CHAPTER NINE- Skiving Off
He was, quite simply, perplexed. If he were to flatly assess the situation, Draco would come to the conclusion that he was laying on a kitchen table. To be more precise, he was laying on top of Ginny Weasley, who was, in fact, laying on the table. And just to get all the details in order, he was buried to the hilt in her, and he could still feel every flex and squeeze of her muscles.
But he wasn't able to be so blasé about it, especially with those wide brown eyes on him, unblinking, unfazed.
All he could think was Curse… curse upon fucking curses, I've gone and done what Pansy said I would. And none too gently, either. Fuck. "Are you all right?"
Loaded question, she thought, finally blinking.
Physically, she felt fine. In fact, to be fair, she felt excellent in that manner. But emotionally? Well, she'd not been feeling emotionally well for quite some time.
"If I weren't, you'd know it," she said, raising a hand to brush her hair from her face. "You're not going to cry, are you, Malfoy?"
He blushed, which was nigh to amazing to her. "I didn't mean for this to happen," he said stiffly, trying to clamber off her and the table with as much grace as he could muster. At the moment, it wasn't much.
His movement sent another ripple through her, like fingers racing up her spine, and she tightened her legs around him for the barest moment, clinging to the sensation, a trapped moan sounding behind closed lips.
The movement-or perhaps it was the noise, the sheer, wanton sound of her-milked one last spasm from him, and he slid bonelessly off her, clutching the edge of the table to keep his knees about him.
Once he was there, he decided it was a mistake, as now he was afforded an unobstructed view straight up her skirt, at her ruined knickers and the swollen, shining lips of her sex surrounded by-no big surprise-ginger curls.
Ginny let her head drop back to the table. "Well," she said, quashing the hysterical giggle that wanted to tremble from her lips, "This was more or less what I expected."
Less?
Had she actually said less?
He tried not to be offended, but bared his teeth for a moment anyway, caught with that expression when she propped herself up on her elbows.
She started to smile, knowing exactly what the feral, defensive appearance was about, and then froze.
Was she honest to Merlin sitting here comfortably post-coitus, ready to smile at a Malfoy? A Malfoy whose intentions she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt, no less. And was he honestly looking up her skirt?
It was her turn to be embarrassed, and she straightened one leg, planting her chilled, painted toes just under his chin, tilting his head so he was forced to look at her. "Now that we're done using one another," she said, keeping her tone flat, "I think you can run along and rub Harry's nose in it."
He didn't know what he hated more: that she'd admitted to using him, or that she'd seen through him. But he kept his anger in check, having spent his day's worth of fire bursting in her door and getting her in the position she was in now.
Now was the time to keep his cool.
He ran one hand from the back of her knee all the way up to her ankle, plucking her foot away from his chin and holding it aloft. He nearly dropped her leg when he realized there, in that position, he could smell sex, pure and simple, the evidence of what had transpired in a few moments of anger and heat.
He really, really hated that Pansy had been right.
Not willing to give away his uncertainty, he kept his eyes on hers, ducking his head to close his teeth around her smallest toe. His laughter was genuine when she jerked her foot away from him, her mouth dropped in a horrified gape.
"Suddenly shy?" he asked. When she didn't reply, he turned his back on her and made his way through the room, buying time by straightening the chairs and vases they'd upended and uprooted.
Ginny drew her legs up, hugging her knees and rubbing her foot absently. He was just bloody insane, as far as she could tell, one minute some raging angry madman, and the next minute straightening her house like a bloody mother hen. And he'd put his mouth on her foot. "It isn't as though you've any need to pretend at this point," Ginny said, sliding off the table and immediately regretting it; her choices were either to clamp her legs together to keep her knickers from falling to the floor, or to pause and take them off.
Since his back was to her, she bent to slide them down her legs.
Of course, he turned 'round to look at her right then, looking over his shoulder with a smug, bemused smirk on his face.
She felt like throwing them at him, but the barmy bastard would likely keep them.
"It seems I owe you," he said, ignoring the hot twist of want that had punched through his gut watching her step out of the tangle of wet satin. He put his hand to her door, which was shut and magically locked despite the sunburst of splinters the lock had torn into the jamb. "You repaid my ruined shirt with dinner, so what's the price of a door and lingerie?"
"Free," Ginny said, sidestepping just enough to throw said lingerie into the waste bin. "Absolutely free."
"I pay my debts," he said quietly, taking a shard of wood and holding it between his fingers. That much was true. After his father had died, there had been plenty of debts there. Plenty of ways he'd needed to prove himself.
He was still repaying those.
"I think staying out of my life would be ample restitution," Ginny said, wondering where she could go in her own house that wouldn't be an inconvenience right now. She didn't want to look at him, but she didn't want him out of her sight, either.
"That's not restitution, that's a poor answer," he responded, turning and taking a step toward her. When she flinched but didn't move, he felt his stomach drop. "Was it really so distasteful?" He tried to sound flippant and was completely unable. Things had gotten entirely too out of control here, he admitted to himself. Entirely too out of control.
"I never pegged you as the type of man who would need to talk about his feelings after sex!" Ginny burst out, shoving her hands through her hair and finding a few sore spots where he'd tugged a bit too hard. "Can't you just… toddle on out my lovely, ruined door and back to your palace so I can get a bloody shower?!"
"I never pegged you as the sort of woman to completely avoid a question when it's directed at her," he said. "But I'll leave when I'm asked-" He saw her smirk and was all too aware of the irony of that particular statement, but he wasn't even going to try and justify it. "As long as you'll let me repay you in whatever way I see fit."
"More sex is not repayment," Ginny said incredulously, crossing her arms over her chest.
Though truthfully, it had been really good sex.
Not that she was at all surprised about that. Some men, you could just tell.
She decided she hated her mind for wandering.
Annoyed with her circumvention and his own stupidity for being there in the first place, Draco rolled his eyes, turned on his heel, and went to the door. He stood with his hand on the knob for just a moment, then turned and looked at her. "No, Weasley, more sex is simply an additional benefit."
He Disapparated from her front step before she could throw something at him.
~~~
She was, in no uncertain terms, a coward.
It would only raise more questions, she knew, but Ginny simply couldn't deal with the gossips, the snide remarks, the insinuations.
So she owled in sick to work.
She figured-at the very least, she hoped-people would figure out that Draco was hard at work at Malfoy, Ltd. and not playing hooky with her. She hoped.
She went back to bed directly after sending the owl off, her exhausted mind and her sore muscles needing the rest. She slept peacefully, if a bit dreamfully, until she was awakened by the weight of something dropping onto her chest.
The last thing Ginny Weasley wanted to start her Friday morning off with was a Howler.
She'd managed to get through all of her schooling without a single one, and now, here was one sitting no her chest. Knowing the possible repercussions that would come with procrastination, she opened the Howler and tensed.
"Ginevra Molly Weasley!" Her mum had spared nothing on this one, Ginny thought, automatically plugging her ears. "Get those freckled fingers out of those freckled ears right this instant." As though Molly were actually there, Ginny dutifully dropped her hands to her sides.
"Young lady, you had better not be… be skiving off with that… that Malfoy. So help me, Merlin, if I find out you are at his house or he is at yours, you are moving back here." The Howler took a deep breath. Ginny wasn't fool enough to think that signaled the end.
"It isn't enough for that delinquent to come popping through our Floo last night-and he had to have come from your flat, young lady-but for your father to tell me you're not at work?!?! You had better be sick, young lady, just falling… down… sick!"
Her voice softened a bit, and Ginny risked cracking one eye open cautiously. "If you are sick, love, please let me know. It's nothing Mum can't fix." With that, the Howler went up in a shower of ash.
Ginny let her head thump back on her pillow with a groan. She'd sort of forgotten she'd sent him to the Burrow. What had he said again? Her parents… Ron… Hermione… and Harry.
She wondered how many Howlers she was going to get before the day's end.
A Friday. That meant, Ginny thought gratefully, Harry would already be up and at practice. Away, that meant, from all the gossip.
She tried to remind herself it wasn't any of her concern any more. She'd made that blatantly clear the evening before.
With a sigh, Ginny climbed out of bed. There was no way she was going to get any more sleep now.
~~~
He'd been staring at the same piece of parchment for an hour.
It wasn't as though it really mattered; he called the shots, and so no one was about to discipline him. It just made him feel like a fool.
Draco looked at the clock on the wall again and winced. Pansy was known for strolling in right around nine o'clock-an hour after the rest of the staff, including Draco himself-and it was five after. He wondered if he'd locked his door on the way in.
He wondered if it was perhaps too late to fire her.
When he got through a half an hour-and finally, one document-without being interrupted by Pansy, Draco decided the coast was clear. Amplifying himself directly into the anteroom of his office, his assistant's area, he spoke precisely. "Octavia, if you wouldn't mind coming in here, I've some dictation."
She was prompt as always, if a bit less immaculate than usual. Her dark, tight curls were down around her shoulders rather than back in a bun, and though she never looked unfriendly, today she looked downright ecstatic.
Fridays, Draco thought. They made everyone nutty.
"I would like you to owl Miss Ginevra Weasley again. Contact her regarding availability for lunch or dinner, I've no preference." He drummed his fingers on the desk. "Owl her at the Ministry, please, as I've need for an answer as soon as possible."
Octavia nodded and flounced out of his office.
Draco thought he might start hiring all men.
It hadn't been a long night, or a short one. In fact, he was surprised at how well he'd actually slept, considering how much he felt like a prat after his decidedly coarse conquest of the evening. It had been, he thought, the perfect example of things going from bad to worse. Though he hadn't really felt indebted over the door and the knickers-mustn't think about those too much, mate, he reminded himself, a blot of ink dotting from the end of his quill-he had felt indebted over his manners.
There was a fine line, and he'd certainly been walking it. And for what? Jealousy? Lust? Power?
Or had it been simple confusion?
She had him all turned around, and he wasn't at all pleased with that.
Had the encounter happened with any of his past lovers, all pureblooded young ladies with high hopes and cold hearts, they'd have likely spilled it all over the wizarding world with a mixture of glee and offended sensibility.
He supposed he was lucky it had happened with Weasley, a pureblood with no regard for societal trappings. A hardy girl. An absolutely fantastic fu-
"Sir, your owl has returned with its parchment and a message from the Ministry that Miss Weasley is unavailable today." Octavia stood in the doorway, looking completely at ease with the black owl perched on her arm.
"Hello, 'Tavia, my love. I'm positively shocked to see you looking so energetic today." Draco watched in horror as Pansy swatted his secretary's arse.
His horror grew as Pansy leaned over and snogged his secretary. With tongue. Lots of it.
"For bloody fuck's sake," he burst out, standing and knocking his knees on the underside of his desk.
Pansy turned with a sly, satisfied grin on her face and sauntered to Draco's desk. "I'm sorry, darling, did you want one, too?"
His upper thighs throbbing from the force with which he'd knocked into the desk, Draco dropped like a rock back into his seat, his face flaming red. He couldn't look at Octavia, so he simply waved her away, staring at his desk.
"I ought to fucking fire you," he muttered, not certain which one he was talking to. "This is a bloody madhouse." Finally, he looked up at Pansy, who had one indigo-tipped finger resting at the corner of her mouth, the very fucking picture of concern. "It's like you've set out to make me positively raving mad. You have, haven't you?" He knew there had to be a reason for her behavior, knew he ought to be a good friend and take the time to discern that reason. He just couldn't think straight, however, if she was snogging his bloody secretary in his office.
Pansy picked a piece of fuzz from her black corset top and regarded Draco with a sigh. "I was rather hoping you'd find it titillating. You get so little action as it is."
He opened his mouth to protest, then shut it and narrowed his eyes. "What in heaven's name would you know about what action I get and don't get, Pansy? I mean, I do realize you're practically the gatekeeper of all things sexual in the greater United Kingdom, but surely a man can have sex without it involving you?"
Pansy considered. "Not in most cases, but I'll give you that small margin. Besides, if you've had sex, you show it all over. And you are, of course, showing it all over." She could practically smell it, the relaxation mixed with the jumpiness, the eagerly sent owl to the Ministry.
The fact that Miss Ginny Weasley had apparently owled off work for the day.
It was absolutely delicious.
"Wish I could have watched," she added, relishing the shocked look on his face.
"There was nothing to watch," he said, wondering why his voice sounded so stilted. Normally, he was an indiscernible liar.
She raised her eyebrow at him. "Oh, honey, what a shame, I didn't realize you had such troubles-" She burst into giggles when he actually growled at her. "Anyway, I heard the wild Miss Weasley isn't at work today, which gives my imagination plenty to work on."
She watched him surreptitiously, saw the tautness of his expression, the struggle he was clearly waging. She wondered if her darling boy had somehow gotten a conscience, or if he'd just been thoroughly whipped on his first trip out.
Pansy figured he needed a little of both. The poor git was still thinking too much like his father: the only things in life were power and money. "And speaking of not being at work, love, I had a long night." She looked pointedly toward the door to the anteroom. "And I was wondering if I could take the rest of the day off."
Ah, yes. A safe topic. One that didn't involve his sex life. He was almost relieved she was trying to walk all over him. It was a change from her trying to watch his intimate moments. And right now, he'd do anything to get rid of her, up to and including giving her the rest of the day off.
But not without a little argument.
"Why, Pansy, I'd love to give you the rest of the day off," he said heartily, standing and clapping her on the back, acutely aware the spot he'd lit upon should have had a bra strap beneath it. "In fact, since you've done nothing since you got here, I should have suggested that you take the rest of the day off!"
"I've the greatest boss in the world," she sing-songed, leaning down to press a surprisingly gentle kiss on his forehead. "Don't mess things up, all right, love?" she said quietly, and decided she'd let him determine whether she meant the office or his love life.
As for her, she'd quite decided it was time for a little bonding time with the only other person she knew was skiving off from work.