: Neanderthalic BehaviourAuthor
: I own nothing, Draco and Ginny belong to JK Rowling. I just own the kids.
Golden beams of sunlight filtered through small gaps from drawn thick, velvet drapes, dust motes dancing to a silent tune, just visible. Heavy covers were pulled over a form, unconscious to the gentle beauty that the morning revealed, from the dusky pink sky ripening to it’s crisp blue dotted with pure white clouds, the sun glinting off still, calm surface of a lake making it shimmer like the many facets of a diamond under the rays of light. Unconscious to the fresh, brisk wind that made leaves escape from the confines of it’s trees and flying, dancing, in the air to find another destination, away, somewhere. No, the figure didn’t see this, as sleep still claimed her, sleep still had it’s deep, gentle, slumberous hold on her mind and her body, still made her lids heavy and her limbs relaxed. The form under the duvet was curled for warmth, a bundle under heavy covers, just a slim, pale ankle emerging to the world… an ankle and a tousled mass of copper curls resting on smooth, ivory shoulders.
A soft touch made her nose twitch, the object soft and smooth as a dream, disturbing her from hers and luring her, just gently, with a teasing promise of something else. However, it was not enough to pull her from the many wonders of slumber and aside from the initial nose-twitch, she showed no other signs of life, just settled back into sleep with a contented sigh. The brush, light as air, came again, this time tracing the contours of her face: tracing the wide forehead, the slim nose, the high cheekbones, the full, lush lower lip and the delicate arch of the top. She lifted one languorous hand to brush again the minor irritation, then proceeded to fall back to sleep. However, sleep couldn’t muffle the irritated sigh that accompanied that
brush off. A frown came to her face, but before she could blink doe-like eyes back to wakefulness, a hand came upon her bare shoulders… and roughly shook her awake. With a gasp of surprise, she shot up in bed, hair falling over her shoulders in an impressive array of tousled curls and looked towards the man now lounged indolently against the bedpost. She glared at him and he merely shrugged, lifting a gorgeous white rose, the bloom opened and the petals waxy and perfect.
“I tried to be subtle, romantic and all that, but you wouldn’t wake up.” That just made her glare at him intensify and he shot her an innocent look. “I really did. You could
have told me this romantic nonsense would be more trouble than it was worth.” Ginny could only sigh, only Draco Malfoy could be so… so… unromantic
and callous about romance… and look utterly divine doing so. She ran her fingers through tangled hair and let out a resigned sigh.
“You know, there’s a reason why lots of people wax poetic about the wonders of romance, Draco. You might like to take a lesson from them.” Draco wrinkled his nose. “Don’t do that, dear, you’ll get wrinkles.” She giggled when he glared at her, but stopped the wrinkling of the nose. “You’re such a girl, Malfoy.”
“But you love me for it.”
“Oh dear, are we being mushy?” Ginny giggled again as Draco looked outraged. She held out a hand, which Draco took, and pulled him down on the bed. She picked up the rose, which had fallen as he had, and sniffed. She let out a delighted little sigh and smiled up at him, the corners of her eyes crinkling and her eyes turning warm. “Thank you. The rose is lovely.”
“I know, I always have the best. That’s why I’m a Malfoy.”
“Don’t push it, Mr. Malfoy,” she said, dryly, patting the side of his face with the flower, deliberately turning it so the thorns from the stem scratched that almost perfect skin of his. He looked quite outraged by the gesture and Ginny had the most horrific urge to cackle. Loudly.
Ginny was fair thrown over the edge of the bed, letting out a little oof as the breath was knocked out of her. She was, however, laughing. Ginny sat back up, leaning against the headboard and pulling up the little boy securely against her side. She kissed his forehead, then ruffled the pale blond locks. “Morning, Edward.”
“Morning, mama,” he said, dutifully, the cultured tones already evident in the six-year-old. He turned adoring chocolate brown eyes to the woman beside him. “Happy Birthday.”
“Thank you, love,” she said, hugging the slight figure. Then she shot a little sideways glance towards her husband. “At least someone managed something right.”
“I tried,” Draco shrugged negligently, holding out his arms. Edward William Malfoy scampered to his father’s side and sat down next to the man. They were almost identical, those two, although Edwards was obviously younger. Edward inherited his father’s aristocratic features and pale hair, but he had Ginny’s eyes and her full mouth. Her smile, too. Warm and comfortable like toast. Draco had been the first to describe her as thus, toast. She smiled fondly, remembering how outraged she had been when Draco Malfoy had dropped to one knee and told the whole population of Hogwarts that he wanted to marry her because she reminded him of toast. He, of course, hadn’t understood why she had slapped him and stormed off in a huff. However… it was possibly the first nicest thing he’d ever said, about anyone. Ginny was like home, comfortable, warm. Toast. It was so odd… unless you knew Draco Malfoy. Because if you knew Draco Malfoy, you would know that he wasn’t just the evil, mindless git… he was also rather strange. Really rather strange. He was all sorts of abrupt, and he seemed lacking in the normal grace of people of his class. However… it gave him a certain charm, these… Neanderthal qualities. Although Ginny knew they were but a façade. No son of Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy would go through life a Neanderthal. Oh, Draco knew how to behave… he just chose not to.
Ginny sighed. Her life had changed so much, since realising she was in love with the brusque, evil Slytherin git that would become her husband. Draco was undeniably attractive, and in her humble and very much biased opinion, age had only improved in that department. He was like wine, he improved with age. Oh, he was still brusque, still Neanderthal-ic, but… that was okay. She knew him like no other knew him. Except, perhaps, Narcissa Malfoy. Then again, there were areas of Draco only she knew because the idea of Narcissa knowing them? Would surely scar her for life. It was after the war, she supposed. She’d lost her brothers: Bill, Percy and Ron, and Draco had lost Lucius… to the other side. Voldemort was killed by Harry, they were all going to live happily ever after. Except… things didn’t have a happy ending with her. They were all bad. Harry proposed, she agreed… she left him at the altar and took up a position to teach in Hogwarts. Draco was also teaching, the ministry had locked up his inheritance until they could find no evidence of Draco being on the side of the Dark Lord. They met, they fell in lust, they had several trysts all over the castle (brought back many a memory from her own time in Hogwarts as a teacher. Gods, she wished she could apologise to all her old professors, now. The students were complete nightmares!), she got pregnant, she found out she was in love with Draco, Edward was born, Draco proposed. Normal, everyday couple stuff, really. Not. They had never been normal, the two of them. She suspected this was why they got along so well.
Ginny was shaken out of her thoughts by another figure hurling itself into her arms. This time, the eyes that peered up at her from under tangled blonde locks were silver-blue and the face a cherubic, female reproduction of Draco. Totally and completely. Draco was already uncomfortably aware he would have to brutalise several young boys. Guinevere already proved to have the angelic looks that would only ripen as she would grow. At the moment, though, the child flashed her mother a smile that was so alike Draco’s that her heart tugged.
“Happy Birthday, mam,” she said, her voice soft as she hugged her mother, snuggling into Ginny’s warm body and sniffing her neck. It was something she’d seen her Daddy do, and she’d always loved the way her mother smelt. Like cinnamon and cookies. Homey things that was just so comfortable. Sometimes her mother smelt like nature, like damp earth after the rain. She always liked playing when it was after the rain, because the smell reminded her of her mum. Mam wasn’t always so pleased, though, when she went back in her torn and muddy clothes. She word Eddie’s clothes, now. Boy’s clothes. They didn’t rip so much. Thinking about it, her bottom lip jutted out in a childish pout. She liked it when her clothes ripped.
“Thank you, sweetheart,” she said, hugging her daughter. Ginny locked eyes with her husband over her daughter’s head and smiled tenderly at him. He returned the smile, his hands running through Edward’s hair. Her family, their
family. Their children and their lives that they had built from absolute scratch. Sometimes life didn’t go as it should, with her. Sometimes things happened in her life that she wished wouldn’t, but it was moments like this when she was around her husband and her children when she knew everything would be alright. She leaned forward and brushed her mouth against Draco’s, everything absolutely perfect
. Of course, that was before twin shrieks could be heard.
!!!! Mama and Daddy kissed
Ginny couldn’t help but laugh.