Warning: The usual potty mouth warnings apply to all male characters in this story, not just Draco. If this type of language offends, then please slow down and turn around. Thanks.

Author's Note: Okay, here's something new. It's got a snarky sense of humor, a psychologically intact Draco, and a pinch of angst. I'm going to post several chapters and see what readers think.

Chapter 1

Leave Me The Fuck Alone

He put his cool hands on her exposed shoulders, clad only in a thin spaghetti strap or two, startling her. She let out a wimper before scrambling away and taking the majority of the bedsheets with her. It was dark. Too dark to see anything except his imposing figure outlined against the light in the hallway.

"Ginny. Shhh… It's okay. It's me." No, her heartbeat didn't slow down nor did her breathing come back from wherever it had fled, but she forced her body to relax as she nodded her head. A second panic hit her, and she glanced over at the small clock on her bedside table. "No, it's not time to get up yet."

She could hear him kneeling down beside her bed.

"Listen, I've got to go out of town for a couple of days. I want you to come with me."

Her glassy, wide and dilated eyes were on him, sheets still clutched against her chest, breathing erratic. When she saw him looking at her expectantly, she nodded.

"Good. Why don't you go ahead and get dressed. I'll send the elves in to pack your things. We need to leave within the hour."

An hour later, dressed in her warmest Muggle woolen coat. She stood beside him as a portkey began that odd, familiar tugging behind her bellybutton. Moments later they were exiting a darkened alleyway and entering the lobby of an enormous hotel, bustling with visitors despite the early morning hour. No, she didn't know where they were or what they were doing there. She followed him through their check-in and up the modern lift to the top floor of the hotel and his suite.

He situated her in his enormous bedroom, instructing her to get some sleep before closing the door. She could hear him speaking to the guard who came with them, the one who would be by her side every moment of the day.

Some time later, after she had unpacked both of their suitcases, Ginny climbed into his bed, laid her head on one of the pillows, and closed her eyes, attempting to sleep as instructed.

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When he returned in the early evening, he threw off his Muggle jacket and his shoes and kept on walking, flinging open the bedroom door without notice. She startled, dropping the book she was reading onto the floor. He yanked off his tie, picked up her book, and tossed it to her before heading into the bathroom.

Her eyes were on him when he emerged minutes later and collapsed on the bed, running an exhausted hand over his face and closing his silver greys. He heard the soft rustling of her robes.

"No, don't go."

She stopped. He opened his eyes and saw her standing at the foot of his bed. He sighed.

"I'm exhausted. Let's order room service. What do you think?" When she nodded, he closed his eyes again. "Whatever you want."

Ginny walked over to the desk, picked up the room service menu, and held it out for him. He opened his eyes and saw her holding out the menu for him. After a cursory glance, he summoned the Muggle telephone and spoke in rapid Italian, ordering their dinner and throwing aside the menu afterwards.

Then he flipped over on his stomach and propped his face up on one hand, staring at her standing by the bed. "Come here and sit down. I won't bite, at least not this time."

Ginny sat down on the edge of the bed.


She slid over next to him, feeling his penetrating gaze on her every movement. No, he didn't touch her. He stared at her.

"What did you do with your day?"

Ginny held out her book for him.

"All day?" She nodded. He shook his head. "You know you don't have to stay cooped up in here. You can go anywhere you like, as long as Sam accompanies you. I don't give a damn. Just leave a note letting me know where you've gone and when you'll be back. Alright?" She nodded. "Good. And Sam has money for anything you fancy. Don't hesitate."

Later that night, he stuck his head into the bedroom and saw her sitting in the same chair, waiting and dressed for bed. He came inside and sat down on the bed beside her, his long legs stretched out in front of him, the tips of his socks touching the bottom of her chair, eyes not meeting hers.

"We're going to sleep together in here for this trip. Sam will be outside in the main room, but he needs to sleep, too. I'd feel safer with you in here." His silver greys glanced up at her as he finished his last sentence. She was staring at him in the way that she always stared at him. "I would transfigure a second bed for you in here, but I think it'd be just as easy if we used this bed. We're in a Muggle hotel, after all." When she didn't respond, he left for the bathroom.

She was lying in bed, her head on a pillow, staring straight ahead when he emerged, now dressed for bed in a pair of loose fitting pajama bottoms that he wore for her benefit. He turned off the lights and left the curtains opened, letting the glow from the city lights stream into the room.

When he slid in between the cool sheets, he left ample space between himself and her. Then he turned over toward her, staring at her pale, porcelain skin and spun silk with a twist of moonlight. He knew she could feel him staring at her, and he knew why she didn't return his gaze.

"Good-night, Ginny."

She took this as a signal to close her eyes and go to sleep. He sighed.

"Merlin, Weasley. Don't you ever say a damn thing?" Her eyes opened wide at the exasperated tone in his voice. She turned to him and spoke her first words in over six weeks.

"Good-night, Draco."

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(6 weeks prior)

Draco slammed his infuriated hand down on the nightstand, grabbing his wand. He was going to Crucio the goddamn bastard. Rolling his miserable arse out of bed, he stomped across the room and swung open the badly fitting wooden door to his hotel room, wand at the ready.

"Malfoy – "

"I don't want it. I didn't order it. Now leave me the fuck alone." He slammed the door closed. Only it didn't close due to the enormous boot wedged into the threshold. One loud grunt later and it flung back open, almost hitting him in the face. Draco reflexively leaned back, and that's when she was thrust into his unsuspecting arms.

"What the hell is this?" he asked, looking at the fully cloaked and hooded woman.

"She's yours." Draco's eyes widened.

"What the hell are you talking about? I didn't order a bloody witch." The wizard laughed, a deep, throaty noise that jiggled his oversized belly.

"Of course you didn't, you idiot. She's the result of your bet last night, the one you made on your last game of wizard's chess." Draco scratched his head and plundered his worthless Firewhiskey damaged excuse for a memory. When he came up empty, he stared at the strange wizard, suspicious.

"I did?"

"Yes, you did. Here. Her papers." Draco shook his head and shoved the papers back.

"Send her back. I don't want her."

"You can't send her back. Nobody wants her. You lost, you arsehole."

Draco shoved the wench aside and grabbed the documents, scrutinizing them over and over again. Yes, it was his unmistakable, if inebriated, signature on the wretched papers. Unbelievable. Unfuckingbelievable was what it was. He had come for a brief two-day stay in Bulgaria on business. The last thing he needed was to bring back some bloody hag that nobody wanted.

No wonder no one wanted her. She was a murderess who had killed a high-ranking member of the Dark Lord's elite Death Eating squad during the War. He was part of a wealthy and powerful pureblooded clan with a history of violence and dark magic. A wizard loyal to the Order had sheltered her, but when he was murdered two years ago, she vanished.

There was now a hefty price on her head as well as the head of whoever was harboring her. That unfortunate person was now Draco. He was bound by a magical contract to hold her safe until her sale to another owner or her marriage. The contract would be considered broken if she died by unnatural causes, and his death would ensue shortly thereafter.

Groaning, Draco nodded and shut the door, throwing every locking spell he knew on it. Then he looked at the hooded witch who was emitting an odor so foul and putrid he could hardly stand to be in the same room. Covering his nose with his hand, he grabbed her, turned on the shower, and shoved her in the bathroom. Then he locked that door, shutting the foul hag out of his presence.

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When he awoke on the last day of their trip, he was awash in red silk and honey. He nuzzled closer to her warmth, tightening his arms around her waist, and burying his face in the nape of her delicious neck. Good lord, she felt wonderful next to him.

A slow minute or two later, he reluctantly lifted his groggy, sleep filled head up and out of its bed of silk and saw her staring at him, eyes wide, body lying stiffly in his arms, not moving. Shit. He immediately withdrew his arms and untangled his body from hers before sitting up and raking an embarrassed hand through his tousled hair.

Then he groaned. Yes, he was accustomed to waking entangled in the company of various witches but not this witch, never this witch. He glanced over at her clutching the bedsheets to her chest.

"Ginny," he said, "I apologize." When she made no response, he threw off the bedcovers and left to start his day.

No, he never asked her, and because she never said a goddamn thing, he had no way of knowing what had befallen her during her incarceration and servitude over the past two years. He decided that he didn't want to know. Hell, even a bloody troll could take a fairly accurate guess. Yes, he was her new owner, but he wasn't a fucking animal, and he wouldn't treat her like one either.

Author's Note: Thanks for reading. Please stay tuned for the next chapter!