**Author's Note: Song lyrics in this chapter are from the song "Sweet Dreams" by the Eurhythmics. This song was also featured in "House Unity: Lessons". Happy Reading!**
CHAPTER TEN - Together
"I missed-" It was bad enough she nearly had to shout the words as he herded her to a mangy-looking table in the corner, but as soon as she was sitting, he placed his finger over her lips.
"I know," he responded over the music. "But Genevieve, it's only been a few days. Surely you can live without me that long." The stress on the name didn't go unnoticed, but before she could comment on it, he was kissing her again, sweetly, lightly, reminding her they were bound by more than lust, by passion.
This was a protective kiss. This was a loving kiss, and her heart turned over in her chest. He was right. There was no need for words, and time had no bearing on them. They were here now, and she wouldn't think of anything else.
"Surely I can, Drake." It felt funny, and she smiled against his lips. It was almost easy to forget she'd nearly cursed him a few nights before, had her wand pointed at his heart.
I couldn't hate what we've become if I didn't love you so much.
He stiffened and put his hands to her hips, jerking her toward him and onto his lap, the skirt of her dress crowding up around her thighs.
Now that was more like Drake, more like the randy teenager he'd once been. "Draco," Ginny hissed, shoving at her skirt. "What are you doing? We in pub-"
"Kiss me," he interrupted her, putting one hand on her neck, his fingers insistent and gripping as he made his demand. When he saw the puzzlement in her eyes, he kissed her forcefully, pulling her close to him. Her legs now dangled on either side of his chair, but she couldn't wriggle from his grasp to make herself decent. When she tried, he put his lips to her ear, thrusting his hand into her hair and moving her head so her lips lined up against his neck.
"Theo Nott is here," he whispered in her ear, the words feeling like a sob.
Even here, he couldn't escape.
Ginny froze then, her thighs clamping around his, and she felt a fresh surge of mingled terror and anger surge through her. Instead, understanding the importance of her anonymity, she kissed him again, putting her hands to the side of his face to hide as much of it as possible.
"Hair color," he said between kisses, his pale eyes straining to their corners to follow Nott's progress through the club.
"We can't change it, Draco, the Mug-"
He interrupted her again and she felt the length of his wand pressed against her arm. "I'll do yours if you'll do mine," he said, the words a breathless chuckle in her ear. Even at a time like this, she thought, he could be a cocky git.
She nodded, however, her lips moving against his, and she moved her wand to point up.
The spells got lost in the sound of the music, the movement of his lips against hers, and the completely inappropriate feel of him pressed against her through the satin of her knickers.
Sweet dreams are made of this, who am I to disagree?
The song pounded in her ears and she gasped as his hips bucked, limning his hardness brushing between her thighs. She shook her head as though to clear it, succeeding in tangling his long fingers more firmly in her hair, and much to her disbelief, the song played on.
Traveled the world and the seven seas, everybody's looking for something.
Beyond them, she heard cries of outrage and Nott's slightly mad laughter jagging over the music, and though she knew he was likely shoving Muggles left and right, or worse, Draco would not allow her to turn her head, instead keeping his hand fisted so tight in her hair she couldn't move.
"Here," he said, and she wasn't sure whether it was an offer of himself or a command to stay, but he used his free hand to press the small of her back and move her against him, rocking her body and making her legs flex and relax in rhythm with the song (their song) and his movements.
This was what she had wanted, upon first hearing those words-
Some of them want to use you, some of them want to get used by you…
-She had wanted to be against him, wanted to be on him and in him and around him, and Ginny cried out as a hard edge of denim-Gods, wasn't that uncomfortable for him?-chafed her through her underwear.
"I need… you to…" She couldn't find the words, either from shame or from mindless arousal, he couldn't tell, but Draco felt as though he'd been split cleanly in two, one half of him worrying about the Death Eater wandering among them and the other half of him consumed by desire for the woman he'd waited so long to touch.
She was on fire in his arms just as she'd always been, sparking and burning at the slightest of his touches, and he thought fiercely if only people could see her, if only people could watch her at her peak, they would never question his decision.
This woman in his arms was a woman to die for, and it didn't matter who she was or what her name was or what her beliefs were.
Knowing what she needed, knowing what he needed, careless of their location or the danger they could be in, he slid his hand underneath her, under the roundness of her bottom, underneath her skirt, his fingers brushing her damp knickers, fingertips grazing her swollen lips from behind.
A broken moan left her lips, shock and need mingling together as her mind dimly registered the fact that they were surrounded by people, by writhing bodies, by dancing fools who had no idea of the monsters in their midst or the lovers in their throng. Her head fell back and he growled in her ear.
The half of him tracking Nott and his cohorts through the club reared its head and he picked her up, not wanting her face in full view, not wanting to put her at risk. My brave little fool, he thought, but it was obliterated by the rush of blood through his ears, the song still wrapping itself around him as he stood and turned her.
Some of them want to abuse you, some of them want to be abused.
Her back hit the painted-black wall and her shout reached his ears, made him wince, but her legs were already wrapped around his waist.
Everyone can see this, he thought wildly, sinking his teeth into the white skin of her neck and feeling her hands race down his body, plucking at buttons and snaps and zips and leaving parts of his chest bare and gleaming with sweat, releasing him from the thick, unfamiliar denim, springing hot into her hand.
Wrong, wrong, so wrong, she thought, knowing they could be seen or caught or worse and her possessiveness doubled, trebled, and she bared her teeth as he thrust against the barrier of her knickers.
Mine, she thought proudly. And I could show everyone just like this, could show them all what this is and what we have because I am not ashamed.
I am not afraid.
Had she said it or only thought it? She didn't know, couldn't tell as his eyes blazed wide then slid into a squint with the sting of perspiration falling into them.
"Love you so much," he managed, knowing she knew it but needing to repeat it before completing their coupling.
"Mine," she said it out loud, her mind now working with more than one syllable at a time. The head of his erection nudged the sensitive spot at the top of her cleft, and she thought if she spoke more than one word at a time, the whole fantasy might unravel, her love gone from her arms. She needed him here, needed to be him, needed to be one with him, in case-
In case this was the last time. "Yours," she whispered, laying her forehead to his and linking an arm around his neck as she pulled her knickers aside and took him into herself.
If it was to be the last, she would accept nothing but this, nothing but the passion and the heat because this was them.
She moved her hand between them, positioning her first and second fingers around his base where they were joined, feeling him leap beneath the added touch and feeling the crispness of her curls tickling her fingertips.
"Witch," he managed, risking the precipitous hold on her to grasp her wrist and pin her hand above her head. She'd finish it before it started, sneaky, manipulative Weasley.
She should have been a Slytherin.
And that voice, that voice, that song soaring over them rang in her ears and her nearly-shouted moan echoed it, was hidden by the song, and her ankles locked together convulsively, her heels drumming into his back. He braced one hand against the wall and leaned into her, pinning her there with his weight and thrusting into her with alternating thrusts, shallow and deep, rhythmic and at the end sporadic, and he spilled himself into her as the song wound to a close.
They stood that way for several long moments and he could hear her gasping for breath, sounding like sobs and laughter interspersed, and he reached behind him to unlock her legs from around him, those long beautiful legs. "I'm sorry," he said, kissing her forehead as she tried out her legs, wobbling a bit. He'd merely meant this as a getaway, not some sort of demand for sex, and certainly not to take her against the wall like some kind of-
"I'm not," Ginny said, reaching between them to zip up his jeans, letting her hand linger for just a moment longer than was probably necessary, pressing against him through the denim. He found the weight of her hand somehow comforting, and he captured her lips with his, kissing her with his lips only.
By tacit agreement, they linked hands and started for the doors on unsteady feet, knowing they needed to escape before anything happened, before Nott's presence drew others of his ilk-
Others like me, Draco's mind supplied nastily.
-and when the cold evening air hit them, Ginny looked up at him.
"Well," she asked, looking up at the chestnut silk of his glamoured hair. "Do I even want to know what color my hair is?"
He felt something constrict in his chest and he brandished his wand as though removing a glamour. "It was brown," he said simply, taking her hand in his and wondering how long they could stroll along the streets before something called one of them back.
He couldn't bring himself to tell her he hadn't changed her hair color at all.
He hadn't had the heart to dim that flame.