Fic: Patented Daydream Packages (Harry/Ginny, Draco/Ginny, Draco/Ginny/Harry)
To: chanond
From: biggrstaffbunch


Title: Patented Daydream Packages
Author: biggrstaffbunch
Gift For: chanond
Rating: NC17
Pairing(s): Harry/Ginny, Draco/Ginny, Draco/Ginny/Harry (*sort of*)
Summary: Ginny Weasley has always been a very good girl. What happens when she decides to escape from reality in a very...naughty way?
Warnings: This story contains sexual activity between consenting teens.
Author's notes: Thanks so r_becca for not kicking me out. I've been the worst fic exchange participant this side of ever, and hopefully this fic does not reflect that. For the request of Harry/Ginny/Draco, UST buildup, small degree of voyuerism. Hope you enjoy.



* * *



Ginny Weasley has always been a very good girl.



Well, all right-- most of the time.



The thing with good girls is that their safe, by-the-book, under-their-family's-thumb lives have the tendency to become dreadfully boring. Rules, regulations, and order only hold so much allure in the face of six older brothers who thrive on danger and chaos, after all. Sometimes a girl wants nothing more than to roll down her knee socks, hitch up her skirt, and live a little.



On days like that, Ginny is usually so frightened of herself that she sequesters herself in her room, latest trashy romance novel in hand, lest someone meet the wrong end of her sexual frustration.



Because the other thing with reasonable, practical girls is that when they find themselves walking the thin line between common sense and rebellion, they usually retreat to a place deep within themselves. Fearing what they would do when presented with temptation, the good girls find an outlet through which they live vicariously. In Ginny's case, it is the latest publication of A Wand in Time and a nice session with her trusty fingers. After breathless dates that leave Ginny flushed and charged, with itchy skin and jittery nerves, the worn, beloved book is there under her pillow and her hand is at the ready, ready to soothe her anxious mind and send her off to lands where she can look and touch without worrying about being called a slag. In the world of imagination, at least, Ginny can be something other than innocent and virginal, and not have to worry about embarrassing herself silly all the while.


And yet.



Today, her latest "adventure" has caused her heart to double its rhythym until she can scarcely breathe, and for the first time ever, Ginny isn't sure that the exploits of Lady Victoria and Lord Nicholas are going to be any good at calming her down. As she enters the darkened Burrow, she is thankful for the closed doors of the rooms beside her own. Ginny notices her hand is shaking as she opens her door and walks in. Her high heels are kicked in the corner instead of put away properly, and she carelessly drops her cloak in a pile next to them. She rolls off her stockings before crawling into bed in her wrinkled dress, tugging the covers up around her and sinking into the darkness. With a weary flick of her wand, the curtains of the window swish close and her desk light flickers on. Then Ginny's hands instinctually reach under the pillow for the book she desperately hopes will give her some reprieve.



She finds a Patented Daydream Package instead.



Sitting straight up in her bed, Ginny falters. Oh, this is just asking for trouble. When Fred first slipped it to her last summer in the twins' crowded joke shop, she had rolled her eyes and accepted, reasoning that it wouldn't do to make a scene and refuse. After all, it wasn't as if she was going to use the dratted, stupid thing. She'd tossed the box under her headboard and promptly forgotten about it. But here it is now, beckoning in the soft light from the desk. Normally, Ginny would blanche and throw the package away.



But instead, Ginny sweeps her fingers over the smooth surface of the intriguing box, and wonders-- what would it be like to escape for a little while? Never before had an opportunity to try it out presented itself, but now--



The image flashes through her mind, of grasping hands, panting gasps, and the familiar longing to just go a little bit farther until reason sets in. Her date tonight has left her itchy with need, like her dates have done every night since she and Harry had their huge fight five months ago following Voldemort's demise.



In short, this good girl needs a shag, and bad.



Clutching the small box and easing it out, Ginny lets that long-ago, devil-may-care attitude take ahold of her. Now is as good time as any to test for herself the effectiveness of the Daydream the twins have created, isn't it? Now, when she could use a release from the oppressing desire and the sick feeling of longing in her gut. Now, when she doesn't have to look in the eyes of another Harry clone and know she wants Harry still, and wants him with a fervor that scares her greatly. Now, when everyone is asleep and she has the privacy and freedom to just leave herself.



Ginny Weasley has always been a very good girl and because of this, she carefully eases the package open, whispers the incantation, and succumbs to the only means of comfort she has on this horrid, terrible, frustrating night--




* * *




A second later, Ginny opens her eyes.



She wonders fleetingly where exactly she is before remembering. Oh, right, she thinks. Daydream. Her hands clench in anticipation of swashbuckling pirates and oiled chests.



Instead, she gets opulence and mood-lighting.



She is in a room with large stone walls and lanterns with orange flames flickering shadows across her face. There are tapestries of beautiful maidens and handsome knights lining the walls, lush displays of color and excess. Fruit baskets and chocolate pieces line the vanity and dressers, and in the dim glow from the lanterns, Ginny can see rose petals strewn among the goodies. It is the ultimate setup of seduction, complete with the large, plush bed she is lying on currently. Satiny sheets the color of deep, bleeding crimson swath the bed, beneath soft pillows threaded with scarlet and gold. Silvery curtains hang around the bed, creating a a soft diffuse to the room that makes Ginny feel as if she's in another world completely.



The filmy curtains flutter in an inexplicable breeze stirring through the windowless room. The air smells like jasmine and grass, and Ginny feels a stirring in her lower abdomen at the sheer sensuality of the scent. She grabs a soft, gold pillow and hugs it to her chest, then looks down at her form in surprise.



Gone is her demure little black dress from her date earlier this evening. Instead, Ginny is wearing a floaty green nightie, straps thin and delicate against her shoulders and hemline riding dangerously close to upper thigh. She blushes and despite herself, her nipples harden visibly through the thin, lacy bodice.



She swallows and blinks the confusion out of her eyes, eager to start the daydream.



"Love slave?" she calls tentatively, because really, what good is this fantasy if there isn't a love slave? She clears her throat and giggles. It's a daydream, she reminds herself. There's no use being nervous about something that isn't even real.



Doesn't mean she isn't anxious to know whose company she'll be keeping during these lovely hours just floating about in the inner reaches of her dirty mind.



"Hello?" Ginny tries again. "Anybody?"



The large, ornate door thunders as a knock rumbles the doorframe and Ginny yelps. Swallowing again, hard, she gingerly swings her legs off the bed. So, it's one of those ask and ye shall recieve daydreams. Ginny smiles. Fred and George might not have thought of the implications of their baby sister using their charm for sex, but it surely has served Ginny's purposes so far.



Her skin tingles, actually tingles, in anticipation as her hand grasps the doorknob and twists.



And then her heart, rolling along at a healthy, eager pace, skids, stumbles, and screeches to a halt. Because standing in front of her, hair messy, spectacles crooked, green silk robe open over toned chest and low-slung boxer shorts....is Draco Malfoy.




* * *




"Oh," Ginny breathes after a moment, backing away involuntarily, her hand over her chest.



Malfoy arches a brow, focusing on her bosom for just a fraction of an instant before raising his sharp gaze to hers.



"Quite," he drawls, then pushes off the doorframe and saunters into the room as if he owns it. And, Ginny thinks dazedly, it actually looks like he could. Her eyes involuntarily follow the lines of Malfoy's arse as he walks, and Ginny is momentarily appalled to feel that familiar drop in her lower stomach as Malfoy turns and catches her eye.



"Weaslette," he begins, cocking his head and picking up a strawberry from the fruit bowl, nibbling at it experimentally. "You look a little like you're going out of your freckled head."



The delicate insult jolts Ginny out of the dreamy surprise of seeing Malfoy here in what was supposed to be her cave of carnal sin.



"You were supposed to be Harry," she snaps, her hands on her hips.



Malfoy's eyes again follow the way Ginny's breasts heave as she huffs in indigant righteousness. "That's obvious," he retorts, reaching up to finger the spectacles still sitting askew on his nose. "Every time I try and take away these blasted things, I end up almost burning my fingers. Also, my hair..." he stops, as if the tragedy is too much to continue. "My hair is awful. I don't know how Potter lives his infernal life with a dead Kneazle on his head." He looks in the mirror on the vanity for a few moments, his hands running through his hair slowly. Ginny squirms for a second as she imagines grabbing that hair between her fingers as she rides Malfoy's lithe frame for all she's worth--



Malfoy screams in surprise and waves his hand around, smoke rising from his impeccably kept nails. He scowls as he turns from the mirror and glares at her from behind specs that are crookedly, stubbornly staying on. "Weaslette," he declares, "I officially hate you."



Ginny groans and mashes her palms against her eyes, her body still a little flushed from that flash of a mental image. "And I hate you," she responds despairingly. "So why are you here?"



Malfoy shrugs. "Maybe you have some freakish, deep-seated attraction to my wicked good looks. How the bloody hell should I know? I'm here, I'm in a pair of really unsupportive undergarments, and I'm some twisted parody of fucking Potter. This is your fault, so get on with the indignity already!"



The jasmine-scented breeze floats under Ginny's nose once again and she inhales, ready to lob a scathing retort and a Bat-Bogey Hex at Malfoy's dumb head. Then she shudders, feeling heady, liquid-smooth sensations flow through her veins to her toes and fingertips. Her skin warms as the jasmine curls around her limbs, and she rubs her thighs together as that familiar tightening between her legs takes affect. The sound of Malfoy's voice and the way his hair tumbles across his forehead, and his stupid, blasted specs are doing something odd to her.



This daydream, she decides almost desperately, is rapidly turning into more trouble than it's worth. The descriptions of Lord Nicholas's thorough ravishing of Lady Victoria would have helped Ginny get to the same place, arching and crying out at the darkened ceiling of her bedroom. She certainly doesn't need an imaginary Malfoy to get off--



Or does she?




* * *




Her eyes fly open as Malfoy's fingers brush her arm. He is looking down at her uncertainly, his shoulders bunched in an awkward who-knows? shrug. Ginny clenches her fingers to stop from punching--or, oh Merlin, caressing-- him. His lips are so close, his breath stirring against her nose. She doesn't want him here, not looking at her with that wide, grey-eyed look that's almost like anticipation underneath all the contempt. He's never looked at her like that in real life, never even given an indication that she's a person to him, much less a desirable person. It feels grossly false that Ginny should stand next to him now, her nipples aching, wishing he would just touch her already.



But it's a daydream, and her skin is so hypersensitive right now, if a troll touched her, let alone someone who's as inarguably attractive as Malfoy, she'd likely combust. As it is, the spectacles really do turn her on past any points of comprehension, so she gives up and tugs Malfoy's head to meet hers. After all, just because she hates Malfoy, doesn't mean she can't at least get some practical use out of him tonight.



Good girls wouldn't, and right now, Ginny's is everything but.



"Malfoy," Ginny sighs seriously. "Shut up from now on, alright?"



Malfoy just nods mutely as his fingers trace the dip of her back, caressing her bum in a way that sends shivers down her spine.



His kiss is hot and possessive when he leans down, his lips dry but smooth, his tongue already moving against hers in a maddeningly firm rhythym. His fingers grasp her jaw and slip through her hair, his hands guiding her chin as he changes angles, slanting his mouth over hers this way and that. Each new kiss brings a new sensation, a new taste of mint and fruit and something warm like dusk. The heat of his body against hers, his hard chest and thighs pressed against her front brings Ginny even closer to his form, her fingers skating over his nape and the hollows of his neck.



He may not be Harry, but Dream-Malfoy is almost as good. As long as he keeps on using his mouth for things other than talking.



Ginny gasps into his kiss as Malfoy's hips bump hers, the hard ridge of his erection already evident. Her eyes open once again and look Malfoy in the face. His eyes are bright and almost feverish, and his lips pink, swollen. Ginny gulps as another wave of unadultered lust sweeps through her, causing her stomach to contract and her legs to shake. This is the part where she usually runs from her dates, not ready to sleep with random men when she is positive of what she really wants. And what she really wants is Harry, no matter how pig-headed he's being at the moment. It's Harry she dreams about usually, and it's only Harry's hands she will let touch her like this in real life.



But no matter how much she loves Harry, wants Harry, misses Harry--



Dream-Malfoy's hands are doing pretty well right about now.



Malfoy's fingers creep up the side of her hem before he's cupping her bum in his hands and pushing her up and closer, the hot, strong feel of his palm against her skin taking Ginny's breath away for a moment. His fingers are dangerously close to the wet heat already emanating from between Ginny's legs, and as Malfoy kisses her fiercely again, she moans into his mouth and widens her stance. Malfoy groans in response and squeezes her bum, inching his fingers closer until they are almost stroking her moist slit.



Ginny holds her breath for a moment, clutching Malfoy's shoulders, and then his hands are there, touching her, and she is positive it is all over. There is no way she can resist him now, and fantasy or not--she needs this moment more than she ever thought possible.




* * *




Malfoy brings his fingers back and forth along her cunt before leaning down and sucking her nipples through her nightdress. "Malfoy," Ginny gasps. "Fuck."



Malfoy just gives a breathless acknowledgement in response, one hand inching up beneath her night-dress and the other continuing its lazy perusal of her most secret part. When one hand finds her breast, the one he didn't lave, cupping its heavy weight and swiping across her nipples, Ginny grits her teeth against how good it feels in tandem with his other hand stroking from arse to front in a slow, heated rhythym.



When Malfoy finds her clit, Ginny actually growls as she pushes his hand away so she can rip her nightdress off, cooling her overheated skin and making her nipples pucker even more. Then she is stepping closer, reaching down and working her hands through the slit of Malfoy's boxers to take ahold of his cock. Ginny is so intent on her task, she doesn't even notice Malfoy's wide-eyed gaze. When he makes a stuttery groan at the feel of her hands wrapped around his erection, Ginny chances a look up at him. His silver eyes are fastened on her naked form, and Ginny feels two high spots of color rush to her cheeks as she realizes Malfoy is the only other person besides Harry she's ever been nude for.



Ginny's hands reach down to work her own clit and continue what Malfoy started. He makes a noise of protest but she shakes her head and kneels. This is what she wants right now, inexplicably. To be in power, and contrary to what anyone has ever told her, she's never felt more powerful than when on her knees, driving her man insane.



Her man. Ginny gasps and pants as her fingers work the tight bundle of nerves that is sending off white-hot sparks through her body, gathering slow, coiled ropes of warm tension in the pit of her belly and the small of her back. The feel of cock is heavy on her tongue, warm and pulsing, and she sucks leisurely as Malfoy groans and writhes. Ginny wishes for a moment, looking up at the way Malfoy's hair is so much whiter than ebony, how his eyes are light instead of dark emerald, how his specs are square instead of round, that her "man" was really here.



And then, just as Malfoy grabs Ginny's head and she feels that contraction in the rolling weight of his balls, there is a bright flash of light and standing in the room is none other than...



Harry.



"Ask and ye shall recieve," comes a sing-song voice a lot like Fred's, and then Ginny is looking up in desire mingled with horror as Malfoy comes, warm and sticky across her chest.



With Harry, his familiar green eyes wide with shock and repulsion, watching.




* * *



The orgasm that was building in Ginny is slightly tamped down at the look on Harry's face, and the utter surprise of seeing him here, of all places. Malfoy is slumped over slightly, his hand damp on Ginny's shoulder as he recovers from his orgasm. But his eyes are shiny and calculating as they fasten on Harry's form.



Ginny decides she likes this Malfoy so much better than real-life Malfoy, whom she has a sneaking suspicion would be hexing Harry right now, cock spent and all. Then she thinks she probably ought to like this Malfoy better, as he's a complete product of her imagination, and has managed to get her riled up in a way that is panging painfully through Ginny's body now, as her unfinished orgasm lies panting in her veins.



Against her better judgement, (but then this entire fantasy is against her better judgement and it just doesn't matter anymore) Ginny's fingers again begin working at her clit, pressing and rolling and making Ginny arch up on her knees, her head lolling back as the itchy warmth builds deep in her muscles. Her breath comes in gasps and pants and she gives a desperate, apologetic frown to Harry before closing her eyes and grabbing Malfoy's hand, placing it on her breasts. His fingers work at her nipples, caressing and pinching and then Ginny hears a thud as he drops to his knees and places his mouth against her left breast.



The flutter of his tongue and teeth against her nipple, the heated moisture of his mouth sucking at her sensitive skin, pulls everything into a tiny, volatile little ball in the pit of Ginny's stomach, and as her fingers work faster, as the itchy sensation grows more and more hot and bright, she falls back, grinding her center against the heel of her hand and making low keening noises between whispering frantically.



It's only when she's blasted high off into the atmosphere and then come down again, shaking and gasping at the aftereffects of her incredible orgasm, that she notices that she's been saying Harry's name the entire time.



"Like what you see, Potter?"



Malfoy's voice cuts through the drugged, jasmine-and-sex scented air and Ginny starts, her heart thudding to life once again. Harry's eyes have darkened to almost black, and Ginny gulps, afraid she has gone too far.



"Yes," Harry admits, his voice rough. "I really, really do."



Ginny feels a flash of promise and then Harry steps closer, his fingers undoing his buttons slowly. The flash of promise turns to full-fledged desire, and Ginny makes a mental note to thank Fred and George for their brilliancy. Later.



Harry's eyes have gone very dark.



Much, much later.




* * *




Harry continues speaking, almost casually, as his shirt lies discarded on the floor and he begins working on his trousers. "Of course, I'd like what I see even better if Malfoy weren't around, but..." Harry trails off, his eyes zeroing in on Ginny's form. "This is her fantasy. So I'm here because she wants me, too."



"No need to be petulant, Potter," Malfoy drawls. "These stupid spectacles and my tragic bed-head are evidence enough that Weasley really wanted you all along. But variety is the spice of life, and I think it's...interesting that there's three of us here, and not one of us is leaving." Malfoy turns to Ginny, his hand lazily stroking his erection. "Weaslette? Have you been thinking naughty menage a trois thoughts?"



Ginny squeezes her eyes shut. "Not of late," she grits. "And lovely how you're making this incredibly awkward, Malfoy..."



"Oh, shut it, you old cow," Malfoy says, almost affectionately. "This was all already horrendously awkward." He looks sated and sly now that he's come, and he saunters closer behind Ginny, stroking her spine slowly. "There's no other explanation for it, really. Why else would the daydream, designed with your greatest desire in mind, pop both of us here into your den of sin?"



Ginny shivers at the feel of his fingers on her back and the heat of Harry's gaze on her open, sweat-sheened body. "Because in the beginning I was so desperate for a shag, I asked for someone--anyone--to come deliver me. And alright. You do have a strange sort of attractiveness. But I was desperate!" Harry looks at her strangely and Ginny shrugs. "It's been a long time," she says softly, averting her eyes. Harry's gaze deepens with guilt.



"Yes, my real-life counterpart isn't so good at knowing what's best for him, is he? But I know. I could have done so much for you." Harry's voice slides over Ginny's senses, hot and velveteen. "So why am I here if someone--anyone--was enough for you?" he asks, pouting deliciously. His trousers are bulging in a tell-tale fashion, and Ginny smirks, thinking that probably, Harry doesn't care either way right now. She tells the truth anyway.



"I wanted you to be. I want you. I miss you and think of you, and Malfoy may have been an accident--"



"Yeah, you can say that again," Harry grumbles. Malfoy makes an indelicate sound of protest.



"--a happy accident, but he was an accident nonetheless. You are here because I wished you would be. So are you going to take advantage of this fantasy or flounder about and give me a severe case of sexual frustration again, which is what got us into this mess in the first place?" Ginny lets her hands cup her breasts, arching into Malfoy's touch as he massages her shoulders and licks her neck.



Harry looks at Ginny for a moment more and Ginny tilts her neck back, liberated by the fact that now that Harry is finally here, she actually doesn't really need him. Malfoy's doing a terrific job all on his own. Doesn't mean that she doesn't want Harry, however, and Ginny spreads her legs wider and lets her fingers drift down to tug her curls, just to entice Harry a little bit more.



It does the trick. With a growl and falling to his knees, Harry is tugging Ginny's cunt to his mouth in one smooth motion, and then: oblivion.



* * *



Harry Potter at her center and Draco Malfoy at her back, and Ginny has never, ever felt more satisfied than right this second. Draco's cock is nudging her arse, and she wiggles, rubbing against his erection and smiling as his moans brush hotly against her neck. His hands are rolling and tugging at her nipples, and his lips find hers as she leans back, turns her face to meet his. His kiss is hot and wet, and Ginny squirms at the feel of his tongue on hers and Harry's tongue in her.



Harry's hands grip her thighs as he licks firmly at her clit, and Ginny is so preoccupied she doesn't notice Malfoy's fingers creeping up her skin. His hand pauses to stroke her curls for a moment, palm cupping her centre, before his fingers spear into her. Ginny cries out, arching against Malfoy's fingers twisting in and out, in and out, and the rub and swipe of Harry's tongue against the little bundle of nerves currently humming happily.



When the world explodes, the only thing that anchors Ginny to the floor is Harry's fingers biting into her thighs and Malfoy's lips latched onto her neck.



They don't give her much time to recover. Once Ginny can breathe even slightly again, Harry swoops in and claims her mouth with his, kissing her fiercely. Malfoy's hands gather Ginny's hair at her nape and move her curls aside to kiss her shoulder, and back, her hip. Then Harry is hitching her hips up and Malfoy is helping, letting Ginny lean back against him as Harry wraps her legs around his waist and moves closer, his cock pressing against her tingling center as he reclaims her mouth.



"Harry," she gasps, between kisses and the slow, burning grind Harry has started up. Malfoy in the back keeps Ginny's steady, holds some of her weight as she undulates desperately against Harry.



"Potter," Malfoy hisses, and Ginny can feel his erection spring back to life, rubbing against the small of her back. "Give her what she wants."



Harry smiles. "Oh? And what would that be?" He pushes against Ginny, lets his erection grind slowly against her. Ginny mewls and rolls her hips, causing Malfoy to curse.



"Fuck her, you bloody imbecile! We don't have much time left."



Ginny sobs her agreement, her hands scrabbling to find purchase against Harry's shoulders. "Please," she gasps. "Oh, Merlin, please."



Harry smiles again, this time grimly. "Because we have no time left...and because you both asked so nicely..." Then he is nudging his boxers down and positioning himself at Ginny's opening, holding her legs and inching in ever so slowly. Ginny strains and cries out in desire, and Malfoy rubs her breasts, swiping his thumbs across her nipples. Harry grabs Ginny's waist, claims her mouth, and plunges home, his erection filling her with that long-lost, thick, hot feeling of home.



In and out, in and out, slow and delicious, as Ginny cries out Harry's name. Malfoy's hand finds her clit as Harry thrusts, and Ginny tilts her head back to prop against Malfoy's shoulder. Harry's breathing is ragged as he begins to pick up pace in time with the speed of Ginny's gasping moans, and soon, his thrusts are erratice driving, hard and rough and oh-so-good. Ginny feels that tenacious grip on this unreality begin to unravel, and she gasps louder, encouraging Harry.



"Harder," she begs. "Faster." So Harry thrusts and Malfoy rubs her clit, and then he captures her mouth in a kiss as Harry falls forward, kissing her neck and collarbone as that tingling, tight feeling expands within her.



When they all come, one after another, she swears she blinks out of existence for a moment before she realizes her fantasy is coming to an end. She wonders for a second if she'll even be able to walk tomorrow, let alone ever look either of these men in the eye, but she is too busy kissing both of them, sloppily, to care.



The daydream shimmers out of existence as Ginny's eyes droop closed, and the feeling of longing settles deep in her bones.




* * *




The fantasy is still in the vague corners of her mind as Ginny slips into wakefulness, the smell of sex and Harry and Malfoy's colognes still lingering deep in Ginny's nose. Her eyes open drowsily and she takes in the pink frilly curtains and the worn bedspread of her childhood room. Her fingers are clutched tightly around the Daydream Package, and she smiles as she remembers the abandon with which her most secret fantasy had been fulfilled.



Fred and George have an industry here, Ginny thinks. A very lucrative one at that. She'd certainly pay a Galleon or two for another experience like the one she's just had.



Ginny cocks her head, thinks of how familiar that look of longing on Malfoy and Harry's faces had been when the fantasy had started dissipating. And then she smiles slow, thinking that maybe she won't need a Daydream package next time. It's time to take the bull by the horns and tell Harry exactly what she wants from him. And stopping by Malfoy's office in Diagon Alley, especially after-hours, isn't so outlandish, either. Last time she ran a file past his department, she'd seen him eye her legs with interest.



Ginny nods to herself, satisfied, snuggling deep in her covers, and thinks maybe Lord Nicholas and Lady Victoria aren't all they're cracked up to be after all.



--finis---