And You Love It

This was originally a fic for the DG Fic Exchange written for slytherinwench.

Thank you so much to Persephone33 for the wonderfully quick and fantastic beta given from her death bed!

Also, thank you to SparkNotes for their absolutely wonderful synopsis of Pygmalion by Bernard Shaw, as this fic is loosely based upon that play.
I do not own anything relatively Harry Potter related nor the play that this story was based upon. I do, however, own my own characterizations, the additional offshoots of the story line, and other various bits throughout the story.

The original prompt was as follows:

BRIEFLY describe what you'd like to receive:
The tone/mood of the fic: It can have its dark points, but I'd like a non-wrist slitting ending.
A Theme/element/line of dialogue/object you want in your fic: Pygmalion, My Fair Lady, etc. (Draco has to make her into a Lady for whatever purpose)
Canon or AU? Either
Rating of the the fic you want: Any, but I do adore NC-17
Deal Breakers (what don't you want?): Weak, sissy or crying Draco

~~~~

It was a beautiful day in Diagon Alley. The birds were chirping, the children were playing, and couples were out to enjoy one of the few beautiful spring days that England had to offer. Everything was new and green. The little grotto around the pond at the far end of the street had been reconstructed after the war, and children were making use of the playground that accompanied the benches, little stone walkways, and trees made for secret romancers to kiss in seclusion.

Ginny Weasley was sitting outside behind a booth advertising her brothers' business, Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. She glanced around at the playing children, their harried mothers, and the women carrying shopping bags and staring longingly into windows. She smiled to herself at the beauty of the day, and then grimaced at the garish yellow of the t-shirt she'd paired with her blue jeans. Muggle clothing suited this sort of thing best as her robes often ended up torn and irreparably dirty either from playing with children or doing a demonstration with one of the new products being advertised.

This area of Diagon Alley had become a sort of bazaar, much like an open air market. Normally, Ginny would have felt quite self-conscious attempting to sell products among the more affluent that frequented some of the shops, but the others were set up a respectable distance away from the `booth-that-occasionally-exploded.'

Ginny had become so consumed by her observations of the scene around her that she hadn't noticed the storm clouds quickly moving in. She wasn't alone; no one else seemed to notice either. Unfortunately, there were no warning drops, merely a sudden downpour that forced the occupants of Diagon Alley into whatever building they could to seek refuge.

Ginny started cramming all of the exposed products underneath the overhang of the booth before grabbing her bag and running as fast as she could into a quaint little chapel. Several people were already inside, and the children that were caught in the deluge were whimpering in response to the severity of the sudden storm.

Several minutes passed and the storm showed no signs of letting up. She reached in her bag for her wand to dry her drenched clothing, but, much to her chagrin, all that the bag contained was sample products from WWW.

Ginny's t-shirt stuck to her uncomfortably, her jeans were chafing, and the constant whining of children was slowly giving her a headache. “Buggering fuck. This is just my luck.”

She looked around the room trying to spot someone she knew: most people were in animated conversation. Ginny sighed and began to rub her temples as she sunk to the ground. She leaned against a wall, and her bag fell over to expose the contents.

“What are those?” a small child asked Ginny.

“Oh, those are products from my brothers' store. Want to give them a try?” Soon a small group of children were gathered around Ginny all contented in the fact that some were bright orange with purple polka dots and others were howling like monkeys.

Across the hall, two men were observing the scene from a darkened alcove. The darker haired, olive-skinned one spoke first. “Oy, Weasley finally grew a pair of tits, didn't she? Bloody good pair, too,” Blaise commented to his companion.

“They aren't bad. She's probably just trying to draw attention to herself leaving her clothes wet. Why doesn't she use her wand and dry them? Common and low-class as always.”

“You shouldn't say things like that, mate. She's got a ferocious temper and she'll beat you bloody over saying shite like that. I might add that, common or not, she's got a bloody fantastic pair of tits. She should walk around wet all the time.”

“Thank you for the imagery, Blaise. I'll have to use a Pensieve to get it out of my head.”

“All I'm saying is there could be a lot worse things to have running around in your head. I'd be willing to bet that she'd clean up well enough, if that's what it took.”

“What are you on about?”

“I'm just saying, if I had a bird--“

“Not another word about anyone's bird, Blaise.”

“I know it's a secret, but someone else is going to pick her up eventually if you don't stake your claim, mate.”

“I won't even dignify that with a response.”

“You should. I'm serious, mate. Contrary to your way of thinking, I see blokes noticing her regularly. Eventually, she's going to get tired of turning down dates in lieu of having a secret romance, even if her secret romancer is - oh, how did my illustrious sister Amelia put it? Oh, yes, even if her romancer is `sex on heels'.”

“Blaise, put a sock in it.”

“What language! I might be offended if I weren't trying to get you to pull your head out of your arse.”

“Look, we'll go public when we go public. As for now, I'm perfectly content with the way things are progress, as; I'm sure, is she.”

“Think what you like mate, but you can't keep a bird like that caged up forever. It's your choices that determine whether she'll fly to you or away forever.”

The pair stood in silence for a moment, but Blaise couldn't leave well-enough alone. “Mate, I've got a proposition.”

“You're propositioning me? You're a dirty boy, Blaise.”

“Not literally. A proposition concerning the fair Weasley.”

“No.”

“Come on, chap. It'll be good fun.”

“Fine, I'll bite, but only to get you to shut up about it.”

“Don't pout; it's not a good look for you.”

“Shut up and state your terms.”

“Given that I'm a terribly magnanimous individual, I'll be fair. You know I am a philanthropist at heart.”

“A philanthropist? Are you joking?”

“Oh, you have no idea of my philanthropic nature. Now shut it and let me think for a moment.”

“Get to the point. The rain is letting up.”

Blaise tapped his chin thoughtfully, “I'll bet that you couldn't get the luscious Ginny Weasley to pass for respectable on all accounts in time for the Christmas Ball at your estate.”

“No.”

“No? I bet I could make it worth your while.”

Silvery blonde eyebrows shot up to a pristine hairline. “Oh, really? What is it that you think you can offer me that is so attractive that I'll give up regular, hot sex with a ginger-haired vixen?”

“My Vanquish.”

Eyes the size of small saucers looked upon the olive-skinned boy. “You'd bet your Aston Martin? Are you mad?”

“Dead serious, mate.”

“You know I could buy one myself instead of winning it off of you?”

“Of course, but that would take all the fun out of it, yeah?”

Wheels began to turn in the fair-haired man's head. What Blaise said was true, indeed. A bit of sport never hurt anyone, right? The thought of winning the world-class automobile did prove alluring. Against his better judgment, he spoke, “You condemn yourself to failure with your generosity. I'll take that bet.”

“What if I win?” Blaise asked.

“You understand that isn't possible, but, for the sake of argument, I'll allow you to name your terms.”

Blaise's face took on an undignified smirk. “All right, when I win, I'll expect you to properly court my sister. You know the only respectable choices domestically are Daphne, Pansy or my sister. Then you have to go international. At least my sister isn't a simpering idiot or a foreigner.”

“Surely, you're joking.”

“Dead serious, mate. I'll also remind you that I expect you to do the work on Miss Weasley yourself. No hiring this job out. You have to be, for lack of a better term, hands on with the lady.”

Draco shivered at the thought of bedding Blaise's sister. She wasn't unpleasant to look at, and it was true that she had a quick mind. Plus, Draco knew from personal experience that the woman had talents elsewhere, but the allure of picking up the car off of Blaise proved to be too much. A smirk lit his features. “I'll take those odds considering you'll surely lose. Now, when I win, I'll expect that glorious piece of equipment delivered to my flat in London.”

A little voice spoke up in the mind of Blaise's companion. This was wrong. He knew it was wrong. Maybe he could get Blaise to call it off rather than lose face himself. How to go about doing it was going to be tricky. By the look on his friend's face, he'd wager that he was having second thoughts about losing his precious Aston Martin. It would take one final nail to seal the coffin.

“Well, then, that eliminates several problems I was having.”

“I'm so glad I could be of help, you wanker.”

“Well, I not only get to appear in public with the woman I've already put quite a bit of effort into, but I get to do it in my brand new car. I also get Amelia off my back, and, when I do marry Ginny, your mother will continue to harangue you about finding a suitable wife for yourself and husband for your sister. That, in turn, means you'll quit nattering to me about all of your conquests. I can see no drawbacks in this competition for myself.”

Blaise ground his teeth together. “Mmm.”

Truly hoping that the bet was, at this point, null and void, he said, “So, the bet is on?”

Blaise flashed a completely false smile and extended his hand, “Absolutely.”

Draco clapped his hands together dramatically even though his mind was trembling at the prospect of telling Ginny. “This should be interesting. Intrigue is something we always had a talent for.”

The rain stopped, the clouds parted, and the sun began to shine again. The crowd began to trickle back into the street. Mothers began gathering their children from Ginny's impromptu playgroup, and Ginny got up and brushed herself off.

“I've got to get going, mate. My mother and sister are over in the corner simpering because their robes might get wet in a puddle, but they still refuse to go home. I suppose I couldn't convince you to help me carry them about Diagon Alley?” Blaise questioned.

“Sounds like loads of fun, but I'll have to pass. I have other pressing engagements. Maybe another time.”

“Suit yourself. I'm sure my sister will be highly affronted that Draco Malfoy doesn't want to carry her fat arse around to the shops. I'll be sure to send your regards.” Blaise left with a smirk on his face and managed to get his sister and mother out of the chapel with minimal fuss.

Ginny was still busy picking up the remnants of packaging and exploded WWW products when Draco walked up behind her, grabbed her hips, and pulled her against him. Standing bolt upright Ginny felt his breath on her neck.

“Why didn't you dry your clothes?”

“I left my wand in my other bag back at the booth. I didn't feel like running out in the rain to get the bag or the wand.”

Draco's fingertips drug into the skin of Ginny's hips with more force. “Do you know how hard it was not to throttle Blaise for commenting on the state of your breasts? I almost skinned him.”

“Oh, really? Did poor ickle Drakie get all up in a huff?”

Draco growled low in his throat. “There is nothing poor or little about me or my parts. As for being up, I'd assume you could feel the evidence of my attraction to you.”

Ginny laughed and turned in Draco's arms. She wrapped her arms around his neck. “Oh, is that what that is? I thought it was your wand.”

Draco dipped his head low to kiss the tip of Ginny's nose and ground his hips into hers. “Draco, honestly, we're in a chapel. I may not be religious in the slightest, but there are certain things even I think are improper to do in a church.”

“Like what?” he said as he kissed his way down the side of her neck.

“Like you pawing me. Stop it!”

“We're going to end up making it official eventually at any rate. It isn't as if we can't right all the sins later, Gin.”

Ginny sighed and leveled her eyes at the blond-haired man. “Don't say things you don't mean, Malfoy. You know you're never going to take this public. If you ever intended to, you'd have done so already. As it stands now, you continue to worry about the fact that it wouldn't be any good for your image.”

“Who says I don't mean them? You know I can't wait to have little ginger-haired babies.”

“Draco, I had no idea you felt that way - about Ron,” Ginny deadpanned.

“Wench, you certainly know how to kill an erection.”

“I know how to bring one back, too.” She rubbed herself suggestively against Draco. He moaned low in this throat.

“Ginny—“

“Not now, Draco. We're in a chapel. We'll have dinner tonight, and I'll be the dessert.”

“You're evil.”

“And you love it.”

-->

This was originally a fic for the DG Fic Exchange written for slytherinwench.

Thank you so much to Persephone33 for the wonderfully quick and fantastic beta given from her death bed!

Also, thank you to SparkNotes for their absolutely wonderful synopsis of Pygmalion by Bernard Shaw, as this fic is loosely based upon that play.

I do not own anything relatively Harry Potter related nor the play that this story was based upon. I do, however, own my own characterizations, the additional offshoots of the story line, and other various bits throughout the story.

The original prompt was as follows:

BRIEFLY describe what you'd like to receive:
The tone/mood of the fic: It can have its dark points, but I'd like a non-wrist slitting ending.
A Theme/element/line of dialogue/object you want in your fic: Pygmalion, My Fair Lady, etc. (Draco has to make her into a Lady for whatever purpose)
Canon or AU? Either
Rating of the the fic you want: Any, but I do adore NC-17
Deal Breakers (what don't you want?): Weak, sissy or crying Draco

~~~

Draco stood in the palatial bathroom of his penthouse flat in London. He eyed his reflection thoughtfully, looking for the slightest imperfection. After finding none, he walked out into the kitchen, opened a bottle of wine, and awaited his lovely dinner companion.

He didn't have to wait long. A soft knock at the door signaled her arrival, and he walked to the door to let her in.

She was breathtaking. He had always heard about blokes going soft over how gorgeous a woman was, but he'd never believed it would happen to him. He'd never wanted it to happen to him, but it had.

“Hello,” she said breathily. She craned her neck upwards to brush her lips across his before she breezed through the doorway and into the foyer.

“Is there any wine?”

“Of course. I got your favourite.” Draco poured Ginny a glass of her favourite white wine. She took a sip and made a sound low in her throat.

“Mmm, that's good.”

“You look beautiful.” He hadn't meant to blurt it out like that. He did have a certain amount of finesse left in him - it just escaped him whenever she entered a room.

Her smile made him forget his inner monologue. “Thank you. Flattery will get you everywhere.”

He smiled softly and led her into the dining area where dinner would be served. They ate contentedly and spoke of inconsequential things. It was perfect, though they never told each other that.

“You always use the wrong fork. You know that, right?”

Ginny sighed and rubbed her temples. “Please, don't start, Draco. What does it matter if I use the wrong fork? It's just us here. You're the only one who knows what fork I use.”

“I was just pointing it out. I just thought perhaps you'd like to use the correct fork, and you'd never know you were using the wrong one if someone didn't point it out.”

“You've pointed it out many times before, Draco, and I obviously have no interest in using the appropriate fork. I like this one,” she held up her salad fork, “the tongs aren't so short that you can't eat properly and they aren't so long that you end up ramming it into teeth when you're eating. I just like this one, so, can I please eat in peace?”

“That's you're salad fork, for the record.”

“All right! Can I please eat my dinner in peace with my bleeding salad fork?”

“Of course, but there is no reason to yell.”

Ginny sighed again and searched for a topic to change the conversation with. “I saw you and Blaise talking today. What did dear-heart Blaise have to say?”

“We made a friendly wager.”

“Still trying to get that Aston Martin off him? I thought you lot had gotten past that. Why don't you just go buy one for yourself?”

“It takes all the sport out of it.”

“What is the bet this time? What are the terms?”

“It's none of your concern, darling.”

“And why not?”

“Because I said so, of course. Now, didn't you promise me dessert?”

“I'm not finished eating yet. I'd also like some more wine.”

“Are you sure you're not finished?”

“I'm sure.”

Draco got an evil smirk on his face which alarmed Ginny slightly. “Draco, whatever you're thinking, don't do it.” Ginny rose from the table and began backing away from Draco only to have him prowl after her.

“And what will you do to me if I go through with it?”

“I'm not sure. I'll have to think about it.”

Draco moved so fast that Ginny didn't have time to react. Draco hoisted Ginny up onto his shoulder.

“Draco, what are you doing?” Ginny thrashed around to the best of her ability, but to no avail.

“I'm ready for dessert, and I'm sure you are as well.”

“Who says?”

“I say. I'm sure I'll have to convince you, but I'm also sure that I'll succeed.”

“Hmph. Such a cocky prat.”

“Cocky is right, darling. I must say that dress looks smashing on, but it will look even better on the floor.”

“You're such a heathen.”

“And you love it.”

Draco walked through the doorway into his bedroom and deposited Ginny's feet on the floor. He took his time kissing her neck, letting his hands roam her body.

She moaned low in her throat. “See, I told you I could convince you,” Draco said smugly.

“Well, get on with it, then,” Ginny responded.

Draco ran his hands up the side of her face and kissed her deeply. Ginny's hands fluttered down his stomach and made quick work of his belt buckle. Pressing her palm to his most intimate part, Ginny began making shallow pumping motions much to Draco's pleasure.

“Wench.” Draco made a meal of Ginny's neck while he unzipped and divested her of her little black dress. The cold air made Ginny's nipples pucker in the most delightful way, and Draco quickly cupped them in his hands.

Ginny grabbed the waistband of Draco's pants and pulled them down to his ankles along with his boxers. Draco scrambled to pull her back to her feet, but Ginny made herself comfortable by kneeling on the floor.

Draco knew what was next. He gritted his teeth and closed his eyes in anticipation. She was too good at this. Draco's most impure thoughts came when he thought about all the evil, nasty things he'd like to do to the blokes that taught her to be this good. He waited, but still nothing came. He heard Ginny giggle.

“What are you laughing about?”

“Your face. It's priceless. It looks like you're about to be executed or something.”

“No, not executed, darling. I have to concentrate or everything will be over far earlier than either one of us want it to be. You're simply too talented for your own good.”

This statement seemed to cause Ginny a great amount of pride. Suddenly, the look on her face changed. “Oh, so am I to understand that you want me to put that,” she pointed to his penis, “in my mouth?”

“That's the general idea, love.”

“Oh, I don't know if I should. I'll probably do it wrong.”

“No, love, you could never do it wrong.”

“Are you sure?”

“I'm positive.”

“Well, all right, then.” Ginny suddenly sucked all of him into her mouth. Draco made a hissing sound and threw his head back. He could hear all the delicious sounds her actions were causing, and he began reciting ancient Quidditch statistics in his head to keep from coming on the spot.

He was enjoying all of her ministrations as much as one could in spite of the Quidditch stats when he felt a little tap on his hip bone. Draco looked down at Ginny, his penis half in and half out of her mouth. When he caught her eyes and she moaned, vibrating him in the most delicious ways.

“You are quite the little tart, aren't you?”

Ginny agreed and Draco moaned loudly at the vibrations going through him once again.

“That's enough - enough,” he pushed at her shoulders, “I'll come right now if you don't stop!”

Ginny let his cock fall out of her mouth as Draco pulled her upright. He kissed her thoroughly and pushed her knickers down her legs to the floor. He grabbed her behind her thighs and lifted, urging her to wrap her legs around his waist. She did, and they toppled down on the bed together.

They were kissing madly as if they would die without each other. Ginny was fully aware that he wouldn't stop his assault on her until she lost every ounce of control she had. Honestly, she had no choice in the matter. Even with all of his derisive comments about her leaving the house with no make-up or hair charms, or the constant harping about which fork she used, she still loved him as if her life depended upon it.

Ginny moaned and arched up into Draco when he slid two fingers inside of her. Each time he hit the sweet little spot inside of her, she let out the most alluring moan. That sound shot straight to Draco's groin. He didn't know how much more he could take, so he snaked down Ginny's body until he could latch on to her clit with a mixture of teeth, tongue and lips.

She arched off of the bed when her orgasm surged through her. Draco was sure she'd torn out at least one chunk of his hair, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He crawled back up her body and entrenched himself between her thighs. He slid himself into her heat and stayed perfectly still.

She loved it when he built up the anticipation like this. She looked up into his stormy eyes and kissed him passionately. She ran her fingers down his sides, and Draco took in a sharp breath.

“I love you, but you already knew that,” Draco said softly.

“I should, you tell me enough.” Ginny lifted her hips slightly.

Draco lowered himself onto his elbows and wrapped his arms around Ginny's frame. He was hard-pressed to admit it, but he liked sex more like this - slow, sensual, like they were bonding. Ginny told him it was the difference between making love and fucking, and he wasn't going to argue.

-->

This was originally a fic for the DG Fic Exchange written for slytherinwench.

Thank you so much to Persephone33 for the wonderfully quick and fantastic beta given from her death bed!

Also, thank you to SparkNotes for their absolutely wonderful synopsis of Pygmalion by Bernard Shaw, as this fic is loosely based upon that play.

I do not own anything relatively Harry Potter related nor the play that this story was based upon. I do, however, own my own characterizations, the additional offshoots of the story line, and other various bits throughout the story.

The original prompt was as follows:

BRIEFLY describe what you'd like to receive:
The tone/mood of the fic: It can have its dark points, but I'd like a non-wrist slitting ending.
A Theme/element/line of dialogue/object you want in your fic: Pygmalion, My Fair Lady, etc. (Draco has to make her into a Lady for whatever purpose)
Canon or AU? Either
Rating of the the fic you want: Any, but I do adore NC-17
Deal Breakers (what don't you want?): Weak, sissy or crying Draco

~~~

Later in the evening, they lay together in a sticky mass of sweaty sheets and clammy skin, breathing hard and placing errant kisses on forgotten places.

“I love this.”

“Me too.”

“Do you think we'll ever let everyone else know?”

“Gin, we've talked about this.”

“About what? I don't remember getting to voice my opinion. You've just stated the way of things and that was that. Draco, honestly, your mum loves me. Your best friend loves me. You love me. Who else matters?”

“Ah, that reminds me. Earlier today, your beautiful little mouth and Muggle clothing managed to draw Blaise's attention. He has this theory that you could be turned into a lady in time to attend the Christmas Ball at Malfoy Manor. Why he is so interested I couldn't begin to imagine.”

“What Christmas Ball?”

“It's the annual Christmas Ball at Malfoy Manor. Surely Mother told you about it.”

“No, she probably didn't have a chance to as of yet.”

The lay there in silence for a few moments, until Ginny spoke, “Were you going to tell me about it?” Her voice sounded small, almost childlike.

Draco was undecided. Should he lie and say he didn't know, or should he lie and say yes?

“Draco?”

Shit, he'd waited too long to reply. “Gin, to be honest, thoughts of the Christmas Ball hadn't even begun to cross my mind. It's still months off. Mother will start planning it shortly.”

“Well?”

“Well, what, Gin?”

“Are you going to ask me?”

“You'd have to learn to eat with the proper fork.”

“Bugger off, Malfoy.”

“What? You would. It's a sit down affair, Gin. You'd have to learn proper table manners. You'd also have to learn to control your mouth.”

“Oh, sod off! You think I can't control myself for one evening?”

“I'm sure you could if you really wanted to.”

Ginny pulled the sheet up with her as she sat up. In full defensive mode, she said, “I can play the part of a lady well enough. You just don't want to admit that you don't want to go public yet.”

Draco pulled at the sheet lightly, but Ginny wouldn't let it budge. He ran his hand up to play with her breast through the sheet. “Gin, if it means that much to you, I could help you, yeah?”

“And what if I said yes? What then? If I did agree, you'd just come up with another reason for me not to go. I wouldn't have the right clothes or something.”

“I'll buy you the right clothes. I'll even have a clothier come to the flat and fit you personally, if that's what you want. If you learn to eat with the proper fork and learn all the other social niceties, I promise we'll go public at the Christmas Ball.”

Ginny huffed indignantly and hung her head low. “Fine.”

Draco put a finger under her chin and lifted her head. He was surprised to see tears in her eyes.

“Gin--”

“You swear?”

“I swear.”

“What will you swear on? Surely not your mother? That is so overdone.”

“So, you'll do it?”

“I've already lost my pride, my dignity and any respect I ever had for myself. What more do I have to lose?”

Draco smiled and kissed her on the forehead. That was easier than I expected. It'll be a piece of cake from here on out.

The next months saw Ginny spending most evenings at Malfoy Manor. She had apparently not figured in loss of spare time into her side of the agreement. She practiced mealtime etiquette with Narcissa while Draco drilled all the pertinent facts into her head with the grace of an elephant. Clothiers came to the manor to fit her for new more constrictive robes, and she learned all the other ins and outs of being a member of high society.

Draco had become less and less accepting of her mistakes as time went on, and, on one particular evening, hostilities boiled over.

“Damnit, Ginny! Can't you remember even the simplest of things? It's a fucking salad fork. What is so difficult about that? I don't understand!”

Narcissa tried to placate her son. “Now, Draco, Ginny is doing wonderfully. You're both tired from all the dancing lessons. Don't let exhaustion cloud your judgment.”

“Mother, please, for once in your life shut your mouth when it is none of your concern.”

“Draco! She's only trying to help! She's done nothing but indulge us for the past few months. She's done nothing but be helpful,” Ginny screeched.

“Obviously, none of this is helping,” Draco replied dryly.

“Oh, fuck off, Malfoy. I'm tired of this. Maybe I like eating with my fucking salad fork, and maybe this isn't worth the trouble. You know, I should just feed you to Amelia.”

“Oh, you'd just love that, wouldn't you? Watching me parade around with Amelia Zabini would serve me right, would it?”

“Yes. I think so. I think it would serve you right. You're an arse. I hope you know that.” Ginny got up from the table and left the room.

Narcissa's eyes met her son's. “Draco, you really should go after her. Surely you don't think that Amelia is a better match for you than Ginny.”

Draco was seething. “Of course not, Mother. The fact of the matter is that she has to learn these social niceties. She hates it, but it must be done. It isn't something I've dictated to her, it's something my station dictates for her. I didn't think it would be this difficult, emotionally or physically. She's a bright girl, and, honestly, I'm only trying to help her.”

“I know, darling, but I'm not the one that has to understand.”

“You're right. I'll be back shortly, Mother.”

Draco took the steps to his suite two at a time. He paused at the door, grasped the handle, and prayed for patience from every deity he could recall under the circumstances. He turned the knob and entered the room. She wasn't in the room, so Draco entered the bathroom.

Ginny had her back to him. He could see the marks on her back left by the corset she had been wearing. She was brushing her long, red hair in front of the vanity mirror. A sad look adorned her face.

“You know it won't always be like this,” he said as he smoothed a hand over her shoulder.

“I know.”

“You know I'm just trying to do what is best for you - for us.”

“I know.”

The only sound was that of the brush moving through Ginny's hair. “The problem is that you're always taking the easy way out - looking for the easy fix.”

“The easy way out? How is this easy, Gin?”

“It's easy because it involves me making most of the sacrifices. It's me who is making all of the changes. I'm the one making the compromises. You're molding me to be what it is that fits within your world.”

“What? Surely you're joking? I don't make compromises? I'm taking the easy route? You've got to be joking.”

“No, I'm not joking, Draco. I'm the one that has to sacrifice what I am, no matter how low-class you deem me to be. You care too much about what other people think. You obviously have so little faith in my ability to take care of myself that you think I need to know how to use the proper fork in order to travel through high society unscathed. I don't care what those people have to say about me, so I really think it has more to do with you.”

“You would care. They are vicious. They look for any little thing to pick on, and they never let you forget it. Learning all of these societal, bullshit rules makes it so the people have little, if anything, to pick on, and, hopefully, they will drop the asinine bullshit and get to know you as I know you. You're a wonderful woman, Ginny.”

“Obviously, not too wonderful or I wouldn't have to go through all of this to assuage your insecurities.”

“My insecurities?”

“Yes, your insecurities,” Ginny parroted as she stood and swiveled around. She shed the remnants of her dress and put on Draco's bathrobe, “Do you honestly think I give a fuck what that heifer Pansy Parkinson says about which fork I use? What am I saying? Of course you know I don't give a shite about what she says. You know I really, truly don't care what they say or think about me, so this has to be totally about you.”

“It is not about me. It's about you.”

“How is it about me?”

“You've got to fit in. You've got to learn the proper set of rules.”

“Why do I have to do those things?”

“Because--”

“Because why?”

“Just because.”

“That's not a reason. I think you want me to learn those things so you won't be embarrassed. That's what I think!”

“That's not true! I love you!”

“The love you have for me has very little to do with it. I don't doubt that you love me, but I do doubt the depth of your feelings. We didn't intend for it to go this far initially, but it did.”

“I love you.”

“I know you do, but that isn't the point, Draco. The point is that you don't love me enough to love all of me - my faults and all. If you can't manage to do that, then I think we should split up before it gets even more complicated.”

Draco sputtered, “What? You think we should split up over something so trivial?”

“It isn't trivial. In case you haven't noticed, I've been spending all of my spare time with you learning everything from what fork to use, to how to respond to people, to which courses get served, to where to put my hand when ballroom dancing. I do all of that not because I enjoy it, but because I love you and I know it is important to you.”

“Okay.”

“You know what? You've got some thinking to do.” Ginny stalked out of the bathroom and began fighting her way back into her clothes.

“Gin, wait. Don't go.”

“Don't you touch me,” Ginny's voice was deadly.

“Gin, this is ridiculous.”

“Ridiculous? Draco, whether or not you love me just as I am is not ridiculous. I refuse to spend the rest of my life unhappy because I gave up pieces of myself to make you happy.”

“I'm not asking you to give up pieces of yourself—“

“Yes, you are. What about when we have our ginger-haired babies? What if my figure then isn't as lovely as you seem to think it is now? Will you find me less attractive? Will you go find some harlot who still has a perfect, firm bum and nice round breasts to warm your bed because my figure has gone to shit? This is the same sort of thing, Draco. You just need time to understand that. I want someone who can't live without me, faults and all. You've just got to decide if you are that person or not. I'll let you figure that out on your own.”

Draco was dumbstruck. He couldn't decide what this emotion was that he was feeling.

Ginny stared at him as if waiting for a response. When she didn't get one, she fastened her belt and grabbed her bag. She walked out the door without looking back.

Draco thought he might actually feel his heart breaking.

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