**Author's Note: This is the last chapter of Sick. I can't thank you all enough for the kind reviews and the patience. One of the reasons I was slow to update is that while I was editing this fic for public consumption, I was writing a sequel featuring the character who, in my opinion, stole the scene. So, if you are at all interested in reading about Pansy… and Ron… check out Slytherin Commons or my memories. Happy reading!**
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE - Sick
He needed familiarity, somewhere comfortable. The throngs of reporters and people wanting to shake his hand were just weird, just plain bizarre. He was descended from the second-most hated man in the wizarding world, for Merlin's sake, why were these people lauding him?
It was just… embarrassing.
And she had done it.
Draco had managed to excuse himself politely after what felt like eons of chatter, his mind quite simply refusing to grasp what she'd done. She had… validated him.
A Ministry woman, a more than respected member of the wizarding world, her family impeccable, her reputation (until recently) completely unmarred. And she had validated him, had beseeched the people in front of her to notice what they would have otherwise tactfully ignored.
That ought to have been enough to get him thinking, Draco thought as he slammed the front door to his house, loosening his tie and growling at the house elf who tried to help him. After all, he hadn't been good enough to remain sociably in her home, sure as hell hadn't been good enough to offer her presents. Hadn't been good enough to continue to be with her.
But he'd been good enough to praise in public, lavishly and unnecessarily?
The crafty witch hadn't stopped there, though. He walked into his study, shoved his hands in his hair, and ignored his reflection in the long mirror that ran behind the mantel. She'd given him a message.
They were both intelligent. He refused to believe it had been anything but a thinly veiled personal statement to him.
"Draco, the changes you have made, the trust you have bestowed, are thought of fondly and often, and they shall not be forgotten."
Shall not be forgotten.
It should have been enough that she would not forget him, but it wasn't. He had been rejected, Merlin hex it, rejected. And she would not forget him?
He caught a glimpse of his own countenance in the mirror and let out a shouted oath, hating the thin cheeks and the tired eyes. Hated the man who had worked himself to distraction simply because he didn't want to want a Weasley, and he didn't want to be unwanted by a Weasley.
Draco took a deep breath, clenched his hands around the corner of the mantelpiece to steady himself, and rocked back on his heels, ordering himself to take a deep breath. Breathe deeply, count to ten, recite your defensive spells, anything to keep from losing control.
He'd been so remarkably under control for the last two weeks, it would be a bloody damned shame to lose it now.
He moved to take a bottle of Firewhisky down from the shelf, but his hand encountered empty space. He bared his teeth, angered by the interruption into his thoughts, angered by the missing bottle, angered by his failure to replace the missing bottle. It was unlike him to forget such a thing. Wanting to lash out, he snatched one of the remaining bottles and dashed it against the mantelpiece in a snap of juvenile temper, feeling the alcohol splash all over his hand and his arm as he roared for a house elf.
"Hildy. HILDY!" The sallow little elf appeared at his side, large eyes unreadable. "Why has my bottle of whiskey not been replaced?"
The squeak that was returned to him set his teeth on edge. "Master tells Hildy he is wanting to get the spirits himself always. Master is always getting what he wants."
Draco put a hand to another bottle, stroking his fingers over the glass and resisting the urge to break it, as well. "Master is always getting what he wants," he murmured, his voice bitter. "You may want to revise that statement as you clean that up." The elf stood silently, and Draco finally moved, grabbing his suit jacket from where he'd left it crumpled on the bed. "I'm going out, Hildy."
"Will Master be joining us for dinner, sir?"
Draco didn't glance back. "Who the hell cares?"
~~~
A nap. That, she thought, could cure all ills. It was a good remedy for any malady, but it seemed particularly attractive now. She was fairly certain if she stayed awake much longer, the command of "wait" was going to drive her quite buggy.
She hadn't slept well in weeks, waking up early after falling asleep late night after night, so she relished the soporific effect the day had inflicted on her. She started shedding clothing the minute she shut the door to her flat, kicking off her heels, peeling off her stockings, ridding herself of every scrap of the day before sliding into an enormous, battered Quidditch tee Ron had ordered for her long ago. He had claimed, she remembered, that she'd nicked too many of his and Harry's, and that she deserved her own.
Ginny snuggled onto her sofa, feeling that napping on the sofa wasn't quite so decadently lazy as napping in her bed. She stretched out her long legs, pointing her toes so the very tips of them touched the opposite arm of the couch. Somehow, she felt comfortable and on edge all at once, wondering what Pansy could have meant. Wait, she'd said. And the strangest part of it was, Ginny trusted her. She doubted anyone knew Draco quite like his old housemate, and whether she was a bit of a tart or no, she seemed to be genuine.
Ginny wiped the back of her hand over her eyes, irritated to find the starts of tears there. Damn him.
She hadn't been ready to get tangled up with anyone else.
Knowing she wouldn't be able to sleep just yet, Ginny got up to do one last thing before settling down to rest.
She fell asleep with the copy of Wizarding Wares and How to Fix Them loosely clasped in her arms.
~~~
He was with her.
She sighed and rolled over, her back aligned with the back of the couch so she could slide one bare leg between his, the fine cloth of his trousers smooth against her legs as she held him there for a moment.
Ginny arched her back, the worn, nubby fabric of her makeshift pyjamas chafing her nipples as she pressed against him, and he rewarded her with a little groan, a soft kiss to her sleepy lips.
He whispered her name and she whispered his, safe in dreams to be as tender as she liked, to let her head fall back as he traced his lips over the soft skin of her throat, to shiver vulnerably as his teeth grazed at her pulse point.
Her fingers moved over his shoulders, over the fine cotton of his shirtsleeves, and she smiled, her lips buried in his hair as she thought of him dressed in his suit among all those bystanders, looking wonderful and handsome and underappreciated.
He was so beautiful, even with her eyes closed, even in sleep.
One hand moved from the back of her knee to the back of her thigh, sliding up her shirt and covering one round buttock. She felt him stiffen and shiver as he discovered she was bare beneath the tee-shirt and she laughed, low and sultry and beautiful, the laugh ending on a moan as his hand slid between her thighs from behind and brushed over her, twining somnolence with hypersensitivity as he stroked her.
Ginny's hands tensed, moving into claws to grip and scrape down his back as he teased her into arousal, dampening his fingers and bringing long, half-moaning sighs from her lips.
He curved one finger, the length of it pressing between her swollen lips even as his fingertip found the aching center of her, flicking against her with alternating rough and gentle strokes. She cried out in his ear, her fingers going tense then lax on his back as they slid down to his slacks, beneath his waistband, untucking his shirt and pressing to overheated skin.
"I need you," she whispered, and she did not blush, did not cringe against how telling her own words were. She was secure here, she could say anything she wanted.
His answer was a stifled moan against the juncture of her shoulder and neck, and she pressed her lips tightly together, arching against him even as she tried to unfasten his slacks. It was uncharacteristic for him not to laugh, not to chuckle at her words, but her thoughts spun away as she finally freed him and hard length of him brushed against her, slid against the swollen heat of her, slid against his own probing fingers, growing slick and hot with her moisture.
"You, too," he whispered, and she didn't have any time to think on what that meant, because he slid his free hand beneath her shirt, kneading and stroking her taut, sensitive breasts even as he slid into her, his slight, rocking thrusts pushing her back against the back of the couch and finally tipping her over that last edge. She hadn't the strength to scream his name as she felt she ought, repeating it instead in a reverent, sobbing voice as she wrapped her arms around him.
"Miss you," she said as the last tight clench of her climax laid claim to him and brought forth his own finish.
"Miss you so much," she repeated, and she felt his back shake beneath her hands even as she felt his tears on her neck.
Dreams, she thought, banding her arms tighter around him. "Shhhh." How bizarre they could be.
~~~
She was falling off the couch.
It wouldn't have bothered her-ordinarily, she could just scoot herself back over and be fine. But damn it, something was in her way. In fact, unless she were much mistaken, the same something that was shoving her off the couch was also the only thing holding her on.
Wait.
Ginny opened one eye, found herself face-to-face with a very awake Draco Malfoy, and screamed.
He winced and jumped, his arms and legs untangling from hers as the shock of her banshee voice rendered him graceless, and he dumped her arse-first onto the floor in front of the couch.
"Fuck!" Ginny yelped as her bum landed squarely on the book she'd been holding when she'd fallen asleep. The spine of the bloody thing had jammed right into her tailbone, for Merlin's sake. "What are you doing?!"
Draco gaped at her for a moment. What in bloody fuck did she think he was doing?! He had come in, found her lying there asleep, gorgeous, half-naked, and holding his book. He'd laid down with her, and… "You were asleep that whole time?!" Gods. She'd told him she needed him, missed him, and she'd just fucking been dreaming, been asleep. It had meant nothing to her.
He'd been an idiot to think she'd changed her mind, anyway, and now he felt like a cad for having taken advantage of her.
"What?" Ginny looked at him, really took in the situation for the first time.
He smelled like whiskey.
"Are you drunk?" Thoughts occurred to her one after the other. "Oh, Merlin. Did you break my door down again? Did we just shag?"
He gaped at her, then sat up, bracing his elbows on his knees and putting his face in his hands. "I'm not drunk," he said slowly. He'd taken her when she wasn't even aware he was there. He'd broken into her apartment. "I'm just a fucking idiot."
Ginny pulled her hair back from her face, holding it back with her hands as she regarded him. She remembered Pansy telling her to wait. She remembered falling asleep with his book, thinking of him.
And she remembered telling him she needed him, missed him.
And she remembered him crying in her arms.
"Oh," she whispered. "Oh, my."
Wait, indeed. Had he come to her, then, for more than just a bit of a kick on the sofa?
He stood, tugging up his pants and fastening them in the same motion, his eyes averted from hers. She'd call her brothers. They would kill him. They'd fucking murder him for doing this to her. He'd really rather do that himself, he thought, looking around helplessly. He'd lost his wand somewhere. He'd need that to defend himself.
Fuck, when had she done this to him? When had she made him this whinging, trembling mess? She'd gotten under his skin like a fucking disease, was it any wonder he'd gone completely mad and practically forced her to have sex with him? Twice, no less, he'd practically forced her twice. "I have… I can't fucking stay here!"
He wished he actually were drunk, because intoxication, though Lucius Malfoy had claimed it a weakness, was an excuse, damn it, a totally valid excuse.
With no small amount of chagrin, he tugged his wand from between two couch cushions, thinking it damned lucky-or perhaps damned unlucky-he hadn't rolled over on it and hexed himself. He raked a hand through his hair, looking at her in the eye for the first time. "Damn it, I didn't mean for this to happen. Not like this." He'd had a plan, he'd had things to say to her, and bugger it all, she'd just… looked so fucking perfect.
She cringed at his words, hating herself for that weakness, but hating the thought that being together with him, tender words between them, was an accident.
She'd waited, damn it, and he had come to her. How else was she supposed to wait again?
"Draco, wait." She didn't realize she was throwing the advice back at him until the words were out of her mouth. "Slow down, I don't understand-"
"God, Ginny, I just took you while you were sleeping, you can't want me to stay here!" He'd just been desperate, needy, preoccupied with her and needing to be filled with her.
"You didn't know!" Ginny shouted, getting his attention. "Stop being such a martyr for two seconds and stand still!" He goggled at her then, one hand in mid-rake through his hair, blond strands poking in all different directions.
"I've been wanting you back here for two weeks. The least you owe me is an explanation.
"Why did you come back?"
She'd given him the opening, the opportunity he needed to tell her the things he'd planned to say, and he could only stare at her.
"I came because I was missing a bottle of whiskey," he said finally.
Ginny's brow furrowed, then she sighed, a frustrated laugh escaping her lips. "All right, maybe you were right," she said stiffly. "Maybe you need to go." She couldn't believe she thought this might work. Sex between them-definitely workable. But she wasn't settling, damn it, she would not do that.
She was wavering, he could see that. He stepped forward, grabbed her arms, thought better of the move, and stepped back, holding her only with his eyes. "You came into my study. You saw how I live."
"Decadence," Ginny said wistfully. Tens and dozens of everything. She'd never be able to understand that life, much less find a place in it.
"No," he said, laughing. "Were that it were so simple."
"Then what is it?" Ginny backed up, sat on the couch, felt it still warm from their time spent there. Not a dream, then. None of it.
She'd been so sad to think of waking without him.
Now, he thought. Now was the time to either let her in or close that door for good, a door he'd not be able to break down.
"I was taught early in life that the only things worth having were the things worth buying, but I learned the only things that truly hurt you were the things you couldn't buy, couldn't replace, and couldn't have more than one of."
Ginny steeled herself, made herself stay exactly where she was. She would not go to him. She needed to hear all of this, to know how it involved her.
"So when Lucius… when my father died, I told myself that was it. You cherish the things you can replace, the things you can have more than one of, and what difference will it ever make if one is missing?"
Ginny put a hand to her mouth, her eyes wide and growing wet. She'd never guessed the reason for his odd study, only figured him for a peculiar kind of spoiled. She ached for him, but stayed silent, knowing her pity was not welcome here.
"You hurt me, Ginevra. You hurt me, and you did nothing but… rub my fucking nose in it this morning as you spoke of me as though I were worthy of the words you spoke instead of too unworthy to stand where I'm standing now." He was breathing hard now, his voice ragged. "I know I'm a bastard, Ginny, a right prick, but damn it, you can't… you can't say those things and not mean it. You may have turned me all around, but I'm still a Malfoy. I won't allow myself to be manipulated."
"And I'm a Weasley. I won't allow myself to be wasted," Ginny said, looking up at him with tears in her eyes. "I'm not trying to manipulate you, Draco. I'm only trying to save myself."
"From what?" he shouted, exasperated with her and himself, with the unclearness of their actions and interactions.
Things were so much simpler when he was inside her, listening to her whisper his name. This? This was madness.
"You can't love me!" Ginny shouted, standing up. "You can shag me from sundown to sunup, Draco, and that doesn't mean shite about love! I've had a loveless relationship, and I'm too good for another!"
"Why can't I? Don't fucking tell me what I can and cannot do!" His face was turning a dangerous shade of purple, and he grabbed her again. "You've been trying to tell me from the very beginning of this who I am, what I do, what I do not do, and how is that any different from Potter, eh?" He gave her a little shake. "I'm certainly not schooled in what passes for love in the Weasley home, but I look at what I own and I know if there were ten of you, I'd want all ten. If there were a dozen, I'd want all of them, no matter how… stubborn and loud and stupid and freckly and Muggle-loving they all were. But there's only one, damn it, so I can't fucking replace you, and I can't very well let you go somewhere else, can I? Is that enough?"
It was Ginny's turn to goggle, and she did so even as he gave her another shake to put his point through. Her eyes were wide and shocked on his, and he continued to burn holes through her with that stare of his.
"Draco," she finally said, bringing her hands up to his arms and wincing as he relaxed his fingers. She'd have bruises tomorrow, she knew. "What do you want?"
"You," he said, looking at her as though she were thick.
"Do you want me to be happy?"
"Happy with me? Yes. Happy with someone else? Hell, no."
She considered it, felt something churn within her, ruthlessly tamped it down.
"Do you want me to be safe?"
He rolled his eyes-actually rolled his eyes. "If I wanted you to be safe, I wouldn't want you within a kilometer of me."
"Why not?" She arched into him as he laid his forehead to hers, her voice now a whisper. It felt so good to have him here.
Why had she ever told him to leave?
"Because," Draco said, kissing the spot above her top lip and letting his eyes drift shut. "I'm completely mad. Absolutely sick. If I were a healthy man, would I even be here?"
"You're positively mad," Ginny said, hoping against hope it wasn't a dream this time. She'd be awfully brassed off if it were.
~~~
"Draco?"
He was rather enjoying her bed, since he'd never seen it before and since he'd slept fuck-all in the last two weeks-he figured she owed him at least a good night's sleep after all the hell she'd put him through. "Mm?"
"I forgot something."
Her hand roamed up and down his chest and he shivered. "Mm?" he repeated.
"I still have lingerie to try on for you."
He grinned in the dark.
Sick, that one. Sick as they came.