Unofficial Portkey Archive

Title: The Game The Ties You Up In Knots
Author: Crystal
Disclaimer: I DO NOT own the game of Twister OR the title of this fic. The title of this fic is the catch phrase for the game, and I claim NO rights over them. The game and the title are Milton Bradley's.
Summary: Want to know how Draco and Ginny redefine the term 'tangled?'
Dedication: To The DLA. :D And to Tina, for giving me the chapter title. :D

Author's Note: Well, this is the end... Thank you so much to all my reviewers! I appreciate you took the time to tell me what you thought!

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"In all my years- never- never have I witnessed such reckless behavior-" Nostrils flaring in unspeakable anger, Professor McGonagall walked purposely down the hall, trailing quite a few students, all still stumbling from whiskey and occasionally burping out a stray flame.

Among them, and baring the back of the group, Ginny was the one of the only two looking not in the least fearful, almost hazily smiling in self-satisfaction. Draco, the latter, appeared increasingly livid at each wobbling step, muttering obscenities spewing unintelligibly from his mouth, grey eyes darting to glare holes in her back.

He blinked at first, letting his pursed lips stretch with a furious, mocking smile, and his finger stabbed the crease of her spine harshly.

Muffling a surprised yelp, her smile filtered off her lips and she turned to seeth at him, "what is your problem?" she hissed.

Draco sneered, casting an assured look at McGonagall as she ranted on, "I demand a rematch."

"What?" Ginny asked, unbelieving, slowing down to find his pace.

Large cinnamon eyes stared into his from the side, eyebrows furrowed. "You cheated, Weasley," he clarified venomously.

"Ha!" she replied, "and how did I do that?"

Frustration built to the breaking thought, making his voice come out hard, through the thin dents between his white teeth as he looked at her raised eyebrow, her quirked lips, and that fiery hair that wisped around her like...

Draco thought it might be best to scratch his eyes out, preventing any further unnecessary and unwanted thoughts.

"Because," he answered through that slight hesitation, "you- you tricked me-"

"I didn't do anything we didn't agree to," she said with formality, "we are both rightly sloshed."

"Yes, you are-" he began as they turned a corner.

"Get over it, Malfoy. I win, you loose."

"Listen, Weasley," Draco spat, eyes flashing, sparked by her overly-assured confidence. Frustration took a back seat, his pride rearing its head and taking over. "You might have won in the eyes of your lovely Gryffindor House, but I know just how much you enjoyed molesting me out there-"

The patented Weasley blush adorned her face, "you're stark-raving ma-"

Driving thoughts of how far that blush spread out of his mind, Draco scoffed, "please, we're you trying to hump me, or were you so caught up in the moment you didn't notice?"

The embarrassed look on her face morphed into one much more angry, causing her hair to stand on end. She walked faster, determined to not let the git see her in such a humiliated state. "Trust me, Malfoy, I wouldn't hump you if we were the last two people in the universe."

"If we were the last living people in the universe I'd kill myself to avoid spending the rest of my days with you-"

"That's considerate of my sanity, Malfoy-"

"Nevermind, I'll do you off instead. Why should my life be cut short?"

"Because even with all the extra room, your ego still wouldn't fit?"

"But you seemed to like the lack of room, being pressed up against me-"

"Get your mind out of the gutter, you arse! If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were the one loving every second of it-" she stopped, cringing, "oh, gross-" and was effectively shackled by the wrists, body stumbling as Draco's grip tightened, swinging her around to hit the wall.

Stars erupted into her vision, and she didn't even recognize the lithe body against hers until hungry lips collided painfully with hers, ravaging and insistent, biting and invasive. Draco Malfoy was kissing her like she was some delicious dessert laid out for him, and she could do nothing but shiver, limply accepting it in shock as her head pounded from recent impact.

With a last, lingering nibble, he pulled away, grey eyes dark like thunderclouds, betraying the coolness in his smirk and the aloof way he sauntered back. "Gross?" he asked huskily, one eyebrow reaching high.

Ginny blinked, two searching fingers touching her pink lips in amazement before jerking away with realization. "It was disgusting," she replied unconvincingly, tone wavering.

"Whatever you say, Weasley," he drawled, face lite up, even as he turned to leave.

"It was," she repeated, rushing to catch up to his long steps.

"Get over it."

"I hate you, Malfoy."

Cheerfully, he agreed, "I hate you too, Weasley."

Professor Dumbledore's expression could only be described as playful and mischievous, that twinkle in his eyes burning bright as he examined the swaying students awaiting judgement.

"Of course," his deep voice graveled after Minerva McGonagall explained the situation with a tight lip, "we will have to contact your parents of this- particular act- and we must inquire exactly who- and how this fire whiskey came to be present at this-" he paused tapping at his beard and gazing upward, "what would you call it, Mr. Finnigan?"

Seamus, at being addressed by the Headmaster, stumbled forward and back in surprise before righting himself. "Um- Well, er, sir, we were playing Twister..." he replied, eyes widened.

"Ah, I see. What is this game, might I ask, exactly? I've never heard of it, you understand?"

Theodore Nott chuckled absentmindedly, unknowing of the sharp look his Transfiguration Professor gave him, "Twister is a Muggle game, Headmaster- truly delightful if you don't play with a Parkinson cow-" he ungracefully and recklessly leaned almost accidentally against the nearest table of Dumbledore's, obviously even more gone than Seamus- and a resounding crash of a circular glass contraption shattered to a thousand pieces.

Ginny flinched, and Draco scowled at his fellow House-mate.

Theodore, on the other hand, blinked, straining to see the damage he'd done, "well, whoops..."

"Whoops is quite the correct exclamation," the Headmaster smiled, "don't worry over it, Mr. Nott."

Draco glared steadily at the now-spacing-out Theo.

"Excuse me, Headmaster," McGonagall interrupted, "but I can explain- Twister is a Muggle game, yes, and the point of it is to play against another person or team, keeping your balance on appointed certain colored circles-"

"Oh, that sounds absolutely spiffing-"

"-yes, I suppose it could be, but these students took advantage of the seclusion of the game and were consuming fire whiskey, Albus, on top of engaging in inappropriate public displays of affection-" Seamus grinned widely at that, "-betting on games, and-"

"Oh, who are our wagering enthusiasts?"

Slightly miffed at her superior's roaming eyes and mind, the Professor answered, anyway, "Draco Malfoy and Ginevra Weasley, Headmaster- but I do not see how this is-"

"Oh, please tell me who won? What were the terms? Miss Weasley?"

Sapphire eyes now on her, she blushed under his inquiring, wise gaze, unconsciously sneaking a glance at Draco, who stood silently, eyebrows high in a mixture of surprise and disgust. "Well, I won, Professor-"

"Congratulations, Miss Weasley!"

"Um, thank you..."

Draco answered, "the terms were we had to be both sloshed," bitterly he crossed his arms and shifted precariously against the wall, lips twisted in a sardonic, unhappy grin.

Cinnamon eyes watched them tilt up with the movement, lips that had only minutes before been pressed forcefully to hers, gnawing at them with zeal and creating unstoppable shivers up and down her spine...

His head turned, locking his moody eyes with hers, grimace morphing into a suggestive smirk. And then, unexpectedly, he winked.

Red painted her face and neck from embarrassment and anger, the sure way he leered at her both pleasing and infuriating. When did these unwelcome feelings start happening?

"Ah," Dumbledore noticed the exchange with interest, reaching up to adjust his half-moon spectacles, "I see." A short pause followed, "Minerva- I think we should take these student to Poppy, as of now, so she can give them a Sober-Up Potion. We'll discuss appropriate punishment when their minds are clear."

"This is all your fault, Weasley," Draco drawled from behind a long white curtain.

"My fault, Malfoy?" Ginny retorted, "you were the one who went out of your way to bother me, if you don't recall."

A flurry of fabric hushed the air, exposed the sitting, now soberly snapping Ginny Weasley. Looking up to take in his lean figure and the long, pale fingers clutching the cotton, she couldn't summon the will to tell him to go away.

"But, if you don't recall, you got quite something nice out of it," his white teeth flashed predatorily, taunting.

"Sod off," she told him tiredly, happy to find she could tell him to go away. Though she couldn't discern whether it was fortunate or not, he didn't do as told.

"So, you admit you liked it, do you?" he assumed slyly, dragging his hand down the curtains and casually sitting next to her.

"I never said any such thing," hotly she shot back, almost mesmerized by the thigh now radiating heat into hers.

"You acted like it, Weasley," breath licked at her neck and every muscle in her body stiffened unmercifully, refusing to jump away.

"No, I didn't," she squeaked, inching towards the sanctuary of free space. A strong arm wrapped around her waist, grasping underneath her thighs and determinedly, pulling her side to its former place.

"Yes, you did," he hissed, lacing bits of lustful greed and ire into his voice unintentionally, sweeping his lips over the bare skin between strands of thick red hair, "because I liked it too, Weasley."

"Stop," whispering so low she even doubted he heard the plea, all ideas of ceasing dissipated as he turned her head roughly to his, lips claiming an imprint upon hers, just as possessive and seizing, demanding of her the same intensity. Strangely, as before, she felt herself giving over to the voices inside her that could only say yes to the onslaught.

Slowly, and infinitely more agonizingly than last time, Draco pulled away.

"Okay," she admitted finally, "maybe I did like it a little bit."

--end--