Title: A Little Domestic Service
Author: woldy 
Characters: Ginny Weasley, Draco Malfoy, & Pansy Parkinson in various actual or implied combinations
Rating: R
Theme chosen: Discipline
Warnings/other kinks: Dubcon, cross-dressing, spanking
Word Count: ~3200 words
Summary: Malfoy takes a job as Ginny and Pansy's cleaner, but he needs more than financial incentives.
Author's Notes: My thanks to son_of_darkness  for the inspiration, and to nuclearsugars for betaing. I worry that DD fic should involve more sex than this, but I hope the kink makes up for it.


"How do you feel about hiring a cleaner?"

Ginny took a sip of her tea without looking up from the Quidditch scores in the Daily Prophet.

"Fine by me as long as you're paying."

"All right," Pansy said without hesitation.

This was suspicious enough that Ginny lowered the newspaper. "What's the catch?" she said, watching Pansy closely.

"There's no catch," Pansy replied in a tone that wasn't fooling anyone. Ginny gave her a look. "Oh, fine! One of my friends needs a job and I thought we could help him out."

"Why does your friend need a job as our cleaner?" asked Ginny pointedly and Pansy scowled.

"You're always complaining about the mess, so I thought--"

"I wouldn't complain if you learned to pick up after yourself; we can't all have house elves. Anyway, don't change the subject. Who is this friend?"

"You don't even have to see him," Pansy said quickly. "He can just come in and clean while we're at work, and then we won't argue about the mess and-"

"It's one of your Death Eater friends, isn't it?"

Pansy hesitated, her fingers tracing an anxious pattern on the surface of the table. "Yes. Malfoy. If he doesn't have a reputable job, the Ministry will send him to Azkaban and people go crazy there within months. I know you hate him, but I can't let that happen."

"Then get him a job somewhere else," snapped Ginny. "I am not letting Draco Malfoy into my house! Do you remember what he said about my family?"

"I've tried," Pansy said. "We've all tried, but the Ministry's idea of a reputable job is one without any Slytherin contacts at all. They won't approve any of the posts that Draco's been offered, but I'm told that cleaning for a nice Gryffindor girl counts as rehabilitation. It has to be this."

"So you want to use my good name to keep Malfoy out of prison?" Ginny demanded. "No! No fucking way. That bastard doesn't deserve my help."

"I know you won't do it for him," said Pansy quietly. "But I'm asking you to do it for me. I don't want Draco's insanity or suicide on my conscience."

There was a long silence as they watched one another across the table.

"You'd owe me about a billion favours," said Ginny.

"I know."

"And if he does or says anything out of line, I'd go straight to the Aurors."

"I know."

"I'm not paying a knut of his wages," Ginny continued, realising that she seemed to have agreed to this ludicrous proposal without consciously making a decision about it. On the spur of the moment she added, "And he has to wear a French maid's uniform."

"He - what?" Pansy said, frowning. "That's your condition?"

Ginny had a vision of how arrogant, elitist, rat-bastard Malfoy would react to the idea of wearing women's clothing to clean their house, and the idea of his fury and humiliation made her smile. If she were lucky, Malfoy would prefer Azkaban to scrubbing their bathroom in a frilly black skirt.

"Yeah, it is," Ginny said, crossing her arms. "No French maid's uniform, no deal."

Pansy narrowed her eyes and they stared at each other, waiting for somebody to give in. Pansy was raised in a viper's nest, but she never had the wrath of Molly Weasley to contend with and in the end she looked away.

"Fine," Pansy said crossly. "I'll tell him. And I'll let you know when he's going to start work."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ginny spent the whole afternoon in a foul mood because she couldn't help worrying about what Malfoy was doing to her house.

He could be reading all her letters, or sending their entire collection of sex toys to the Daily Prophet news desk, or selling her furniture on the Muggle interwebs that Percy was writing his tedious Ministerial Conduct Guide about. He might be casting horrible curses on their belongings, or transfiguring everything into , or setting up an ambush with his Death Eater mates, or filling the bathroom fan with Peruvian Instant Darkness powder. There was no knowing what sort of havoc and destruction Malfoy would wreak.

As soon as the hour hand on the clock inched round to five, Ginny jumped up from her desk and hurried towards the Floo. She stepped out of the living room fireplace and found...well, things looked much the same as they had that morning. The house was silent, but after growing up with the twins and living through a war Ginny knew better than to mistake silence for safety. She cast Homenum Revelio but the spell showed that she was the only person there.

Ginny inspected the house slowly, wand in hand. There wasn't any sudden darkness, or frogspawn, but it wasn't appreciably cleaner or tidier either. Apparently Malfoy hadn't seen fit to empty the bins, or pick up the pile of clothes on the bedroom floor, or remove the grime in the bathtub. However, he had polished Pansy's horrible silver tea service - a family heirloom - and reorganised their bookshelves. Where once Pansy's books and Ginny's books had been neatly separated, they were organised according to some partly thematic, partly alphabetical system known only to Malfoy.

Ginny scowled, and went in search of quill and parchment.

Malfoy,

You're a cleaner, not a fucking librarian. If you mess around with my stuff without my permission again then I'll hex you. You remember my bat bogey hex, don't you? Think about how much fun that will be to clean up.

Ginny Weasley.

P.S. Empty the bins, next time. And clean the bathroom.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sense of nervous anticipation the following week was even worse. Ginny managed to get some work done before lunch, but spent the afternoon firing off bad-tempered memos to people all over the Ministry: our heater hasn't worked properly in a month; the quiche today was frankly disgusting; please finish your reports before filing them - I am not your proofreader. After writing an angry note about the sickly yellow colour of the new AF63 forms for registering ownership of a kneazle, Ginny read over what she'd written, sighed, and threw it into the waste paper bin.

She glanced up at the clock, which showed that it was four o'clock.

There was no knowing what Malfoy was getting up to in her house. Just because he hadn't destroyed anything last week, didn't mean that he wasn't going to - knowing Malfoy he might just be plotting something. She could come back to find the bathmat turned into a portkey to the Sahara desert, or a one of Malfoy's horrible snakes - that thing he'd cast at Harry gave her nightmares in first year - lying in wait beneath the sofa. Despite her instructions, it was probably too much to expect that he'd done any cleaning.

Ginny sighed crossly, tried to stop thinking about it, and picked up a report. She read the same paragraph four times without taking in a word, and then gave up. The only way to stop worrying was to find out what Malfoy was doing.

"I'm going home early," Ginny called to her boss. "I'll stay late tomorrow to make up for it. See you in the morning!"

She ran out the door before anybody could register protests about normal working hours, and waited impatiently as the Ministry lift made its way arthritically to her floor and then back up to the Atrium where the Floos were located.

Ginny jumped out of the lift, apologising when she almost knocked over an elderly witch carrying a large stack of files, hurried across the marble floor of the Atrium, and stepped out into her own living room a few seconds later.

"Hominum Revelio!"

The spell showed that there was one other person in the house, in the upstairs bathroom.

Ginny was climbing the stairs cautiously when she heard a distant voice drawl, "The courteous way to find out if I'm here would be to ask."

"I don't have to be courteous to my cleaner," Ginny called back.

Malfoy appeared at the top of the stairs. He was wearing the French Maid's outfit as she'd insisted. The low neckline revealed his pale chest and collarbones, the black skirt and crisp white apron fell just above his knees, and the little white cap was perched in his blond hair. From where she stood halfway up the stairs, Ginny could see several inches of Malfoy's pale thighs beneath the skirt.

Malfoy dressed as a maid; it was a tragedy that she didn't have a camera, because Ron would love to see this. Ginny grinned and Malfoy narrowed his eyes.

"I understood that neither you nor Pansy would be here while I was cleaning."

"If you actually cleaned anything instead of messing about with our bookshelf then I wouldn't have to check up on you," Ginny shot back.

"I have emptied the bin and cleaned the bathroom, as specified," said Malfoy, glaring at her down his pointed nose.

"I'll be the judge of that," Ginny said and went to inspect the bathroom.

The bath was spotless and the white tiles were sparkling, but Malfoy hadn't bothered to clean the bathroom mirror or the toilet. Now that was a thought: Malfoy scrubbing her toilet.

"Get in here, Malfoy," Ginny ordered.

She heard the floorboards creak, and then Malfoy appeared in the doorway, looking resentful.

"This isn't what I call clean," Ginny said, pointing to the toilet.

"You didn't ask me to clean it."

"You're a cleaner," Ginny said, as scathingly as she could manage. "I shouldn't have to give you detailed instructions. Clean whatever's dirty. It's not Advanced Arithmancy."

"Believe me, I know that," Malfoy said in a clipped voice. "I got an Outstanding Owl in Arithmancy, so I am far better qualified for that than for house elf work."

"Shame you threw it away to be a Death Eater then," Ginny said with cheerful malice. "This is what you've got, so do your job."

She leaned back against the bathroom wall and crossed her arms.

"What, you expect me to clean the toilet while you watch?" asked Malfoy, sounding scandalised.

"Abso-fucking-lutely."

Malfoy took in a sharp breath, his nostrils flaring, and looked around the room in mild alarm. "I don't even know where to find the--"

"In the cupboard under the sink," Ginny said, beginning to enjoy herself. "Get on with it, I haven't got all day."

Malfoy bent over to open the cupboard, causing the skirt's hemline to rise dangerously, and Ginny couldn't resist taking a peek. Malfoy's wasn't wearing any stockings, but his legs were smooth and hairless. At the top of his slim thighs, she caught a glimpse of black lace.

Lacy black knickers. Ginny had never given any thought to Malfoy's underpants before, but wearing women's frillies under his uniform implied that either he expected somebody to see his underwear, or Malfoy got a kick out of wearing it.

"Nice pants, Malfoy. I'm glad you're making an effort with something."

Malfoy straightened up quickly, blushing furiously.

"I had no idea you were such a pervert. Does Pansy know?"

"My relationship with Pansy is none of your business," Ginny said, feeling her own cheeks heat. "I thought I told you to clean the toilet. Or would you rather go to Azkaban than do a little domestic service?"

Malfoy gave her his most poisonous glare and then slowly, as though forcing himself to move inch by inch, bent over to look into the cupboard.

He withdrew a bottle of cleaning fluid and then hesitated, staring at the loo brush, and Ginny was filled with an urge she couldn't resist.

She lifted the black skirt out of the way with one hand, and swung the other in a wide arc towards Malfoy's bum. Her hand landed with a stinging slap, and Malfoy jerked, nearly banging his head on the cupboard. When Ginny lifted her hand away, she saw an angry red mark where her palm had met the pale flesh of his bum.

For a moment Malfoy didn't move, but Ginny heard the uneven rasp of his breath. Then he grabbed the loo brush and straightened up, cheeks flaming.

Without looking at her, Malfoy pulled out his wand, flourished it in the direction of the toilet and said "Scourgify!"

The bottle of cleaning fluid upended over the toilet and the loo brush began scrubbing away. Malfoy seemed torn between the need to look at what he was doing and the desire to avert his eyes. He glanced back and forth between the floor and the toilet, his nose wrinkled in disgust and shoulders in a tense line.

"Make sure you get into all the awkward spots," said Ginny, thoroughly enjoying herself. "Otherwise I might need to give you more incentive."

Ginny wriggled her fingers and Malfoy glared at her from beneath his pale lashes, his cheeks still flushed.

"I wouldn't want to give you the satisfaction," Malfoy said haughtily and turned back to his task.

After another minute of scrubbing, Malfoy flicked the wand and the brush and cleaning fluid landed neatly beside the loo.

"Sufficient, Weasley?"

Ginny peered at the toilet, which seemed to be spotless.

"I suppose that will do," she admitted, feeling almost disappointed. "Maybe you can be taught."

"I live to serve," Malfoy drawled in his most sarcastic voice, and Ginny turned to face him thoughtfully.

"Glad to hear it, because I'm sure I can find more things for you to clean downstairs," she said, slapping him on the bum.

Malfoy jerked, but he didn't move away. Ginny hit him again, harder, her palm landing squarely over his right buttock and stinging at the force of the blow.

She expected a protest, but Malfoy simply stared at the floor, blushing violently, and things clicked into place in Ginny's head. This was a kink for Malfoy.

"Perhaps that's enough for today," Ginny said loftily, trying to cover up her shock. "I'll Owl you a list of tasks to perform next week, and I might drop by to make sure you're performing them properly. You might be a decent cleaner, given adequate supervision."

Malfoy looked up at her then, and the smirk on his face reminded Ginny of her time at Hogwarts, when Malfoy was cheating at Quidditch or making obscene gestures across the Great Hall.

"But, Weasley," he drawled. "Think what I could achieve if your supervision were above adequate."

Before Ginny could muster a response, Malfoy Disapparated with a crack.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

An eagle owl arrived during breakfast the next morning, and Pansy read the letter in silence.

"I hope you have some kind of explanation," said Pansy at last. "Because Draco claims that you manhandled him in a most appalling way, accuses you of being the worst kind of pervert and tells me that you made him perform filthy tasks at the threat of physical abuse. What do you have to say about it?"

"That's a total exaggeration!" Ginny protested. "All I did was order him to clean the toilet and, all right, slap him on the arse a few times. Malfoy deserved a good spanking years ago, and you can't tell me that you've never been tempted."

"He tells me that you looked up his skirt, and that he's never been so humiliated in his life," Pansy said in a carefully neutral voice.

"Well, that's frankly ridiculous. If he's enough of a pervert to wear frilly knickers, then I don't think he has any moral high ground to criticize me for taking a peek," Ginny said, crossing her arms.

"Oh, I quite agree," Pansy replied, folding up the letter and placing it back in the envelope. "But I wish you'd told me beforehand. As your girlfriend, I reserve the right to witness all and any spankings you administer. Besides, if you'd given me some advance notice then I could have sold tickets."

"You really wanted to watch Malfoy clean our toilet?" Ginny asked doubtfully.

"No," drawled Pansy, drawing out the word. "I wanted to watch you boss Draco around and rough him up a little. Honestly Ginny, surely you can see the appeal."

Ginny remembered the sight of Malfoy in the French Maid's outfit, his pointy nose upturned, cheeks and arse pink.

"Perhaps a little," she admitted.

"Next time we'll arrange it so that we're both here when Draco comes," Pansy said decisively, reaching for a cup of coffee. "And we'll have to devise some suitable tasks for him to perform. My shoes need a polish, but I worry that Draco might enjoy that rather too much."

Ginny thought about the incredibly sexy shoes Pansy favoured, and had a mental image of Malfoy kneeling in front of her girlfriend as he licked clean a shining black stiletto.

"Yes, that might be better used a reward," Ginny agreed. "Perhaps for when he's scrubbed out the dustbins?"

"I never knew you had such a cruel streak. Your twin brothers were reputed to be the sadists of the family."

"If you think it's going too far--" Ginny begun.

"Don't worry about that," Pansy said dismissively. "Draco wouldn't have described everything to me in such detail if he hadn't thoroughly enjoyed it. I'm sure he thinks that kinky housemaid roleplay is a thousand times better than mere cleaning. The Malfoys have always had such issues around housework."

"Dobby," Ginny said, remembering her first year.

"Precisely," said Pansy and bit into her toast with a crunch.

"I always thought there were too many bossy people in this relationship," Ginny mused, watching her girlfriend devour the toast. "This might be the perfect solution. Who knew cleaning could be so much fun?"

Pansy flashed her a predatory smile. "Between the two of us, I'm sure we can put Draco in his place."

Ginny pushed the breakfast dishes aside and leaned across the table for a kiss. Pansy smiled against her mouth, and then nipped at Ginny's lower lip, just enough to sting without drawing blood. Ginny tangled a hand in Pansy's hair to pull her closer, deepening the kiss, and felt a warm hand cup her breast.

"Bed," Ginny suggested between kisses.

"We only just got out of bed," Pansy murmured, grazing her teeth over the sensitive skin beneath Ginny's ear. "Let's fuck right here."

The hand on Ginny's breast tightened, pinching her nipple, and Ginny moaned in appreciation. She shifted to sit on the table, leaning over Pansy, and heard a crash of pottery.

"Ignore it," Pansy said breathlessly, sliding her hand inside Ginny's shirt. "Who cares how much mess there is? We can just call Draco to clean it up."