Current music:	"Bonnie and Clyde" - Martina Sorbara
Entry tags:	draco/ginny, fic, rec

recs + untitled draco/ginny fic
Aww, remember the days when my entries consisted of linking you to places?

dgficexchange: Sign-ups start Sunday, January 13 and run for a week. ARE YOU READY?

Tonight Means Somewhere Far From here is this AWESOME mix sandi_wandi made from this prompt:

we're not alone but no one speaks English, so we're free
to look into each other's minds
and see what we're thinking like we always used to
i miss talking to you
- Harvey Danger, Private Helicopter

From The Darkness is a Prison Break fic from greyskygirl, non-compliant with S3's "Good Fences" episode. But it should be how the show turns out. Michael/Sara, NC17.

"He wouldn't want you to do this," he says flatly. "Hell, he wouldn't even want me to tell you about it." He is challenging her, Sara knows, waiting for her to latch onto the first flimsy excuse he presents.

Harry/Ginny art from itsbeenvery! Ginny is SO pretty.

Two things I was thinking about (haha because I only had 2 thoughts all day): 1) You never read about a fugly vampire. SHOW ME. 2) What fashion designer/clothing brand is considered all-American? Like, VERY American? Tommy? Is it because of the models/ads they use? Whyy?

Title: UNTITLED!
Ship: Draco/Ginny
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Chance meetings at the bar.
A/N: This is INCOMPLETE! I just keep adding scenes as I go along. 3 short scenes behind the cut. It's also really unedited.



She thought she recognized one of the patrons slumped at the counter. There was something about the color of the hair. Pulling her wraps off, she made her way to the bar.

“Butterbeer, please.” Butterbeer, she had learned, tasted consistently good in every country, and in her experience, Apparating or traveling by Portkey after a few drinks was not something she cared to repeat.

She dropped the requisite three Sickles on the counter and accepted her tankard. She took a large sip, wincing briefly as her tongue was scalded. She discreetly tried to confirm peripherally the identity of the man sitting on the stool beside her.

“I thought it was you,” she said in surprise.

Grey eyes focused on her face. “Yes?”

“Ginny Weasley,” she said, holding out her hand. “I was a year below you at Hogwarts.”

Draco Malfoy blinked, but that was the only visible reaction to her name. “Oh, yes. I remember you. Chaser.”

He shook her hand. His palms and fingers were cold and slightly sticky from the alcohol. She felt the calluses of Quidditch.

“Yeah, I was,” she beamed. When no response was forthcoming, she said, “So what are you doing here?”

“I have a meeting here.”

“Here?” She looked around the loud room.

“At the hotel I’m staying at, actually, but it’s not until later.”

“I never thought I’d meet you here.”

He shrugged, drank some more. “What are you doing here?”

“The lines at the Portkey and Apparation ports are backed up because of the holidays,” she said matter-of-factly. “It won’t be my turn for some time yet.”

She watched him turn the now empty tumbler around and around and then roll it back and forth across the bar, trapping it with his fingers.

“What do you do now?” she asked conversationally. “I work for the Ministry.”

“I’m not surprised,” he said without a trace of sarcasm. “I take care of the family business. Right now I’m handling the import/export division.” He straightened on the barstool and waved the bartender over for a refill of whiskey.

**

The next time she saw him, it was downstairs in a hotel bar in Rome. He recognized her, she could tell by the way his eyebrows lifted. She walked over to him.

“You again?” he said in greeting.

“Me again,” she agreed. “Another meeting?”

He made a sound of confirmation and checked his watch. She took a moment to observe him discreetly. He was dressed impeccably as before in an expensive dress robes, the knot of the tie loosened slightly so that she could see the pale throat. The glass on the bar looked like the same drink he’d had back in Berlin.

“You stay here often?” she asked amicably.

He shrugged. “It’s Zabini’s. He gets me a good room.”

“I’m waiting for someone,” she explained.

He seemed amused, but no more interested as he gave her a glancing look over, taking in the short cream dress and the heels that put her to within three inches of his height. “Nice,” he acknowledged. “Anyone I know?”

She folded her arms across her chest and said somewhat defensively, “It’s not Harry.”

He looked at her again, a warm appreciation shining faintly in his eyes. “I didn’t think it was,” he said quietly.

She flushed hot-cold and chose not to respond to the comment that sounded like a compliment. “I have to go.”

“So do I,” he said, straightening off the stool and swallowing the rest of his drink. Waving at the bartender, he asked for his tab and paid it. He gave her another study with dark grey eyes, this one longer and more lingering. “See you around, Weasley.”


**

It was back home in England when she saw him again, a couple months later. The pub was filled with patrons celebrating the outcome of the World Cup. She was squeezed into the corner booth, laughing through an alcoholic haze and a whole lot of cigarette smoke.

“Next rounds on me,” she called, and struggled to her feet, climbing over laps to extract herself from the booth.

She fought her way to the bar and ended up crammed between a bulky German and a…Draco Malfoy.

“Malfoy!” she exclaimed, tapping him on the arm.

He was nursing a tankard of what smelled like ale. “Weasley,” he greeted her cordially. “Nice night.”

“Yeah,” she said happily. She flagged down the bartender and requested another round of drinks before turning towards him again. “Did you catch the game?”

He shook his head. “I just Portkeyed in.” He nodded to the Wizarding Wireless blaring from the corner. “Sounds like it was a good game.”

“The best,” she agreed.

A surge of people behind her pushed her up against the bar. He reached out and caught her shoulder, pulling her slightly into him and away from the crush. Their elbows touched.

“Look, you want to come over? I’m sitting with some people from Hogwarts,” she offered.

He hesitated before answering. “No date tonight, Weasley?”

“No, just a group of us from school. You’ll find them all right.”

He relaxed, but shook his head. “Better not. I need to make an early morning. Thanks for the offer anyway, Ginny.”

She watched him leave, the pale blond head moving unhindered and unimpeded towards the door.