Unbidden Desires

Chapter 8 - Desire and Regret

Ginny sat across from Draco in the nook as they both nibbled on cakes and drank their tea. She was cautious at first, as he had brought them from the kitchens himself. Deciding that neither the food nor the drink seemed to be poisoned, and the normally smarmy Malfoy seemed to be pleasant, she relaxed a little bit. Soon they were laughing and joking with one another like they were old friends.

However, after several minutes of amusing banter, he dropped all pretence, and the real reason for their late night rendezvous became apparent. Turning to face her, he said point blank: "All right, Weasley, spill. What did you see in the Mirror of Erised?"

It was as if she couldn't help herself. She related every scrap of information she saw, from Harry Potter vanquishing Voldemort (yes, she used his name!), to Draco's father, his aunt, and all of the Death Eaters dying as well by their association to him. She went on to say that her own father had been named Minister of Magic.

"Arthur Weasley was the Minister of Magic?" Draco snorted with hollow laughter.

"Yes, he was. And you and I were married," she divulged freely. Unable to believe what she'd just admitted, her eyes grew as wide as a house-elf's. Her mouth fell open in utter shock. Why did I tell him that?!

Half of her expected him to laugh in her face, while the other half expected him to throw up in her lap. But he looked more stunned than anything else. He blinked slowly, moving his mouth wordlessly. Incredibly, the one and only Draco Malfoy, the Master of the Double Entendre, was actually speechless.

He carefully set down the tea. When his voice returned to him, he cleared his throat and asked compulsively, "How many children did we have in your version of it?" After he thought about what he'd said, he realized he had disclosed a deep secret, one which he had sworn to take to his grave. He began to feel flustered. Forcing himself to calm down, he reminded himself, Malfoys do not do 'flustered.'

Ginny was dumbfounded by the way he'd worded this question. She looked up at him blankly and replied, "None." She was starting to feel a tad woozy. Rubbing her forehead, she asked, "What is wrong with me? I'm feeling so strange."

As if on cue, Draco confessed blithely, "That's no surprise, Weasley. You've drunk enough Veritaserum to get Crabbe to spill his darkest, most perverted secrets. Lucky for me, he didn't show up for Grant's freak show tonight."

"What?!" she asked, astounded. Then more slowly, Ginny demanded, "Malfoy, what the hell did you do?"

Reaching inside his pocket, he pulled out a small vial and held it in front of her face. He stated, "I took Grant's bottle of Veritaserum. He forgot it to pick it up before he left the room. When I sat down next to the mirror to put on my shoes, I grabbed it. I put it in your tea, and you've been sipping it for the last several minutes." For a split second, he felt the slightest twinge of regret for having told her. But he soon got over that, telling himself, Hell, what do I care if she knows? At least I got her to tell me the truth.

Astounded that he would stoop so low, her mouth drew into a thin line. Her brown eyes narrowed in anger as she shot him a look of loathing. Thinking she was going to hex him, he looked around for his wand. He glanced down at the floor and noticed something a bit unsettling. His cup was at least a foot away, and her empty one was right next to his leg. He furrowed his brow and asked her accusingly, "Hey, when did you give me your tea?"

"I didn't, you prat! You took it yourself. And so what? It's not like you're going to turn into a troll." She added snidely, "Whoops -- too late for that!"

He growled in exasperation, "You mean you knew I was drinking from your cup? And you let me?!"

"I guess it didn't bother me. I'd had enough, and I figured you must have run out," she shrugged. "Sharing is second nature at my house."

"Well, it isn't where I come from," he snarled. Then he said spitefully, "All right, so now you know. I had a vision similar to yours: we were married. You were pregnant -- it seems to be a natural condition for the women in your family." She ignored his comment, as she was too irate over the potion to care about his annoying little witticisms.

He paused as if the next part pained him to reveal itself. "We already had three little brats, and I was . . ecstatic about it. We were passionately in love. I felt something akin to -- joy, I think." Shuddering as if he were still horrified, he said, "Frankly, the whole thing scared the living shit out of me."

"Oh," was her less-than-succinct reply. She was bewildered by what he'd said; although he had always professed to hate her, it seemed that he might actually like her -- even want her. Yet the very idea frightened him. Had he not taken the truth potion, she would never have believed a word of it. But he had, so it must be true, Ginny reasoned. No witch or wizard could fight Veritaserum's compulsive power.

Eyeing him suspiciously, she phrased her next question carefully in an effort to sort this all out. "So you're saying that you deepest desire is . . . to marry me and have four children? And you think this would bring you . . joy?" she asked incredulously.

"Yes. I mean, no! I -- I don't know!" His head was swimming. He didn't make any sense, not even to himself. Fucking hell! he cursed the potion. Shove off, won't you? Wasn't he supposed to be interrogating her?

Since he was in the mood for such intense honesty, she figured she might as well go for the brass ring. "Did you see anything else in the mirror that you haven't already told me?"

He fought to withhold the truth, but the words poured out before he could stop them. "Yes, my father got stabbed in the back right in front of me and my mother. Neither of us were terribly upset; we just watched as he bled to death. I comforted her, and she held me. You know, like she might -- love me," he said, as if the possibility were mildly startling.

Ginny nodded and asked, "Is that all?"

"Yes, isn't that bloody well enough?" he snapped. "What about your vision? Anything else I should know about? No nasty affairs with Potter while you were my wife?"

"No! I told you everything already. I didn't see much else; the moment I recognized you, I fainted . . I fell straight to the floor. Suppose I was scared to see anymore."

"Well, that's the kind of thing your spouse wants to hear," he added sarcastically.

Anxious to go before he asked anything really important, like whether Snape was a double-agent, she suggested they leave. "We need to get back to our houses before Filch wakes up and finds us. If we're caught, it'll be both our heads!"

He readily agreed and made the dishes vanish with his wand. She started to remove the silencing charm and throw the invisibility cloak over her head to leave, but he touched her arm to stop her. "You mean, you don't want to walk me down to the dungeons?" he asked with phony affection. Smirking, he added, "Don't you want to protect the man you want to marry from getting a detention?"

"Yes," she said. "I do." Stop with the true confessions, you ninny! she chastised herself.

They walked very close to each other and refrained from talking; neither one knew what he or she might end up disclosing. Silence was best. She could feel his steady, warm breath on the back of her neck. She shivered, whispering, "Stop that, it tickles."

"What, this?" Pulling her long, soft hair to one side, he blew on the back of her neck. "Why, don't you like it?" he asked her, trying to get a rise out of her. She's definitely getting a 'rise' out of me.

As if she'd read his mind, Ginny spun around and threw her arms around his neck. She kissed him hungrily on the lips, her tongue forceful, as if he were her favorite desert and she hadn't eaten in days. Near the point of losing all self-restraint, he responded with fervor. Draco gave her a scorching kiss, fueling a fire that was already on the verge of raging out of control.

They couldn't get enough of each other. As they stumbled into the nearest unused classroom, he carelessly tossed Potter's cloak to the floor. Other articles of clothing soon went flying in all directions. Just before she flung her robe aside, Ginny hurriedly cast a cushioning charm to soften the floor.

Draco soon found himself on his back, the lovely Miss Weasley straddling his waist. Divested of most of their clothes, they were both breathing heavily and staring intensely at each other. She bit her lip and coaxed gently, "Tell me the truth, Draco. Do you want me?"

He hissed, "Yesss, I do. Very much." No point in denying it now, when the truth is standing straight up and stabbing her in the thigh. "I was intrigued by you when we first met at Lockhart's book signing. Your standing up to me and giving me what-for really attracted me. That hex you threw last year was the final straw; I just had to have you." He pulled her close to him for another searing, lingering kiss.

It is said that confession is good for the soul, and that baring one's soul can have a profound effect on a person. With a Malfoy, the difficulty typically lies in finding such an elusive item. But Draco felt sure that Ginny must have found his; she was devouring it completely and bringing to the surface the most intense feelings he could ever remember having felt.

When she sat up and slowly removed the remainder of her clothes, his breath caught in his throat. He resumed placing his hands and lips on her body, eliciting a soft moan from her, which only encouraged him to continue. It wasn't long before neither one of them could stop if they tried. Caressing each other without restraint, they followed where their instincts led them.

~~~

Gasping to catch his breath, he said, "Whew! That potion works wonder, Miss Weasley. Must get some more of that, eh?"

She smacked his arm lightly and giggled, "I don't think we need to bother." After they were both dressed, she picked up her wand and pointed it to her lower abdomen. She uttered the spell her French sister-in-law had taught her to prevent an unwanted pregnancy. Draco thought to himself, Good, I was hoping she knew that spell.

As they started to leave, they donned the cloak once more and he said hesitantly, "One more question, then I promise, I won't ask anymore." She looked up at him curiously. "You didn't sleep with Michael Corner, did you?"

"No, I didn't. That creep is nothing but a lying bastard," she stated harshly. Thinking about Michael Corner reminded her of Quidditch and her own team practice tomorrow evening. As Ron was the team captain, she knew he would skin her alive if she couldn't go because of a detention. She said, "It's dreadfully late. I need to get back my house before I'm missed."

She escorted Draco to the dungeons under the safety of the invisibility cloak. His head was starting to ache ferociously from sheer exhaustion. It had been the longest, most confusing, yet strangely satisfying, day he could ever remember.

They stopped around the corner from Slytherin House. He turned to look at her. He kissed her deeply once more and breathed in the scent that made her uniquely Ginny, as if hoping to hold onto this blissful feeling forever. "Good night, Ginny. You were wonderful."

She lifted the corner of the cloak slightly so that he could ease out from underneath it. As he slid around the corner, she whispered, "See you, Draco." She slipped away silently, leaving him alone in the hallway with his thoughts.

Well, he thought was alone.

"So the great Draco Malfoy finally returns," said the Potions Master, disapproval evident in his silky, smooth voice. "Hmm, where could you have been this late at night? And with a wonderful girl named Ginny whom I could not see . . My -- this is interesting."

~~~

On reaching her tower, Ginny quietly spoke the password to be admitted. She crawled stealthily through the portrait hole and entered the common room. Except for the crackling embers from the evening's fire, the room was completely silent. I wonder what time it is? she thought.

"Do you have any idea what time it is, young lady?" her brother asked in a severe tone.

Ginny whipped her head around to see Ron, Hermione, and Harry staring at her with varying looks of disappointment on their faces. Hermione cast a significant glance at her boyfriend, as if to indicate that he must remain calm. He held his tongue with extreme difficulty, and Harry looked at Ginny painfully.

Hermione walked over to Ginny. In her hand was a piece of parchment, smaller than the ones that were typically used for homework. The older girl cleared her throat and said in a shaky voice, "Ginny, exactly what is this?"

She thrust the parchment directly in front of Ginny. The younger girl recognized it immediately as a page from the journal that Bill had given her, the one place she felt completely safe about writing down her most private thoughts. Taken aback, she stared at it in astonishment. Not only had Hermione taken her journal, deciphered the password to magically open it, and rummaged through her secrets, she'd actually had the unmitigated nerve to remove a page from it! Was there nothing sacred to this girl?

Fuming, yet concerned she might still be under the influence of the Veritaserum, Ginny forced herself to speak as calmly as she could. "Well, it looks like a page from my journal." She desperately needed to buy some time; it felt like the potion may be starting to wear off, but she certainly didn't want to find out that it hadn't. Who knew what else she might confess to before the night was over? And there were some things she simply could not confess.

She snatched the parchment from Hermione's hand. It all came back to her as she swallowed nervously. Oh, shit! It must be that first page; I burned the others, but this one -- damnit, I forgot all about it!

Trying to finagle her way out of it, Ginny scrutinized the page closely for some phrase that would prove that this was not actually from her journal and that she had not written whatever it was that Hermione found so unsettling. But as she continued scanning the words, a silent horror spread through her core:

DJ, I must be out of my head. My behaviour has been simply appalling. I mean, it's bad enough I agreed to do this in the first place. Had I said no, Ron could have just denied everything, but then Malfoy would probably have insisted that Snape use Veritaserum, just for the enjoyment of seeing a Weasley ruined in public!

And the text continued, digging an ever larger hole for her to sink into. She read: Oh, bloody hell -- when do we learn to cast memory charms?

Of course, there was still more, but she didn't dare read another word. Ginny quickly decided to turn the tables on her brother's busybody girlfriend. Rather than let Hermione ask her anything else, she accused angrily: "How did you get this?"

She answered without hesitation. "It was wadded up on the floor by your bed. Lucky I found it, instead of one of your roommates. We may be able to put a stop to this without incurring any spiteful gossip or employing any memory charms. What does Malfoy--"

"Malfoy?!" Ginny interrupted Hermione to keep her from asking any questions that she would have to respond to with a lie. She wasn't sure how long the effects of Veritaserum lasted.

It was then that Ron rose to his feet, utterly incensed. Remaining calm was not something he did very well, especially considering that his sister had been out three hours past curfew with that -- that -- thing. He was getting more agitated by the minute, until finally, he could no longer sit still or stay quiet. "What the hell have you been up to, Miss Guinevere Weasley?!" He was absolutely livid, his face nearly as red as his hair. She had never seen him so angry.

"R-r-returning from the kitchens?" she stuttered feebly. She remembered the muggle phrase that Fred and George had so often employed when being grilled by their mother: Ask me no questions, I'll tell you no lies.

But Ron was not appeased. Pointing to Harry's map, he yelled, "We saw you and Malfoy on the Marauder's Map, together, right there! Exactly why were you with that demon spawn?"

Praying the potion was finally wearing off, Ginny closed her eyes, fearing the worst. It had been a miniscule dose; perhaps she could pull this off . . .

"I've been . . helping him with a research project," she struggled.

"Oh, that's just great!" he roared. "My baby sister has been helping -- helping -- the Crown Prince of Slytherin House with a project! Fucking brilliant!"

Harry intervened, "Ron, calm down. You're going to burst a blood vessel!" Turning to Ginny, he asked her plainly, "What sort of project was it?"

The words slipped out almost without thought: "He wanted to find the Mirror of Erised. Evidently, he overheard you and Ron discussing it on the train, and he was intrigued. He's been seeking it since the first day of school. Thanks to your instructions, Harry, and your invisibility cloak," which she now pulled it out of her pocket and restored to its regular size, "he's now seen it."

Hermione jumped in at this point. "Why would Draco Malfoy be interested in the Mirror of Erised? And why in Merlin's name did you help him find it? What could Ron have denied?" She paused then asked suspiciously, "Did Malfoy blackmail you?"

Ginny sighed, "It's a long story, and I'm really tired. Can we discuss this tomorrow?" Hey, wait -- I didn't feel like I had to tell them everything that time. The Veritaserum must be losing its potency . . . and not a moment too soon! She tried not to sigh too loudly with relief.

"But we saw you together," Ron interjected. "Tell me you're not -- are you -- his girlfriend? His secret lover?" His face scrunched in disgust at the last word.

That was it: the one question she had been dreading. She managed to form an accusation instead of dignifying it with an answer. "Ronald Weasley, what a thing to say! Of course not!" Regaining full command over her faculties, she even managed to justify it to herself. Not in the truest sense; one brief, albeit hotly passionate, encounter does not constitute a relationship. So I am neither his girlfriend nor his lover.

Ron and Harry both breathed a sigh of immense relief. Hermione smiled a little at Ginny then took her aside. "Listen," she said as she held her hand, "we are really quite worried about you. If he ever does anything to harm you, believe me, the bastard will be sorry he was ever born." She continued sweetly, "You're not to blame, so don't waste one second feeling guilty. Just remember if there's anything you ever need to talk about -- sister to sister -- please know that I am here for you," saying the last part very seriously. "Now you get on to bed, dear."

"I know you are, Hermione. Thank you," Ginny said, smiling weakly and feeling instantly relieved. As she climbed the stairs to her room to get some much-needed rest, her mind asked, But if I'm not guilty, then why do I feel a strong need to repent?

~~~

Staring up nervously at his head of house, Draco's mind grasped about for a good lie. If I can even tell one; is the potion still working? "Yes, sir, I wanted to do a routine hall check, and I," he struggled, "I saw Miss Weasley down near the kitchens. She had been at the library -- she said she had fallen asleep in her book, and . . . and, well . . it's rather complicated," he finished weakly. Shit, that was my worst attempt ever! The potion is trying to force me -- but thankfully, it's finally weakening.

Whatever load of dung Draco was selling, Professor Snape was not buying it. "One evening's detention, Mr. Malfoy, for lying to a professor," he declared briskly. When Draco gasped, astonished that he would be punished, Professor Snape clarified, "It isn't your night for checking the halls, is it? I thought not. Besides, it's rather late for that, yet I can't imagine why you would be with Miss Weasley. It's not like the two of you would have been having a late-night snog session," he sneered. After thinking for a moment, he announced, "Three evenings' detention for her, then."

Now that's more like it, Draco thought smugly. Professor Snape entered his classroom and headed toward his office. The boy followed him blindly, blinking furiously to cope with the throbbing pain that was taking over his head. He suddenly remembered the hapless Darrin, Mr. Filch, and Mrs. Norris. Should I tell Snape about them? he wondered briefly. No, I'll only find myself in even deeper shit. Someone will find them. Sooner or later.

Snape turned to look at him. "Yes, Mr. Malfoy?" he asked, apparently confused as to why he was still following him. His head of house looked at him intently. "Something you wish to add?" Draco shook his head quickly, and Snape went to dispense some more justice. He grabbed a handful of glittery dust from a jar above his office fireplace. He tossed it into the flames and called out, "Minerva McGonagall!"

Her pointed, tartan hat and bespectacled eyes soon appeared in the fire. She smiled tiredly and asked, "Yes, Severus?"

"Ginny Weasley of Gryffindor House was out after hours. She is to receive three evenings' detention with me, beginning tomorrow evening at 7:00. Will you please notify her?"

"Yes, of course, Severus. I'll inform her in the morning. Good night," she said curtly.

Snape eyed his student and asked him irritably, "Why are you still here, Mr. Malfoy? Do you want another evening's detention?"

He said, "No, sir." Hedging for a moment, he explained, "I just wanted to apologize for my behavior. Good night, sir."

"Good night, Mr. Malfoy."

Turning to leave, he stopped suddenly and turned around to ask, "Professor Snape? Do you have a good, strong headache potion I could take? My head is killing me." He said that he did and summoned a small vial of it.

"There, that should help -- although nothing is better for headaches than sleep," his professor said pointedly. "Now go straight to bed, Draco. It's well after midnight, and if you are even one second late for my class tomorrow, I shall be forced to give you the same punishment that I gave to Miss Weasley."

"Yes, sir. I understand." On his way downstairs to his dorm, he drank the foul-tasting headache potion, coughing and sputtering as the viscous liquid coated his throat. Why is it that all healing potions taste repulsive? The remedy is almost always worse than the affliction itself. He fell asleep the moment his head hit the cool, silky pillow case.

The next morning, Draco missed breakfast and his morning lessons. He had been far too exhausted to get out of bed, as the headache potion had made him very groggy. Perhaps the combination of the two potions taken so closely together, not to mention the almost continuous adrenaline rush he had experienced the previous evening, had just kicked his arse.

When he finally did wake up, it was 11:20. The room was empty, and when he noticed the time, he panicked. Shit, I've got to talk to Blaise! he reminded himself as he bolted out of bed and headed directly for the showers.

He made it to the Great Hall just in time for lunch. Seeking out his best friend, he located him quickly and pulled him aside before he'd had the opportunity to sit down. "Blaise, we need to talk."

"Hey, Malfoy. What's up?" he asked casually.

"Not here. Somewhere private," Draco murmured.

"Can it wait till after we eat? I'm starving."

"All right. I'm completely famished, since I had a lie-in."

"Yeah, I wondered where you were this morning. Snape didn't look too happy that you skipped his class."

Draco sighed as he filled his plate with roast beef, steamed carrots, potatoes, and pudding. The boys spoke very little during the meal. When Draco saw that his friend was finishing up, he motioned for them to leave and have their conversation.

Blaise was at a complete loss as to explain Draco's strange behavior. What could be so crucial that he would actually leave the table in the middle of a Quidditch discussion, especially with their upcoming match against Ravenclaw? It would be an easy win, and he never missed an opportunity to bash the utterly incompetent Cho Chang. Although the entire Slytherin team agreed she was quite a looker, they claimed she was picked for her "talent at riding the captain's broomstick" rather than for her actual flying skills. As the other team members laughed raucously, the two friends quietly slipped away from the table.

Once they were well away from the doors of the Great Hall, they stopped. Draco looked at Blaise intently. "So what gives, mate?" Blaise inquired, utterly clueless as to what could be bothering him. "Is something wrong?"

"It's over, Blaise. They know."

"What's over? Who knows what?" he asked, utterly baffled.

"They. Know." Draco explained carefully, "My father's friends know about Marianne."

After he stared at him significantly for a few more moments, realization dawned on Blaise. He breathed, "Oh, shit."

"You must stop all communication with her immediately. Deny any knowledge of her heritage. It would probably be best if you get another girl right away, to ensure plausible deniability." Blaise had never seen his friend look so serious in all his life. "I mean it, Zabini. You are treading in dangerous waters here. I've seen what Lucius can do to people," he whispered, "without even batting an eye."

Blaise became rather defensive. "And how would you happen to know all this?" he asked in a raised voice. "Did he just all of a sudden feel like sending you an owl from his prison cell and sharing his plans with you? Another of his father-son chats you love so much?" he asked with contempt.

"No!" He hesitated but then added, "I can't tell you how I know, but that's not important anyway. What matters is that it's true. Watch out for yourself, especially around Theodore Nott. If you can, try to arrange a trip home for a few days. Please." Just then, Draco spotted some students coming up the hall; he immediately changed the tone of the conversation and laughed loudly, "So I said to him, if you think I find that cow remotely attractive, you are out of your fucking mind! I wouldn't screw her with your dick!"

They laughed spontaneously, carrying on as if they had been having a grand old time. They continued talking in this vein until the group was well out of earshot. "Blaise, just promise me you'll be careful," Draco pleaded.

"I'll be fine. Don't worry about me," he confirmed, the gratitude apparent on his face.

"Thanks, Malfoy."

Draco nodded and patted his friend's shoulder. "Hey, no problem. What are brothers for?"