"Queer"
He'd done it. Draco Malfoy had actually asked a woman to marry him, a woman he knew his parents would definately disapprove of. He, the son of an Aristocratic Ex-DeathEater, was to be wed to Virginia Weasley, a member of the family his father loathed even moreso than the Dark Lord, himself, if one would go as far as to say that. Draco knew his father would not accept his choice, though part of him wished that Lucius Malfoy would not turn up his nose entirely, while a hidden, dark part of him wanted Ginny to mold to his Father's expectations. She never would, though. There was too much 'Weasley Pride' in her, too much love for her own family.
Now he was expected to go and announce his engagement before both his family and hers. Something told him - no, screamed at him - that the news would not be taken easily from either side and that he'd be genuinely lucky to escape the Weasley household with his life, or rather, with all his limbs intact. He felt his groin tighten at the thought. He could almost see Ron Weasley try to remove one of his balls - especially after he found out about the baby.
Groaning, he climbed out of the bed. Ginny had long-since fallen asleep, and though he often made time in the morning to sit and watch her rest, he forced his eyes away; he had to go. He grabbed a bag laying on the wooden floor, resting near the door, walked outside of the room they frequented at the Leaky Cauldron, and disapparated.
Auror training had started. While many on the training fields were a year or so younger than him, he paid little to no attention to anyone but himself and his duties. He was only in the first year of training while, already, Potter, Weasley, and Granger were in their second year, but were practically royalty when it came to the Auror 'crew.' They recieved favouritism while he recieved what could've been the toughest 'care' that was offered to anyone at the training camp. Nobody gave him slack - not that he expected, nor wanted any. The name Malfoy became synonomous with pain. Agonizing pain.
Training was long, hard, and difficult. It was strenuous, calling for tremendous strength of both body and mind. It was the only thing that gave him a challenge - other than Ginny, of course. Maybe that was why he could connect so well with her? They could challenge on another, like a one-on-one game of Quidditch. No mercy, no rest, no retreating.
But that - their happy little coupling - had to wait. Draco would be away at training camp for two weeks, and that meant no Ginny, Ministry administered "food," and a cold, hard bed. He wasn't looking forward to being at the camp; something felt different, unpleasant (even more than usual, Draco thought). When he arrived on the regulatory Apparation Platform and was given his bunking assignment, he understood why. He was rooming with both Potter and Weasley.
Inwardly, he felt his cool evaporating. That was all he needed - to be surrounded by the insanity that was Potty and the Weasel. Even with his cold, rock-solid, outlaying veneer, he doubted whether or not his mind and sense of self could withstand the heavy mental barrage he knew would come. He expected the worst, figured it would come sooner rather than later, and prayed for his sanity's salvation.
Stating that he was unhappy about the arrangement would be putting it mildly, in the least.
He stalked towards the barracks and searched for his assigned room. The search didn't last for long; he found the room with ease and threw his bag on a cot, claiming it for his use. Get a bed, then hurry up and get the bloody hell out of here, he thought. I don't want to fuck around with them until I absolutely have to. They were his superiors, at least, in the Ministry's eyes. If they plowed into a row, the Ministry would hear about it, and he would be put on suspension... if he was lucky enough to escape severe punishment.
He turned to walk back out of the door, but stopped when Ron Weasley appeared at the threshold.
"What the hell...?" started Ron. "You... in my room... Sod off, Malfoy, get out of my room, this isn't a bloody joke."
Draco stiffened but caught himself and forced his body to remain calm and collected. "My room, not just yours, Weasley." He handed Ron the room assignment he had been handed earlier.
Ron's face and ears glowed crimson. He scowled at Draco as he took and read the assignment and blanched down at the letters staring back at him.
"This can't be right. I'm not staying in a room with Draco fucking Malfoy, hell no. If the Ministry thinks they can order me around like that, they've got another bloody thing coming to 'em!" He turned and stalked out of the room, making a point to slam his boots as hard as he could against the linoleum flooring.
Though he was happy that his meeting with Ron hadn't ended with hexes being thrown or blood oozing from any orfice, he was still upset - but he wouldn't let anyone know that the meeting had affected him at all. It put into his mind all too clearly that telling the Weasley's about his and Ginny's union was not going to be an easy task. Not an easy task, at all.
He pivoted around the corner and launched himself into the hallway that was quickly filling with members of the Auror training program, ready to rid his head of all thoughts not consisting of strategy or how to get through the next physical task that training brought to him.
Ginny was back at home, resting in the room that she had grown up in, the room that held so many memories that sometimes caused her to cry when she was left alone. Thoughts were overwhelming things, especially for one so emotional.
Molly Weasley often asked where her daughter went to in the night. It wasn't as though Ginny had a home of her own, after all, and as far as they knew, she didn't have a boyfriend. After all, she'd never said anything about a boyfriend - it was a general assumption however, what with all of the pricely parcels that her daughter brought home. There was clothing, jewelry, the random oddity that was placed somewhere amongst the shelves lining the walls of her room. Molly pondered especially on the serpant necklace that she'd noticed hanging around her daughter's neck, pressed against the small area of her throat. Ginny kept it hidden quite well at times, but not well enough so that her mother would never notice it.
Where had it come from and what did it mean?
Surely there was an answer somewhere. Molly didn't doubt at all that there was a man providing these things for her daughter. A rich man, someone with money to burn... unless he was asking for payment, somehow. Thoughts flooded Molly's mind and images, so alive with the picture of her daughter, swam around her head. Was her daughter... was her little Ginny a whore?
Perhaps that would answer for the incident with the baby. Oh, that poor baby. Molly hadn't wanted her daughter to become a mother at such a tender age, but she didn't want her daughter to lose a child and feel such pain from the experience. She had never lost a child, herself, but her mother had. The loss nearly maddened the woman who was now in the ripest age of life, bordering on death and the sweet innocence that was being near senile.
Her daughter was no whore, though, she knew that for certain. Or did she?
Ginny stirred and walked steadily down the stairs and into the kitchen. She found her mother bent over the stove. Delicious scents filled the air and tickled Ginny's nostrils. She felt warm, enveloped by the comfort of home, by knowing that she'd always have a place to come to if things ever got too out of hand.
But then, the thought of telling her family about Draco brought to her attention the fact that she just might not have a safehaven anymore. She had to tell them, though. Her family had the right to know what was going on. Keeping such a secret from them was hurtful, something she'd never done before, except for the one time in first year, when she was being manipulated by Tom Riddle.
She wiped a tear away from her eye before it had the chance of spilling over and crossed to her mother. The woman gave a start when she noticed her daughter behind her and turned to give her a disapproving smile.
"Where have you been all night, young lady?" She was stern, wanting an answer, but realizing that she would probably never recieve one.
"Mother, I..." Ginny attempted a weak smile. "I have a friend that I want to bring to dinner." There, she'd done it. Well, not entirely, but it was out in the open that there was someone there.
Molly's eyebrows shot into her hairline. "A friend? For dinner? When!? And who?"
"Just... just a friend, mum," she said, looking away to keep her mother from staring her in the eye. "In two weeks. He'll be back from training, then, and..."
"Oh, so it's a he!" Ginny's mother shook a spatula in her face. "Who is it, Ginny? A aquaintance? A boyfriend? Is he the person you've been spending all your time with? Honestly, Ginny, do you want to get yourself into the same problem you had last year? I should advise against this, you know how I feel about pre-marital sex, don't you?"
"Mum!"
The older woman continued talking, repremanding her daughter for being so... so flighty and for being a scarlet woman as she had always put it. Ginny endured the conversation for several minutes before excusing herself and going back into her bedroom. Maybe her mother was right. Maybe she was being too flighty with Draco. Maybe they needed to cool things down for a bit and just wait it out?
Thinking made her tired. She laid down on her bed, clutching a pillow to her chest, wishing that Draco was with her, beside her on the rather small bed that occupied a corner of her room. Ginny fell into thought until thought became sleep and the only thing she saw was the black of oblivion.
His two weeks were up and Draco was ready to go back home. He was exhausted - almost to the point of wanting to crash onto his bed in his own bedchambers at the Manor and sleep for a week straight, but he fought his need to rest and settled his mind on the thought of Ginny.
He missed her touch, especially during the cold and lonely night hours in which he feared for his life, though he would never admit it to anyone. Ron hadn't been allowed to change rooms, and Potter was less than thrilled to find that they were sharing a room with their once arch-nemesis. Their lack of enthusiasm on the subject resulted in many-a death glares, mutters and suspicion.
Little did either of them know that Draco was soon to join the Weasley clan by marriage.
The urge to tell them simply to see the looks on their faces tempted Draco, but he kept his mouth closed and his tongue well hidden from even his own use.
He talked even less than he did while at the Malfoy Manor, and that was definately saying something.
His apparation to the Leaky Cauldron was fast and brought a strange sense of release to him. The thought of seeing Ginny sent shivers through his body and he became aroused, remembering the smell of her, her touch, her kisses. After giving Tom a nod, knowing that his room had already been arranged and that Ginny was most likely in there, waiting for him, pushed him up the stairs and into the room faster than his legs had ever carried him before.
The door to the room was open just a crack. He pushed it aside and stepped through.
Ginny was laying on the bed, very scantily clad, touching herself in naughty places.
Draco groaned and felt a fire surging between his legs. He dropped his bag on the floor, slammed the door shut and launched himself onto the bed.
They shared a sweet, longing kiss. A kiss from memory, filled with passion, need, and want. Ginny unbuttoned her lover's shirt and slid it down, off of his arms, letting her hands run on his soft, taunt skin. He unbuttoned his pants, slid them off, and threw them aside.
He tore of her very daring garment and tossed it across the room.
Their touches were fire-driven and mad with hunger and longing. Draco slid his hands up and down the length of her, touched between, tickling, teasing. His tongue played soft tricks on her flesh, lapping at sensitive areas and his mouth felt smooth and warm against her aroused self.
He pulled of his undershorts and slid the length of him inside her, a familiar place that still caused the burning within him. Ginny screamed and clawed at his flesh, digging her face into the nook between his shoulder and neck, biting, sucking, kissing.
They made love like it was the last time they'd ever see eachother again and when, finally, they were spent, they lay on the bed next to one another, entangled in eachother's embrace.
Ginny smiled at her fiance and kissed him on the nose.
"What was that for?" he asked, letting his fingers drag along the length of her bare arm.
"Nothing." Ginny squirmed, tickilish to his touch.
He sighed. "You're up to something, I know. What is it?"
"I, uhm." Ginny stared at him, all playfulness gone from her eyes. "I told mum that you're going to come over for dinner.""
Draco felt as though a stone had been dropped into his stomach, one that couldn't come unstuck. "...Why the hell'd you do that?!"
"I don't know!" she said. Draco grunted. "But they know something's going on and I have to let them know before it eats away at me."
"Fine," said Draco. "But I have to tell my parents, first. I don't want them to know second-hand. The last thing they'd need is for Ron Weasley to walk up to my father, punch him in the nose and try to hex him into tomorrow with my Father only wondering what the hell it was for."
"So... dinner at the Malfoy's first?"
"Mhm." His face became set, as if chisled in stone. "Dinner with the Malfoy's first."
Hey boy, take a look at me
Let me dirty up your mind
I'll strip away your hard veneer
And see what I can find
The queerest of the queer
The strangest of the strange
The coldest of the cool
The lamest of the lame
The numbest of the dumb
I hate to see you here
You choke behind a smile
A fake behind the fear
The queerest of the queer
This is what he pays me for
I'll show you how it's done
You learn to love the pain you feel
Like father like son
The queerest of the queer
Hide inside your head
The blindest of the blind
The deadest of the dead
You're hungry cause you starve
While holding back the tears
Choking on your smile
A fake behind the fear
The queerest of the queer
I know what's good for you
I know you're dying to
I know what's good for you
I bet you're dying to
You can touch me if you want
You can touch me if you want
You can touch me
You can touch me
But you can't stop.