The Rules of Engagement

dragonsangel68

Rating: NC17
Genres: Romance, Humor
Relationships: Draco & Ginny
Book: Draco & Ginny, Books 1 - 7
Published: 25/09/2008
Last Updated: 27/10/2008
Status: completed

After accepting a foolish dare at a party Draco finds himself breaking the very rules he set for his own self preservation, and his life has been irreversibly turned upside down. He knows what he has to do to restore order to his once carefree life, but finding the strength is a challenge he appears not to be able to meet.

Chapters

1. The Dare

2. Exceptions

3. Uninvited Guests

4. Too Much Information

5. Way Too Much Information

6. A Question of Sanity

7. Epilogue

1. The Dare

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters you may recognize from the wonderful world of Harry Potter, they all belong to the revered JK Rowling; I just like to play with them a little.

THE RULES OF ENGAGEMENT

THE DARE

Draco glanced around with an air of boredom. These parties were all the same and were beginning to be dreaded, rather than enjoyed. It was always the same people who attended: those not invited to the more prestigious Ministry events. They had started out as an effort to thumb their noses at the Ministry and their foolish policy about not indulging those of a once questionable background, but the shine had long since worn off. Nowadays, they were just poor excuses to come together and drink far too much Firewhisky, so that one woke up the following morning with no memory of the evening before.

Dissatisfied with the whole situation, yet unwilling to do anything to remedy his mood, Draco downed another tumbler of Odgen's best and placed his empty glass on the table for refilling. After all, erasing the memory was what he had come for.

Blaise Zabini raised a questioning eyebrow at his friend. “Quite intent on wiping yourself out tonight, aren't you?”

“There's nothing else to do,” Draco snarled, his temper beginning to fray.

“Why don't you go find yourself something to occupy your mind before you become incapable?” Blaise suggested with a hint of a smirk.

Draco cast his eyes around the room disdainfully. “I've shagged every last one of them and not one of them enticed me to go back for seconds.”

“Maybe so, but it's far better than spending the evening conversing with your hand,” Blaise pointed out.

The blond wizard snorted derisively. “I think I'd rather use my hand than waste my time on any of those—“ His words dried up as a group of women entered the room. They were dressed for a ball, so he assumed they'd come from the Ministry Christmas Ball. “Well, well, well.”

“Perhaps your hand will have some company tonight,” Blaise whispered in his friend's ear.

Draco smirked wickedly. “Indeed.”

The two men sat back and admired the new women from afar as they began to mingle with the partygoers. Both liked to examine what was on offer first, and then make their move. There were some older women, who were instantly struck from contention merely on their age — the men did have some scruples — and there one or two unfortunate looking women, who might have looked acceptable had they had more to drink. In the end, there were only a couple of possibilities.

“I'm going after that one,” Blaise said, pointing to a young woman with long dark hair, who looked as though she'd only just finished Hogwarts the summer before.

“Too young,” Draco mumbled.

“Never too young.” Blaise grinned nefariously. “What about that one?”

Draco frowned and tried to follow where Blaise was pointing. “Which one?”

“Over there.” Blaise tossed his head in the general direction of a group of women. “Green frock, thin, long legs… red hair.”

“That is a Weasley,” Draco pointed out firmly. “Do you not remember that family?”

“Mmm…”

“Dirt poor, freckles everywhere—“

“Well, we don't know if they have freckles everywhere.”

Draco pulled a face at his friend. Even though he enjoyed the sport of bedding women, there were boundaries that even he wouldn't cross. “We don't want to know.”

“I dare you to find out,” Blaise challenged mischievously.

“Did you not hear me?” Draco growled. “I don't want to know.”

Blaise shrugged nonchalantly. “I do, and I'm daring you to find out for me.”

“You're not—“ Draco stopped when he noted that his friend's expression was indeed serious, even if his eyes held a hint of mischief. “Fuck,” he hissed.

“That's the idea.”

“I have my standards, Zabini.”

“Let's have a look at the check list then, shall we?” Blaise made a show of holding on of his hand in front of him with the palm facing up and positioning his other hand over it with this index finger hovering just above his palm like a quill. “Attractive.”

“If you fancy red hair and freckles,” Draco muttered as Blaise's finger made an invisible tick on his hand.

“Shaggable.” Blaise added another tick to his palm, ignoring Draco's protest. “Is there anything else you need?”

“She's a Weasley!”

Blaise shrugged. “So close your eyes and call her `Sweetheart'.”

“She'll never go for it,” Draco pointed out, thinking he would be able to get out of the dare on that premise, considering everything else had failed.

“Take a look at her.”

Draco looked at her just in time to see her stagger backwards a little.

“She's already half done. Another few drinks and she'll be anyone's.”

“Not all women are like that.”

“I'll bet she is.”

“What makes you say that?”

“I know you remember her from Hogwarts. Do you recall her reputation?”

“As a cock-tease?”

“If she was that hot to trot at school, there's no way she's still pure.”

“She could be,” Draco answered, knowing very well it was a weak argument. Every male student at Hogwarts knew that Ginevra Weasley was a sure thing for a good snog in their years at the educational institute.

“Are you taking the dare or not?”

“What choice do I have?”

“You could opt out.”

“I remember the alternative too well,” Draco replied acerbically. It was a childish game they'd played since before he could remember, and he'd only once refused a dare, because the alternative — a more than healthy dose of Veritaserum, so he wouldn't be able to lie — was too revealing.

“In that case, why don't I go and start to soften her up a bit,” Blaise suggested nefariously, pouring a fresh tumbler of Firewhisky and topping his own off.

“I have rules about shagging someone who's comatose,” Draco reminded him.

“Don't worry, mate, I'll make sure she can still scream your name.” Blaise winked at the blond before striding across the room.

Draco sat back and watched his alleged friend ply the redhead with well-aged Firewhisky. He saw her face flicker with recognition, and then a rather false smile stretched her lips. Quite obviously, she remembered Blaise. Just as he thought he might actually get out of the dare due to her refusal to `play' the game, she giggled lightly, and the speciousness of her expression morphed into one of genuine delight. Profanities were filtering through his mind, but remained unvoiced for the time being. When Blaise slipped his arm around her, and began to lead her in his direction, Draco knew the game was afoot.

“You remember my friend, Draco, don't you?” Blaise said by way of introduction.

“How could I forget him,” she answered.

Draco eyed her with interest as he sipped his Firewhisky. Her voice, while she wasn't quite slurring, sounded thick and unnatural. That aside, she had grown into quite an attractive woman, not that it enticed him to want to shag her at all, because she was still a Weasley. “Weasley,” he drawled, allowing a hint of a playful smirk to grace his lips.

“Malfoy,” she responded as she wobbled on her legs.

“I think you ought to sit down before you fall down,” Blaise suggested, guiding Ginny to the couch beside Draco.

She immediately began to move away from the blond, but her progress was halted when Blaise dropped into the vacant position beside her, effectively trapping her between them.

Draco had to smother a snort of laughter as her expression tried to harden in Blaise's direction. She was far too inebriated for the look, which was probably deadly when she was sober, to hold any malice. “Don't worry, Weasley, you're safe with us,” he assured her.

“I think I should find my friends,” she said quickly, trying to extract herself from the sofa.

“Why don't we just sit here and see if we can spot any of them,” Blaise suggested. “You know, I don't think I can see anyone you arrived with.”

“Who are they anyway?” Draco asked feigning interest for the sake of conversation.

“Work colleagues,” Ginny muttered as she scanned the crowd. “They're gone.”

“Not to worry,” Blaise said cheerily. “You can still have fun with us.”

Ginny shook her head emphatically. “No, I should go.”

“Nonsense, there's no reason for you to leave,” Blaise countered. “Draco and I have been looking for some intelligent conversation all evening.”

Draco watched as she appeared to be waging some form of internal battle. He hoped, with everything he had, that she would decide to leave, so the dare would become void. As gentlemen, neither would stop her if she absolutely insisted on leaving. There was no fun in forcing a woman to do what she didn't want to do and, as such, they never did, or at least Draco never did, he wasn't entirely sure about Blaise, because he could be quite depraved at times. Her facial expressions were fascinating, and he could almost tell what side of the debate she was thinking about through them.

“You can't go yet!” Blaise insisted just after he topped off her glass. “You haven't finished your drink.”

“Oh—I really shouldn't—“

“Rubbish! It's a party. Drink up,” Blaise encouraged, taking a healthy mouthful of his own drink.

It really only took a few more minutes of encouragement before she appeared to settle in for the evening. At that point Draco had no choice but to join in the nonsensical conversation, so he could make a connection with the woman, before luring her into his bed. By the time Blaise gave him a sly wink as he slipped away from them to chase his own quarry, Draco had draped his arm over the chair above her shoulders, not that she'd noticed, and she was enraptured with him or so it seemed. He had a firm plan in place to prove he'd successfully completed the dare as well, because if Blaise didn't believe him there would be hell to pay.

“Those Ministry Balls are getting more and more boring,” Ginny told him. “It's the same old fuddy duddies every time.”

“Appalling,” Draco answered.

“It would be—” She paused to take a large mouthful of Firewhisky. “—so much better if you lot could come.”

“The Ministry doesn't like us,” Draco conceded, smirking as her voice started to slur.

“They're all bonkers!”

“I agree,” Draco whispered as he reached out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear, making certain to brush her cheek ever so gently with his fingertips. It was a measured move that had always proven successful in the past.

“You have the most amazing eyes,” Ginny whispered, before looking utterly shocked with herself.

“So do you,” Draco returned in a husky voice. “They're so warm.”

A blush crept up her face and she cast her eyes to her lap. “Thank you.”

Draco smirked, before gently placing a finger under her chin and raising her head so he could look into her eyes. “You're welcome,” he whispered a mere fraction of a second before his lips brushed hers.

When she didn't push him away, he brought his other arm around her, pulling her against his chest and engaging her lips once again, but this time in a more determined manner. He smirked against her mouth when she responded immediately, and then set about seeking permission to deepen the kiss. There was to be no disappointment this evening as she allowed his tongue to dance with hers and even moaned into his mouth when he stroked her tongue with his. In the next half an hour words had become an ancient form of communication for the pair as they tasted and tempted each other. Draco could feel himself getting worked up, but squashed the feelings, harshly reminding himself that he had a plan and that it most definitely didn't include losing control.

“I think we should find somewhere a little more private,” Draco whispered in her ear as her hands started to tug at his shirt.

“Where?”

“Just hang on,” he instructed softly. Thankful that he'd at least watched the amount of alcohol he was consuming from the moment the dare had been laid, Draco confidently Side-Along Disapparated with the now wanton witch.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

He groaned and rolled over, draping an arm over the other body in his bed. She was sound asleep and he planned to join her in just a few seconds. Draco didn't think he'd ever felt so satisfied or exhausted, and it was all due to someone he'd never ordinarily consider touching. Who knew she could be so wicked in bed?

Of course, the fact that he had never meant to shag her was irrelevant now, but still the fact remained — he had not meant for things to go as far as they did. He'd had a plan to save himself touching the Weasley any more than necessary, but it had gone astray the moment he discovered she wasn't wearing the knickers he'd planned to steal to prove his virility to Blaise. Just the sight of her lying on his bed, completely naked, sent a large surge of alcohol fueled blood directly to his groin, and he'd had his wicked way with her for several hours.

Sleep now… Shag her again when I've got more energy, he ruminated as his conscious thoughts faded to fuzzy fragments and sleep began to claim him in earnest.

Several things raced through Draco's startled mind as he was torn from a deep slumber by a piercing scream and a blast of freezing cold air as the bedcovers were ripped from his body. The first was someone was being murdered; the second was that it might have been he who was getting murdered. Through bleary eyes and the hangover hell, Draco tried to figure out what was going on.

Weasley was standing beside the bed shrieking like a banshee with the blankets and sheets clutched to her like some form of security blanket.

“Come back to bed, woman, and for Merlin's sake shut up,” Draco moaned as he reached for the distraught witch, intent on gathering her back to him and stealing some body heat.

It was precisely at that moment that Draco realized he'd made a tactical error. Her shrieking increased to the point where he thought it was quite possible that his ears might start bleeding. With his patience running low, and his head ready to split, Draco clambered from the bed to stand in front of her.

“Weasley, calm down,” he pleaded.

Draco jumped back as she flung her hand at his groin, but then realized she was merely trying to block her view of the area. It seemed his naked form was a great deal of her problem, or at least he hoped it might be as he scrambled around trying to find where she'd flung his boxers. After a few minutes he located his underwear, and then took several attempts at getting them on, almost falling over a number of times.

The moment his manhood was covered her caterwauling calmed back down to head-splitting shrieking, which was far better than the ear-bleeding punishment she had been dealing him. With caution uppermost in his mind, Draco approached her slowly, muttering calming words and hoping she wouldn't strike out at him. He felt like simply shoving her out the door and climbing back into his bed with the pillow secured around his head to block out the noise, but when a woman woke up screaming like she was a move like that could be potentially problematic. There was only one option open to him at this point: calm her down.

He didn't know if it was his words or if she was simply running out of breath — the latter seemed more likely, because he doubted she was registering his voice — but she began to lower her volume gradually. Draco relaxed when she stopped to heave a few deep breaths into her lungs. At least they would be able to talk reasonably now.

“How could you?”

Draco's eyes snapped up, but before he began to splutter indignantly his brain engaged its self-preservation mode. “You weren't complaining last night,” he drawled. “That is if you don't count: faster, harder or fuck me now.”

“I—you—you sodding prick.”

“Now come on, love, that wasn't what you were calling me last night,” Draco crooned, rather enjoying the way the color rose from her chest and flooded her face. “You enjoyed it, Weasley,” he teased with a wicked smirk.

“I was drunk.”

“That doesn't change the fact that you enjoyed every last minute of it, every single time.” Draco reached to stroke her cheek with his fingers, but she slapped his hand away. “You even told me I had an amazing cock.”

Her embarrassment slid from her features in a second and her eyes grew wide. “You can't tell anyone about this.”

“Why not?” Draco asked with a sneer, keeping up with her change of mood easily. If there was one thing he detested, it was being told what he could and could not do.

“Malfoy, think about it logically for a minute,” Ginny pleaded. “Our families would kill us.”

“That doesn't scare me,” Draco scoffed.

Ginny quirked an eyebrow at him and her eyes danced with mischief. “I have six older, big brothers who would take pleasure in making your death as long and painful as they could, and believe me, they're very creative.”

“Yes, well— perhaps a vow of silence would be a good idea to protect both of us,” Draco agreed. There was no way he wanted to come into contact with any of her brothers, especially if they knew what he'd been up to with their baby sister.

“Good,” she snapped. “If you say anything to anyone, I will hunt you down and hurt you.”

Draco opened his mouth to respond haughtily, but his reply loitered on his tongue as she scooped up her belongings and all but ran from his room. After the door had slammed shut Draco ran a hand through his hair and let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. He looked around the room and realized that apart from the bedclothes that were missing it was as if she'd never been here, and then he cursed loudly. Blaise would never believe he'd been successful without some form of trophy, and she'd taken off with all her clothes. Somehow, he just didn't think that his friend would believe that Miss Innocent Weasley forewent underwear.

With little else to do, and still in desperate need of sleep, Draco dropped back onto the bed. He immediately noticed that the bottom sheet and pillow she'd slept on smelled like her. If he could get Blaise over here soon enough he could prove his success, but he'd worry about that after he'd caught up on some much needed sleep.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

AUTHOR'S NOTE

Written for ericahpfa for the dgficexchange. Tied for Funniest Fic Overall!

Thanks to Rainpuddle13 for her wonderful beta skills!

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2. Exceptions

Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the characters you may recognize from the wonderful world of Harry Potter, they all belong to the revered JK Rowling; I just like to play with them a little.

THE RULES OF ENGAGEMENT

EXCEPTIONS

Draco stomped up the stairs in Flourish and Blotts. He detested the second level of the bookstore, because it was filthy. If he wasn’t so weak, he wouldn’t be here, but he never could say ‘no’ to his mother and she knew exactly how to get him to bend to her wishes. It wasn’t that she was averse to shopping for herself, it was just that she detested the store for its filth as well, so he was often sent to pick up the tomes she wanted. To expose her delicate self to the dust alone would have sent her into hysterics and straight off to her women’s retreat for beauty therapy.

He rounded the corner and entered the last aisle, where the shop assistant assured him he would find the book he’d requested. His feet suddenly stopped as his brain moved into overdrive. The woman who had plagued his dreams for the past two weeks was right there, reaching for a book on the uppermost shelf. She wasn’t exactly in the position he had pictured her in countless times — riding him or writhing beneath him — but she was there and she hadn’t yet noticed him. Of course, the idea that he should just back away carefully occurred to him, especially after the way she left his flat the one and only time he got close to her, but the thought was interrupted with another: did she have knickers on today?

A swarm of Snitches took flight in his stomach as she slowly turned in his direction. There was no way he could anticipate how she’d react, nor was there any chance he was going to walk away, not after he’d done nothing but think about that night since she left.

The moment they locked eyes he knew she’d been thinking about him as well. Her posture was stiff and obviously uncomfortable, but there was something in her eyes that conveyed her desire clearly. Without a word Draco closed the distance, backing her up against the dusty shelves. She didn’t push him away or even tell him to leave her alone.

Their lips met in a heated exchange. There was nothing gentle or endearing in the union. In fact, it was more akin to two starving beasts feeding from one another. He could feel her nails digging into his back through his cloak and robes. It was as if she was afraid to let him go, lest he vanish. The heat between them was sizzling and Draco couldn’t help but react. His hands ran beneath her cloak, mapping the curves he’d spent so much time trying to remember. With just a little encouragement, one of her legs came up to wrap around him. This new position allowed him easy access to her upper thigh and to a place that he knew she appreciated attention. His fingers had just begun the journey up the milky flesh when approaching footsteps invaded his senses.

“Ginny? Are you up here?”

She instantly shoved him away from her. One look at her expression and he could see the panic beginning to flood her veins like some sort of toxic poison.

“Who is it?” Draco hissed.

“Hermione,” she replied. “I— I should go… I shouldn’t have— If she sees you…”

There was nothing he could do as she hurriedly straightened her robes and rushed from the aisle. Not considering who might hear him, or the consequences if someone did hear him, Draco cursed aloud and threw his fist into the nearest bookcase.

He heard Granger question Weasley about who had made the noise, and her reply that there was some old bastard in the last aisle who had been talking to himself and cursing like that the entire time she was up there.

Too irritated to be grateful to Weasley for covering for him, Draco snarled with frustration. He waited until all had fallen silent on the upper level of the store, and then he pulled his cloak tightly around himself before slipping down the staircase. His eyes, quite naturally, scanned the store for any sign of the redhead, who was responsible for working him into the state he was now in. Just as he reached the ground floor, he noticed her examining a book just a few stacks from the entrance to the store. Her eyes flicked over him, and then she quite deliberately turned away, leaving him with a view of her back. Disgruntled, Draco snarled in the back of his throat and slammed the shop door on his way out.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

There were four types of women in Draco’s life:

The first, and most important, was his mother, who commanded the utmost respect from him. Narcissa Malfoy was the only woman capable of getting Draco to do anything. He simply couldn’t refuse her.

The second group were his female friends without benefits. These women were mostly childhood friends and, while a great many of them were very attractive, to think about them in a sexual manner made his stomach roll uncomfortably. He did socialize with them at parties and balls, but he’s never considered taking one of them home for breakfast.

The third group consisted of his female friends with benefits. These were the women he could take to dinner and expect to have a semi-intelligent conversation with before jumping into bed with them. They all knew what he was like and expected nothing in the way of commitment from him. It was an unspoken arrangement that worked well for everyone involved, because these women weren’t the settling down kind anyway.

The fourth group was where his casual encounters landed. They never warranted an invitation to dinner and were only offered breakfast if they’d satisfied him sufficiently. Sometimes they didn’t even warrant a bed, if there was a solid wall or table handy and the atmosphere was right.

However, no matter where any woman was ranked, with the exception of his mother, he had one rule that he never broke: he never chased after them. In his opinion, he was good enough to have them chasing him and they did, so his energy would be wasted if he bothered.

Yet, here he was hovering in the corridor just outside the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes. It hadn’t taken him long to discover that she was a member of the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad — just a few carefully worded inquiries really. In the week since he’d bumped into her in Flourish and Blotts, she’d been on his mind constantly, even to the point that he’d not attempted to bed another woman, which was unheard of in his usually over-active social life. Somehow this Weasley woman had crawled under his skin and he craved another taste of her wicked sweetness.

The resolve to confront her that he’d had when he left his office was seeping away at an alarming rate and thoughts that he must be insane to have even contemplated coming here had started the moment he entered the Ministry. Never before had a woman given him cause to doubt himself. Yet here he was trying to talk himself into entering the very department where he knew he’d find her. The entire situation was ludicrous, in his opinion, but he still seemed unable to convince himself to move.

The sound of voices coming towards him from just inside the department forced him into the shadows. With no confidence in his convictions, Draco didn’t want to be seen by anyone who might report his presence within the department and, inadvertently, let her know he was here. As the voices drew closer he recognized one above all: hers. His heart started to hammer in his chest as they drew closer. Draco watched keenly from his position, only half hoping no one would notice him, seeing as she wasn’t alone, but at the same time desperately wanting to be noticed, if only to gauge her reaction. Luck was on his side, it seemed, because as they passed no one saw him and, more importantly, he overheard Weasley say that she was having lunch with her oaf of a brother, Ron.

Although he wouldn’t be able to see her, he knew she was simply going to lunch and would return in a while. Reluctant to hang around where someone might notice him, Draco decided to partake of some sustenance as well, and then come back, hopefully, in time to see her before she returned to her department. As he rode the elevator back to the Atrium, Draco decided to make his way to Diagon Alley. It was far better than choosing somewhere closer and having to tolerate the Muggles.

From the Atrium he Flooed directly to Diagon Alley — walking was most definitely a plebian mode of transport, in his opinion. As he entered The Leaky Cauldron he cast his eyes around for familiar faces hoping that he wouldn’t run into anyone he knew. It seemed just the old regulars were in a patronizing mood today, so Draco took a seat at the bar, confident that he would be able to eat quickly and return to the Ministry. When Tom came within earshot he ordered a shot of Firewhisky and the lunch special, without bothering to check what it was first.

The shot was just starting to warm his insides when a familiar voice floated through the old pub. Draco surreptitiously cast a glance over his shoulder in the direction the voice had come from. His first thoughts were confirmed when he spied red hair and freckles. There was just one problem: he saw two sets of red hair and freckles, one of them considerably less desirable than the other. A sense of self-preservation glued him to his barstool, because to get up and leave might have brought attention to himself. However, it wasn’t too difficult to overhear some of their conversation, because Weasley, the undesirable one, was still as loud as he was at Hogwarts.

Draco listened intently, not always able to hear the desirable Weasley’s response, but then for the most part the conversation was boring — mostly about their family, or so he presumed. About fifteen minutes after they sat down, Ron Weasley announced, rather crassly, that he had been suffering with an upset stomach all morning and would be back after he relieved himself for the umpteenth time since he awoke this morning. The face Draco was pulling only smoothed out once the door to the ‘little wizard’s room’ had closed with a desperate bang behind the man. The desired one was alone.

So as not to look too obvious, Draco slid off his stool and casually strolled over to her table. This was far better than hovering around the entrance to the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes. It was simply a chance meeting and he wasn’t chasing her at all, or so he tried to convince himself in the time it took him to reach her side. “Weasley,” he drawled.

She looked slightly alarmed when she looked up at him. “Malfoy, what are you doing here?”

“Lunch,” Draco answered simply.

“Oh… I’m having lunch with Ron.”

“I noticed.”

“He’ll be back soon,” she insisted earnestly as her eyes glanced over her shoulder in the direction of the men’s lavatory.

“From what I heard, he’s going to be a while,” Draco informed her as he slid into the chair next to hers.

“What are you doing?”

“Sitting down.”

“You can’t— If he sees you—“

“Believe me, Weasley, I don’t want that any more than you do.”

“Then what do you want?”

“Ah, the million Galleon question,” Draco drawled confidently.

“Malfoy, just tell me!”

“It’s simple really—“ Draco reached over and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. “—I want you.”

“Me?”

“For some reason I can’t quite put you out of my mind.”

“You can’t be serious.”

Draco allowed his fingers to trail up her thigh. “I’m perfectly serious, Weasley, and you can’t deny that we were good together.”

“I—well—we were both drunk,” she stammered.

“Not in Flourish and Blotts,” Draco pointed out.

A vivid rose-colored blush appeared from beneath the neckline of her robes and rushed up her chest, into her face. Draco knew he was pressuring her by the way she wouldn’t meet his intense gaze, but he couldn’t help himself, he wanted her desperately. Besides, he was positive if she truly didn’t want his attentions he would be wailing in pain right about now, instead of sitting next to her, stroking her cheek in what appeared to be an absent manner.

“Why don’t we get out of here?” Draco whispered as his lips hovered over hers.

“Ron… work… I—“

Her excuses were cut short as he claimed her lips feverishly. For a moment she didn’t respond and he was a little worried, but then the little minx slipped her tongue into his mouth and he forgot to think about anything. His fingers wove through her silky tresses, tangling themselves and ensuring she wasn’t going to run away.

All of a sudden she began trying to pull away, and Draco had no choice but to release her a little or he’d end up hurting her.

“I heard a door… Ron—“

Draco cast a quick, rather panicked, glance in the direction of the men’s room and sure enough Weasley was standing there, thankfully with his back to them, talking to some old drunk. “I’ll see you—” His words dried up in his mouth as Weasley began to turn around. It was like one of those horrid dreams where everything was happening in slow motion and no matter what you did you couldn’t stop it from happening.

A pair of hands started pushing him down towards the floor. Paralyzed with fear, Draco obeyed the insistent pressure and soon found himself staring at Ginny Weasley’s knees. He looked around at the floor he was crouched on and tried not to gag. The Leaky Cauldron’s staff certainly weren’t what one would call diligent in their duties. He shuddered to think exactly what his clothing was coming in contact with, especially his right knee, which was very slowly absorbing some mysterious fluid. There was one thing for certain: he would have to discard these robes when he got home.

He had to get out of here, but just as the thought surfaced in his brain a sharp kick landed in the small of his back. Weasley had returned to the table and had effectively trapped him with his abnormally large feet. Trapped! A sliver of fear began to snake its way up his spine. If he was caught there was no way he could talk his way out of it or even escape quickly.

Ginny sounded like she had recovered enough to appear normal, or normal enough that her older brother wouldn’t suspect she had a wizard between her legs. What he could hear of their conversation could only be of interest to Weasleys or those of limited intelligence and expiration from boredom was becoming a serious hazard after five minutes under the table. Draco just wished they’d finish their lunch and leave, so he could extract himself and work out exactly how he was going to get some time alone with her. From what he heard, she wasn’t even trying to expedite their departure. A frustrated growl sat in the back of his throat, unvoiced yet eager to be heard.

He needed to remind her that he was still here and he wanted to get out before he was discovered, because the longer he remained, the more chance there was of discovery and he really didn’t feel up to being tortured today. As his hand came up to rest on her thigh he felt her tense. A wicked smirk crossed his face as an equally wicked idea filtered through his mind.

With care, Draco started to gently stroke her inner thigh, climbing a little higher each time his fingers moved. At first, she tensed again, then she moved her leg away from his hand, and in doing so gave him greater access to the inside of her thigh. When she tried to move her leg back to its previous position, Draco strategically placed his shoulder in the way. His fingers continued their busy little trip up her leg until they reached her knickers. It was then that he received a stinging slap from her.

“Is everything all right?” Ron asked with concern in his tone.

“Yeah, it was—a— err—spider,” Ginny stammered unconvincingly.

“You killed it, didn’t you?”

Draco had to bite the side of his mouth to keep from laughing aloud. Even he could hear the cold panic in Weasley’s voice.

“Yes, I think so,” Ginny answered.

“Just make sure,” Ron insisted, moving his legs as far away from his sister as he could.

Even though the coppery taste of blood filled his mouth, Draco bit down harder on his flesh. He was only seconds from losing control. When Ginny’s head suddenly appeared beneath the table he sobered immediately. Her eyes were narrowed in a deadly glare.

“Stop it,” she hissed.

“And what if I don’t?” Draco whispered in return.

“I’ll tell Ron I was mistaken about the spider… I’ll let him it’s a ferret.”

“You wouldn’t?”

She smirked at him and disappeared.

Once again he found himself alone with the grimy underworld of the Leaky Cauldron’s floor. Draco could hear her reassuring her coward of a brother that there was no longer a spider under the table. He relaxed as much as he could in the position he was in, resting his arms on her legs, because he didn’t want to place his hands on the filthy floor. Every minute felt like an hour to him, and his legs were slowly, but surely, going numb. With nothing else to occupy his time, Draco began unconsciously trailing his fingers over her legs.

The next thing he knew he was cradling his hand, trying desperately not to cry out in pain and alert anyone else to his presence. She had pinched him when he’d allowed his hand to wander too high. He was going to make her pay for that vicious little swipe, if he managed to escape in one piece.

A short time later the four feet around him began to move. Draco had just breathed a sigh of relief when one of the feet connected firmly with the small of his back. “Fuck,” he hissed with tears brimming in his eyes.

“What was that?” Ron asked.

“I kicked the table,” Ginny answered quickly.

Draco held still, his heart hammering in his chest, just waiting for Weasley to stick his head under the table and discover his presence.

“Tables don’t curse,” Ron pointed out.

“Curse?” Ginny laughed. “Ronald, you’re hearing things!”

As their voices grew further away, Draco relaxed. He waited until he could no longer see their feet and then he scrambled out from under the table. When he stood up, Draco couldn’t quite believe the state of his clothes. Some indescribable sludge was slowly running off his pants and he smelled like he’d rolled in something dead. Repulsed, Draco sent a hard glare in the direction of the bar.

“You need to clean the floor,” Draco snarled, unable to help himself from commenting.

The only acknowledgement he received was a disinterested glance from Tom, the publican.

With a snarl Draco stalked towards the Diagon Alley exit. His hand had just landed on the door handle when it was wrenched out of his grasp. An anxious looking Ginny Weasley almost bowled him over as she burst into the pub.

“Weasley, slow down,” Draco grunted as he caught her by the shoulders.

“Oh—you’re here— I got rid of Ron,” she stammered. “I just wanted to make sure you knew it was safe.”

“Your brother is gone?”

She nodded. “Yes, I told him I left something at the table.”

“Good,” Draco drawled. “You and I have some unfinished business to attend to.”

Her eyes opened wide. “Unfinished business? No, I have to get back to work.”

Rather than argue the point with words, Draco advanced on her until he’d back her up against the cold stone wall of the pub. His hands cupped her face and held it in position as he poured every ounce of heat he possessed into one kiss. At first she didn’t respond, but then he could feel her melting into him. When her tongue started its slow exotic dance with his, Draco could feel his temperature rising. He had to have her again. To deny himself would have been like denying one oxygen.

“Now, should we find somewhere to finish our business?” Draco whispered into her ear.

“I—I can’t.”

To Draco’s ears, she sounded genuinely disappointed through her erratic breathing. He’d had a definite effect on her, so now it was time to exploit the fact. “I insist.”

“No.” She pushed against his chest, making him take a step back. “I have to get back to work.”

Draco masked his disappointment while he tried to think of a way to get her to succumb to his charm. Of course, the fact that he had her in his arms now and didn’t want to let her go was overriding his thoughts, but she was insistent about returning to work. “Can’t you take the afternoon off?”

“I have an important meeting. If I don’t go back, they’ll think something happened to me,” Ginny replied.

He couldn’t deny that he could see the logic in her argument, and the last thing he needed was some sort of Ministry ‘witch’ hunt as they tried to locate her. “Tonight then?”

“Where?”

“Meet me on the steps of Gringott’s at five o’clock.”

“All right, but where are we going to go—“

“I don’t know yet, but I’ll think of somewhere.” He knew they couldn’t be seen together. It was all right at a drunken party for a friend to dare him to shag her, but this revisiting thing was not considered acceptable for a casual encounter, which is what she was, or so he told himself.

She nodded. “I should go.”

Draco followed her out to the public Floos in Diagon Alley. As usual, the shopping district was overrun with people, and it was quite possible that they could go unnoticed in the throngs, despite the fact that they both belonged to two very distinctive families.

Ginny was digging around her handbag, obviously for her stash of Floo powder, as they walked. Just as she reached to public hearth, Draco reached out and grabbed her arm, drawing her back to him. His actions were reckless, but he didn’t give the consequences a second thought as his lips once again connected with hers in a sense of urgency. He simply didn’t want to let her go right now or, if he was completely honest, in the foreseeable future.

Her hands pushed against his chest with more power than he thought her small frame possible of possessing.

“Not here! We could be seen,” she whispered harshly.

“I just—“

Ginny shook her head. “I’ll see you later.”

“Oi! Is he bothering you, Ginny?”

Draco’s heart immediately tried to jump out his chest. She had relatives everywhere. How could he have forgotten that fact?

She groaned and sighed heavily, before turning to face George. “No, it’s all right. I dropped something, and Malfoy was just returning it.”

George eyed him up and down with an unreadable expression. “That better had be all it was,” he warned.

“How utterly charming,” Draco declared pompously. “I perform a gentlemanly act, and this is the thanks I receive.”

“Just bugger off and leave her alone,” George growled.

Draco sneered at the lanky man with ginger hair before turning on his heel and moving into the crowds of people flowing into Diagon Alley. He couldn’t believe how stupid he had been. Since when did he put his life at risk for a woman? After tonight he vowed to tell her that he couldn’t continue this foolishness.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

AUTHOR’S NOTE

Thanks to Rainpuddle13 for her wonderful beta skills!

3. Uninvited Guests

Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the characters you may recognize from the wonderful world of Harry Potter, they all belong to the revered JK Rowling; I just like to play with them a little.

THE RULES OF ENGAGEMENT

UNINVITED GUESTS

It felt like he’d been waiting for hours rather than minutes. Draco took his eyes off the street to check his timepiece for the umpteenth time and sighed heavily. She was officially late. He grumbled to himself and added that to the mental list of reasons he couldn’t continue this, whatever it was they were doing.

He tried to look casual as he stood in the corner of the vast veranda of the bank and, for the most part, he was sure he succeeded. At this time of the afternoon people were simply interested in getting their errands finished and heading home. The staff of Gringotts was starting to filter out of the building, but they paid him no mind.

A flash of red hair in the street caught his eye, and he was relieved to see that it was her and not one of her brothers — he’d had quite enough near misses today and he was afraid his luck might just run out at some point. She smiled at him as she mounted the stairs and his irritation instantly dissolved, replaced by a swarm of skydiving Snitches trapped in his stomach. Draco frowned a little, wondering if he was coming down with something. The last thing he wanted was to get sick when he finally had her all to himself for the evening.

“Sorry, I got caught up at the office,” Ginny said as she joined him near the wall of the bank.

“You’re here now,” Draco uttered.

“Where are we going?”

“I thought we might—” Draco’s mouth went dry and panic began to flood his body. “Does one of your brothers work here?”

“Bill does, he’s a curse breaker.”

Before she’d even finished explaining, Draco had taken two rather large steps backwards. His desperate bid to not be seen had stolen his sense of distance from him and he’d stepped off the veranda a few inches from where the steps finished, falling to the ground below. Unable to move, Draco simply lay where he landed, trying to suck oxygen back into his lungs. He’d landed squarely on his back, and it felt like every bone in his body had shattered on impact. What was even more irritating was the fact that he could feel the sludge that was trying to pass itself off as snow seeping into his clothing.

“Ginny, what are you doing here?”

“Bill! I’m just waiting for a friend,” Ginny replied. “We’re going out to dinner.”

“What’s his name?”

“Her. I’m going out with a friend, not a man.”

“I’m starting to worry about you,” Bill said. “You don’t seem to go out with men very often.”

“Oh, I do, I just don’t tell you about my dates.”

“Why not?”

“Let me think.” She paused for a short while. “You’d tell Charlie, who would tell Ron, then he’d tell the twins and they’d tell Percy.”

“Sounds about right.”

“Then you’d all start planning and digging a rather deep hole in some vacant field somewhere.”

“We’re not that bad.”

“If you weren’t, I wouldn’t have to keep secrets,” Ginny pointed out. “Are you on your way home?”

“Yeah, I should get going or Fleur will kill me for being late. Will you be all right waiting alone?”

“I was before you turned up.”

“Right. Well, have a good night.”

“Thanks. Say hello to Fleur for me and give Victoire a kiss.”

“I will.”

“Bye.”

Draco was thankful that her brother hadn’t seen him, though he had no idea how the man had missed him falling from the veranda or the noise he made when he landed. While he couldn’t hear any further conversation above him, he wasn’t quite game enough to move yet. After all, it would have been a shame to stand up a few seconds too early.

“Malfoy, are you all right?”

He opened his eyes and peered upwards. Ginny was still standing on the veranda looking down at him with concern etched into her face. “I think so.”

“Can you get up?”

“Yes, of course.” Draco groaned as he lifted himself off the cobblestones.

The fact that he hadn’t moved while she’d been talking to her brother was mostly attributable to the fact that he didn’t honestly think he could, but he wasn’t going to let her know that now. By the time he was upright again, she had joined him on the street.

“Oh, you’re filthy,” she expressed, looking him up and down.

“Again,” Draco snarled under his breath. “Look, I’ll have to change before we go to dinner. Perhaps you can go and have a cup of coffee somewhere?”

“I could come with you,” Ginny suggested.

“You could, but we’d run the risk of running into my parents and, even if we didn’t, the servants would tell them I had a woman in the house,” Draco told her.

“I have been to your place, haven’t I?”

“I keep a flat in London, so I can entertain privately, but it doesn’t have all that much in the way of clothing.”

Ginny laughed. “So you still live with your parents?”

“I see no reason to move out entirely,” Draco admitted haughtily. “I have everything I want there and more. Servants to do everything for me—“

“It’s all right; you don’t have to get all defensive. I just find it amusing.”

“It’s not amusing,” Draco snapped. At least the reasons he’d given her weren’t, but he shuddered to think what she’d make of the real reason he was essentially still living under his parents roof. He had acquired the up market London flat with full intentions of moving in there, but when he presented the idea to his parents his mother had had a conniption of colossal proportions, so to keep her happy he remained at Malfoy Manor. “Are you saying you don’t live with your parents?”

“Nope, I have my own flat.”

Why he had thought she still lived at home with her parents was a mystery, but he supposed it was because he did, and she seemed far less worldly than anyone else he knew, so it stood to reason, in his mind anyway. His thoughts were getting far too off track and this conversation was becoming entirely too personal for his liking. “Look, I’ll just see if Twilfit and Tattings has something suitable in stock,” Draco said hurriedly.

“Madam Malkin’s is only two doors down,” Ginny pointed out, looking in the direction of the long established robe maker.

“Twilfit and Tattings are more likely to have something suitable,” Draco informed her. “I’m not after school robes.”

“Sorry,” Ginny expressed in an exaggerated tone.

Draco turned just in time to see her roll her eyes at him. “There is nothing wrong with having standards, Weasley.”

“That all depends on what those standards entail,” Ginny muttered as she followed Draco’s lead and walked in the direction of the more expensive robe maker.

They arrived at Twilfit and Tattings just as the proprietor was casting the locking charms on the door of his shop. After some gentle persuasion and much jingling of the large bag of gold in his pocket, Draco convinced the man to reopen the store for him.

After a quick, but detailed, explanation of what he wanted the storekeeper started presenting various robes for Draco’s approval. He tried on several, refusing to move into the private fitting room and away from Ginny, whose opinion he called upon for each outfit. It wasn’t that he respected her opinion on quality robes, after all she didn’t understand the difference between Madam Malkin’s and Twilfit and Tattings, but he was never one to miss an opportunity to show off his well-toned body to a potential bedmate, and that was what he intended her to become again before the sun rose. His intention to tell her that they couldn’t continue with whatever it was they had was firmly slated for breakfast conversation.

He could feel her eyes roaming over his chest, and he was pleased to see her tongue flick out to wet her lips. It was a sure sign that he was having the desired affect on his date. At that point Draco realized that he was wasting time and quickly decided to take the entire outfit he had just finished putting on. The robes were basic black, which was a very flattering color for him, and even though the fabric wasn’t of the quality he preferred, they still hung quite nicely off his tall frame.

Draco asked the proprietor to ensure his dirty clothing was returned to Malfoy Manor and gave the man a little extra for his trouble before escorting Ginny into the street. Now that his attire was back in order, he had a feeling that this was going to be an excellent night.

“I thought we’d have some dinner and see what takes our fancy afterwards,” Draco explained as they wandered up Diagon Alley.

“Where?”

“I know an intimate restaurant where no one we know will disturb us.”

“Are you positive?”

“Weasley, it’s too expensive for your lot and my friends prefer other restaurants over the one I have in mind.”

“Why?”

“This is the type of place our grandparents would patronize, so we generally don’t,” Draco answered simply.

“You’re positive we won’t see anyone who knows us?”

Draco smirked. He was quite pleased with himself for having thought of this particular establishment; it really was the perfect place for them to enjoy a little sustenance before they enjoyed each other’s company. “My grandparents are long dead and yours couldn’t afford it.”

“Okay,” Ginny muttered with a frown.

Draco guided her to the restaurant door with a hand strategically placed on the small of her back. He ignored her worried expression with confidence, as he was sure it would fade the moment she stepped inside and saw for herself the type of clientele this restaurant attracted.

As always the restaurant was sparsely populated with magical folk with an average age of around eighty or ninety. The maitre d’ showed them to a small table at the rear of the establishment and promised their waiter would be with them soon.

“I told you this was a safe place,” Draco boasted once the maitre d’ was out of earshot.

“It is perfect,” Ginny agreed, turning around to examine their surrounds.

“The food is excellent as well.”

“Good,” Ginny replied absently, a frown creasing her brow.

“What is with the screwed up face, Weasley? You’ve been doing that quite a bit this evening,” Draco asked, his concern finally moving him to words. A woman who frowned was not thinking between the sheets.

Ginny shook her head a little as she turned to face the blond across from her. “I just thought I saw—“

“Fuck!”

“Oh no, tell me I was wrong! Please!”

“Table—hide—fuck!”

After some momentary scrambling, Ginny was safely hidden beneath the table with the tablecloth giving her a little extra cover. Draco was cursing under his breath while he watched his perfectly planned evening slide into disrepair. He was certain they wouldn’t recover from this latest disturbance, at least not enough to convince her to have breakfast with him at any rate.

A snarl of frustration built up in his throat, but he swallowed it quickly. This is what he got for playing with his rules. She was a casual encounter and, therefore, didn’t warrant dinner. Why he’d been compelled to treat her like a friend with benefits was quite beyond his comprehension at the moment. Though there was a nagging thought in the back of his mind that he’d even stepped over the mark there as well, because he had gone to the Ministry of Magic chasing her company and, while she didn’t know that, he couldn’t deny the knowledge of his actions to himself.

“Mother, Father, what a surprise to see you here,” Draco expressed politely as his parents approached the table. His inner turmoil was hidden expertly from the world at large and, most especially, his parents, who would have a conniption if they knew the youngest Weasley was beneath his table.

He struggled to stand, as protocol demanded, to greet his mother properly, and somehow he managed not to garner any more than a slightly raised eyebrow from his father, as his ungainly movement caught the older man’s eye.

“Draco darling,” Narcissa chimed as she accepted his poorly executed kiss to her cheek.

“Draco,” Lucius drawled. “This is a surprise.”

“I didn’t expect to see you here tonight,” Draco responded, ignoring his father’s implied question.

“Your father thought he might treat me to dinner out this evening,” Narcissa informed him with a happy smile.

Damn! I should have gone straight for the shag and buggered eating… She wouldn’t have cared, he taunted himself. “You deserve it, Mother.”

“Are you expecting someone?” Lucius inquired.

“I—err—that is—yes,” Draco stammered. “Yes, I am expecting someone.”

“You don’t sound too confident,” Lucius observed casually as he held the chair Ginny had previously occupied out for his wife.

“No—yes—I mean, I’m definitely expecting someone,” Draco insisted while trying to mask the horror he felt as his father took a chair from a nearby table and made himself comfortable next to his wife. If he could have cursed aloud, he most definitely would have, but to do so in front of his mother was not good for his health, especially when his father was within hexing distance.

“You don’t mind if we join you until your date arrives, do you?”

Draco snarled mentally. As if he had a choice. There was no way he could send them away, which meant he was stuck with his parents for the evening, because his date was hiding under the table. “Of course not,” he replied evenly. She is not a date or a friend, he added to himself sternly.

“Is there something wrong, darling?” Narcissa asked.

“Not at all, Mother.” Draco forced himself to smile for her sake. He could feel Ginny pressing against his legs. If they didn’t get caught it would be a miracle.

Minutes began to feel like hours as his mother’s small talk filled his ears. Draco could only hope that he was responding in the right places and with appropriate answers. He knew he could only get away with monosyllabic answers for so long, but he just couldn’t seem to focus on the conversation to do any better. His thoughts were circling around his bizarre behavior to garner the attention of the woman currently under the table. The only answer he could come up with was that there was something dreadfully wrong with him.

“What time is your friend supposed to be joining you?” Lucius inquired.

“She must have been held up,” Draco answered evasively. “If you want to eat I can wait alone.”

“Nonsense, you can eat with us,” Narcissa insisted. “I’m sure your date won’t mind, considering she’s so late.”

“I—err—” Draco’s tongue refused to spit out something intelligible to decline his mother’s demand.

He watched on helplessly as Lucius summoned the waiter and placed his and Narcissa’s order. When his father’s expectant eyes landed on Draco, he fumbled with the menu for a few seconds. Without really examining what was on offer, Draco ordered the first thing he thought he recognized and handed the menu to the waiter.

The waiter looked around the table and frowned. “The young lady—“

“Hasn’t arrived, as of yet,” Draco cut in loudly.

“Of course, sir.” The waiter bowed slightly and moved away from the table with a frown on his face.

Ever the hostess, Narcissa continued her nonsensical conversation while they waited for their meals. Draco tried to banish all thoughts of what he was doing with the Weasley witch and whatever might be wrong with him, so he could concentrate on his mother’s conversation. He had succeeded for the most part, but just as he was responding in a semi-intelligent way to something Narcissa had called to his attention Ginny moved, forcing her way between his legs hurriedly. At the same time a frown creased his father’s forehead and went to look under the table.

“Oww,” Draco said, albeit a little late. “Was that your foot, Father?”

“My apologies,” Lucius articulated politely, sitting up straight again. “I thought there was more room under the table.”

“They’re a little deceptive,” Draco said as relief washed over him.

When their food arrived Draco almost felt guilty. An emotion that didn’t sit comfortably with him, especially not when it was attached to a casual shag. Perhaps once he’d satisfied his lust his inexplicable behavior would rectify itself? He’d meant to share a nice meal with Weasley, and then find somewhere a little less public to shag her brains out, but she was under the table and he was having dinner with his parents. The uncomfortable feeling didn’t last long, because as he sat there playing with his food Ginny decided to play with his self-control. Draco instinctively tried to slap her roaming hand away, which earned him a curious look from his father, but nothing was said, nor did Ginny give up on her quest.

He could feel his pants growing tight as she stroked him through the fabric and as the blood in his body flowed in a southerly direction his ability to think with any clarity slid away. When her cheeky little hand opened his fly, he masked his shock and surprise with a fake coughing fit. Narcissa instantly started fussing over whether he was falling ill, but his father sat back and watched him curiously. It was at that moment that Draco knew that touching this woman in the first place was a mistake of epic proportions and now he was going to have to deal with the consequences — not that they felt all that bad right at the moment.

Not wanting to risk attracting his father’s attention again, Draco had no choice but to sit there and let the nefarious witch between his knees have her wicked way with his bits. At one point, when his eyes must have glazed over, Lucius cleared his throat loudly to get his attention again. He was usually fairly good at multitasking, but concentrating on what his mother was saying about this season’s wardrobe offerings and the lack of good company at the garden tea parties she was attending was a little difficult when the vixen under the table was swirling her hot tongue around the head of his cock like it was an ice cream cone. There was no doubt in Draco’s mind that his astute father knew there was someone beneath the table, but, thankfully, Lucius did have enough sense not to mention his suspicions in front of his wife. Draco knew if his mother were to find out there would be hell to pay.

In an effort to maintain some semblance of control, Draco turned his thoughts to what he was doing with this woman. At least if he was preoccupied with kicking his own backside for breaking the rules he might have a chance at staving off the desire to scream her name or some profanity as he climaxed. The first thing he did when he met a woman was classify her, and Weasley had most definitely been classified as a casual shag. Then she had begun to haunt his every waking moment and quite often his dreams as well. Rules were there for a reason, he reminded himself, and if he’d stuck to them none of this would be happening.

By the time his parents had finished their main courses, he’d hardly managed a mouthful; it was difficult to eat when someone was trying to devour him. He could only hope that he didn’t come while his mother was sitting opposite him. Ginny had been relentless in her efforts to garner his attention, and he was only just hanging onto his outer-control by the skin of his teeth, and even that was fraying at an alarming rate. He could feel the heat in his face and was positive he was flushed, which was going to prompt his mother to start feeling his forehead if his luck continued to run the way it had been. All he needed was for his mother to get up and discover what was lurking beneath the tablecloth.

“Darling, you’ve hardly touched your meal,” Narcissa expressed with concern. “Is there something wrong with it?”

“No, Mother, the food is fine. I’m just a tad distracted,” Draco responded with a tight smile.

“No doubt thinking of your absent date?” Lucius posed with a smirk.

Draco’s gray eyes met his father’s. If there was any lingering doubt about what his father had guessed it was now totally gone; Lucius knew there was someone under the table and that someone was doing wicked things to him while he tried to eat dinner with his parents. “I can’t imagine where she could have gotten to,” Draco uttered, daring fate to bring his situation to an end.

“I’m sure she’ll turn up eventually,” Lucius drawled. “We might make ourselves scarce and see if that tempts her out of hiding.”

“We’ve not had dessert yet,” Narcissa complained.

“We can stop at Florean Fortescue’s on the way home,” Lucius offered. “I’m in the mood for ice cream.”

“Very well,” Narcissa agreed stiffly.

Relief flooded through his body when his mother didn’t put up an argument. This torture would soon be over and his parents might even be a good ten feet away before he lost control.

Lucius stood, placing his napkin on his empty plate. “Did you wish to join us, Draco?”

“Thank you, Father, but I think I’ll wait for my date a little longer,” Draco ground out.

His father was now playing with him, knowing full well that Draco wouldn’t expose himself on purpose, but perhaps hoping that he might trip on his untruths before they left. Draco smiled at Lucius, but his eyes held a very different message, one that told the older wizard to leave well enough alone.

Lucius assisted his wife to stand and then pushed her chair back into the table. “Draco, are you going to bid good evening to your mother?”

Draco’s nostrils flared just slightly. He didn’t need to be told that he should have already been on his feet, but he had a slight personal problem. “Of course.”

With the utmost care Draco reached down to ensure his napkin would cover his engorged member before he attempted to stand up. As he reached for the thick linen cloth it was snatched out of his fingers. Just a touch of panic found its way to his eyes. His father was staring at him with a smirk that dared him to expose himself, and his mother was waiting for her goodnight kiss. Draco took a deep mental breath and stood up awkwardly, bringing the tablecloth with him to protect his mother from seeing him in such a condition.

“Are you all right, darling?” Narcissa asked.

“My leg seems to have fallen asleep, Mother. I’ll be fine once the blood starts flowing again,” Draco muttered, not wanting to create a scene. “Goodnight.”

“I would have thought it quite the opposite,” Lucius muttered not quite under his breath as Draco placed a chaste kiss on his mother’s cheek.

“Father,” Draco expressed politely as he inclined his head and glared at the older man.

Lucius merely smirked amusedly at him before leading his wife from the restaurant.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

AUTHOR’S NOTE

Thanks to Rainpuddle13 for her wonderful beta skills!

4. Too Much Information

Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the characters you may recognize from the wonderful world of Harry Potter, they all belong to the revered JK Rowling; I just like to play with them a little.

THE RULES OF ENGAGEMENT

TOO MUCH INFORMATION

The moment they turned away from the table Draco dropped back into his chair, relieved to have the cover of the solid table again. His hands were still clutching the tablecloth to his exposed member when Weasley’s head popped up beside him.

“Get back down,” Draco growled, placing his large hand on her head. “They’re not outside yet.”

“For goodness sakes, tell them to hurry up,” Ginny retorted. “My legs have gone to sleep, and I’m starving.”

“Just stay down until—” A movement on the other side of the table made Draco’s eyes snap up and panic flood his system again.

“Don’t let me interrupt,” Lucius said with an all too amused grin.

“Father, I—err didn’t see you approach,” Draco stammered.

“Obviously,” Lucius drawled.

Draco cleared his throat and gathered his thoughts quickly. He couldn’t allow his father to see how shaken he was. “Was there something you wanted?”

“I merely wanted to ensure you would take care of the bill,” Lucius responded.

“Of course.”

“Good. Well, enjoy your evening then,” Lucius intoned, nodding towards the table.

“I had intended to,” Draco answered dryly.

“A redhead… How interesting,” Lucius mused as he strode away.

Draco allowed his head to drop into his hands. He should have known better than to take his eyes off his father when Lucius was suspicious. The fact that his father had noticed the color of her hair wasn’t all that important, because if he’d seen exactly who was hiding beneath the table he’d have certainly made it known.

“Is it safe?”

“No,” Draco snapped.

“Just asking,” Ginny muttered unhappily.

His eyes followed his parents out of the door and out of sight. Several minutes after they’d disappeared he finally lifted the tablecloth. “It’s safe.”

“About bloody time,” Ginny complained. “I don’t think I can move.”

“Just get up here and don’t make a scene,” Draco instructed.

“Easier said than done,” Ginny grumbled.

“What is the problem?”

“I can’t feel my legs at all.”

“Fuck,” he hissed. “This is not my night.”

“Bugger your night! What about mine?” Ginny rejoined. “At least you’ve eaten.”

“I could say the same for you,” Draco answered acerbically.

“Didn’t hear you complaining,” Ginny shot back smartly.

Draco snorted indignantly. “What was I supposed to do? Tell you not to suck my cock while I’m trying to eat my veal? That would have gone down a treat with my mother sitting two feet away from me.”

“So you’re telling me you didn’t enjoy it?”

“I didn’t say that,” Draco mumbled. He didn’t want to give her the wrong idea and have her refuse to visit the idea later in the evening, preferably in a more private setting, so she can finish what she’d started.

Ginny smiled cheekily up at him. “I knew you were enjoying it.”

An acidic response was on the tip of his tongue, but he bit it back. There was no point in ruining the rest of the night, and if he played nicely he might just still be in with a chance. “Let me help you up.”

“Thank you.” Ginny started to giggle the moment he tried to stand up. “You might want to put something away first before you scare the rest of the diners.”

His mind had been so distracted with what he was looking forward to that he’d forgotten his fly was still very open and certain body parts were still rather obvious. With little finesse, Draco tucked himself in and fastened his fly; he was quite beyond worrying what others thought at this point. “I’ll lift you into a chair.”

“Okay, but I feel completely dead below the waist, so don’t expect me to be able to take any of my own weight,” Ginny warned.

“I think I can manage to lift you without assistance, Weasley,” Draco told her confidently as he placed his hands under her arms. “Here we go.”

Draco lifted her effortlessly and placed her in a chair, where she immediately started rubbing her numb limbs. His tongue flicked out unconsciously to wet his lips. Her legs were some of the shapeliest he’d ever had the pleasure to come across.

“Disgusting!”

Draco clenched his jaw and sighed mentally. He knew it was inevitable that they would eventually attract some attention from the other diners, but he had hoped no one would be crass enough to comment. The old woman who had dared to voice her opinion earned herself an icy glare from him, but it didn’t disturb the old hag, who had to be at least a hundred, if she was a day, and appeared haughty enough to make his mother look meek. Fearful of creating a larger, more unforgettable scene Draco turned his gaze back to Weasley. The last thing he needed was for one of the ancient witches or wizards who were in the restaurant to actually have a memorable evening because of him, just in case one of them decided to tell someone who might know one of them.

“I think we should get out of here, Weasley,” Draco said quietly.

“I haven’t eaten.”

“Nor have I really,” Draco countered. “We’ll get something elsewhere. I just want to get out of here before one of these fossils realizes who we are.”

“Why would they know who we are?”

“Weasley, we are both from rather prominent families in the community,” Draco hissed.

“No, I’m from a prominent, well known family. Your family is simply notorious these days.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Draco growled. “We need to move before someone recognizes us, if they haven’t already.”

“Fine, but you’ll have to wait until the feeling returns to my legs, unless you want to carry me.”

The idea was strangely appealing, even though it would attract more attention, it would allow them to escape sooner. “I’ll go and take care of the bill. It would be nice if you could be ready to leave by the time I get back.”

Ginny snorted in an unladylike fashion as he walked off. If the circumstances had been different he might have reacted, but as it was he ignored her for the time being. It wasn’t an unreasonable request, in his opinion, despite her seeming to think so, and if need be he would explain the danger of the situation to her later, once they were clear of the restaurant and in a very private setting.

It only took a few minutes to settle the bill and return to the table. Draco knew before he even got there that she wouldn’t be ready to leave yet and he prepared himself to do battle. “Weasley, are you ready?”

“No, I’m still trying to get the feeling back in my legs.”

“We can’t stay here,” Draco hissed, glancing around at the nearby diners. They were attracting more than a few curious stares. “I’ll assist you. Try to walk as normally as possible.”

“Easier said than done,” Ginny muttered.

He cursed himself all the way to the door for requesting a table at the back of the restaurant. Their ungainly progress attracted a lot of attention, and he could hear people whispering as they passed. By the time they’d reached the street, he was almost ready to put an end to the whole evening, and he most likely would have if it weren’t for the fact that she’d worked him into a state of frustration that he meant to have sorted before he left her company this evening.

Once their feet were safely on the cobblestone street, he moved them away from the restaurant windows and propped her up against the wall of a neighboring establishment. “Do you have any preferences of where you’d like to go?”

“Right now, I’d like to feel my toes again and have my legs stop aching,” Ginny retorted.

“So another restaurant is out of the question until your legs feel better?”

“Unless you’re going to carry me,” Ginny responded tartly. “I just want to go home.”

“Where’s home?”

“Above my brothers’ store.”

“And where is your brothers’ store?” Draco asked patiently.

“Down the street.”

“Fine, we’ll go back to your place then.”

“You’ll have to carry me,” she pointed out. “I really can’t walk right now.”

“Fine,” Draco ground out. At this point he’d agree to anything as long as he was getting out of the public eye.

She squealed loud enough to wake the dead when he slung her across his shoulder. If they didn’t attract even more attention now it would be a miracle. He could see tomorrow’s ‘Daily Prophet’ headlines already: Malfoy Heir Kidnaps Weasley Witch. Just the thought was giving him second thoughts about his actions, but then a possible headline for the day after entered his head: Malfoy Heir Murdered By Rabid Redheads. Now he just wanted to drop her in the street and run away.

He was wondering exactly how far this store was when Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes came into view and everything dropped into place for him. “How do we get into your flat?”

“There’s a rear entrance down the side of the building.”

“Right.” As he entered the laneway running down the side of the building he drew his wand and muttered Lumos, so he could see where he was going.

“The door is almost all the way down,” Ginny informed him.

“Your brothers won’t be there will they?” Draco asked, suddenly realizing that all he knew was that she didn’t live with her parents.

“Of course not. They’ll be at their own homes, unless they’re working late.”

Draco stopped dead. After the day he’d had the last thing he needed to do was run into her twin brothers. “What do you mean?”

“Sometimes they work late,” Ginny said. “I think we’re safe though.”

“How do you know?”

“They need light to work by and the shop was in blackness, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah, it was,” Draco responded uncertainly. Had the store been in darkness? He couldn’t recall for certain.

When he finally reached a doorway, Draco placed her on her feet and she unlocked the door. At first glance there appeared to be a steep staircase on the other side of the door, but a second peek informed him that there was also a narrow corridor.

“Tell me your legs are enough to walk on your own now.”

“I think I’ll manage.”

“Thank Merlin,” Draco muttered under his breath. It wasn’t that she was heavy or anything like that, but negotiating that staircase with a woman in his arms could have been disastrous.

“Come on.” Ginny beckoned him as she mounted the stairs. “I thought you wanted to get out of sight.”

The trip upstairs was slow as she practically pulled herself up using the banister. He heard her groan a couple of times, but he didn’t comment, because the last thing he wanted to do was get into a longwinded conversation about how much her legs hurt when they could be enjoying other activities. Besides the view of her arse moving under her clothing was more than appreciated for the time being. When she reached the landing, Ginny unlocked the door using her wand.

“If I don’t keep the flat locked I’m likely to come home and find one of the twins sleeping on my couch,” Ginny informed him, as she discarded her cloak.

“Why would they—“

“Mine is more comfortable than either of theirs, apparently.” Ginny laughed lightly. “If you ask me, it’s because mine is further away from their respective wives’ glare.”

“Makes sense,” Draco mumbled as he looked around the modest flat for somewhere to hang his cloak. With no obvious rack for the garment, he carefully laid it across the back of a chair. The room they’d stepped into appeared to be a living room with a small kitchen in the corner. There was only one door, aside from the front door, leading from the room and he presumed that was the bedroom. “Where’s the bathroom?”

“Through there.” Ginny pointed to the door. “Excuse the mess in the bedroom.”

“I didn’t need—I was wondering— should I—err—” Draco stammered.

“Okay, well it’s through the bedroom,” Ginny cut in.

Draco nodded as he took in more of the small flat. It was cozy, he supposed, with its old, mismatched furnishings.

“I think I have some crumpets around here somewhere,” Ginny called from the kitchen. “Are you hungry?”

“Starving,” Draco responded in a low predatory tone as his eyes followed her voice to the kitchen. The view of her stretching up to reach a high shelf in the overhead cupboard caused his mind to wander down his favorite path. When his hands began to warm, as if they were already experiencing the wonders of her naked flesh beneath them, he knew it was time to act. A few long strides were all he needed to close the distance between them and gather her in his arms. “Sod the crumpets.”

“But—“

She only had time to utter one word before his mouth crashed down on hers. He wasn’t prepared to allow her any argument, and the easiest way to deny her was to keep her mouth busy. They were finally alone and wasting time eating seemed sinful, in his opinion. With the luck they’d been having, her entire family would be banging down the door in about two seconds, so he had to make the most of the time they had.

To say she reacted favorably was an understatement. Draco was pleased to feel her fingers clawing at his clothes and delighted when one of his buttons popped from the force she had applied, and then even more so when he realized her actions gave him permission to discard her clothing. Without losing contact with her mouth, his hands found their way to her bodice. As his shirt was tugged unceremoniously out of his trousers her top slipped off her shoulders. One quick glance down at what he’d exposed and his mouth was watering profusely. All he wanted to do was rid her of the rest of her garments and sink into her.

In an effort to close the distance between his mouth and her tasty looking breasts, Draco pressed a series of kisses down the column of her neck while his hands busied themselves with releasing her skirt. She tasted as sweet as fine chocolate, and if given the opportunity he’d feast upon her all night long.

“Bedroom,” she uttered breathlessly into his ear.

“Here will do,” Draco responded, his breath on her now wet neck, sending gooseflesh crawling over the immediate area and down her chest pleasingly.

“Open Floo… anyone could…”

Draco got the message through her panted words and decided that a move to the bedroom might be a good idea, because if they were disturbed again he might have to do something drastic, like kidnap her. Without losing contact with her, he began to slowly walk them in the direction of the bedroom door. Somewhere around the halfway mark he paused to toe his shoes off, so he could step out of his trousers before he tripped over them. While they were still, he divested her of her skirt and coaxed her to step out of her shoes; all he needed was for her to fall and hurt herself after he’d waited so long. Before they resumed their travels, her mouth had found his chest and exploring every inch of it with ardor.

It seemed almost ludicrous that he was so worked up already. She hadn’t touched him since before they’d left the restaurant and he’d had a strenuous walk in the cold night air, which had seemingly settled him down. Yet, here he was with his cock straining to escape his boxers after only a few minutes of snogging and a glimpse of a little more flesh. It was a little perturbing, not that he could spend any time considering the implications right now.

Just as they reached the bedroom door, she forced his boxers down over his hips. With the bed now in view he didn’t want to stop, but not to would have seen him sprawled on the wooden floorboards as his boxers fell around his ankles. He had a little difficulty shaking the silk undergarment off his feet, due to it getting caught on his socks — which would have to come off soon, because he couldn’t abide shagging in his socks unless his shoes were on and he had a woman pressed up against a wall — but eventually he kicked it clear.

They fell onto the bed in a tangle of arms and legs. His hands came around to cup her breasts, massaging them firmly through the lace of her bra. From the moans she was involuntarily releasing, he could tell she approved of his attention. Her nipples were like two little rocks threatening to tear through the fine lace of the under garment. One of her hands was on his balls, caressing them with a touch that was all too capable of driving him to the very edge of his control. He could feel gooseflesh creeping up his body as little bolts of pure pleasure shot to his extremities. Tired of the barrier covering her body, he slipped one hand around to her back and deftly unhooked her brassiere. Impatient to taste her again, Draco nosed her loose bra upwards, his mouth at the ready to catch her unfettered breasts.

Bang… Bang… Bang…

Startled by the sudden intrusion of noise, Draco jerked away from Ginny.

“Shit,” Ginny expressed as she scrambled away from him with wide eyes.

“Who is it?” Draco hissed.

“How should I know?” Ginny retorted, pulling her bathrobe around her almost naked body.

“Ignore it,” Draco urged, trying to pull her back to him, but another insistent knock on the door echoed through the small flat.

“I can’t,” Ginny whispered. “Just stay in here.”

“Like I have a choice,” Draco muttered discontentedly as the bedroom door closed. If he didn’t get some relief soon he was going to have to resort to helping himself.

He moved to the door, so he could hear what was going on. Another knock sounded before Ginny reached the front door.

“Hermione,” Ginny said as the door opened.

“Sorry for bursting in like this, Ginny. Have you seen Harry?”

“Not since lunchtime.”

“Damn! We had the most awful row.”

“Did you?”

“He stormed out, and now I can’t find him.”

“He’s probably with Ron or at the pub.”

“I checked the pub and Ron’s not home.”

“Oh— Well, if I see him I’ll send him home.”

“Sorry, I wasn’t disturbing anything, was I?”

“No… No, of course not. I was just about to have a shower and go to bed.”

“Are you really tired?”

“Well, I—“

“It’s just that I’d love a cup of tea and a chat.”

Draco groaned.

“Sure, I’ll put the water on.”

As Ginny’s affirmative response floated under the door Draco’s head dropped into his hands. He was in hell, but there was no sign of frost.

“I’ll just go to the loo first.”

“Oh—umm— it’s a real mess in there!”

“Ginny, when is your room not a mess? Honestly, your mother would have a fit if she saw how you live.”

Panic flooded Draco’s body when he realized that Granger was going to enter the bedroom. A quick inspection of the darkened room revealed no obvious place to hide. He could already hear her hand on the door, so with no other option Draco threw himself under the bed. His bits instantly tried to disappear the minute they came in contact with the cold wood floor. From his position, he watched Granger’s feet move across the floor and into the bathroom. The moment the bathroom door closed he was going to make a run for it.

Draco waited. He knew she’d entered the bathroom, but the door hadn’t closed yet. After several long seconds he chanced a glance in the direction of the small room. The bathroom door was wide open and he could see directly in the doorway, and Granger was sitting on the toilet. Disbelief clouded his thoughts. She was sitting there with her knickers around her ankles using the lavatory only meters away from him. He turned his head in disgust as she reached for the toilet roll. There really were some things a single bloke shouldn’t know about.

He couldn’t believe what he’d just witnessed. Potter would have a conniption if he knew Draco had been watching his girlfriend use the bathroom. This thought helped him get over the initial horror, though he wasn’t sure it was going to be enough to keep the nightmares at bay.

He was trapped, and no amount of amusement or horror over what had just happened changed that fact. Disgruntled with the situation, Draco started to carefully slide out from under the bed, but stopped suddenly when he realized Granger had failed to close the bedroom door, and he could see the women sitting at Ginny’s small kitchen table, which meant they could see him if they looked hard enough. It wasn’t as if he could escape or anything, but it was damned uncomfortable under the bed; the floor was freezing, hard and dusty — not his idea of the best position to spend the evening in.

After five minutes of listening to Granger bemoan her problems with Potter, he thought he might just go insane, but when she started talking about problems in the bedroom he actually began to wish for a swift death. He knew that women often had more open relationships than men did, it wasn’t a national secret or anything, but he had no idea they talked in such depth about subjects of such a private nature.

“His obsession with modesty is driving me nutters.”

“Harry’s always been a bit shy,” Ginny responded.

A trait not shared by ex-girlfriend, Draco thought wickedly.

“Ginny, he won’t even get changed in front of me, and if I accidentally walk in while he’s changing he covers up like some frightened schoolboy.”

Draco sniggered to himself.

“I’m sure it’s just—“

“We’ve been together for years.” Hermione sighed heavily enough for Draco to hear her desperation. “You’d think he’d be able to drop his pants in front of me by now.”

“It’s just not how he is,” Ginny answered weakly.

“And if I even suggest that we leave the light on while we make love… Well, it ends any chance I have of getting a decent shag.”

There’s something I didn’t want to know, Draco mused.

“Hermione, he’s—“

“You know, I don’t think we’ve ever had sex in daylight hours.”

“Maybe you should—“

“Are any of your brothers funny about their partners seeing them naked?”

Please, don’t answer that, Draco begged silently.

“I wouldn’t know.”

Thank Merlin, Draco responded in his head.

“It’s not like he doesn’t let me touch him or— well, you know. He really enjoys that, but I feel like I should be doing it with my eyes closed.”

Draco cringed. Did Granger not realize there was such a thing as too much information? Given Ginny’s uncomfortable responses and the look on her face, he was sure she didn’t want to know this information about her brother’s best friend either.

“Did you make a pot of tea?” Hermione asked.

“No, just the two cups,” Ginny answered. “I have to use the loo, so why don’t you make some more tea? You remember where I keep everything, don’t you?”

“Of course.”

He lay perfectly still as Ginny’s feet approached the door. She closed the bedroom door quietly and then peered around in the darkness.

“Malfoy?”

“Under the bed,” Draco replied.

Ginny illuminated the room with a flick of her wand. “You can come out, but be quiet. Hermione’s in the kitchen.”

Draco carefully moved out from under the bed and lifted himself off the floor. “How long are you going to be?”

“I don’t know. Hermione’s really upset.”

“I’m not too happy either.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t expect—“

“To be hearing about the problems with your friend’s sex life tonight?”

“No.”

“Well, it wasn’t on my agenda either,” Draco snapped.

“Do you want to leave?”

“If you’re not going to come back in here and fuck me, yes! But I fail to see how I’m going to get past Granger without her noticing that you weren’t getting ready to have a shower when she arrived.”

Ginny sighed and looked around her bedroom. “Take my broom. You can fly out the window.”

“Can’t you lift the Anti-Apparition wards?”

“No, only Fred and George can do that.”

“Fuck.”

“Just take the broom, you can return it to me later.”

“Fine,” Draco ground out. “Where are my clothes?”

“Oh, they’re all out there,” Ginny said, looking toward the door leading to the sitting room and kitchen.

“So you expect me to fly out your window, completely naked, on a freezing cold night?”

“I’m sure there’s something—” Ginny cocked her head towards the door. “Shh! Quick in the bathroom.”

They’d just closed the bathroom door behind them when Draco heard the bedroom door open. He didn’t know whether to feel relieved or not. Again, the thought that discovery by another would bring this torture to an end entered his head.

“Ginny, are you all right?”

“Yeah, I’m fine, Hermione,” Ginny called through the bathroom door.

“I was starting to worry, because you’re taking an awfully long time.”

“I—err—just started my period. I’ll be out in a couple of minutes.”

Draco didn’t know where to look or what to think. Again, his poor ears were being burned with too much information.

“Okay, I’ll keep the tea hot.”

“Thanks.”

“That was close,” Ginny whispered.

“Why did you tell her— you know—that?”

“If I didn’t say something she’d have come in here and guess what she’d have found?”

He didn’t like the way she was looking him up and down.

“Oh, you’ve got a dust bunny on your—“

As her hand reached for his groin he slapped it away. The last thing he needed was her touching him again and then leaving him all worked up. He glanced down at his member and discovered that he did have something clinging to it. With a disgusted snarl, he removed the thick ball of dust and hair. “You need to clean under your bed.”

“Don’t you start!”

“I need my clothes and my wand,” Draco said grumpily.

“And I can’t get any of it right now without arousing Hermione’s suspicions. Just rummage through my wardrobe and see if you can get something to cover you. Either come back later or in the morning and I’ll have your wand for you.”

“Nothing of yours is going to fit me and, besides, if Granger sees my wand she’ll know you’ve got a man in here.”

“She won’t see your wand. My place is always a mess, so having clothes laying all over the place is nothing new to her.”

“I don’t believe this,” Draco snarled.

“My broom is beside the wardrobe. Just don’t make too much noise getting out the window.”

“You’re going?”

“If I don’t go back out there she’ll wonder why and come back in,” Ginny explained.

“Fine, go!”

“I’ll see you later or in the morning?”

“I don’t know,” Draco answered sulkily.

“I really am sorry.”

As her hand stretched out to caress his chest, Draco caught it in his hand. “Don’t, I’m in a bad enough state as it is.”

Ginny nodded. “I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah,” Draco mumbled.

“Can you just flush the loo for me?” she asked before opening the door.

“What?”

“I’m supposed to be using the loo… It needs to flush.”

Draco rolled his eyes and turned to push the button on top of the cistern. The whole day had been a debacle and it was all her fault. If she wasn’t so damned good in bed, then he wouldn’t feel as though he needed to have her again. By the time he turned back she was gone. This had to end, because to continue would send him insane. From the bathroom he could hear the muffled conversation coming from the kitchen table and he cursed under his breath before moving over to her wardrobe.

Girlie clothes, he growled to himself as he rifled through her wardrobe.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

AUTHOR’S NOTE

Thanks to Rainpuddle13 for her wonderful beta skills!

5. Way Too Much Information

Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the characters you may recognize from the wonderful world of Harry Potter, they all belong to the revered JK Rowling; I just like to play with them a little.

THE RULES OF ENGAGEMENT

WAY TOO MUCH INFORMATION

He knew he was never going to live this down, but the alternative — flying all the way to Wiltshire dressed in women’s clothes — was out of the question; he’d freeze on her broomstick before he got halfway. Draco took a deep breath and banged on the door. A few minutes passed and he banged again, praying his friend would open the door.

“Who is it?”

“It’s me, let me in,” Draco responded to the voice from within.

“This had better be an emergency.”

“Just hurry up! I’m freezing my balls off out here,” Draco answered as the door swung open.

“What the—“

“Don’t start, Zabini. Just get me some clothes,” Draco snarled as he pushed his way past his friend.

“Did you get busted by someone’s father?” Blaise asked, trying to suppress his laughter.

“Something like that,” Draco ground out. “I need some clothing and a bed.”

“What’s wrong with your place?”

“It’s in Wiltshire,” Draco pointed out dryly. “I only have a small broomstick and it’s fucking cold out.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, mate. We can’t all have big broomsticks,” Blaise teased.

“You’re so funny,” Draco snapped sardonically.

“Seriously, I have company, and you do have a flat in London,” Blaise informed him.

“That has no clothing in it,” Draco reminded him.

“How many times do I have to tell you to stock your wardrobe there?”

“What does that have to do with my current situation?” Draco growled.

“Well, you could be at your place right now, instead of disturbing my night,” Blaise pointed out, sending a quick glance in the direction of the bedroom door.

“Point taken. I apologize for disturbing your evening, but I don’t think I could fly all the way to Wiltshire dressed like this.” Draco waved his hands at his attire. It would have helped the situation a little if Ginny had been any where near his size, but she wasn’t, so he’d been stuck with a selection of women’s clothing that were far too small for him.

“Yeah, that could be a bit uncomfortable,” Blaise conceded. “Look just stay in the spare bedroom, and I’ll sort some clothes out for you for the morning.”

“Thank you.”

“And tomorrow you will tell me all about it,” Blaise ordered with a nefarious smirk.

Draco rolled his eyes and started in the direction of his friend’s spare bedroom. At least he had a warm bed for the night and fresh clothes in the morning. He’d sort out the disaster that was this evening tomorrow, without sharing it with anyone else. The last thing he needed was Blaise analyzing why he was chasing this woman.

“Draco Malfoy, is that a new look for you?”

He froze on the spot and cursed mentally. Each time he thought the night couldn’t possibly get any worse it disappointed him and got much worse. With great reluctance Draco turned around to face the woman leaning in Blaise’s bedroom doorway. She was one of Europe’s top magical models, and she’d been between his sheets on more than one occasion — a friend with benefits, amazing benefits.

“You know that pink cloak really brings out the color in your cheeks,” the model continued.

Draco snarled at the beautiful woman. As far as his social circle was concerned, he was going to have a substantial amount of damage control to do, because she was going to delight in telling everyone about his misadventure. He wouldn’t lower himself to ask her not to tell anyone, because that would probably just encourage her to seek people out now.

“Though I would have gone with a strappy heel rather than the socks,” she continued.

The urge to respond rudely to her amusement was all consuming, but he bit his tongue and continued on his way to the bedroom. Unable to help himself, Draco let some of his frustration out on the door, slamming it hard. He could hear Blaise and the model laughing on the other side of the door, and he growled in anger. It wasn’t that he wouldn’t laugh at Blaise if he were in the same predicament, but to have a woman laughing at him just rubbed him the wrong way.

With little else to do, Draco started stripping off. Weasley’s pretty cloak was discarded easily, but when it came to removing the tee shirt, which would have been baggy on its owner, Draco found it was quite difficult. After struggling to peel the fabric away from his body for several minutes he gave up and with a howl of rage he tore the shirt from the collar to the hem. The sound of hurried footsteps from the living room was followed by the door bursting open and Blaise rushing in.

“Are you all right?”

Draco gazed at his bemused friend with cool indifference. “Fine. I was just getting ready for bed.”

Blaise eyes the scrap of fabric hanging from Draco’s shoulders. “Shirt a bit snug?”

“It was.”

“You’re going to struggle to get your arms out of there.”

“I’ll be fine,” Draco insisted. In truth, he did wonder if he would get his arms out, because his hands were starting to feel a little tingly.

“Turn around. The least I can do is give you a hand,” Blaise ordered.

“I said—” Draco’s words died in his mouth as Blaise turned him around roughly and began to tug the shirt off his arms.

“Say ‘thank you’,” Blaise prompted as he discarded the damaged shirt.

Draco sneered at the dark-haired wizard. “Piss off.”

“You have had a bad night, haven’t you?”

“The worst,” Draco admitted, allowing his shoulders to sag.

“Don’t worry about it, mate. You can tell Uncle Blaise all about it in the morning, and we’ll work out what to do about it then.” Blaise patted Draco’s back condescendingly. “Now do you need help getting those pants off?”

“I’ll manage,” Draco ground out.

“Are you sure? I can’t come back in for at least a few hours once I leave, so you’ll be stuck until I’m through shagging what’s-her-name.”

“I’m sure.” Draco glared at Blaise. “Go and get your shag.”

“Say… You wouldn’t happen to remember what her name is, would you?”

“Just close your eyes and call her Sweetheart.” He couldn’t help himself, even though he knew such a comment would come back to bite him on the arse if Blaise ever found out what he’d been up to tonight.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

When the door closed Draco looked down at himself. The pants he’d managed to force on were stretchy, but the fabric was at its limit and they were at least six inches too short for him. He hooked his fingers into the waistband and tried to maneuver the garment off his body. How he got them on in the first place was a mystery, but then desperation could have played a large role in his determination, because the alternative was a purple elastic banded skirt. What he did realize now, though, was that his balls were aching, and he was becoming anxious to give them some space. However, no matter how hard he tugged Draco couldn’t get the pants to move down even a little. After a few minutes he adjusted his grip and tried pulling apart one of the seams running down the legs, but it was to no avail. Now that he’d noticed his personal discomfort it seemed to be increasing by the second; his balls had gone from aching to throbbing in mere seconds.

Choice seemed to be something he didn’t have the luxury of tonight, so without too much thought Draco opened the bedroom door. He walked across to Blaise’s room and pressed his ear against the door. For a moment he tossed up whether it was worth disturbing his friend, who was obviously very busy right now, but his balls were beginning to feel like they were swelling, so he took a deep breath and hammered on the door.

“What?”

“I—err—Zabini, can you— can you come out here?”

“I told you—“

“I—” Draco let out a long sigh. This was humiliating, but his options were exhausted. “I need help.”

“I’ll be right back,” Blaise said to the woman in the bedroom with him.

Draco stood back from the door, feeling a relieved that his friend didn’t just tell him to bugger off.

“What’s the problem now?” Blaise asked as he opened the door.

“I can’t get them off,” Draco said simply, trying not to look at his friend, who was buck-naked and sporting an erection large enough to make any normal man feel inadequate.

“For fuck’s sake, Malfoy, I offered to—“

“I know, but I thought they’d come off.”

“Hold still,” Blaise instructed as he took hold of the tight pants.

Draco was sure they would have made a curious picture with a naked Blaise kneeling in front of him while trying to pull his pants off.

“What did you do? Paint them on?”

“It was these or a skirt,” Draco snapped.

“You should have gone with the skirt.”

“Have you ever ridden a broom in a skirt?”

“I’m not into cross-dressing,” Blaise reminded him.

“Yeah, you would have just gone naked,” Draco answered sourly; half wishing he’d have not bothered with covering up, despite the cold.

“I’ll just get my wand,” Blaise said as he stood up.

“What for?”

“I’ll sever the—“

“You’re not putting your wand anywhere near me.”

“I’ll get a knife then.”

“If you cut me—“

“You can kill me after you thank me for saving your dick,” Blaise finished as he walked to the kitchen. “It’s got to be going blue by now.”

“Could you find a bigger knife?” Draco asked, eying the long blade dubiously.

“No point toying with something not big enough to do the job,” Blaise commented off-handedly. “Now hold still or you’ll lose more than the girlie pants.”

“Just be—be careful,” Draco uttered nervously.

Blaise rolled his eyes as he slid the knife between the fabric and his friend’s skin. “I’m not going to cut you… The whining would be more than I could tolerate.”

Draco wanted to respond, just to show that he wasn’t afraid, but the feel of the cold blade on his skin had paralyzed him. When he could feel the pants starting to loosen he felt a sliver of relief.

“You should be able to get them off now,” Blaise said as he withdrew the knife.

“Thanks,” Draco muttered.

“Well? Get them off. I’m not coming out again.”

“Fine,” Draco grumbled. Even though he was sure they’d come off now, he didn’t argue the point, because if they didn’t it would utterly humiliate him to have to call upon Blaise’s help again.

“You were in a hurry,” Blaise noted.

“My clothes were in the sitting room,” Draco responded as he gathered the ruined pants to his groin. “I couldn’t get to them.”

Blaise chuckled. “What did you do? Climb out the window?”

“Flew actually,” Draco admitted, looking over to the broom standing in the corner near the front door. “That’s her broomstick.”

“I hope she’s worth it,” Blaise said as he returned to his own room and his model.

Draco sighed heavily as he stared at the door that had just closed. It was a pertinent question: was she worth the trouble? He could think of no other way to phrase it, because he’d had nothing but trouble since he began this foolish pursuit. He’d promised himself several times that he would end it and there was a list a mile long supporting the decision, but every time he began to examine it too closely his mind wandered back to the one night they had spent together, and he decided that she was worth it, if only they could get to shag again.

His head had begun to hurt a while ago, so he returned to the bedroom, resigned to spending the evening alone. The pants ended up in the corner of the room, a shredded mess of fabric that he regretted ever laying eyes on. Draco dropped onto the bed with a grunt. Life as he knew it — the one where he was in control — had ceased to exist all because of one redheaded woman who he’d been raised to despise. Just as he was pondering how to turn this mess around, and get the shag he knew he was now entitled to, so he could get on with life as he knew it, an odd sound filtered through the walls.

Draco frowned and sat up. It sounded like someone was in pain. Then a string of moaned expletives entered the room, punctuated by the occasional ‘oh yeah’ or ‘oh, baby’ and he realized just what he was listening to. With a snarl of disgust he threw himself back onto the mattress and drew the pillow over his head. This was some sort of bizarre torture. He’d been worked up twice this evening and now there was no chance of relief in his preferred manner, yet he was being subjected to hearing others perform the deed — life was, indeed, not fair at the moment.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The sun had hardly begun to spread light over the city when Draco tiptoed out of the spare room in Blaise’s flat. Much of the night was spent in a restless space somewhere between sleep and wakefulness. She kept haunting his thoughts, but it wasn’t all about the sex this time. Her smile and twinkling brown eyes had been prominent features in his dreams; even her frown had made an appearance once or twice. There was something different about this witch. Different from any other witch he’d ever come across; she provoked thought and he didn’t know if that was a good thing or not.

He’d wrapped a sheet around himself, for protection, before entering his friend’s bedroom to rummage through his closet for something appropriate to wear. After locating some charcoal gray robes and a fresh pair of boxers, he left the room and the two sleeping bodies within. Shoes would have to wait, because Blaise was a full size smaller than he. When he’d dressed, Draco collected Ginny’s clothes and broomstick, then Flooed to Diagon Alley.

At this early hour he didn’t expect there would be many people in the shopping district, but there were some shopkeepers getting ready for another day of business. The moment his skin touched the cobblestone road he lamented not putting his socks on; the street was freezing. For the benefit of the few people in the street, Draco walked as normally as he could to the narrow laneway beside Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes, hoping that his bare feet would go unnoticed.

Without pausing to take the consequences into consideration, Draco hammered on the door as hard as he could. After a minute or so he hammered again, eager to get out of the freezing cold. Perhaps she wouldn’t be opposed to a little pre-breakfast activity to get his blood flowing again? He was just thinking it would be worth broaching the subject when he heard a faint noise, like a door closing, from inside the building.

“All right! I’m coming,” a voice from inside yelled. “No need to knock the door down.”

Terror infiltrated his body like a deadly disease. He hadn’t considered that she might not be alone at this hour. The sound of heavy footsteps behind the door urged his feet into action. A quick glance towards Diagon Alley and he realized that he didn’t have enough time to make it to the end and safely out of sight. He looked to the other end, which was closer, but crowded with filthy looking rubbish bins. There was no choice; he had to seek cover.

At the very last minute Draco squeezed himself between two rubbish bins and dropped to the ground. His senses were immediately assaulted with the smell of rotting garbage, making him want to heave. From his position he watched the door open and a head of short red hair appear.

“Anyone out here?”

Draco held his breath.

“Hello?”

The head in the doorway turned in his direction. It was one of the Weasley twins. Draco wished the man back into the building before he gave into the urge to vomit. His mouth was beginning to water and he could feel acid snaking its way up from his stomach. Bile was beginning to burn the back of his throat and try as he might, he couldn’t manage to swallow the foul body fluid. He put his head down and tried to concentrate on breathing, which he realized was a mistake of immense proportions the moment he took his first deep breath.

Just as the door to the building slammed closed, Draco’s stomach rebelled in a violent manner. He had to escape the smell from both the bins and his stomach contents or he feared he wouldn’t stop. Again, he was covered with muck as he rose to his feet. His nose wrinkled in disgust at the sight of Blaise’s robes. House elves were good, but he doubted if they’d be able to do much to eradicate the smell his clothing was now emanating. Somehow he had a feeling he’d be taking his friend shopping very soon, because he knew Blaise wouldn’t be pleased when he saw some of his best robes in such a state.

Unable to risk seeing Weasley right now, Draco walked back into Diagon Alley. He was careful not to cross in front of the store windows, just in case one of her brothers was in the shop. After such a near miss it would be a shame to get caught now. However, he did have another problem: she still had his belongings. This meant he had no wand, no money, and no way of getting home, except for her broomstick, but it was daylight, so flying over London was going to be frowned upon by the Ministry.

He was wandering aimlessly, hoping not to draw any attention to his state, as he tried to figure out what to do. Most people he came across gave him a wide berth, not that he could blame them; he’d give himself a wide berth too, if he could.

After several minutes he found himself standing outside the offices of the family company. Without his wand he was unable to enter, until someone else broke the wards, so all he could do was wait for the first arrival. Not wanting to be seen in his current condition, Draco crossed the street and sat down next to a wall that cast a dark shadow. He hoped it would give him enough cover until he could enter the building. Before long his backside began to lose feeling and his back started to ache as the icy cold crept up his spine.

By the time someone approached the front doors of the building Draco was visibly shaking. He didn’t know whether to be relieved or not when he saw his father was the first to arrive. Still, he was desperate to feel his extremities again, so he stood up as fast as his stiff body would allow and tried to walk in a dignified manner to the door. Lucius had entered the building before Draco had managed to get to his feet, so he was fairly confident he wouldn’t run into him on the way to his office.

As the door closed behind him, banishing the freezing air to the outdoors, Draco released a sigh of relief. Warmth was rushing over him, making his skin sting a little, but it didn’t take away the relief he felt at being out of the elements again.

“Draco?”

Startled, Draco jumped noticeably. “Father, I didn’t see you there.”

“What happened to you?” Lucius asked, ignoring Draco’s statement.

“Things didn’t quite go to plan last night.” Draco prayed his father didn’t ask for details.

“I see,” Lucius drawled. “This woman you’re seeing… She’s not someone your mother would be disappointed in, is she?”

To look at him, Draco’s face held a stoical expression, but on the inside his emotions were raging. It was a loaded question, and if he got just one syllable of his answer wrong his father would be demanding to know the entire truth — a truth that wouldn’t go down too well. “She’s a pureblood from a good family,” he answered evasively.

Curiosity crossed Lucius’ features. “Women — I presume she’s a woman and not a girl — from good families aren’t prone to hiding under tables and doing immoral things to their dates,” he pointed out shrewdly.

“You’ve been out of the single social scene from quite some time, Father. Things have changed.”

“Not that much,” Lucius declared dangerously.

“If it escaped your attention, that restaurant is not one I would usually patronize. We wanted some privacy while we sorted out just what kind of relationship we have,” Draco lied, but then his mind grasped the idea and his thoughts were again turned to why he was behaving in such a manner with this woman.

“Relationship?”

Draco rolled his eyes. His patience and excuses starting to wear thin. “Whether it’s just physical or if we actually know how to talk to each other.”

“You don’t talk to your— your lady friends before inviting them into your bed?”

A nonchalant shrug moved his shoulders. “Not usually. If you start them talking sometimes they don’t shut up.”

“If your mother—“

“Yes, I know.” Draco sighed for effect. “If Mother ever found out what a whore I am she’d be devastated, and I’d never hear the end of it.”

Lucius inclined his head to agree. “I suggest you—“

“Do what I was trying to do last night?” Draco posed, cutting his father off. “Trying to protect Mother from the knowledge.”

“Yes,” Lucius answered dryly.

“Right, well… If we’re finished here I’m going up to my office to clean up before I Floo home to get some fresh clothes,” Draco announced. He desperately needed to escape before he tripped on his own untruths and his father’s keen senses were alerted.

“Don’t forget some shoes,” Lucius reminded him with a meaningful glance at his bare feet.

Draco answered his father’s taunt with a derisive glare. There was no way he could possibly forget about his feet, because his toes were so numb that they were painful. He climbed the stairs as quickly as he could, though it wasn’t anywhere near as fast as he would have normally. As he went he formulated a plan of attack for everything he needed to achieve.

First he would clean himself up as best he could, then Floo home, and hopefully not run into his mother or he’d be stuck there answering questions all day. He’d shower and change, and then return to the office by Floo, where he’d send an owl to Weasley requesting her presence somewhere to exchange property at lunchtime. All he had to do was think of some place they could meet where they wouldn’t be seen by anyone who knew either of them. In the meantime, he was going to do his utmost to convince himself to give up the chase for another shag from the woman, because he was going to find himself in St. Mungo’s if this nonsense continued. There was only one problem: every time he thought about her his groin stirred, letting him know that it would be far easier to cut his dick off than give her up without a fight.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

AUTHOR’S NOTE

Thanks to Rainpuddle13 for her wonderful beta skills!

6. A Question of Sanity

Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the characters you may recognize from the wonderful world of Harry Potter, they all belong to the revered JK Rowling; I just like to play with them a little.

THE RULES OF ENGAGEMENT

A QUESTION OF SANITY

It had taken him over an hour at home to get cleaned up and escape his mother. When he found out which house elf tattled on him he was going to punish it severely. Clothes might even be threatened if the creature wasn’t satisfactorily repentant. Then, to top the morning off, his father had been waiting for him when he returned. Lucius was, evidently, not happy that he’d taken so long, and then Draco had made his mood darken further by informing his father that it was his mother who had held him up for so long, which meant Lucius was sure to hear all about whatever tales he’d told Narcissa.

He leaned back in his chair as he added the final flourish to the short missive he’d prepared for Weasley. Not wanting to chance any gossip, Draco summoned his own owl, rather than having his secretary take care of the correspondence. The majestic bird flew into his office and perched on the corner of his desk. He stroked it absently, while he read over what he’d written.

Miss Weasley,

I require the return of my personal belongings as soon as possible, and I would like to return yours. To protect both of us from detection by others, may I suggest we meet at midday in the same place we ran into each other last week?

Your response by return would be most appreciated.

Regards,

DM

Satisfied that it wasn’t too personal, in case it fell into the wrong hands, he attached it to his owl’s leg, gave it instructions to await a reply, and then sent it off to the Ministry, because she would most definitely be at work by now.

While he waited, he reached for his in tray for the day’s incoming correspondence to see if anything that might require his attention. Five minutes later he realized he was still staring at the top piece of parchment, with nothing on his mind, except Weasley and what he wanted to do to her. Draco scrubbed his face with his hands. All he could think about was her and, just to make matters worse, his stomach felt odd, though he put that down to having not eaten breakfast.

He summoned his secretary and instructed her to get him a cup of strong coffee, along with some food of any description. Perhaps if he could settle his stomach he’d be able to concentrate a little better. When she left the room to follow his orders, he leaned back in his chair again and tried to work out what was wrong with him. Even when he’d previously been unsuccessful in securing a shag from a date, he’d not been left so preoccupied with his original target, and this obsession had been going on for weeks, if he were to be completely honest. This wasn’t the way he did things. He was a playboy, for Merlin’s sake. Shag them and leave them wanting was his motto. Draco even tried to convince himself that she wasn’t that good in bed, but it was a moot point: it was the very reason he had started this pursuit in the first place. She had done things to him that he’d never imagined could be done and made him feel like the world would shatter if she dared to continue, yet at the same time he’d felt like he’d die if she stopped. It was definitely something he wanted to experience again.

His secretary returned and placed the tray he’d ordered on the corner of his desk. He barely muttered a ‘thank you’, while appearing absorbed in a piece of correspondence, and she left the room. The smell of fresh coffee invaded the office and taunted his nostrils within seconds of the door closing, and Draco greedily gulped at the steaming liquid. Next to the coffee pot was a plate of crumpets dripping with butter. With his stomach now demanding attention, he pushed aside the correspondence and brought the tray to sit before him. After he’d eaten his fill he’d consider doing some work.

“Hungry?” Lucius questioned as he entered Draco’s private office without invitation.

“I didn’t have breakfast,” Draco responded around a mouthful of crumpet.

“Perhaps you could make an effort to take care of your personal requirements before the start of office hours in the future,” Lucius suggested acerbically.

“I usually do,” Draco retorted. “Was there something you wanted?”

“There was,” Lucius drawled evasively.

“Well?”

“I just had a Floo call from your mother.”

“Bloody brilliant,” Draco mumbled.

“It seems she quite concerned for your welfare.”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Tell her I’m fine.”

“I did, but she doesn’t believe me for some reason.”

“What does she want?” Draco asked as his owl flew into his office and perched on the desk.

“Unburden your bird and we’ll talk further,” Lucius advised.

Every fiber in his body wanted to argue the point. To be told what to do and when to do it irked him in ways his father didn’t seem to understand or if he did, he delighted in vexing Draco. Still, he unburdened his owl right away, as it was pointless to argue about such a thing. Besides, he knew who the missive was from, and he was eager for her response. With one wary eye on his father, Draco unfurled the parchment.

Mr. Malfoy,

I regret to inform you that I am unable to meet you where you suggested. Unfortunately, I am rather busy at work today and will be unable to leave the Ministry. If you are desperate for the return of your possessions, which I have with me, I suggest you be at the Visitors’ Entrance of the Ministry at midday with some lunch for me, as I will be using what little time I have to get something to eat talking to you. If you are worried about detection you needn’t be, because that entrance is rarely used.

Miss Weasley

Draco snarled audibly and screwed up the parchment. A public meeting was not what he wanted. It meant he’d be unable to touch her. At least in Flourish and Blotts the top floor was usually quite deserted, so the chance of detection while doing things of a questionable nature in a public place was negligible.

“Not what you were expecting?” Lucius questioned.

“She’s not having lunch today,” Draco blurted, his frustration getting the better of him.

“Is that a problem?”

“She has my wand!”

“You left your wand in another’s possession?” Lucius asked sternly.

“I didn’t have a choice. It was either leave it behind or be seen by someone who wouldn’t have understood and who could have told others, who would have killed me,” Draco explained gruffly. He was kicking himself for his loss of self-control. After all, there were certain things parents, especially his father, didn’t need to know.

“I see,” Lucius drawled. “If that is the case, then don’t you think it’s best not to see this woman again?”

“I need to get my wand back,” Draco ground out.

“And after that?”

Draco sighed heavily. He knew what he had to do for his own self preservation, no matter how good she was or how much he wanted her. “I intend to tell her that whatever it is we share is not worth the drama or possible pain.”

“Good.” Lucius nodded seriously. “Sometimes it is the only choice.”

An unintelligible snarl escaped Draco’s throat. It wasn’t the only choice; it was the safe choice. While that was usually the way he leaned, he simply didn’t want to give her up yet, despite knowing how dangerous the pursuit could turn. Still, no woman was worth putting himself in mortal danger. He would tell her when they exchanged possessions at midday. Perhaps the knowledge that his father knew would make the words easier to utter when the time came.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Draco had lost count of the number of times he’d questioned his own sanity over the past twenty-four hours, but it was happening again. He was standing in a dingy side street, with her broomstick in one hand and her lunch in the other. She seemed to be right about not being detected here, because the surrounding buildings looked almost uninhabited and he would have been confident in that thought, except for the movement of a Muggle leaving one doorway and entering another, which smelled like it could have been a pub. To make matters worse, it was snowing lightly and he had no protection charms to stop his clothes from absorbing the wet, sticky snow. Had he thought ahead, he could have asked his father to cast them for him, but then that would have been admitting weakness; not that it would help him if he got sick, which was becoming a real possibility considering how many times he’d been either wet or freezing in the last twenty-four hours. Of course, if he did succumb to the elements, and ended up with influenza, his mother would then hear all about his exploits and his pain would really begin.

Upon checking his pocket watch Draco noted that she was already five minutes late. He was growing irritable, not that it was an entirely bad thing, because it would help him to tell her that it was over, whatever it was exactly. The Muggle telephone box suddenly started to move. At first he though it was a trick of the light, but then realized that it was really moving and another interior of the telephone box was sliding into position, but this new one held a passenger.

Draco held his breath as she came into view. The combination of the cold and the lack of oxygen to his brain seemed to erase all his thoughts. All he could visualize was slamming her up against the graffiti covered wall and having his way with her, while she howled his name into the wind over and again.

“Malfoy?”

He jumped, startled from his daydream. “Weasley.”

“Are you all right?”

“Aside from freezing to death to deliver your lunch, I’m just splendid.”

“My lunch for your wand,” she pointed out, slipping his wand into his cloak.

“Yes, of course,” Draco agreed tightly. He wished she hadn’t touched him, because now it felt like all the blood in his body was thundering towards his groin, and he was having a hard time focusing on the purpose of their meeting.

“So what did you bring me?”

His ears had to be betraying him. How could such an innocent question sound so provocative? He knew she was asking about her lunch, but his mind raced down a very wicked path before he could stop it. Draco stepped towards her unconsciously. His dick twitched when her little pink tongue flicked out to drive the dryness from her lips. There was nothing he could do to control himself. With one swift move he’d pinned her against the wall and covered her delectable mouth with his. Her lunch and broomstick fell to the snowy ground, forgotten for the time being.

The fact that her fingers tangled in his hair and held him to her only encouraged him more. It was obvious that she wanted him as much as he wanted her. He forced his tongue into her mouth, deepening their union without so much as hinting at requesting permission. All he wanted to do was feel her naked form against his; to feel the hardened peaks of her breasts against his chest, and to graze his tongue over the their tops and make her groan with abandon. Even more, he wanted to release his aching erection and let it slide into her silken depths and afterwards, lay with her in his arms until they’d recovered enough to start again.

Alarm bells should have been sounding in his head at that last thought. Draco never cuddled. It was a rule he held firm with all women, no matter where they factored in his life. The thought, though, only sent his stomach through a series of flip-flops, which made him feel pleasantly warm despite the frosty air surrounding them.

“I can’t,” she panted, turning her head away from him. “Work… We’re so busy.”

“Weasley, you can’t keep running—“

“I’m not, believe me, but I can’t risk losing my job for a quick shag.”

“We could make it a long one,” Draco suggested as he nibbled her earlobe. “Or we could make it several. I’m not fussy.”

She stepped to the side and placed some distance between them. “I have to get back to work.”

“When am I going to see you then?” Draco cringed mentally when he heard the whine in his tone. It sounded like he was begging for attention.

“Tonight?”

“My flat,” Draco said, his spirits lifting a little. “We won’t be disturbed there.”

“Good, because if I don’t get some satisfaction soon I’m going to have to take matters into my own hands,” she whispered into his ear as one of her hands ran suggestively over his throbbing member.

If words were forming in his brain, Draco was totally unaware. Images of what she suggested had invaded his mind, making their surroundings melt away only to be replaced with a delightful vision. He could picture her lying naked on his bed, her legs spread and her hands dancing around her parts as her head lolled back in ecstasy. It was only when she had gone that he realized she’d picked up her broomstick and lunch at some point.

A wicked smirk crept across Draco’s features. Tonight he was going to shag her until the sun rose.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

How had he been reduced to this? It was the question that plagued him from time to time, though mostly when he was crammed into some dark, disgusting spot — like now — trying to avoid detection by whomever had stumbled upon them trying to get a moments peace or rather a few minutes snogging done to see where it led if they had time.

They’d tried everything to be alone long enough to shag, but someone or something was against them. Even at his London flat the evening after she’d returned his wand, Pansy had turned up with a broken nail or relationship or something. All he could really remember was there were a lot of tears and Ginny was locked in the bedroom, and he was not getting the shag he desperately craved. When he’d finally convinced Pansy that the end of the world had not come and had sent her on her way, Weasley had long since Disapparated.

In the weeks that followed he’d found himself stuffed into a broom closet at the Ministry, under a table at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor where the knee of his pants once again absorbed some mysterious mess, shoved into a broom rack at Quality Quidditch Supplies and a number of other equally disgusting places that had traumatized him to the point of having nightmares. If he didn’t know better, he’d swear family and friends, alike, were following them.

If his frustration wasn’t enough to deal with, his friends had grown suspicious, and Blaise had even questioned him about his recent lack of social activity. Of course, Draco lied when he told him he was seeing a famous model, who didn’t want to end up in the tabloids, and his ‘social needs’ were being well taken care of — he wished even half of that were true, particularly the latter half. Due to their inability to actually copulate without some form of interruption he’d had to resort to taking care of himself several times or risk exploding at some inopportune moment like some foolish schoolboy who hadn’t yet gained control of his urges.

The notion that they were cursed and were never again going to experience the pleasure of one another’s flesh had crossed his mind several times. Perhaps it was a long-standing curse? Maybe that was why their families hated each other? Still, it didn’t explain why their first night together was so spectacular, nor dampen his enthusiasm to repeat the performance.

Draco chanced a peek at the yard from his position in the chicken coop. When she’d told him she had a family function to attend at The Burrow today he’d almost lost his temper. He had planned to whisk her away to the south of France for a weekend of undisturbed shagging, seeing as they couldn’t quite accomplish the task on British soil, but she insisted that she had to attend this family nonsense.

Her apologies had, surprisingly, softened him, and he’d agreed to meet her at her family home, so they might have a chance at escaping at some point for a quick shag. She’d given him directions to the broom shed, but he’d been unable to make it all the way across the yard before someone walked out of the house, and he’d been forced to take refuge with the chickens out of sheer terror. One glance at his Italian dragon hide shoes made him cringe. They were covered with chicken shit and, as far as he could determine, only good for the rubbish now.

Again, he tried to tell himself that she wasn’t worth it, but then her laughter floated over on the wind and his stomach did that odd flip-flop thing that made him think he was coming down with something. It seemed to happen often now, and he was baffled as to why, and what the connection to the redhead was exactly. Draco knew he’d wait, no matter long it took her to be through with her family obligations.

However, if they weren’t successful in enjoying each other’s company this evening he’d have to consider the drastic measures that had been haunting his thoughts. It was an idea that had crept into his mind last week sometime when he was hiding in an enormous cauldron outside the cauldron shop in Diagon Alley when one of her brothers had turned up to harass the owner of the store about the thickness of the bottom of his cauldrons.

Although, promising ‘until death do you part’ was a little over the top just to secure a shag, in his opinion, and that was his primary objective, at least it was to begin with. The most worrisome part of that particular plan was that it didn’t scare him at all. In the past, when his mother had dared to mention his advancing years and her desire to be a grandmother, he been terrified at the thought of committing himself to just one woman. He’d always argued that he was too young and hadn’t yet met ‘the one’.

The mere idea that she could be ‘the one’ should have sent him running in the other direction as fast as his legs could carry him, but strangely enough all it did was bring a soft smile to his face and an odd feeling of contentment. Draco had tried to imagine his future without the presence of Weasley, and although he could see himself continuing to notch up a number of women on his bedpost, he drew no satisfaction from the vision. He always felt a little empty after thinking along those lines, so he stopped trying to pretend that he could just toss her out of his life — at least not while he was still chasing that elusive shag. After that, who knew? The answer to that question remained deep inside his conscience, only reminding him softly that he knew the truth and would eventually have to act accordingly.

Were his years as a philanderer coming to an end? Could he possibly restrict himself to the attentions of one woman? The fact that he had in the past weeks, and with not much success on the attention side either, hadn’t escaped his attention. Somehow, Weasley had completely blinded him to other women. Draco tried to think of any one thing she’d done or demanded to bring this about, but failed to come up with a single example to prove that this was her fault. He cringed as he realized the blame for his behavior lay solely at his feet. In retrospect, he could identify where he went wrong quite easily, but knowing that now did nothing to erase where his feelings for the woman had traveled.

Of course, this newest plan was a concept that was fraught with problems, like the fact that they’d have to expose themselves to the very people they’d been trying to avoid, and whether he’d survive once her family found out was another matter entirely. His stomach, once again, felt like a swarm of Snitches were flying at a furious pace, as it always did when his thoughts traveled along this road. For the time being he would wait and try to work out what all these odd feelings in his stomach meant. After all, the last thing he needed was to get sick when they finally found themselves alone long enough to shag. Perhaps when he’d had her again these odd feelings would fade and he would be free to continue his playboy lifestyle? Though a nagging feeling deep inside him shed doubt over that idea immediately.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

AUTHOR’S NOTE

Thanks to Rainpuddle13 for her wonderful beta skills!

7. Epilogue

Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the characters you may recognize from the wonderful world of Harry Potter, they all belong to the revered JK Rowling; I just like to play with them a little.

THE RULES OF ENGAGEMENT

EPILOGUE

Draco ran his hands through his hair in frustration and barely contained fury as he listened to the horrified shrieks echoing through the suite from the bathroom. It was official. His life had gone to hell on a broomstick. No, that wasn’t quite right, because it had happened so much faster than that. His life had Portkeyed directly to Hades. Not that any of that mattered now, because if there was a way to salvage this situation he didn’t know how. The romantic, erotic mood they’d been enjoying only moments ago had been shattered beyond all repair.

Thwarted again.

The worst part of this state of affairs was probably how unsurprised he felt. After all, this happened all the time. Since that first time he’d bedded the very naughty Miss Weasley before Christmas, he’d been unsuccessful in his bid to enjoy her talents again, and he was beginning to think it might never happen again, despite today’s festivities.

In fact, if he wasn’t living this ludicrous situation he wouldn’t believe it. No one had as much trouble as he did, of that he was sure. Of course, the question of how they had managed this remained unanswered, but Draco knew they were a resourceful lot, so nothing was impossible. They were, of course, their malevolent families and friends. Undeniable experts in the art of disturbance and crushing the desires of the two people they claimed to care about.

A snarl escaped his throat as he stared at the mess on the bed. Sheets and blankets were twisted in every direction, as if there had been an almighty battle waged right there on the mattress. He still looked the part, standing before the enormous bed with his shirt opened all the way to reveal a light trail of blond floss disappearing beneath his belt, the dim lighting reflecting off his heaving chest, and his pants straining just slightly at the groin, but the flush in his cheeks couldn’t be attributed to excitement or arousal; it was due to the simmering rage he was trying to control.

His eyes flicked to the bathroom door. It still sounded like someone was slaughtering a banshee in there, and while he thought he should probably check on her, the knowledge that she was less than decent stilled his feet. Somehow he didn’t think he could stop himself from touching her — from demanding what he’d craved for so long — and she clearly was not in the mood at the moment.

Draco pressed his palms to his eyes and sighed heavily. This morning everything had looked so positive. There was no way he wasn’t going to get his heart’s desire tonight. After all, it was tradition — expected, some would say. How wrong he’d been. Now he didn’t know when he was going to get the relief he so desperately needed. Even thinking that after they’d cleaned up or changed location wasn’t enough to get his hopes up, because something else was bound to happen, just as it always did.

He had even taunted her brothers at every opportunity this afternoon and earlier this evening. Well, to be truthful, it wasn’t all of her brothers, because there were a couple who downright scared him to death, but Ron certainly knew what was on his entertainment schedule for tonight. Ron… It was what he had to call him now, because Ginny got upset when he called him Weasel. Of course, it didn’t matter that Weasel called him Ferret, because that was all in fun, apparently.

What had happened to him? Draco’s head met one of the rear posts on the bed with a hollow thump. How had the desire for a simple shag led him to be standing where he was now? It was a question that had plagued him for months, but it was one that he had failed to find an intelligent answer to, as of yet.

Six months ago life was simple, although he failed to realize it then. He was pursuing a beautiful woman with just one thing on his mind: bedding her for a second time. Six months. It was a relatively short period of time to some, but to Draco it seemed like a lifetime.

The fact that he’d never given up the chase for the most elusive shag on the planet had nothing at all to do with it. At least that’s what he tried to tell himself, but the truth had a nasty way of making its presence felt, and Draco knew, deep down, that his pursuit of Ginevra Weasley had fast become more about the intriguing woman she is, than what she could offer him in the bedroom, though that was still a major motivating factor. Over time he’d discovered that she was not only an attractive woman who was, from memory, good in the bedroom, but that she was also witty, intelligent and her company was enjoyable. Somewhere over the months of his less than healthy obsession with the flame-haired witch he’d fallen decidedly in love, not that he’d openly admit to such a thing.

This knowledge had come as more of a shock to himself than anyone else. He still remembered the fatal day six months ago. The day he finally realized why it felt like he had a swarm of kamikaze Snitches in his stomach every time he thought of her. To his surprise, it wasn’t because he was coming down with some malady that might see him bedridden for a month.

He supposed he only had himself to blame for turning up when she wasn’t expecting him, but that didn’t sit too comfortably with the blond aristocrat. It made far more sense to push the blame onto his best friend: Blaise Zabini. If he hadn’t posed that ridiculous dare then Draco wouldn’t have been driven insane with his desire for one woman, he wouldn’t have broken his own rules, and he most certainly wouldn’t be standing in a hotel room right now. No, he would most likely be getting drunk at some bar or party, deciding which lucky witch was going to be invited to scream his name in ecstasy until the sun rose on tomorrow.

They’d continued coveting each other’s company and always met under clandestine conditions, despite the fact that nothing untoward had a chance of happening, considering they were always interrupted before the main event. Draco had come to believe that, even though no one knew of their meetings, their families and friends had formed a conspiracy to drive him insane with deprivation, because that was what was happening. He hadn’t sought out the attentions of another woman since he’d run into her in Flourish and Blotts that day so long ago. Both knew if their friends or family found out about their little liaisons they wouldn’t be able to continue, or at least that was their fear at the time.

On the day he realized what his obsession meant, he’d been waiting for her in the shadowy entrance of the alley that led to her flat just off Diagon Alley. She hadn’t known he would be there, and what he witnessed sent his world into disarray. It made Draco’s head ache just to think about it now.

He could see her walking down the cobblestone street from quite a distance and he’d felt his stomach start to knot, as it did whenever he thought about her. Then he saw her laugh and his eyes charged to either side of her. There was another man walking with his Weasley. The man was making her laugh as though she were enjoying his company. A surge of rage flowed through Draco’s body, and then, just to incense him a little more, the man touched his Weasley’s arm. It was enough to make him seriously consider murder.

They passed him without noticing he was hiding in a dark shadow of the alley, and he saw them enter Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes. Her laughter floated on the breeze to envelop him in a cocoon of light tinkling sound. Fury rose through his system to voice itself as a deep animalistic snarl. With that he left his hidden location and went directly to Gringotts. No thought was put into his actions; he was simply acting on impulse — a move to secure his Weasley, so no other man could ever touch her. He was like a man possessed. From that point on he’d make certain she knew where he stood and what he expected of her — no entertaining other men for starters.

It wasn’t until after he’d dirtied his knee and slid a diamond ring large enough to require its own Apparition license onto her finger that he’d discovered the identity of the other man — the one who’d made her laugh and then touched her. He, Oliver Wood, was simply a friend of her twin brothers, and it was purely coincidence that she’d come across him on his way to visit them at their business premises. Not that it changed his mind in any way, because just the thought of another paying her the kind of attention he wanted to made him see red, and there was only one effective way he could put a stop to any future actions that might have him considering cold-blooded murder.

Of course, then they had to tell their families, which turned out to be far more torturous than Draco had ever imagined. To say everyone had taken the news badly was an understatement of mammoth proportions. The fact that oxygen still graced his body was something of a miracle, in his opinion.

She had dragged him to a family lunch, claiming it would be easier to tell them all at once, and with everyone in attendance there would be loads of witnesses, so no one would dare to do anything. In theory, it had sounded like a good plan, but Ginny had failed to recognize the fact that all the witnesses would stick together; no matter how badly they tortured him. Death threats had been delivered without concern for might hear and Draco discovered that the Weasley men were very creative when it came to tormenting someone they considered an enemy. An hour after arriving at this soirée he was imagining his pulverized body laying in a shallow unmarked grave in some nondescript location. It was only the knowledge that he couldn’t outrun all of them that kept him there until Ginny deemed it was time to leave.

His parents had reacted in much the same manner as the Weasleys, although in a more civilized manner. Of course, that only held true if thinking death threats rather than voicing them counted, because Lucius’ thoughts were most definitely not on welcoming Ginny to the family. Draco feared his father was simply considering his options; after all, coming up with the most absolute means of disposing of this situation before acting would have been important to him. It was after he had escorted Ginny home that the real torture had begun; Draco had been summoned to his father’s study where Lucius had interrogated him mercilessly for hours. In that time, Draco had admitted that the woman under the table in the restaurant that Lucius hadn’t quite seen was, indeed, Ginny. While it provided a history, Draco was sure it wasn’t the type of history his father had been digging for, because women of class did not act in that manner, according to Lucius.

Once everyone had recovered from their shock announcement, and the wedding plans were underway, their families seemed to set about deliberately trying to keep the pair apart. No matter what Draco tried, he didn’t seem to be able to get more than ten minutes or so alone with his fiancée. Even when they did get a few moments alone it often ended with one of her idiot brothers disturbing them, and then reiterating the very graphic death threats they’d issued the moment they discovered their baby sister was getting married. It had gotten so bad that he’d even mentioned to Ginny that he thought everyone had worked out some sort of timetable, so they would never be alone. Of course, she had scoffed at his notion.

The lowest point had come just a month ago when Molly Weasley had caught them in her pantry. He’d tried to convince the irate witch that his hand was simply chasing a spider up her daughter’s skirt, but it was to no avail. Draco had been forced to endure a fifteen minute rant on what not to do before one got married, before being forced back into the yard, feeling utterly humiliated with a very sore ear — the woman was a very good shot with her wand and she didn’t need magic to make someone hurt.

As if the threats and physical assaults weren’t enough, every time Draco was in the proximity of her family he wasn’t allowed to eat or drink anything. It didn’t matter where they were, if he tried to partake of some form of sustenance Ginny would remove whatever it was from his hand before he could manage to get it to his mouth and scowl in the direction of her twin brothers, who were usually grinning at him in a rather frightening manner. She had warned him not to accept anything from them, but he thought she was taking things a bit far when he couldn’t even eat from a buffet or accept an obviously sealed bottle of booze.

Draco’s mind turned back to the present when he realized that all had gone quiet. The caterwauling that had been coming from the bathroom had ceased. Reasons why everything was suddenly silent ran through his head: perhaps she had drowned under the shower… maybe she had lost her voice… could she have calmed down? He hoped with every fiber in his being that it was the latter, because calm was good in his world.

With great trepidation Draco crossed to the bathroom and rested his ear against the door. All he could hear was the spray of the shower. He opened the door carefully. “Are you all right now?”

“I’m going to kill them and you’re not going to stop me,” Ginny growled.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Draco responded with a hint of amusement.

“Then why are you looking at me like that?”

“Oh, I was just wondering if you’d let me help,” Draco replied casually, trying not to smirk. “Or, failing that, let me watch.”

“You can have what’s left,” Ginny snarled.

Draco’s eyebrows quirked at the vision her words had produced. There wouldn’t be anything left him if she got within hexing distance of whoever was responsible for this little prank. Although her expression was harsh, he knew she wasn’t angry with him personally, just the situation and the thoughtless actions of her brothers, so with that in mind, Draco advanced slowly. Perhaps there was a chance to salvage just a little of their evening. He reached out tentatively, and then whispered, “You have a Flobberworm caught in your hair.”

Ginny groaned. “I thought I’d got them all out.”

“Stand still and I’ll have a look,” Draco encouraged as he plucked the squishy brown mass from her hair. He tried not to look too closely at what the water was rinsing from his fingers, because he was likely to lose his stomach if he spent any time thinking about it.

After a few minutes of careful examination, and plucking of some incredibly revolting things from her hair, Draco picked up the bottle of shampoo from the floor of the shower stall and squirted a generous amount into Ginny’s hair.

“I’ve already done that twice,” Ginny told him.

“You missed some, so we’ll do it again,” Draco whispered gently, all too aware that one wrong move from him could send her into hysterics again.

He directed her gently under the spray and then began to massage her scalp, making certain all evidence of worm guts and mud were eradicated from her tresses before rinsing her hair clean. Then he repeated the procedure with conditioner, massaging her head until she moaned with appreciation. Her response encouraged him to keep going and gave him a little hope that they may share a more intimate activity soon.

Once he was satisfied that nothing horrid lingered in her hair, Draco rinsed it thoroughly. “Now we’ll see if the rest of you is clean, shall we?” he suggested in a nefarious whisper.

“I already—“ Ginny started as she turned in his arms. “Oh, you’re all wet.”

“I am,” Draco agreed with an amused grin. He’d become soaked to the skin while washing her hair, but he didn’t mind getting wet for her, at least not this way.

“You should get those wet clothes off,” Ginny whispered.

“I might need some help,” Draco returned huskily.

When her fingers brushed over his naked chest on their way to his shoulders his skin felt as though it had been lit on fire. She pushed his shirt off his shoulders, dragging it down his arms easily despite the fact that it was soaking wet. Draco slipped his feet out of his shoes before her hands reached his belt. As she appeared to be quite happy to undress him, he didn’t want any delays. He watched her face closely as she bent down to drag his trousers and boxers down his legs, and was more than a little pleased to see her eyes flick up to his face when she uncovered his throbbing member.

The moment he was free of his clothing, Draco stepped into the shower stall, gathered her in his arms and kissed her possessively. Her hands almost clawed at his back and shoulders as she clung to him, returning his attentions with the same intensity. He could feel the sensitive skin of his member brushing against her stomach and it served to increase his need to a level that was not to be denied. There was no question or forethought in his actions, Draco simply allowed his hands to drift down to her backside and deftly picked her up, so that her legs wound around him. Their mouths continued to assault each other as he slid into her with a moan of relief.

While this wasn’t quite the scene he’d envisioned over the past few months — an enormous bed where they could worship each other’s bodies — he found he didn’t much care. All that mattered now was the fact that they were finally as one and the ultimate release was imminent. Sensations of overwhelming proportions flooded his body, and Draco forced himself to remain still for a few moments so as to regain some control. He wasn’t going to last long and he knew it, but it wouldn’t stop him from trying to make this last as long as possible.

As he panted into her wet shoulder, Ginny’s mouth trailed down his neck, coming to rest over a pulse point that had always been incredibly sensitive; it was his one true weak spot. If you wanted to bring Draco Malfoy to his knees you didn’t need physical violence if you were prepared to run your tongue over the point where his neck met his shoulder. Conscious thoughts were immediately driven from his mind as primal need took over and any hope of control was sadly lost. Draco was powerless to stop his reaction, unless he put a stop to Ginny’s ministrations, but he was too weak to even think about doing that. Rhythm was nonexistent as he drove deeper into her, but it didn’t matter as he relished the sensations that had him trembling from the first second he’d felt her heat. Her busy mouth on his neck was driving him to the very brink of euphoria, leaving him to hover helplessly right on the precipice.

“Harder… Oh God, Draco, please,” Ginny pleaded breathlessly.

For just a second he was grateful that she was trapped against the tiles, unable to move, because he was sure to have climaxed by now if he had to deal with her movement as well. As for her request, he knew it would tip him over the edge, but who was he to deny her, or himself for that matter?

“Yes… yes… oh God…”

It had been so long since he’d heard a woman’s impassioned voice urging him to completion that his tenuous grip on his control was irrevocably compromised. Just as the first tremor ran through her body he felt his groin tighten and then with a soft grunt he emptied himself into her.

“No! Don’t stop! Please, oh God…”

A little disgusted with himself for not lasting longer, Draco poured what was left of his energy into satisfying Ginny. He knew time was of the essence, so rather than waste time hoping to succeed he simply continued to thrust into her for as long as he had any substance in his member. It wasn’t until the mantra she’d been chanting had stopped echoing off the tiles and her quivering muscles had given up trying to squeeze the life out of him that he slowed his movement.

He continued to hold her against the tiles as their breathing evened out. The words of encouragement and moans of ecstasy had been replaced with breathy panting and sighs of relief. It wasn’t a terribly comfortable position, especially when you weren’t actively shagging someone, but Draco didn’t really have the energy to move just yet. His forehead rested against her shoulder as he tried to get his brain to function normally again. It was a feat that was proving difficult while her fingers were playing with his hair.

“The tiles are cold on my arse,” Ginny whispered.

“Sorry,” Draco murmured as he released her legs.

“That was amazing.”

Draco smirked. “You’re amazing.”

Her hand came up to stroke his cheek lovingly. Draco couldn’t help but place a lingering kiss on her palm. There was a sense of peace surrounding him and he’d never felt so sated before. His hands drifted up to encircle her face and without losing eye contact, Draco leaned forward until his lips brushed hers lightly.

“I love you,” she murmured.

“And I you,” Draco returned in a husky whisper before caressing her lips with more fervor. Just as he began to memorize the silky curves of her back and bottom she shivered against his chest. “Are you cold?”

“A little,” Ginny admitted.

“Let’s get out of here and see about warming you up then.” A smirk crept across his face as an assortment of ideas to get her warm again paraded through Draco’s mind.

“Get me warm or just get my blood pumping again?”

“Does it matter if the result is the same?” Draco growled throatily.

She laughed lightly as she stepped from the shower stall and reached for one of the extra large fluffy towels.

He was right behind her, instantly relieving her of the towel, and setting about drying her in a meticulous manner.

“I could get used to this,” Ginny murmured as the towel patted her legs gently.

“The servants will take care of this when we’re at home, but as we’re not—“

“Servants?”

Draco flicked his eyes up to her face. He’d heard the unmistakable alarm in her voice. “We do have house elves.”

“But they— Do you mean that they—“

“They’ll do whatever you tell them to do,” Draco responded calmly, though he was barely holding in his amusement. “Personally, I prefer to dry myself… Their hands are scaly.”

“I think I’ll—“

“Ginny?”

“Yes?”

“They will do whatever your heart desires, but I don’t think any of them have dried any one of us since we were toddlers.”

“Oh…”

Her expression, which was caught between disbelief and horror, caused the bubble of laughter he’d held onto to explode. “You should see your face!”

“It’s not funny!” Ginny pouted and stamped her foot.

“I’m sorry, love,” Draco murmured insincerely. “I just couldn’t help myself.”

“You’ll have to learn to control that impulse,” she warned in a wounded tone.

“Did you really think I had a house elf dry me every time I took a shower?”

“I don’t know.” Ginny shrugged. “I’ve never showered with you before.”

Draco frowned lightly as he got to his feet. “I’m really sorry for tricking you,” he muttered as he placed a kiss on her forehead. Although they’d been together for months, they’d missed having that ‘alone’ time that most couples enjoyed, so they had a lot to learn about each other. “Let’s see about getting you warm again.”

“All right,” Ginny agreed.

As she stepped away from the towel Draco slung it around his hips. He had no intention of wasting much more time, so drying himself thoroughly wasn’t a priority. Ginny had stopped just a couple of steps outside the bathroom.

“What’s wrong?” Draco asked as his lips descended on her neck.

“We’re going to have to get that cleaned.”

Draco glanced over to the bed and groaned. He’d forgotten about the mess that had sent Ginny to the bathroom in the first place. “Right, you put something on, and I’ll call the front desk.”

“What about you? Are you going to answer the door in a towel?”

“I wouldn’t want to waste time… When they’re finished cleaning, I can just whip off the towel…” Draco’s voice trailed off as he took in her possessive expression. He found he rather liked the thought that she didn’t want anyone else to see him in such a state of undress. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” he finished.

Ginny smiled contentedly as she reached for her robe. It was part of a set his mother had given her especially for tonight. Just as the silky fabric enclosed her body a frown creased her brow. “What was that?”

“What?”

“Didn’t you hear it?” Ginny asked, taking a step towards the balcony doors. “There it is again!”

“It’s probably just a party or something.”

She shook her head and opened the French doors onto the balcony.

Draco watched the slow, careless sway of her hips as she wandered into the fresh air. A bloom of heat erupted in his groin again, and he knew he’d have to have her again before too long. The way her silky bathrobe fell against her rounded derriere as she leaned over the railing was incentive enough to see him discard to pants he was about to put on in favor of convincing her to join him inside for another round of what he’d been missing all these months. The cleaning could wait. After all, there was plenty of space in the suite, so they didn’t need the bed.

“Why don’t we—“

“Who is that down there?” Ginny asked, cutting his request off.

A frown creased his brow as his eyes followed where Ginny was pointing. Sure enough, there were three bodies sitting on the fountain wall that was below their suite. “I’m not sure,” Draco mumbled as he leaned around Ginny to get a better view.

“Oi! Malfoy, the least you could do is put some pants on!”

“Not everyone wants to see that thing.”

There was no mistaking the identity of the three men watching them from below: Blaise, Ron and Harry.

“The question is: has he used that thing yet?”

Echoes of laughter filled the small quadrangle below their room, along with assurances from all three below that there was no way he could have possibly put his ‘thing’ to good use yet, which just cause the three troublemakers to laugh even harder.

Draco sighed heavily. At least there was no question about who put the Flobberworms and other slimy things in their bed. Of course, how they managed it would probably remain a mystery, but then he decided that he didn’t really want to know. “Will you three go and get lives?”

“That reminds me… What was Blaise going on about during his speech?”

“Umm—I have no idea,” Draco stammered. He had a feeling his best man was going to get him into trouble at some point.

“He said something about a trophy and proof,” Ginny expanded.

Draco’s hand drifted up to rub his neck uncomfortably and he released another heavy sigh. “Do you remember that Christmas party you turned up to the first night we got together?”

“Yes.”

“Well, he sort of dared me to have my wicked way with you…”

“Did he?”

“And I was supposed to keep your knickers as proof that I’d been successful.”

“I don’t think I was wearing knickers that night,” Ginny mused.

“You weren’t and he didn’t believe that we’d… Well, you know.”

“I see.”

“Ginny, it was a foolish thing to do, but I can’t really say I’m sorry.”

“Why?”

“If he hadn’t dared me I wouldn’t have lusted after you, and I wouldn’t have gotten to know you, so we wouldn’t be here now.” As he spoke he drew her into his arms and held her against his chest. “So, you see, I can’t be sorry for playing a foolish game.”

“I guess I can forgive that, considering where it all led in the end.” She reached up and covered his mouth with hers. “What are we going to do to get rid of them?”

“I don’t know,” Draco groaned.

“Well, I can think of something that would see at least two of them running away as fast as they can.” Ginny grinned nefariously.

“What might that be?”

With her wicked grin in place she slid down his body, trailing her mouth over his bare chest to his waist. It should have occurred to him what she was about to do, but he was so mesmerized by her touch that his brain had instantly disengaged. A cry of horrified disgust rose from below them just as her little pink tongue flicked out to touch his aching member. Reality rushed at him with force, and in a split second Draco had lifted Ginny off the floor and they were inside the suite again.

“Not out there,” Draco explained as he placed her on her feet.

“Didn’t they run away?”

“Your brother and Potter did, but Blaise was getting himself comfortable for the floor show.”

She flushed bright crimson. “Oh…”

“If we stay in here long enough he’ll get bored and move on,” Draco said, glancing out the doors. He could just see Blaise sitting six floors below them and it didn’t look like he was going anywhere in the near future.

“Do you think…” Ginny paused to bite her lip, and then almost ran to the bureau.

Several pieces of silky lingerie flew over her shoulder as she searched the drawer for whatever it was she was looking for.

“Ginny?”

“There they are!” She held up a scrap of black fabric with a look of triumph on her face.

“What are you going to do?” Draco asked cautiously. The last thing he wanted her to do right now was put on more clothes.

“I’m going to give your mate what he wants,” she answered with a wide grin.

Draco’s eyes opened wide with horror. “I don’t think—“

“There’s no point in keeping these—“ She waved the black scrap at him. “—because the moment I put them on you’ll only rip them off, so I may as well save time and get rid of them now.”

“Get rid of them?” Draco’s frown deepened. “Ginny, what are you doing exactly?”

“I’m giving him what he’s wanted all along,” she replied as she crossed the floor to the balcony doors.

Draco was too stunned to move for a few moments, but when he realized that Ginny was no longer inside he ran outside into the fresh air. She was leaning over the balcony, holding the black garment in her hand ready to drop it the six floors to the ground.

“Remember, Zabini, we have a deal,” Ginny warned.

“Yeah, yeah, we have a deal,” Blaise responded cheekily.

“Deal? What’s the deal?” Draco demanded. He knew better than anyone that Blaise Zabini was a master at turning so called ‘deals’ around to his advantage.

“Never mind,” Ginny replied absently.

Before he could stop her, Ginny let the item in her hand fall. Draco was floundering. Should he demand to know what she’d just done or should he charge downstairs and demand whatever it was that Ginny had just dropped down to Blaise? He’d never had to deal with anything like protecting a woman before. Even when they were officially courting there was always a Weasley brother to step in and do the protecting before he could react to any given situation.

“Crotch-less! You lucky bastard!” Blaise bellowed happily.

“Wh—what did you give him, Ginevra?” Draco inquired slowly.

“Oh, it was just a pair of knickers that my sisters-in-law thought you’d enjoy, but like I said before—“

“They wouldn’t last long on,” Draco finished for her in a whisper. “You gave them to Blaise?”

“We made a deal.”

“What sort of deal?”

Ginny smiled at him as she moved to stand right in front of him. “Look… He’s gone.”

“Gone? You got him to leave?”

“It was just a matter of letting him think he was getting something special in return.”

“And your knickers aren’t special?”

“There was just one thing I didn’t mention to him about those knickers—“ Ginny glanced up at him from under her lashes. “I’ve never worn them.”

Draco burst out laughing. “I love you, Mrs. Malfoy.”

“I love you,” Ginny whispered.

As their mouths met hungrily her robe slipped off her shoulders. If anyone decided to come back and spy on them now they’d be getting the full floor show, because Draco had no intention of stopping until he was fully satisfied.

Fin

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AUTHOR’S NOTE

Thanks to Rainpuddle13 for her wonderful beta skills!