Fandom: Harry Potter
Rating: K; some language
Characters/Ships: Draco Malfoy, Ginny Weasley, Draco/Ginny
Disclaimer: I don't own HP.
Author's Note: It's a timeline all on it's own.
Ginevra Weasley let out an alarmed high-pitched sound before ducking into a giggling crowd of first years, trying to hide the pink heat filling those said cheeks.
Hunching as low as possible, she let two feet propel her further into the den of students, clutching a potions book against her heaving chest. Huffing, she began to suspect the worst: Draco Malfoy was impossible to get rid of.
"Hey! Oof- Merlin-" If Ginny had cared to look behind, she would have seen a blonde-haired boy sneering cruelly at scattering eleven-year-olds. "Watch where you're going, you intolerable asshats. Bloody midgets." However, all she could concentrate on was the salvation of the next nook in the hall or open classroom admitting her flamed face. "Hey, Ginny!"
A distracted Ravenclaw tripped over her damned toes and with a thump quills, paper, black thick ink and a few stray Every Flavor Beans decorated the stone floor, rolling in all possible directions. "Oh!" She exclaimed, bristling and flicking her wand over spilled staining ink. It disappeared in an audible sucking noise and Ginny frantically cast a cautious look over her shoulder.
Tall, lean, and cursing, Draco Malfoy had his wand pulled on a defenseless Hufflepuff who made the unfortunate mistake of existing in his path and not moving out of the way quite fast enough.
"Very sorry!" She blurted out before darting over the poor mess strewn about the floor.
"Gin! Wait right here and I'll be back to turn your fingers into worms. Ginevra!" His steps sounded close, the long strides eating up space between them.
Long fingers curled around the slope of her arm, twirling her around. Grey eyes and sly smirk greeted her, white teeth glittering. Draco Malfoy was impossible to get rid of. "Where do you think you're running off too?" Voice low and suggestive, each word ran along her spine like brushing feathers.
"Po-potions." She answered, knuckles white around the bound book. Eyelashes descended, releasing a hold, and Ginny stepped back. "Bye!"
With one swift move he was blocking her way, tugging his green-and-silver-stripped tie loose, Adam's apple bobbing. I see your smirk and raise you a grin, she thought dryly, watching his predatory smile almost with anticipation.
"What's the rush?" In some sort of ungraceful dance, he maneuvered forward even as she stepped back, knocking into oncoming shoulders.
"I'll be late."
"You'll be late and satisfied."
Another vowel sound left her throat, this one as surprised as it was angry. "Does everything ultimately come down to feeding your ridiculously sized ego, you prat?"
"Ultimately." He answered, tugging a curl of bright red playfully.
Enraged, Ginny swatted his hand away, elbow knocking into someone's ribs.
"Sleep on it, you pussy." Draco fired to the passing boy.
Ginny winced, eyes apologetic. "Sorry!" She yelped a moment later, arms wrapping about her waist and keeping her still.
"You're as clumsy as they come, Weasley." Warm breath traveled down her upturned face and against her lips, teasing.
"You're as prickish as they come, Malfoy." She quipped right back, pushing against the wall of his chest. "Potions!" She said in reminder and all that answered her was a rumbling laugh.
Draco Malfoy really was impossible to get rid of.
"You know you like it."
"You like me, Red."
Leaning in further and noses almost touching, he whispered. "Then why is it every time I happen to catch you, all you do is let me?"
Flustered, Ginny punched his shoulder and stepped back, lips frowning. "What? No."
"Look over here." He said suddenly, pointing to the right.
Fast and efficiently, he grabbed her hips and pulled, tucking them both into one of those useful little nooks Ginny had been so desperate to find before, lips pressing hard on hers. Unabashedly his hands roamed and his body crushed her in the small space, every angle and outline imprinted on hers.
Gasping, she pulled away, eyes hazy and surprised. In true form, he smirked and pulled from her pliant curves, hands stuffing in pockets, before turning and strolling away.