Draco's Dilemma

Draco had received Ginny's owl the previous night, telling him she'd Floo into the hotel at eleven on Tuesday morning. It was the same hotel she'd been staying at before moving to the Mansion. Her twin brothers, Fred and George, were visiting her later in the week for a few days, she explained, which is why she'd need to stay at the hotel. Apparently, they were interested in opening another of their shops in Edinburgh. Would he be able to meet her at the hotel on Tuesday morning?

He felt as though he'd moved out of darkness into the brightest light as he finished reading her letter, hastily sending a return owl assuring her he could meet her as requested. Anytime, anywhere! he'd thought deliriously, then had immediately packed a bag, hardly sleeping that night due to excitement, wanting only for the next day to dawn as quickly as possible.

And so here he was. Waiting for her.

Carrying his half drained glass of Firewhiskey, he returned to the balcony. She'd told him she'd booked adjoining rooms for herself and her brothers (who were due to arrive Thursday morning) on the fifth floor.

When Fred and George had inquired as to why they couldn't stay at Magus Mansion with her, Ginny had simply told them there wasn't room and since they had no reason to not to believe her, they accepted this. (The Weasleys knew Ginny had taken rooms at Magus Mansion - although Ginny had intimated to her family that the owner was a rather eccentric recluse whom she hardly saw and that she didn't think he'd be very enthusiastic about guests, either, to say the least.)

Draco prowled the suite incessantly, going from the balcony, to the bedroom - where he looked at her photo - then back to the balcony...until at last, finally, the stately grandfather clock chimed eleven. He put his now empty glass back on the bar and stood watching the door, waiting. Despite the fact he was expecting it, he still jumped when he heard her knock.

He crossed quickly to the door, pausing for a heart-beat before pulling it open.

She stood there...smiling, her hair held back with a black Alice band, falling in luxurious red waves down her back.

She stood there...wearing very light make-up, her slim figure outlined in a fitted, cream jumper and black pants.

She stood there...stealing his heart all over again and causing him to suffer a stomach-twisting hunger for her.

'You're back.' He sounded as though he couldn't believe it, despite the evidence of his eyes.

Ginny laughed as she flung her arms around his neck, her soft lips finding his in a lingering kiss that swept away all the doubts he'd been nursing since she'd left. As he revelled in the sensations racing through his veins like quicksilver at the feel of her mouth on his, he felt as though the world suddenly burst apart only to immediately compress again so that it contained just the two of them and no one else.

Then as their lips parted, their breathing shallow and uneven, Ginny whispered breathlessly, 'I can't believe how desperate I've been to see you again.'

Ginny had indeed woken that morning, surprised at the strength of her own feelings when she'd thought of being reunited with Draco once more. She was astounded at how delighted and happy she felt about it. But as usual, she didn't pursue these thoughts any further along the shadowed paths they inhabited...

Draco pulled her tightly to him, a deep moan, almost a growl, vibrating within his chest. She felt so good - so unbelievably good and he wanted her -Gods, he wanted her so much that it literally hurt! And today, finally, he knew he would have her. He felt a surge of exultant joy at the thought. His - finally!

'Ginevra, I love you,' he ground out, managing, despite the depth of his desire, to keep his voice fairly even.

'I know,' she said feverishly before kissing him again. As their lips clung hungrily together, he suddenly lifted her up, overcome by a paroxysm of love, need and lust, his hands tightly gripping her waist. Ginny instinctively wrapped her legs around him as she rose in the air, only barely aware of the sound of Draco kicking the door shut behind them.

Her reaction on seeing him had filled him with ecstatically renewed confidence. She did want him! And that thought alone was enough to breach his internal dam of insecurity and uncertainty, releasing a flood of ravenous desire.

'I want you now!' he told her roughly before kissing her again, thrusting his tongue into her mouth, loving the velvety feel of hers as it wound around his. It was as if they were taking up right where they'd left off when they'd been interrupted by the owl arriving - the owl that had taken her from him.

He walked, carrying her to the bedroom and when they reached the side of the bed, she let her feet slip to the floor while still kissing him, pressing herself against him. He was running his hands possessively from her shoulders, down over her back, into the dip of her waist, over her hips and down over her backside, gripping her tightly and pulling her against him, grinding himself into her.

'I want you, too,' she whispered against his lips and as those words wove their way into his consciousness, he thought it wasn't possible to feel happier than he did right now.

His hands moved up her body, fumbling for the bottom of her jumper and when they found it, he wrenched it up and off, flinging it away carelessly. Ginny leaned back, smiling seductively up at him as she unzipped her pants and pushed them off, kicking her shoes off at the same time.

Draco's eyes roamed hungrily over her as he hastily pulled his robes off, casting them aside in the same direction as her jumper. He was mesmerised by the sight of her in her lacy, pale pink bra and knickers, his fingers trembling so much when he tried to undo the buttons of his black, silk shirt that she took over for him, pushing it off his shoulders before starting on his pants, hastily undoing the buttons and zipper so that he could take them off together with his boxers, then kicking off his shoes. He felt a stab of satisfaction as her eyes widened at the sight of him.

His hands brushed over her bra and down to her knickers. 'Take them off,' he ordered hoarsely, knowing he wouldn't be capable of doing it in his current state.

Keeping her eyes locked onto his, she reached around and undid her bra, letting it slip to the floor, then leant down pushed her knickers off before reaching up and sliding the Alice band off, running her fingers through her thick red locks, shaking them out.

'You're beautiful - perfect,' he rasped, his eyes devouring the sight before him as he reached for her, pulling her down to lay on the bed with him, a gasp escaping him at the feel of her naked body against his for the first time.

They ended with Ginny lying on her back, Draco laying beside her, propped up on his elbow, his head resting in his hand as his eyes travelled hungrily over the length of her body.

Her skin was as pale as his and as she ran her hand tentatively over the expanse of his lean, muscled chest, he lifted his hand and touched her face with something akin to reverence, his forefinger gliding along the delicate line of her cheekbone, down over her lips, following the line of her jaw from her chin, then down the smooth column of her neck, down until he was cupping the firm softness of her breast, a throaty moan escaping him at the exquisite feel of her hardened nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

But he lingered there only a moment - he wanted to explore all of her this first time before taking her. Her skin felt like warm silk and he didn't think she'd ever looked more beautiful than she did in that moment, her glorious hair spread out on the pillow behind her like a golden red halo. So his hand continued its' seductive journey of exploration, running over her slightly concave stomach, skimming the slightly protruding hip bones and making her shiver. He'd never been so hard. Or so ready for someone. Was it possible to want someone this much without exploding? he wondered.

And then his fingers trailed down into the soft red curls, delving into the warmth of the soft, moist crevice beneath, searching gently but insistently for that small hardened nub - there! She convulsively raised her hips off the bed, a moan of longing drawn from her lips.

Holy Merlin's beard it was taking every ounce of self control he had not to roll on top of her this instant and plunge into her!

But he was determined to savour every possible moment, commit every sound and sensation to memory.

'You like that?' he whispered, his lips against her ear. He so desperately wanted to hear more of those deliciously wanton sounds she was making each time he touched her.

'Yes, oh yes!' she moaned. 'Please -'

He couldn't stop himself, he kissed her then, cutting off her words, pushing his tongue into the velvet warmth of her mouth, his fingers now sliding into the hot slickness between her legs, his thumb moving rhythmically around and around her tiny hardened centre, her hips keeping pace with his movements.

He felt her arms around his neck, wallowing in the pleasurable sensations brought about by even that small gesture as her tongue desperately moved around and over his, the soft, sexy sounds of pleasure and longing she was making driving him crazy until he knew he was on the verge of losing control.

'Now, please,' he said thickly, as he moved on top of her, continuing to kiss her - her face, her neck, her mouth, murmuring her name, telling her he loved her over and over. As her legs wrapped around him, he felt her hand move down between them and wrap around his painfully swollen member, guiding him until he could feel the wet, warm softness of her. Then, with an incoherent growl, he thrust himself into her, unable to stop himself from pumping convulsively as pure ecstasy overtook him, aware only that she, too, was crying out in rapture - he heard his name - and then slowly, regretfully, a second - an eternity - later, the ecstasy receded, leaving them both limp, but satiated, their breathing broken and ragged.

Draco rolled onto his side to keep his weight off her, pulling her to him, kissing her face repeatedly as he told her over and over how much he loved her. She didn't say it back to him as he hoped desperately she would, but he thought he understood - that perhaps she'd feel it was a form of betrayal of her love for him. He told himself he could wait. As long as she was with him - that's all that mattered. Or so he thought...

The months passed and Draco revelled in a level of happiness he'd never know before and hadn't thought possible. Fred and George came and went (Draco thankful they'd decided to shelve the idea of a shop in Edinburgh for the time being). Ginny made regular monthly trips to visit her family and friends, all the while subtly discouraging them from visiting her by saying - truthfully - it was easier for her to come to them. She'd resigned her position at Witch Weekly, telling everyone she was going to write a book, living off the money from the sale of the flat she and Dean had shared. She did agree, at Bill Quillson's request, to do some work as a freelance reporter/writer for him when he needed her.

Ginny was still living at Magus Mansion, although now she and Draco shared a bedroom. Draco had never imagined that something as simple as the presence of one other person was all he needed to feel as content and happy as he did. Ginny, too, found peace and contentment and even happiness she'd never thought she'd find again after Dean's death.

The only cloud that appeared on the horizon of their private paradise was Draco's growing obsession with hearing Ginny say "I love you".

At first, Draco had gently inquired about her feelings for him, desperate to know if she'd come to love him. However, while Ginny thought that perhaps it was possible she loved him, she wasn't entirely certain that she did. It wasn't anything she could put her finger on and truth be told, she didn't want to; she had no desire to analyse her feelings for Draco as that way lay many twisted paths she had no wish to walk. To her credit, she explained this to him and while part of him understood, he still craved those "three little words" from her. Without sense or reason, he simply wanted to hear them. It may have been possible that the more Ginny refused, the more obsessed he became, due in no small measure to his heritage; his father, after all, had been a controlling, obsessive man.

Sadly, Draco didn't seem able to fight his growing compulsion, a compulsion fed by the knowledge that she'd told him she loved. Him. The man she'd married. To his dismay, he found he was becoming increasingly jealous of a dead man. A man who had been given what he now wanted more than anything in the world: a declaration of love. Because she now lived with him, Draco felt she must love him, but that she just hadn't realised it or for some unknown reason, refused to see it. Even though Ginny made it clear she wanted to be with him, enjoyed being with him, needed to be with him - it wasn't enough. When they made love, which was frequently, he was left in no doubt as to the depth of her desire and passion for him. But she wouldn't tell him she loved him. And it was driving him crazy.

As the days slipped into weeks that passed into months, they had a number of blazing rows - all over Draco's obsessive desire to hear Ginny say "I love you". Of course, each time they made up in the time-honoured way, always initiated by Draco because he couldn't bear fighting with her. Each time, Ginny forgave him because he was truly sorry.

Typically, he would wake in the morning, his arms around her and find himself smiling with pleasure at the feel of her naked body pressed up against his. He'd kiss her gently as he caressed her, murmuring, 'I love you,' over and over; he'd take his time, allowing her passion to rise slowly to equal his which seemed to be always bubbling just below the surface. She loved being kissed anywhere and everywhere and he found he never tired of fulfilling her desire, proud of his ability to satisfy her. When she reached the point of practically begging him to enter her, the desperate longing in her voice would send his self-control out the window and he would do as she asked, losing himself in his unending passion for her. Afterwards, as she lay in his arms, the words would come, spoken as though he had no control over his own voice or what he said.

Sometimes he would ask, 'Do you love me?' Or he'd beg her to tell him she loved him. 'Please, Ginevra, even if you don't mean it yet, please just say that you love me!' Other times, hating himself as the words came out, he would say, 'You told him you loved him, why can't you tell me?' Internally, he cringed, because he knew it was the last thing she wanted to hear, knew it usually meant either another argument or suffering her cold silence for the rest of the day.

This time, however, she kissed him softly, saying, 'I want you and I need you, Draco. I'm here, with you. Isn't that enough for now?'

Despite knowing that she'd refrained from showing any anger she felt and that she'd made an effort to be loving and sweet with her answer, his throat felt constricted with a paralysing mixture of shame and resentment and he couldn't bring himself to reply. His silence was her answer. It wasn't enough.

He worshipped her and he knew he was allowing his obsessive tendencies towards her far too much freedom, but he was helpless in the face of his feelings for her. He did his utmost to contain his burning need to hear her say she loved him and at first he usually succeeded; but he succeeded less and less as time passed.

And so, a year after they'd met in the bookstore, here he sat, staring into the fire, his dinner untouched.

Ginny was visiting her parents for the weekend and he was alone, drowning in an awful, grey dread. She'd taken to telling him almost every day that his repeated demands for her to tell him she loved him and his incessant questioning ("do you love me?") were becoming increasingly irritating and tiresome and that he had to stop. She didn't say "or else", but he heard those words in the tone of her voice, nonetheless.

The previous night, before she'd left, he'd been powerless to prevent himself from assuring her once more that it didn't matter if she didn't mean it, he just wanted to hear her say it before she left. He said this as he was holding her, her arms wrapped around his waist as they kissed goodbye.

She'd glared up at him and pulled away, turning and picking up her small suitcase. She stood there, still glaring at him, ready to Disapparate.

'Draco, I never want to hear you ask me about this again. I don't want to discuss it again. Not ever.' Her voice was cold and flat, sending cold terror through him.

And then she'd gone.

His heart had shrivelled in his chest; he'd driven her away and as he sat, gazing into the fire, he was in agony as he wondered whether she'd come back.

He woke the next morning to the sounds of Latro attempting to clean up the small sitting room as quietly as he could. Draco realised he'd fallen asleep in front of the fire - which now consisted of nothing more than cold, dismal ashes. His wine glass was sitting on the table, empty, and he felt very stiff as he slowly pushed himself upright in the chair.

All he could think of was that it was only Saturday, that Ginevra wouldn't be home until late tomorrow and the interval of time between seemed to stretch before him like a desert of bleak, unending emptiness. As it was, the day passed in a tortuously slow parade of self-recrimination: Why the hell couldn't he keep his damned mouth shut and just leave well enough alone? Why did he seem to possess such a mindlessly voracious need for her to tell him she loved him? What in the name of Merlin did it matter?! He must learn to accept her as she was - to accept whatever she gave him - the fact that she was living with him should be enough! He told himself he was a complete and utter fool to jeopardise what he had. It was as though his reasoning abilities were paralysed by some dreadful force within him, a force against which he had no weapons.

The next morning he once again woke in front of a cold fireplace, only this time in his - their! - bedroom. He was immediately startled by Latro scuttling about, obviously desperate to speak to him but afraid to wake him to do so.

He rubbed his face with one hand as he sat up and wearily asked Latro what it was he wanted to tell him.

'Oh, Master!' exclaimed Latro excitedly. 'You are having a visitor, Master!'

Draco stiffened. 'A visitor? Who?'

'It's being Miss Priscilla, Master!'

Draco shot to his feet. 'Priscilla? Priscilla Longbottom?' Draco was stunned. He stared down at the house-elf, his voice rising almost to a shout, 'She's here, now? Why?'

At the sound of his master's voice, Latro shrunk back into himself.

'Yes, Master. It's Miss Priscilla, Master - she are here to see you,' he whispered, all his excitement evaporating in the face of Draco's apparent anger.

'Where is she?'

'In the small sitting room, Master. I gaves her tea, Master, she is being very comfortable!'

Draco took a deep breath and instructed Latro to tell Priscilla he would be down in ten minutes. He felt a dreadful sense of foreboding. How did she know he was here? Why was she here?

Ten minutes later, he walked into the small sitting room, a faintly superior smile on his face as he greeted Priscilla. She was, after all, a half-blood and therefore inferior. But she was a very close friend of Ginevra's so he would be civil.

'Mrs Longbottom,' he said smoothly, nodding graciously at Priscilla as he took a seat on the opposite side of the small round table set before the fire place. Latro had placed upon it a tray with tea and crumpets.

Priscilla, Neville Longbottom's wife of ten years and mother of their four children, smiled nervously at the man she didn't think she'd ever have to think about again, let alone see.

'Mr Malfoy,' she said a little breathlessly, wondering at the formality, not knowing it stemmed from his awareness of being alone with a ...Draco only just managed to stop himself from thinking of her in her presence as a half-blood...almost a Mudblood...

'Draco, please,' he replied, attempting to breach the gulf felt only by him, picking up the teapot and pouring.

'Only if you call me Priscilla,' she replied quickly, eager to find a comfortable footing as was her way.

As he handed her a cup of tea (milk, no sugar), Draco's piercing grey eyes met Priscilla's lovely blue gaze.

'So, Priscilla, to what do I owe the proverbial honour of your visit?'

Priscilla took a sip of tea and placed her cup and saucer carefully back on the table before replying.

She looked across at Draco and sighed.

'Ginny.'

Draco felt set upon by a dozen different emotions. He was sure for a moment his heart stopped beating and his blood turned to ice in his veins. His stomach clenched into a tight, miserable ball and he began to imagine that Priscilla was going to tell him Ginny was never coming back. That she hated him. That she was dead. Or all three.

If so, his life was over. He'd ruined everything with his pathetic, obsessive declarations of love and greedy demands for her to say she loved him, even if she didn't. He felt his heart grow heavy as numerous outrageous and unlikely thoughts assailed him.

'Ginny has confided in me this weekend,' said Priscilla, ending his dismal reverie. 'She stayed with us last night for our youngest's birthday, as you know - her god-daughter - and, well, she told me everything.' Priscilla unconsciously rubbed the back of her neck which was stiff from lack of sleep; she'd been up the whole night, talking with Ginny. 'It was clear she was in desperate need of someone to talk to.'

Draco's head dropped back against the arm chair, his eyes closing as he took this in.

'She told you everything?' he whispered.

'Everything,' confirmed Priscilla, sounding far more confident than she felt in the imposing presence of this man.

Draco shuddered before opening his eyes and looking straight across at Priscilla.

'So, you're here about Ginevra. What precisely about Ginevra brings you here?'

It was this answer that he was dreading. He wanted to hear it. He didn't want to hear it. Yet he needed desperately to know it.

Priscilla, a soft, romantic-hearted woman, hadn't been able to refuse the desperate plea made to her by Ginny who had become one of her best friends over the years.

'Priscilla, I NEED him desperately - I WANT him so much it hurts - I can't even imagine living without him! But...I can't tell him I love him. I don't know why - I don't really care why, it's not important, at least not to me - just as long as he's there. But he asks me every day if I love him, every time we kiss or make love - and even just in conversation! I need him to STOP! He's driving me insane! Why can't he just let it be? Why can't he just be with me and accept it? I'm not sure I can stay with him if he doesn't stop. It's getting worse all the time and I've even started to think about leaving him.'

When Ginny had first told her of her relationship with Draco, Priscilla had been shocked beyond words. Her mind and heart had reeled with the knowledge that one of her very best and beloved friends had "taken up" with an old, hated enemy, regardless of any help he'd given the side of light. But, being who she was, Priscilla had stopped and thought about it, considered it - spent endless hours talking to Ginny about it, until she was prepared to accept that perhaps this was truly what Ginny needed right now. Whether or not it would be what she needed for the rest of her life was irrelevant - she needed it now and she, Priscilla, wasn't about to deny it to her. After putting a blanket over an emotionally and physically exhausted Ginny as she lay on the couch, Priscilla decided, as dawn light crept across her living room, that she would speak to Draco herself - today. Of course, she hadn't told Ginny she was planning on doing so, well aware that Ginny wouldn't agree to it. She wasn't even sure she was doing the right thing by coming and talking to Draco. Still, for the sake of her friend she felt she had to try.

Priscilla held Draco's gaze as she answered, 'Ginny doesn't know I'm here and you must never tell her I came. Agreed?'

Priscilla's beautiful blue eyes bored into his. He nodded.

'Ginevra's all that matters,' he told her. 'I'll do whatever it takes.'

Priscilla studied him for a moment then nodded wordlessly as she considered his words.

'You are currently the most important thing in the world to her, Draco. Right now, she needs you - more than she's needed anyone since Dean's death. She wants to be with you - but she can't stay with you if you keep on - if you insist -'

At this point, Priscilla's voice faltered. It was much more difficult saying this to his face than she'd imagined. It couldn't be easy for him to know Ginny had imparted intimate details of their relationship to someone else. She took a deep breath. Here goes! she thought, steadying herself.

'She says you've become obsessed with her telling you she loves you. And that you've become jealous of Dean and their past relationship. Not a day goes by, she told me, that you don't ask her incessantly whether or not she loves you. She said she's thinking -' Again, Priscilla found herself faltering.

'Go on,' whispered Draco, knowing what she was going to say, fear gripping his heart.

'She's thinking of leaving you.'

Draco dropped his head into his hands as impossible pain ripped through his body, a strangled sound torn from him.

'You need to stop,' said Priscilla gently.

'I know,' he whispered, his voice cracking. 'I know.'

He lifted his head and looked across at Priscilla and she felt pity wash through her at the agony evident in his eyes.

'Tell her - tell her that I love her - and I will never again bring it up. I swear it, on my mother's grave.'

Draco's voice deepened ever further as he spoke and Priscilla shivered; she thought perhaps for a second she knew what it was that Ginny saw in this man, just for a second...

'I love her, Priscilla, more than I love my life. If she is not in my life, I don't have a life. I will do this - anything! - to ensure she stays with me. If she's not happy, I'm not happy - it wouldn't be possible for me to be happy if she wasn't.'

'You'll have to tell her yourself, Draco. She can't know I came to see you, remember?' she reminded him, her voice barely more than a whisper. 'You must keep your promise not to tell her I was here!'

'I will,' he told her, his voice implacable with determination as his grey gaze rested on her. 'Is she coming back?'

Priscilla nodded, 'She was only thinking of leaving you, Draco, she isn't actually doing that.'

Yet, thought Draco miserably.

Priscilla continued, 'By the way, Ginny won't be home until tomorrow night as she's staying one more night with us. She's gone back to the Burrow this morning which has given me the time to come and see you.' Priscilla glanced quickly at her watch. 'Actually, she'll be back at our place in about an hour, so I have to be going.'

The one thing Priscilla omitted to tell him, because she didn't have the heart to do so, was that Ginny was finally beginning to voice her doubts about the reality of her relationship with Draco. She was beginning to realise that perhaps she wouldn't be able to live with the consequences of being with Draco. There was so much they would never be able to share as a couple - she would always be alone at family gatherings - she couldn't take him to her friends' homes, nor could they come to hers. There was already the danger that word of them being together could eventually make its way to someone who knew them as they'd been living together for over a year now and had become a regular sight in some parts of Edinburgh. Ginny wasn't sure she could face her parents if they found out Draco Malfoy was her lover. And yet, despite that, she wasn't sure she'd have the strength to turn her back on the happiness he'd brought her...

Draco couldn't sleep that night and what he did with those hours was instrumental in creating a dilemma that would come to repel and horrify him even as it fascinated him; his actions that night created a dilemma that would never cease to haunt him.

The following night, as he stood waiting in the small sitting room to which he knew Ginny would Floo or Apparate, Draco realised bitterly that perhaps he was, after all, his father's son. He wondered whether he'd be able to live with himself in the future. Yet, his exhaustion and self-revulsion evaporated at the sight of Ginny as she appeared in front of him with the accompanying crack of Apparition. They didn't speak at first, Ginny simply flying into his arms, Draco crushing her to him, kissing her so hard it made them both feel a little weak. They'd made love there and then on the large, soft rug before the fire place and it was later, as they lay there, their arms and legs entwined, Ginny asleep in his arms, he felt he was capable of doing anything to keep her, that any price would be worth it, regardless of the consequences.

TO BE CONTINUED...