Winning over the Weasleys by emeralds in the dark.
Chapter 5 Completely blameless. A Quidditch scrimmage and a shag
on a Saturday morning. A glorious combination.
Draco had flown circles around Not and Zabini during their
match, feeling the fittest he had been in years.
He credited that to the God awful green juice Ginny had
forced on him and those muggle supplements he'd begrudgingly
started taking. Perhaps vitamins were better
than magic, not that he'd ever admit it.
Sweat soaked and grinning, he was more than ready to flew to
her flat, jump in the shower and bounce Ginny on his cock like
she was made for it. Then perhaps a nap, lunch and a
leisurely day together. His Saturday was shaping up to
be bloody brilliant. Not, on the other hand, needed
to quit smoking. He was winded after two passes
of the Quaffle, which made Draco feel bitingly superior.
Stepping into the hearth at Not Manor, he called out his
destination and let the green flames whisk him away to Jinny's
sunny London flat, fully expecting the warm welcome he'd
been anticipating all morning. What he didn't expect was a dish
to go flying past his face and smash against the wall.
Draco had to side eye the wreckage before he looked toward
her. Well, I know you can't be that
mad at me, Red. You've got better aim than that.
Why is Ronald on the front page of the Prophet with a half
dressed Daphne green grass hanging off him?
Ginny tossed the newspaper at Draco.
He was beginning to develop a truly unsavoury relationship
with the press. Took a glance down at the
offending photo, Daphne looked like she was hanging on for dear
life, mascara smeared, one hand lost in Weasley's shirt buttons.
While his expression was one of unfiltered horror, he may have
forgotten that Daff was a bit of a lush.
How is this my fault? He asked, stepping into the
kitchen, fully aware she was wielding a knife as she sliced
fruit. You mentioned wanting to set him
up on a date. She accused.
Now next thing I know he's out with Green Grass who just
happens to be one of your friends.
She shoved off him as he tried to wrap himself around her.
Also, you stink. She wrinkled her nose as his
sweat drenched quidditch body clung to her freshly showered
one. I'll wash up, but not before you
tell me why you're so angry. Draco leaned against the
counter. It's a date, and by this photo
it looks like it went well. That was a lie.
Draco knew full well he was about 5 hours away from being
dragged into the Leaky Cauldron, loose and verbally scorched by
the Weasel. He needed a plan fast.
Some serious damage control was in order, and you'd have to move
quickly if he wanted to prevent this from turning into a full
blown disaster. I don't know what you're up to,
you, Malfoy, but it's something. Jinny narrowed her eyes at him,
knife still in hand. I had a coffee with Hermione
this morning. I asked her how her date went
with Wood. Yet all she could talk about was
the spectacle of Ron showing up at Casanova with Daphne
Greengrass, whose hands were apparently down his trousers at
the dinner table. Draco stifled a laugh.
She says she could barely focus on Oliver because of the
obscenity of it all. Now, I know Hermione can be
dramatic, but I highly doubt she imagined all this.
Jinny turned then, lifting the knife just under his chin, and
Draco grinned. He loved it when she threatened
him. Pressing 2 fingers to the
blade's edge, he tilted it down before beginning to strip off
his filthy clothes. Yes, fine.
I introduced your brother to Greengrass.
What of it? He started kicking off his
Quidditch gear. You wanted me to be friendly,
didn't you? The bloke hadn't been on a date
in, what, four years? And if Grainger has an issue
with it, or if your brother just happened to go to one of the
very few wizarding restaurants in Diagon Alley at the same time
as Grainger and would, well, he shrugged.
All foe in the sense I fail to see how that's relevant to the
good deed I so graciously performed.
He puffed up his chest as if he were completely blameless.
Draco Malfoy doesn't do a good deed unless there's something in
it for him. Jinny leaned over the counter,
biting into a piece of pineapple, the juices dripping
down her chin. Draco mourned that pineapple,
wishing it was her cunt squirting for him, dripping all
over his cock. My return is you, love.
He murmured. Keep looking at me like that,
and I'll let you choke me until I'm begging to be a good boy for
you. He pulled on his jock, his cock
jumping free. Truthfully, he had been hard
since that last goal, basking in the thrill of victory and
imagining her mouth wrapped around him in celebration.
Don't try to sweet talk your way out of this, Draco.
Jinny scoffed, though the heat in her voice betrayed annoyance.
And besides, you enjoy the choking more than I do.
She flicked her wrist dismissively, returning to her
chopping, but Draco knew what he'd stirred.
If he slid a hand beneath her sleep shorts right now, he had
no doubt he'd find her soaked. I'm showering, he said, backing
toward the shower, watching her carefully.
But put me out of my misery. Be spread on the counter when
I'm done. He winked.
Then I'll take you to lunch at Cafe Lunette.
Jinny was always ravenous. After they shagged.
They had lunch together, discussing heading back to the
Manor to lounge in the terrace, basking in the rare bit of
English sun. Although apparently Jinny had
made other plans, she wanted to meet their friends at the pub,
and when Draco protested, citing very reasonable excuse that he
had already seen not and Zabini earlier that day, she merely
widened those devastating puppy dog eyes and most unfairly
shoved up her tits. So naturally, he was a complete
loss for words. They ended up lounging in the
sun for an hour or two, Jinny napping peacefully in his arms
and their glasses of iced tea brewed fresh by Topsy sweating
in the heat. It was an ideal moment, an
Oasis, until his owl ruined it. The bird swooped down, parchment
clutched in its talons. Jinny barely stirred, shifting
against his chest as he unrolled the note.
His groan, however, had her head tilting to look at him.
Make me in the Leaky before the others or double you.
What's that? She asked, not bothering to lift
her sunglasses. Draco rolled up the note.
Just have to take care of some business in Diagon before
meeting everyone at the pub. I'll meet you there.
Everything all right? I need to sign a few items at my
solicitors. He lied.
Draco hated lying to Ginny, but he also couldn't let her know
that after spending the morning defending his honour, he was
actually scheming with her brother.
Arriving at the Leakey, he spotted Weasley slumped over a
pint, looking dishevelled. Draco slid into the seat across
from him. Looks like the date went well.
Ron roared. Went well, went well.
He gestured wildly, sloshing his ale.
She pounded back six martinis, nearly shoved her hands down my
trousers, and then she reched all over my shoes.
He shuddered. Oh, and Hermione was pissed.
It's mangled now. Ron grumbled, slumping further
into his glass. She likely thinks, but I'm just
looking for some meaningless shags with random witches.
She may be pissed, but she's only been talking about you
since her date with Wood. Draco said smugly.
Not one good thing about their date, just all the foul bits
about yours. How do you know that?
Draco shrugged. Your sister told me this
morning, apparently over coffee you were all Grainger could talk
about. Which means I was right.
She still feels something for you, and it's not friendly
because no way would Parkinson get pissed if your sister's
hands were down my trousers. Ron gagged.
Never talk about my sister's hands down your trousers,
fairpoint. Draco conceded.
Ron hesitated. Hermione really said that?
Draco nodded, and apparently under layers of heavy annoyance.
But still. It means that Grainger is the
one who wanted her hands where Daphne's were.
What, what, what now? Ron asked, a tremor of hope in
his voice. You're going to let her know
Greengrass was using you? The whole date was just for
press and to piss off Pusey. She'll feel pity, but not too
much. More importantly, she'll feel
righteous about it, which will almost make her feel bad for
feeling smug over your hurt. Draco smirked.
And that helps me ow you shrug it off?
Draco instructed. Make some offhand remark about
how you weren't feeling it anyway.
Say you went out with Daphne because you figured it was time
to put yourself out there, since clearly she was.
That sounds manipulative, Ron catechized.
Draco rolled his eyes. Everything is manipulative,
Weasley. The key is to make it subtle, he
stretched languidly. Spin it around her, make her
start thinking about why it bothers her so much, then ease
your way back in, get her alone in friendly situations, and
stoke the flame a bit more. You strategize and you redirect
and you seduce. Draco knew this was the only way
to properly backtrack the Daphne debacle.
Look what we have here, a lion and a snake.
Pansy materialised at their table and sat to beside Draco.
Zabini followed close behind, giving her a pat on the arse as
she shoved over. Ron's eyes darted between them
all. There's a disproportionate
number of Slytherins at this booth.
Not to worry, Weasley. Theo guided a flushed Potter to
the seat beside Ron. I've brought you one more lion.
And does this even things out? Saw the Prophet.
Harry grimaced. Pansy hoofed.
Daphne's not usually that over indulgent.
Sabini let out a snort. Not that over indulgent, and
she's a good girl. Pansy shot back.
She's going through something right now.
Draco coughed. Yeah, apparently 6 martinis and
Weasleys fly. Pansy swatted his arm.
Please don't remind me. Ron buried his face in his
hands. You're all early, Jinny observed
as she strolled him from the street, raising a brow at the
odd collection of so-called friends gathered at the table.
She tossed herself down beside Savini.
He looked far too pleased to be sandwiched between Pansy and
Jinny. Am I late?
Hermione appeared at the edge of the table seconds later,
scanning the group with suspicion.
Hi Mione. Weasley blurted out.
Hi. Hermione brushed off the
greeting. Seems the rest of your night
went well. She nudged Potter to squeeze
over the entire table, exchanged glances.
The tension was obvious, and Draco took his cue.
This was his moment. He still needed information on
George. He'd take the blow.
Not from what I heard. Draco drawled, stretching his
arm along the back of the cushions.
Unfortunately for the Weasel here, our sweet daff was using
him for the press. Wanted to piss off her ex and
Ginger just got caught in the crossfire.
Draco laced his words with the right amount of malice to make
it believable. Ron rumbled, but caught on
quickly. Yeah, as if it wasn't obvious by
how she kept bringing up Pusey. Jinny suspiciously eyed him and
Ron. And how do you know that, Draco?
She questioned. I told him.
Pansy cut in, sipping her drink. All Dudley did this morning was
whinge about how many howlers she got from Adrian.
Hermione blinked, her face falling from annoyance to
something akin to giddy. Ron cleared his throat.
It's all right. He said with a shrug, playing
his part. Florida State, and wasn't
feeling it anyway. Just figured I should get back
out there, seeing as everyone else was.
He gestured vaguely between Draco and Ginny, then toward
Theo and Potter. And, well, I heard you were too.
So. Ron finished at Hermione.
Brilliant, bloody brilliant. Draco couldn't have orchestrated
it better himself. Oh, I, well.
Hermione stammered until a broad shouldered body loomed over the
table before Weasley could capitalize on her flustered
state. What a group.
A familiar voice chuckled. Nice to be out with a pint,
though. Oliver.
Wood appeared by Granger's side. Hermione stiffened, immediately,
flinching at the sound of his voice.
Because of course she'd invited him.
Grabbed you a glass of wine, Hermione.
Oliver noted as he summoned a chair, since there was
physically no more room in the alcove.
Ron was visibly trying not to scowl as Wood got cosy beside
Grainger. How did the rest of your evening
go, Weasley? Oliver grinned.
Saw the Prophet this morning. Those photographers always catch
the worst angles. Ron's face turned bright red,
usually a look Draco enjoyed pulling out of him.
Yet Draco knew he would have to take the Bludger.
He'd already reassigned himself to being on the beating end of
Ginny's broom for it later. What?
You know he drowned tugging his cuffs.
I've been investing in regrowth Elixir, I'm sure they'd love to
have you in their trials. Could clear up that receding
hairline you've got going on. Theo smashed his drink all over
the table. Draco.
Ginny scolded. Thankfully she was sitting
beside Pansy, otherwise he'd have earned A pointed elbow to
the ribs. Malfoy, that's incredibly rude.
How? My only cut in.
Yeah, there's nothing wrong with his hairline, mate.
Ron added quickly, though he was clearly hiding a smile behind
his hands. Draco raised his palms.
No, no, not trying to be a twat. He said, feigning sincerity.
It was just a friendly offer. They've been looking for
candidates that perhaps I should have asked you away from the
table. It's not hair loss.
Woods said defensively, his voice cracking as he tried to
sound unaffected. Just a bit thin from my keeper's
helmet, right? Draco nodded.
Ron looked positively gleeful while Jenny was glaring knives
at him. If only she knew this was all
for the greater good. Mynee, I'm heading to South End
tomorrow to finish up that case I'm working on.
Ron added, grabbing a handful of crisps.
Figured you might want to come. You could visit that bookstore
you like. We could grab a bite after.
Hermione lit up, shifting forward over the table.
That sounds lovely. Before she could finish, Oliver,
who had started a conversation with Ginny about the upcoming
Quidditch schedule, dripped an arm over Hermione's shoulder.
I thought you and I might want to go for dinner tomorrow.
He murmured into her ear. Ron's grip on his glass was near
the point of shattering. Draco knew he needed to
interject. Bottlemere's still last in the
League, he mused. Must be rough all those shite
match schedules, because you lot can't seem to win.
The moment the words left his mouth, a ZAP from a stinging
jinx seared his thigh. Draco winced, doubling over as
Ginny slid her wand back into her pocket.
Oliver, Hermione, do you want to grab another round with me?
Ginny asked sweetly. Both Wood and Grainger looked
surprised, but agreed. Draco tried his look.
And get me another whiskey knife, you can put it on my tab.
Ginny forced a charmed smile through gritted teeth, which was
never a good sign. Oh, I'm putting this entire
boost tab on you. Draco growled lowly as Jinny
walked away and then turned to Ron, who was wheezing with
laughter, wiping tears from his eyes.
You owe me for that, Weasley. The boarding comment was a tad
much, Blaze noted. Why are you being such a prick
to Oliver? Harry finally cut in.
Ron, you shouldn't be laughing about it.
I think you should be meaner to the bloke.
Ron shot back. He's hanging over Armiony.
Harry sighed. I'm not going to be mean to
Oliver. I like Oliver, it's not his
fault you haven't admitted you like her.
Pansy grinned. The remark about her dating
someone first was quite manipulative, Weasley.
Well done. Ron's head snapped up, looking
around wildly. So everyone knows then?
It's painfully obvious, said Theo airily, almost as bad as
when Draco was pretending he wasn't shagging Red all over the
place. Honestly, no one at this table
can keep a secret except Potter and me.
Not something to be proud of, Draco defended.
Bloody hell, Get Me Out of this booth.
I can't stand listening to that. Ron shoved his way out.
Draco didn't hesitate to follow. No, he wasn't letting Weasley
storm off and flew home without holding up his end of the deal.
He'd done his part. Fucking hell, Jinny might
actually smash a plate over his head this time for taking so
many jabs at her best friend's date.
Weasley. Draco stomped after him.
Ron spun around. All you've done is posture
further into his arms. Look at her.
He said, jabbing a finger toward the bar where Hermione was
laughing at something Oliver had said.
And Jinny was smiling along. To be fair, from this vantage
point, it didn't look great. Draco exhaled, raking a hand
through his hair. Fucking hell, I'm going to have
my bollocks ripped off by your sister for being such a cunt
tonight, and all to make you look like less of a git.
He gestured broadly. So I want my end of the deal.
Ron looked unconvinced, so Draco pressed on.
She agreed to go with you to South End tomorrow.
Make it more than friendly. Take her to a restaurant instead
of the brown bagging fish and chips on that bloody park bench.
A restaurant? Draco was nearing his limit.
Yes, Weasley, a restaurant. I know this may be difficult for
you, but perhaps, perhaps you could try paying attention to
whatever book she's looking at in the shop and, I don't know,
dust off that second year reading level and actually help
her pick something out instead of complaining about her hobby.
I can read at a higher level than second year, ye prat.
Ron shoved. Debatable.
Ron frowned, but after a moment he reluctantly sighed and
nodded. Your end?
Draco prompted. Ron cursed.
George has been having a rough time sourcing ingredients since,
well, since Fred. Fred was the mastermind.
Beyond the negotiations, George was more of the ideas.
He's looking for some help with that bit, and I don't think he'd
want it to be you being who you are and all.
He trailed off, eyeing Draco up and down as if he were covered
in sludge. Isn't Zabini into the potion
trade? Ron continued, pointing toward
the table where Jenny had just retaken her seat beside Blaise.
But he knows about sourcing ingredients.
Weasley finally finished, looking at Draco expectantly.
Tomorrow, toe that bloody friendship line, all right?
Make her look at you like someone shaggable.
He gagged. I'll plan the next step.
All right, all right. Brilliant.
Now I want you to figure out how I meant to win over your
parents. With that, Draco turned on his
heel and strode back toward the table, leaving Ron blinking
after him. That night, when they got back
to the Manor, Drago and Ginny had a proper row about his
behaviour toward Hermione and Oliver.
Draco pleaded innocence, swearing up and down that he'd
never be kind to would on principle.
He played for the rival team. Obviously there was no deeper
motive. He wasn't sure how much of that
Jinny believed, considering every time he tried to nuzzle
into her neck, she twisted away every attempt and an apology was
denied. Even the light kisses behind her
ear, the ones that always worked, were met with an eye
roll before she turned her back on him entirely.
This was how Draco found himself in the bathroom, gripping the
sink, sporting a raging hard on with no interested party to help
him out. Helping Ronald Weasley was going
to be the death of him, and if he wasn't careful, possibly the
death of his relationship. Which was ironic really,
considering all he was trying to do was secure it.
He told Weasley he'd handle the next stage, but now he needed
Ron to do his part. Woo Grainger during their day in
Southend, trying to figure out how to push them together kept
Draco up almost all night. He needed to speak to Zabini.
He'd need to nudge Blaze into a meeting with George, though
knowing Zabini, he'd want something in return.
Scheming was turning into a full time fucking job.
His saviour arrived the next morning in the form of a
scrolled invitation, sealed with the Parkinson Crest.
Draco cracked it open only for glitter to explode in his face,
waking Ginny in the process. He cursed as he battered away
the floating sparkles, eyes adjusting to the curvy magical
lettering that scrawled in the air.
Draco Malfoy and Ginevro easily. Please join Pansy Parkinson for
her birthday celebration on Saturday night at the Ministry
of Sound. Dress code cocktail.
Slutty kiss kiss Parks. That was it.
No other details, no RSVP option.
Likely these same glitter filled monstrosities had landed in
every bedroom this morning, including Grainger and Weasleys.
Sweaty, booze infused clubs, dancing, low lighting.
This was the recipe they needed for the final push.
Ginny yawned. Cocktail slutty.
Draco tossed the invitation aside and flopped back onto the
bed. For the love of all that is
magical, please wear one of those muggle corsets or a mini
skirt. He hoped she'd slept off last
night's irritation. Ginny hummed.
I still half lidded for your behaviour last night.
Perhaps I'll wear a jumper on joggers.
She leaned in, pressing a kiss to his mouth, then sucked his
bottom lip between her teeth. Draco groaned.
He knew she was always wettest in the morning, and he intended
to make good on that knowledge. Whatever you were.
He rolled her back onto the pillows.
Just know it'll be on my floor the moment we get back here.
Ginny's nails skimmed down his back.
Are you going to behave? Draco dipped his head, pressing
pulsing kisses along her throat. Only if you want me to.
He sucked along her freckles. But don't pretend you haven't
always loved a bad boy, Red.