Wayward Cupid

Chapter Three

Draco stared up at the large, forest green building and sighed. "Why are we here?"

Weasley shrugged. "Cupid must have a reason."

They'd followed the lovable traitor - no, not lovable; entirely the opposite of lovable, really, despite his soft brown eyes and large fuzzy ears - hoping he'd lead them to some sort of escape route. Only he'd led them here, to - if the childish scrawl across the door could be believed - Santa's Workshop. The reindeer was proving to be stupid as well as traitorous. "We're supposed to be avoiding the elves, Weasley. Not touring their factory."

Cupid let his breath out in a soft snort, giving Draco a fond glance, and then pawed at the wooden door with a heavy hoof.

It swung open almost immediately, strains of Christmas music spilling out into the open air, as well as a rhythmic hammering and sawing and constant stream of chatter. In the doorway looking down at them stood the fattest man Draco had ever seen. How on earth did he fit in a sleigh? For it was most definitely Father Christmas grinning widely at them, his cheeks rosy from mirth and his white beard tucked into the front of a green and gold apron.

"Ah, Draco and Ginny, welcome," he boomed, his voice a deep and melodious timbre. "Come in, come in, no need to stand shivering in the cold now, is there?" He stepped aside and motioned them past him, giving Cupid a friendly pat and a quick, "Off with you, now," that sent the reindeer trotting happily back down the lane.

Ginny shot Malfoy a wary glance, and was slightly startled to see him give her a small, reassuring smile. She smiled back, and his lips instantly dipped into a frown. Ginny suspected he'd had no idea he was being pleasant to her... it had been an automatic reaction. Which was actually quite touching when she thought about it.

Not seeing any other option, they let themselves be urged inside and down a tinselled corridor, Father Christmas lumbering behind them. The hallway opened up into a large, cavernous chamber, workbenches covering almost every inch of space. Elves of every shape and size were bent over the tables, tiny silver hammers flashing, their goggled faces so intent on their work that they didn't even notice when the three of them crossed the floor towards a door that had 'Santa's Office' painted on it in candy cane-striped letters.

The office itself was rather cozy, with an entire wall of windows that looked out onto the stark mountain range and an overstuffed couch angled towards the view. A bright red horseshoe shaped desk dominated the room, piled high with papers and what looked like dishes of candy and cookies.

"Now then," the jolly old man said as he sank down into his chair, the wood creaking ominously as he settled his bulk. "I believe some of my elves have been neck deep in mischief." His eyes danced, the blue alight with laughter that seemed vaguely reminiscent of Professor Dumbledore, and he chuckled gruffly.

"Mischief?" Malfoy sneered.

Father Christmas sighed. "Always happens this time of year; recruit my best nose to sniff out a replacement for the old man." He patted his overlarge tummy. "Think I can't handle the job ever since I started my second century in office."

"Best nose?" Ginny queried.

"Cupid can track a mouse for miles if need be. Never had a need of that, though," he said, scratching his beard idly, then beamed over at them. "Took a shine to you two, didn't he?"

Ginny found herself grinning back, his cheer infectious.

"I don't suppose," Malfoy drawled, tugging impatiently on his waistcoat, "we could hurry this interview along? I'd like to get home sometime before the New Year."

"Of course, of course. Now let me just find..." He flipped through a few files on his desk, murmuring to himself, and opened and closed a number of drawers before drawing out a rolled scroll with a loud, "Here we go." He winked at Ginny. "Have to check the lists, you know. Standard procedure."

Catching the heading 'Nice' on the parchment, Draco smirked. "I haven't been listed as nice since I was five and made Goyle lick a house-elf," he said smugly.

Father Christmas cleared his throat - good Lord, he even did that cheerfully - and said, "Ah, Ginny Weasley. Top of the list, of course."

"Of course," Draco echoed dryly. Where else would a Weasley be?

"And... well, look, you're nearing the middle, Draco."

"Nearing the middle?" Draco retorted, appalled. "Of the Nice List?" It was preposterous. A Malfoy? Nice? Draco narrowed his eyes, pinning them on the little Weasley. "This is entirely your fault."

"Mine?"

"Yes. You... you and your twinkling and smiling and nakedness," he was starting to rant now, and he balled his hands into fists.

Ginny, eyes wide, glanced over at Father Christmas. "I was not naked," she stated firmly.

The old man merely smiled and leaned back in his chair, folding his hands over his stomach.

"And your stupid 'please' and 'thank you' and the sweet way you pout your lips and... what the devil are you doing wearing my coat?"

Confused, she glanced down at the red jacket he'd placed about her shoulders once he'd noticed her shivering in the cold mountain air.

"Give it here, Weasley." He held out his hand, tapping his foot impatiently.

Slowly, she peeled off the heavy brocade coat, revealing the thin white button down she wore beneath it, and he snatched it out of her hands.

He glared at her, his lips pressed together until they were thin pale lines. "Don't delude yourself for one minute, Weasley, that I'm nice. Naughty doesn't even begin to describe what I am. And sir," he turned to Father Christmas, "how the hell can Weasley wear those scraps of black lace and still be nice?" His voice had become slightly strained as he lifted a hand to wave at her chest. "It's obscene. And although I grant you they display her beautifully, I somehow doubt the validity of your lists. You need different lists, sir, because I am in no way nice. I'm not even pleasant. I'm not even semi-pleasant or nearly pleasant or even remotely close to Pleasant's cousin Civil."

Ginny blinked, wondering if anything Malfoy had just spouted had made any sense. Because it really didn't seem to. "Malfoy," she said cautiously. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," he said tightly, just before the wall of windows exploded inward and Neville Longbottom tumbled into the room, landing on his back at Malfoy's feet.

******

"So you're telling me," Hermione said through her teeth, "that you all spilled your pouches of Christmas powder? All of it?"

"I didn't," Zabini offered, hands in his pockets.

Harry, Ron and Neville gave her sheepish looks.

Pansy was staring at her pouch in confusion. "I know I didn't spill it," she murmured, tipping the small, empty bag upside down and shaking it slightly.

Hermione turned to the lone Ravenclaw. "Luna?"

The pale girl lifted her pouch and smiled absently. "Half left."

"So," Hermione hissed. "We've got three halves to split between us. Well, it's just not going to work, is it?" She hooked her arms around her back and started pacing back and forth between the trees. "Nothing for it then, we're going to have to raid the stable."

"Raid the stable?"

"I'm not eating grain, Granger."

"I guess you'll just have to live here forever and ever, then," Hermione snapped. "You're in no position to complain, Parkinson, so you bloody well will eat grain if that's what we need to do."

Ron bit his lip. "Shouldn't we look for Ginny and Malfoy first?"

Hermione shook her head. "No, we've got to plan our escape route; make sure everything is in order. Otherwise, we might all end up being trapped and captured."

"It's Christmas Town," Harry emphasized. Why wasn't everyone getting that? He couldn't understand the need for such subterfuge and caution in a town that was created for the season of joy and happiness. Of celebration and cheer. Of giving and loving and…and Ginny had a crush on Malfoy. "We've got to get Ginny and Malfoy first."

"No," Hermione said sternly.

"Yes," Ron said, putting his foot firmly down, crossing his arms over his chest.

Hermione blinked owlishly at him. "What?"

"I think he's countermanding your orders, love," Zabini stage whispered.

She scowled at the Slytherin, and then turned to Ron again, staring at him silently for a few moments, studying his stubborn countenance. His face was surprisingly not flushed, nor did she detect any hint of uncertainty in his eyes. He seemed... masterful she supposed was the word.

Pansy heaved a heavy sigh and smiled wistfully at him.

Hermione finally gave in with a brisk nod, saying, "Fine, Ron, we'll do it your way," and softened her harsh tone with an approving grin. "Let's go find Ginny and Malfoy."

They left their hiding place in a copse just outside the village, keeping to the backs of the tiny cottages and the shadows of evergreens. The snow crunched lightly under their feet and fell to the ground in pings and an occasionally thump as the bright sun beat down on the laden trees. More than once, Neville yanked Luna out of the way of falling clumps of snow, the cold powder slipping under his own collar for all his efforts, and he was soaked and shivering by the time they left the cover of the trees and started inwards into the village.

As they neared the heart of town, Harry whispered, "It's seems deserted, doesn't it?"

"It's midmorning. Almost all the elves are probably working," Zabini said, tapping the cover of Father Christmas' Atlas to Christmas Town. Really, the book was proving extraordinarily handy.

"Where should we start looking?" Ron asked as they passed the stable. Which was just about when they encountered the reindeer, its large ears pricked up and stumpy tail wagging. It cocked its head and trotted close to them, stopping in front of Hermione.

"Well, aren't you just the cutest thing?" Hermione praised softly.

The reindeer shifted and bumped his nose against her tummy, moving to rub his shoulder along her body like an overgrown puppy.

"Certainly is affectionate," Zabini drawled.

"What's he doing?" Harry asked, watching as the reindeer licked Hermione's hand, and then bounded down the lane, glancing back with his large eyes imploring. He waggled his head and gave a deep bray, pawing at the ground impatiently.

Zabini rocked back on his heels. "Looks like he wants us to follow him."

As if he could understand him, the reindeer reared and stamped his front hooves into the packed snow of the well-trodden path, cantering away before making a sharp turn and trotting halfway back towards them, his breath puffing out in short snuffs.

"What is it, boy? You want us to follow?" Hermione asked anxiously as she hurried forward. "Is it Ginny and Malfoy? Are they in trouble?"

"Somehow I doubt he's going to answer, Granger."

Hermione glared at Zabini - she seemed to be doing a lot of that lately - and raced after the reindeer, taking for granted that the rest of the team would do the same. She came to a stop just as the reindeer disappeared behind a large wooden building, the shade of the forest green paint a perfect replica of the deep evergreens surrounding it. Her breath came out in short rasps and she pressed a palm to her heart, unused to the thin mountain air.

Ron and Harry and the others reached her, their own breathing laboured, and she pointed off to the side of the building. "He went that way."

When the seven students rounded the corner, the reindeer was nowhere to be seen. They could, however, hear angry shouting above them and they tipped their heads up in comical unison to the large window that lined almost the entire wall. None of them were tall enough to see through it, but they had no trouble identifying the voice. Malfoy.

******

"What? Longbottom?" Draco glanced down at the Gryffindor in confusion. Never in his life had he ever imagined being rescued by Longbottom. It was almost as insane as the idea of a Malfoy residing on the Nice List.

"Neville," Weasley cried, rushing over to the downed boy. Only she never reached him.

Out of nowhere, ropes snaked around her wrists and she was pulled roughly towards the broken windows, stumbling over the shards that carpeted the office's hardwood floors. And then hands were on her, an arm caught about her waist, and she was lifted so swiftly out of the opening that bile rose in her throat. She landed with a soft thump in the snow, the cold instantly seizing her entire body, and glanced up just in time to see Malfoy being hurtled over the sill by Harry, sitting atop Ron's shoulders.

Malfoy hit the snow on his hands and knees, an angry gasp torn from his throat. A furious fire lit his eyes as he turned to look at Ginny, curled on her side, and he reached out and pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her shoulders. "What the hell was that?" he snarled over at Harry.

Ginny shivered and unconsciously burrowed closer to Malfoy. Purely for warmth purposes, of course.

"All right down there?" Father Christmas chuckled, leaning out of his broken window.

"Um..." Neville, who'd managed to climb back outside with an amazing lack of fuss, shifted his weight back and forth on his feet.

"Fine," Ron shouted, his face red. "We're fine." His hands curled into fists and his eyes were glistening with barely suppressed rage. "Only get your goddamn claws off my sister, Malfoy."

Malfoy abruptly scrambled to his feet and Ginny slumped back into the snowdrift in surprise.

"Perhaps if you hadn't thrown her out a second story window..." Malfoy started menacingly.

"Stop!" Pansy yelped.

Both boys paused in the act of circling each other and glanced over to where Pansy was helping Ginny to her feet. Neither girl looked the least bit pleased.

"I say, Draco," Zabini stepped in between the four glaring students. "What are you wearing?"

Turning away from Ron, Malfoy growled and bent down to retrieve his hat, dusting off the red fabric and placing it carefully back on his head. "I'm wearing a suit, Blaise." Zabini grinned and opened his mouth to say more, but Malfoy cut a hand through the air and groused, "Not one word."

Ginny broke down and smiled. "He's awfully fond of his outfit, isn't he?"

This, of course, drew attention to Ginny's own Christmas themed attire, and spurred Ron into jumping forward with his cloak outstretched. "What happened to your clothes, Gin?"

"The elves stole them while we were sleeping," she replied, wrapping his warm cloak gratefully around her body.

His eyes nearly crossed. "What?"

"Oh, don't worry, Weasel," Malfoy drawled, walking over and draping an arm nonchalantly over her shoulders. "We weren't completely naked at the time."

"Her black lace underwear was entirely decent, I assure you," he continued, his eyes glinting with sharp amusement. "Although," he gazed at her speculatively, "I do wonder if she wears a size too small, you know, what with all that creamy flesh spilling--"

Draco was cut off by the Weasel's fist slamming painfully into his jaw. He stumbled back and shook his head, his mouth throbbing as he pressed his fingers against it.

The Weasel, nursing his split knuckles, grinned nastily at him.

With a haughty glare, the little Weasley quipped, "Well, you deserved it, you prat," but she took a step towards him and pried his fingers off the rapidly swelling bruise, clucking her tongue with slight concern.

Staring wide-eyed at the couple, Harry suddenly recalled that Ginny had a crush on Malfoy. "I think we should move on to the escape part of the plan," he said hastily. "Hermione?"

"Right, Harry," she nodded. "We still have to find a way to get out of here."

"I'm not eating grain," Pansy grumbled under her breath.

"Might I suggest," boomed Father Christmas' voice above them, "the use of my reindeer?"

******

Since Rudolph was naturally a silly Muggle myth, they were one short. Ron couldn't have planned it better himself and was already rubbing his palms together in anticipation. But when he turned towards Pansy with a wicked grin, he spotted Malfoy hooking his leg over the back of a reindeer, Ginny already seated in front of him.

He growled absently and consoled himself with thoughts of beating Malfoy to a bloody pulp the minute his knuckles, which had swollen to nearly twice their normal size, were mended. Malfoy's face had felt like a slab of granite.

Ginny glanced over her shoulder at Malfoy, startled to see him straddling Cupid behind her. "Are you trying to give Ron a stroke?"

"That would be my main goal, yes," he replied calmly, cupping his hands on her hips.

His fingers burned into her hipbones and she stiffened her back. Well, that was just fine, wasn't it? "I'd appreciate it, Malfoy, if you didn't use me to piss off my brother."

"I would think you'd like feeling useful for once, Weasley."

Ginny clenched her teeth, her breath seeping out in a soft hiss. He was such a complete bastard; and Merlin knew why she wouldn't have it any other way.

Draco was surprised to feel her suddenly relax against him with a chuckle. At the very least, he'd been expecting harsh words, or perhaps angry tears. But no, instead she was laughing at him. When had he lost the upper hand in this relationship? In fact, when had the word 'relationship' ever entered into this farce of an adventure? Draco curled his lip back in disgust at the same time that he slipped his left hand over her abdomen, settling her more firmly into the cradle of his thighs.

"Here now. What's this?"

Nine heads swivelled to the open door of the barn.

"Gretchen," Ginny said in a horrified whisper. But it wasn't just Gretchen. It was Robbie and Lars and Murphy and Garth and Billy - and, good gods, was that Martin, too? - and five other short, stout elves in bright red and green coats. And they were all blocking the exit.

The eight reindeer and their riders crowded close together, eyes locked on the scowling Christmas elves. The reindeer bared their teeth and the elves hooked their elbows together, creating a living barrier across the barn door. With the students magically handicapped and the elves just tall enough to gnaw at their knees, it was rapidly shaping up to be a Mexican standoff.

Harry's mind went on autopilot, blinding him to all but the fight - good versus evil, light versus dark, righteous wizards and witches versus nefarious Christmas elves. He was just about to sacrifice himself, hurl his body at the elves in an effort to knock them aside so that the others could escape - after all, that's what heroes do - when a roar of such rage and craving rang through the air that it caused the building itself to quake in fear.

The headline in next month's issue of The Quibbler would read, "Yeti Eats Deranged Leprechauns And Saves Nine Students From Certain Death," which was surprisingly close to the truth. Although the only reason the Yeti hadn't attacked them as well was because Luna had calmly set the stable afire with the pack of matches Hermione had insisted they bring along. Apparently, the desire to flee from fire was stronger in the Yeti than its hunger for human flesh.

It was well past nightfall by the time the reindeer touched down on the grounds of Hogwarts, the crescent moon positioned high in the sky. It was clear and crisp and quiet and the students dismounted with barely a murmur to each other, beyond tired and reluctant to break the silent solitude of the snow-blanketed Quidditch pitch.

And so Ginny didn't say a word to Malfoy as they watched the reindeer bed down for the night under the Quidditch stands, pawing at the snow for tufts of bitter winter grass. Nor did she give him anything other than a nod goodnight as the pack of students split company to trudge off to their respective dormitories.

In the days that followed, Ginny learned that Neville had not purposely thrown himself through the window at Santa's Office, and that a large black crow had dive-bombed him while he was balanced precariously on Zabini's shoulders. She also learned of the Christmas powder and thanked Professor Snape accordingly. He was surprisingly civil to her, although it could have been because of the presence of the Headmaster and the fact that she'd thanked him in front of the Great Hall. She even thought she detected a hint of a blush at the gaunt hollows of his cheeks.

In the weeks that led up to the Christmas holidays, she had more than one opportunity to throw Malfoy a smouldering glance. However, he stubbornly refused to acknowledge them, and her, to the point where she found herself wishing desperately for a casually tossed insult, a sneer in her direction, or even an evil chuckle at her expense.

It didn't help, of course, that Hermione and Zabini seemed to be snogging in every possible nook and cranny of the castle. Or that she'd found Pansy and Ron snuggling in front of the Gryffindor common room fire three and a half times so far - she'd heard them once, and swivelled right around to stomp back up the dormitory stairs - and caught them cooing love words to each other in the halls between classes.

Ginny wasn't sure if Malfoy was remaining at Hogwarts for Christmas, but she felt as though something had to be done. The night before the holidays started, she snuck into the Owlery and grabbed Pig, tying a brightly wrapped package to his leg and sending him off with orders to find Malfoy.

The next afternoon, Ginny wished her busily packing dorm mates a Happy Christmas and went down to lunch to see that Malfoy had stayed as well, and that for the first time in weeks he looked her straight in the eye. However expressionless his face seemed, his gaze sent Ginny's heart tumbling about her ribcage, making her realize how bloody attached she'd become to the Slytherin.

Later, when she was huddled under her covers and nearly asleep, she heard a hard tapping at the window. It was an owl - a large, mottled owl with a sharp beak and even sharper eyes - and clutched in its talons was a bundled up red brocade suit jacket, pinned with a note that said, simply, Since we seem to be exchanging articles of clothing, although I hope you don't expect me to wear yours.

She smiled and hugged the coat to her chest.

******

Cupid had refused to return to the North Pole until the last possible minute, so Draco stood out at the cold pitch on Christmas Eve morning, watching the reindeer finally disappear into the sky. He felt an inexplicable ache at the animal's absence and once again cursed the little Weasley. She made him want more.

She made him think that having more wouldn't be such a terrible thing.

He spent the day brooding in his dorm room, avoiding Blaise's knowing smirks, and when he finally dressed for dinner, he did so with his usual care and ignored the faint traces of anxiety that skittered down his spine.

She was standing outside the Great Hall when he arrived; her back towards him as she stared at the doors, body tense and hands clenched. Her whip lean form was clad in the long green and red striped skirt and white Oxford, her mass of ginger hair caught in a single plait that rested between her shoulder blades.

"Weasley."

Ginny started at the sound of Malfoy's voice behind her and whirled around, the heel of her palm pressed to her heart. "Malfoy," she breathed. "You scared me."

His lips quirked up slightly as his gaze roved over her body. "You're not wearing my jacket."

"No," she said, taking a step towards him. She'd been anxious about seeing him, wondering… but he looked so pale and handsome, tugging absently on his red waistcoat. The round hat was tilted rakishly over his left eye and she took another step towards him, reaching out to skim her fingers over the brim. Cocking her head to the side, she grinned. "You're not wearing my bra."

He arched a brow. "Are you sure?"

She shook her head, chuckling, and dropped her hand to his cheek, the line of his jaw. "Smarmy git," she murmured fondly.

He grabbed her hand and lowered it from his face, tightening his hold over her fingers. "You deserve to be horsewhipped, you know."

"I do?"

He nodded slowly. "In the space of two days you managed to get me molested by a reindeer, kidnapped by elves, placed on Santa's Nice List, thrown out of a window by Potter, and nearly set aflame by a vacant-eyed Ravenclaw."

"Really, Malfoy?" she drawled. "All that was my fault?"

"Entirely."

She sighed, wiggling her fingers in his grip. "And to think I thought you were going to pledge your undying love for me tonight."

"Undying is such a strong sentiment, Weasley."

"I couldn't agree with you more."

His eyes narrowed dangerously. "As long as we're on the same page."

"Oh, yes, definitely," she said, moving closer until her breasts were nearly touching his chest. She licked her lips and gave him a sly smile. "Seems a shame, though."

"What does?"

She sighed and turned her head to glance at the mistletoe above the doorway to the Great Hall. "A waste really." Flicking her eyes back up to his, she gave him a speculative look. "Unless..."

Malfoy took a step forward, his hands closing over her hips as he manoeuvred her back against the door. "Unless?" he whispered, one brow arched.

Her arms came up to wind about his neck, palms at his nape, urging his head lower. "This'll work just fine," she murmured, her lips ghosting his.

He held her tight, possessively, thumbs pressing into her hipbones and fingers splayed to hold her firmly in place. In contrast, his mouth was light and tentative on hers, as if he was delving into foreign territory. And, God, the sweetness completely undid Ginny. It was soft and undemanding, and entirely un-Malfoy-like, and she arched closer, sighing into his mouth.

When they pulled apart, Ginny, face flushed and eyes sparkling, grinned up at him. "Tonight, Mr. Malfoy," she stated confidently, "You're mine."

He smirked down at her. "Oh?"

She nodded. "And anyone who sees how we're dressed will know it, so there's no use in protesting."

"I wouldn't dream of it," he said.

"No." She hooked her arm through his. "I didn't think you would."

~ The End ~