There's Something About Buttons by Szaranea

Rating: NC17
Genres: Romance, Humor
Relationships: Draco & Ginny
Book: Draco & Ginny, Books 1 - 5
Published: 14/02/2004
Last Updated: 14/02/2004
Status: Completed

It’s the middle of the night and Draco Malfoy has a problem with something that is very Weasley,
and very disgusting. And there’s quite a bit about buttons in it.




1. There
--------

**There’s Something About Buttons**

**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK
Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and
Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark
infringement is intended.

The “anal retentive attention to detail” thing is not from me, it belongs to whoever wrote the
Movie ‘Dogma’. I believe it was Kevin Smith.

**Summary:** It’s the middle of the night and Draco Malfoy has a problem with something that
is very Weasley, and very disgusting. And there’s quite a bit about buttons in it.

**Author’s Notes:** Ginny’s height is a tribute to my lovely beta Silver who is 1,58m, I
believe. I couldn’t write it like that, since Draco estimates her height in the story, and I’ve
never heard anybody saying “Hey, you look like you’re 1,58”.

And uh, don’t mind the unsaturated fatty acids thing. And don’t ask. Just don’t.

In general, Draco Malfoy made a point in avoiding contact with all sorts of people and things
that went *thwarp* from time to time. Well, in Potions he wasn’t able to continue that
particular policy of his, but even then his creations were possibly a lot more silent than those of
bloody everyone around him. He used to boast with this, showing off to everybody just how good he
was at that particular subject, but deep, deep down he knew that it were not his admittedly
outstanding grades but rather his piercing stare that might be the operating factor in that
particular case. Even cauldrons could cringe if he tried hard enough to stare them down.

But right now, all that didn’t help him out. Not at all.

“This is sooooo not funny,” he heard Pansy Parkinson mutter under her breath beside him. It
would actually sound more like a whine to anybody else, but since he was not anybody else, and
since he knew Pansy quite well, he placed her tone of voice more into the category of ‘resigned
frustration’.

“Of course it is, Pansy. It is *designed* to be funny, didn’t you know?” Draco replied
sourly, and then sneered, just in case somebody was watching , which he highly doubted, at this
time of the night. They wouldn’t have seen a bloody thing in the darkness anyway. He then carefully
tried to pry his left leg out of the…whatever it was. He didn’t even want to know, but by the smell
of it he ventured a guess that it had a lot to do with putrefaction, mould, and loads of water in
the unhealthiest shades possible.

“Well, get me out of here,” she fumed, “and do it fast. While you’re at it, you could be a
gentleman and give me your cloak.”

Draco risked to shoot her an incredulous glance. “Get you out of here? Give you my cloak? Are
you insane?” he asked in a voice that clearly implied ‘be careful, I may not bite you because
you’re ickily soiled, BUT…’

Pansy had the sense to recoil slightly at this point, but the idea of getting out of that
hellhole won over the idea of Draco doing something horrible to her finally, mainly because he
couldn’t do much anyway, given the immobile state he was in, being that he was stuck up to his hips
in a swamp, and still sinking. She smirked at him while telling him that, indeed, she was not
insane, and that he should get her out of there, because “you’re the one who said that this was a
bloody detour! Detour, my ass!”

Draco sniffed indignantly. “Better than getting caught by Filch now, is it?” he replied
petulantly. He knew he was being unreasonable, but still. He heard Pansy snort beside him, but
apparently she chose not to comment. If he was completely honest, he couldn’t blame her. But he was
Draco Malfoy, a pathological liar, so that was nearly unworthy of being mentioned.

Sighing in defeat, he reached into his pocket, trying to think of a way to get them out of the
sticky mess they’d gotten themselves into by turning the wrong corner. How was he supposed to know
that this was the corridor the Weasley twins had placed their bloody swamp in when it was fucking
*dark*? He grabbed his wand and cast a levitation charm on himself and then Pansy and somehow
managed to float them to the nearest patch of stone floor. Well, in theory, that is. In reality he
searched his pocket for quite a long time before he finally accepted the fact that he must have
lost it somewhere in the marshier parts of the school. *Haha. Guess where that is*, he thought
dryly.

“Pansy, you do have your wand with you, don’t you?” he asked nonchalantly.

“No, should I? I mean, I usually don’t need it when I venture out on a perilous midnight stroll
to the kitchens,” she babbled, “except for that time when that ugly-wassaname, you know, brown
hair, errrr the nose, there was something about the nose that-“

“Thank you Pansy, that’s enough. I only wanted to know whether you had your wand with you or
not. A simple ‘no’ would have sufficed, I’m sure,” he cut her off before she could tell him about
an amazingly dull run-in in the nightly halls with some dumb Hufflepuff or Gryffindor.

He was too much inclined to consider the possibility of maybe panicking would be an option to
keep an eye on, just in case, perhaps. He was Draco Malfoy, after all. He had once started to write
a book on what that name implied in third year, wondering why he hadn’t had that idea before, since
it was just a perfect pastime in History of Magic. (With that tidbit of information one should not
wonder at Rule #1: ‘Draco Malfoy does not pay attention to anything Binns says. Er. Professor
Binns. Scratch that. Fuck this. Argh’. Rule #65 is a little astounding, though: ‘Draco Malfoy does
never, ever use the term *unsaturated fatty acids*’ but combining Rules # 73, which states
that ‘Draco Malfoy will never, ever drink out of a bottle he hasn’t checked the contents of at
least thrice’ and #81 declaring that ‘Draco Malfoy shall never swallow anything with a percentage
of 3% or more of olive oil’ might give a hint as to why not to use above-mentioned chemical
term)

*To hell with that*, he thought when he watched as his bellybutton vanished in the stinking
fluid that was sucking him downwards continually. Actually he couldn’t see a damn thing, but he
could feel his bellybutton being engulfed by a lot of decaying…things and decay in general.

“Draco?” Pansy asked apprehensively. He just humphed in return, which most probably made her
scowl. He couldn’t tell, though. “Tell me you didn’t lose your wand,” she said wearily.

“I didn’t lose it,” Draco replied absentmindedly, inwardly cursing Dumbledore for not removing
the blasted swamp. This was dangerous! People could drown in it. And the flies didn’t help either.
He swore to get the old nutcase fired as soon as he managed to find a way out of there. If he did,
that is.

“Just what I thought,” she sighed, knowing his doctrine of honesty all to well. “Shit! Crap!
Fuck! You, Draco Malfoy are the biggest arsehole I’ve ever met in my life, and that’s saying a lot
considering my family!!!” she screeched furiously.

“Now, keep cool Pansy, there’s no need to wo-” he started to reason which was highly unusual for
him, so it annoyed him even more when Pansy cut him short.

“Don’t give me that crap, Draco Malfoy, because we’re royally fucked, and you know it!” Draco
was certain that, judging by the amplitude and frequency of her voice, there’d be some shattered
glass in the morning.Perhaps there was still a chance of being found before the bitter,
undignifying and - thanks to the amazing amount of germs that he was certain were feasting on the
morast - utterly unhygienic end of drowning in a swamp. But remembering the size of the castle, he
tried not to get his hopes up too high. Instead of voicing all this, though, he informed Pansy that
he was quite aware of being royally fucked.

“You know what, you big, shit-brained *IDIOT*? You’re not even half the man any other guy
in this castle is! I bet even Potter would have me out of this *PUDDLE* by now! He’d be able
to save me, but Mr. oh-so-great-and-certainly-not-pretentious Malfoy is just standing there stating
the *OBVIOUS*!” Pansy was seething, and Draco was sure he could see the steam coming out of
her ears disregarding the fact that they were, of course, engulfed by utter darkness.

“Well, that’s so like you anyway. You would let yourself be rescued by Potter or one of his
little minions, I wouldn’t. Don’t you have any sense of pride and dignity at all?” Draco retorted
disgustedly.

“Well, if that be the case then I guess I’ll just help Parkinson out then, eh?” a third and
vaguely familiar voice called out from somewhere to his right. It was female and reminded him
strangely of a ringing bell. After a moment of stunned silence broken only by the rustling sound of
somebody rearranging their clothes or rummaging in a pocket, the same person spoke a soft
“*Lumos*,” and within the moment their surroundings were dipped in a soft glow, emerging from
the tip of the wand of – *Ginny Weasley*!

Draco groaned. “Of all the people,…” he muttered under his breath, although she must have heard
it, since she shot him a sickeningly saccharine, sugarcoated and unmistakably fake smile. “…it is
Ginny Weasley and not Harry Potter who came across you?” she supplied. “Well, if that’s who you’ve
been hoping for I’m sorry to tell you that Harry’s fast asleep on a couch in Gryffindor common room
and certainly does not entertain thoughts of checking the Weasley swamp at two o’clock in the
morning,” she finished, grinning in an almost shark-like manner.

Draco’s expression turned dark. “Why’s it that people at the right end of the wand always get so
damn cocky?” he snarled.

“Dunno, but, for the record, there’s a lot of people out there who have been asking that
themselves when *you* were at the ‘right’ end of the wand,” she retorted merrily. “Well,
anyway, I’ll see what I can do about Parkinson. *Wingardium Leviosa*.”

She carefully lifted Pansy into the air and levitated the girl to the stonefloor right next to
her. Pansy, fighting against the urge to tell Ginny off for- well, to tell her off in general
actually managed to squeak a hasty ‘thanks’ before getting up to lean agaisnt the wall and smirk at
Draco.

“You fine?” Weasley asked her, and Pansy just snorted and muttered something that sounded like
“Peachy”.

The Slytherin girl then took off without sparing Draco another glance. In her opinion he
deserved to stand in there all night.

Draco watched her go with narrowed eyes, crossing his arms in front of his chest defiantly and
then looked at Weasley. “So you’re just going to stand there and watch me drown?” he asked, while
eyeing her from head to toe, “Pardon me if I say so, but I don’t think you’ll do that. You’re a
*Gryffindor*!” he spat out the last word as if it meant scum –which it actually did, to him.
Although in his opinion, it could have gotten out a lot harsher had he not at that exact moment
though that her baby blue duckling-print PJ’s were really too small for her, at least the top,
which was doing an amazing job of stretching over her rather generous bosom, considering that she
was only sixteen. He suddenly realized that she must have noticed his scrutiny, since her face
seemed several shades redder than could be deemed healthy. He just grinned. He was a seventeen-year
old boy after all, and knew to appreciate such sights, even if the owner of the body was a lowly
Weasley.

“You’re right,” she squeaked and then cleared her throat. “What I will do, though, is to place a
charm on you, so that you won’t sink any further,” she said cheekily, and with a swish of her wand
and a whispered incantation did so.

She turned around to leave and was already three steps down the hall when a slimy substance hit
her in the back of her head and started to trickle down her neck. Ever so slowly she turned around
and stepped up to the edge of the swamp, shooting the now smirking Draco Malfoy, who was at the
moment delighting on his dead aim, a dirty look.

“I could of course always undo that charm I put on you,” she finally said through gritted teeth.
Her face was turning dangerously red again, although Draco ventured a guess that this time it was
from anger. He didn’t care, though. He was sure that she wouldn’t take the spell off.

And she didn’t. Instead she did something that he would have even less suspected: she cocked her
head to the left side, lifted and eyebrow and then put her wand between her teeth so that both her
hands were free. Then, closing her eyes in thought and finally opening them again, she bent down,
picked up some of the slimy substance he was standing in till mid-torso and weighed it in her hand
calculatingly, giving him a speculative look that he didn’t like at all. All of a sudden she moved
and the next thing he knew was that something gooey hit him squarely on his forehead. He quickly
closed his eyes and gave an ineloquent yelp. When he opened his eyes again she stood there,
smirking infuriatingly. Well, the most infuriating thing about it was probably that she was
smirking, which was *his* trademark facial expression, but still.

“Seems like you’re in some kind of fix there,” she stated. “Because, Malfoy, in case you haven’t
noticed, it takes quite the awkward angle to throw something at me for you, and you can’t move,
whereas I am free to budge, duck and dodge your throws plus I can move my arms freely, and I’ve got
better aim than you do,” Weasley continued an a sing-song voice that Draco deemed rather
inappropriate for the occasion. But Draco deemed a lot of things inappropriate, such as red hair
and freckles and alcohol sold in bottles containing less than one litre. Make that one and a half
litres.

“So, will you ask me nicely to get you out of there, or do you want to continue being childish?”
she finished, giving him a stern look that might rival that of McGonagall one day. He seriously
hoped that she never intended to become a teacher, because given that smile and the rumours that
she paid anal-retentive attention to detail, she’d be the nightmare of his future kids, which he
never intended to have anyway, but still.

When he didn’t give an answer, she turned around about to leave, and he realized that swallowing
his pride for once when nobody was around to survey it except for Weasley was a small price to pay
compared to freezing his balls off. It was getting cold in there!

“Wait, Weasley!” he shouted, and to his relief she stopped and turned around. “Look, perhaps,
I’m, yes, uh, sorry for throwing that thing at you, and yes, well,” he stammered, searching for a
way to make this the least degrading to him, but unfortunately finding none.

“Well, okay, apology accepted, can I please go to bed now?” she asked, smiling
mischieviously.

“No!” he practically shouted. “No,” he went on in a more normal tone of voice, “please don’t.
Can’t you – can’t you get me out of here?” he rushed to say when he saw her frown.

“You want me to get you out of that...mess?” she asked rather rhethorically. Weasley seemed to
be contemplating this rather long, and Draco was getting quite impatient with her when she said
“Well, okay,” and levitated him out of the marsh with flourish of her wand and a well-placed
“*Wingardium Leviosa*”.

He stood up awkwardly, noticing for the first time how stiff his legs had gone while standing in
that swamp. The Weasley Swamp. He sneered. That’d probably the most famous thing ever to be
connected to that family. Then, just because he felt angry, frustrated and not to say humiliated,
he gave Weasley a hard shove so that she fell into the gruesome water that he had left only a
moment ago.

By sheer dumb luck she had fallen into the shallow end of the whole thing unlike Draco and
Pansy, and when she emerged again, coverd from head to toe in stinking water and moulding mud,
sputtering in indignation, he laughed what he hoped was an obnoxious laugh. “Liked that, Weasley?”
he asked mockingly, while trying to wipe some of the dirt and parts of dead plants from his
clothes.

“I’m not *Weasley*,” she spat, and he looked up at her, confusion and surprise edged onto
his face. “Weasley’s up in Gryffindor Tower, sleeping like a baby, and probably drooling like one
too,” she added, her tone of voice not lightening.

“Well, who are you then?” he asked suspiciously, not sure what to do now. Who could it possibly
be? Potter? Pansy – ah, no, she’d been here with him earlier.

She grinned all of a sudden, and reached for the collar of his shirt, drawing him closer to
her.

His breath quickened at her actions, because, although he knew that she wasn’t Weasley per se,
she – he hoped dearly that it was a she – still had her body, and, apart from the hair and the
freckles, Weasley was still not entirely unattractive.

When they were finally so near that her breasts were slightly touching his chest, she leaned up
to his ear, her breath on his neck causing him to shiver slightly, although he chalked it up to the
cold, and whispered “I’m *Ginny*!” before grabbing his collar in a firm grip and hauled them
both back into the epitome of bad smell, foul taste (don’t ask!) and general nastiness.

He tried not to think of all the decay and other revolting biological processes going on around
him as his head immersed in the disgusting fluid. He kicked a little in the glutinous mess in an
effort to get to the surface, which was an awkward thing to do since Weasley clung to him with a
death grip, when his left foot hit something hard. After some probing with his toes he concluded
that it was the ground. He put his right foot down too and applied some pressure in order to stand
erect and finally managed to do so, the water, or whatever it could be classified as, reaching up
to his throat. He tried to pull up the wildly kicking Weasley girl, so that she could breathe. It
was not an easy feat to accomplish. Especially since she kept kicking him in the shin.

“Stop it, goddammit!” Draco bellowed when he finally managed it.

“I can’t stand, it’s too deep!” she squeaked, a panick-stricken look on her face.

“It’s okay, I’ve got you, stop kicking,” he replied calmly. “I can stand, okay, so just hold on
to me, but *stop kicking*!” he continued exasperatedly. She stilled her movements immediately
and after a moment of hesitation he felt her legs wrap around his waist, and her arms snaking
around his neck, thus pressing her entire upper body against his chest. This was not exactly what
he had meant when he had said ‘hold on to me,’ but since he could feel every contour of her body
where they connected and she was obviously quite cold, he didn’t complain and, hiding the grin that
was tugging at the corners of his lips rather unsuccessfully, he sled his hands around her back to
hold her in place. Realizing that he was quite enjoying this he was thankful that she had not
decided to settle just the tiniest bit lower.

“How tall are you?” she finally broke the silence, her voice awed and innocent, and when he
pulled back a little from her to look at her face he nearly laughed at her wide eyes.

“1,50 metres, my descendants were pygmies, did you know that? Interesting what 200 years of
living in the cloudiest place of the world can do to your skin color, don’t you think?” he replied
matter of factly, his face a perfect mask of calm, although he had troubles keeping it like that
when she burst out laughing after a few seconds of stunned silence.

“Who would have thought that Draco Malfoy has a sense of humour after all?” she mused and
giggled once again after she had finally calmed down enough to be able to speak.

“A very twisted sense of humour it is, though,” he added, grinning. “Boy, this feels like
standing in one of Longbottom’s Potions,” Draco sighed, straightening a little, so that his
shoulders nearly touched the surface.

He expected her to scold him for making an insulting comment about her friend, but instead she
just looked at him strangely and murmured “Now that you mention it,” and took a strand of his hair
in her right hand and examined it closely.

“What?” he asked uncomfortably. He didn’t like the concentrated look on her face at all. It
practically screamed ‘uh-oh’, and Draco did not want anything uh-oh-like happening to his precious
hair. It was bad enough that it was soiled and streaked with bits of things he couldn’t and
wouldn’t name if asked.

“Well,” she said, drawling the vowel extra-long, “Your hair just seems a little...greenish.”

“My hair?” His left hand flew up out of it’s own volition and touched his beloved, mudcrusted,
drying hair. At least it was still there! “Greenish you say? What shade of green? Did your oafish
brothers put some sort of color-changing spell on this fucking swamp? Oh, fuck,” he ranted, slowly
starting to make his way back to the ‘shore’.

“Not that I know,” she replied, twirling his hair in her fingers thoughtfully. “As to the
shade,” she continued, “I’d say it’s a muddy kind of brownish-green with little bits of dirt thrown
in.”

Draco had managed to manoeuver them so close to the edge of the swamp now that almost all of his
upper body was now out of the water, which meant that Ginny, who was still clinging to him, was
exposed entirely. He thought about what she had just said shortly, before coming to an abrupt halt
as realization dawned on him(although abrupt is a rather strong word to use considering the speed
with which he had moved).

“My hair is not changing it’s colour?” he asked with narrowed eyes. “You were *making fun of
me?*” She nodded and looked at him curiously, obviously trying to see the big deal in it.
Judging by her expression, she couldn’t find it. Draco rolled his eyes in exasperation, and told
her to forget it, because if she was a girl and didn’t understand the tragedy of a bad coiffure,
than she was either a hopless case or a very hopeless case, although he was sure she was the
latter, considering her hair color and all.

He started making for the edge again, and enjoyed the sensation of her body rubbing against his’
with evey move he made, but tripped on a batch of seagrass or some other kind of weed (Herbology
was not exactly his favourite subject, so he didn’t care that a swamp was not the typical growing
place for seaweed), and they fell once again, but this time they landed with their heads just where
the swamp ended and the corridor began, meaning that the impact was soft, and that he was lying on
top of her, their faces mere centimeters apart. Their extreme proximity did strange things to his
body, such as making his heart beat a lot faster than he thought possible, and his stomach doing a
mighty lurch.

“Weasley,” he said, just to say *something*, when she smiled and put her right index finger
over his lips as to silence him.

“I told you it’s Ginny,” she whispered and looked at him through half closed eyes.

He cocked an eyebrow and, acting on a strange impulse to do something, took her finger in his
mouth and startet trailing his tongue along it. Her eyes fluttered open in surprise, although she
seemed to enjoy his treatment, since she let out an almost inaudible, excited sigh. It was only
then that his senses started kicking back in and he realized that he was licking her finger, which
was coated in mud.

Draco withdrew immediately and started spitting and retching as to get the soil and bad taste
out of his mouth. This was truly the most disgusting sensation he had ever experienced. He only
stopped his antics when he noticed Ginny trembling with laughter underneath him.

“You think that’s funny, eh?” he asked, his eyes flashing, and leaned down so that their noses
were almost touching, for effect. She nodded slightly, the tips of their noses rubbing against each
other as she did so. “Try for yourself,” he whispered then before leaning down to kiss her.

For an instant he felt her relax under him, as if she were welcoming his touch, but when he
opened her mouth with his tongue she started to wiggle underneath him, and tried to shove him away.
He took her hands, which where pushing at his shoulders and pinned them down to the ground at the
wrists.

Draco suddenly felt a sharp, stinging pain in his tongue and he withdrew instantly, his hand
flying up to his mouth reflexively.

“You bit me!” he said incredulously while she sputtered and wiped at her mouth.

“You kissed me!” she retorted. “And I hadn’t figured out the true meaning of dragon breath up
until now,” she added, shoving him off of her without effort, now that he wasn’t trying to keep her
down.

“Well, what do you think? I just ate a portion of that – that *stuff*!” he shot back,
realizing that this certainly did not qualify as one of his wittier comebacks.

She just snorted, and grabbed her wand, which she had thankfully dropped to the floor when he
had shoved her into the swamp first, and pocketed it.

“Well, I’m going up to the prefect’s bathroom now, to clean up, good night,” she then said with
finality and was about to leave when he grabbed her wrist and pulled her back a little.

“The prefect’s bathroom, hm? I had nearly forgotten about that,” he mused, while looking
contemplative. “That’s quite a long way you have to go from here, Miss Weasley,” he continued,
eyeing her from head to toe, letting his eyes rest a fraction longer than necessary on her breasts,
noting again how her nipples showed from the cold.

“As Head Boy, I have my own room and bathroom, and it’s just a few corridors away,” he looked in
her face again at this point. “Much less danger of being caught. What do you say?” he asked, giving
her a challenging look.

She took a deep breath and glanced at the ceiling briefly before looking at him again. “Okay. Do
you have an additional toothbrush?” she finally said, although she made it sound as if she had just
decided to help somebody out even though she really didn’t want to.

“No, but you can have mine. I assure you, it’s not poisoned, as I usually don’t have suicidal
tendencies,” Draco replied, grinning. “Well, not at the end of the month, that is,” he added after
a moment of considering his last statement.

She rolled her eyes and said “After you,” while giving his hand on her wrist a pointed stare.
Draco just chuckled and, instead of letting go tightened his grip and pulled her after him towards
his private quarters, thanking the fates for the privileges of being Head Boy, and his late
father’s money for ensuring his position as Head Boy. As a matter of fact, he hadn’t even needed to
bribe Dumbledore, who seemed to have given him the position out of his own volition, probably with
a little encouragement from Professor Snape. And as another matter of fact, his father wasn’t
really dead, but to Draco Azkaban almost equaled that. He shrugged off all thoughts about the
unpleasant place and said the password to his room when he reached the picture which was entitled
“Big, nude lady with mustache and pink paper towel”. He heard Weasley snicker behind him and rolled
his eyes. Dumbledore had refused to change the painting when he had asked, saying that it must be
something that everybody remembered, since being Head Boy meant a lot of responsibility and having
a lot of duties, and that the Head Boy’s room must therefore be easily found.

He groaned audibly when the woman in the portrait winked at him saucily and pulled Weasley into
the room with him slamming the entrance hole shut, silencing the lady’s faint “Hello sweetie,” as
he did so.

He turned to face Weasley, who was looking at his room in awe, her mouth slightly open. He
grinned and nudged her elbow, pointing over to a mahogany door to their left. “There’s the
bathroom,” he said, while trying to see his room from the eyes of someone who wasn’t used to such
splendour. It wasn’t easy. He was, after all, Draco Malfoy!

He then shook his head and tried not to think of the dirt they’d be leaving on his precious
carpet. Ignoring the pang of emotional pain that accompanied every step he took he made his way to
join his lady guest – he chuckled a little at the name – in the bathroom.

Having arrived there he noticed that she had deposited her slippers and had obviously found his
toothbrush, since she was scrubbing her teeth with it furiously. Draco really envied her. The taste
in his mouth was half killing him. He shook his head and then opened his shirt and flung it into a
corner of his marble-tiled bathroom and did the same to his pants, shoes and socks, hesitating with
his boxers, which once were an expensive dark green silk, but now rather looked like an attempt at
pottery gone horribly awry. He decided to leave them on for now and turned to his luxurious bathtub
and started filling it, adding his favourite scents to it, pine and moss.

Then he reached for his toothbrush, which Weasley had finally put down and rinsed it out
thoroughly before grabbing the toothpaste and brushing his teeth, sighing in bliss when the
horrible taste left his mouth.

When he was finished, Draco turned around to find that Weasley was staring at him fascinatedly.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, while turning off the water in the tub which had filled up nicely by
now.

“Do you always look so concentrated when brushing your teeth?” she asked, shaking her head
slightly in wonder.

“I look concentrated when I brush my teeth?” he replied, frowning. “Forget it,” he continued,
“We need a bath. Badly!” And with that said he shoved her, fully clothed, into the extra shower he
had requested to be installed, since he hated showering in the bathtub, and didn’t have enough time
for a bath in the morning.

Then he turned on the water, gritting his teeth a little when it came ice cold at first, while
Weasley shrieked outright. They both relaxed when the water finally started to turn warm.

“What was that for?” she asked accusingly after a few moments of silence.

“Well, I guess you agree that we both need a bath?” he asked, and she nodded, opening her mouth
as if to say something, but he shot her a look that said that he wasn’t quite finished. “But I like
to enjoy my baths, so I see no point in dirtying the water, and we are quite dirty, as are your
clothes.” He chose that particular moment to open the first button of her pyjama top, noticing her
eyes getting wide out of the corner of his eye. He then continued with the second button, taking
the fact that she hadn’t made an attempt to stop him as a positive sign, when he felt something
being poured in his hair and then soft, massaging motions on his scalp. She was washing his
hair.

He grinned and proceeded to undo the buttons, relieving the her shirt of the strain of
stretching across her chest. He didn’t know why, but he took his time in doing so, perhaps because
he enjoyed it so immensely, and he had just undone the third button revealing her collarbones and a
little bit of cleavage when she finished rinsing the last bit of shampoo out of his hair. He
couldn’t tell for sure, since he had his eyes fixed on his fingers, but by the movements of her
arms he guessed that she was washing her own hair now.

He had managed to undo the fourth button by now with excruciating slowness, and noticed fine,
white lather running down and disappearing between the valley of her breasts which he fully exposed
after opening the button number five. He eyed the sixth and last button almost sadly, now feeling a
pang of regret that her shirt only reached to her bellybutton. He liked opening buttons, he
guessed. It held an inscrutable fascination. And those particular buttons were small and round and
of an enticingly beautiful mother of pearl color. He was startled out of his fascination when he
felt her hands sliding over his opening the last button.

Draco swallowed and looked up at her face, noticing for the first time that she really was a lot
smaller than him, as her eyes were level with his throat. She couldn’t be taller than 1,60 meters.
She was staring at him intently, as far as staring is possible under a running shower (it usually
involves a lot of blinking and swearing in case the person who did the staring was wearing
contacts).

He kicked the bottles of shampoo and shower gel that he knew were standing on a raised spot of
the shower, picked her up, which caused her to wrap her arms around his neck once again, and set
her down where he so recently had removed the bottles, so that she now was at least a little
taller. No sense in ruining his neck if he could help it. When he was certain that her footing was
okay, Draco inclined his head a little and moved in to kiss her.

She groaned in pleasure as their lips finally met but was a little reluctant to open her mouth
when he tried to enter with his tongue, clearly remembering the mud episode. But eventually she
gave up and granted him entrance while running her hands through his now clean and silky hair.

He sighed inaudibly and wrapped his arms around her back, rubbing it rythmically while exploring
her mouth with his tongue, savouring her taste, even though it was mostly toothpaste. She responded
just as eagerly and so he moved his hands to her front, first sliding over her lips a little, then
cupping her generous breasts with his hands. He grinned against her lips when she moaned and leaned
in to his touch.

Draco started to knead her breasts softly, while he kept on kissing her, brushing over her
nipples with his thumbs continually, groaning when she pressed closer to him, rubbing her hip
against his erection. Moving his hands away briefly to remove her shirt entirely, he never broke
contact with her lips. He then moved his hands back to her breasts shortly before he directed them
to her stomach, stroking her skin in circles, and finally pulled away a little, breathing hard.

He could sense she was about to protest when he started kissing and licking his way over her
jawline to her ear, at which he suckled a little.

“You’re definitely wearing too much clothing,” he whispered hoarsely, causing her to shiver
slightly. He found that it sounded rather sexy himself.

He lowered his hands a little more and hooked his thumbs in the waistband of her pyjama bottoms
and her knickers, waiting for her to give some kind of sign that she was okay with this. She nodded
almost imperceptively and moved her hands from his hair to his chest, playing with the light
dusting of hair that covered it.

He then pulled both PJ bottoms and knickers down to her knees and she wiggled her legs a little,
letting them sink to the ground before stepping out of them.

Draco was looking in her eyes all the time while she was doing this, since he found that they
were so incredibly innocent and wanting at the same time, that he’d probably manage to get aroused
by just looking at her looking at him like this. Due to the unwavering attention he paid to her
face he was taken by surprise when he felt her small hands tugging at his boxers a little
uncertainly.

He smirked, hiding his surprise, and removed the undergarment swiflty. “Never done this before?”
he asked, grinning in a manner he supposed would look shark-like, and felt pleased when he saw that
she was blushing madly while shaking her head. But she didn’t break eye contact, which he guessed
took a lot of courage from her part. *Gryffindor bravery*, he thought cynically.

He then took a step back to let his eyes roam her now entirely naked, luscious body, delightedly
taking in the way the water poured from her aroused nipples down over her flat stomach and then
lost itself in the soft curls between her thighs which were dark red from wetness now, though he
couldn’t tell whether from arousal or just the water.

Looking up at her face again he noticed that she seemed to be uncomfortable under his gaze, and
that she had kept her own eyes trained on his face. Deciding that that was quite unacceptable in
this situation, he smiled at her encouragingly, which he couldn’t remember to ever have done before
for anyone in his life, and therefore felt quite generous.

“You’re beautiful,” he finally said. “Are you afraid of this?”

“Yes,” she simply answered, still refusing to look at anything else than his cheek. Or was it
his nose?

He reached up to her face, stroking her cheek lightly with his thumb, and took a step towards
her again. “If you don’t want to do this, you have to tell me,” he said, trying to figure out what
the hell had possessed him when he said that. He usually never asked girls whether they wanted to
sleep with him or not. He just assumed they did and got on with it. “But if you do want it, then
you’ve got to look at me, okay?” he added, when he didn’t get a response.

She seemed to contemplate this for some time before she gently shoved him to the side a little
and took a step towards the shower door. Disappointment flowed through him as he watched her and he
cursed himself for being an idiot and having asked, when he noticed that she had picked something
up, and was now standing in front of him once again. He watched unbelievingly as she poured a dose
of shower gel in her hand and deposited the bottle once again.

Draco was meanwhile getting a little cold sice she had moved him out of the spray of water when
she had nudged him aside earlier.

He guessed that his eyes must have been as big as saucers when she started rubbing her hands
over his chest and then his arms, because she giggled slightly when doing so. But he didn’t say
anything, because he feared to discourage her.

When she was finished with his arms she stepped up a little closer and snaked her arms around
him, starting to soap his back, starting at his neck, gliding lower over his smooth skin in lazy
circles, all the while staring into his eyes. He had no mirror to prove it, but he was quite sure
that they were quite some shades darker than his usual steel grey.

His breath hitched up a notch when she finally reached his ass, and didn’t stop there. She then
stepped away little then and sat on her knees to soap his long, muscled legs. He was a little
disappointed that she massaged only the outsides of his thighs, but didn’t say anything since he
wasn’t sure if she would stop if he did.

When she had finished soaping his feet she slid her hands slowly up his legs again, over her
knees and then, to his utmost surprise and delight, the insides of his thighs, stopping mere inches
away from where he wanted them to be, looking at his throbbing erection with a mixture of interest
and fear.

She glanced up at his face briefly, which was unusually flushed with excitement, and finally
took his cock in her right hand tentatively while running her left index finger along the shaft to
the head, exploring what was hitherto uncharted territory to her.

Draco leaned his head back into his neck and hissed at the innocent yet pleasurable touch. She
seemed to think that she had done something wrong since she immediately stopped and looked up at
him inquiringly, while blushing madly.

“Don’t stop,” he breathed, “that feels good.”

She nodded and started to move her hands again, her right hand pumping him, while she started to
stroke his thighs lightly with the other hand. Draco fisted his hands at his sides and groaned in
pleasure when she accelerated her pace a little. Although she obviously had no idea what she was
doing, she was doing a pretty good job of improvising in his opinion. He’d had better of course,
but this was good in its own sense. It had a completely different feeling to it that any other sex
he’d ever had. Well, he’d never slept with a virgin before, so that might be it.

Deciding that this was her first time she should get most of the attention, Draco stilled her
movements and pulled her up so that she was standing again. “Your knees must start to hurt,” he
said, grinning, and she giggled a little and nodded. He started suckling at her neck lightly,
nibbling at her wet skin, moving lower and lower, noting her increased heartbeat as he reached her
jugular, then went down over her collarbone and the valley of her breasts. He briefly considered
teasing her a little and moved upward again, but smirkingly dismissed the idea when she grunted and
pushed his head down again, guiding him to her left nipple. Not in a mood to contradict, he
complied and took her nipple in his mouth, sucking at it once before grazing it lightly with his
teeth.

She moaned and fisted her hands in his hair, making him wince a little when he started playing
with the rosy nub with his tongue. When he decided that he had paid due respect to it he moved to
give the other nipple the same treatment, while kneading her ass with his hands.

After some time he stood again and started kissing her, their tongues clashing passionately, his
hands stroking her everywhere, her back, her ass, her breasts, her stomach.

He didn’t particularily mind the slightly awkward angle they both had to hold their heads in due
to the extreme height difference, but obviously she did, because she placed his hands firmly on her
buttocks and her own at his shoulders and whispered “Pick me up,” in between kissing him. He was
surprised at her sudden boldness but did as was told, backing her up against the wall to lessen the
weight, while she locked her legs at the small of his back.

Draco could feel the wetness and warmth of her center against his abdomen and couldn’t resist
running a finger through her curls until he reached her clit, stroking it lightly. She gave a lurch
and moaned loudly when he did, and he continued to rub her slowly with his thumb.

“Think we should go into the bathtub?” he managed to say before groaning, because she had slid a
little bit lower and was now rubbing against his erection.

“Uh-huh,”she replied, at least he thought she did, it might as well have been a moan. Without
waiting for her to clarify the matter, he opened the showerdoor and went over to the tub, lowering
her into it, then crawling in himself, thanking whoever had decreed it standard for bathtubs to
have warmth-preserving charms.

He then spread her legs and moved in between them, and she bent them a little so that they were
half wrapped around him.

“You ready for this?” he asked, swallowing as he once again got lost in her eyes, so much that
he missed her nod. He did hear her “yes” though.

Draco moved closer and stopped directly above her entrance when he noticed that she was
clenching her teeth. “Relax,” he whispered before kissing her left eyelid lightly. He didn’t know
why he did it, it just felt right.

“There’s a good one. I’m going to get a particularly sensitive part of my skin ripped and you
say *relax*,” she said frustratedly, sagging a little.

“Look, you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, but if you want to, you’ll have to relax.
I’ve heard that it hurts less like that. It’s the same with getting a vaccination,” he tried to
reason with her.

“I *do* want this, but please, don’t talk about vaccinations, ungh, even the thought
hurts,” she groaned, rolling her eyes.

“I take it you don’t like vaccinations?” he said, stroking her thigh lightly.

“Nah. Who does? I used to lock myself in a cupboard when I was little when it was time to get a
vacc-oh!” she shrieked in surprise when he thrust inside her with one swift move, and then gasped
and closed her eyes as a wave of pain shot through her.

“Are you okay?” Draco asked and peered down at her concernedly, biting his lip in an attempt not
to groan. She felt so good wrapped around him.

“Wha- oh yes. Didn’t even hurt as much as I expected it to. It’s starting to ebb away,” she
said, taking deep, calming breaths.

“That’s good. Can I?” he asked, trying to sound patient.

“No! Shit!” she surprised him by screaming and then motioning for him to get off. He did so
reluctantly and wondered what the hell she was doing when she clambered out of the tub and bent
down next to the shower to search for something in her pyjama pants. He noticed a slight trickle of
blood running down her thigh, while she mumbled something akin to “I hope it’s not too late.”

Finally she turned around with her wand in hand and cast a charm he’d never heard before.

“What’s that?” he asked curiously.

“Huh? Oh, protection charm, you know, contraceptive, and agaisnt STD’s,” she replied
sheepishly.

“Oh,” was all he said.

She started moving back towards the tub and was about to step in when she started to laugh,
lightly at first, but harder with every giggle that left her mouth.

“What’s so bloody funny?” Draco, who was getting impatient and rather frustrated by now asked
huffily.

She managed to calm down quickly at his tone of voice and squeaked “You just looked so funny
sitting in there like that,” before he grabbed her and pulled her into the tub once again.

He moved them into a comfortable position and entered her once again. It still hurt a little,
but this time she didn’t even wince. “Finally,” he muttered, which made her giggle again, and
started moving, starting out slow, but getting faster with every stroke.

Jesus, he had never ever seen anybody as tight as her! He had long lost all ability of coherent
thought and just lost himself in her velvety folds and was near to the point where he thought his
breathing couldn’t get any heavier when he finally reached his release and collapsed on top of her.
He lay like this until his breathing had started to normal again when he realized that, while he’d
just had an orgasm, she hadn’t.

His head snapped up and he looked into her eyes, about to apologize – well, okay, perhaps not to
apologize, Draco Malfoy rule #4 - when she smiled and shook her head. “It’s okay,” she said,
“Parvati told me that it’s uncomfortable during the first few times.”

“It’s not okay!” he retorted, glaring at her. “When I have sex with someone, I want that the
girl actually enjoys herself. And you didn’t,”

“Oh I did alright, the look on your face when you came was priceless,” she said earnestly. He
looked at her for a moment before they both burst out laughing.

“Who would have thought that Draco Malfoy could be fun?” she mused after they had calmed
down.

“Who would have thought that Ginny Weasley could be fun?” he asked in return, kissing her temple
lightly. Much to his surprise he was actually having fun and feeling comfortable in her
presence.

“But that’s not the point right now,” he stated, drawing away a little, delighting in her
disappointed reaction at the loss of contact.

“What’s the point then?” she asked, frowning whe he picked her up and sat her on the part of the
tub where he stored his shampoos – he had a lot of shampoos, and conditioners too, at that – a
horizontal wall at the same height as the brim of the tub.

“The point is that Ginny Weasley should be *having* fun,” he said with a Cheshire-Cat-like
grin and rose to rest on his knees spreading her knees and moving in between them, taking one of
her nipples in his mouth again.

“Oh!” she sighed, threw her head back and put her hands on his shoulders, kneading them just to
do something.

Draco then licked his way down her stomach to her bellybutton and blew her a raspberry on it,
eliciting another set of giggles from her, and making him chuckle as well.

He moved his right hand, which had until then stroked her thigh, to his right, and after a
little probing and fumbling, he found what he was looking for: his favorite and softest sponge. He
dipped it in the water and then, pulling his lips away from her belly, started to rub her gently
with the sponge, first over her clit, but he didn’t stay there for long, but moved lower, though
her soft folds. He kept rubbing her thigh with his left hand all the while he was doing this. She
moaned in pleasure at his gentle touch and leaned back a little to rest her head against the wall.
After all, her sitting place wasn’t very spacious.

He pulled the sponge away and noticed that there was some blood clinging to it, mingled with
some of his semen. He dipped it in the water again and rinsed it out, and then continued his
ministrations. He did this for quite some time until her moans became getting louder and more
insistent, so he finally laid the sponge aside and lowered his head to her center, letting his
tongue trail a path up from her opening to her clit. She gave a little yelp of surprise, and her
moans were getting louder with every move he made with his tongue. He smiled at this and continued
to lick and suck her until her moans turned into half-screams, and when he finally used his right
hand to stroke her too she screamed his name once, shuddering all over and squeezed her legs shut,
trapping Draco in the process. She finally released the death grip she had locked him with, and he
pulled her body into the water again, turning so that she was now lying on top of him.

They lay like that until her breathing had returned to normal. “Wow,” she breathed against his
chest after what seemed like an eternity. He just grinned like a bloke who had just gotten
laid.

“I’m tired,” she said and looked up at him inquirngly. “I have to get back to Gryffindor
Tower”

He wanted to protest, but she cut him off before he could say something. “People will notice if
I’m not in bed tomorrow. I’m usually the last to get up” she reasoned, and he nodded his head. He
really didn’t know why, but he’d have preferred it if she stayed in his bed for the night.

“Can I borrow one of your cloaks? My PJ’s are kind of ruined,” she said, laughingly.

“Sure,” Draco replied. He then got out of the tub and picked up her wand to give it to her.
“Could you summon my wand?” he asked while sitting down on the brim of the tub.

“Sure,” she said and with a swish of her wand did so. He then took it and cast a drying charm,
first over her, then himself, and then fetched her his cloak.

He’d liked to have said something like “We should do this again sometime,” but he didn’t.
Neither did she.

Draco lay awake rather long that night, and when he finally had to get up, he hadn’t had barely
any sleep at all, and his neck was stiff and more than one muscle sore, as he had expected.

He somehow managed to get ready for school and trod down to the great hall to get some
breakfast, but how he wasn’t sure. The most outstanding thing he remembered about that morning was
that he had thrown up everything he had eaten five minutes later in Potions and that he felt like
someone had fed him Potter’s Potions creation: terribly sick.

Professor Snape had sent Pansy to escort him to the Infirmary, and he was quite sure that she
tried to apologize for her actions. Everything else had happened in a haze, and he only remembered
Madam Pomfrey examining him and giving him some sort of potion.

When he awoke again, it was because something was tugging at his arm, or rather somebody.

“Wha?” he choked out, trying to open his eyes. He was relieved to find that it was rather dark.
There seemed to come a soft glimmer of light from his left, probably from a candle.

“It’s me,” came a soft voice from his left, and he was both surprised to see Ginny Weasley
standing next to his bed, clad only in one of these modest hospital nightgowns.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, while sitting up, instantly regretting having done so,
since he was hit by a massive dizzy spell. Good god, what had Madame Pomfrey given him?

“Shhh, sit still, it passes after a moment,” he heard Ginny, as he’d come to think of her now,
say, and was grateful for her rubbing his back in slow, comforting motions.

“You still haven’t answered my question,” he said when his head had finally cleared enough that
the room had stopped spinning.

“Bacterial Infection, Madam P says. I can’t keep anything that I’ve eaten to myself,” she
explained.

“Ditto,” Draco said. “Guess where we got that?” he asked sarcastically, thinking about the
disgusting swamp episode.

“Oh, I told her I went to the kitchens to get some midnight snack and that I almost ran into you
on the way. She thinks it’s food poisoning,” she said smirking at his astounded expression.

“I’m impressed,” was all he said. “But what I’d really like to know is this: What were you doing
down by that swamp in the dead of the night, Ginny Weasley?”

She squirmed a little and finally seemed to get to the conclusion that telling him couldn’t
hurt. “But you won’t tell anyone,” she whispered, making a move as if turning a key in a lock and
throwing it away.

He nodded and said “I’ll keep silent as the grave,” in the most solemn way possible.

“Okay, I hid my Terry Pratchett books there, in a bag, so that Hermione can’t find them,” she
said. “You know, she thinks they’re silly and not at all informative, so she starts to lecture me
on my reading material everytime she finds them. She’s really a good friend, but she can be rather
exasperating at times”

Draco chuckled and pulled her nearer until she lay down on the bed beside him. He didn’t know
why, but he really enjoyed her company. He also didn’t know what it was they had, but her Hospital
gown had quite a lot of buttons, and that was all that mattered to him at the moment.

*The End (as far as I’m concerned at least...their story certainly hasn’t ended yet)*

Okay, so you can kill me now. Because I *know* that Draco is OOC, thank you very much.