Unaffected

Chapter Sixteen

Draco awoke with a blinding headache. The sunlight streaming in the room wasn't helping things, either. He pressed a pale hand to his forehead and winced. I'm never going to touch another glass of fire whiskey again! He vowed silently. He squinted against the light and turned his head, his eyes falling on a large, oak dresser. He sat up so quickly that he felt a sharp stab of nausea.

He was in a woman's bedroom, that much was obvious. Lacy curtains hung at the window, and the coverlet that was warming him was a buttery yellow color. The pillow he'd rested his head on was large and fluffy, and the same lace that hung at the windows was sewn onto the side of the pillow. He blinked hard. He recognized this room, now that the cobwebs were clearing from his brain.

It was Ginny's bedroom.

He looked down and was worried to find that he was clad only in a pair of sweatpants. He stood and cursed silently; his head was swimming so badly that it was making it difficult to move. He stumbled out into the hallway, and stopped abruptly when he heard singing. He followed the sound and stopped in an open doorway, peering inside. He had to bite down on the inside of his cheek to keep his laughter from spilling out.

Ginny was inside Lily's room with the bottle of Magical Mess Remover and a purple bandana wrapped around her copper hair. She scrubbed it on the wall vigorously; so hard, in fact, that it made Draco's arm hurt just watching her do it. She was singing as she cleaned, and her cheeks were flushed. He wondered how long she'd been at it - Lily's room was almost spotless. The toys were put away and the bed was made; the carpet had been washed and vacuumed. It seemed now that she was doing the last thing needed in the room: scrubbing the colorful artwork off of the wall.

"You know," he drawled softly, his head screaming as he did so. She dropped the washcloth in surprise and whirled around to face him. "You really shouldn't erase such precious artwork. You're stifling her creativity." She arched an eyebrow and smirked at him as she bent to retrieve the cloth.

"I thought I was only stifling her creativity if I didn't let her color on the walls in the first place," she said snarkily. He grinned, and she scrubbed again. He saw beads of perspiration making their way down the sides of her face, onto her neck. He was suddenly possessed of the urge to lick it off, but managed to keep himself rooted to the spot where he was standing.

"I thought that parents were supposed to love their childrens' artwork," he murmured, taking in the entirely clean state of the room. It was too clean - almost hospital clean. It wasn't right; it didn't feel like the little girl that he knew lived there. He smiled to himself. It wouldn't be this clean when she got home, he knew.

"I do love my daughter's artwork," she said, sounding annoyed. "As long as it's on paper!" He laughed softly, which was followed by a groan. She turned and eyed him thoughtfully, then put the cloth down and got to her feet. She brushed herself off and moved past him into the bathroom across the hall, where she washed her hands. She came back out into the hall and smiled at him.

"How are you feeling, special boy?" He blinked, and her grin widened. "So you don't remember last night?" He frowned.

"Uhh... should I?"

"Draco," she said, pouting playfully. "I can't believe you really don't remember our wild night together in my bed!" His cheeks flushed, but he still looked confused.

"I thought I fell asleep on your couch," he said honestly. She giggled.

"You did," she said, rolling her eyes. She started towards the stairs. "Come down to the kitchen and I'll give you the famous Potter hangover remedy."

"Which Potter is it famous for? You or..." She laughed.

"Draco, I don't think you have to worry about it. Even if Harry had been the one to make it, he isn't here now to know you're taking it, so I'm sure it would be safe. But since you ask, I make it."

"Did he really get drunk that often?" he asked curiously, sitting down at the table. He watched her open a cabinet and take out a stoppered vial full of pink liquid. He watched with growing apprehension as she took out a shot glass and filled it with the liquid, then sat it on the table in front of him.

"Let's put it this way," she said, sitting down in front of him. "He got pissed often enough with my brothers that I used to have to make bucketfuls of the stuff." He grinned.

"I didn't think Potter had it in him," he said, chuckling. He stared into the shot glass, then picked it up and sniffed gingerly at it. It was odorless. He arched an eyebrow at her over the top of it, and she gave him an innocent look. "I don't know if I trust you enough to drink this."

"Just like you didn't trust me enough last night to sleep in my bed?" He blinked.

"How did I get into your bed, anyway?" He threw his head back as he downed the shot. Surprisingly it didn't taste too bad; it had a slight trace of sweetness, although he couldn't figure out what it was. Almost immediately the nausea was gone, and his headache disappeared as well. "Wow. You ought to sell this stuff. You'd be rich, you know."

"I have no desire for more money," she said, waving her hand dismissively. "And you found your own way into my bed last night sometime around twelve thirty. I woke up and you were laying next to me, on top of the covers."

"Nothing happened, then?" he asked uncertainly.

"Nothing happened," she agreed. "Unless you count me undressing you." He coughed and his face turned red as she grinned wickedly at him.

"You what?"

"I had to undress you. You looked so uncomfortable in those slacks and that button-down shirt."

"Well, I don't remember bringing clothes with me. Whose pants are these?" The blush that spread across her cheeks was his answer. She winced.

"Are you angry with me?"

"No; to be perfectly honest, I'm kind of flattered."

"You are? Why?"

"Well, I..." he fumbled for the words, and she bit her lip. "I suppose it's because I know how much you must have loved him, and you still miss him, but you let me wear something of his."

"I didn't-" she stopped herself, surprised. She'd been about to tell him that she hadn't thought of Harry when she grabbed them; she'd just gotten them and helped him into them. She frowned slightly. She hadn't been thinking of Harry. A small wave of guilt washed over her, and she sighed.

"You all right?" he asked, feeling awkward. He was suddenly remembering the argument they'd had yesterday, and he was pretty sure that showing up at her house drunk hadn't been the best way to go about apologizing for it.

"I'm fine," she said, standing. She went to the stove and pulled out a teapot, then went about the motions of making tea. He saw her reach for a tin canister and wondered why it was familiar.

"I'm... I didn't mean to get drunk and crash here last night," he said quickly. Well, it wasn't quite an apology, but it was a start, anyway. She turned and gave him an odd look.

"I didn't mind." She paused thoughtfully for a moment. "I'd rather you come here and crash than try to apparate home and splinch yourself."

"Malfoys do not splinch themselves," he said dryly. She smiled and rolled her eyes as she turned back to the tea. "I didn't... did I say anything last night that may have been potentially damaging or detrimental?"

"You mean besides confessing your undying love to me?" she teased. It was his turn to roll his eyes.

"I'd remember something like that."

"Oh you would, would you?" She sat in front of him and waited for the water to boil. He arched an eyebrow and his fingers drummed against the tabletop.

"I would. And why don't you just use magic?"

"You wouldn't, and I like the routine."

"Women," he muttered. She grinned.

"So, are you hungry? Hangover sufficiently reduced enough to-" she was interrupted by a loud crack in the other room, and exchanged a curious glance with Draco. They both got up and went into the sitting room, where Fred was lowering himself onto the couch. He looked up as they came in.

"Wotcher," he said, nodding. A wicked grin spread across his face. "So you two are already playing house, then?" Ginny blushed and Draco laughed.

"Not quite," she said. "What brings you here so early in the morning?"

"What, a guy can't visit his sister and her lover without having an ulterior motive?"

"He's not my lover, and yes, you do have to have a motive."

"Why do you think that?"

"My house hasn't been this visited since the week after Harry died." She folded her arms over her chest and tapped her foot on the floor. Fred nodded to Draco.

"This is what she calls her evil look. Used to scare the bejeesus out of Harry. He just didn't know it like the rest of the family does. Don't let her intimidate you with it, either." Draco started to laugh, but clapped a hand over his mouth when Ginny shot him a withering glance.

"What do you want, Fred?"

"Relax, ickle Ginnykins," he said, shaking his head. "Mum wanted me to invite you over for lunch. Lily is helping her bake and they wanted to show it off to you, I think." Draco's eyes lit up.

"Who else is going to be there?" she asked.

"Just family. Me, you, Blaise, Ron, and Mum. And Loverboy here is invited, too."

"He is not loverboy, and would you cut that out?" she asked, frustrated. He just shrugged and stood.

"She said be there around noon." Another loud crack sounded, and he was gone. She turned to Draco.

"I'm sorry about that," she said, smiling ruefully. He shrugged, trying not to look bothered by her quick denial. He wouldn't mind being known as her loverboy. He wondered why she had objected to it so quickly.

"It really doesn't bother me," he said coolly, lowering himself onto the couch where Fred had just been. "I don't really care what people say about me anymore." She stared at him, then shook her head slowly.

"If you meant that, you wouldn't have gotten so upset yesterday." Her voice was soft but insistent.

"Look, about that," he started, leaning forward. She sat down beside him and shook her head.

"Don't, there's no need. You apologized to me last night, and I apologized to you." He looked mildly impressed.

"Why did you apologize to me?"

"For jumping on you like I did. I just spouted off my self-righteous statements and left without giving you a chance to defend yourself. I was..." she took a deep breath. "I was hurt."

"Hurt?" he asked, bewildered. "Not mad?"

"Mad, yes, but not nearly as much as I was hurt."

"Why?"

"I was upset that you said there could never be anything between us." Her cheeks were crimson, but she was looking him in the eye. His stomach began doing somersaults.

"Do you want there to be something between us?" he asked cautiously.

"I was rather hoping..." her voice trailed off, and she cleared her throat. She licked her lips nervously and sighed. He leaned forward slightly, and her heart jumped into her throat. His face was just a fraction of an inch away from hers, and she found herself staring at his lips, willing them to close the slight distance between them and her own.

"Me, too," he said, his breath hot on her lips. Her eyelids fluttered closed, and he kissed her gently. She lifted her arms and wound them around his neck, and he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer.

The kiss remained chaste until he touched his tongue to her lips, teasing them apart. Their tongues brushed against each other gently, and she tangled her fingers in the back of his hair, absentmindedly stroking the nape of his neck with her thumbs. He shivered and slid a hand up behind her head, urging her closer.

He moaned and increased the intensity of the kiss, pressing his mouth harder against hers. She was suddenly painfully aware that he was not wearing a shirt, and the heat emanating from his bare skin was beginning to make her feel as though she was on fire- or was that sensation being caused by the movement of his mouth on hers? She wasn't sure, but she knew that if she didn't break the contact soon, she wouldn't be able to break it at all.

She pulled away slightly and tried to catch her breath. Even though he was breathing raggedly as well, he didn't let go, simply holding on to her until she dragged her eyes up to meet his. His smoldering expression made her shiver as the hand that had been tangled in her hair slid around to cup her cheek.

"Do you have any plans today?" she asked breathily. He shook his head. "Want to come to the Burrow with me?"

"I'd love to," he said, his voice trembling slightly.

"Good," she said, brushing her lips lightly against his. "I think we need to make up for time lost yesterday, due to the fact that we were both gigantic twits." He laughed.

"What about you?"

"What about me?" she asked, finally pulling away from him, and rising to her feet.

"Do you have any plans for the rest of the week?" she stared at him, then shook her head slowly.

"No. Lily and I were just going to spend some much-needed time together. I really don't get to see her as much as I should."

"Would you mind terribly if I inserted myself into your life for a week?"

"Just a week?" she blurted. She immediately clapped a hand over her mouth and turned scarlet. He arched an amused eyebrow at her.

"Why, Ms. Potter, are you implying that you like my company?" She laughed.

"Whatever on earth gave you that idea?" she asked, rolling her eyes. His eyes were twinkling, and she thought she had never seen anything like them. They weren't how she remembered his eyes being that first day he'd stepped into her office. They were... warm.

Draco smirked. "Maybe the way you're practically begging me to stay forever."

"I am not!" laughed Ginny.

"Well, whyever aren't you?" Draco said, sweeping her into his arms and leaning her backwards. "I'd say yes."

Ginny's jaw hung a bit loose and they stared at each other as time seemed to stop for an endless still moment. Finally she cleared her throat and said, "I'll think about it."

"You do that," he said, dropping a feather-light kiss on her lips before pulling her to her feet. "But for now let's get to the Burrow before I decide to ravish you in spite of that horrid rag on your head."

"What?" she asked, looking offended. "I'll have you know that I adore this bandana!" He smirked as he released her, heading into the kitchen.

"Must have been a gift," he said, moving to the whistling teapot and removing it from the stove. She put her hands on her hips.

"As a matter of fact, mister smarty-pants," she said bitingly. He laughed and poured them both a mug of tea, then handed her one. "As much as I adore seeing your bare chest- and believe me, I do adore it- you're not going to wear that to lunch with my family, are you?"

"Oh, I don't know, I think your mother might like it."

"No, she-" she stopped for a moment. "All right, she might, but my brothers wouldn't!"

"You just don't want me to be eye candy for Zabini," he teased. Her cheeks flushed, and a wave of warmth rolled over him. She was jealous!

"Wouldn't want Ron to beat you into a pulp because his affianced is ogling you," she murmured into her mug, before sipping at it. He reached out and grabbed her hand in his, giving her an earnest look.

"Even if the Queen of England was ogling me, I wouldn't have eyes for anyone but you," he reassured her quietly. The color in her cheeks heightened, and he could feel himself blushing as well. He'd never been so openly flattering for honest reasons before. "Besides, your brother could just as soon as beat me into a pulp as he could outfly me." She laughed.

"Ah, the traditional male insecurities," she said, rolling her eyes. "Please spare me! But really, you're going to change, right?"

"Where are my clothes from last night?" he asked, letting go of her hand to lift his mug to his lips. She coughed and spluttered, and he lowered the mug to give her an apprehensive look. "Ginny Weasley Potter, is there something that you need to tell me?"

She mumbled something incoherent and tried to flee the room.

He jumped out of his chair and reached for her, grabbing her around the waist. When he did, he knocked them both off balance, and they tumbled to the floor in a pile of tangled limbs. Their pained laughter filled the tiny kitchen.

"You didn't really think you'd get away that easily, did you?" he drawled. She rubbed the top of her head as she lay on her back on the cold linoleum.

"Yes, actually, I did." He chuckled.

"What did you do to my clothes?"

"I didn't do anything," she said defensively, deliberately not making eye contact. He propped himself up on his elbows and peered curiously at her.

"Okay, so what did I do to my clothes, then?"

"You really shouldn't drink that much fire whiskey on an empty stomach," she said, sitting up. She still wasn't looking at him.

"What? How would you know if I had an-" he froze. He paled. "Oh. OH. Shit."

"I tried to clean them by magic, but it didn't work. I threw them in the washing machine this morning, but when I went to get them out, the smell-" she wrinkled her nose, then shot a sideways glance at him.

"Damn," he said, shaking his head. "And those were my favorite pants, too."

"Well..." she said slowly. "If you wanted to borrow something of Harry's, I wouldn't mind." He eyed her face cautiously. "I mean, if you wouldn't mind, either. I didn't stop to think last night that you wouldn't want to wear something that belonged to him."

"I wish you hadn't put these on me," he said. She jerked her head up to look at him. "I would rather have been naked and woken up believing we'd done something wild and outrageous." Her face relaxed into a smile, and she slapped his arm.

"You're such a slut," she teased. He smiled as he shrugged.

"I really don't mind wearing his stuff, if you don't mind. I'll return it all in good condition." She bit her lip and looked down at her lap.

"You can keep it if you want," she whispered. He looked at her in surprise. "It's probably time that I let it go, anyway."

"Gin, I'm not replacing Harry," he said gently, covering her hand with his. "I'd be lying if I said I didn't mind sharing you with a memory, but I don't expect you to totally overhaul his memory for me."

"I know you're not trying to replace Harry," she said, smiling at him. "But if I'm going to move on with my life and have any sort of a future, I need to let him go." He nodded and stood, then stretched his hand out to her. When she was standing in front of him, he folded her in his arms and gave her a tight squeeze.

"You're amazing, do you know that?" he whispered. He dropped a light kiss on the top of her head, then pulled away. "Yes, if you don't mind, I would very much like to borrow some clothes." She smiled.

"Well, let's get you dressed and over there. I'm sure Lily will be more than happy to see you."