The floorboard creaked beneath Ginny Weasley’s slipper-covered foot as she crept as quietly as possibly across the dark house. It was passed the witching hour, and everyone else was fast asleep, including her guests. She should be as well, by rights, but ever since the Malfoy’s stopped in on their way to London, she hasn’t been able to stop her mind from spinning. For months now Ginny and Asteria Malfoy had been in contact through the post and the Floo, hoping to repair some of those school-day wounds that still lingered. Though both Ginny and Draco’s wife doubted if any of those remained. Draco worked underneath Harry in the Ministry of Magic, and nearly every night for the past month Harry and Draco had been remaining at work far into the night, and the month before that Draco had been at the house, locked away in Harry’s study while they worked. Their husbands were seeing more of one another than they were seeing of them, so it was only natural that the two women started speaking, and when they needed a place to stay the night, Ginny didn’t even hesitate when they asked. And now she was just restless.
Another floorboard squeaked beneath Ginny’s foot, this time at the bottom of the stairs. Her lips tightened and she clenched her teeth. Curse this old house anyway! It had taken ages for the children to finally settle down and sleep so if she woke them now…
But she wouldn’t. They were upstairs, and she was already nearly in the kitchen. She was, in fact, pushing the door open. A chink of bright light greeted her that grew larger and larger as she stepped further into the room and she was forced to shield her eyes.
“Ginny? What are you doing awake at this hour?” It was Draco who spoke. His voice was slightly gruffer than when they had been in school, where it had been as slippery as he was. He had changed a lot since Dumbledore was killed. Since the defeat of Voldemort. He had changed for the better.
Ginny blinked a few times, and to her embarrassment saw that Draco wore nothing but a pair of plaid boxer briefs. Her cheeks turned pink as the last time she saw him dressed in so little filled her mind. She had wanted him then, back in her fifth year. To this day she doesn’t know why, only that she did. He was her first, though she swore to Harry that he was.
“Er…couldn’t sleep. Y-you?”
She was very aware of her fuzzy slippers and torn pyjama shirt. Suddenly she wished very much that she had worn one of her more eye-appealing pieces of nightwear that Fleur had insisted she buy the last time they went shopping. Self-consciously, she wrapped her arms around her torso as she pulled the door of the refrigerator open to distract herself.
“About the same.”
Ginny searched the contents for something unknown until she figured she was being obvious and pulled out the carton of milk. She poured herself a glass, and without offering any to Draco replaced the milk in the fridge. She took a long sip before she turned around.
Draco was standing right in front of her, his steel-colored eyes examining her face carefully. She swallowed hard, very aware of how muscled his body was, how his long hair – now receding slightly – was slightly messy from lying in bed for too long without rest, and how very close they stood. She was also very aware of how hard her heart was pounding, how her stomach was tied up in knots, and how she longed to reach out and touch him.
He seemed oblivious to this, however, because he leaned around her and opened up the refrigerator again and pulled out the carton that Ginny had just replaced. He set the carton on the counter top, relieving Ginny by putting some distance between them. He examined the ebony-coloured cupboard doors for a few moments before turning back to Ginny. “Which cupboard are the glasses in?”
“Oh!” Ginny sprang forward, feeling her cheeks grow warmer yet. Her hand immediately went to the cupboard directly in front of Draco and she pulled out a glass identical to her own.
Draco mumbled a quiet thank you and poured some of the creamy liquid into the clear tumbler. They stood in silence for some time, sipping on their milk. The silence was anything but comfortable, and Ginny searched for anything – anything ¬¬– to say to the man. But flashes of their first night together kept coming to her mind, and she just couldn’t get any words to come out.
The soft clatter of glass hitting metal brought Ginny back to her senses. She looked quickly over at Draco, who had just set his glass in the sink. She realized hers was empty too and mimicked his action before following him up the stairs, muttering “Good-night” and turning into the bedroom that she shared with Harry.