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Where She Goes	By : Qestral Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 2039 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Where She Goes
- 1
This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

When Ron Weasley walked into his
sister's room—knocking, but not waiting for an invitation—he
hadn't really expected her to be busy. Least of all busy naked,
covers half over herself, with a strange buzzing noise emitting from
below the sheets.

“RON! GETOUTGETOUTGETOUT!”

The panic-stricken Ron immediately
left, closing the door behind him, then turned to stare at the door
as if this was all the door's fault. Then he sat, leaning against
the wall behind him, deeply embarrassed and wondering when his little
sister had gone and gotten so...adult.

Several minutes later, a fully dressed
and downright livid Ginevra Weasley opened her bedroom door and
stepped into the hallway.

“Ron,” she said, obviously
struggling not to hit him, “If I don't answer, don't enter.”

“Right,”
he said automatically. “Uhm... what--?”

She scowled at
him, and he realized she was just as embarrassed as he was. “Believe
it or not, Ron, girls have sex drives, too.”

“Well, yeah,
but the buzzing...”

Ginny said a nasty
word, one that made Ron almost as uncomfortable as walking in on her
earlier—When did Ginny grow up? She's not supposed to say
or do those things!--and said in a dangerously calm voice, “It's
a muggle thing. It... helps.”

He asked, “How's
buzzing help?”, and if he hadn't looked so genuinely confused
Ginny might've pummeled him.

“It
vibrates.”

“Oh.”
There was a pause, then Ron turned a lovely shade of crimson. “Oh.”
Oh God, he thought. I always figured walking on Gin with
a boyfriend would be bad... Somehow, this is worse.

In a desperate
attempt to lighten the mood, he smirked at her. “You'd better
keep Dad away from the buzzing thing. He'll lump it right in with
all sorts of muggle artifacts and magic it like he did the Ford
Anglia.”

Ginny laughed and
shuddered and made a noise of amused disgust, then she asked, “You
aren't going to tell anyone about this, right?”

Ron looked
apalled. “You think I want to explain to anyone that I walked
in on my sister getting herself off?”

Ginny blushed at
her brother's phrasing, but continued, “I'll take that as a
'Don't worry, Ginny, I won't,' then. Thanks, Ron.”

With that, Ginny
turned to go downstairs.

She was feeling a
desperate need to wash her hands.

*

It wasn't that
Ginny was at a lack of men to date; on her way into her seventh year
at Hogwarts, she had several practically jumping at the chance to
date her, and when Harry had made a rare visit to the Burrow, she'd
taken a delighted pleasure in noticing him 'notice' her. There was
no Special Someone in her life, though; Voldemort was still posing a
threat, and so even if Harry was sincerely interested there was no
way he'd risk a relationship just now, and none of the other boys in
her grade were bold enough to even ask her out.

Not that she could
blame them, she supposed; she had six older brothers, three of which
her classmates remembered, one who had only just graduated and was
therefore still fresh in their minds. Anytime and everytime Ron
caught someone looking at Ginny the wrong way (Was there even a
right way? She thought), he gave them a very stern talking to.

When it came down
to it, she really only had her overprotective family to blame for her
celibacy.

Not for the first
time, Ginny wished she'd had understanding sisters. Even just one
would've been helpful; if she weren't constantly under her brothers'
well intended but annoying protection, she might've gotten laid by
now.

She wasn't the
only virgin in Hogwarts. Most of her classmates were, in fact; it
wasn't a matter of feeling pressured by her peers. It was a matter
of having more sexual energy than she knew what to do with that was
the problem. Ginny desperately wanted to be with someone, and it was
getting to the point where she would've taken Draco Malfoy, if he
offered.

And that night, as
she put the Impenetrable Charm on the door during the afterhours
while her family slept, it was thoughts of Draco she'd decided to
comfort herself with.

Ginny closer her
eyes, and in her mind it wasn't her hands but Draco's that traced
fingertips down her neck, along the collar of her white buttoned-down
shirt. The fingertips caught at the first button, and with finesse
flicked it open, then the next, and the next, until reaching the
bottom. Then those fingertips traced back up her stomach and over
her bra, pushing the shirt open and peeling it back from her
shoulder.

If she
concentrated hard enough, the sensation of lips brushed at her now
exposed collarbone, and the tip of a tongue ran along the inside of
the hollow between her neck and shoulder. Draco's hand, not her own,
kneaded at her left breast before sliding the other half of the shirt
off of her, letting it drop to the floor in a heap.

Ginny stood in the
middle of her bedroom, her bra strap falling down and her hands
running down her sides, her abdomen, towards her skirt. In her
thoughts, however, she was somewhere far away, in a more romantic
setting... A stone cottage, maybe, with a large fireplace bright with
burning logs, standing on a woven rug, and the bed was just a few
feet away and neatly made with a big, puffy down comforter—and
standing inches away from her, with his hands tracing their way to
her skirt, was Draco Malfoy. He already had his shirt off, and the
buckle on his belt was undone, and his lips were crushing against
hers because he wanted her, not just for her body but because he
sincerely liked her. Otherwise they would never be here...

It didn't matter
in Ginny's mind that the situation wasn't realistic. It was a
fantasy, after all, one that didn't have to make sense. Hormones
didn't make sense; they drove people to do silly things, she
rationalized. Then she brought her attention back to where it
belonged.

Draco's hands ran
down the sides of her pleated skirt. Rather than go straight for the
zipper holding the skirt up, he got to the bottom of the skirt and
went under it. He wrapped his hands around her and gave her rump a
good firm squeeze before moving up enough to find the top of her
stockings. When Draco found the top, he pulled them down,
fingernails dragging a little against her skin, leaving faint pink
trails in their wake.

In her mind, he
grabbed her by the back of her upper thighs and heaved her onto the
bed, and in her mind she giggled. In her room, it was more of a
collapse, smiling as she entertained her own thoughts. The real
Draco would probably be mortified to think Ginny Weasley was
fantasizing about him in such a typically girly way. He probably
thought only Pansy Parkinson did this...

But, really,
Ginny thought. I'm so much of an improvement on her.

Ginny's hands slid
down her legs, still smooth from shaving earlier that day. But to
her, it was Draco admiring how silky her legs felt, kissing the
inside of her knees and making her twitch at the feeling. The
stockings were cast to the floor, probably not too far from her
shirt. Then hands were sliding over her ankles, her calves,
delicately up her warm inner thighs, flipping the hem of her skirt
up. Those hands set her skirt straight again long enough to find the
zipper, then yank the intrusive item off of her.

With her eyes
closed, Ginny could see Draco leaning over her, his hips between her
thighs and his hands tangling in her hair. He kissed her mouth, then
her jaw, then down her neck. She arched her back upwards, his kisses
trailing towards her breasts while one hand reached behind her
and—with a deftness unexpected from a man—unhooked the
clasp on her bra.

The bra was pulled
away from her chest and tossed aside, doubtless much further away and
more carelessly thrown from her other clothes, and when Ginny opened
her eyes briefly she was almost certain she could see it hanging by a
strap from the door handle. She screwed her eyes tightly shut again;
she wasn't interested in her clothes or her bedroom. She was
interested in that puffy bed with that lithe young blond pinching at
her nipples, tongueing them from time to time. She could feel his
tongue running its way gently down her stomach, flipping at her
navel, then teasing just along the top of her panties. Her legs
quivered involuntarily.

Ginny always felt
so sexy in that pair of underwear. They were black, made of
something see-through, and the leg openings were trimmed with lace.
The panties weren't quite a thong, but they weren't quite bikini-cut,
either. They made her butt look so nice, and they didn't leave a
panty-line when she wore them.

And they were
see-through! If her siblings knew she had these...

Draco could
respect the sexiness of her black underwear. He nuzzled through her
panties against the patch of fluff that started about four and a half
inches below her navel, and he took his hands away from her breasts
so he could trace the line her panties made over her butt and between
her thighs. Ginny felt a finger trace over the damp spot on the
crotch of her panties, and she gasped inspite of herself, and her
hips shivered. Draco smirked.

Ginny had to give
herself some credit for staying true to his character, even in this
fantasy she was creating.

Draco was careful
about tugging the panties off, and he pushed them under the pillows,
so that later—when crawling out of bed was the last thing on
their minds—Ginny had something nearby that she could slip
into. Then he had his face between her thighs again, and if she
thought hard enough Ginny could feel his breath, light and hot.

Having had no
first hand experience with anything beyond groping (only the once,
with a Hufflepuff she'd tried to see on the sly; George had given him
the 'big brother speech' and she didn't see much of him again), Ginny
had to go on what she had pried out of her friends. That was enough
for her, at least; she could imagine Draco's fingers pushing back the
folds of her flower, massaging at her clitoris gently and then the
warm, wet heat of tongue pressing and moving against her. That
muscle probing, flicking, then his lips pressing around her clit and
sucking. His tongue sliding out of his mouth again and along her
slit, slipping into her and making her moan softly in response.

One of Ginny's
hands was at her breast, fondling herself and teasing at the nipple,
pinching and rolling it into a bud. Her other hand was between her
thighs, her middle finger sliding in and out of herself and her thumb
rubbing awkwardly against her clit. She sat up on her bed, mentally
pausing the fantasy long enough to open the drawer on her bedside
table and pull out a long, plastic device. The end of it was crooked
at almost a forty-five degree angle from the rest of it, and it was
thicker, like a tulip before blooming. At the base was a twisting
knob, and Ginny turned it a little. The rod began to purr gently.

Ginny closed her
eyes.

The rod was no
longer a pale purple vibrating device, but Draco's own manhood; his
pants lay on the floor not far from her own clothes, leaving him
naked and bent over her body, probing gently at her with the end of
his cock. He rubbed against her clit, and she moaned audibly, then
arranged himself against her slit, and began to apply gentle
pressure.

The nerves around
her opening hummed with sensation, then Ginny stifled a gasp as the
head of Draco's prick drove into her, and she heard him let out a
groan of pleasure. She imagined his hands gripping her shoulders,
his fingers digging in sharply as he pulled back and thrust again...
then again...and again...

The pace increased
slowly, and at first Draco withdrew until he was almost out before
thrusting back in again. But before long, he had reached an almost
frantic speed, the head of his cock bumping the sensitive spot a
couple inches inside of her and making Ginny gasp audibly, and as he
continued she began to cry out softly.

Ginny brought her
consciousness back to reality just long enough to turn the dial on
the vibrator as high as it would go. The sensation of it threw her
back into Draco's arms, one of his hands tight on her shoulder, the
other squeezing her breast, and Ginny moaned—short, breathy
moans, rending the air as she felt every muscle in her body tighten,
her whole being shake, in the force of an orgasm.

Draco
groaned, his face intense and his brow furrowed, eyes closed as he
came, but the sound faded, as did his expression, in the aftermath of
Ginny's own release. She switched the vibrator off and pulled it
slowly out, wiping it clean with a tissue she snatched from the box
on top of her nightstand before putting it back in the drawer. She
tossed the wadded up tissue at the wastebin; it hit the side and
bounced off, but she was too tired to care just then.
Instead, she pulled back her bed covers, fumbling to get from on top
to underneath them, retrieved her panties from under her pillow, and
rolled onto her side to fall asleep.

The next time I see Draco Malfoy,
she thought, I'm going to bust up laughing. I hope no one
asks me to explain why.
- 1
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Where She Goes