Winning over the Weasleys by Emeralds in the Dark Chapter 6
Lick it, slut. Well, well, what do we have
here? Draco clicked as he stepped into
his bedroom, eyes indulging at the sight before him.
Ginny was bound to his bed, her legs spread, ankles shackled to
the posts. Her wrists were tied together
and secured above her crown to the headboard, her body arched
in submission. The Gryffindor school skirt she
wore was bunched up around her waist.
She was Nicholas braless. Let me go, Malfoy.
She wriggled against her restraints, but all it did was
give him a better view, the wet gathering sticky in the dust,
tits bouncing at the movement. And why would I do that?
He prowled onto the mattress. Look at the catch I've made.
He sneaked a finger down the curve of her arse, dragging down
the back of her thighs, watching the ripple prickle at her flesh.
Jinny loved the game just as much as he did.
Don't touch me. She hissed, but Draco only
smirked. He slid his forefinger and
middle into her cunt, angling upward, pushing through the
resistance. Is that really what you want,
Red? He chuckled, his fingers
stretching her open, coaxing the moans she was trying so hard to
suppress. Fuck you.
She gritted, but the defiance only made him angrier.
Draco's free hand snarled in her hair, wrapping it around his
first three times before yanking her head back.
He forced her to meet his stare, and when he saw her, the
diabolical grin curling at her lips, he had the sudden madding
urge to lick it right off her face.
I'm going to fuck you hard and fast, he growled.
I'm going to ruin this tight cunt because it is mine now.
I'm going to keep you chained to this bed, using you as I please.
Do you understand me? Yes.
What was that? He wrenched her head back again,
just enough to make her wince. Yes, Daddy.
Fuck, she knew exactly how to hit the spot when she called him
that. Draco withdrew his fingers,
raising his arm, he brought the faded ink of his Dark Mark to
her mouth. Lick it, slut, he commanded.
This was her favorite. Ginny loved the fantasy of being
captured by a Death Eater, fucked and used.
She was lavishing it, her tongue greedy upon his veiny forearm,
spit bubbling down her chin. Draco knew what that meant.
She didn't want to be warmed up, she wanted him roar.
She wanted to feel his cock pushing inside her.
With no preamble, no hesitation, just brutal force, he
repositioned her so her arse was high in the air, his hands still
fisted in her strands to keep her exactly where he wanted her.
Pulling his forearm to her mouth, he lined himself up, his
cock throbbing against the plush lips of her cunt, hidden beneath
that biteable Quidditch toned arse.
He slapped it a hard, open palmed.
Jinny booked in response. You want my cock to stretch you
open? Draco growled.
You want to be taken? He thrust all the way in,
impaling her. The tight compression made his
head spin. Jinny let out a strangled Yelp
as she nearly collapsed forward from the weight of him, her
binds keeping her upright. Draco.
She muled, her hands swaying above her head.
Tell me. He demanded, slamming into her
again, setting the pace so punishing only Jinny Weasley
could handle it. He tilted her hips up, one hand
pressing down on her lower back, keeping her bent as his pelvis
smacked against the jiggle. I wanted this.
Jinny gasped. I've always wanted this.
Use me. Draco groaned, dragging her hand
up her spine before summoning his wand.
He whispered A Vibratus charm and coiled it around her waist,
pressing the vibrating tip of the hawthorn directly against
that nub of nerves he knew would have her squirting.
Harder, Draco, I need it harder. She begged, pushing back into
him. Draco gritted his teeth, so glad
he kept up with seeker training because he was wrecking her now.
Her walls were fluttering, squeezing like a fucking vacuum.
He was close, so fucking close, and he was going to make sure
Jinny felt it. That's it, love, that's it, he
praised. Let go for me, let go.
Jinny screamed his name as she thrashed in her shackles.
That was all Draco needed, all he'd ever need to tip him over
the edge. It didn't matter if this was his
first time or 40 years from now, the way she came around him,
milking him, it ruined him every damn time her cunt could bring
him to his knees. God's, you're fucking perfect.
He grunted, his climax pumping. His one hand slipped from his
grip, falling between the mattress and her body as he
waved his free hand over the manacles and the ropes to
release her. Jinny was panting, rubbing at
her wrists while Draco's hands smoothed over the marks on her
ankles. He reached for the salve on the
night stand, his cock still wet. He spread her legs open just
enough to rub the ointment into her skin, ingraining the sight
of white dripping from her skin. Jinny vibrated sedately, still
catching her breath, and Draco traced his initials against her
feet. Your parents might be on to
something, you know? He mused.
Licking my Dark mark. Quite a cry for help.
Jinny jerked her foot away, but Draco caught her ankle and
pulled it back. If I need help, then so do you.
She shot back, biting her lip. Your cock stands at full
attention anytime I pretend to be your captive.
Draco chuckled, pressing a kiss against the inside of her calf
and touché. Read practices in an hour.
I need to get going. Jinny said, sitting up.
Draco immediately pushed her back down.
Then we have an hour, don't we? Jinny laughed but shook her
head. If I give you everything now,
I'll have nothing left for the pitch.
She kissed him before rolling out of bed.
Draco sighed dramatically, watching her move through his
room. Harpy's season was one of his
favourites, and this year, for the first time, he wouldn't have
to pretend to be cheering for Falmouth.
This year he could proudly go to all her matches.
He could sit in the stands, yell himself hoarse and be openly
proud of her accomplishments. He'd even gone ahead and bought
one of the boxes at the Harpy Stadium for the season.
What do you have on this afternoon?
Jinny asked, casting an Evanesco to clear her legs before pulling
her hair up in a topknot. Do you want me to come back
later, or will you meet me at mine?
Draco hesitated for a fraction of a second, just long enough
for Ginny to notice, though she didn't press.
The truth was, he had plans. Specifically plans to get Sabini
into Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. It had only taken a bit of
manipulation to get Blaze on board, weaponizing Parkinson's
birthday, agreeing to let them use Narcissa's prized gardens to
cultivate Amortencia roses, which only grew at Malfoy Manor
and a handful of heavily guarded botanist greenhouses.
Draco was a negotiator, yet so was Zebini, so they struck a
deal. Blaze would show up at George's
shop under the pretence of needing another partner to help
in Port Nightlock, a rare and highly potent potion ingredient.
The price was steep, but ordering in bulk could make it
far more cost effective. Draco would act as the broker of
the deal. Perhaps George would come around
to the idea that Draco and Malfoy could be helpful.
If Blaze and George fostered a well intended business
relationship, Zabini could continue putting in a good word.
For him, it was all about playing the long game.
Draco reached for his wand. I'll meet you at yours later,
Red. I've got a few things to take
care of first. You don't have to come with me,
you know? Hermione glanced back at Ron as
they approached the shop. I know you don't enjoy shopping.
Well, reading. She smelled like rain, her hair
frizzling from the sea air. The weather was warm, and she
wore those muggle Jean shorts he loved with a simple tank top
that showed off the golden burst of freckles across her
shoulders. Ron did his best not to stare.
Ah, maybe they'll have some special edition of Quidditch for
the ages. He joked, shoving his hands into
his pockets. Play it more than friendly.
That was the goal, but bloody hell, how was he supposed to do
that? Hermione shot him a bemused
look. You do realise this is a muggle
bookstore, right? All right then.
Ron said, thinking fast. Tell me your favorite Muggle
books and I'll tell you if they sound interesting.
Hermione's head whipped around, her eyes wide with surprise like
he just suggested something astounding.
You want me to show you my favourites?
She asked suspiciously. Ron smirked.
I feel pretty confident I'll know them before you even pick
them out. Intrigued sparked in her
expression. All right.
Hermione said, walking over to a shelf.
It was about the width of his shoulders and a foot taller,
packed tightly with books, some stacked in double s and triples,
obviously well loved novels. One of my favorite books is on
the shelf. Ron scanned the spines,
searching for anything he recognised.
The memory hit him like a rogue bludger. 5th year Hermione,
knees tucked under her chin in the common room, rereading the
same damn book until the pages practically deteriorated in her
hands. Ron reached out to pull a worn
copy of Pride and Prejudice off the shelf.
This one, He said, holding it up.
The name Jane Austen was embroidered on the cover.
Hermione stared at the book in his hands like he just handed
her the moon. Her eyes shimmered.
How did you? Ron grinned, passing it to her.
I've known you almost my whole life.
Mayne you really think I'd miss that?
She blinked up at him, lips slightly parted.
I actually got worried about you in fifth year.
He chuckled. Thought you'd maybe suddenly
become a slow reader. It turns out you were just
rereading this one, what, a dozen times?
Hermione let out a breathy laugh, ducking her head.
I didn't think you'd noticed. Ron shook his head.
Of course I noticed. Just like I know your favorite
sweater is that old one of mine I gave you ages ago.
You always wear it when I come over from Muggle movie night.
Her cheeks turned pink. I know your favorite ice cream
is strawberry. He continued, watching her
reaction. You always go for the corner
pieces of the cake. You bite your lip when you're in
deep thought. You get headaches when it's
about to storm. Hermione swallowed.
What could go on? Ron added.
But we'd likely be here all day. He placed the book in her hands.
Hermione held it tightly, her fingers gripping the cover.
Ron and Hermione browsed the shelves.
She pulled out a book, and he'd read the back with an
exaggerated expression, usually making a joke about how boring
it sounded, But when? She led him over to the thriller
section. He actually lingered.
Ron spent quite a bit of time flipping through the blurbs.
He wanted to know if he could figure out the killer before the
protagonist did. And to his own surprise, when
they left the shop, he was holding a book of his own.
Now that I think of it, Hermione mused, glancing at his purchase.
John Grisham novels sort of suit you.
Ron raised a brow. Yeah, you know they turned that
one into a movie, right? What were you saying that I need
to finish this before our next muggle movie night?
Hermione rolled her eyes as they crossed the street, heading
towards an ice cream stand. You don't have to call it Muggle
movie night, you can just call it movie night.
She corrected, nudging him. Also, I'm not getting
strawberry. She announced.
Don't spoil your dinner. He warned, knowing full well
he'd made a reservation for the two of them in 40 minutes.
I'll try not to, Mrs. Weasley. She teased Rod and groaned.
Did I sound like mum just then? Hermione laughed.
Oh, absolutely. When they reached the counter,
the tired looking woman behind the stand barely glanced at
them. What can I get?
Yeah, mink chocolate chip. Ron nodded, and Hermione added.
Lemon sorbet? Ron blinked.
Lemon sorbet? Hermione shrugged.
He shook his head, pulling a few pounds before she could.
He slid the cash across the counter, accepting their cones
as the woman handed them over. You didn't have to do that.
Hermione beamed at him. Ron shrugged.
I invited you here. You could be spending the day
with wood. Hermione paused at that, her
tongue covering just above her sorbet.
The ocean breeze blew through them as they stood.
There isn't anything there, you know.
She said softly. Just one date.
He's very kind, but not really what I'm looking for.
Ron watched as she bit her lip, her brows knitting deep in
thought. Not what you're looking for.
He repeated, nodding then after a beat.
So what are you looking for? Hermione's hands fastened around
her cone. Someone who sees me?
Ron felt his chest tighten. Who could miss you?
He reached down, tucking A stray curl behind her ear.
Her eyes stayed on his. His heart slammed against his
ribs as, Merlin help him, he leaned in.
For a half second. Hermione's breath hitched, but
was that surprise in her eyes? Uncertainty.
Panic slammed into him and fuck, fuck, fuck.
He pivoted horribly and ran his tongue along her ice cream
instead. Hermione froze.
Her face was somewhere between dumbfounded and disappointed.
He couldn't be sure. My like lemon.
He blurted stupidly. Hermione pulled back, blinking.
Yeah, it's nice. Gods, at least he still had
dinner and Parkinson's party. Maybe somehow he could salvage
this blunder. It was mid afternoon when Draco
and Blaze approached Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, the bedlam of
the place making Draco's stomach churn.
Children spilled out of the doors, shrieking with laughter,
hands full of whizzing, popping and fizzing disasters waiting to
happen. The air was staunch with the
scent of something burning, what Draco hoped was just overly
sweet confectionery. It was a madhouse.
Blaze gave him an unamused look. I want a hundred of those roses.
82 Draco bargained. 100 Or I'm leaving.
Zabini counted. Draco glared.
You're supposed to be on my side.
The negotiation is happening with the ginger inside.
Who is more likely to slip me one of those puking pastels than
agree to this nonsense? Blaze simply stared.
Draco rubbed his temples. Fine, 100, but Parkinson isn't
getting a gift from me. That's on you.
You can deal with the wrath of Parks.
Draco clenched his jaw as Blaze swung the door open with an
intolerable chuckle. Stepping inside the chaos of the
Weasley shop, he strode up to the counter, making an active
effort not to touch anything. Children and teenagers alike
shoved past them in a whirlwind. At the counter, a bored looking
witch chomped on her gum, her quill flying at high speed as
she took order forms and rang up purchases.
She didn't even look up as she rattled off in the dullest voice
imaginable. Welcome to Weasley's Wizard
Wheezes, my name is Melita. How may I assist you in making
your pranks come true? Yeah, none of that.
We're here to speak with George Weasley.
Melita finally looked up, eyeing them from head to toe.
They looked entirely out of place in their posh pea coats
and perfectly pressed button UPS, all grayscale, crisp lines
and devoid of fun. Do you have an appointment?
Draco hesitated. Ah, no, Could you tell him Draco
Malfoy and Blaze Sabinia here to see him?
He tried, flashing his most winning smile.
Blaze Grit. You didn't make an appointment?
Draco scoffed. I didn't think I needed to.
Blaise closed his eyes, exhaling.
Unbelievable. Melita gave them both an
exhausted look, but with a flick of her wand, sent a memo zipping
toward the backroom. Draco could only hope that
George didn't immediately incinerate it.
Showing up without an appointment.
George burst from the back, arms crossed, looking slightly less
dramatic than he had pre war, but no less witty.
What can I do for my favorite ferret face?
Death Eater and his sidekick? He added with a classic Weasley
twin grin. I was really hoping at least one
of those nicknames would die out, but no, it seems like we're
just combining them now. I'd like to clarify I'm not his
sidekick. Blaze interjected.
That would be not. George tilted his head,
considering. What do you want?
I've been looking for someone who might help me in the market
for Night Lock. Blaze said bluntly.
There's only one dealer who supplies it in the UK, and the
Buster charges whatever hell he wants for it.
I only need it in moderation, but he's fleecing me.
Told me I'd get a discount if I bought in bulk or if I knew
someone willing to split the stock with me.
Blaze just had a nonchalant hand in Draco's direction.
Mavoy here suggested I might speak with you.
Draco leaned against the counter.
Thank Merlin it was Sabini handling this conversation, and
not not because Theo would have been insufferable about the
whole thing. Let's chat.
George said, motioning for them to follow him behind the
counter. Draco let Blaze go first,
stepping into the office, a space that could still have a
second desk, though it sat eerily empty.
George dropped into his chair, kicked up his feet onto his
desk, and beamed. So Malfoy suddenly thought of
his girlfriend's old dear brother.
Did he? George glinted.
This wouldn't have anything to do with the fact that he's been
sneaking around with Ron trying to put together some dim witted
plan on how my brother can finally shag Hermione, Would it?
He'd almost forgotten how deceptive and devious the
Weasley twins had been. This was a far cry from
negotiating with Percy. Beside him, Blaze boomed.
Malfoy is obsessed with the idea of making you not like him.
Which, personally I found hilarious considering he's gone
from being a stuck up prat to a full on hate mongrel, and now to
a stuck up prat vying for retention in the eyes of the
very family he ridiculed for years.
Sabini continued to laugh. Some might call it karmic
justice. He sank into the winged back
chair. Draco scowled and cursed under
his breath. Fuck your flowers.
Blaze shook his head. I'm upholding my end.
George nodded. All right, Malfoy, you're
desperate. Sabini's amused, and I'm
curious, not to mention in need of a good laugh.
He leaned forward, mischievous eyes twinkling.
So tell me what's in it for Georgie.
I'm quite serious about the night lock, Blaze added.
I've been running a potioneering business out of my estate for
nearly two years, and sourcing ingredients on my own is costly.
The stock you go through alone would make you a bargain buyer.
We could cut out this wanker entirely and strike a direct
deal. Draco glowered as a beanie.
No, what? Absolutely fucking not.
He snapped. I brought you 2 together.
I broke. At this, he turned back to
George, throwing his hands up. Weasley, I've helped Percy get
his bloody bill passed. I am undertaking the Herculean
task of getting Granger to look at your brother in a desirable
manner. What more do you want from me?
He jabbed a finger at both men. I am a very apologetic, now
grown man, filled with a deep and abiding remorse for my past
actions, who only wants to date your sister in peace.
That was passionate. Blaze clapped.
I have to admit, George Muse drumming his fingers on the desk
watching Hugh grovel is the highlight of my week.
Draco let out a frustrated hoof as he fell back into his chair,
tilting his head against the backrest in resigned defeat.
What can you offer me? George continued.
Not Zabini. You.
I bought a box at the Harpy Stadium.
Draco droned. Yet George's brow arched.
They play 6 home matches this season against the Falcons,
Puddlemere, Magpies, Kestrels, Cannons, and the Pride of
Poetry. You can use it for any of those
games. George considered.
I already have season tickets, yes, Where they are on the 88th
floor, practically ground seats. The box includes a full bar, all
on Malfoy tab. George hummed in thought, but
before he could answer, Blaze interrupted.
There's something about boozing and dining on Malfoy's tab that
is remarkably cleansing. Draco resisted the urge to
strangle the bastard. All right, I'll take the box for
their match against the Kestrels.
Draco exhaled, relieved, until George spoke.
But I'm also in need of a new sampler for certain products.
Can't be a businessman and keep paying second years anymore, nor
can I. Draco closed his eyes and
sighed. What kind of products?
Unfortunately, I can't let you sample something useful like
your beloved Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder, so you'll have
to be my Guinea pig instead. Draco's stomach dropped.
That sounds concerning. George ignored him.
I'm working on Engorgio gut, meant to give the Eater a
swollen belly to help them get out of class.
Mcgonigal's catching on to the pastels.
The last time he tested 1 of Weasley's products, they had
been to sneak Death Eaters into Hogwarts, which George wasn't
above bringing up, and the tail didn't need revisiting.
All right, I'll give it a go. George flared, brilliant, then
tossed under the small bag at Draco, unlabeled, full of what
looked like chewing gum. I'll need you to sample these as
well. Draco caught the unmarked bag in
his hands, staring at it like it might explode.
And these delightful contraptions Blaze had all
together. Stop pretending to hide his
gratification. Tof chews.
George explained. Similar to verita serum, but in
chewing form. It should last about two hours.
Effects can vary depending on the wizard, though.
And I'm supposed to test these by George Foscott.
I'm not evil. You can try them by the end of
next week and give me notes, he continued.
That would be spectacular. Draco was deeply regretting
every decision that had led him to this point.
In fact, he was almost starting to miss the days of having a
constant stream of war criminals and Death Eaters traipsing
through Malfoy Manor, of receiving the occasional
Crusiatus Curse when things didn't go according to plan.
Because honestly, he'd happily take a quick Crucio right now if
it meant he could call this entire thing off.
So if I sample these and don't die and give you full access to
the box during the Kestrels match, you'll lay off me?
Draco questioned. And oh, I don't know, perhaps
even put in a good word? George rocked back on his heels.
You've got yourself a deal, mate.
He clapped Draco on the shoulder.
Emphasis on the if you don't die, but yeah, I'll hold up my
end. Always a pleasure.
He conceded, giving an exaggerated nod before turning
toward the exit. George turned to Blaze.
Sabini set up a time. Yeah, we'll talk.
Wouldn't mind a partner on some of this stuff.
Blaze agreed. I'll send you an owl.
Draco stormed out of the shop, bell above the door clanging
violently as it nearly came off its hinges.
The second they stepped into Diagon Alley, Draco whirled on
Blaze. I fucking hate you, you know
that, right? Blaze was almost doubled over in
laughter, his entire body shaking as he howled in the
middle of the street. But I love this.
He wheezed. Listen, Draco, I love Parkinson,
she's everything to me, the future of mother, of my
children. But at the end of the day, I'm a
petty man. I told you I fancied Ginny once,
and you went after her anyway. Draco gaped at him.
This. Blaze gestured between Draco and
the shop. This isn't just me getting in my
slight. I promise I'm done now.
He raised both hands in surrender.
Prepare for a disgusting misuse of your tab on Saturday.
Draco flipped him off and Disapparated.
The bag of heinous products glitched in hand.
He was already planning to lock himself away while he tested
them, and likely set up a direct flu connection to Saint Mungo's
emergency ward.