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Feel	By : bourbonrain Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Ginny Views: 25972 -:- 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.

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Disclaimer: I don�t own any of J.K. Rowling�s characters,
storylines, or genius.

Chapter 3

******

The dress Hermione sent her was pink. Pink and red hair. As
if she wasn�t enough of a wreck.

�At least, it isn�t green,� Malfoy had said when she
reluctantly told him. Green for envy. Very funny.

�Actually,� she had replied matter-of-factly. �Green looks
much better with red hair.�

Unsurprisingly, he was extremely sensitive to her tenseness
pertaining to the wedding, making sure to dig the knife in where it hurt every
time his Weasley-is-vulnerable radar sounded, which usually was before, during,
and after sex. Thus, the night before the wedding, hours after he turned over
and told her to get out of his room, she lay awake across the hall, unable to
sleep.

An hour after sunrise, she was back in the Burrow, with her
makeup already complete and her wet hair still wrapped in a towel. The wedding
party was due to meet at nine and she wanted to look perfect. Ginny Weasley
would not be a wreck during Hermione and Harry�s wedding. She would smile, hug,
kiss, and chatter with every ounce of charm she had.

This resolution was put into effect as soon as she apparated
to 412 Grimwauld Place.

You look so beautiful.

The dress is gorgeous!

Harry won�t know what hit him when he sees you.

Don�t you agree, Lavender?

Parvati, let me help you with the flowers in your hair.

Here, Molly�s pearls complete it perfectly. You know you
must have something borrowed!

Oh yes, they are lovely together. We all saw it coming, didn�t
we?

Look at the time, why Hermione, we still have to do blush
and lip color!

Mrs. Granger, your daughter is stunning!

Pink is a delightful color. She couldn�t have picked a
better shade for our dresses.

Beautiful. Lovely. Gorgeous. Delightful. And many
exclamation marks. Ginny didn�t know how, but she managed to use all of the
above as she felt a maid of honor should. She was exhausted as the priest
recited some sermon Hermione choose, but she forced herself to stand straight,
to hold her bouquet primly, and smile angelically upon the happy couple.

Unfortunately, Hermione�s chosen sermon proved to be
especially long and Ginny found herself spacing out. At one point, she caught
herself scanning the crowd and found a pair of gray eyes and a smirk fixed on
her. She immediately resumed staring at the back of Hermione�s veil,
unconsciously clutching her bouquet so hard that she cut her thumb from a thorn
the florist missed.

Fuck. What was he doing here? She realized it was a
high-profile, society wedding, but really, why Malfoy? Forcing herself to
resume the angelic smiling, she felt her face grow hot from his burning gaze.
He was judging her, appraising her performance. She figured everyone suspected
some underlying jealousy in Ginny Weasley, but he � he knew.

Finally, the sermon ended. Then, Padma got up onto a
floating podium, and sang a tearful love song for the lovely and/or delightful
couple. Ginny felt sick to her stomach. She couldn�t bear to look away from
Hermione�s veil, in fear that she might catch Harry�s green eyes and burst into
tears. She felt even sicker, aware that this marriage still bothered her this
much, now that it was occurring and all.

No one asked any questions when she disappeared after the
ceremony, because she reappeared in five quick minutes with such renewed vigor
and cheerfulness that no one suspected a thing. She was pulling through
alright, until Harry came up to her and asked to speak to her privately.

No, she thought immediately. Not here. Not now. But she cleverly took the opportunity to
question him severely as to why Malfoy was present.

�Harry! Malfoy of all people!�

�Ginny.� The way he sad her name made her heart skip. �You
know he was on the right side in the end. Without him, the war could have
dragged on for at least three more years.�

�But, his father -�

�He isn�t his father.� She tensed momentarily as his words
echoed Malfoy�s own. Ironic. �Listen, Ginny. I was there when he� when he
didn�t kill Dumbledore. He, he isn�t � Shit, Ginny, let�s not talk about
Malfoy.�

�Why are you defending him?� She pressed, afraid of what he
might say if she let him.

�Forget him. Ginny, I have to tell you this. After Ron died,
I just � �

�Oh, look! Hermione is dancing with her father! How
darling!� She cut him off before he sad anything dangerous. �You simply must
ask Mrs. Granger to dance.�

�But � �

And she had already disappeared, engaging herself in
conversation with Tonks and Remus. When she was brave enough to look to see
where Harry had gone, she was relieved to see him dancing with Mrs. Granger as
she had suggested.

�Well done, Weasley.� That drawling voice.

She spun around to find an infuriatingly haughty smile and a
hand extended, holding out a glass of champagne.

�Would you like to toast to the happy couple?�

�Why didn�t you tell me you would be here?�

�I thought I would enjoy the look on your face when you
figured it out for yourself.� He leaned in past her comfort zone. �And I did.�

She took the glass and walked away coolly. She wasn�t
obligated to deal with him today and honestly didn�t have the energy to.

Two banquets. And hours and hours of dancing. Of course, she
had too many glasses of champagne. Fortunately, she fit right in with the rest
of the guests, as well as a few reporters who had crashed the wedding. In a
strange way, she felt like she was back at Madame�s. With her mind buzzing
pleasantly, it was never too hard to sweet talk a customer, or to compliment
Cho Chang�s designer shoes, or to hug Hermione and then kiss her soundly on the
cheek.

But just as she had always been relieved when Madame said
she could leave, she was more than ready to go home at midnight and � And what?
Cry herself to sleep?

No tears came as she lay tossing and turning for the second
night in a row. Too buzzed to sleep, too empty to cry, she decided to do the
only thing that came to mind.

�I gave you the night off, Weasley.�

He was barefoot in a robe when he met her in the parlor.

�I know, but I -� She stopped mid-sentence as she approached
him. He reeked of sex. She stumbled back warily. �You�re fucking someone
else.�

�Did you somehow get the impression that you would get
exclusive rights to fucking me?�

�Asshole! How many girls do you have to go through? You have
a problem, Malfoy, You�re fucking addicted to sex ��

�And you�re an alcoholic. We�re not perfect, Weasley.�

�I am not an alcoholic!� She was yelling now,
trembling with rage. �You�re just fucking someone else to make me angry.�

�Right, because I was expecting you to be knocking on my
door tonight and catching me red-handed. And I use that phrase very lightly
because I am not guilty of anything since you had made it so perfectly clear to
me that you wanted the night off.�

�Who is she?� she asked before she could help herself.

�Some former Ravenclaw who threw herself at me at the
wedding. You know, some girls don�t cry every time I fuck them.�

�That�s not fair,� she whispered.

He didn�t answer. Now that he was witnessing the
ever-confident Ginny Weasley diminished to a drunk, desperate, pink-chiffon-donning
mess he wasn�t really quite sure what he could say to� to continue the
conversation.

�Is she still here?�

He cleared his throat. �Uh, no, she isn�t.�

�Right.�

Then, in a heaving motion that surprised even herself, she
threw up. He watched tiredly as she emptied her stomach of the countless
glasses of champagne she gulped down earlier in the evening.

�Jesus, Weasley,� he sighed, rushing forward to catch her
before she passed out. He quickly did a cleaning spell on his mother�s carpet
before ripping the dress off of her and incinerating it. She had been
absolutely breathtaking at the wedding, he recalled, even dressed in that
ridiculous gown. Needless to say, there was not and would never be an
unflattering word said about her regarding Harry. He wondered if anyone ever
saw her like this � broken, hurting, needing. Anyone, except him.

�Potter isn�t worth this,� he said to her unconscious form.
He isn�t worth you. But that thought was pushed so far back into Draco�s mind,
he convinced himself he never had it.

*****

The infamous morning after. She felt like such crap that she
buried her head back in the pillows and slept till it was dark again. It wasn�t
until the second time she woke up that she realized she was in Malfoy Manor and
that she had put on a ridiculous display in Malfoy�s parlor the night before.

�Weasley is awake.� Lispy remarked, approaching her
carefully. �Master Malfoy told Lispy to wait until you�re awake to feed you.�

�Oh,� Ginny said. �What time is it?�

�Half-past five.�

�Goodness, I should go home.�

�No!� the house-elf cried. �Master Malfoy told Lispy to feed
you when you wake. You must eat!�

�What? Is he trying to poison me?� she snapped.

�No! Master Malfoy would never do such a thing!�

Ginny rolled her eyes. �Look, Lispy, I really have to go
home��

�Lispy cannot disobey Master Malfoy. Lispy will have to iron
her ears!�

The house elf�s proclamations of servitude reminded Ginny of
Hermione�s S.P.E.W. tirade, making her even more impatient.

�Don�t iron your ears,� she snapped childishly.

�Then Weasley must stay!�

Without the proper energy to argue with an insistent,
self-threatening house-elf, Ginny gave in. When she had drank the potion, and
eaten enough for Lispy�s satisfaction, she found herself unable to apparate
from inside the manor, and unable to recover the dress she wore the night
before. The former was no surprise, but the latter a bit of a mystery.

Had Malfoy undressed her and put her in bed? After � oh god
� after she had thrown up in his parlor? And she had berated him for sleeping
with someone else. Fuck, why would she even care who he screwed? Why had she
even come here?

Then, at the best possible moment, he walked in.

�You may go, Lispy.�

�Where�s my dress?� she asked as the house-elf disappeared
with a pop.

�I burned it.�

�Oh,� she said in surprise. �Good.�

She found it hard to meet his eyes, especially when standing
in her knickers with yesterday�s makeup still half-on.

�Here,� he thrusted a package at her. �Go bathe and put this
on.�

�I want to go home for a bit.�

�Suit yourself. Be back here at ten. Wearing that.�

�Sure, okay, whatever.�

Sure. Okay. Whatever. Ginny cringed as the words came out of
her mouth. He�ll know he�s won now, she thought, wanting more than anything to
melt into a puddle and disappear.

She ended up flooing back to the Burrow. There, she received
an owl from Harry and Hermione, thanking her for the lovely tea set she had
bought them, inviting her to visit them on their honeymoon in France. All expenses
paid.

No fucking way.

She scrubbed herself furiously in the shower, angry at her
actions the night before and heart aching at whatever Harry and Hermione might
have done as she went to Malfoy begging. Begging for what?

She couldn�t go back to Malfoy�s place tonight; she couldn�t
bear to face him.

She did go eventually though, about two hours late. When she
returned to the manor, he was waiting for her impatiently.

�Sorry,� she mumbled.

�Is this another one of your attempts to make me angry so
I�ll fuck you harder?� He was reading, of all things, in the study when she
arrived. He was wearing glasses, she noted in surprise. Somehow, they made him
look downright �

She stopped herself before her thoughts took her to a
censored place. Fucking Malfoy was alright because she was getting something
out of it, but thinking that he was handsome was a whole new ballpark. And so
she didn�t. Didn�t think he was handsome, that is.

�Sure, why not,� she answered. �And you can use the
opportunity to prove just how unlike your father you really are.�

He snapped his book shut. She was back, and by �she,� he
didn�t mean the sobbing mess that came to his door yesterday. That Ginny
Weasley scared him � this one was manageable. Never mind the jab at his own
insecurities - he almost smiled as he took of his glasses and set them on his
book.

�I see you wore the dress.�

�Yes.�

�Well, aren�t you going to thank me for it?�

Was he serious? �Thanks for the dress, Malfoy,� she said
dryly.

The look on his face told her she had fallen into a trap.
�Oh, don�t thank me. Thank the Ravenclaw who left it behind last night.�

She reddened considerably as he completed his sentence.
Crack. Floor. Disappear. Now.

�Goodness, you really enjoy the whole kick them while
they�re down thing, don�t you?� she retorted after a few seconds. �If I didn�t
know any better, I would think you�re paying twenty thousand galleons so you
can play bully in your free time.�

Despite her considerably speedy response, she felt like her
skin was crawling in the other woman�s dress. She had thought it rather pretty
when she took it out of the package, and even felt slightly cheered as she
smoothed the caressing material and pulled it on before her bedroom mirror. The
color of dark jade and lined with gold embroidery, the strapless dress was cut
in such a way that her waist was hugged tightly, but the skirt came out of the
bodice in the most elegant manner. She felt classy, sophisticated � even
beautiful.

Ironic. It wasn�t just some other girl�s dress. It was some
other girl whom he fucked instead of her.

�I don�t care what you say, � he laughed. �I got you good.�

She rolled her eyes. �Fine, then go laugh about it with
Crabbe and Goyle and leave me the fuck alone.�

�Now, that wouldn�t be any fun.� He rose and made his way to
her. �Relax, Weasley. You shouldn�t feel the need to pretend around me. I
already happen to know,� his voice dropped to a whisper, �that you can�t wait
to get out of this dress.�

�You�re sick.� But not wrong.

She tensed as he came to stand behind her, lifting a hand to
stroke the side of her neck, the other wrapping around her waist. Is this how
he touched the other girl last night? She asked herself this over and over as
he kissed her earlobe, as he sucked gently on her neck, as he ran his hands
over her breasts and squeezed them gently before unzipping the dress.

It wasn�t that she was jealous. He just had a special gift
for making her feel cheap. For making her cheap. After all, when had Ginny
Weasley become just another girl to fuck?

She didn�t want the answer.

He pressed himself against her back, pulling her in by her
waist.

You know some girls don�t cry every time I fuck them.

And still, she couldn�t help herself. She trembled with sobs
as he turned her around.

He was bewildered again by the teary mess before him. He had
wanted to see her weak, he told himself. His goal was to make her like this,
only he hadn�t expected it to happen so soon. There was a reason the contract
was for a year. He hadn�t expected her to fall apart so quickly, before he was
ready to kick her away.

So he touched his lips to hers softly. She didn�t kiss him
back. Couldn�t.

This was only the fifth day of their contract and she had
already forgotten why she signed on. The money. Tuition. Becoming an Auror
without Harry�s help. She reminded herself desperately, but by that point, she
was so far gone, she barely noticed Draco Malfoy lifting her into his arms and
carrying her to his bedroom. She simply wrapped her arms around his neck and
cried. It didn�t matter that she was sobbing in her underwear on the enemy�s
shoulder � at least there was someone to hold her.

The tears soaking his shirt were her catharsis and the dress
lying on the floor of his study was the trigger. She was so sick of pretending.
Because the honest truth was that there was so much building up inside her that
she hadn�t known where to begin to let it out. She had been brave as her
brothers died one by one at the hands of Lucius Malfoy. Even Percy. And as
Molly lay sick in bed, pale and thin with grief, the bastard broke into the
Burrow and with two flashes of green light, killed both her and her husband.

He, however, did not leave the house alive. Later, ministry
officials told her the Death Eater had been killed by a muggle weapon, which
had launched a small piece of medal into his heart.

Curious, she had said. How something that small could end
such great evil. In the end, it had been Arthur Weasley�s fascination with
everything muggle that ended Lucius�s killing tirade.

Ginny often pictured that moment and replayed it in her
mind. Three figures in her parent�s bedroom. Molly was already dead. It was her
father�s turn now. But just as the green light emits from Malfoy�s wand, Arthur
lifts his arm and pulls the trigger.

And in an instant, he whom she hated and he whom she loved
were taken from this world.

Sometimes, she wondered how things would have turned out had
she been home at the time, if she hadn�t been at St. Mungo�s, helping with the
sick. Could she have saved them? Or would she be dead as well?

What if. What could have been. And why things are the way
they are.

And all those smiling faces at the wedding. As if they had
all forgotten already. Perhaps, they were all like her. Fakes. Facades. Shells.

At the wedding, Harry had tried to tell her. �When Ron
died��

It�s okay, Harry. It�s not your fault they�re gone. And it�s
not your fault you forgot me. When I can�t even remember myself.

She felt her back hit the softness of the mattress. Without
qualms, she pulled Malfoy down with her. These days, she had to remind herself
he was the son of the killer.

He was whispering, muttering to her between kisses. She
couldn�t understand him, but it didn�t seem to matter. He stroked her hair,
held her to his chest, kissed her tears. And in his warmth, her sobs turned to
hiccups and hiccups to slowed breathing. She soon closed her eyes and slept.

When her eyes opened, the sun had not yet risen. She was
cold, still dressed in her knickers. The lights in the room had been doused and
for a moment, she forgot where she was until she felt a hand on her waist
shift.

Malfoy.

He was facing her, breathing evenly, wearing the same
clothes he was in earlier, including his shoes.

She momentarily thought back to Molly�s disapproval of shoes
on the bed and before she knew what she was doing, she had pulled of his arms
and was removing his shoes. Then, she climbed out of the bed and began
adjusting the covers so he lay under them.

A year and a half ago, if anyone told her that she would be
the only Weasley left alive, that Harry would wed Hermione, that she would be
tucking Draco Malfoy into bed, she would surely have called them mad. And if they had told her she would unbutton his
shirt as he pulled her under the covers with him, well that would never have
crossed their minds.

The darkness shielded the vulnerability that came with
gentle touches. Every caress, every butterfly kiss, every time his thumb
brushed her cheek � the simplicity of his skin meeting hers almost made her
forget that this was Malfoy enveloping her in the softest sex she�d ever had.
This was only sex after all, she thought as he moved inside her. Somehow, the
statement came with a question mark.

The thought was lost as she felt that heady satisfaction between
her legs spread to the ends of her fingertips. He stilled momentarily as she
panted heavily against his neck. When she was ready, she kissed him, letting
him know to keep going. Her kiss signaled some kind of release, a steady
quickening of pace that left her breathless and writhing beneath him. Please.
Please. Please what? I don�t know. Just this. Oh god oh god oh god. Sweat on
his back. Buzzing on her lips from his. Arching. Kissing. Touching.

He came shortly after she did, slowing gradually, like the
propeller of a plane that has just landed. He rested on top of her afterwards,
like he did four nights ago when they were too drunk with wine and emotions to
move. When he pulled out, he stayed close, but didn�t hold her until she
reached out for him.

It should always be like this. Simple. Kind. Mutual
understanding.

Never mind the angry words. Or
the gruesome past.

�I lied,� he broke the silence.

It felt strange talking to her as
she rested against his chest. Would the darkness protect them from each other�s
words?

�I lied about the dress. No one
has ever worn it before you.�

�Then, why did you say she did?�
She sounded cold, distant, yet she was right there beside him.

�Because I wanted to make you
jealous.�

�You wanted to make me hurt.�

�No.� He pulled her in closer.

�He made you hurt. They did. My
father. Tom Riddle. Voldemort. Harry Potter.�

He held his breath. She seemed to
flinch with each name, but made no move to pull away.

�I�m not my father,� he said.

She thought back to Harry�s words.

I was there when he� when he
didn�t kill Dumbledore. He, he isn�t �

Isn�t what?

�I know you�re not,� she
whispered. �But you still hate us.�

He didn�t answer. So she wondered
if it would ever be this soft again. If this civil conversation would be
something they would both pretend to forget.

Afraid to find out for herself
the next morning, she pulled away and rose out of the bed. He didn�t stop her
as she left his room and went to hers.

What was he up to, she wondered.
And across the hall, he asked himself the same thing.

*****

End of Chapter 3
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