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Pride and Sin

MidnightxRed's Prompt for the DG Forum 2009 Summer Exchange

Basic outline: Ginny admires Draco's skill as a Seeker.

Must haves: Some admiration of his skill but not over the top, she has to stay in character. Some jealousy towards said skill.

No-no's: Anyone OOC. Draco catching Ginny in the act.

Rating range: Anything the writer chooses.

Bonus points: "If only my butt could look that good in Quidditch robes." If that could be worked in somewhere.

It really was quite unfair, actually, for anyone with a Y chromosome to have such a nice arse. Ginny Weasley was not-so-secretly watching the Slytherin Quidditch team practice, doing a bit of reconnaissance that she felt was deserved, considering the upcoming match between Gryffindor and Slytherin. Although, of course, the usual idea behind reconnaissance is to do it a little bit more subtly than gawking up at them from outside of the showers, she thought to herself histrionically. She was rather unwilling to move anywhere else that might actually have more cover, though, because she had a rather perfect view of Draco Malfoy's arse from here.

Which isn't the reason I'm sitting here, she was quick to reassure herself. I just need to study up on my Seeker skills, since Harry's off exploring the world, looking for Horcruxes and whatnot…

Not to mention that from this position, Malfoy's arse looked damn fine.

If only my butt looked that good in Quidditch robes…Ginny thought to herself morosely, before gathering her senses. No, Ginny! she reprimanded herself, mentally slapping herself. Reconnaissance! Seeker skills! Not perfect arsery!

She had been sitting here for the better part of an hour, and what she had seen of Malfoy was that it was probably going to be close to impossible to beat him in a Quidditch match. He was good. It almost made her think that perhaps his Achilles heel was Harry, since simple observation of him just now had revealed that Malfoy's skills far surpassed Harry's. Sure, Harry didn't exactly have time to perfect his Quidditch skills like Malfoy obviously did, but still. He wasn't half bad.

Which pretty much sucks for me, Ginny thought bitterly, watching him easily swoop down to Crabbe and grab the snitch from a position near the larger boy's left arm. Watching interestedly, she idly noticed that he could have pulled back a little bit sooner—obviously in his confidence, he was slipping. That could definitely be used against him.

Especially since she was such a wild card when it came to how well she was going to play. She had been keeping her Seeker skills under wraps, only working as a Chaser during their practices. It was no secret that she was a damn good Chaser; it was virtually unknown just how well she was going to be able to do in her first match against Malfoy, resident top Seeker.

But watching Malfoy so extensively during the past few practices had definitely led to some revelations that weren't quite so unusual, considering his normal attitude. He was cocky. He called out his team members and messed around with them, daring them to test their skills despite the fact he knew they'd never match him. Sometimes he even went so far as to correct Goyle on how he held his beater's bat and telling the Chasers how to throw the quaffle. Sure, he was captain, but even Ginny didn't interfere with her players about positions that she didn't know. He took his captaincy to a whole new level, assuming that he had a superiority in all the positions as opposed to just the one.

Everything he did was a calculated move designed to manipulate and deceive any and all he wished. It was obvious even from a distance that he toyed with hit teammates as surely as he toyed with Hufflepuffs. He didn't act rashly, either; things were done with consideration and thought, and she could tell that he didn't do anything at all unless it suited his needs. He was rather an apathetic one at that, sometimes choosing instead to laze around on his broom above his team, reclining backwards and seemingly falling asleep.

It was times like those that Ginny sorely wished she was a beater, just so she'd have the opportunity to send one straight up to his unsuspecting smarmy face.

He was good, yes, but he still had his downfalls. Ginny was beginning to recognize them, too. He was cautious, and unwilling to take risks unless directly provoked into them. A few times she had marched out onto the pitch to him, egging him on to see just how far she could push him and just how much he could do. He responded surprisingly well, retorting to her remarks with nasty ones of his own, ultimately attempting to do whatever move that she had dared him into doing. He was prideful.

"And pride goeth before destruction," Ginny murmured to herself with a slow smile. It was going to be a shame to destroy such a pretty body, but Ginny's own pride was winning out. Without his arse in contention for Best Looking Arse in Quidditch Robes, she's be able to regain the title. And of course this would be done contiguous to Gryffindor's annual triumph over Slytherin, so it would be a double win, in her opinion.

Shaking herself out of her nefarious plotting, she glanced upwards, ready to continue her examination of Malfoy's Quidditch skills (or at least that's what she tried to convince herself was the reason). Before her eyes could even make it to the sky, though, they latched onto an advancing group of green-clad and smelly Quidditch players.

"Shit!" she exclaimed, diving to her right and into the Ravenclaw shower room. She scurried out of sight, hoping they hadn't seen her—they had been quite far away from her, after all, so perhaps they hadn't…

When the raucous voices only seemed to grow louder, she realized with a sinking heart that she must have mixed up the positions of the two shower rooms; Slytherin's was on the right, not Ravenclaw's, apparently.

At least I'll know that for next time, she thought sarcastically, pushing herself to her feet and darting further inside the room. It was quite obvious as to whose shower room this was; even if she was colorblind and missed all the green and silver, it wouldn't be that hard to miss the gleaming marble fountain that was in the middle of the bloody room.

A quick look around the room determined that there were little to no hiding places to be found: no conveniently-placed piles of towels, no closets, no holes in the ground with a strategically-placed shrubbery on top of it. That left the showers.

"Bollocks!" she exclaimed, half-sprinting across the room and slipping inside one of the individual showers. The curtain was opaque, however—they'd still be able to see her outline through it.

It suddenly struck her that—Oh, right—she had a wand, and she hastily cast a Disillusionment charm on herself, shivering as the egg-like feeling dripped its way down her body. It was just in time for the noisy Slytherin team to seemingly tumble into the empty locker room, filling the room with a distinctive odor and acerbic comments. Malfoy's voice was by far the most distinctive, rising above the others' with a haughty sneer that Ginny recognized almost instantaneously from his daily antagonizing of her.

Mentally calculating the number of showers in the room, she realized that she had about a one in fourteen chance of one of the Slytherins actually walking in on her, because they had, for some reason, twice the number of required showers (and an even better chance if any of them decided to shower together). Maybe it's for second-stringers, if they even have any? Ginny thought idly.

Heavy things hitting the floor signaled that most of them were removing pads and clothes, and Ginny's heart rate decided to double. She attempted to reassure herself that there wasn't that great of a chance of someone coming in on her—and even if they did, she was Disillusioned—so she'd be perfectly fine.

It was to her immense misfortune that the curtain to her shower was thrust open and a naked Malfoy was the one that stood before her in the buff. He wasn't facing her, thank Merlin, and instead was calling something out to his teammates. Ginny got a glimpse of a bare Goyle beyond his bare shoulder before she screwed her eyes shut, trying to block the utterly delectable image of Malfoy from her mind (and the horrific one of Goyle). It seemed to be seared into her retinas, however, so that meant eyes open or closed, she was privy to one of the greatest sights of her young life.

He did the stereotypical Seeker's build well with lithe muscles and a tall frame. He must have been working out on the side, because some of those lightly bulging muscles she had seen bunching delicately underneath silky-looking skin appeared decidedly un-Quidditch-related. His hair was stringy with sweat, luminescent and such a bright blond that it was borderline blinding. And his eyes…even though they hadn't been on her, up close like she was the pewter sheen glowed like mercury and sin.

She didn't even want to go in description over anything lower than his throat.

She cracked her own amber orbs open, and was relieved to note that his eyes were on the faucet, fiddling with the knobs to get the water to stream out of it. She nearly yelped when she was sprayed with a blast of icy cold water that almost instantly slipped into a more pleasant warmth, but something must have alerted Malfoy to her presence, because he was no longer looking at the faucet and was instead peering around with narrowed eyes.

Her breath caught in her throat when they landed on her and stayed there.

Instead of alerting his teammates, as she had assumed he would do, a smirk spread across his face, stepping further into the shower. She swallowed, trying not to move and accidentally brush against him. This stall was tiny—So maybe that's why they have so many! she realized with a jolt. It's compensation.—and definitely not made for two people, much less a mammoth of a Quidditch player that looked as hot as Draco Malfoy.

Well, I doubt the fact that he's gorgeous factors into the architect's original planning, she reminded herself, but that thought quickly slipped from her mind when Malfoy stepped fully underneath the stream of water, sending beads of the liquid cascading down his skin in a most distracting way.

He tilted his head upwards to face the water, letting it pound down on his face and soak his hair. Ginny swallowed, trying to return moisture to her suddenly dry mouth as she tracked a particularly large drop of water down his cheek, sinking into the groove of his collarbone, and then slipping through his defined abs and entering the nest of gentle blond curls.

As she stared, the appendage resting against those curls decided to rise outwards.

Ginny snapped her eyes closed.

Dear Merlin, she thought in disbelief. I'm in a shower with a naked Draco Malfoy and a boner!

He seemed content to just stand there underneath the water, thankfully, so she didn't have to go through any kinds of torture like him rubbing soap into that sinful skin and facing the temptation of wanting to do it herself.

Merlin's ball, Ginny, get it together! she commanded herself, hoping it would help. That was quite doubtful, however, since anyone with a uterus would probably be in the same state of mindlessness as she was now. Hell, even those without uteruses would probably feel the same way!

To get her mind off the wet Malfoy inches from her, she closed her eyes and began to mentally recite potion ingredients and their usages. She had only gotten to asphodel (a dark green leaf on the shriveled-looking side used in the Draught of the Living Dead) before her mind wandered back to Malfoy.

He had seen her, but he hadn't said anything. That bloody smirk had all but proclaimed to the world that he knew someone was in the shower with him. Yet he hadn't said anything, and he had even continued to get into the shower. It was suspicious, that was for sure, and Ginny honestly had no clue whatsoever as to what his motives behind this might be. He couldn't possibly know it was her—only that there was a Disillusioned somebody only a breath away from him.

It was borderline insanity that he had willingly stepped into a shower with someone he didn't know, so he must have some idea. Maybe he had seen her, sitting by the showers? She nodded her head decisively. Yes. That must be it.

But if he knew who she was, then that smirk meant a more trouble for her than she had initially hoped. Great, she thought to herself. I'm stuck in a shower with a naked Malfoy who knows it's me, and he hasn't done anything. Yet. And he probably will, but now the only question is just what is he going to do…

Those Slytherins types, however, apparently took wicked fast showers, so she didn't have to wait long.

"Go on without me," Malfoy called out, startling Ginny into jerking slightly and opening her eyes at the sound. She scowled at him; it was loud in that tiny stall, and the nasty curve of his lip told her that he had realized that.

She waited with baited breath to find out just what he would do. His head was cocked slightly to the side, and it seemed as if he was listening to see if they were gone yet or not. He let out a noise that sounded quite triumphant, and then she was squeaking in surprise because a wet hand was groping her.

She was pretty positive that it wasn't his intention to get a handful of her own generous pride and joy, but the way his slightly widened eyes quickly morphed into a delightful smirk made her instincts surge to the surface in a resounding slap! that culminated in a smarting palm.

"Malfoy, you manky pillock!" The expression on his face was priceless.

"Weasley?" he questioned in a disbelieving voice, hand frozen on her left breast.

"Yes, you bloody berk, now get your hand off me!" she snapped, shoving it off her chest. He blinked, clearing water out of his eyes, before that insufferable smirk was back as if it'd never left.

"I didn't know you wanted me like that, Weasley," he drawled lazily, utterly unperturbed by his lack of clothing and the fact that she was still in the shower with him. She glared at him, even though he couldn't see it.

"Arsehole," she growled at him. "Get out."

He laughed mockingly, drawing Ginny's eyes down to his bunching stomach muscles and a bobbing other feature that was most certainly happy to be in her presence.

"Of my own shower? I think not, Weasley."

"I was here first!" she exclaimed quite maturely. Malfoy seemed to think the same, because he rolled his eyes.

"Quite the juvenile defense you have there, Weasley," he informed her dryly. She rolled her eyes.

"I wouldn't be talking about juvenile, Malfoy," she hinted dangerously. He raised an incredulous eyebrow.

"Juvenile?" he repeated. "And I thought you were just touched, Weasley, not retarded."

Before she could retort, however, he let out an annoyed breath and quickly said "Finite Incantatem." Rather than marvel at his wandless magic, she decided to glower instead.

"I was tired of talking to air," he explained. "And here's some very prominent evidence that I am not juvenile in any way." With that, he pointedly looked downwards where his erection was pointedly looking at her.

Ginny looked back up immediately, red as crimson and trying not to look back down again.

"Malfoy, move!" she growled, menacingly pushing her wand in his face. The devilish smirk didn't leave his face as he walked out of the shower, not even needing to turn around. This only gave Ginny an even better view of what she was trying to avoid looking at, because the farther away he got the better she could see his whole body.

And what a fine body it is…she thought impulsively, before banishing such thoughts as she marched out of the shower.

He hadn't bothered going for a towel, and instead stood in the middle of the room near the fountain, cockily on display for all to see. She pointedly avoided looking at him as she headed for the exit.

Hey plan was to storm by him angrily, and maybe even blast him with her best Bat-Bogeys Hex, but her exit was ruined by the squelching of her wet trainers. She looked down, sighing to herself.

"Thanks a lot, shoes," she muttered disappointedly, looking back up and discovering Malfoy—Still naked! her mind screamed—inches away from her with a devilish curve to his lips.

"This is for spying on us for the past week," he murmured, so close that the vibrations of his lips buzzed hers, before he closed the distance between them.

Ginny wasn't quite sure what was happening, eyes wide with disbelief as she stared at his closed ones, framed in delicate gold lashes. The first swipe of his tongue against her lips had her unconsciously slipping them closed, opening her mouth without thinking.

He had wrapped a hand into her hair, and he used it to position her head properly, now that she wasn't staring there like he had Petrified her. His other hand curled across the small of her back, nearly slipping even lower, and Ginny felt a sort of indignation at this maltreatment. Sure, his lips were simply divine, but he couldn't touch her like that.

So as retribution, she wasted no time in testing out just how firm his pride was, delighting in the sharp exhale of breath and the way his cheek tightened deliciously underneath her tight grasp. He seemed to want to get payback as well, trailing his hand to the front of her in between their bodies—Oh, right, he's naked, so I guess that's what that large thing is poking me in the thigh, she dazedly remembered—scratching his nails across the skin of her stomach and leaving shuddering skin in their wake.

His tongue was busy plundering the velvet depths of her mouth, and she was busy trying to keep up with his quick and demanding movements. He was like a small child, uncertain of what to do, so he tried to do them all at once, be it bite her lip, stroke his tongue up against her, or tickle the roof of her mouth.

The last one left her giggling, but when his hand slipped below her skirt it turned into a breathy moan.

This was quickly turning into a dangerous situation, but Ginny soon forgot all the troubles that could come with shagging Malfoy when his skillful fingers found their way past the flimsy barrier and mercilessly stroked between her lips in a vicious movement.

Ginny gasped, pushing away slightly at such a delicate invasion. His hand was still down her skirt, and she blinked hastily, attempting to clear her foggy mind. His lips were bruised and swollen, red like he had been eating berries rather than her. His rapid breathing matched hers, and as her senses returned she jerked his hand out of her skirt, staring at it as if it was a foreign object that hadn't just touched her down there.

It was time to leave.

She stiffly walked around him, deciding that discretion was the better part of valor and it was best to leave this episode locked away in the box titled Things I Never Should Have Done.

"Sorry I got you wet, Weasley," he called out to her, voice husky and dark. She resisted the urge to turn around and curse him. Or turn around and snog him all over again.

He hadn't been talking about the shower.

A/N: This was the oneshot I wrote for the exchange, so if some of you read it, you'll probably recognize it. I wrote this in one day, because I picked up a new prompt when I discovered I wouldn't be able to do my old prompt justice give the time limit. (I outlined it at six very long chapters. You might eventually even see it, too.) I figured I'd repost it here for those that didn't see it. Draco's parting line is my favorite part.

Beta'd by me. Melissa is MIA--are you still alive out there?

My life is quite hectic and busy right now, but scubarang is bullying me into writing Mesmerize. I hope to have the next chapter before November, because during November I definitely won't write it, especially with NaNoWriMo. I also have bunches of homework I should be doing right now, but obviously I'm not.

There's a poll up in my profile, if you wanted to see that. I'm kind of at a loss as to what to write, actually, simply because I have so much I should be writing. :|

Let me know if you guys want to see anything in particular before November, because I'm in a quite acquiescing mood. ^^

Roma