Draco was lying on his bed, listening to the argument outside his door. The Trio was now a Duo, plus one corked-off git. Instead of the amusement he expected to feel, Draco was cold inside. A heavy hand of foreboding gripped him tightly. This didn't feel right at all.
There were many things in Draco's life that he had accepted as fact long ago, but they were now twisting and writhing off into a category labelled 'unknown'. It made him wonder if anything was definite in this world.
Fact number one: The Trio will always be there to annoy, embarrass, and confuse him.
Draco snorted and wondered if it was such a bad thing after all that their little group had broken up. But the cramping of his stomach told him otherwise. As much as he hated to admit it, they were a necessary annoyance. One always needed a nemesis after all, and three together was even better. At least then it had been interesting to play them off against each other. Now it was only one jealous prat and a couple of lovebirds so absorbed in their own little drama that they wouldn't notice if Voldemort slithered up and kicked them in the arse.
Then there was his own personal play unfolding. That damn Weasley girl.
Draco blinked in surprise for a moment. He hadn't thought of her as a Weasley for a while now. Hell, he hadn't thought of the Weasleys as Weasleys since shortly after he crashed through their roof. Each had an individual name and personality to go with the face he saw everyday. Calling them all 'Weasley' was too confusing, so he'd settled for using their given names and the habit stuck.
But it was dangerous.
A given name allowed for attachment and, dare he say it, a wary camaraderie. Now, in the quest for a good shag, he'd allowed himself to think of the littlest Weasley in ways that would no doubt have her brothers stuffing their fists down his throat before he could blink.
He glanced at the door, hearing nothing but silence from the hall, and shrugged. Apparently she hadn't run squealing down the stairs to tell them all that the bad man had snogged her senseless in the bathroom. Or maybe they had just forgotten in the excitement of precious Pott--
Knock, knock, knock.
Well, there went that idea.
"Malfoy, are you in there?"
Speak of the devil.
Draco rose from his bed, stretching lazily. A cold bath had done wonders for his temperament, but he still wanted to be left alone. He opened the door and lifted an eyebrow in question.
Harry was standing in the hallway, his shirt wrinkled with wet spots around the shoulder. No doubt from his little love-hen, who had surely cried her eyes out after the interlude in the hall.
"Mr. and Mrs. Weasley sent me up to fetch you. I told them that we had something we needed to talk with them about."
Draco nodded and stepped out into the landing, shutting his door behind him. Potter seemed to be nervous because he was twisting his fingers through the god-awful rug he called hair. Telling the Weasleys about their son would be bad enough without having that idiot trip all over himself with anxiety.
Straightening his shoulders, Draco stood taller and forced himself to follow Harry down the stairs and into the kitchen. The house seemed eerily quiet without explosions and laughter coming from the twins' room, who must have actually turned in early in anticipation of Christmas.
Draco twisted his lips in wry amusement. What a lovely time to be told that your son is making nice with the enemy. Then he shuddered as he recalled just who that enemy was, and Draco wondered idly if he was still considered the enemy.
To him, the Weasleys were now nothing more than regular human beings. Sure, there was the occasional chuckle when he thought about how threadbare their carpets were or how chipped the teapot was. But if it had been his family in the same situation, would they have taken him in with open arms after he had fallen through their roof and made the lives of their youngest children miserable for years before that?
The question didn't even merit an answer. Draco knew that his father would have thrown whoever dared enter the Malfoy sacrosanct out on their ear if not much worse. He certainly wouldn't have taken care of them if there were as few Galleons in the Malfoy coffers as there were in the Weasleys'.
Draco frowned. He didn't like to be indebted to others if he could avoid it. Perhaps when everything was settled, he could. . . but everything would never be settled! Lucius Malfoy had invested time, effort, and many a bow and scrape to his master for Draco, but never a drop of affection. With this combination, he'd be lucky to escape with his life if his father ever found him. No more Hogwarts, no more expensive brooms, no more Quidditch, no more. . . life.
The reality that Draco had been avoiding for so long finally crashed down on him. When he looked up, he found himself sitting in the kitchen. Mrs. Weasley was hovering over him in concern, with no recollection of how he had made it down the stairs and into the warm, bright room.
"Draco." She was shaking him on the shoulder, pressing one of those ever-present cups of tea into his hand as if it would make everything well again.
He blinked and swallowed, staring at her before allowing his eyes to drift over the table to Harry and Mr. Weasley. The teacup fell from his trembling hand and shattered on the floor. He couldn't do this to them!
They were staring at him mutely. Mrs. Weasley dug her fingers into his shoulders, and it seemed like she wanted to embrace him, but her husband held her back with a glance. Surprisingly, it was Harry who seemed to know what he was thinking and clapped a firm hand on his shoulder.
"Malfoy, you have to tell them."
Draco knew that his eyes must seem blank and staring to the others, he certainly felt blank and staring. Try as he might though, he couldn't bring himself to say a word.
Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled box of cigarettes and a folded piece of parchment. He set the note next to his teacup and fumbled with the box for a moment before handing Draco one of the short, white sticks with an apologetic glance at Mrs. Weasley.
"Maybe he'll calm down enough to say something if he has a fag first."
Mrs. Weasley sniffed and dropped her hands from Draco's shoulders, walking back to the seat next to her husband. Mr. Weasley was staring at him intently, waiting for something to happen.
Draco lifted the cigarette to his lips and pulled a draught of mentholated smoke deep into his lungs. After another two drags, he could feel the calming charm work enough so that he could speak.
"Potter, give that letter to Mr. Weasley."
Harry did as requested, albeit reluctantly. Obviously he didn't want to be the bearer of bad news either. Draco could see the fear tightening around Mr. Weasley's eyes, but the man accepted the paper and took a deep breath before unfolding it.
Absentmindedly, Harry took out a cigarette as well and started puffing away, the air around the end of the table where the two boys were at filling rapidly with smoke. Mrs. Weasley only had time to throw them a dirty look before her husband spoke up.
"I don't understand. Does this mean more than I think it does?"
Draco sighed, taking another puff from his cigarette before pinching the end. It disappeared in a wisp of smoke and he watched it dissipate. Mrs. Weasley, by this time, had already grabbed the letter from her husband, scanning it desperately for clues.
"Does it help you to know that the handwriting belongs to--" Draco swallowed hard, fingering Harry's box of cigarettes clumsily before taking another one out and putting it to his lips.
"The handwriting on that letter is my father's."
He had expected an explosion of denials, but what he received was a stony silence. Mrs. Weasley was shaking her head over and over, clutching the letter to her chest while her husband glared at Draco.
"Is this a joke, boy? I don't take kindly to such cru--"
"It isn't a joke, Mr. Weasley," Harry cut the man off. "I was the one who found the letters, Draco didn't even know they were there."
He had just been called by his first name, but somehow this didn't sink in. What did register was the fact that Potter had just defended him. This all felt terribly wrong.
"No!" Mrs. Weasley shouted out. "It can't be true! My Percy would never do something like this. He's still pining for Penelope, he wouldn't just throw her out the window."
Mr. Weasley took in Draco's still form with measuring eyes. "I don't believe they're lying, Molly. This may not be what it seems, but they aren't lying."
Draco breathed a sigh of relief and put a hand to his forehead. He wanted another cup of tea, but Mrs. Weasley was still in histrionics and he was afraid to bother her for something so trivial as tea, lest he get smashed over the head with her skillet.
"You said that there were letters? More like this?" Mr. Weasley asked Harry.
"I don't know if they are all like this, but it looked like they all had the same handwriting on the front."
"Bring them to me, Harry. I want to know what's going on."
Mr. Weasley's tone was firm and left no room for argument. Harry stood up and did as requested while Mrs. Weasley received some comfort from her husband. Draco opened an eye and glanced up at them.
"I want you to know that I appreciate your bringing this to our attention, Draco. I'm--" Mr. Weasley stopped and let a very small smile lift one corner of his mouth. "I'm very proud of you."
Draco stared. These words, from a man who had been mortal enemies with his father for longer than either one could probably remember and here he was, saying that he was proud of him as if none of that mattered. Saying that he was proud of him as his own father had never done. Not once.
"I-- do you need me here anymore, Mr. Weasley? I'm very tired."
The older man shook his head, pulling his wife a little closer to him. "I think we'll be fine. If we need to ask you something, it can wait until morning. Go to sleep."
Draco acknowledged the words with a small dip of his head and stood up, stumbling out of the kitchen on wobbly legs. He brushed by Harry as he made his way up the stairs, not bothering to say anything to the other boy. It had been so long since he had done more than doze and the door to his room was in sight.
Every time his head would hit the pillow, events from his past would play themselves through his mind. Normally there would be nothing wrong with this as he was reliving some of his more amusing memories. But ever since the incident, as he referred to it, his dreams carried a deep burning in his chest and he found it difficult to breathe at times. Something was so horribly wrong and there was nothing he could do about it. What he wouldn't give for some real sleep. Draco stumbled against his door and was about to turn the knob when a small voice made him stop.
"Draco? I thought you went to bed."
Sighing, he twisted his head around so that he could look at Ginny. In her nightdress. This wasn't what he needed right now.
"I was until you showed up," he stated blandly.
Ginny frowned and moved closer. "I was just going downstairs to get some water."
"I wouldn't, if I were you."
"Why?"
Such an innocent question with a very complicated answer. It didn't have to be, though.
"Just listen to me for once, stay out of the kitchen tonight. Your parents are talking and don't want to be disturbed."
"What are they talking about?" she asked, her eyes very large in the softly lit hall.
"I don't know," Draco lied. He moved back toward the door again, eager to escape another draining episode like that of earlier. The stupid girl apparently didn't have enough sense to stay angry for long periods of time, and at the moment, he didn't have the emotional strength to go for round two with her just yet.
Now there was that small hand on his arm, gripping it tightly with concern.
"Is there something wrong? You don't seem yourself."
Draco almost laughed; it really was too amusing. After he had dropped her on her arse in the bathroom earlier, she was coming to him now asking if he was all right. He didn't really want to be alone, but he also wasn't up to another one of their arguments either.
But the warm hand on his arm was there for comfort, not war for once, and Draco couldn't bring himself to snap at her or pull his arm away.
"Ginny, there are a million things wrong with me. Right now, they all seem to be ganging up at once and I'd really like to be left alone, if you don't mind."
He could feel her hand slip away and Draco half turned to look Ginny in the eyes. She was small, and so fragile looking as she pulled her arms up tight against her chest in an attempt to keep away the winter chill.
A warm frisson went up his spine as he noticed her famous nipples peaking from under one of her arms and the soft cotton of her nightdress. She didn't even have a dressing gown on. Now the abandoned desire from earlier was rearing its head and he groaned in exasperation.
Ginny was looking at him speculatively, her head tilted to the side as if he was a great puzzle that she was trying to figure out.
"You don't really want to be left alone, do you?"
"If I said I do would you leave?"
She shook her head. "No, I'm not going anywhere. Tell me what's the matter."
Draco sighed in frustration as he opened the door to his room. The stupid chit wouldn't leave him be.
"Have it your way, but at least come in. It's freezing in this hall and I'm not about to start telling you all of my dirty secrets out here."
Ginny eyed him warily, no doubt looking for an ulterior motive, before shrugging her shoulders and following him inside. The room itself was cold and she shivered, rubbing the backs of her arms.
"It isn't any better here, you know."
Draco chose to ignore this and flopped down on the bed dramatically, motioning for her to sit in the chair at the desk across from him. She complied, pulling her nightdress down over her legs modestly.
Draco snorted and rolled his eyes. It wasn't as if he hadn't seen every inch of her body already, even before their little interlude in the bathroom. Those pictures that the Creevey boy had taken were very. . . revealing. Now that he was here with her in person though, he drank in the soft expanse of her belly, not firm and flat, but gently rounded under the thin cloth. His eyes then trailed up to her breasts with the peach coloured nipples he knew became so small when she was aroused. And then his betraying eyes travelled further, up to her-- he was staring at her, and she knew it.
Not allowing himself to be cowed by Ginny's murderous expression, Draco continued to peruse her at his leisure, raking his eyes over her shivering body.
"I'm not here so you can undress me with your eyes, Draco Malfoy," Ginny spit out acidly. There was a rosy flush creeping up her cheeks and Draco found it very flattering despite her general colouring.
"Then why are you here, Ginny Weasley?" he asked, reaching into his pocket for a fag. After two puffs she still hadn't answered and the smoke from his cigarette was circling her head and she tilted it to the side to study him. Her face was blank and serene and she would have looked terribly innocent if it wasn't for her eyes, they were a little too sharp. Finally she spoke.
"I'm here because you need someone to talk to and I--" she broke off, twiddling her fingers together. "I thought that I might be able to help."
"What makes you think that I would tell you anything?"
Ginny shrugged spasmodically. She was still weaving her fingers tightly and Draco could tell she was making an effort to reign in her temper. "Why not me? I know you would never tell any of my brothers anything. And if it's important, my parents would probably be the last to know."
Draco laughed briefly, taking another lungful of smoke before stretching out further on his back, one hand propping up his head. "Actually, your parents already know. I brought it to their attention a few moments ago and your precious Potter is down there now to keep them from falling apart."
That surprised her. "What happened?"
Pinching the end of his cigarette, Draco shrugged. "It really isn't any of your business, but then again, he is your brother."
Ginny wrinkled her nose. "Is this about Ron?"
"You would think that, wouldn't you? But no, it's the more disgusting one."
"Just tell me already! You know that you will eventually, so stop beating around the bush."
Draco measured her slowly up and down, taking in the frustrated face and clenched hands. It was true, she would find out soon enough from someone else, so he may as well be the bearer of bad news. But God, did he really have to tell her about his father? What if she assumed that he was a poof too? How could she though, after what had happened earlier? Draco was assured that his manhood would remain intact if he told her; there had been no confusion then about where his desires lay. He nodded to himself in satisfaction.
"Did you know that your brother Percy is gay?" he asked confidently.
Ginny blinked in confusion for a moment before inclining her head to regard him. "How did you know about that?"
Draco started, thrown by the fact that she not only knew, but didn't seem to care. "I-- we-- Potter and I found some letters under a loose floorboard."
"Oh." Ginny covered her mouth. "Poor Percy." She shook her head for a moment before looking up. "I still don't understand why you're so upset about it though. After Penelope found out that he liked boys, she was upset, but that's only because she'd been his girlfriend for years. You don't have anything to do--"
"The letters were from my father, Ginny," Draco cut her off quietly, pulling out another cigarette and putting it to his lips so he didn't have to see the disgust and horror on her face. It was bad enough that he could hear her gasp. When he did finally glance up, it was only because she had sat beside him on the bed. Ginny laid a hand on his arm, forcing him to look into her tear-filled eyes.
"I'm sorry, Draco. You must feel terrible."
"Yes, well, how would you feel if it was you in my situation?"
Ginny's eyes bored into his as she reached up to tuck an unruly strand of hair behind his ear. "Like me; hurt, angry, confused." She paused, allowing this to soak in before continuing. "Is this what that whole thing in the bathroom was about? Are you unsure of the way you feel so you needed to test--"
Draco grabbed her hand and set it on top of his lap, pressing down firmly so she could feel his erection through the fabric of his trousers. "Does this feel like I'm confused?"
She sucked in a breath at the obvious evidence of his arousal, and he supposed it also surprised her that he was in that state because of her.
"N-no," she stuttered, trying to pull her hand away but he kept it in place, his eyes flickering over her face.
"I'm not confused, Ginny. I know exactly what I want."
The futile motions of her hand trying to escape made his erection bob and quiver, thinking that it was finally going to be appeased when apparently, it was wrong.
"I'm not here for a shag, Draco. I came in here because I thought you might need an ear. Since it's you though, I should've known better."
Ginny wrenched her hand away from his crotch and stood up, her ruffled dignity evident from the way her shoulders straightened and set rigidly. He couldn't let her leave, not now!
Draco reached up and grabbed her arm, tugging hard with the intention of making her sit down again. He must have pulled too hard though because instead of sitting down, she fell onto him with a muffled cry of indignation. Her back was firm against his chest and Draco brought an arm up to pin down her wriggling waist, the other arm snaking over her breasts to clamp a hand on her mouth.
"Quiet!" he hissed into her ear. "Do you want the entire house to come up here and see you like this?"
Ginny shook her head violently. He couldn't see her face, but he imagined that she appeared to be very annoyed. Draco slowly removed the hand over her mouth and she gave a vicious snap to them with her teeth as they receded.
"Son of a--"
Draco cradled his injured hand and pushed her to the floor with his elbow. "What's wrong with you, you stupid cow?"
"Wrong with me?" she started huffily, picking herself up off the floor to hover over him like a ghost in her white cotton. "I'll tell you what's wrong with me! I come in here to help you, give you a friendly shoulder, and all you can do is maul me like some animal."
Draco lifted an eyebrow and smirked, lying on his side like a lazy cat with one hand propping his face. "Is there a less bestial way to maul someone?"
Ginny fumed for a moment, her face blotching an angry red as she sputtered. "How-- you-- you're incorrigible!"
One corner of his mouth elevated in amusement. "But you like me that way, don't you, Ginny?"
"No, I do not. Why can't you behave like a normal boy instead of a prat?" she asked, hands out and almost pleading.
Draco shrugged. "Normal is for silly little romantic twits, like you."
He jumped from the bed and stalked her across the room in a twisted tango. For every step he took forward, she mirrored it by taking one step back. "You don't like normal anymore than I do. You hate it; despise it, even though you want everyone else to believe that you are such a good girl. Inside though, you're as much an animal as I am."
"No, I'm not. You shouldn't dare to compare yourself to me, Malfoy. You're nothing but a cold-blooded reptile. You don't like me, you don't like anyone but yourself," she whispered shakily, stepping back further toward the door.
"Don't presume," Draco chided, waggling his finger mockingly.
Ginny visibly quailed as her back hit the door and dropped a hand to search for the knob. However, Draco was too fast and he grabbed the seeking fingers carefully.
"Now, now," he whispered in her ear. "None of that, gosling. Just admit it and I'll let you go."
"Admit what?" she asked harshly, trying to pull her fingers out of his grip and failing.
"Tell me that you fancy me, that you want me. Go on; whisper it in my ear right here. I won't tell a soul."
Draco leaned back to see the effect of his words and was startled by the pure venom in her eyes.
"I hate you," she breathed, slowly enunciating each syllable. "And I hope that your pecker shrivels up and falls off."
Sweeping over her body with his eyes, Draco noted that her skin was contracted with goose bumps and those beautiful little nipples were diamond hard under her nightdress. Wasn't that interesting?
Draco dropped her fingers and spanned her waist with his hands, pulling her to him. She didn't resist, almost as if she were anticipating it. He must remember to get her this riled up every time, it apparently did wonders for her libido.
"You wouldn't really want my pecker to fall off, would you?" Draco asked, lips twitching.
Ginny stared up at him mutinously. "Yes," she replied firmly.
He sighed. "This game is very amusing. However, don't you think it time we set it aside in favour of more... enjoyable pastimes?"
She faltered then and dropped her gaze to the floor, mumbling. "What are you on about?"
"This," Draco gestured to himself and then her. "The fighting and bickering, the arousal that always follows. I don't mind the last, but a man can only take so many hot cuppas to the goods before he becomes slightly wary of the whole notion."
Ginny looked back up into his face, searching, but not finding what she was seeking. "This isn't arousal, Draco."
He only gave a pointed glance at her straining breasts and the heated flush creeping up her neck. "Really?"
She crossed her arms over her chest with a glare. "Yes."
Draco leaned down to kiss her, forcing her mouth open, as she stood rigid with fear. He grabbed the backs of her arms, kneading the soft flesh before she relented and threw herself into the activity with more enthusiasm than even he was expecting. Ginny loosened her arms and her small, curious fingers snaked down his stomach to claw at the edge of his shirt.
Instead of continuing to kiss her as he wanted to do, Draco pulled away and whispered into her ear. "What is it then?"
Apparently, once her mind was on something, Ginny had a difficult time letting go of the idea. She demonstrated this by pushing him across the room and into the opposite wall. Draco's back hit hard against the plaster, all breath in his lungs escaping with a loud whoosh as he stood there, unable to move from shock.
She attacked.
Ginny reached up her small hands and pulled his face close to hers. "You've convinced me," she said before sucking at his mouth frenziedly.
Draco's eyes were still open and wide as saucers. The unexpected perks of arguing with a redhead were suddenly becoming clear. The notion that he was actually seducing her flew directly out the window and he gave up the pretence, quickly becoming an active participant instead of a sounding post for Ginny's lust-filled rampage.
Her lips were cool and moist against his as she bit and clawed her way up his frame until she was perched on his hips like a child. Their difference in height soon became unnoticed as she clung to him, digging her cold fingers into his scalp for balance and nibbling on his ear.
There was a fire roaring in his chest. Unlike the previous times it had happened, this was instead a pleasant warmth that spread down into his fingertips. When he dropped one of his hands to push up her nightdress, sparks literally crackled the air. It was a true meeting of witch and wizard unlike any he had experienced before.
Pure lust guided his fingers up her thigh to the nexus between her legs, rubbing the warm spot until he could feel a small liquid gush through the fabric of her knickers. Ginny's moans fuelled Draco as he dipped an experimental finger around the lacy edge and past her damp curls, stabbing deeply inside of her.
Ginny gasped and clenched hard on his finger as he plunged it in and out of her overheated flesh rapidly. Her hands slid down to his face, her clever tongue tracing his lips before dipping into his mouth.
Keeping a steady rhythm below, Draco moved his tongue against hers, flicking the inside of her mouth in time to the thrusts of his finger. Ginny's hips ground against his hand, swivelling desperately before he removed it.
The low moan from her throat was one of disappointment. She slid down over his hips bonelessly, breaking away from his mouth long enough to pull him onto the bed.
Draco fell on top of her, his weight crushing her breasts against his stomach as she snaked a hand between them to unbutton his trousers.
The tables were turned now.
. . . . . . . a bit later (Edited for content. For the full version, including artwork, join my yahoo group @ http://groups.yahoo.com/group/stafic. You must be of age.)
Draco moved down her body to lay a flushed face on top of her stomach, allowing her to rub her fingers through his hair distractedly. The only sounds between them was their laboured breathing and as long as she was quiet, he would let her continue petting his hair.
"That was . . ." Ginny trailed off, blessedly silent again. Draco grumbled something, his eyes closed and still panting from his exertions. It was all well and good for her, she only had to lie there, he had done all the bloody work. Now if she would shut up, he could finally go to sleep and even have a nice warm pillow besides.
"We really shouldn't do this again. I mean, what would my mum say?"
God, couldn't she put a clamp on it!
Draco pointedly attempted to ignore her, but she prattled on, making his perfect little pillow wobble and shake with each word.
"Draco? Are you listening to me? I said we shouldn't do this again."
"Shut your trap, woman and let me sleep," he mumbled. Draco could feel her body tense. Wonderful, now she was in a huff.
"Shut my trap? Get off of me, you disgusting--"
Draco lifted his head and opened one eye, squinting at the faint light from the lamp on the desk. "Yes, shut your trap. Your stomach happens to be a very comfortable place to have a lie-in and I'm tired. Can't sleep with all that yapping, can I?"
He didn't know where it came from, but Draco suddenly found himself clobbered over the head by a round, wooden object and shoved to the side of the bed. Ginny was shaking with rage, grumbling to herself as she hunted for her nightdress. Finally she found it but didn't put it on immediately as she was still too angry to do much more than splutter incoherently.
"That's the last time I ever sleep with you, Draco Malfoy!" she hissed in a stage whisper.
Draco only raised an eyebrow and rubbed the back of his head. "I've heard that before, gosling. They always come back, you know."
"They?" Ginny asked, standing in the centre of the room with her arms crossed, looking for all the world like a small volcano about to explode. "Who are they? God, you've probably slept with half the girls in Slytherin, haven't you?"
Draco shrugged. "Something like that. You're no loss." He narrowed his eyes in thought. "Actually, I take that back. You're more cushy than any of the others, and quite the lay."
Ginny's eyes widened in outrage. She was about to scream, and he couldn't have that. It was stupid to mess around with a girl who had. . . five, no six, brothers. But it was even worse to make her angry on top of it all.
"Oh calm down," Draco soothed, sliding off the bed to walk toward her, not ashamed of his nakedness. "I meant that all in a good way. Really, you are spectacular. Ginny." He added this last part to make the message hit home, smiling with all his teeth in what he hoped was a very charming manner.
"I'm cushy?" she managed to ask in a strangled whisper.
"Well, of course. Your belly is so soft, and your bottom is padded perfectly."
"Padded!" Ginny's hand flew immediately to her hips, pushing at the small amount of fat tracing them with a sullen finger before reaching up that same hand to smack Draco across the face. "How dare you say that to me!"
And away she went, opening the door and slamming it back into its frame, before tromping away up to her room, not wearing a stitch. Draco sighed; there went that lovely, self-heated pillow he'd wanted. It was damn cold in the room and he shivered, realising that his stones had just shrunk to the size of raisins. Well, if that wouldn't impress the girl . . .
He snorted and climbed back into bed, not bothering to clothe his body, but opting instead to burrow under the thick quilts. Draco lifted himself up to beat the feather pillow a few times, trying to get it into the right shape before giving up entirely. Damn her.
She really was comfortable.