Every Rose Has Thorns

If you are a fan of Draco/Ginny, then sit back and pleasure yourself with the following text:

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The rain splashed off the hard tattered helmet resting on his head. Rather than deflecting the rain, it was simply allowing it to slide down, making his face a waterfall. Through squinted eyes he saw the hand of his commander fly through the air as he waved his arm, signaling to move ahead. With wand in hand he sprinted for anywhere he could take cover.

Fireworks of spells exploded around him as he and four others ran forward before diving in the mud behind the remnants of a stone wall. Lying behind the rubble, he couldn't see a thing as the water made pools in his eyes. Barely having time to think, he raised his wand arm up as he stood. With his back against the wall, he stood in his tattered ministry uniform. They'd been trekking for days, and the night of the raid, actually morning of the raid, it was a downpour. Figures...

Now only about fifteen yards from the house, his eyes turned to the leader again. The man pointed his middle and ring finger in front of his eyes, and then pointed them towards the home. He did this once more. Middle and ring, he thought, calming himself. Middle and ring means take one man with me and when done twice, I must kill anyone in my path, he thought, gritting his teeth. Turning to the man at his left, he screamed, "Let's go!" Before turning around the stone wall, he reached for his necklace, and placed his lips to the golden snake, in the shape of an "M".

Spinning around he was out in the open and sprinting forward. His legs had gone numb hours ago and felt like they were just a machine working without manpower. Every step he took he knew he was getting closer to danger. Now only ten yards from the home, he took cover behind a thick bush, just dodging a flash of green. As he flung himself in the puddle, he turned, expecting to see his partner splash next to him. But he wasn't there. Now in a panic, he flipped up to his knees, still bending over to be unseen.

Looking around frantically, it took seconds until he saw it. His man had been hit by a spell. Not dead, but hurt. He was lying with his back against a pedestal. Knowing that his boss couldn't continue alone, the man stumbled to his feet, becoming a dangerous target. Limping towards the silhouette of a strong man crouched on his knees, he slowly made his way across the open area, a moronic decision given the amount of spells flying in the air.

Watching his man... his friend, limp across the battlefield was too much. "GET BACK DOWN!" he screamed, knowing it was helpless. In seconds, a green flash of light appeared and struck the man full force. "SHIT!"

The man flung backwards and landed in a large splash on the ground. As though time was frozen, Draco was in another world. With his vision becoming blurry, he dizzily got back to his feet, and stumbled a few feet behind the trunk of a nearby tree. "HARRY!" he bellowed to the lifeless body all of ten feet away.

This was a raid conducted by the minister himself. These men were all Aurors. There wasn't supposed to be fatalities. This was supposed to go smooth. The world was spinning, and the rain was drowning him. He couldn't breathe. His lungs were closing. Lying on his back in a puddle, Draco Malfoy senses were dysfunctional.

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Flinching, he gasped for air as his eyes opened. The sheets clung to his sweaty thighs and bottom, and his head was pounding. His throat was dry all the mucus in his nose hardened. As his eyes dilated, Draco began recognizing his bedroom. The sights of his dresser that he'd remained in possession of since his childhood, the alarm clock he slammed every morning, and the red hair of his sleeping wife all comforted him as he returned his salty back to the sheets. Lying on his back facing the ceiling, he heavy, gasping breaths grew lighter and more fluid as his adrenaline levels returned to a normal state.

Lifting his legs off the bed, he peeled off the sheets, as his put his feet on the ground. Resting his elbows on his knees, he placed his head in his hands. All just a dream, he repeated in his mind over and over. Glancing to his right, he read the clock. 4:15. He would normally be starting to get ready for work in an hour.

Standing up, he stumbled his way into the bathroom, rubbing his eyes. Placing his palms on the edge of the marble countertop of the sink, he stared into the mirror. All just a dream. Harry is alive, and I'll see him in a few hours. Ginny's safe in the other room. All just a dream, he kept repeating in his head. Reaching into his boxer's, he scratched an itch as he walked back through their rather large bedroom. Taking his hand back out, he slid open the door and walked out onto the balcony as he got a welcome from early morning London.

The sight from their balcony was a good one, and possibly one of the reasons their house was so expensive. There new home was no Malfoy Manor, but it was a higher-class home, and would be thought to many as luxurious. Draco agreed and although he was in the city, the area he lived in was a Wizarding community - something that was unknown to the British Muggles.

Having married a half-blood had left his parents so unhappy that they did not even show up to the wedding, let alone provide hospitality in their estate. Draco would not have wanted to live with his parents even if they had approved of his wife. He had already pleased them his whole life, and as soon as he got the chance to leave them, the Death Eaters, and his past reputation, he seized it without regret.

Growing up isolated from anyone who was not pure, he had nothing else to believe. Once he saw that there were other choices, he became interested in the lives of others. Being frowned upon for being a Malfoy made him learn his family was trouble in the world, and when Voldemort was defeated, Draco felt an odd sense of joy. His lying was over, his parents would be jailed, and he would be free.

This however was not the case, and being the young adult that he was, when he was seized by the Ministry he was petrified. He explained his feelings to them, and provided them information that had helped land nearly fifty remaining Voldemort followers in Azkaban. This was still however not enough, and although many still did not approve, Draco was jailed in a low-detail facility until his 20^th birthday. For the first time in 20 years, he was free. The dim reality was, with no where to go, he was stuck. Being a fit, young person, the Minister of Magic was happy to give him the job of an "Auror apprentice".

Now sitting on a black metal chair, Draco watched the city, using the extremely comfortable temperature as a way to take his mind off of his recent nightmare. Draco could live in this moment forever; he was in comfortable boxers, and the 65º weather was perfect. Rocking backwards, his gold necklace rolled off his chest to the side of him. Picking it up in his hands, he slid his finger down the snake "M", and fell back into thought.

Dreams are a strange thing. They incorporate every little detail... anything to do to convince you their real; like they're dying to become reality.

This intrigued him. The subject alone could be studied for a lifetime. Minutes ago he'd be reliving a past Auror raid, and now he was outside on the deck of his beautiful home.

For the next few minutes, Draco just sat and admired the moment. It was a sight you'd see on a postcard. The sky was just lightening up, and few households were just starting their days. The cluttered houses along the streets of London yawned in unison with Draco as he stood up.

As he walked towards the sliding glass doors, he removed his boxers. The cold hit the uncovered area like ice, but the numbness faded. He put the boxers on the railing of the deck, and continued into the bedroom and then the bathroom. Entering the bathroom, he reached past the clear shower curtain to start the water. Twisting it right about one fourth of the way around, the showerhead began a steady stream of warm water.

Stepping into the tub, Draco let the water pound into his chest, and inhaled the little steam given off. After a few moments, he took a step backwards and let it cleanse his abdominal muscles. Reaching to the hanging rack, he picked up the bar of soap and rubbed it over his chest, and then to his stomach. After he was satisfied with his torso, he slid the bar of soap around his crotch. Next, the bar glided on up and down his legs, eating up the dried sweat that had formed from the rough night of sleep.

After finishing washing up, he picked up the container of hair soap and let some of the white liquid drop into his palm. After closing the container and placing it back on the shelf, he ran it through his hair, which was now a grown out buzz-cut. After thoroughly rinsing it out, he spun the handle back to "Off" and stepped out of the shower.

Pulling a towel the floating bar where it hung, he quickly dried off, before facing the mirror. Grabbing the bottom of it, he pulled, revealing several shelves of pills, creams, and colognes. Grabbing shaving cream and a razor, he squirted some cream in his hand before rubbing it over his scruffy face. If he didn't shave in the morning, by the end of the day he would have noticeable fuzz over the whole bottom half of his face.

Now picking up the razor, he turned on the sink faucet, rinsing it in water, before using it on his face. Turning and holding a weird expression, Draco did his best to keep his right cheek flat as he slid the blade down his cheek, flicking what was left on it in the sink after every stroke. After repeating the process on the opposite side, he finished by getting right under his nose and lips. Rinsing out the sink, he washed off the razor before placing it back in the cabinet. Picking out Ginny's favorite aftershave, he rubbed it on his cheeks, chin, and upper lip before returning it and walking back to the bedroom.

At this point still naked, Draco pulled open the bottom drawer of his mahogany dresser revealing jeans, faded all the same. Normally he'd get eaten alive for not wearing dress pants, but Friday's were casual. Pulling on a pair of briefs from the top of the dresser that he'd been to lazy to put away, Draco pulled on a pair of faded blue jeans.

Reaching to the drawer above it, he pulled out a thin, cotton, white button-up shirt, and slid his arms through each respected hole. Slowly buttoning up each one, he finished with twenty minutes to spare. The clock read 5:20, in a red font.

Deciding to just head in early, Draco prepared his briefcase and gave Ginny a kiss on the cheek before walking down the stairs into the living room.

The Malfoys' living room was about the size of their bedroom. Neither was overly huge, as well as their house. It was just a normal two story, Victorian home. However, its residents were where it was different from another home in London.

Walking through the room, Draco proceeded into their kitchen, which was one of the house's smaller rooms. With a black tiled floor, the room had a very modern look, although the inhabitants didn't need all the high end facilities. They had a refrigerator, stove, and a microwave, all in one corner, connected to a row of cabinets that followed the wall to the other end, where there were many tools and appliances. In the center of the room was a large oak dining table, and against the wall at the end was a matching hutch.

Approaching the toaster, Draco pressed it down, knowing it had bread in it. Every night Ginny would get the kitchen ready for him in the morning. It was extremely helpful, and usually meant that he had to do something back for her. Waiting next to it, he made a cup of instant coffee, which was never very satisfying in taste, but warm and awakening. When the toast popped, he grabbed it in a napkin, and headed back into the living room.

Grabbing the two pieces of bread and the napkin in between his lips, he used his freehand to reach into a pot filled with floo powder that sat on the mantleplace above the fire. Tossing it into the flames, he watched it turn green, and after putting the bread back in his hand, he cleared his throat and spoke, "M.O.M. Auror Operation Room 02!"

Closing his eyes, Draco felt the atmosphere of his quaint living room leave him, and dizziness came over him. Seconds later, he felt the scratchy red carpet that was at the floor of his office touch his feet. Opening his eyes, he looked around his empty room. There were two desks with computers at each, and the door was open. Outside of the door was a hallway, and along that same wall there was a window in front of Draco, and Harry's desks. The door also had a window on the upper half of it.

Placing the toast on a stack of papers at his desk, he opened the door and looked out into the hallway. Most of the receptionists and other workers were already there. Turning to look at the clock above the fireplace in between the two desks, he realized that he was only about ten minutes earlier than usual.

Sitting at his desk, Draco began to search through messages on his computer he'd received overnight. All the same old shit, he thought, lying back with his hands behind his head. Harry should be in soon. Then their boss would have some mindless thing for them to do.

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And thus, chapter one concludes. Please leave a review. Thanks.