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Chapter Text

Fight...

That’s all she had to do, she just needed to fucking fight. She had fought her whole life—fought with all of her brothers, fought dark Wizards and Witches, fought everything that had been thrown at her, just to get to this moment. 

And she needed to fight back now. Even with his hands crushing tighter and tighter around her throat, taking away the lifeline she so desperately clung to, she needed to fight. Everything inside of her was screaming, begging for her to do something, anything at all to show how much she wanted to live. 

Just to get back to Harry, he was her real family. 

But here she was, letting him squeeze the life from her and inside her. She never thought it would end like this, and she wondered if Harry would even know, or whether she would just disappear altogether. Simply plucked out of existence and cease to a memory. 

The only thing crueler than a cage so small that a bird can’t fly, is a cage so large to give it hope that it can, for the caged bird sings of freedom. 

And now she would be free. 

She just had to FIGHT. 

“It’s beautiful, but you really didn’t have to,” he looked at her when she said it, the way her fingers brushed over the expensive cashmere, her bare nails gliding along the fibres as she caressed the fabric, swirling them in a figure of eight motion. 

“Nonsense, Weasel, my Godchild deserves the best,” his response to her conjured a smirk to the small of her mouth, her dusty pink lips turned up just ever so slightly as she continued to admire the luxurious blanket he'd bought.

Any tiny emotion he pulled from her kept him sated for days, and he was sure she enjoyed the attention from him too. She was always so responsive and predictable to his subtle advances. He could only imagine how she’d respond to his more obvious ones, if he ever got brave enough to act on his urges of wanting to ruin his apparent best friend’s wife.

At first it had been a niggling curiosity in his final year at Hogwarts, a wonder to what the youngest Weasley would taste like as she dripped all over his tongue whilst he laid there in bed. Then he started watching her play Quidditch from the stands, and then watched her still in the changing rooms post match. The way she’d lather soapy bubbles all over her body as her hand drifted lower to brush against her clit, he’d give anything to know what she was thinking about as he watched her bring herself to orgasm in the scorching hot shower, and he would come all over his hands at the sight, watching from the crack in the door—watching from the shadows.

But the curiosity only got worse. Like an infection, it started to spread until he found himself completely consumed by Ginevra Weasley, until she was all that he could think about every minute of every day. And then she had to go and marry the gormless twat that was Harry fucking Potter, and his world came crashing down all around him.

He had so much more to offer her than the boy who should have been blown to bits years ago, but she was too blinded by the fame and reputation, clearly. Jealousy surged through him when he saw the happy couple on their wedding day in the paper, resulting in a nine day bender spent with plenty of faceless red haired women. Some of them enjoyed it, some of them didn’t—and some wouldn’t be able to talk about it. But that was what his money was for, to make his sins disappear.

That was when he noticed it on her vest, wet discs increasing in circumference against the white cotton where her pebbled pink nipples were, breaking him from his reverie. He’d thought about clamping down hard on them many times while she squirmed in pleasure beneath him. He'd thought about clawing at her porcelain body while he rammed his cock so hard into her, that those perfect tits could do nothing but bounce only for his pleasure.

“Gin, think you need to go upstairs and– er, take care of-” Harry cut in, breaking the moment and shattering the adoration he was plying on her full tits, unbeknownst to her, of course.

“Oh god,” she gasped out, dropping the blanket as she moved her hands to cover her leaking breasts, “I’m so sorry, Draco.”

“No apology necessary,” he replied, trying to keep his tone level and urge the semi hard on away before either of them noticed his struggling plight.

No apology was necessary because it was the most delicious sight he could have imagined, her swelled tits just leaking the essence of life. And her stupid fucking husband had the audacity to tell her to rectify this. 

He watched Ginerva struggle to bend down in her delicate state and then hand the blanket to Potter, swiftly leaving them in the room, and a wave of disappointment filled him. 

His cock was throbbing behind the confines of his trousers, dripping with searing want at the thought of pushing himself between her swollen tits, forcing anything he could from them—taking what was rightfully his.

Potter never deserved her, never deserved to have a woman like that, all round and plump and ready to be bred over and over, again and again. But he would appreciate her, every inch of her, and treat her how she was meant to be treated.

“She keeps getting them, you know,” Potter whispered out once the sounds of her tiny footsteps had ebbed. 

“Oh?”

“Always the same thing, some creepy compliment and then calling her Ginevra,” Harry continued, something going on behind his eyes as he folded the blanket over and over in his hands.

Draco both cursed and rejoiced the day he decided to let bygones be bygones and bonded with the Gryffindor idiot five years ago, but he couldn’t risk the great Harry Potter being an enemy of his. So, worming his way into Potter’s inner circle made sure he hid in plain sight, waiting for the chance to strike.

Just waiting for the day she would pay attention to him, waiting for the day she’d give him the signal to save her from this boring fucking life she had been trapped in, against her will, all this time.

“That is your wife’s name though, mate,” a fact Draco drawled out in a sarcastic tone, the very words feeling bitter on his tongue as he uttered them. 

“No one calls her that, not even her mum. She’s worried about it, I can tell,” Harry said as he glanced at the doorway, waiting for her return. A stab of jealousy filled him as he witnessed the concern etched on Potter’s face, knowing full well, he would never allow such harm to befall his precious Ginevra. 

“Has she told you that?” 

“No, she wouldn’t. You’ll realise when you finally settle down, that women are an enigma, and they never say what they mean,” Potter slapped his shoulder as he said it, plastering a toothy grin on his annoying fucking face. 

“Well, lucky for me I’m married to my job then,” Draco said as he rolled eyes internally, the forced friendship with bolt boy was enough to make him want to vomit at every turn, but if it meant he could be closer to her, he would swallow it all down. 

“Alright what did I miss, because I’m sure I just heard the ferret say he was married,” he heard her sweet voice before he turned to see she had replaced her top, one that was darker in colour and covered her modesty, all because of her ungrateful cunt of a husband.

He made a mental notch against the running tally in his head for reasons to hate Potter, and this one just jumped right to the top of his fucking list. 

“I’m flattered by your jealousy at hearing I’m married, Weasel, but that ship has long since sailed for you,” he threw her a wink as he spoke, watching her face become slightly flushed from the compliment he showered on her as she tucked a strand of her behind her ear.

“You wish, Malfoy.”

“Not even if you were the last female on earth, love.” It was a cruel lie that left his mouth, but he couldn’t make his feelings or intentions obvious in front of her husband, he had to protect her and protect her reputation. 

“Ah, we were having such a nice pleasant moment, then you two have to go and ruin it,” Harry cut in, completely unwanted yet again and Draco could feel his frustration begin to simmer beneath the surface as he heard the grainy voice pierce his ears once more. 

“And on that note, I should go home to my fake wife that your real wife is jealous over,” he kept his tone neutral, yet playful—a master at disguise in work it would appear, as they both seemed to lap up his words as gospel, neither of them realising the actual reason he wanted to leave was so he could make himself come all over his stomach thinking of her lactating nipples.

“Thanks for coming, Malfoy,” Harry slapped another hit to his shoulder as he made his way towards the door. 

“Yeah, bye ferret, thank you for the blanket,” she called out to him, causing him to look back over his shoulder, a final glance at the captivating beauty that was Ginevra Weasley

“Anytime,” he muttered out, hoping his words had the same tingling effect on her, like her words always did to him. 

He couldn’t help himself, once he had acquired the knowledge from the internet on how to mask his number, he’d started texting her immediately. It was just innocent little words, at first. Something to brighten her day and make her feel wanted. She was clearly miserable being in Potter’s shadow constantly, just sat waiting around on her own while he went off to save the world as per usual.

Except hero Potter couldn’t work out who the texts were from, could he? And the thrill it gave him daily to know he was right under the nose of the beloved golden boy, also often led him to take himself off to a quiet place at the Ministry, to relieve the ache that should be done by her.

He’d spent many days in a row locked in a deserted and forgotten filing room, wandless charm applied to the door to ensure he wouldn’t be disturbed, just to picture her on her knees. Thinking of the way she would desperately gasp for breath around his cock after filling her mouth, or the way she would scream once he’d push his way into her hot cunt—yes, he had made a mess of himself plenty of times thinking of Ginevra. 

And the moment she announced her pregnancy to their closest friends and family, of which he was now firmly included in, much to his shock, brought a new level of excitement from the depths of his depravity. He had watched her from the outside for years, the love of his life, now swollen and round—the picture was too perfect for him to calm his lust for her and it drove him wild, only further fuelling his desire to have her in every way imaginable. 

Of course, the small fact she had allowed Potter and not himself to impregnate her was a minor inconvenience, one which he could easily rectify, once she had given birth to the golden spawn. Then they could run away, fucking and fighting every hour of every day until she was overflowing with his cum, until there was another life growing inside of her, his life, and their legacy. An endless line of them. 

But the stupid bitch was yet to realise the error of her ways.  

So, he would have to make her see. He would make her understand how devoted he was to her, he would help her to come to terms with the feelings she had for him, undoubtedly buried low beneath the surface out of fear of Potter. But Draco would save her. 

And if he had a little fun along the way, what was the harm?

He remembered visiting the Potters a month or so ago, a casual cup of tea had turned into Harry spiralling, pulling Ginevra’s phone out of his pocket and laying Draco’s handiwork out before him.

“And look, the bastard is even watching her,” Potter exclaimed, as he tapped the phone again to show one of the other messages Draco had sent. 

Draco schooled his features like the perfect artist he had become. After all this time, he had practiced his reaction flawlessly, showing the perfect amount of fake concern for the welfare of his fake best friend’s pregnant wife whilst adding a little gruff into his voice. 

It took all his might to not show the growing smirk he felt building within him, nothing would please him more to just laugh at how Potter was floundering over a few text messages, it was pathetic. The panic was clear, and wildly unnecessary. 

Until he decided to push his luck that one step further a few weeks later, teasing the boundary of how far he was willing to go to get what he wanted. 

Not entirely subtle there he supposed, as he received a raging phone call from Potter just four minutes after he sent the text to her. Flooing directly into their sitting room as requested, he witnessed Potter pace furiously in the kitchen, slamming a cabinet on his travels, huffing and sighing like an overexerted beast but Ginevra was nowhere in sight.

“Who the fuck would send shit like this?” Harry growled, shoving the phone across the worktop over to Draco for him to pick up and feign an interest in its contents.

He smiled to himself when Harry looked away, pleased that he had ruffled the twats feathers to such a degree over a little message.

“I wouldn’t think too much into it, you’re in the public eye, she’s bound to get a little flack every now and then,” Draco replied, shaking off the comment to underplay its intention. 

“This is a bit more than flack, it’s fucking sick,” Harry said as he took a sip of whiskey, and all Draco could think about was smashing the glass right into his stupid face and allowing an artery to spill his less than pure blood everywhere, “we can’t stop arguing about it now either.”

“Oh, really?” That got Draco’s attention immediately, cutting off the joyful image of wonder breath choking on his own blood.

Harry nodded a response, “she says she’s sick of all the attention she gets being with me, hates me because I don’t want to move abroad away from it all,” another swig of his whiskey as his face reddened further with each minute.

“She wants to?” Draco inquired, needing the confirmation to settle the raging hope building inside of him, whilst trying his hardest to be nonchalant.

Another nod from Potter confirmed her wishes, and it made him so happy inside. Finally, she wanted to leave it all behind, she wanted to leave her life and be with him, she wanted him.

“But I can’t, Ron and Hermione, her entire family too–they’re all important to us. Why should we have to run away to another country just for some peace and quiet?” Harry continued, unbeknownst that Draco had tuned him out to start dreaming of their overseas world he could build for her.

“You’re right, and look, this will blow over eventually.” He stated, eager to end the conversation and carry on his scheming. 

“I guess you’re right,” Harry sighed, sounding defeated, sending another small thrill through him. 

“I am,” he nodded as he stood up, straightening the lapels of his jacket. “Anyway, I’m off. Give Weasley my best when she comes down.” 

A couple of days later and he was ready to take what was his, he had planned everything down to the last minute—his route, his spells, his alibi. It was flawless. Everything down to the last detail had been accounted for meticulously and he was grateful that the years of service to the Auror department would finally pay off.

It was a normal Wednesday, which gave him an extra half hour leeway for his usual weekly lunchtime appointment with his Healer. After a stop to her office and a quick Imperio for his alibi, he was on his way to Grimmauld Place. 

He could barely contain his excitement as he knocked on the door three times, the knuckles of his fingers buzzing as they crashed against the wood, just waiting for her to open it up. He heard the door unlatch before his eyes caught on her fiery hair.

“Oh, Malfoy, it’s just you, you know you can use the Floo,” she said, smiling up at him, opening the door wider as an invitation. 

But no, he couldn’t use the Floo. Because using the Floo would leave his magical signature, and he was better than that. 

“Just me, Weasel. Potter just sent me to pick something up for him while he’s out on a job,” he chose the words carefully, slipping through the gap she had allowed for him.

“Of course, come in,” his eyes fell on her tits as they pressed against the sundress she wore, and he couldn’t wait to ravage her once he had her alone, “can I get you a cup of tea?”

“Well, I definitely wouldn’t say no,” he replied, watching her face light up at his response as she turned on her heel and sauntered her way out of the drab hallway and into the kitchen, swaying her perfect arse as she went like the fucking tease she was. 

He focused his gaze completely on her as he entered the space, the way her blazing red hair fell into small coiled piles at the top of her plump chest, the way she subconsciously released her tongue out to dance over the bottom of her lip as she poured the boiling water into two cups in front of her, and the way her heavy stomach now knocked against the worktop on occassion. 

She was a vision, even if she couldn’t see it herself, he always would. 

He pondered over what was about to happen, whether he could go through with it, to carry on the lie he had been living with for almost a decade, to play down his very real fascination with Ginevra Weasley-Potter. And, whether he could commit himself and her to a new life. 

He glanced at the old clock on the opposite wall, he had around twenty-seven minutes to execute this. If there was ever a time he was finally going to get what he wanted, it needed to be now. 

“What is it you need, Malfoy?” She said as she raised onto her toes to reach the saucers on the high shelf, another reason Potter was a piece of shit for not lowering it for her. 

“Pardon me?” 

“You said Harry had sent you here to pick something up?” She turned to face him once more, laying the saucers out on the worktop between them. Her delicate hands teasing the cold china, and he longed for her to run her fingers along him, teasing him the way he liked. 

“Oh, er, yes I-”

“I know what you’re doing, you know,” she raised a brow at him as she said it, and his pulse picked up at the question and the way her eyes danced at him, great pieces of Topaz gleaming back at him as he drank her in.

“You do?” He asked wearily, patting the small thimble against his trouser pocket, all the assurance he needed that he could pull this off and escape. Or just escape, if needed.

“You’re here to defend him, to try and make everything better after the argument. I knew Harry would come to you,” a small smile ghosted her lips as she refocused on the cups before her, picking up a spoon. 

“Well, I only want what’s best for you, Ginevra,” he answered back with his own grin, relaxing into where he leant across the worktop. 

She dropped the spoon she held and levelled her gaze back up to him.

“What?” 

“Hm?” Confusion clouded his thoughts from her question as he looked at her face quickly morphing into one of fear.

“What did you just call me, Malfoy?” 

A wave of panic filled him as he straightened up to his full height, tilting his head up to the ceiling as he took in a breath to steady his nerves. 

“Have you-” she stopped on a gasp. “Are you the one sending me those sick messages?”

Well, the jig was up, he supposed. 

“Oh, Ginevra, let’s not quarrel,” he bowed his head back to face her, his eyes darkening and a smirk forming. He tensed his muscles, waking his body up ready to react to anything his witch would try, he knew how feisty she was, even when heavily pregnant. It was one of the things he loved about her. 

“You need to get out of my house, now.” She spat out, her eyes alight with pure rage, and it only spurred him on more. 

She could look at him like that over and over again, and he would instantly get hard every time.

“Only if you leave with me,” the mirth in his voice was clear, but it only caused a look of disgust to mar her beautiful face. 

“What on earth-” 

“You know it makes sense, me and you,” he continued, stepping out from the worktop and headed towards her side. 

“I have no idea what the fuck is wrong with you, but I am warning you. Get the fuck away from me or I’ll-”

“What? You'll do what?” He gritted out, only a few steps away from her, now he was in touching distance. She shook all over and he was quivering with anticipation, encouraging her to make the first move. 

Before he knew it, she launched away from him and made her way to the door, until he whispered a stunning spell stopping her in her tracks. 

“You just had to make this difficult, didn’t you?” Walking up behind her, he ghosted her frame, feeling the tip of his hardness press ever so lightly against her arse, and he heard her whimper at the contact. The sound she made just made him harder for her, and he couldn't wait to make her scream.

“No matter, let’s get you home first, then I’ll come back for your belongings,” he wrapped a hand around her throat delicately, cradling her flesh as he felt her pulse pounding beneath his fingertips. Then with the other hand, he reached into his trouser pocket and touched the thimble housed in there. 

He blinked and within a second, he felt the knowing pull of the Portkey magic take hold of him. When he opened his eyes again, they landed on the familiar walls of his French chateau, the start of their new life.

He caressed her neck as he let go of it and gently laid her down on the bed. Her eyes were wide as she watched him, unable to move or say anything as he settled her into the luxurious pillows.

He knelt his head down and brushed his lips over hers tenderly, he felt her breath hitch in anticipation, “I’ll be back soon, my love, don’t worry,” he whispered, before he climbed off her and moved his hand to his trouser pocket once more.

The Portkey back to Grimmauld Place left him feeling nauseous as he landed back in the kitchen, but he refocused his mind and got his bearings almost instantly. He ran upstairs, taking them two at a time, eager to get back to her. He pulled a scruffy looking bag from the wardrobe and began packing the majority of her clothes, along with underwear, her toiletries, and a few of the terrible pictures on her dresser of her family. Sentimental items were vital, no person who leaves willingly would abandon those types of objects.

Satisfied he’d covered all bases, he made his way back down to the kitchen and picked her phone up off the worktop. Now the fun could really begin. 

He needed it to look like she had simply had enough of the shit life only Potter could provide, and decided to leave it all behind. Not a complete lie, seeing as he would be giving her a much better life now, one better than any kind Harry fucking Potter could have given her. 

Chapter Text

“You were a while,” he heard Potter say as he closed the door to their shared office behind him. As if it wasn’t enough that the cunt had to take his witch from him in the first place, he had to spend every working hour in his shadow too. 

But hopefully, not for much longer. He just needed to finalise the details before the great Harry Potter met his untimely demise. He assumed Ginevra wouldn’t want any harm to come to him, she was pure and kind like that. 

“Miss me, did you?” Draco shucked out of his jacket as he said it, draping it across the back of the chair opposite his partner. “Healer Brown just wanted to talk a little longer, if you get my drift,” a further wink at Potter solidified his ironclad alibi should the thunder prick go looking for anything suspicious.

“You’ve got to be kidding me? Please tell me you aren’t fucking your therapist, mate, it’s the biggest irony,” Harry exclaimed, wiping his hand over his face in exasperation.

In truth, he had fucked his therapist once or twice as a passing fancy, and subsequently obliviated her after the event each time. There was something sardonic in the fact she would taint her justly morals with a patient more than once, even though she couldn’t remember. Turns out everyone was corruptible.

“Well, call me a walking cliche then,” he replied, a glint of something mischievous in his eye like he had in fact just taken a lunch break to fuck his therapist, and not kidnap his Auror partner’s wife.

“It’ll end in tears, I can’t wait to say I told you so,” Harry continued, shaking his head in judgement.

“Of course, Potter, you know best after all.” Draco drawled out across from him, an all knowing feeling sitting in his chest that just wanted to burst out and give the game away and rub it in his stupid face. 

“Do you mind if I knock off early and leave you to tie up loose ends here? I think I want to get home to Ginny.”

“Yeah sure, not a problem,” Draco replied, ever the supportive friend, “why don’t you stop at that flower shop I told you about too?” A cheeky smile to go with the statement, and he was completely out of the limelight for any wrongdoings Harry could conjure up.

“That’s a good idea actually,” he replied, as stupidly gleeful as ever, “I’ll see you tomorrow, Malfoy.”

Just as he was finishing up the last report for the day, he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket—right on time. 

It was done. Harry Potter was of the opinion that his loving wife had finally had enough and left him, in tow with his child. It couldn’t have been a more perfect set up, the ease of which it was implemented and went entirely to plan. 

And now to give her the good news, the news she had no doubt been praying for all these years. Now she could breathe easy, relax into her new found life with him. They could be a real family once her baby—no, their baby was here. 

He swept up the stairs to his bedroom, now their bedroom, a complete clash of maroon and emerald painted the walls that surrounded them, golden accents throughout. A combination of their backgrounds, a meeting of their souls. 

He opened the door and stepped through, she was still right where he had left her, his stunning charm still immobilising her but wouldn’t harm her or their baby, he was sure of it.

What kind of a man would he be if he started off their love story by losing himself? No, it wouldn’t do. Lucius had made sure to set an example for him from an early age, to always respect the love of his life, and to always  pursue anything which made him happy. 

Draco was sure he had now achieved both in his life, especially as he enclosed on the bed that displayed his prize. He’d won, he’d got the girl, and they’d finally be happy. 

He didn’t need to beg, he could feel the aching she held for him, all this time.

He came up to the side of the bed, gazing down at his flaming beauty—her innocent eyes were wide and watched him intently, no doubt eager to show her appreciation to him for saving her, he thought. 

A small incantation under his breath gave her some small flexibility back, she could move her neck, her head—even her arms and legs could move a fraction, but she wouldn’t be able to run. He still needed her safe after all.

“Where are we?” She groaned out, something he wasn’t sure of lacing her voice.

“We’re safe, Ginevra, you haven’t got to worry,” he settled himself on the edge of the bed, close enough to touch her but not impose her space.

“Malfoy, look, just take me back,” she leant forward slightly, her hands bracing either side of where she sat, “I’ll tell Harry it was an accident, that you were just worried about me and-”

“I was worried about you, you’re right,” he cut in, still completely transfixed on his beloved as she sat up.

“What?”

“I saw how miserable you were, how unhappy he made you,” he continued proudly.

“That’s not-”

“So I saved you, and brought you here.”

“You saved me? You think stunning and kidnapping me is saving me?” She asked in disbelief.

“Well, not exactly but-”

“And let’s not forget the creepy text messages you’ve been sending me for the last month!” Her tone was edging on the line of ungrateful, and it irked him somewhat.

“There's not a line in the world that I wouldn't cross for you,” he hoped the longingness he felt was portrayed in his voice. “I needed you to know I was there, waiting to get you out,” he placed his hand over hers on the bed, cupping it perfectly, “he’ll never find you here, love.”

“Malfoy,” she shifted forward towards him, even now it was entirely obvious to him that they couldn’t escape the forbidden pull of each other, “please just listen to me, okay?”

Ginny took his hand in hers and held them together, “you’re not well, alright?” She continued to plead, a look on her face like she was dealing with an injured animal. “We can get you the help you need, you just need to take us back.”

His heart lurched and the excitement within him picked up at the fact she did care for him, it hadn’t been in his head at all. 

“That’s not an option now, Ginevra, you should know Portkey travel is extremely dangerous and taxing to you,” he paused as he looked over her concerned face, lowering his eyes to her protruding stomach, “and the baby.”

Realisation dawned on her within an instant and she dropped his hand immediately, moving to cradle her heavy stomach in the next breath as she began to sob.

“Oh god, the baby,” she gasped out, shaking where she sat.

“It’s okay, once was a necessary risk,” he moved closer to her, cupping her face as his thumb drew circles on her perfect cheek, “soon, our baby will be here and we can finally be a family.”

“Our baby?” She whispered as her eyes grew impossibly wider. 

“Every child needs a father, and I’ll make you so proud. I’ll be so good to both of you,” he knew the pride in his voice was obvious.

“Harry is my husband-”

“No-” he cut above her. She didn’t have to lie anymore, she’d realise it soon enough.

“And I’m having his baby-”

“No! You don’t have to fucking say that anymore!” He grabbed both sides of her face tightly as he loomed over her, watching the sparkling little droplets fall from her beautiful blue eyes. 

“Malfoy, please,” she blinked more tears away, “you’re scaring me,” her voice struggled out.

He realised she was scared of what Potter would do if he ever found out about them, but she had no reason to fear her estranged husband any longer. He would stop Harry, even if he had to kill him. And the victory of it all would make it taste that so much sweeter.

“Shh, it’s okay,” he cooed into her ear, “let me show you.”

“What?”

“Let me show you how good it can be,” he began ghosting soft kisses into her hair, against her neck. Her skin was electricity every time it grazed his mouth and it set him further alight. 

“No-” she pushed back at him, “No, please don’t do this.” 

“Let me show you how good I can make you feel-” he said as he angled her back to lay on the bed, balancing himself precariously on top of her, yet she still tried to play hard to get. 

“No, stop!” 

“I know you’re worried about Harry finding out-”

“NO-” she kept shouting out.

“But I’ll protect you, Ginevra.”

“Stop,” she gasped out as he pried her legs open, dropping his hand down to her sweet spot, to where all his dreams would come true. 

“There we go, doesn’t that feel good?” He mumbled close to her, blocking out her fake screaming as he caressed her clit.

She went entirely silent, panting and gasping from the pleasure he was plying to her wanting cunt over and over, writhing in submission.

As he swirled his fingers in and round, she stilled her movements and he felt a fluid gush from her—she was enjoying this. 

“Can you feel how wet you are? It’s clear how much you want this, how much you want me,” he gritted out heavily, as he rested all his weight on top of her, moving his hand to his trousers to lower the zipper on them. 

“No, no I don’t want this-” she started to move again, squriming as he bracketed her. “Oh god, I think-” the tears started flowing once more, “no, it’s my waters, Malfoy, please stop!” 

“Oh fuck,” he blew out against her face and before he knew it, he was pushing his throbbing cock straight into her in one hard thrust.

All of his dreams were coming true, he was fucking Ginevra Weasley over and over, feeling her quiver the more he pumped himself into her.

He looked down to see his cock coated with her blood with each drag of it, in and out of her welcoming cunt, and the sight was glorious. 

She bucked wildly into him, spurring him on, begging for him to keep taking her. He continued to pound into her harder as she wailed, her screams getting louder the more he fucked her. 

And she loved every second, her gasps and whimpers came with each clench of her cunt, and he was lost to the sensation. 

She clawed at his shoulders and back, leaving her marks in him like she was claiming him. He’s sure he heard a small protest, but he only pushed in further, as far as he could until he felt resistance.

“Fuck, I’m going to come in you, I’ll keep filling you up, we’ll give our baby a sibling straight away,” he panted out as his forehead rested against hers, feeling her clammy skin touch his own, “they never need to know what really happened, I’ll keep you both safe.”

It’s a promise, one that only the two of them would recall in this perfect moment, a declaration of what their love will do. 

“Stop, you’re hurting me,” she tried with more protests of morality, but he knew her heart, he knew she was his and she wanted this, “you’re hurting the baby, please!”

“I can feel you tightening around my cock, fuck, yes,” he fucked into her roughly, “come for me, baby, show me you're mine!” He groaned out as spurt after spurt left his aching cock to paint her clenching walls, leaving him shuddering as the ropes of his cum filled her.

“I’ll never be yours-” his hands found his way to grip her throat as she tried to gasp out the insult. “This is not your baby.”

“How could you say that to me?” He squeezed his hands tighter, just to prove the point of how much she had truly hurt him. “We just made love, before you give birth to our child, why do you have to be such a hateful bitch!”

He felt a further twitch beneath his grip as his fingers crushed around her throat, a feeling of anger quickly morphing into something else, something darker. 

“After everything I’ve done for you!” He shouted the words at her as she lay there staring up at the ceiling, while his hands continued to show his emotion. 

After a moment he remembered himself, he started down at her perfect skin as it gleamed in the moonlight, an errant tear of happiness slowly dipping it's way down her cheek. He realised her hormones must be running wild in the throes of her labour and making love to him, she wasn't thinking clearly, she didn't mean any of it. She was still his Ginevra.

“Ginevra?”

But she made no response, she was as still as the black lake, her body was limp and lifeless. Her hand fell from where it rested on her pregnant belly, her mottled skin turning whiter by the second with all the blood sinking from it, her dishevelled hair splayed on the pillow.

Fuck. 

She wasn’t breathing. 

“No,” he loosened his grip immediately and began pawing at her face. “No, you fucking wake up now!” 

“No, no, no, no,” he pulled her bottom lip down trying to see if he could feel her breathing, but there was no sensation there. 

“Ginevra,” he dropped his head onto her chest beneathe him, “I didn’t mean it,”  he continued to whine into her feverishly, “I’ll be good, I promise, just wake back up.” 

He'd killed her, he'd let his anger get away from him and took the only one who loved him. How could he ever forgive himself, they were going to be a family, they were going to raise their baby- 

“NO!” He pushed back off of her and sat on his heels, looking down at her body spread open, “the baby, no-” 

There was so much blood that covered the sheets, soaking through the surface where she laid—it coated her thighs and his, and he felt his cock twitch at the sight. Her legs were parted and left her cunt wide and open, dripping with his spend, so he decided to push it back into her, where it belonged. Where it would always belong because she was his.

He leant his head down and breathed her in, he wanted to memorise everything he could about her, to keep her alive in his mind. The scent of her, the taste of her- of them together, to remember how good it could have been. He moved his head forward and dashed his tongue out to lick up her slit. The saltiness of them and the rusty taste of blood was euphoric and made him so painfully hard once more.

But it wasn't enough, he needed more.  

“If I can just-” he pushed his hand into her further, feeling the flesh tighten all around him as he did so, “yes.” 

It was so tight and there was so much resistance, but if he could just get a piece of her, just something to keep of her, it wouldn’t have all been for nothing. It was their baby after all. 

“So, how are you, Potter?” He asked as he lifted the teacup to his mouth, looking around at the mess laid out all over the worktops in the kitchen.

It would appear the last two weeks hadn't been especially kind to the golden twat, and he was just spiralling further and further by the day. A shame really, he could have really grown to tolerate the speccy git now the object of his eye was out of the picture.

Draco had entered a form of disassociation the moment he realised Ginevra Weasley had stopped breathing in his arms, but he also felt it was meant to happen that way in a sense. In what better world, could you leave it in the arms of the one who loved you? She felt his love, they made their declarations to each other, she was blissfully happy when she passed.

At least he was able to give her that. Potter on the other hand...

“How do you fucking think,” Harry snapped a response. “Sorry, I just-” 

“I get it, it must be hard, knowing she’d rather do it on her own than with you,” he replied flatly, remembering to give his friend a look of pity as he took in the walls that once housed the love of his life. He saw her everywhere, a constant reminder. 

“It just doesn’t make any sense,” Harry continued, still trying to convince anyone that would listen that he wasn't a complete piece of shit. “I know we were arguing a lot, but apart from a few text messages, she hasn’t got in contact with any of us,” yes the texts from her phone were ingenious on Draco's part, “I guess you never really know someone.”

Could that be the start of a sense of acceptance he just heard from the great Harry Potter?

“That’s true, plus Ginevra was always hard headed and stubborn,” he nodded back to Potter as he wiped the edge of the saucer in front of him. 

“What?” 

“Hm?” Draco levelled his gaze back up at Harry's question.

“What did you just call her?”

Fuck. 

“Oh dear, Potter,” he shook his head and reached for his wand before Harry could act, delivering a silent stunner in the Gryffindor's direction. “You just couldn’t leave it alone, could you?”

“Where is she, Malfoy, I swear to God-” Harry struggled against the magical confines, still able to speak, much to Draco's ire. 

“The macho display is entirely unnecessary, I’m happy to tell you where she is,” he walked up to him casually with his hands in his pockets, stopping mere centimetres from him, “but you aren’t going to like it.”

“If you’ve hurt her-”

“I thought she was special, but on reflection, she was just another selfish cunt and didn’t care about her baby’s life in the end, she just gave up,” he said in a bored tone, as he watched Harry’s mouth drop open at the sentence, rendering Gryffindor’s poster boy frozen in horror.

“I tried, but I couldn’t get the baby out of her,” Draco matched his gaze to Harry’s, a swirl of black filling his irises as he dropped his deadly tone an octave lower, “so I decided to take her pretty little head instead.”

“Wh-” Harry gasped out, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed. “What did you just say?”

This was it, the moment he had waited for his entire life. The fear and horror on Potter’s face had made it all worth it. 

“If you’re a good boy, I’ll let you see it, one last time...”

A few days after his altercation with Potter saw him taking a much needed trip abroad to Italy–he couldn’t return to the Chateux, it would always belong to her now. All the memories of their unwavering love and all the plans they had made together took up too much space within those french walls, it was too painful for him to even consider returning without her.

So he took himself off to visit an old school friend at his Vineyard, who he’d recently #learned had just married and was apparently blissfully happy, or so it would appear. But Draco knew better, there was always more beneath the surface between a married couple, and he always paid attention. 

He pondered to himself whether he and Ginevra would have even lasted under the scrutiny, had they faced any backlash of their impromptu union together, the strain would have weighed heavily on her heart no doubt being seen with him so soon after the breakdown of her marriage. They’d never have been able to admit to the world the truth of their torrid love affair, even if he thought about it and her often. 

No, what happened was a kindness. She was in a better place and no longer being bored to death by Potter, and as far as Draco was concerned, Potter’s soul could end up wherever it so pleased. 

It was time to focus on greener pastures and his bright future ahead of him, now a decorated Auror and in line to run the department, he had everything, except the thing he yearned for most. 

But as he sat there, sipping his espresso amongst the locals with the Prophet from home sat in front of him, he wondered just how captivatingly beautiful the new Mrs Zabini could really be…