Seven Minutes in HeavenAuthor: cedarPairing:
On Halloween, the masks come off.Seven Minutes in Heaven
It wasn't like you were going to tell, and no one was going to notice in the middle of this insane party, anyway. Were they? You looked around. A person could barely see for the smoke in the room and the dim lights and it was Halloween and it wasn't like anyone was their right self, anyhow.
It wasn't quite the feast at Hogwarts, but that was worth giving up in favor of being out in the real world. You had a job now and it was just you and Ron at home, and he was planning to move out after Christmas and share a flat with Harry. Mum and Dad weren't too keen on you moving out anytime soon. Youngest child, only girl, the family baby…
…who was now ensconced in the safety of the haze and darkness that only comes with parties, groin to groin with Draco Malfoy.
He'd told you what his costume would be. It was the only way you would have known it was him. Not that any of this was on the record. This was just another in your long series of hookups, clandestine sessions arranged by cryptic notes sent by post office owls. He'd colored his hair nearly black and wore a mask over his eyes, but there was no mistaking his identity as you kissed. He kissed as you'd always known him to, with his tongue delicate and controlled between your teeth. For as many kinks as the two of you had explored together, he was always just discreet enough in public. He had his hand at your waist, not on your butt, and you could be sure that you were the only one who could feel how intense his desire was, how furiously he wanted you. Despite his often icy demeanor Draco was the most passionate man you'd ever kissed, and despite the many rumors at school he was one of only three you'd ever slept with.
If one could call it sleeping. And you, for one, didn't.
Outside of these liaisons you had zero relationship whatsoever. You didn't work near each other, didn't run in the same social circles, certainly never acknowledged that your relationship was anything other than antagonistic. But maybe, you thought, that antagonism made these encounters all the better. There was a certain thrill in the planning, in the secrecy. As for the anticipation… Well, Draco always fulfilled everything you anticipated and then some, didn't he? It was one of the things you had to admire about him. He took pleasing you with an admirable seriousness. Not that you didn't want to do the same for him, of course, but in your moments of solitude you couldn’t help but smile to yourself, thinking that he of all people, someone known for his spoiled selfishness, knew how to be completely selfless in bed.
Draco pressed the length of his body to yours and his heat made sweat prickle under your arms. This was something you always looked forward to, the rush of knowing what was to come, the dimensions of Draco's torso, the strength of his fingers against your arms, the soft touch of his lips, the sweet yet masculine scent of his cologne, bergamot and cinnamon, sandalwood and jasmine.
"Come with me," he whispers, and you shiver despite the heat of so many bodies in the room. His commands are ripe with the promise of pleasure. Every other time he's told you "Come with me," he's given you long nights to remember. There's no way he'd stop now. At least, you don't think so.
He opens a door and pulls you through, except there's not much through to go. You must be in a closet. The humid smell of cedar is cloying, mixing with Draco's cologne. Spots swim in front of your eyes and you lean against the door, which he's closed behind the two of you.
"Ginny," he whispers as he removes his mask. "How nice to see you here."
His formality in the face of what you're about to do makes you smile. "Lovely to see you too, Draco. And how is your family?"
The mask clatters to the floor. You can feel his movements in the closed space, the dance of his fingers around the buttons on his shirt. "Fine. Though not having as good a time as I am, I'm sure."
He takes you by your upper arms and turns you so you are against one of the side walls rather than the door. There's barely room for the two of you to move in here, much less for either of you to go for your wands. But that's what sparks the excitement. In here, you can only think about Draco. The outside world is gone. It's not that you've never been this close to Draco, but you've never been this close to Draco in a spot he so completely fills. He is overpowering in this small space, and it thrills you. Everything Draco is surrounds you.
From now on, you might have to have all your hookups in a closet.
Draco's breathing is accelerating and as he reaches for the collar of your dress you wonder if he's about to faint. His touch is sure and swift, though, and that is reassuring. The temperature in the closet rises with every movement. Clothes hit the floor. The wood of the wall is surprisingly smooth against your back. What surprises you most is that Draco's skin against yours is cool and damp, though his mouth is hot and both of you are sweating. There is no light in here at all. Not that Draco needs it. He knows your body almost as well as you know it yourself. He runs the pads of his thumbs over your nipples. This is always the part that makes you conflicted, isn't it? That you've let Draco Malfoy of all people so close, yet you wouldn't, couldn't, trade how he makes you feel. The slightest movements right and left bring your sides against the cedar walls.
Through the music you can hear Draco sigh, feel his heart beat out of sync with the bass. He takes you by the waist, pulling you close, and the contact of your naked skin is electrifying. Without sight you are reliant on touch and sound, everything intensified in your close quarters. He is strong enough to lift you without too much effort and you wrap your legs around his waist. If this were any other situation you might giggle at the very idea of Draco literally sweeping you off your feet. Now, however, you can only gasp as he enters you, holding you to never let you go, and moan as he becomes a part of you. For whatever else Draco might be outside these walls, he is wholly committed to you here, swaying his hips so he grazes your clit, sighing into your neck. You dig your fingertips into his back as he thrusts in and out, and the pressure only seems to make him want to go faster. It doesn't take long for him to come, gritting his teeth as he groans and pushes himself as far into you as he can possibly go.
This is what you live for.
Without a word, both of you clean up, dress, and head back to the party. You don't hold hands, you don't talk, and you don't kiss. He's not going to take you for coffee and dessert when the crowd begins to thin. The haze and the heat and the beat of the music engrave the memory in your mind, and you know that there will soon be another seven minutes like the ones you just had.
But for now you slip back onto the floor, anonymous beneath your costume, and dance.