Seduction and Suntan Lotion
by Sharlene/mynuet
Author's Note: It's all the fault of Sarea Okelani. Oh, and Monki and Aria, because they talked me out of deleting it in a fit of pique. Oh, and Kirixchi, because she's the one for whom the sequel is being written.
....
"I have to WHAT?"
Professor Okelani's eyes barely flickered at this uncharacteristic outburst. "Please sit down, Mister Malfoy. I doubt the other students appreciate this display of hysteria over a simple homework assignment."
"But--"
"No buts, Mister Malfoy! This project will comprise a large percentage of your marks for this term, so I suggest that you devote yourself to doing it well." She peered at him over her glasses and said, "Now, sit down, before I'm forced to take points from your house for this disruption of my class."
He sat, still fuming over the awfulness of this assignment, and plotting the imminent demise of all those responsible for Draco Malfoy having to spend the last year of his schooling enduring the utter indignity of a NEWT level muggle studies class. Maybe going to Azkaban alongside his parents wouldn't have been so bad.
"Class dismissed. You're to present your first assignment in front of the class on Tuesday, so kindly make good use of your time in preparing." Draco, still muttering curses under his breath, started to gather his things when he literally saw red.
"Um, Malfoy?" Her voice was so soft that he almost had to strain to hear. It didn't help that she seemed to be speaking to her own toes rather than to him. "When do you want to meet to practice?"
It was too easy. He sneered, "Never," and went back to gathering his things. He looked up in surprise when she didn't immediately clear off, just stood there looking at him with dark brown eyes that managed to be more impassive than any he'd ever seen. He took a moment to look her over from head to toe, taking in knee socks that were thick and knobbly, probably made with more love than craftsmanship, a baggy skirt that hung down past her knees, the crispness of the pleats a distant memory, rumpled blouse in that dingy shade of ivory only achieved by very old clothes that have seen one too many washings to be white any longer, topped off by a shapeless black robe that managed to hang lower than the wretched skirt, and a tangled mass of outrageously orangey red hair. "Well? Why are you still here?"
She continued to look at him calmly, seeming unfazed by his snapping at her. "We need to work together in order to pass, Malfoy. I thought I'd give you another chance not to fail a class in your NEWT year."
"Fine, have it your way, since it's obvious I won't be rid of you until I agree." His eyes flicked over her again and he sneered. "It's a pity I'll have to be seen with you, but I suppose my reputation will survive."
Ginny rolled her eyes and shifted the books on her hip. "If you're all that upset about being seen, you can meet me up on the seventh floor, across from the tapestry of Barnabas the Balmy. If you don't see me, just walk in the door there."
"Saturday morning, then, at nine o'clock. Everyone will either still be asleep or getting ready to go to Hogsmeade." He gathered his books and sauntered away, wondering vaguely what a pool boy was. It probably had something to do with that odd game with the green felt table.
He didn't begin to suspect something might be wrong with his hypothesis until he entered the door opposite the specified tapestry at 9:15 on Saturday morning and found there was not even a cue stick in sight. Instead there was a really unhealthy amount of sunlight glinting off of suspiciously blue water. "What the hell?"
"It's a pool, Malfoy. You're a pool boy. Remember?" He turned towards the voice that had come from slightly behind him and saw that the little Weasley girl had at least managed to ditch the god-awful robe. "Anyway, I did a bit of exploring while you did an admirable job of showing that no amount of money can buy you good manners. There's clothes for you in that little hut there. I think it's called a cabana."
With that she turned on her heel and started walking off, towards a door on the other side of the glimmering water. "Where're you going?"
"I'm going to explore my house. Some of the things these muggles have are fascinating." She had a house? And he had a sodding hut? The world was obviously an unjust place. He snarled as he stalked towards his stupid hut and almost tore the door off its hinges.
It was dark, and refreshingly cool after the heat of the relentless sunshine. He looked around and saw a bed that barely missed qualifying as a cot, a small desk, and a collection of what were probably supposed to be clothes. He stepped closer to the desk and saw that in the middle of the various objects scattered about, there was a copy of his assignment instructions, and a pamphlet. It had a picture of a skimpily dressed muggle on the front, and was titled, "So You Want to be a Cabana Boy". His eyes drifted between the pamphlet and the parchment with his assignment on it, even as he flipped past the first few pages.
Finally deciding that the humiliation of failing Muggle Studies would be too much to bear, he put down the pamphlet and picked out the largest pair of shorts he could find, and the shirt with the most subdued print. Feeling freakish in the shorts which barely covered the essentials and the shirt with its splashy red hibiscus pattern on a blue background, he shoved his feet into thong sandals and wandered back out, pausing only to pick up the pamphlet and a pair of glasses with dark lenses.
He was sitting in a chaise by the side of the pool, idly leafing through the pamphlet while snacking on some mixed nuts he'd found in a rather well stocked bar just outside of his 'cabana'. Just as he'd tossed a cashew into the air and was moving to catch it in his mouth, he caught sight of a very different looking Ginny Weasley.
"Malfoy! Malfoy, are you all right?" She was pounding on his back as he hunched over, trying to cough out the nut that had managed to lodge itself in his throat as he had gaped. How could she have been hiding a body like that? And what was she doing, wearing nothing but a few extremely tiny scraps of cloth? Why, she was practically naked!
Firmly repressing the part of his mind that was sniggering and saying what a shame it was about the 'practically' part, he said, "Stop trying to break my ribs, Weasel."
"Well, excuse me for giving a damn whether you live or die, I'm sure." She gave a disdainful sniff and stood abruptly, the towel that had been draped over her shoulder falling onto his lap. How she could flounce in her disgracefully small outfit was beyond him, but she managed it as she stood up and then tossed herself into the other chaise. "Aren't you supposed to be working?"
"Hmm?" Not the most intelligent of responses, but he was busy with making sure the towel covered the reaction his shorts most probably were not, and trying to think of anything but just how much of Ginny Weasley's creamy skin was on display.
"Working. Cleaning the pool? Because you're a pool boy?" She smirked at him evilly and he had to adjust the towel slightly. "Oh, and fetch me a drink. I want some iced butterbeer."
He wanted to snarl at her to get it herself, but the pamphlet had been very emphatic that one of his main duties was fetching things for his employer. With bad grace, and shorts that were still a bit too snug, he stomped towards the bar and poked around. "There's no butterbeer, just muggle stuff. What do you want?"
"Oh, just something cold," she said negligently. He splashed something random over ice and shoved it into her hands, trying not to wince as it splashed onto her breast and the cold liquid made her nipples tighten. Saying a prim thank you, she took a sip from the straw he had jammed in there and sent Draco's blood pressure up another couple of notches. Her face contorted into a grimace and she said, "Muggles like some strange tasting things, don't they?"
"Like I would know. You're the muggle lover among us." He'd turned away from her entirely and had answered out of pure reflex, given that the vast majority of his brain power was being devoted to reciting the quidditch statistics of the entire professional league... For the past ten years.
Draco came out of his daze to hear her saying, "Anyway, you should get to work. I think I want to try swimming in a bit."
"What work?" He hadn't gotten very far in his pamphlet, but surely anyone wearing this kind of clothing wouldn't be expected to do much, right?
With a noise of disgust, she stomped past him, momentarily distracting him from quidditch scores with the way the muscles in her bottom and thighs flexed as she moved. She turned and he looked up at her with somewhat glazed eyes as she said, "Honestly, did you do any research at all? You're supposed to use that big pole thing to just sort of sweep all the dirt off of the pool."
Her hand gestures were not helping matters, at all. Well, not helping matters to stay calm. They were definitely adding weight to the part of his mind preparing flip charts and other means of persuasion to get the rest of the brain to agree to pouncing on Ginny Weasley and licking her every freckle.
"Don't they have house elves, or some sort of servant that can do that kind of thing?" He managed to work up a creditable sneer for the concept of manual labor.
Ginny smiled in a distinctly wicked way as she sauntered back towards her lounge chair. "That's what you're here for, Malfoy. To be my servant."
As she passed him, she delivered a sharp smack to his bum, making his eyes go wider than should have been humanly possible. Was the bint teasing him? How was he supposed to react? He really didn't think that ripping off those scraps she wore and testing the sturdiness of the lounge chair was an option. He'd seen what she could do when angry, and he much preferred his testicles intact and attached to his body, thank you very much.
Grumbling, he brought down the unwieldy pole with the net on the end and started maneuvering it over the surface of the water. He'd just gotten into a good rhythm when he paused to take his shirt off and the red-haired weasel temptress said, "Come here."
"What now, Weasley?" He dropped the pole when he saw that she was running her hands over her skin, leaving it gleaming and overall looking like a shiny new toy, just for him.
He couldn't see her eyes, which were hidden behind mirrored sunglasses, but a corner of her mouth turned up slowly. "I need you to put some of this lotion on my back, so I don't burn. This is what muggles use instead of anti-sun charms."
Sweet Merlin, he was either the luckiest bastard alive or he was suffering a sneak preview of hell. His legs moved without guidance from his brain, which was currently stuck re-running the words 'lotion' and 'back' over and over again. She flipped over to lie on her stomach and put her head to one side, moving her hair so that all that covered her entire back was a thin string, tied in a neat bow. Never had he wanted to untie a present more.
He lifted the bottle to squirt some onto her back, but she said, "Don't you dare, Malfoy. Warm it up with your hands first."
"Whatever happened to those precious good manners, Weasel?" But damned if he wasn't squeezing out some lotion onto his hands and then rubbing them together to warm it up. What the hell was happening to him?
She peered at him from over the sunglasses in a way he would have called flirtatious if it was any other girl. "Why, Malfoy, are you implying that manners are necessary between a master and servant?"
"Shut up, Weasley," he snarled in lieu of answering her trap of a question. Deciding that kneeling would give him a better angle, he lowered himself to the ground before gingerly laying his hands on her shoulders.
"You know, I don't think your tone is very respectful. And press harder, you've got hands like a girl." He was massaging her shoulders now, and trying to calm himself down enough to move lower without making a complete mess of the excruciatingly small shorts he was wearing. "Upon reflection, don't your servants call you Master Malfoy? I think maybe you should call me Mistress Weasley while we're working on this project."
/Like hell/, he thought, his hands curling into fists against skin that was much too soft and touchable to belong to a brat Weasley. "Hmm, you need more lotion, Malfoy," she said in a dreamy voice that disturbed his train of thought quite interestingly.
In a daze of wondering what else he could do to get her to talk like that, he warmed some more lotion in his hands and started rubbing circles down her shoulder blades, right up to the edge of her swimsuit string. Taking a chance, he said, "Can I untie this? It's in the way."
"I'm sorry, did someone address me? I thought I heard something." She shifted a bit, pillowing her head on her arms so that her hair spilled off the lounge chair to brush against his thighs.
He blamed that damnably luxurious and silky hair for the fact that he croaked out, "Please, Mistress Weasley, may I untie the string?"
"Of course you may," she said promptly, not bothering to lift her head from her arms.
His hands shook as he pulled at the end of the string, his attention riveted on the way it slithered open and fell to her sides. She murmured, "Might as well get the one on my neck, too," and he shut his eyes and prayed that a merciful god would let him survive this. Ginny Weasley, whom he was now convinced was the sexiest woman on the planet, was naked from the waist up. And he was expected to touch her.
He ran his hands slowly up and down her back, breathing in the lime and coconut smell of the suntan lotion and the scent of her sun-warmed skin. He worked the lotion into her skin, then warmed more in his hand so that he could continue hearing the soft moans she was making as he worked all of the tension out of her muscles. He kept going until he felt like he had mapped every millimeter of her back, from the arch of her neck to the dip of the small of her back. He'd even rubbed his way down her sides, brushing against her breasts so many times that he wondered that she hadn't risen up in fury to smite him down.
Finally deciding that lingering further would be pressing his luck, he stood up, wiping his hands on a towel. Before he could move away, she said sleepily, "You have to get my legs, too."
He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to decide whether to get down on his knees and thank the heavens for the opportunity or run like hell. She decided the matter by crooning, "Come on, Malfoy, be a good boy. I promise you won't get dirty by touching a Weasley's legs."
Oh, but he wanted to get dirty. Very dirty. In many different positions. With lots of sweat, and some more of those little moans she'd been making.
Shaking himself out of those thoughts and telling himself firmly that Malfoys do not consort with Weasleys,
let alone Weasleys who go around giving orders. That he was following them was something disturbing that he was just
not going to think about. Once he was out of whatever odd trance he'd fallen into, he'd erase the memory from
his mind and deny any knowledge of it if she talked about it.
He knelt down once again, feeling oddly like he was worshipping at the altar of an untouchable goddess. Probably of fertility, considering the rate at which Weasleys reproduce, he thought with a sneer that never quite made it to his lips. Instead they hung open just slightly, breath rushing past them as he warmed the lotion in his hands and set his hands delicately onto the back of one of her thighs.
Ginny made this humming noise in her throat that he could have sworn sent a bolt of lightning through him. He pressed his hands down and started running them over her legs, as slowly as he dared. The lotion let his hands glide smoothly, and his touch was just firm enough not to qualify as gentle. He had moved all the way down to her ankles, then worked his way back up, trying not to think, as he rubbed her slightly parted thighs, how easy it would be to just go a /little/ farther...
As if she could read his thoughts, she sat up, holding a towel over her bare breasts. "You know, Malfoy, that really was too bad of you."
"What was?" His voice cracked, it damn well cracked, for the first time since he was a sodding fourth year. The humiliations of this day were too many to number, and this was without whatever little bombshell she was about to drop.
She shook her head, making a clicking noise with her tongue. "You've got even paler skin than mine, and you've just been letting yourself get burnt." He managed not to let his sigh of relief be visible, but then she continued, "Since you did such a good job for me, I think I'll return the favor."
Draco could only gape as she straddled the lounge chair, patting the seat in front of her. "Come on, Malfoy, before I change my mind and let you spend days with a miserable sunburn."
"Fine." He sat down stiffly at the edge of the chaise, his spine straighter than it had ever been, even when his mother had insisted on deportment lessons. "Just hurry up, would you?"
Her hands started gliding over his back, the lotion smooth and cool against his heated skin. "Tsk, tsk, Malfoy, you're not giving your mistress an order, are you?" She was massaging his shoulders now, kneading the muscles until he wanted to purr, or run away screaming. He quivered like a dog that's been told to stay still even though the treat is just tantalizingly within reach as she moved down to his arms, and he felt a something soft and distinctly breast-like brushing against his back.
Comprehension dawned in a startling moment of clarity. "Y- You're trying to seduce me!" he said in scandalized tones.
He could feel her smile against the skin of his back. "Finally. I thought the penny would never drop."
"Ginny Weasley, you brazen hussy." His mind was reeling from the shock. First she unveiled a body he'd never dreamed she possessed, and now she was deliberately making him harder than steel? What had happened to the mousy little girl who hung on Potter's every word?
Her arms disappeared from where she had looped them around him, and he realized he'd been caught up in his thoughts for much too long. She got up, clutching the towel to her front as she said stiffly, "Fine. If you won't mention any of this, I won't either. Wouldn't want you to suffer the taint of a Weasley."
"Wait, Wea--" He tried to grab her arm as she stomped by, but the lotion made her slippery enough to pull easily out of his grasp. He tried again, this time having to lunge after her, which might have gone better if he hadn't stepped into a pool of lotion from where he'd dropped the bottle. Draco's feet slid out from under him and he windmilled his arms, trying to regain his balance. His flailing managed to knock Ginny into the water, and then he lost the battle and ended up hitting the edge of the pool with his hip as he skidded past the walkway and fell in after her.
He came up sputtering for air, only to come face to face with a soaking wet and distinctly peeved looking Ginny. Her arms were crossed over her chest, and her wet hair was hanging down her back, water glistening on her skin. She'd no sooner opened her mouth to yell at him than he grabbed her by the upper arms and put his mouth on hers. If she was going to yell and misunderstand, he'd at least get something out of it first. After a minute of intense kissing, he let her go and stood, panting for breath and waiting for the axe to fall.
"Malfoy..." She just looked at him for a moment, one hand curled over her lips and the other dangling loosely at her side. His hands were practically itching to reach over and touch her, but he held his ground, since she looked like she was about to say something. He was not expecting her to mutter, "Screw it, I'm doing it anyway."
He just had time to open his arms as she threw herself at him, the water helping her to leap up enough to throw her legs around his waist. Her hands were in his hair and she was kissing him like she fully intended to devour him whole. He stumbled backwards, arms coming around to grip her firmly against him. She was rubbing herself against him and it was all he could do not to explode.
With the wall firmly behind him, he slipped one hand up from its kneading and cupping activities to find the string
that stood between Ginny and nakedness. He found it and tugged until he was holding a broken string and some fabric,
and then he threw it to the side, because she'd somehow managed to get his shorts open and he needed his hands
free.
The water was holding her up, and so he lifted her and then set her back down, her hand around him guiding him inside,
and then his hands tightened around her waist and he slammed her against him, a tiny part of his mind pointing out that
there'd been something there that shouldn't have been. She was writhing against him, flexing her legs to thrust
herself back and forth, but he managed to grit out, "Why the hell didn't you say you were a virgin?"
"Didn't matter," she said, wrapping her arms around his head and driving her tongue into his mouth.
She clenched her muscles around him and his fingers dug into her skin hard enough to bruise. He broke off the fierce kiss to move his mouth to her breasts, licking and biting and sucking while she gasped and moaned. Between ragged breaths, she said, "Besides, if... I'd said, oooh, if I'd said... Ahhh, anything, you wouldn't, oh, ohhh, wouldn't have caved, oh God, harder!"
Draco turned them around so that her back was the one against the pool's wall, then braced his hands on the edge and his feet on the floor before he started thrusting up into her so hard it was almost violent. From between gritted teeth, moving out with each word and in with each pause, he hissed, "I'm NOT doing this because you said to, I'm doing it because you're fuckable and I WANT to."
Her laugh was low and breathy, hot in his ear as she said, "Good to know I won't get accused of rape." She bit his ear, hard, and he couldn't talk anymore, couldn't think, all he could do was hammer into her with every bit of strength he had as her nails tore his back to shreds.
She came like a cataclysm, screaming his name as the strength leeched from her bones and she tightened around him convulsively. He wasn't far behind her, howling his orgasm into the skin of her neck as his breath seemed to leave his lungs entirely and he slumped dizzily against her body.
"We're doing this again sometime," she said as she pushed him off of her and moved towards the steps leading out of the pool.
"Yes, Mistress."
Omake:
Professor Okelani propped her feet up and looked at her guest. "You know you're a total perv, right?"
"Shut up, bitch," her sister said absently, her eyes still glued to the antics being shown in the crystal ball she was gazing at intently. "Ooooh, he's got his shirt off... And she's getting him to put lotion on her back."
" I can't believe I bothered to revive your ass." She moved from her desk to a spot where she could look into the crystal ball, giving her sister a shove when she wouldn't move over fast enough.
"They really are the perfect couple."
"Yeah, I do it all for you. Now shut up and let me watch."