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Candle in the Window	By : Sarea Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 3723 -:- 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-Candle in the Window
- 1
TITLE: Candle in the Window

AUTHOR: Sarea Okelani

E-MAIL ADDRESS: sareaokelani@hotmail.com

WEBSITE: http://www.angelfire.com/wizard/okelani/

RATING: NC-17

CATEGORY: Story, Romance, Angst

SPOILERS: You're safe if you've read all of the HP books.

KEYWORDS: Draco/Ginny

DISTRIBUTION: Please do not archive -- the full text of this story will be archived at my site or elsewhere at my sole discretion (mostly for version control issues). If you'd like to link to this story from your Web site, I'd be honored -- but drop me a line first, please.

DISCLAIMER: Yeah, not mine. Though I suspect that even JKR doesn't have the imagination to put these two characters together. ; )

FEEDBACK: The only thing you can't buy in Diagon Alley, so any you'd like to give away would be greatly appreciated!

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Muchas gas tas to Jade for the quick and always-amusing beta. This story is dedicated to Lissanne, a wonderful person, friend, and writer. Happy birthday, doll! May your day be filled with fun and laughter. And lots and lots of smut. Here's my contribution to that end. I hope you enjoy it. *hugs*

SUMMARY: There are some things you can't let go of, no matter how hard you try.
Candle in the Window

by Sarea Okelani
~.~
Ginny wasn't sure what woke her. One minute she was sleeping a dreamless sleep; the next she was trying to open her heavy eyelids in the darkness. A noise must have penetrated her unconscious mind. Or had it simply been part of her dream? After much effort, she succeeded in opening her eyes, but after a quick, groggy look around, she saw nothing amiss and settled back into her warm sheets, fully intending to go right back to sleep.
This time the tapping at the window was unmistakable.
Suddenly wide awake, Ginny threw back her covers, heart pounding. She thought about running next door and rousing Ron and Harry, but wouldn't she feel a dozen shades of fool if it were nothing? She bit her lip and warily approached the window. It was probably just a tree branch. Only, the last time she'd looked, there hadn't been any trees there. She reached out with a hand that trembled only slightly and cautiously drew back one of the curtains. She let out a yelp when she saw that there was actually someone out there, and let the curtain swoosh back into place, her heart lodged somewhere in the vicinity of her throat.
The tapping came again, this time harder and with a distinct edge of impatience. She thought she heard her name. Rather odd behavior for a thief or murderer.
Her heart still beating wildly, Ginny drew the curtains fully aside and this time recognized Draco Malfoy, astride a broomstick, hovering inches away on the other side of the glass. She relaxed slightly, one hand pressed against her chest. He looked pointedly at the closed window, and she moved to open it, fumbling the latch. As soon as it was open, the cool night air blew in, causing goose pimples to rise on her skin.
"Hello," said Draco as if they had casually encountered one another on the street. Of course, in that instance he'd be far more likely not to say anything at all. Instead, he'd sneer at her and deliberately cross over to the other side to avoid any possibility that they'd come into contact. His expression now was impassive; she couldn't find any answers in those shuttered eyes of his. They looked on her coolly, seeming not to notice that she was dressed only in a nightgown and had been asleep only moments ago. Ginny, however, was acutely conscious of his typically immaculate state compared with her own less-than-impressive appearance. Draco was dressed to the nines in neatly pressed charcoal gray trousers, a black dress shirt, and a heavy woolen cloak. Which begged the question of what he was doing here, hovering outside her window.
"Hi," Ginny responded inanely, then made an impatient sound. "What are you doing here?" she asked in a whisper that was barely a whisper.
"I don't know," he said, and continued to stare at her.
Ginny didn't know what to say to this. His answer took some of the wind out of her sails, as such an admission was the last thing she'd expected to hear from Draco Malfoy's mouth. Not know exactly what he was doing at all times? Inconceivable. "Well, you shouldn't be here," she said finally, stating the obvious. "We agreed we wouldn't do this anymore." Not that they had, strictly speaking. Not here, anyway. They'd confined their "relationship" to Draco's bedroom, deserted classrooms and empty broom closets at school. When it had come time several weeks ago to board the Hogwarts Express and leave another year behind them, Ginny and Draco had mutually agreed to let whatever was between them die a natural death over the summer. After all, anything other than blind hatred was risky for so many reasons. Whatever they had wasn't worth the price they'd have to pay if they were caught. That was what Ginny told herself, at least.
"I know," he said. It took a moment for his next words to sink in. "It's my birthday."
"Oh!" Ginny said finally, as if this were any explanation at all. And oddly, whether it was because she'd grown up in a household that celebrated each birthday with raucous cheer, or whether it was because she knew he hadn't grown up in such a home, it did suddenly seem churlish of her to keep him out there. "Won't you come in?"
Draco moved to enter before the last word of the invitation left her mouth. He entered through her window with a deftness that was rather suspicious, if you asked her, and propped his broom against the wall next to the window. He then thrust his hands into his pockets and surveyed her room, finding it wanting, no doubt. The carpet was threadbare, clutter graced her desk and her shelves (and several places in between), and she seemed to be raising a small menagerie of stuffed animals (no one had yet figured out what else to give her for birthdays and Christmases). Her bed sheets were pink and white. A bright purple boa hung haphazardly over the slightly tilted full-length mirror (which let out a contented sigh when it caught sight of Ginny's visitor), and a tiny table where she used to serve tea to her favored dolls sat in a corner. It was a little girl's room, but she hadn't noticed it until now, when she saw it through the eyes of a stranger. She could feel herself burn with embarrassment. She spent most of her time at Hogwarts now, Ginny defended in her head. Besides, if she'd known she was going to have visitors she would have cleaned a little. No one had asked Draco or his overwhelming boy presence to invade the sanctity of her little girl's bedroom.
She stared at him in dismay. He was too tall, too male, too wealthy, too blond, too everything.
"Is that why you're dressed like that?" Ginny asked, her voice snapping his attention to her from his cursory study of the room.
"What?" He looked down at himself. "Oh. Yes, I suppose." He sounded as if he didn't really know what she was on about. Ginny had never felt more gauche, digging her bare toes into the worn (pink) carpet. He probably dressed nicely for dinner all the time, she thought, no matter the occasion. This was Draco Malfoy, after all, not a normal boy. She glanced at the clock that hung over the desk. It was eleven thirty; she had only been asleep for an hour and a half, but it felt like the middle of the night. She still had no idea why Draco was standing in the middle of her bedroom, when they had expressly agreed never to seek one another out again. "Go to bed early, do you?"
Instantly, she felt a flare of annoyance at the implication that she led a very boring, uneventful life. Normally, she didn't go to bed until well past midnight; last night had been an exception. Why did she feel the sudden urge to defend herself? She quelled it. "Show up at people's windows rather late, don't you?"
Draco ignored her. "Mind if I sit?"
"Please, be my guest," Ginny said solicitously. "Let me just--" She started to clear off the clothes that hung on the only chair in the room, but faltered when Draco made his way over to her bed and sat down. A stuffed llama rolled over and pressed its nose against his knee.
Ginny crossed her arms, wishing she'd worn more than just her nightgown to investigate the noise outside. She watched Draco undo his cloak and fling it carelessly over the foot of the bed, and began to worry about how long he was planning to stay. She was just about to ask when he lifted one eyebrow at her and gave her an appraising look. "Well, come sit by me. I won't bite."
The memory of the love mark from their last encounter that had taken weeks to heal properly said otherwise, but she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of backing down now. Making her way over to the bed, she chose a spot by the pillows, which was close enough to Draco that it didn't seem as if she were avoiding him, but far enough away that they did not touch.
However, the instant she sat down he slid closer, his arm reaching around her, his hand skimming over her derriere so lightly that it might have been accidental. Ginny tensed; his hand now rested on the bed at a spot near her hip, and if she moved even fractionally, her back would brush against his arm. So she pretended that his arm was not behind her at all, and that his head was most definitely not moving by slow degrees closer to hers.
"You haven't answered me," she said, ignoring the flutter by her ear. She stared straight ahead and tried not to feel the intense heat that emanated from him, warming one side of her body. "Draco, what are you doing here?"
"It's my birthday," he murmured directly into her ear, making her jump and shiver. "I just want to..." He nudged her hair aside and touched his nose to her neck, to the area right below her ear.
She could feel his warm breath caress her skin tantalizingly, and closed her eyes, trying to recall why this was wrong, why she ought to insist that he leave immediately. But it felt good -- too good -- to have him near, and with a sigh she gave in and relaxed her posture, bringing her fully in contact with the arm that rested behind her. Draco abandoned any pretense of casualness and firmly drew her near.
"So what?" she said, trying half-heartedly to move out of his reach and inject criticism into her tone. "You think that entitles you to a birthday go?"
He shrugged. "Might be nice," he whispered, trailing slow, open-mouthed kisses from the corner of her mouth to the nape of her neck.
"You said we wouldn't do this again," she reminded him.
"I was delirious."
"You seemed in perfectly good health to me," she said, goaded into reminding him how absolutely unemotional he had been about their break up. If one could even call it that. At the time, she had tried to mirror his indifference, but hadn't been nearly as good at it. Before Draco, Ginny had never felt quite so keen a need to keep her heart under wraps -- or at least, to make the object of her affections believe it was under wraps. Again, she tried to move away a little, but Draco's hold tightened around her and his other hand began to play with the hem of her nightdress.
"I was out of my mind," he said. "I am out of my mind. I can't stop thinking about you, Gin girl --"
"Argh," she said. "Don't call me that." The first time he had referred to her as such, it had sounded a lot like love, and she had felt a swelling of hope that had been dashed when he wouldn't meet her eyes in the hallways. She'd told herself that from that point on, she wouldn't weave silly romantic fantasies around him; he would have no compunction in crushing them. But of all his manipulative tactics, this one had always been able to find every crack in her armor, and she couldn't let it.
"Why?" he breathed into her ear. "Aren't you my Gin girl?"
"Shut up," she said, and turned her head to kiss him. Their lips met in a scorching, messy, wonderful kiss. Ginny was convinced that Draco wanted to swallow her whole, and like most other things he attempted, just might manage to do it. He thrived on challenge, which was doubtless why he was here tonight. He couldn't have her, so of course, he had to have her.
She pushed him away, startling him enough that he allowed it to happen. "No, no," she said. "Never again. I am never sleeping with you again."
Draco grabbed her hand, twining her fingers with his. Another weakness of hers, damn him. She loved the tactile feeling of his hand in hers, and he knew it. "Never is a long time," he said softly. He raised her hand to his mouth and kissed it, and although she knew this was all part of his practiced charm, she couldn't prevent the small fire that started in her belly when she met his steady gray-eyed gaze. How many times had she seen that same look in his eyes, under far more intimate circumstances?
She had to admit that she'd missed him, missed those fleeting moments of closeness that she felt when they were joined and breathing harshly into one another's ears. What could one more time hurt, really?
Ginny pulled away fully in order to go lock the door (this no magic outside of school business was really intolerable sometimes), silencing his protests with a kiss to the jaw and a quiet, "Take off your clothes, then."
He had already removed his shoes, socks, and trousers when she returned. She took his cloak and draped it over the chair, then sat behind him as he finished unbuttoning his shirt. She drew it off his shoulders and gently placed it over his cloak to spare it from further wrinkling. She had always loved the quality of his clothing, as well as the unconscious grace with which he wore it. Still, she had to admit she liked him best without any clothes at all.
On impulse, Ginny covered his eyes with her hands. "What color are my eyes?" she asked.
"They're the color of your eyes," Draco said matter-of-factly.
Disappointed by the evasion but not really surprised, Ginny trailed her hands down and massaged his neck, then his shoulders, and she leaned forward to kiss and suckle the area where the two met. She nuzzled his nape and behind his ear. His hairline, as usual, was even and perfect -- he had his hair professionally cut every two weeks without fail -- and she breathed in the light scent of his cologne as she trailed kisses over his skin. Following the groove of his spine, she veered off that particular path and spent some time lavishing attention on the single tiny mole located directly on his left shoulder blade that marred the otherwise unblemished landscape of his back. He had never asked why she insisted on concentrating on that particular area, and she had never told him the mole was there.
"Was there a party tonight?" she whispered against his skin. Her arms wrapped around him, her fingers occasionally skimming over his bared skin.
"Yes," he said, sounding distracted.
"Did you dance?"
"I loathe dancing."
"But ... you did it anyway."
"Well, who am I to deny the girls of the best partner they'll ever have?"
Ginny bit him, making Draco jerk in surprise. How gratifying; she was rarely able to surprise him. "Did you have a lot of dance partners?"
Draco turned his head, trying to look at her face, but she kept herself carefully concealed, pressed against him. "Why? Jealous?"
Even if she were, she would hardly admit it to him, conceited prat that he was. "Not at all," she said. "Just want to get an idea of how tired you are."
Abruptly twisting in her arms, Draco had her pinned to the mattress before she could even let out a surprised gasp. "I'm not tired at all," he said softly, then dipped his head and kissed her.
Ginny's brain swam dizzily. His tongue parted her lips and swirled around her mouth in lazy contemplation. He tasted like champagne, and she was getting drunk off of it. She held on to his head, fingers gripping his hair, as he kissed his way down her throat and nuzzled the area between her breasts. He licked at her nipples through her nightdress, sending waves of sensation spiraling down to her toes. She barely noticed when one of his hands reached under the hem of her gown, but certainly took attention when that same hand insinuated itself between her thighs and began to thoroughly ascertain the extent of her arousal.
"You're not wearing any knickers," he whispered in feral amusement. "Naughty girl."
Ginny was slick with excitement and groaned when Draco ran an expert finger through her folds before stabbing deep inside. She couldn't find the words to explain that she didn't like feeling the restriction of knickers when she slept. Not that he seemed to require a response.
"Are you still taking the potion?" he rasped, adding another finger and curling the two slightly as he moved them in and out.
"Yes," she whimpered. She wasn't sure why she had continued to take the weekly birth control potion that she'd been on, considering the fact that she and Draco had ended things and she hadn't planned to sleep with anyone else in the near term. Perhaps in the back of her mind she had always expected, or hoped for, this.
"Thank God," said Draco, his relief palpable. He pulled his fingers out of her, and with Ginny's assistance, yanked her nightdress over her head and tossed it somewhere off to the side. She tugged at his boxer shorts until they eased over his pulsating erection and his hips, and he threw those aside as well.
Now she had him hot and hard in her hands, and it was unbelievable how much she had missed this simple pleasure. Ginny gave him a firm squeeze, smiling when she was rewarded with a growl that told her he had liked that very much. She was surprised when he grabbed her wrist and pulled her away from him, trapping her hands on either side of her head.
"I'm close tonight, Gin girl," he panted, closing his eyes. She waited patiently for him to collect himself, despite her barely contained need to feel him inside her. After a moment he opened his eyes again and grinned down at her. "I love it when you're at my mercy."
It was true that he was much stronger than she was, and she couldn't have broken free of his grip even if she'd tried. But she wasn't quite as helpless as he thought, either. She trailed a foot up his calf, using her toes to tickle the area behind his knee. Her own knee slid over his hip and brushed against his hardness, teasing him with her touch. He let out a sound that was not quite a moan.
"You were saying?" she asked huskily, enjoying the sight of a naked, aroused Draco desperate to join his body with hers.
He moved to settle more comfortably between her thighs, coaxing her legs open so that he could place the tip of his erection against her moist entrance. Her eyes closed involuntarily in feeling that familiar yet foreign pressure; she pushed experimentally with her hips and gasped when he partially entered her.
"Oh, we shouldn't be doing this," she moaned as he began to push relentlessly into her tightness, stretching her wide, making her accommodate him. "Ron and Harry," she gasped, suddenly remembering, "are right next door."
For some reason this made Draco smile broadly and place a chaste kiss on her lips. "Then you'll just have to be very, very quiet, won't you?" he rasped, pressing her into the mattress. In another few moments he was buried to the hilt, and Ginny bit his shoulder to keep from crying out. Her stuffed llama looked at her with reproving, beady eyes.
It was an odd thing to be having sex in the bedroom where she'd played with dolls as a small girl; where Ron had once accidentally knocked out one of her baby teeth; where she'd tried on makeup while the twins had taunted her from the other side of the door; where she'd dreamed for hours on end about Harry Potter. Her childhood bed barely fit Draco and herself; it was all she could do not to tumble right off when he began to thrust, none too gently.
"Ungh," she said, lifting herself up a little to meet his next thrust. "This is so s-strange," she murmured before she could stop herself.
"What's strange?" he grunted without ceasing movement. "Is this uncomfortable for you?"
"No, you're fine," she hastened to assure. "It's -- this. You. I n-never imagined it would be y-you." She didn't know why she had been compelled to sudden honesty.
Draco stilled his hips. "I hope you aren't implying that you indulge in make believe when we're together," he said in a silky voice.
Ginny couldn't believe the conclusion he had leapt to. Think of someone else? It was laughable. As if she could. As if she could possibly pretend the scent that was uniquely Draco was someone else's; that she could pretend his voice, his touch, was someone else's voice, someone else's touch. Not to mention the fact that she hadn't a clue as to what making love with anyone else even felt like. Pretend Draco was anyone other than who he was? She could sooner pretend that she was an only child.
Some of her disbelief must have communicated itself to him, because his tenseness eased, his expression clearing. He grunted in satisfaction as he pulled out and buried himself deep once again, and she automatically planted her feet on the bed to brace herself against similar impact. Her hips lifted to try and meet his every thrust, but it was hardly necessary; he bore down on her tirelessly, invading her welcoming softness with burning heat and purpose.
Ginny had never seen him like this, so lacking finesse, so openly desiring her. She could sense it in the urgency of his strokes, in his labored breathing, in the rapid pulse that beat in his throat. It was all there, the evidence of his need, and it was enough. It had to be enough.
She struggled against his grip, as he still held her wrists manacled to the bed. She could tell he wasn't really paying attention; his eyes had closed as he moved rhythmically against her and in her, and she gasped softly, "Draco, let me go, I want to touch you."
Somewhere in his sexual haze he heard the request, and obediently let go of her wrists, his hands finding purchase on the bed instead. Ginny wrapped her arms about his neck, enjoying the push and pull of his hips. It was all she could do not to yell her pleasure as he filled her again and again, the repetition of intense fullness followed by a short reprieve feeling nothing short of spectacular. There was no doubt about it; she had missed making love with him. The bed creaked with their passion, and Ginny sincerely hoped that it was not loud enough to be heard beyond her bedroom walls. Who knew her bed was so squeaky?
Her freed hands began to roam the long, broad expanse of his back, her fingers tracing his spine and settling in the sweet spot at the small of his back. She ventured lower, and held him against her for several blissful minutes as he thrust inside her. As good as it felt, however, she wanted more; the heat in her loins demanded release, and so with a good deal of coaxing she was able to get Draco flat on his back.
Ginny impatiently pushed her hair back, then lifted and fell on him over and over again, positioning herself so that his hardness scraped against the underside of her clit on every downstroke. She used him mercilessly, moving on him with greater speed and strength as her climax approached, and Draco let her. He held her upper thighs loosely, watching with unfathomable gray eyes as she pitched forward gracelessly and gasped her satisfaction. When the moment of crisis came, she opened her mouth to scream, because it was not in her nature to hold back (and she'd never had to before), but luckily he had the presence of mind to clamp his hand over her mouth so that she cried out into his palm instead of the quiet room with thin walls.
She collapsed against him, breathing hard, hearing the reassuring thump-thump of his own racing heartbeat. The rise and fall of his chest was a comfort, and it was awhile before she realized that his as-yet-unsatisfied erection still pulsed within her. Ginny lifted her head and smiled at her lover, whose eyes were bright and growing more feverish by the second. She leaned forward to give Draco a soft kiss on the lips. "Your turn," she said. She braced both arms on either side of his head, and began to move her lower body once more.
His eyes slipped closed, but Ginny didn't mind; he was less guarded this way. She could see how her every movement affected him. When she flexed her inner muscles around his hardness, she saw his jaw clench even as his fingers bit into her hips, forcefully pulling her down onto him. She rode him until she ached, all her muscles screaming for reprieve; she rode him until he jerked his hips up to slam against hers, urgent and demanding. And she held on when he came, growing harder and bigger inside her until she felt the throbbing explosion of his climax. "Gin girl," he muttered, as if the words were being torn out of him. Then he bit her neck, but she didn't mind. He strained against her and she made tight circles with her hips, taking everything he had to give.
When they had both recovered a bit and the fresh air from the window was chilly rather than refreshing, Ginny moved them away from the wet spot (given how small the bed was, this simply meant that they were lying practically on top of one another) and gathered the covers around them. She settled comfortably against the pillows and Draco immediately covered her waist with a possessive arm, pulling her closer. He looked ridiculous and incongruous, wrapped in pink and white bed sheets. She stifled a giggle and rather wished she had a camera to mark the occasion.
"I didn't actually come here for a shag," he said against her neck, sounding pained to admit it.
Ginny was surprised. "Why did you come here?"
He didn't answer for a long time. Then, "I don't know ... but when I saw you, I had to stay. I could make out your hair through the window, and I knew you were asleep, but I had to see you. I had to." He was silent then, and she could tell he regretted saying even that much.
She wanted to press further, but instead she kissed his still-damp temple and murmured, "Happy birthday, Draco."
He sighed. "Best birthday ever," he mumbled, and soon his deep, even breathing told her he was asleep.
~.~
Ginny stretched and snuggled into her bed; she felt wonderfully relaxed and cheerful. How odd. That was far removed from how she normally was in the mornings. A shadow passed over her, disconcerting enough that her eyes flew open, and she shrieked to find someone else in her bedroom.
"For God's sake, shut it, Weasley," Draco hissed, covering her mouth with his hand. Then something changed in his eyes, and he looked almost unconcerned. Amused, even.
Draco. In her bedroom. Last night. She flushed around his hand, recalling the last time he had silenced her in just this way. He was already half dressed, obviously preparing to leave. She couldn't help the swift stab of hurt that made its mark in her chest. Had he planned to say goodbye? She nodded that she had recollected herself. He let go and began to button up his shirt.
There came a frantic pounding on her door. "Gin! Ginny, are you all right? What was that screaming? Are you being murdered?"
Ron. Ginny was horrified, pulling up the sheets to conceal herself. She stared at Draco in panic. "Quick, hide in the closet!" she hissed.
Draco looked maddeningly unruffled as he eyed the small closet with distaste. "You have got to be joking," he said disdainfully. He didn't bother to keep his voice down.
"Who was that?" Ginny heard Ron exclaim. The doorknob rattled, followed shortly by, "Alohomora!"
"What were you thinking?" Ginny cried in consternation at Draco, just as Ron and Harry barged in, brandishing their wands.
They both looked utterly astonished to see the tableau before them. Ginny saw them take in the situation: she was clearly naked behind the covering of the sheet, and Draco was dressing quite casually, apparently unconcerned that he was about to die. It didn't take a genius, or even Ron, to decipher what had gone on.
"You're going to get in trouble for using magic," Ginny told her brother, for lack of anything better to say. Draco looked at her with one raised eyebrow.
"Sod that!" said Ron. "What in bloody hell is going on here?"
"It isn't what you think!" Ginny said, assuming that their first thought would be that Draco had taken advantage of her, hurt her. "I love him!" she blurted.
Ron stared at her. Then, instead of shouting as she might have expected, her brother turned to Harry and quite calmly asked to be knocked over the head.
"It's not a dream, I'm afraid," said Harry sympathetically. He pushed his glasses up his nose with the hand that wasn't holding his wand
"I know that," said Ron. "And I'd like to be unconscious."
"You love me, do you?" Draco directed toward Ginny, his voice oozing skepticism.
Quite certain she was the approximate color of a beet, Ginny figured she didn't have anything to lose at this point. She nodded.
"When did I miss this development?" Draco drawled sardonically. "Just last night you were saying you'd never shag me again."
Ron emitted a strangled sound. Draco ignored him; all of his attention was concentrated on Ginny.
"Well ... obviously, I do like to shag you, but I love you as well," she mumbled. "Do you ..." She hesitated. "Do you like me? Other than just the sex, I mean?"
"Maybe," Draco muttered. He clenched his jaw and looked pointedly at the intruders, saying without words that any further discussion on the topic would have to wait until they were alone.
Ginny beamed. This was as good as confirmation. She pulled him down next to her and hugged him as best as she could, under the circumstances. She kissed his cheek for good measure.
"Harry," Ron whimpered.
"It's all right, Ron," Harry said. "It looks like things have worked themselves out."
"This," Ron gestured jerkily at the scene before them, "is not things working themselves out. If you haven't noticed, my sister appears to have been sleeping with our worst enemy!"
"As flattering as that is, I would think that Voldemort was your worst enemy," Draco remarked.
"He's right," said Harry, pocketing his wand.
"You stay out of this!" Ron shouted at Draco. "You ... get dressed right now and get out of here! Ginny, stop kissing the bloody bastard! Don't make me come over there!" This was clearly an empty threat as Ron didn't look the least bit willing to take even one step in their direction. "Malfoy -- for the last time, get off of my sister's bed and get out of my house before I wake my parents! You'll be sorry then!"
"Oh, Ron," said Ginny.
"Was just leaving, anyway," Draco said lazily. "I'll stop by tomorrow," he told Ginny, and she understood his full meaning. Last night, something had altered irrevocably between them; whatever they had, whatever they were, they would take the risks and accept the consequences. They would no longer be content to hide in the shadows as if they were ashamed, as if whatever they had would not stand up to the light of day. They didn't know what it was they had yet, but Draco was willing to find out, and so was she. Ginny nodded and squeezed his hand.
"No, you won't," Ron blustered in the background, but she barely heard him as she watched Draco throw on his cloak and pick up his broom.
Draco was halfway out the window when he turned back and looked at her one more time, unblinkingly, as if memorizing everything about her in that single moment. "Brown," he said. "They're brown like wet mud on the Quidditch pitch after it's rained." He grinned, then hopped on his Firebolt and was gone.
Ginny stared after him in surprise, feeling a strange weightlessness. She closed her eyes and replayed the words in her mind again.
It was the most romantic thing she'd ever heard.
= end =

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