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Promises	By : recension Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Ginny Views: 2750 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Harry Potter, all characters items and worlds, do not belong to me but to WB and JK Rowling. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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Draco's lips lit hers on fire. Tongue against tongue, Ginny had never been so lost. His arms were around her, one hand on her ass, squeezing, hanging on for dear life, and the other buried in her hair, keeping her head in position as his lips trailed down hers, down her throat, sucking and licking at her pulse point. Her blood was racing, throttling to the surface of her skin and she could feel the pulse of it in her temples.

His teeth sank in to the skin on her shoulder as he tugged slightly on her hair, devouring her most willingly. Her fingers found purchase in his shirt, tugging at buttons in a desperate attempt to free the body underneath. His hands made quick work of her skirt and she felt it pool at her feet as her hands fell to his chest. It was smooth, strong, still thin unlike Harry's: soft, sagging muscle and small pockets of fat. He broke contact with her neck to allow her more room to work, panting with contained enthusiasm as she unfastened his belt and the button of his trousers. Her hand reached into his trousers easily, seeking his cock. He was hard, already, fully hard, not in need of dirty talk or her mouth or fifteen minutes playing with her breasts the way Harry sometimes was. Hard. Now. For me.

"You sure?" he whispered, pressing his nose against her temple as if he could smell the blood underneath the surface.

Ginny didn't even think before answering, "Yes," she murmured, rewarded with his soft warm lips on hers again. Both his hands fell to her waist, and then her behind, lifting her easily onto the room's desk. She gasped at the new position and how quickly he spread her thighs and his fingers tucked aside her panties. He took no more hesitation, plunging inside of her, his face against hers. Draco's tongue rolled over her lower lip as she caught her breath, his hands guided her thighs to lock around him as she adjusted to the feel. When she nodded, his lips descended again and his hips began to thrust.

Harry's glasses were askew when he emerged from the sheets, grinning, "Good?" he asked, breathless and proud.

Ginny nodded, giving a giggle as Harry's lips were on her, tart from the taste of her, his tongue eagerly taking control while he pulled her further up on the bed. She could feel his erection between them, his boxers barely containing the strain while he ground his hips down against her bare sex, his arms pinning her back while he kissed his way down to her breasts.

"Harry?" she asked, taking a deep breath for courage.

He looked up, concerned he'd done something wrong and let her pluck his glasses from his face and place them on the nightstand beside the bed. She squeezed her knees around his waist and sat up slowly to cup his face, bringing him into a gentle kiss. "Why don't you take your boxers off," she whispered against his lips.

Harry's grin could light the sun while he pressed his lips against hers once more. It was the first time she'd made such a request and it was unlikely he'd ever forget it. "Really? You sure?" he whispered but barely waited for her nod before he bounced back onto his heels and tugged the boxers down and off his legs before settling between her thighs again, his thumb dragging through her folds and pressing in against her clit as he pressed the tip of his cock against her lips.

"Ready?" he asked, plunging his hips forward at her okay.

Draco held her firm as she began to shake, one hand around her back and the other pressing in at her stomach, controlling the angle of her waist. She finally let him have his way and laid back further, gasping as the tip of his cock nudged something inside of her, something that made her stomach to drop, made her toes numb, made every orifice tighten up as a heady groan spilled from her mouth.

It didn't take long before she was sweating, gripping at the desk beneath her for purchase as he increased the pace of his thrusts.

"Draco, I'm-" she whimpered in a sharp cry and he flashed a grin at her.

"I know," he murmured, letting his eyes catch hers. He didn't look away as he pressed forward once more before his thumb stretched to rub over her clit, small light circles like how she touched herself. She rocked her hips off the desk unconsciously, and his hands stilled all motion to let her body tighten and spasm.

She had never orgasmed like this before.

When she touched herself, and if she was in the right mood with Harry, it was quite easy to get to a crest, to feel warm and tingling and to fall apart and feel relaxed but this was something else entirely.

Draco ran his hands over her skin as she came down, stroking pale freckled flesh on her thighs and waist, kissing the center of her chest as she finally came down. He helped her sit up again, finding a balance at the edge of the desk and wrapped his arms around her, letting her cling to him in gratitude or something like it. Slowly, his hips began to move again, his knees bent and his toes pressing his body up against hers, keeping their torsos touching.

His face was milimeters away but his eyes–silver and bright–were staring directly into hers. Unwavering. She tightened her inner muscles against his cock, grinning at the result of his panted sigh and a murmur of, "Minx."

He thrust harder in retaliation, shutting his eyes finally as he let his nose press against hers, breathing in the same breath as she. "I'm about to-"

"-Come," she supplied, and ordered, and permitted with one breathy word, gasping as he pulled his hips out nearly completely before penetrating her wet sex once more, spilling inside of her.

They sat there for what felt like hours to Ginny. Catching their breath, bodies still entwined. Embers from an extinguished flame.

When her watch alarm chirped out, she shook herself from stupor. "It's nearly eleven," she whispered and Draco nodded, taking care as he slid from inside of her, dressing quickly as if he was suddenly hit with a loss of her warmth. He took care in picking up and dusting off her skirt, handing it to her but helping her fasten the garment when she had stepped into it. She was surprised at how tender and intimate it felt to have his fingers on the zipper at her waist in spite of the deed they'd just done.

"So I'm guessing this never happened," he murmured, running his lips across her neck and it took every ounce of strength she had not to shove him away.

"Of course not," Ginny said, surprised at how little will she had to agree.

Draco nodded curtly. "It's for the best. Off the record," he said softly, wetting his lips quickly before he pulled her close and steered her into a controlling kiss.

Ginny recoiled from the kiss somewhat forcibly and gathered her notebook, running her fingers through her hair before Disapparating.

Draco willed his heartbeat to slow when she was gone, tidying his new office as a distraction. Looking out on the now-empty pitch, he poured himself a glass of Ogden's Old and eventually found at least a little amusement in the situation.

He hadn't predicted things would go the way they had. Things had remained professional for most of the night. A few moments at dinner had lingered, including the signing of the check, but it was nothing inappropriate. At the pitch she had met the coaches, said hello to the team running drills and had mostly stayed out of the way to observe. She asked him a few last quiestions about his opinion on the team's chances in the upcoming season and then he had asked for a pair of Whiskwhips to be brought out from the store room.

He remembered finding it endearing how she tried to refuse the flight, how her hair shone brilliantly under the lights.

"What are you afraid of?" he mused, observing her as she considered an exit strategy. She insisted he look away as she mounted the broom, pulling her suit skirt up past her knees as she mounted but took off quickly and he kicked off to follow her. She was a fast flyer, and he wondered why she had wasted her time on an all-female squad like the Harpies. Then again, he also didn't know why she'd wasted her career by retiring early to have children.

Something about her seemed lighter in the air. Carefree. When she hovered in the air near a goal post, he pulled alongside her and looked over, "Thoughts?"

She nodded vaguely but didn't speak for a long moment, her mind elsewhere as she looked down at the pitch and up at the stadium lights.

"Do you miss it?" he finally asked, rewarded by her gaze.

"Every day," she said honestly, firm but quiet, as if it was something she was admitting to herself just now.

"I know it's not my place to say," Draco cautiously began, knowing she could reach him easily in the distance they were apart and he was pretty sure she had her wand on her person which greatly decreased his chances of escaping her temper, "But you look happy. And it looks like that's a rare thing for you."

"It isn't your place to say," Ginny frowned, flying quickly to the ground, dropping the broom as she headed for a stadium exit.

Draco was quick to follow, staying a few paces behind her as she turned down a corridor towards the administrative offices instead of towards a safe Apparation point.

"I didn't mean to upset you," he called after her, jogging to shorten the distance between them. "Maybe I just see unhappiness reflected in everyone else."

Ginny turned sharply on her heel and gave him a stare that struck fear in his heart the way only Narcissa Malfoy had been able to do before now.

"Who do you think you are? My life, my happiness is none of your business. You are a subject of a story, that is all," she grit through her teeth, taking a step backwards now that movement had ceased, "Less than if you consider what a coward you are. I should print that news about your divorce, you know."

"Good. You should. It's the truth and frankly I'd rather it come out in The Prophet than anywhere else," Draco said honestly, shoving both hands in his trouser pockets; he seemed glad that she was calming down. "And I'd wager to bet I'm no more a coward than you."

"How am I a coward?" she frowned.

"How am I?" Draco shook his head, "For someone who fought against prejudice you are certainly unwillingly to accept that people have changed, Ginny Weasley."

"-Potter," she corrected quickly.

"Potter," he allowed taking a step closer to her, "My apologies. I still claim you are a coward."

"How?" she scoffed, "I am not the one who fell back on the need for money and power."

"No, but you fell back on the need for ordinariness and family. You were a gifted witch. A fast enough draw to get the best of me once or twice and as I remember: a pretty decent Chaser. Now what are you?"

Ginny was clearly angry, her heartbeat had picked up and her cheeks were flush, her eyes alight with indignation.

"You may be fooling everyone else, Gin-e-vra," he drawled, letting his voice bounce on the syllables of her full name as he closed the distance between them, "But you can't bullshit a bullshitter," he murmured, mere inches away from her face now. "Ginny Potter, sinking in her own unhappiness. And Harry Potter, the Boy Who Saved Us All, letting her drown."

"Fuck you," she spat at him, more out of reflex than anger. Still, she didn't move away. Draco took that as an invitation and pressed his lips against hers. Pouted and pink, turned hot and needy. He pulled her into his office and the rest of the night, frantic and scorching, had just evolved.

Picking up the pieces of his shattered self, Draco felt as if a tornado had ripped through his system. It had been a long time since someone had gotten a rise out of him the way Weasley had. Then again it had been a long time since he'd had company he hadn't paid for in one way or another.

Draco was upset to find himself jealous, jealous of Potter. Ginny Weasley was, in no way, an appropriate match for the Malfoy name but that was part of the appeal. She had pure fire in her veins and she was belittling herself playing wife. She reminded him of Mother and of Astoria, a brilliant witch but always a shell to the name she carried, who also couldn't run away from him fast enough.

Lucius let his hand grasp the back of Draco's neck firmly as he pressed his forehead against his son's. Draco was petrified, properly frightened, for only the third time in his entire life. Mother was packing valuables, running around like the Manor was someplace she'd never been, completely lost. Lucius had resigned himself to the idea that most items would have to be left. He would trust in his protection wards and hope for the best.

Draco wondered idly about his own things, about what could be packed and how much danger they were really in. It had only been hours ago that he was attempting to kill Harry Potter and everyone who stood by him. It had been half-hearted, but there was nothing like the threat of death to light a fire under someone.

It was the same reason his mother could be heard shouting about her jewelry in the East Wing. It was the same reason his father held him clasped so close, whispering orders–instructions–his last will.

When they left Malfoy Manor a few minutes later, Draco managed to look back at the house he'd grown up in, his father's list of demands swimming in his head. "I should have put a stop to this," he overheard his mother whisper, stern and full of disappointment.

"Over you and I they'll punish Draco most severely," she hissed at her husband.

"Punish, yes, but if we are not the only ones to survive I am certain I won't live until dawn," his father snarled, at least attempting to keep quiet as they hashed out a conversation Draco wished he wasn't privy to.

"We all know what a pity that loss would be," Narcissa's biting tongue stinging as deep as her gaze. She reached out for Draco's hand and he felt small again, childlike in desperation as he clasped it. When their hands met, she pulled him along in Disapparation.

Draco didn't see his father until weeks later, when they returned to the Manor and began the trials. He never again saw his parents in the same room as one another alive or dead. Narcissa had forgone her husband's funeral; she had sent a polyjuice double in her stead.

Once at home, Draco took his time tugging clothing from his sore body in preparation for a bath. It was well past midnight but his mind was still racing. The look on her face, the gratitude of her orgasm, would hold a special place in his memories.

It never happened, he tried reminding himself, the definition of a one off, but nothing could cease his thoughts.

Draco was a man set in his ways. A lifetime of indulgence had only made him secure in his stubbornness. The rockiness of his adolescence had only set a foundation for the man he would become. The ideals he held dear: strength, reputation, quick-witted-ness, and power were ingrained since birth. They had just come to mean different things after the war. After his father.

He had made wrong decisions in his attempts to find solid ground as an adult; his marriage was one of them. It had been such a confusing time to be one of the remaining. The number of the dead, of the dying, and of the fled was mystifying. Draco was the first and only fully exonerated Death Eater to return to society and it had not been easy but marriage was political.

Astoria had been young, and beautiful but more importantly the Greengrasses had kept their noses clean. Astoria's father had died years before the war and there were only girls in the legacy. It was an easy match to maneuver.

Astoria had a way of making Draco feel light. She had been only seventeen when they married, and her view of love was simple. Easy. But as they grew older and more comfortable, as Draco leaned on her more, after his father's suicide and Scorpius' birth, Astoria began to pull away. When they had married, she had been full of energy and affection. It had taken years to get used to, but by the time he realized how much he loved her, it was too late.

They spent years in decline, fighting over money, over Scorpius, over Mother. Every day a new argument, sometimes with threats and thrown objects, sometimes with hexes.

He fought her happiness in favor of his own, and in the end it nearly cost her life.

Ginny stood in front of Grimmauld Place as it pulled from the surrounding walls. The night was chilly, and it was late. The street was quiet, most light's turned out.

She looked at the door and the stoop of her family home and took a long deep breath before climbing the steps. She didn't know how to open the door and face Harry. She didn't know why she felt such a strong urge to divulge everything in him, to get it off her chest and be done with it. He said he'd understood, but there was no way he would understand this.

She didn't even understand it.

It was more suspicious to flee, she reasoned, and focused on getting in the door. When Harry left for work in the morning, she'd figure it out then. She just had to get in to a shower and crawl in to bed. Simple steps. She slid her key in the door and pushed it open, surprised to hear her name called out by multiple voices.

The foyer was dark, but there was warm light coming in from the sitting room.

She shut the door and cleared her throat, "Have we got company?"

Harry responded with a happy, "Ron and Hermione came by for dinner! Come join us!"

Ginny was relieved that Harry was distracted for the moment, remaining in the dark of the hallway not three steps in the house, "I'm pretty exhausted, I think I'll just take a shower and head to bed, is that all right?"

She could hear the smile on Harry's lips, "Sure, of course. We'll try to keep it down. Hey- how did your interview go?"

"Yeah, how was the-" Ron started in, but Hermione's whispered discouragement had him finish the statement with, "-fine fellow?"

Ginny could hear how hollow her own fake laugh was but she was proud she managed one, "It went fine, no big deal. Night you three," she called out before heading quickly up the stairs and into the bathroom.

Switching on the light and turning the taps, Ginny began to strip her suit from her body, burying her soiled underwear at the bottom of the hamper and healing the more obvious bite marks on her skin.

Reflected over her shoulder in the mirror as she healed signs of her affair, she had never more detested the glowering tackiness of the photos on the bathroom wall; her smiling and giggling children in their respective first baths were mocking her and the guilt they brought on was both sudden, and crippling.

Sliding under the spray of her warm shower, Ginny took comfort in the fact that at least it had been Draco Malfoy. She could think of no one less willing to admit the affair. Scrubbing her body under the warm spray, she wondered if she would ever feel clean again.

"I don't want to lose you," Draco admitted, uncharacteristically tender as he crouched at her feet, so very much wanting to take her hand but knowing it was best not to touch her.

"You're losing me either way," Astoria whispered, hushed. Draco would never forget how beautiful she looked in that moment. Porcelain skin with rosy cheeks. Bright blue eyes. The darkest, softest hair. Her silver satin nightdress bunched around her body as she tucked her legs to her side, perched in a garden chair with a vial of the brightest green potion in her hand.

"Think of your son," she murmured. "He is watching me die, Draco. Here in the gardens or falsifying cheerfulness at your side. Which do you think is best?"

Draco felt the tears come before he could stop them. Glimmering in the moonlight, she had never looked so beautiful to him, and yet she was telling him he was the reason she could no longer find the will to live. He had no choice.

"Don't you think you're being selfish?" he brushed at his tears, angry at the stalemate, angry at his own emotion. He stood to his full height, hovering above her until she removed her thumb from the top of the unstoppered bottle. The fear that she might raise the glass to her lips calmed him, made his gaze soften towards her again.

"Don't you think you're being selfish asking me to stay?" she whispered, her voice clear in the night air.

Draco fled the Manor for the second time in his life, letting Astoria gather her things and move to her own apartment. They decided it was best for Scorpius to remain married, but live separate lives. Once he was old enough, two years later, the divorce was nearly settled.

Draco looked out on the gardens as he perched on the balcony of the master suite, looking over the meticulous gardens of the Manor, two stories above the terrace where his ex-wife had threatened her life. He let the smoke of his cigar fill his lungs and exhaled into the cool night air.

It was as if nothing, and everything, had changed.
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Promises