she had been changed into it, Ginny let her feet patter down the endless stairs as she made her way to the kitchen.
House elves scuttled about, placing appetizing dishes onto the dining table as Malfoy stood languidly to the side, cutting a loaf of bread. Ginny approached him slowly, eyes wide. “Why are there house elves in my mother’s kitchen?”
He turned halfway to meet her eyes and then continued cutting. “What your mother doesn’t know won’t hurt her, Weasley.”
Blinking at his back, Ginny glanced at the clock. The Burrow was empty, it told her, save for her; the rest of the family was out. Approaching him slowly, Ginny glanced at the table. “Why aren’t you at work?”
The even, rhythmic cutting continued, and it wasn’t until he’d piled the slices of bread onto a plate that he spoke. “To be so punctual as to never skip a day of work, one has to have incentive. Puddlemere United doesn’t pay me nearly enough.”
Standing by the sink, Ginny watched his practiced movements. “Because you even need the money?”
He smirked, placing an empty plate before her seat, and stood back to study the table. The house elves were gone now, presumably back at the Manor, and Ginny stared at the table in puzzlement. “You haven’t answered my question.”
Malfoy shrank the table wandlessly and turned. “No, I don’t need the money, but I like having it.”
Ginny groaned, frustrated, and pushed past him to the table, snapping up a slice of cheese. Rolling her eyes, she shook her head. “You’re going to be the death of me.”
“But, oh, what a satisfying death,” he smirked, sitting at the opposite end of the table and digging into his meal promptly. Ginny sat munching on her eggs for a while and studied her breakfast companion silently. He pretended not to notice, and she pretended she didn’t know. It was adolescence all over again.
If she had to remember when she’d fallen in love with him, she couldn’t say. She’d always known how deep she was in, all five years that she’d suffered from, and reveled in, their acquaintance. She was always stuck, though, because even if he did develop an interest in her, ever, she knew he would move on as quickly as he came. It was better to preserve their lovely friendship and push her feelings to the corners of her mind.
As she moved the dishes into the sink, she felt his hard fingers on her skin, and jumped visibly at his touch. He stepped away in apology, and Ginny turned, one hand on her chest, as she tried to slow her heartbeat. She wasn’t scared; she was hopeful.
“You can breathe, Weasley. I’m merely checking your scars.”
Shaking her head in frustration, Ginny changed the subject. “How much longer are you planning on following me around and inhabiting my living space?”
He shrugged. “I took a couple of days off. I told you, Weasley, he’s on the loose, and you never know what might happen. Your family would flay me if anything happened to you. I’m going to be around you for the next forty-eight hours, and you might as well accept that.”
Ginny smiled. “My family. Would you, honestly, really be here if my family wasn’t such a threat to your safety?”
Malfoy sobered and shook his head. “Weasley, you’re not getting rid of me. Go get dressed properly.”
Snapping her fingers, Ginny nodded. “Don’t think I won’t figure out how and why I was changed into your shirt. Do you have your robes ready for tonight?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Tonight?”
Ginny stomped her foot. “Merlin, Malfoy, the party! My brother’s birthday party!”
He stepped away, brushing a hand through his hair. “Right, of course. What was his name, Chauncey? Calvin? Chad?”
“Charlie, you dolt!”
“My apologies to your brother. His birthday was two weeks ago anyway, I don’t understand what the rage is about having it on New Year’s Eve.”
Shaking her head, Ginny cursed under her breath as she stormed back to her room, calling, “Be ready at five!” as she slammed her door closed.
What seemed like minutes later, Malfoy was pounding on the door. “Weasley, are you alive? We have to leave in ten minutes.”
Gasping, Ginny threw her dress on, but it wouldn’t clasp properly. Her wand was of no help, because she couldn’t direct it at her back, and the sparks were flying in all different directions and zipping random curtain tails and bedspreads. Desperate, Ginny walked out into her lounge and whined, “Malfoy, I need help.”
He snorted. “I could have told you that years ago. What, did you forget to look at the clock?”
Ginny stomped her foot and waited for him to zip the back. His cool hands swiftly closed the clasps and smoothed the dress down. Ginny turned to look at him then. He was dressed impeccably in his fine robes, clean and perfect as always. Her breath stuck in her throat, and she berated herself for her weakness.
“You clean up just fine,” Ginny observed.
He nodded haughtily. “Thank you. I don’t really try.”
Ginny shook her head. “No, really. I’m sure you’ll have no problem picking up two or three bawds just in the first few minutes of being there.”
His eyes widened. “I have no intention of doing that. It’s your brother’s birthday, Weasley, the only women there will be either married or infantile.”
“Neither of those has stopped you before.”
He nodded, allowing her the point, and smirked. “I’ll try to restrain myself for your benefit, then.”
Ginny sighed, “I’m going to go fix my hair and face, then. I’ll be out in five.”
He caught her wrist, and she stumbled back into his chest. “You look just fine, Weasley. Were you sleeping just now?”
Ginny blushed slightly, “A bit.”
He closed his eyes tightly. “Don’t do anything. You look perfect as you are. We might be late if you keep at it.”
Ginny nodded, allowing him to drape a warm cloak over her shoulders, and they disapparated.
~
“Why are you still in your coat, Weasley? It’s blistering in here.”
Ginny tugged it closer around herself defensively. “I cast a cooling charm on myself. My dress is too revealing, anyway, and I just ate an entire meal. I’m sure to have some pudgy – “
Malfoy frowned at her. “Pudgy? You’re not pudgy, Weasley. Have you seen Granger? That’s pudgy.”
Ginny laughed, thwacking his arm, and stood. “She’s pregnant, you git! It doesn’t matter anyway, because I’m sure there are still some scars on me that would frighten the lot.” Ginny glanced around. Groups of Weasleys were milling about, and the decorations all over the Burrow glowed brightly in the dark. Scented candles gave off the fumes of peppermint candies, and Ginny closed her eyes, breathing the atmosphere into her heart.
No one approached them, everyone busy with conversation or other entertainment, the air was relaxed and merry. Fleur and Bill were dancing sensuously by the fireplace, and Ginny could make out a soft holiday tune from the Wizarding Wireless.
Ginny looked for something to do, but Molly had ushered her out of the kitchen, no doubt still on pins and needles that Ginny might spontaneously collapse from an everyday chore. Laughing at the playfully dirty looks Harry and Ron threw her, Ginny walked back to where Draco was sitting, watching her.
She extended a hand to him, “Dance with me?”
Surprised, he took it, allowing her small form to lead him to the center of the lounge. With a brief smile and a wave to her brother and his wife, Ginny turned to Malfoy, allowing him to initiate the dance. He put a hand slowly on the small of her back, and Ginny giggled out of nervousness that she hadn’t known was there.
Wrapping two hands around his neck with effort, she felt him pull her up onto his toes, moving them around the floor on his feet only, to alleviate her tenuous arms.
It was, in nicer terms, surprising, to feel Draco’s hands travel briefly over her midsection. She glanced up at him warily, and he seemed to ponder something before saying, “As I said before, I feel nothing pudgy. You’ve got to be the smallest human being I’ve ever met.”
Crashing her hands on her hips, Ginny exclaimed, “This isn’t pudgy?”
He slid his long fingers to the downy skin and smirked. “Not by my standards.”
Blushing, Ginny looked up at him. His voice was unusually low when he spoke. “Your brother had an ingenious thought a couple of days ago, when you were still at my place.”
Ginny smiled. “Wonders will never cease.”
Malfoy’s lips quirked, but he continued, “It was a plan, really, that he thought would show us …”
Ginny tilted her head. “Show us what?”
He seemed to fight with himself, and then changed the subject, “I’ve been thinking about what you’d asked me earlier, whether or not I would even be here with you if I wasn’t fearful for my –“
Ginny shook her head, dreadfully ashamed. “I’m so sorry I said that, I really didn’t mean it … I was just …”
His eyes softened, but he went on. “And I think, honestly, that even if you had no siblings, and no parents to worry about you, that I would be here, because I’m selfish. I don’t deny it, and I’m not apologizing for it. I’m selfish, and you’ve been a part of my life for much too long. Without you, I would be shagging everything in sight, and without me, you’d be picking all the wrong men.”
Ginny smiled at him, nodding. Then, something in his demeanor changed, and his lips twisted. “Your brother’s executed his plot.”
Ginny glanced up at him questioningly, and a bright glow above their heads caught her attention. Ginny gasped, “But Christmas was six days ago!”
He grimaced then, almost imperceptibly, but Ginny saw. She pinched his neck lightly, murmuring, “Hey.”
Draco moved his eyes to her slowly, and she frowned. “I don’t understand.”
“Love broke me when you and I met. I’ve tried fighting it every which way; hell, I’ve shagged more than a fourth of the world’s population, but nothing changed. Between men and women there is no friendship possible. There is passion, enmity, worship, love, but no friendship. And being bloody honest, I don’t think I have ever been your friend,” he argued with himself more than with her, Ginny noted, and his eye were hard, his guard was up.
“No more hurting then, no more pretending. No more meaningless shagging or physical abuse. Not this time. This time it will be different, and you’re going to oblige if I have to make you.” The chime of a bell somewhere in the house signaled the first few seconds of the new year. With a sudden burst of strength, Ginny jumped up to the mistletoe, tossing it roughly to the floor, and attached herself firmly to Draco’s lips.
Ginny ignored his insolent glare on her back as she set her cup down. “I don’t care, Malfoy. You aren’t going to be babysitting me, and that’s that.”
“Weasley,” his voice was menacing and dangerous, but Ginny shook her head again, standing from the table.
“I refuse! I’ve told you! I hate being dependent, and this is just the worst way to be so!”
Malfoy stood, catching her elbow, and pulled her back to him. “He’s escaped, Weasley. You don’t know what those lunatics get into their heads, and you can’t ever be too safe. Just let me be around you when you go out – you don’t have to let me live with you.”
Ginny shook her head. “It’s not that, Malfoy, it’s really not. I can handle Jaret myself.”
“You don’t have to prove anybody anything. It’s not even been a week,” he growled, though Ginny knew well enough that he was pleading. She extricated herself from his hold, glaring at him, and sashayed out of the café indignantly.
~
It was sudden, and Ginny hadn’t expected for it to happen, but suddenly tears were flowing down her face and Jaret’s ephemeral face was in front of her eyes, yelling. Her cry wasn’t so loud as to attract much attention, but Draco had seen.
She pushed her hand over her mouth as she watched him. His jaw set, and he stared at the floor, challenging it with the force of his gaze. He avoided her eyes for the next few minutes, but Ginny knew there were words that he needed to let out.
Trembling, Ginny put her head down onto the table as the music raged on around them, adolescent couples dancing provocatively on the floor. Quidditch parties weren’t usually this loud and populous, but Ginny’s meager occupation did not supply many outings for her to choose from.
The man who had just approached her for a dance shot her a strange look, and Draco’s glare had sent him scampering to his friends once more. How could an innocent teenager and a cold-blooded bastard look so alike?
Raising her head, Ginny put a hand apologetically in Draco’s warm one and they coolly left the containment.
~
“He cares about you, Ginny,” Molly murmured as she sent another bruise healing with her wand. There were no scabs anymore, just blotches of yellow stains underneath Ginny’s vibrant freckles.
The front door slammed in the distance, and Ginny imagined Draco hounding and throttling Jaret himself. The thought sent an unpleasant fear through her, but she knew he was too rational to do that. The look in his eyes when he’d seen her a moment ago, however, was difficult to shake.
Despite the frown on her face, Ginny shrugged. “As he should; I’ve cared for him for five years, and it’s about time he returned the favor.”
Molly sent her an amused glance and flicked her wand again.
~
It was noon when she awoke. The curtains were drawn, and the door was closed, but she could feel the day reaching its peak outside of the house. The past three days had been lazy and relaxed, and she had been content to stay in bed as her skin healed.
Shifting under the toasty covers, Ginny was startled to find that the only fabric covering her body was a large shirt, smelling quite pleasantly of Draco. Wondering why she had been changed into it, Ginny let her feet patter down the endless stairs as she made her way to the kitchen.
House elves scuttled about, placing appetizing dishes onto the dining table as Malfoy stood languidly to the side, cutting a loaf of bread. Ginny approached him slowly, eyes wide. “Why are there house elves in my mother’s kitchen?”
He turned halfway to meet her eyes and then continued cutting. “What your mother doesn’t know won’t hurt her, Weasley.”
Blinking at his back, Ginny glanced at the clock. The Burrow was empty, it told her, save for her; the rest of the family was out. Approaching him slowly, Ginny glanced at the table. “Why aren’t you at work?”
The even, rhythmic cutting continued, and it wasn’t until he’d piled the slices of bread onto a plate that he spoke. “To be so punctual as to never skip a day of work, one has to have incentive. Puddlemere United doesn’t pay me nearly enough.”
Standing by the sink, Ginny watched his practiced movements. “Because you even need the money?”
He smirked, placing an empty plate before her seat, and stood back to study the table. The house elves were gone now, presumably back at the Manor, and Ginny stared at the table in puzzlement. “You haven’t answered my question.”
Malfoy shrank the table wandlessly and turned. “No, I don’t need the money, but I like having it.”
Ginny groaned, frustrated, and pushed past him to the table, snapping up a slice of cheese. Rolling her eyes, she shook her head. “You’re going to be the death of me.”
“But, oh, what a satisfying death,” he smirked, sitting at the opposite end of the table and digging into his meal promptly. Ginny sat munching on her eggs for a while and studied her breakfast companion silently. He pretended not to notice, and she pretended she didn’t know. It was adolescence all over again.
If she had to remember when she’d fallen in love with him, she couldn’t say. She’d always known how deep she was in, all five years that she’d suffered from, and reveled in, their acquaintance. She was always stuck, though, because even if he did develop an interest in her, ever, she knew he would move on as quickly as he came. It was better to preserve their lovely friendship and push her feelings to the corners of her mind.
As she moved the dishes into the sink, she felt his hard fingers on her skin, and jumped visibly at his touch. He stepped away in apology, and Ginny turned, one hand on her chest, as she tried to slow her heartbeat. She wasn’t scared; she was hopeful.
“You can breathe, Weasley. I’m merely checking your scars.”
Shaking her head in frustration, Ginny changed the subject. “How much longer are you planning on following me around and inhabiting my living space?”
He shrugged. “I took a couple of days off. I told you, Weasley, he’s on the loose, and you never know what might happen. Your family would flay me if anything happened to you. I’m going to be around you for the next forty-eight hours, and you might as well accept that.”
Ginny smiled. “My family. Would you, honestly, really be here if my family wasn’t such a threat to your safety?”
Malfoy sobered and shook his head. “Weasley, you’re not getting rid of me. Go get dressed properly.”
Snapping her fingers, Ginny nodded. “Don’t think I won’t figure out how and why I was changed into your shirt. Do you have your robes ready for tonight?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Tonight?”
Ginny stomped her foot. “Merlin, Malfoy, the party! My brother’s birthday party!”
He stepped away, brushing a hand through his hair. “Right, of course. What was his name, Chauncey? Calvin? Chad?”
“Charlie, you dolt!”
“My apologies to your brother. His birthday was two weeks ago anyway, I don’t understand what the rage is about having it on New Year’s Eve.”
Shaking her head, Ginny cursed under her breath as she stormed back to her room, calling, “Be ready at five!” as she slammed her door closed.
What seemed like minutes later, Malfoy was pounding on the door. “Weasley, are you alive? We have to leave in ten minutes.”
Gasping, Ginny threw her dress on, but it wouldn’t clasp properly. Her wand was of no help, because she couldn’t direct it at her back, and the sparks were flying in all different directions and zipping random curtain tails and bedspreads. Desperate, Ginny walked out into her lounge and whined, “Malfoy, I need help.”
He snorted. “I could have told you that years ago. What, did you forget to look at the clock?”
Ginny stomped her foot and waited for him to zip the back. His cool hands swiftly closed the clasps and smoothed the dress down. Ginny turned to look at him then. He was dressed impeccably in his fine robes, clean and perfect as always. Her breath stuck in her throat, and she berated herself for her weakness.
“You clean up just fine,” Ginny observed.
He nodded haughtily. “Thank you. I don’t really try.”
Ginny shook her head. “No, really. I’m sure you’ll have no problem picking up two or three bawds just in the first few minutes of being there.”
His eyes widened. “I have no intention of doing that. It’s your brother’s birthday, Weasley, the only women there will be either married or infantile.”
“Neither of those has stopped you before.”
He nodded, allowing her the point, and smirked. “I’ll try to restrain myself for your benefit, then.”
Ginny sighed, “I’m going to go fix my hair and face, then. I’ll be out in five.”
He caught her wrist, and she stumbled back into his chest. “You look just fine, Weasley. Were you sleeping just now?”
Ginny blushed slightly, “A bit.”
He closed his eyes tightly. “Don’t do anything. You look perfect as you are. We might be late if you keep at it.”
Ginny nodded, allowing him to drape a warm cloak over her shoulders, and they disapparated.
~
“Why are you still in your coat, Weasley? It’s blistering in here.”
Ginny tugged it closer around herself defensively. “I cast a cooling charm on myself. My dress is too revealing, anyway, and I just ate an entire meal. I’m sure to have some pudgy – “
Malfoy frowned at her. “Pudgy? You’re not pudgy, Weasley. Have you seen Granger? That’s pudgy.”
Ginny laughed, thwacking his arm, and stood. “She’s pregnant, you git! It doesn’t matter anyway, because I’m sure there are still some scars on me that would frighten the lot.” Ginny glanced around. Groups of Weasleys were milling about, and the decorations all over the Burrow glowed brightly in the dark. Scented candles gave off the fumes of peppermint candies, and Ginny closed her eyes, breathing the atmosphere into her heart.
No one approached them, everyone busy with conversation or other entertainment, the air was relaxed and merry. Fleur and Bill were dancing sensuously by the fireplace, and Ginny could make out a soft holiday tune from the Wizarding Wireless.
Ginny looked for something to do, but Molly had ushered her out of the kitchen, no doubt still on pins and needles that Ginny might spontaneously collapse from an everyday chore. Laughing at the playfully dirty looks Harry and Ron threw her, Ginny walked back to where Draco was sitting, watching her.
She extended a hand to him, “Dance with me?”
Surprised, he took it, allowing her small form to lead him to the center of the lounge. With a brief smile and a wave to her brother and his wife, Ginny turned to Malfoy, allowing him to initiate the dance. He put a hand slowly on the small of her back, and Ginny giggled out of nervousness that she hadn’t known was there.
Wrapping two hands around his neck with effort, she felt him pull her up onto his toes, moving them around the floor on his feet only, to alleviate her tenuous arms.
It was, in nicer terms, surprising, to feel Draco’s hands travel briefly over her midsection. She glanced up at him warily, and he seemed to ponder something before saying, “As I said before, I feel nothing pudgy. You’ve got to be the smallest human being I’ve ever met.”
Crashing her hands on her hips, Ginny exclaimed, “This isn’t pudgy?”
He slid his long fingers to the downy skin and smirked. “Not by my standards.”
Blushing, Ginny looked up at him. His voice was unusually low when he spoke. “Your brother had an ingenious thought a couple of days ago, when you were still at my place.”
Ginny smiled. “Wonders will never cease.”
Malfoy’s lips quirked, but he continued, “It was a plan, really, that he thought would show us …”
Ginny tilted her head. “Show us what?”
He seemed to fight with himself, and then changed the subject, “I’ve been thinking about what you’d asked me earlier, whether or not I would even be here with you if I wasn’t fearful for my –“
Ginny shook her head, dreadfully ashamed. “I’m so sorry I said that, I really didn’t mean it … I was just …”
His eyes softened, but he went on. “And I think, honestly, that even if you had no siblings, and no parents to worry about you, that I would be here, because I’m selfish. I don’t deny it, and I’m not apologizing for it. I’m selfish, and you’ve been a part of my life for much too long. Without you, I would be shagging everything in sight, and without me, you’d be picking all the wrong men.”
Ginny smiled at him, nodding. Then, something in his demeanor changed, and his lips twisted. “Your brother’s executed his plot.”
Ginny glanced up at him questioningly, and a bright glow above their heads caught her attention. Ginny gasped, “But Christmas was six days ago!”
He grimaced then, almost imperceptibly, but Ginny saw. She pinched his neck lightly, murmuring, “Hey.”
Draco moved his eyes to her slowly, and she frowned. “I don’t understand.”
“Love broke me when you and I met. I’ve tried fighting it every which way; hell, I’ve shagged more than a fourth of the world’s population, but nothing changed. Between men and women there is no friendship possible. There is passion, enmity, worship, love, but no friendship. And being bloody honest, I don’t think I have ever been your friend,” he argued with himself more than with her, Ginny noted, and his eye were hard, his guard was up.
“No more hurting then, no more pretending. No more meaningless shagging or physical abuse. Not this time. This time it will be different, and you’re going to oblige if I have to make you.” The chime of a bell somewhere in the house signaled the first few seconds of the new year. With a sudden burst of strength, Ginny jumped up to the mistletoe, tossing it roughly to the floor, and attached herself firmly to Draco’s lips.
Author notes: Thanks to all and happy holidays!
"Between men and women there is no friendship possible. There is passion, enmity, worship, love, but no friendship." ~Oscar Wilde
The End.
antidote is the author of 5 other stories.
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This story is a favorite of 37 members. Members who liked Not This Time also liked 1282 other stories.
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