One Taste Is Not Enough by Br0ken.Dolly.x

Rating: PG13
Genres: Romance
Relationships: Draco & Ginny
Book: Draco & Ginny, Books 1 - 6
Published: 03/12/2006
Last Updated: 03/12/2006
Status: Completed

She understood Chocolate. And People. But why couldn’t she understand him? He understood his
fiancée. And his life. Then she came along. One thing they both know is that One Taste Is Not
Enough.




1. One Taste Is Not Enough
--------------------------

**One Taste Is Not Enough**

The little chocolatier with it’s rich purple walls, large glass display cases and bubbling
molten chocolate had only been there in the village for a week or two. The scrumptious scents
wafted through the always open, glass, door and many people had already grown fond of the young
woman who owned it; the woman who was always smiling, always willing to offer help or advice,
always confident and so self-assured that she seemed able to lift anyone’s spirits. Her passion was
startling.

Her appearance too was as noticeable as her shop full of jewel tones; her skin - ivory pale. Her
hair - blood red. And her clothes a jumble of shawls, pretty cardigans, neckerchiefs, polka dots
and knee-length vibrant skirts. Her eyes were large and as brown as the chocolate she crafted, her
hands long and slender, her slim fingers bejewelled with many precious gems, that simply could not
look gaudy on her, where as with others would look cheap and tacky.

It was said she’d travelled in America, learning the ways of the Native American tribes,
learning how they used the cocoa bean to heel, to endorse feelings and to harm; she was so open,
and at a contradiction, such an enigma, which many pondered over. Not widely known to the private
little world of the secluded village, she was also a witch; a twenty-six year old witch, who had
attended Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for five years before the War had broken out.
The War lasted two years, three months and six days, and after that Ginevra Weasley said her
goodbyes and began to travel the world, falling in love with tribal and ancient magics. For six
years she moved around France, Ireland and England; she would be drawn to certain places. . .
Generally the people there in dire need of her passion, all before this village had been lacking
the vim and vigour, however, this time it appeared she’d listened wrongly to the winds of
destiny.

No one was in need of her help here, fate had got it wrong, it seemed. . .still the wind had not
yet began to blow, so she would remain here until it did; after all it was quite a pleasant place
to reside. With it’s quaint little church and flurry of dated shops, the cute people, that all were
happy in their quiet homes, with pub quizzes and village galas. . .all had embraced her here, she
would be sorry to leave, but her heart was not at rest, her soul wasn’t quite happy yet.

Just then she heard footsteps pass her threshold; a new comer, the sounds told her, he’d - oh
yes, even from the back room she knew it was a man - never been there before, and that he was
definitely from the city, London probably. Putting down the pastry she’d been kneading she headed
into the front of the shop, her long crimson hair was falling out of it’s hurried bun. In the
centre of her shop stood a tall, slender man, his ice blonde hair long and tied back elegantly with
a thin black ribbon, he was wearing a long black cloak that had a serpent clasp upon it. His eyes
were like mercury and his face looked marble carved, all angular and beautiful.

“. . .Draco Malfoy?”

He started slightly, “Er, yeah.” he looked at the short redhead, all silks, patterns and curves,
her slender creamy calves the only bit of her that didn’t appear decorated, her cheeks were rosy
and her eyes sparkling; a strikingly beautiful woman who seemed alive with vibrancy. How did she
know him. . .he knew she wasn’t Muggle, he’d sensed it the minute he walked into the shop; the rest
of the village lacked the hum of magic, but this place was teeming with it. He walked towards the
glass counter, sanding opposite her.

“You won’t remember me, I don’t doubt; Ginevra Weasley -- *Ginny*”

“Oh! Bat Bogey Hex Girl. . .I mean, Ron’s sister, yeah?”

She laughed at his slip up -- she recalled in her fourth year when she’d cursed the boy, well,
at the time, it served him right. . .and since when was her brother Ron, to him?

“Yes, I suppose I am . . .” she chuckled, “been a long time since I met someone who knew the
Weasleys.” He nodded. He hadn’t seen her at all since the War, and only a couple of times during
it. . .he assumed she’d moved away, unable to cope with the aftermath.

“Anyway. . .what are you looking for?”

“Something for my fiancée.”

“Ah, okay. . .well, what’s her favourite?”

He looked nonplussed and simply shrugged. “I see; typical male. Tell me about her. . .I’ll find
her favourite.”

“Well, she’s quiet and kind,” her hands drifted over the chocolates wrapped in purples and
orange; far too garish for the future Lady Malfoy, “likes to read, a lot, she’s a very sweet girl,
under confident, but one of those. . . Genuinely naive and untouched people; the world has left no
cynical mark on her.”

Ginevra’s hands glided over the many chocolates listening to the description he reeled off for
her, she stopped at the section of the shop devoted to caramels. This was definitely the right
section. *Innocent. . .naive, yet nearly married to Malfoy, must be a bit special to make him
settle down. . .*

“Vanilla Caramels! -- now, how many?”

“Twenty?”

She smiled fondly at his lack of knowledge; they can’t have been long married. She peeled on a
pair of dark purple gloves and began to pick up the fat little squares, the tops of which were
dusted with light blue spirals, inside they contained a vanilla caramel, which encased thin slices
of pecan nuts.

“Done, Draco -- is that all you wish to buy?”

“Yes. . .thank you.” his demeanour had gone back to being cordial, detached and polite.

He paid for his fiancée’s chocolates and bid the redhead goodbye, it in his mind to grab Ronald
Weasley at some point in the Ministry and ask him if he’d seen his sister in a while; probably not,
he thought. . .she looked untouched by Weasley’s now; she revelled in pleasure, passion and
indulgence. . .something none of her kin did. With Weasley’s you knew them the moment you looked at
one, but her. . .she was surrounded by a confident, enigmatic field that fizzled with some sort of
deep magic that very few possessed, or if they did, very few allowed it free reign over them; most
suppressed it and ignored it’s existence.

“Wait!” something seemed to have made her yell out at him, he turned, his eyes questioning her
sudden yelp. Thinking quickly. *Malfoy. Dignified. Snotty. Snobby. Up himself?* “I bet I know
your favourite. . .”

A frown appeared in between his eyes but he shook it off as his eyes clashed with hers; they
were so very. . .alive, a look he hadn’t seen in any Witch’s eyes since the War. . .sure, most were
happy, but the twinkle in their eyes would forever be a jaded one. But not her.

She scrambled to liquor section of her shop and picked one up that was wrapped in green and
silver foils. “Here.”

He unwrapped the delicate package; in the centre of his hand lay a dome shaped confection
constructed of dark chocolate. He put it into his mouth whole and bit, in the centre was a grape,
dowsed in champagne; the chocolate tasted rich and bitter, but the fruit balanced the tart twang
and seemed to make it delicious. “It’s good. . .not my favourite though.”

And with those words he left the shop; Ginny never got it wrong. . .never. She knew people, she
knew chocolate . . .she supposed she hadn’t read him right, hadn’t looked at his aura, his pulse,
his signature close enough. . .but it didn’t matter; he was gone now, and for some reason her
spirits seemed heavier and the wind even more reluctant to change.

0x-

“Smile, Emily, that frown does look most unattractive.” Chirped Ginny as she placed a steaming
cup of spicy hot chocolate in front of the older, sad-looking, woman. The shop was fairly full of
people, a line sat on tall, red leather stools, in front of them a slice of cake, a pastry or hot
drink, all smelling and tasting equally delicious, some reading as they munched, others surveying
the world over the top of the tall glass cups, decked with whipped cream. A happy, contented buzz
swarmed around the shop; people chattering away in a spirited fashion, smiling as they picked their
favourite confectionary.

Ginny, wearing her emerald green skirt and burnt orange shirt, was guessing the favourite of a
new costumer - and getting it right, of course - when Draco Malfoy walked into the shop, his
fingers intertwined with another’s; his wife. Daphne Greengrass, jaw length light brown hair, rosy
cheeks, large blue eyes set in a cute face and five and a half months pregnant with the Malfoy
heir. She wore a long, pale green coat that was loose fitting though her bump was very obvious and
she appeared to be glowing from her pregnancy.

A few usual costumers silenced and stared at the newcomers, *who were they? Not new villagers,
there was nowhere up for sale. . .* Ginny, noticing the silence, stood on her tip toes and
looked over the many heads; Draco Malfoy was back, fiancée in tow. He led her toward a quieter end
of the serving counter. She gazed in awe around her, Draco really had found the cutest chocolatier
she thought she’d ever encountered and apparently it was owned by a very powerful witch, of course
he hadn’t said she was very powerful, but she could just sense it from the moment she’d entered and
when the striking redhead behind the glass counter had caught her gaze with those opulent brown
eyes. Ginevra finished serving the costumer, managing to sell the woman three small boxes of
chocolate and sending her off with a free sample of something that would not be her favourite but
something she’d enjoy all the same; as the woman left the shop Ginny knew she’d be back. . .well,
most people came back, but she, she was sure she’d return.

Seeing no one else yet needed her service she strode down to where Draco stood, his wife sitting
on a stool. She hadn’t expected to see the blonde haired man again, let alone only fourteen days
later.

“Back again, Draco?” she smiled brilliantly, “and you must be the lovely Daphne he was in here
for last time.” Daphne blushed under intense gaze Ginevra appeared to have; it was like she could
see everything that was not on the surface.

“That would be me.”

“I take it you’re here for more Vanilla Caramels, you’re in luck I just made a batch this
morning - how’s your back, by the way?” Daphne glared at her husband-to-be; she hated anyone
knowing about the discomfort she was going through while carrying this baby, she didn’t want people
fussing all over her everywhere she went. Daphne wanted people to continue her that pregnancy
looked good on her, that she was glowing and looked more radiant than ever. “Oh no, Doll, Draco
didn’t tell me.” she turned around and searched for the chocolates, once she‘d found the periwinkle
coloured tray which held the squat little squares she returned to the engaged couple both looking
slightly puzzled “I just have strong intuitions.” Gingerly the brunette nodded, while Draco’s grey
eyes twinkled with mirth; he’d never known someone quite like Ginevra Weasley, the girl was a
mystery.

“I’m Ginevra, by the by, or, y’know, just plain Ginny” she sent them both a dazzling smile,
leaving no doubt in either of their minds that this girl could never be *plain* anything. “So,
tell me, how’s the baby doing? Twenty-one weeks old?”

“Erm, five and a half months, approximately.” answered Draco, smiling down at his wife, a
cherishing look in his eyes.

“Umm, trust me, five months and one week, exactly. Now how many of these would you like?”

“Ten, please.” gasped out Daphne, how did this woman know so much, not even they knew the exact
amount of weeks the baby had been within her. Ginny plucked out thirteen cubes of chocolate, the
blue swirls on top of them looking elegant and enticing. Ten went into a silver box, tied with a
sapphire coloured ribbon and one was slipped in front of both Draco and Daphne, while she bit the
final one in half too.

“Thank you” The brunette ate hers in little nibbles savouring the creamy flavour while Draco
handed his to his fiancée.

“Not going to eat yours, Draco?” inquired Ginny and she place the just wrapped box into a small
brown paper bag.

“I don’t like them that much, too sickly.”

Ginny raised her eyebrows, then quirked her lips. She stared straight at him, forgetting the
shop, the costumers, Daphne and focused directly upon his eyes, he too experiencing a similar
feeling, an inability to even care about anything but the redheaded enigma. Daphne, after finishing
Draco’s chocolate, stared at the two, she could herself becoming quite annoyed at the connection
Ginny seemed to have hooked Draco on.

“I know your favourite” she said almost robotically. He’d been sweet and adoring with his wife;
he loved her, was in love with her, tolerated her. . .she handed him what looked like a small
chocolate cake case, inside it a light brown whip of something unidentifiable. “Chocolate
Mascarpone Cup.”

He bit into it; there was vanilla and a bitter tasting cream, the chocolate was mixed to
perfection and melted in his mouth. . .but “it’s not my favourite.”

Ginny bowed her head. “My mistake.” she half-smiled. Then turned her attentions to Daphne who
was seeming very irritated at being left out of the conversation for so very long, “Anything else
you require?”

“No, no thank you.” however she found she couldn’t take the icy, jealous, over protective of her
fiancé, tone wanted to with the redhead.

“Well, then I must serve James,” she indicated to a teenage boy who looked embarrassed that the
beautiful shop owner knew him by name, Draco handed over the Muggle money to pay for his fiancée’s
chocolates and then proceeded to help her off of the chair, “oh! But before you do leave - here you
go Daphne.”

She had handed her a tall bottle, the shape of an elongated pyramid. The glass was tinted pink,
but within you could see the liquid was the colour of rust; Chocolate Zabaglione; it smelt of
fermented fruit and rich, dark chocolate - ninety percent cocoa - it tasted bitter, leaving a dry
taste and texture within your mouth. “A spoonful each morning will help with your back.” she nodded
to the couple and was gone, before they could even say goodbye or offer money for the bottle of
solution, off to serve the twitchy fifteen year old boy.

Once again Draco ushered her out of the shop. The wind had now picked up outside.

“What a peculiar woman.” remarked Daphne as she examined the contents of the vial she’d been
handed.

“Yes. Definitely one of a kind.” Draco smiled down at the mother of his child and kissed her
sweetly upon the lips. “Let’s go home, Daphh.”

0x-

That evening Ginny stayed awake, well into the night, making fudge and various other chocolate
delicacies, she was a little tipsy, drinking strong black coffee mixed with a chocolate liquor. And
for some reason, when she tried to think of her purpose here and why she hadn’t yet shipped out,
all that she really could think about was Draco. Draco and Daphne; he really loved that woman so
very much. Draco and Chocolate; what was his favourite? Draco and Fatherhood; he’d be an excellent
Dad. Why couldn’t she pick his favourite? She’d seen right into him today and still, no favourite.
. .what was his favourite. . ?

0x-

Ten days later, it was a mid-December morning, and Ginny had just opened her shop, however she
still looked fresh of face and her eyes sparkled. Today she’d opted for a red silk dress with short
puffy sleeves, thick black tights, a pair of green soft leather shoes and a long black neck scarf,
she was setting out the newest product she’d concocted; the first new creation in a few months -
Malted Chocolate Chunks. Lumps of biscuits, cherries, raisins, marshmallows and sickly melted
chocolate gluing it all together. They were crunchy, munchable, fruity, chewy and slightly sickly
after a couple of slices. .. However, totally delicious and enjoyable; she was sure they’d go down
a treat with the kids; they were so loaded with sugar!

Her first costumer of the day was not, as she thought it would be, Marie Edwards arriving half
an hour early in order to collect the cake she’d ordered a week ago for her daughter’s twenty-first
birthday, apparently her daughter attended a university and barely had the time - or the urge,
Ginny mused - to visit her parents, in her old secluded village. But she was coming back to see her
parents for this special occasion and Mrs Edwards had said he daughter simply adored chocolate.
Ginny had some idea of what the girl was like from how Marie had described her and intended to send
along a few White Chocolate Truffles that encased Cocoa Beans. Her first costumer of the day was
Draco Malfoy. Alone.

He’d thought non-stop about the redhead and as soon as an occasion had arisen he’d grabbed it to
go visit her again. She was stunning. His heart began to beat a bit faster as he stepped in the
shop; the scent, the feel of the place, screamed her to him and it felt right being her, surrounded
by Ginevra Weasley.

“Back again, Draco?” she grinned from her position knelt down behind the counter, only the top
half of her face and her arms visible and she arranged the chocolate segments on the plate, in a
pyramid formation.

“Yes; it’s my Mother’s birthday and figured you could help me find a suitable type of chocolate
for her.”

The redhead smiled and stood after a few seconds, once her chocolate wedge structure was
complete. “Want to try one?” she gestured towards the plate, “they’re just developed by me and are
a free sample today, just to see how they go down; she if I should make them again, you know.” her
eyes glinted with mischief and passion. Striding across the room he took the top most segment and
slipped it in his mouth.

“Mmm, I like it. Sweet, biscuity; a sure fire success.”

“Hah, thank you. . .now, you’re Mother, you say?”

“Yes. She’s forty seven tomorrow and we’ve bought her a few things, well, Daphh has. . .bought I
know Mother has a secret penchant for sweet things, although she’ll only allow herself to eat one a
week; looking after the figure and all that.”

Ginny laughed - a raucous, a type of freedom from insecurity type of a sound - “Ah, one a week?
What about looking after the soul?” she popped a Chocolate Wedge in her mouth and chewed away
looking content that she neither needed to or wanted to worry about the effect that my have on her
appearance. She turned and began to probe her eyes amongst her shelves, Draco thinking, as she did
so, that there was certainly no need for this girl to worry about looks, she was lucky; slender yet
shapely legs and arms, he waist tiny and her hips and bosom, rounded and full. . .all natural he
supposed too, after all he could hardly see Ginevra Weasley counting calories.

“So, I know the exterior of your Mother, I know he pride and her beauty, her slight arrogance,
her timid and yet determined persona; tell me the real her.”

He took a seat on one of the tall stools and Ginny placed a glass of bitter coffee in front of
him, sweetened by chocolate and almond oil. She too had a drink, and leant against the counter as
he explain his Mother, that the exterior wasn’t a façade, it was who his Mother was, however, she
was also caring and protective and loyal to her family and friends.

“Mmm. . .I do believe, I have the perfect solution” she drained her cup and disappeared into the
back room - the baking room - for a few minutes before reappearing with a tray covered in small,
very dark chocolate shapes. They had a square base, the side of the chocolate leaning in as though
to make a triangle, however the top of the chocolate did not finishing in a point for a smooth oval
shape, a lime green curved line down the centre. “A pear flavoured ganache, made with terribly
intense cocoa,” she spoke the words in a hushed tone, lulled the utterance over her tongue as she
leant right over the counter, inches from his face, lifted a chocolate and bit, half of it in her
mouth, then pushed the second half into his mouth, her fingertips lingering there on his lips three
seconds longer than necessary.

“Yes. . Perfect.” he whispered as she slowly recoiled back to her place behind the glass.
Picking up both their empty cups she put them on the shelf behind her. “I’ll take twelve.”

Ginevra nodded a began wrapping them up in individual gold packaging, before slotting them
neatly into a green, metallic finish gift box and tying with a gold ribbon. This took about fifteen
minutes, Draco could still taste the chocolate, the flavour lingering in his mouth, reluctant to
leave his taste buds; he assumed this was another reason Ginny had picked this particular one, even
half of one lasted forever, the flavour lasting longer than any other sweet he believed he had
tasted; making even just *one* last at least an hour, he was sure.

“You see that plate over there?” the redhead gestured to a gold, glass, plate holding about
twenty white chocolates.

“Uh-huh.”

“Take one, I bet it’s your favourite.”

He grinned cheekily at her, and picked up on of the white chocolates, they were shaped like a
dome, all creamy coloured except for a wavy line of milk chocolate. He popped it whole into him
mouth and bit, Ginny watching, ceasing the packaging of the chocolates for a moment. It was sweet,
yet salty. The chocolate layer hadn’t been very thick, the centre was honeyed almond butter praline
and chunks of almonds themselves.

“Very, very good. . .don’t think it’s my favourite though.”

Annoyance flitted across her features. *Why couldn’t she read him?* He smirked. Was he
under her skin as much as she was he? He barely knew her but felt like he’d known her forever and
yet still wanted to know more; she was addictive.

“How much for my Mother’s chocolates?”

“Twenty-five pounds, please.”

He handed over the paper notes, plucked the brown paper bag from the counter, said goodbye and
left, not wanting to but requiring to as he had a meeting to attend. She hadn’t said goodbye back.
She didn’t like to say goodbye and for some reason, especially not to him. However before she could
brood much longer Marie Edwards entered, her nose red from the cold and her hair windswept.

0x-

“Here you are, Ellen,” came the bright and bold voice of Ginevra Weasley from her kitchen, she
walked through the door into her shop once again, stopping slightly as she saw Draco Malfoy had
seated himself at end of the counter, next to Bill Meyers - and old man who was reading his paper
and finishing up his weekly *pain chocolat. -* eating a Molasses cookie which was the feature
of her plate of complimentary tasters today, it had only been six days ago he’d been in here for
his Mother and for some reason his being there seemed to throw her off focus for a moment.

She handed Ellen, a widow of the village, a cellophane packet of milk chocolate squares that
were coated in granulated sugar, within them an apple and raspberry paste. Money was exchanged and
as Ellen left, Bill too eased himself off of the stool, tucked his paper under his arm, nodded at
Ginny and left his money upon the counter before following Ellen out; the two were friends of old
and she was sure Bill had something of an infatuation with the old widow.

“So, Draco, why are you here this time, hmm?” asked Ginny as approached him.

Once she’d settled herself on a stool the opposite side of the counter to him and Draco had
established that as she leant over, her head resting in her palms, he had a very good view of her
cleavage thanks to her deep purple dress, that seemed to shine a lighter shade in as she moved and
the silken fabric caught the light.

“Well. . .” he paused. He had no plausible reason to be here, other than the fact he was drawn
to her, a bludger to a Quidditch player, a moth to a flame. . .a Draco to a Ginny.

“Maybe something for you this time?” she smiled. “Did you like the cookies?”

“Tasty; not my favourite though!” he laughed. She joined in the joke at her own expense.

“I never expected them to be your favourite, my dear.”

“Though you have to say, everything you expect to be my favourite really hasn’t been.” She
blushed a little, a faint pink blotch on either cheek, hardly noticeable, even on her porcelain
cheeks.

She sighed, went to speak, stopped, then said it anyway, “you appear to be a challenge for me to
read.”

He nodded, “I am for most people.”

“I’m not most people, Draco.” she looked right into his eyes, “so you want anything?”

“A drink?”

She smiled. “That I’m sure I can get you - any preferences?”

He plucked up the drink’s menu and browsed for a minute or two, “Hmm, Chocolate Egg Nog, please,
Miss” he sassed at her.

“Certainly, *Sir*” she played along. Turning her back on him, she prepared his drink,
splashing in a little dark rum for extra kick.

“Thank you, kindly.” said the blonde, adopting a southern American twang, as she placed the
drink before him. Ginny then sat herself down once more, the shop was desolate apart from her and
Draco. “It’s good.”

“I know.” she smiled, she knew chocolate well, knew how to manipulate it and bring out it’s
best; of course it was good.

“Modest.”

“I’m gorgeous and intelligent too, in case you didn’t notice.” her brown eyes glittered with
humour and life.

“I did, as a matter of fact.”

“Really, now?”

“Really.”

“Did your Mother like her chocolates?”

“Loved them; best she’s ever tasted.”

“That’s because they were her favourite.”

He nodded, simply accepting her gift of knowing people.

“How’s Daphne? And the baby?”

It seemed like it should have been wrong, her mentioning Daphne and his unborn child, but it
wasn’t he was as comfortable with her as she appeared to be with him, so much so that even
discussion of the woman he was in love with while with the woman he thought, knew, he was falling
desperately for did not seem awkward. And she seemed truly interested, no bitterness in her voice
that he was with Daphne and not her. . .not that he knew for sure she felt the same as he, however,
he was pretty certain, she wasn’t a subtle woman, by any stretch of the imagination, but there was
this aura about her that you could never quite fathom out her motives. Never quite get a grasp of
the key that would unlock all of her riddles, all of her secrets.

“Baby’s fine. She’s good; her back’s much better thanks to that Zabaglione you gave her.”

“Good. I’d hoped it would work.”

“It was horrible seeing her in such distress, and she wouldn’t go to a Healer about it - didn’t
want anyone knowing she might not be perfect, that she might be suffering.”

“She sees as asking for help as being weak?”

“Yes; she believes I, as her soon-to-be-husband, should be the only one to be told and see her
imperfections. . .silly girl, I love her; back pains and all.”

Ginny smiled softly. “She’s a strong character really, just wants to conform, wants to, I’d
imagine, hold up your perfect and ridiculously high Malfoy standards as she is about to join your
family soon.”

“I suppose you’re right. . .”

Suddenly Ginny dipped down behind the counter, with the speed of a Firebolt, and reappeared a
smile on her face with a long rectangular piece of dark chocolate, encasing a piece of candied
orange peel. “Your favourite.” was all she said, then sat in wait for him to try it, to tell her
right or wrong. He put it between his lips and bit in half, the dark chocolate was very bitter and
the orange sweeter than sweet, he popped the other half of the sweet in his mouth too and smiled a
kind of half smile. His eye glinting mischievously.

With one long finger he beckoned her to lean right over the counter, telling her he had a secret
he wanted to share with her. Not wanting to spoil the mood and tell him don’t be so silly you don’t
have to whisper when the entire shop is empty, she did as he wished and moved until her face was
only a few centimetres from his. It was then he closed the remaining space and kissed her soundly
on the lips. It didn’t last long - a few seconds maybe? - but it was enough, more than enough. His
lips were cold and tasted bittersweet, her were warm and malleable. He placed a hand at the side of
her face and gently played with a loc of her hair. They broke apart, millimetres away from touching
now, and both terribly out of breath. . .it had seemed they had forgotten to breathe for the few
moments they were attached.

She felt his lips graze her ear, “still not my favourite.”

“What?”

“The chocolate; not my favourite.” she didn’t really register his parting words, only really was
disturbed from her dreamlike state when she felt his presence leave the shop and a woman an who was
tall and very thin, with a smile too big for her face entered with a small child of about eight,
who’d inherited her mother’s long ebony hair. Ginny knew they were there, knew they were looking
and trying the sample Cookies she had on display but it didn’t really register with her. She stood
there not knowing what she felt, something had stirred within her, the magic had stirred within
her, she felt out of balance. She was happy, elated, content. She was sad, mourning, raging. She
was feel utterly tragic then. The one person in the world she thoroughly couldn’t read was the one
she wanted to. The one who made her so exultant, made her so distressed.

She hated he was going home to his Wife. Fiancée. Whatever she was. Probably going to some high
society party, where they would tell Daphne she looked radiant and beautiful - and Ginny would have
to agree with them - and tell Draco “well done, you picked a good one in Daphne!”. There’d be no
mention of a woman with a shock of red hair, a passionate spirit and a chocolate shop in a rural
Muggle village in the middle of nowhere. She hated herself for this. Why let him get so under her
skin? Why had she gotten involved? Why couldn’t she pick his favourite? This man had thrown her so
out of synch, forced her to lose her compass and steer her ship into un-preordained territories. .
.

“Excuse me, Miss. . .”

0x-

It had been twenty minutes since Ginevra Weasley had shut up her shop for the night and she was
well on her way to making some delicious vanilla fudge when a tapping could be heard at the shop
door. Without caution, and without fear, she strode into the shop to see a tall man with blonde
hair and grey eyes waiting outside the glass, looking windswept and sufficiently cold; the wind was
performing some terrific acrobatics tonight. Her heart suddenly began hitting her ribs so hard she
was sure there’d be a permanent tattoo marring her skin. This man made her loose all sense of time
and place. No longer was she standing in her chocolate shop with her hair falling out of it’s
elegant knot at the back of her head, no longer was the wind blowing so powerfully that she could
hear branches groaning, threatening to fall from the tree trunks and cause damage to homes and
roads, she felt in a dimension entirely on their own. She didn’t really know this man yet had
already given him the power to destroy her with just a few words.

Opening the door, he practically fell into the shop, it, due to lack of light, was almost as
dark as it was outside, on this December evening, however there was a shaft of yellowish
illumination falling through from the window in the door which led to the kitchen. He could think
of nothing to say, he’d just needed to see it her, it had only been three day since he’d last been
here, last kissed her, last talked to her but for some inexplicable reason he’d been urged, by a
unknown source within him, to come to her. “We’re closed, you know.” she commented.

He laughed a deep throaty sound. “Sorry - I can leave if you like?”

“No, no. . .stay; I’m making fudge, but it won’t take too long, and when it’s done we could go
up to the flat. . .have some dinner? A drink?”

Draco felt himself grin, slightly foolishly he heard his inner voice reprimand him, “sounds
perfect.”

“Come through then.” she led him into the kitchen, the light in there bright and over powering
compared to the darkness they’d recently been in. It was a typical old countryside kitchen; a
scrubbed, well loved and used air to it. Terracotta tiles lined the floor and thick oak surfaces
upon which chocolates, biscuits and cakes sat waiting to go on sale tomorrow, he assumed. Spices
and herbs were what cluttered the many shelves, it smelt exotic, sweet, sickly, bitter and spicy
all at once, all compounded together to make a melody that sung to his senses; much like she who
was now stirring a light brown gelatinous substance in an iron pot.

“Pass me some Vanilla, please, Draco -- on the shelf to your far left.” He looked at the vast
wooden ledge and almost balked, how in the name of Salazar was he supposed to know which was
Vanilla in this array of condiments and flavourings. She giggled into her neckerchief, “it’s the
jar third from the right. . .that’s it; the pods.” she turned back to her fudge once she was
content he’d located the correct jar.

Picking out a few pieces of Vanilla he stalked towards her, predator to prey, wrapped his arms
under her arms and pulled himself flush up against her, craning his neck he lay his head on her
shoulder - no easy task with her being a good foot shorter than he. She silently demonstrated how
to break up the Vanilla and place it in the swirling mixture piece by piece, Draco took heed and
began adding little bits of the pods. “That’s enough now.” tapping the wooden spoon smartly with
her finger it began to stir itself, unaided by her hands.

She turned to face Draco. It was magnificent; it was the first time they’d properly felt each
other, seen each other, known each other without the glass counter in between them, sliding away
from the cooker and further down onto the scrubbed wooden worktop, Draco hoisted Ginny up onto the
sideboard and she instinctively wrapped her legs around his hips, pulling him towards her, her arms
seeming to go on autopilot slide up the front of his chest, fleecing off of him his long dark green
cloak, allowing it to pool around his feet on the floor, and they hooked themselves about his neck,
her hands fastening amongst his silvery blonde locks. She yanked his face towards hers and her lips
were set upon his hungrily. Her blood seemed to race and her head was spinning off into giddy
stratospheres she didn’t know she was able to reach. Draco too was feeling similar emotions, this
woman was so wonderful. Her tongue fought it’s way into his mouth and coaxed his out to play too,
her hands pulled at his hair and her nails scratch at his scalp and the back of his neck. They sped
up and slowed, increased the power, the meaning, magic coursed through their veins and then they
stopped. Ginny’s forehead resting on Draco’s lips.

In a fluid motion she had pulled herself vertical again and was leaning over towards where a few
trays of chocolates had been laid out, she picked a luminous pink one and slid it in between his
lips, his mouth closing on her fingers too, sucking hard on them before letting her ease them out.
“It’s your favourite.” she laughed. In the centre was an explosion of strawberry puree, surrounding
that a shell of dark chocolate, then enrobing that was creamy white chocolate and it was dusted in
icing sugar and pink strawberry flavoured powder.

“Now,” he kissed her hard on the lips, “you see, it’s good. . .but” *kiss,* “not”
*kiss* “my” *kiss* “favourite.”

“Shame.” she leant into kiss him once more, but suddenly jumped up, shoving him backwards, “my
Fudge!”

It appeared she’d caught it just in time before it bubbled and burnt and had to be thrown away.
Pouring it into a steel, greased pan, she smoothed the top over with a large flat spatula of sorts
and turned off the hob upon which it had been cooking. “Perfect.” she announced, licking off a blob
that had dripped onto her finger. Placing a protective spell over her confectionary she turned to
Draco, “ready to go eat? I think we’ll order Chinese - you’re paying!”

“Nice to know and what do you mean by *order Chinese*?”

“You know. . .take out?” he looked nonplussed at her words, “like a restaurant that delivers to
your home.”

“I see.”

She found herself laughing as he really did not seem to see at all. “Come on. . .upstairs!”

0x-

The flat was much like Ginevra Weasley; it was exotic, mysterious, beautiful and sexy. Decorated
everywhere with sumptuous colour and vibrancy, it would have been hard to tell where her clothes
were in these rooms, mused Draco, as much of the paint work and fabrics seemed to match her range
of vintage, unique clothing. He’d never known of a witch like her. Two plates covered in half
finished noodles and pieces of fortune cookies lay upon her darkly coloured wooden table. Wax
stained the surface of said table, as the candles had simply been allowed to burn right to the
bottom, melting the colouring waxes and letting them run all over the old wood. Candlelight
littered the apartment as did the glow of an open fire that was fading into orange embers.

Ginny and Draco sat upon the floor, besides the hearth, Ginny propped up against an armchair and
Draco leaning his back against the sofa. In both their hands was a glass of amber coloured whiskey,
the wine long ago finished off; they’d been talking for hours and the cuckoo clock on Ginny’s wall
told them it was now three AM. They’d spoken about everything; family, the past, the War, the
future, Daphne, the Baby, Ginny’s absence from the magical world, chocolate, beauty, sex, life. .
.

“How. . .how are you so powerful?”

“Because I’m free. I’m passionate and I don’t try and control my emotion or my power.”

“That’s dangerous letting it control you . . .”

“I never said it controlled me, Doll, fair enough emotion rules me, to an extent but my power
and I . . .we have an understanding - neither of us will try and manipulate the other, and it works
it really does. . .old ancient magics that we all have beneath he surface, I simply unlocked mine.”
she took a swig of her drink, the inebriated haze not permitting her to feel the burn she normal
did as it slid down her throat. The silence fell between them, the wind still creating frenzy
outside could be heard louder than ever, the embers of the fire cracked a little and the chink of
glasses on teeth or glass being put down was all that could be heard within the darkening flat.

It was unspoken. Unannounced. But it felt planned, as though both were so finely in tune with
one another. One moment they were talking, then silence and now they were kissing frantically, the
alcohol and chocolate being tasted on one another’s lips. Clothes were ripped off of bodies and
naked skin pricked with goosebumps. They were illuminated in a muted orange glow. Her skin was so
pale, blemish free like flawless porcelain, he too appeared carved from snow white marble; the pair
of them an alabaster statue, not really knowing where one began and they other finished, they just
seemed to mingle and unite. It was a beautiful sight, that no one but the remnants of a fading fire
saw.

The moved to their own beat, to a rhythm of deep magic, deeper than either of them had
experienced before. Ginny felt her power rising, felt her heart swell so much she was sure it would
burst - surely one person could not contain this much intensity, this much strength. She felt both
torn in two and renewed. Draco too was experiencing flying to heights he was sure not even a broom
could reach, his head felt taut with pressure as though under water too deep, in the air too high.
He was drowning and being saved, losing and winning. He felt her very presence within him. Felt her
power flow through him too, electrical shocks zoomed through his system, clashing and melding with
his own magic; it was tragically beautifully. Both loved and hated each other on some level of
their consciousness. Love stemming from a connection that had spun between them that just felt so
right and hate trickling from the fact they’d never be the same again. They were changed, marked
people. Someone who carries the sign of finding their soul mate but knowing that in this life it
was probably not meant to be.

Draco was not ready for Ginny, she was an older soul than he, even though he on Earth had a year
extra than his red haired counterpart. He wouldn’t be able to handle the experiences she could
expose him too. . .the magical ability and magnitude she had at her whim. Climax came and went and
neither spoke a word. No whispers of comfort or words of lament, as with everything they had, it
was all simply understood.

Ginny allowed sleep to take her away, but Draco lay awake, listening, thinking. He was thinking
of Daphne, of his unborn child; his wife to be was wonderful. He loved her, and was very much in
love with her. He still wanted to move the Earth for and had the urge to kill any man who made her
cry - the irony that if she found out about tonight, he realised on some level, that it would end
in suicide on his part. But what he had with Ginny was something so totally raw and animalistic he
couldn’t explain it. It was not lust. It was deep, deep, uncontrolled passion for one another. They
were joined at the soul, fused together, but they had met too early, in the next life or the life
after that they should have been together, when Draco’s soul had grown more, had loved and lost and
hurt more. . .when Ginny was ready to accept a permanent fixture in her life, instead of listening
to the wind and moving around as she pleased. He could hear her heart beat, feel the rise and fall
of her bare chest against his, the soft tickle of breath when she breathed against his neck, he was
lulled to sleep by the lullaby that was Ginny . . .and, he thought, how he’d ever managed to find
peace in his slumber before he’d acquired this song with which to soothe his eyes closed and how
had the unconscious washed over him before without this music to call it to him? He didn’t know. .
.he didn’t care, for now it was here and now was beautiful.

0x-

When Ginny awoke she did not open her eyes. She didn’t need to. She could feel she was lying on
her living room floor, her sheepskin rug draped over her naked body. She could smell the cold in
the air and the left over food. In her mouth she could taste stale whiskey and Draco. There was no
heat besides her, no breath but her own to disturb the silence and no footsteps in her flat; Draco
was not there anymore. He’d left. What had she expected? She knew. Knew he should not be hers yet.
Now he was Daphne’s, his Baby’s, his Mother’s . . .he did not belong to Ginevra Weasley. She lay
there, not wanting yet to peel open her eyelids and confirm to herself he was gone. She knew it.
She felt it. But knowing and *knowing* are two entirely different matters.

However, as she lay there, clearing her mind she felt something. Heard something. Knew
something. The wind had changed. . .she could sense the soft whispers of the ancients on the
breeze. They were calling to her, to her heart, her soul. . .it was time to move on, time to leave
it all behind. It no longer felt like home, no longer did she feel content to remain here. She
would pack up tonight and be gone and setting up shop in a new town the next morning. Tears leaked
from under her lashes and ran down the side of her head, into her hair, her ears also were wet with
salt water. . .she did not want to leave, but she did long for change. She wanted Draco so badly it
hurt her heart to think about even standing, in case she should shake off some sort of physical
memory of him being here with her all night.

But she had to, had to open the shop one last time and had one last chocolate to invent here.
Something special, sumptuous and oh so perfect; *his favourite.*

0x-

Two days since Draco had spent hours with Ginny, two days since he’d left her home in the
twilight hours and now two days later he was back, walking down the idyllic road towards her shop
ready to tell her he‘d leave Daphne and everything behind if she would take him as her own, however
he wasn’t, as usual, greeted with the scent of chocolate - maybe she was ill and not cooking today?
However as found himself in front of her window he saw there was nothing in the window. . .or the
shop for that matter, all the fat squares of chocolate had disappeared, the coconut covered treats,
melting chocolate, cake, biscuits, *her*. . .all of it was gone. Why? Where was she? In anger
he kicked hard at the wall of the butchers next door.

“Excuse me?”

His head shot up; an elderly woman, with flyaway grey hair and a portly stance had appeared, out
of one of the houses he presumed. She was holding a small brown paper bag.

“yes?”

“Are you Mr Draco Malfoy?”

He nodded. “Yeah, yes I am.”

She beamed. “Yes, Ginevra described you well, she said if you were to return - and she was
pretty sure that you would - I was to give you this.”

She handed to him the bag, it was very light.

“Thanks. . .thank you.” he muttered distractedly.

She nodded kindly and walked away into her home. Standing in the doorway of the now desolate
chocolate shop he open the paper bag in his clutch. A scrap of parchment and a small metallic pin
cardboard box was all it contained.

*Draco,*

*The wind changed, it was time for me to go.*

*All of me,*

*Ginevra x*

*PS. The chocolate is your favourite. I promise.*

Numb, he opened the box. Inside lay a white chocolate heart, peppered in an orange spice of some
sort. He, almost mechanically, put it to his lips and bit; white chocolate, so smooth, so pale;
Ginger; spicy, bright erotic orange; Cherries, deep red, sweet; Nougat; hard and a pale pink. It
was wonderful. An explosion of flavour a chaotic mesh of passion and something so truly sweet. It
was him and it was her. Draco and Ginny. It was them. It was that night. It was his favourite.

0x-

Three months since her husband had been unfaithful to her with his soul mate, Daphne Greengrass
went into labour. . .after twelve hours both Mother and Child died, leaving Draco Malfoy alone in
the world. Meanwhile a woman in her chocolatier, in the South of France, rested her hand upon her
ever swelling twelve week old bump, as she took time out from making confectionary that contained
cherries, nougat, ginger and white chocolate.

0x-

**Author’s Note:** Nice and long one shot, aye?

Thanks to Lorna I started writing this plot bunny out really.

As we sat at the Bus Station and I explained it to her, made me want to write it =]]

So.

Here it is.

It’s of course heavily inspired by the film/book *Chocolat,* more so the book because it
has this more bittersweet ending. However, well worth investing in both reading and watching
it.

Review please?

x