Title: A Dazzling Synthesis of Sun and Star
Pairing: Draco/Ginny
Word Count: 1617
Rating: R
A/N: The title comes from Nabokov's Pale Fire. This is unbetaed, so any mistakes are mine. Written in an hour or so because the plotbunny struck. This was originally supposed to be a Draco/Ginny/Harry, but I scrapped it halfway through and restarted and came up with this. :)



“Stay the hell away, Malfoy,” he snarls, his hands on either side of Malfoy’s head, effectively pinning him to the wall.

Malfoy tilts his face toward Harry’s and sneers, his face mere inches from Harry’s. “What are you going to do if I don’t, Potter?”

“I’ll break your fucking legs,” Harry snarls back, his eyes glittering from behind the lenses of his glasses. Draco has a moment to wonder if Harry’s have always been that glittery before Harry is being dragged away by the little redheaded girl. Harry allows himself to be towed away, but he shoots Draco a dark glare over his shoulder, to which Draco merely sneers.

***

She arches beneath Draco’s hands, purrs as his Quidditch-roughened fingers smooth teasingly over the curve of her breast and her gently rounded stomach. He traces the hollow of her hip, his eyes on his hands rather than her face. Her breathing sounds loud in the silence of the deserted room, although she’s been fairly quiet. Draco’s used to Pansy’s exaggerated moans and screams, and hearing the quiet catch in Ginny’s breath and the restless shivers in her body is far more arousing.

He lowers his head and trails his lips over her stomach, passes glancingly over her breast—just enough to make her drag in her breath sharply—and touches his mouth to hers. “You’re a very dangerous woman, Weaslette.”

Her eyes open slowly, and she looks up at him with a sultry gaze that he’s surprised she can muster. He never knew that the Weaslette even had a smidge of sexy in her until he got her in bed. “Believe it,” she murmurs, and winds her legs around his waist as she opens her mouth to his.

***

At the breakfast table, Harry grins at her as she sits down beside him. He leans over and kisses her cheek sweetly, tentatively putting one arm around her shoulders. She smiles, her eyes lighting, and leans over to brush his mouth with hers.

“Eww—could we please—not at the table? I’d like to enjoy the food, thank you,” Ron grumbles, and Ginny sits back and merely rolls her eyes. Harry grins at her, his eyes bright and happy behind his glasses, and Ginny feels guilt curl her stomach.

***

Tonight. Same time. Ginny unfolds the note in History of Magic, her fingers trembling. She folds it up again quickly, stuffing it into her bag and looking around anxiously to see if anyone has noticed it. Everyone appears to be leaning on one hand and staring straight ahead, completely lost in their own thoughts; or doodling absently on spare bits of parchment.

Ginny sighs in relief and her mind conjures images of what will happen tonight, and she shivers delicately, even as she tells herself not to.

***

She slips into the darkened boys’ Slytherin dormitory and makes a beeline for one of the beds. She crawls through the curtains, casting the silencing spell as she does so. Then she turns and sees that he is lying back, watching her. She smiles at him, but he doesn’t return the smile.

“Potter’s being an arse again.”

“And this surprises you? He doesn’t like you, Draco. You don’t like him. You think that’s going to change because you’re shagging his girlfriend? I seriously doubt it’s conducive to good inter-House relations between the two of you.”

“He doesn’t know about that,” Draco grumbles. “I’d probably be dead if he did.”

“Probably,” she says cheerfully. She tugs the clip out of her hair, shaking her head and running her fingers through her hair to get out the tangles. He watches her in silence, and she quirks her mouth at him. “You’re awfully quiet tonight.”

“Just thinking. Is that all right?”

She ignores the edge in his voice and crawls up toward him, stretching out on her stomach and propping her head on her hands. “What’s wrong with you tonight?”

“What’s your problem with all the questions?” he snaps back. “Can’t I just think?”

She blinks, and then pushes herself to her knees to glare at him. “I don’t know what the hell your problem is, but if you don’t get over it I’m going to leave. I don’t feel like dealing with your attitude tonight.”

“Fine,” he snaps back. But when she makes to move off the bed, he catches her wrist and tugs her back so that he sprawls half across him. He doesn’t apologize, but she doesn’t really expect him to. Draco Malfoy would never do such a plebian thing as apologize. Instead he traces his fingertips over her cheek and the outline of her mouth. Her eyes slide shut as he traces the tiny blue veins in her eyelids and down her nose.

“You do know how to get your way, don’t you?” she murmurs, but there’s no rancor in her voice.

“Yes,” he admits, his fingertip sliding down her throat.

She sits up abruptly, and turns to look at him. His hair is slightly tousled, his gray eyes heavy-lidded and soft with desire and sleep. She loves him in these instants, when he is not just a Malfoy but also just a boy. The night softens him—here he is not expected to be anything more than her lover. In the day, the light makes him harsh and hard, tightening all those long, loose muscles and hardening that mouth that she always wants to nip. She hates him in the daytime—hates his prejudice and his attitude and the fact that he’s a bully and a prat. But here in the night, she can forget what he is in the daytime and simply appreciate those lovely muscles under pale skin, and the way that his eyes always seem to be more soft mercury than cold stone.

Sighing, Ginny slides over and settles astride him, staring down at him. His hands instinctively go to her hips, and she lays her hands over his. Here in this small enclosed space, she is not betraying Harry or her family or her friends. Here she’s just Ginny, and Draco’s just Draco. There are no last names, no family hatreds, and no war. She leans down and brushes his mouth with hers, willing herself to forget her dark thoughts and simply enjoy.

As his tongue traces her lower lip, his hands slide over her stomach, pulling her shirt off. He trails one fingertip up her spine, and she shivers, her hand tightening on his shoulder where she braces herself. She can’t prevent the little moan that slips out as his mouth slips from hers and nips softly at the curve of her throat and shoulder. Her fingers unconsciously knead his shoulder, and she feels his chuckle vibrate his body between her thighs.

“Draco—“

“No,” he whispers, his hand sliding around to unbutton her trousers. “Let’s not talk tonight, Ginny.”

She melts against him, her mouth working at his throat as he struggles with her trousers. She giggles softly as he curses, and he lifts his head to glare at her. Then he rolls swiftly, trapping her beneath him. She laughs softly, her eyes heavy-lidded with desire. Draco tugs off her trousers and then leans down to press an almost chaste kiss to the swell of her breast.

She sighs softly, her head falling back as he presses kisses to her body. Her hands move restlessly over his smooth skin, tracing the shadows of muscles beneath pale skin. Moonlight filters through the curtains, dappling his back as he feasts on her body. She arches beneath his mouth, his name sighing from her lips, her fingers tangling in his hair. She slips over the edge slowly, buoyed by unexpected tenderness. When he slips into her, her eyes slide shut, soft little moans slipping from her mouth and her body undulating with his. When he comes, he presses his mouth to hers and she tastes his strangled gasp, savoring it on her tongue.

She lies beneath his body, trailing her fingers up and down his spine, content to listen to him try to regain his breath. She ignores the fact that she can hardly breathe, but he seems to sense the thought because he rolls over so that she’s draped over him. She settles her legs on either side of his hips and cuddles her head into his shoulder, her eyes drooping. His lips lightly brush the shell of her ear, and she smiles into the skin of his throat. As she falls asleep, she feels his arms come around to hold her, and she cuddles closer.

***
“I’m warning you for the last time, Malfoy,” Harry snarls. “I swear to God, I’ve almost had enough.”

“Oh please, Potter. You think you scare me with your Boy-Who-Lived routine? Save it for the whimpering masses.”

“That’s it, I’m—“

“Harry!” Ginny rushes up, her eyes flicking over to land on Draco for a scant moment before she turns her gaze to Harry. “Luna’s in the hospital wing!”

Harry swings toward Ginny sharply, his spine straightening with a snap. “What happened?”

“I’m not sure,” she pants. “Dumbledore is going up to see her now!” Harry turns on his heel and strides toward the hospital wing without another backward glance at Draco.

Ginny pauses and looks at him, and for one moment the memory of the night before is in her eyes—the shivering moonlight and the slow caresses. Draco’s mouth curves softly, and those eyes soften to swirling mercury. As he brushes past her with a sneer, his hand catches hers for a brief instant and squeezes her fingers, and then he’s gone.

Standing alone in the hall, Ginny raises her hand to her mouth and closes her eyes and sighs.