Ava Adore, part 3: Just A Phase
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Summary: Desperate times call for desperate measures, and neither Ginny Weasley nor Draco Malfoy particularly lack in the despair department. Good soil for an unhealthy relationship that has the potential to give them everything they ever wanted while losing everything everybody else ever wanted for them.
Author's Note: Here's the next chapter. Thanks to everybody who reviewed, and sorry it took me so long to update, but I am somebody who uses writing as some sort of stress outlet - mostly school related stress. Er, well, holiday right now. Anyway, this chapter was finished before I started uploading chaters here, so that's no excuse, but really, I wanted chapter four to be finished before I post this. It's not finished. I'm stuck at 500 words, and so I have to wait for stress school again :)
As I had predicted, I woke up sore the next morning. Sore and tired, and sticky, as I hadn't managed to take a bath after … that.
What I had not expected, would have never expected in a million years was that, despite my discomfort, I felt good. Content. Just thinking about it gave me the chills, and so I chose not to dwell on it for the moment, silently sneaking down to the bathroom to scrub the remnants of last night's activities away, dumping my dirty and bloodied clothes in the laundry on the way.
My back hurt from where I'd been slammed into the bookshelf too hard, but the gentle stream of warm water that was running over it seemed to caress it, making up for my pain, that was still only half-unwelcome. Every time I bumped a particularly sore spot, I would remember last night, and it brought a twisted kind of content over me.
As I got out of the shower and looked at my bruised neck and hips I decided to cast a concealing charm on them so that nobody would be suspicious of what had transpired the night before.
Then I got dressed, quietly humming to myself, at one with the world for once.
At breakfast, I sat down next to Ron, who was conversing with Harry and Hermione at the other side of the table, not too far from Neville, giving them a sunny smile before wishing them a good morning. I earned quite a few stares, believe me.
"Well, er, hello Ginny, glad you came out of your sulk," Harry said uneasily before wincing noticeably. Hermione's face had tensed, and I guessed that she must have kicked him in the shin or something.
But I didn't take offense. I'd decided to return to how I'd been before on my way there. The evening before I'd been dead set on seeking the library out again, tonight, but in the light of day, everything looked different.
I'd gotten what I wanted, and would continue my life as if nothing had happened. It had probably just been a phase anyway.
So I just smiled and plucked a piece of steaming toast on to my plate. "Yes, about that," I said, a bit embarassedly, "I wanted to apologize in case I was somehow…strange, these past few days." I glanced at the other occupants of the table, trying to gauge their reactions. I'd not talked and socialized with them, closed myself out, not that I'd ever been part of anything big to begin with.
When my gaze finally landed on Neville, I felt my chest constrict with guilt. He even looked half-hopeful, but I knew I shouldn't, couldn't and wouldn't try to make things like they'd been before with him. But I would do my best to get things right again.
"Neville, I-" I began, before I could stop myself. The thought that the breakfast table was not the right place to discuss our relationship, or rather, what had been a relationship, what with the whole bloody school being our audience.
"Yes?" he asked, with a much more down-to-earth expression now. He had probably realized that not everything would be as it had been, and I hated myself for disappointing such a sweet boy.
"Never mind. We should…talk, you know? Later," I finished, lamely. He merely nodded and returned to his breakfast, and I to mine.
Everybody seemed pleased to see my normal self back again. At least that was what I thought. Until I finally got a good look at Ron, who did not look particularly pleased.
"Is everything okay, Ron?" I asked, concerned. I knew that I'd treated him like shit, and that acting as if it had never happened was wrong, but I couldn't help it - I just had to.
"Yes-no-yes, everything is okay," he mumbled before gulping down some pumpkin juice.
I laid my hand on his arm, but he jerked it away as if he'd been burned and I wondered what it was that made him act this way.
"Ron, I think we need to talk," I stated softly, trying to get through to him.
"Yes, later, gottago," my brother said, hastily, before leaving the table in a rush. I blinked and looked at Harry and Hermione, who looked away uncomfortably when they noticed my gaze.
"Look, everybody has their bad days from time to time. You just had yours, and Ron looks like he has his, now. Just…. don't bother him," Hermione said amicably but firmly.
"You two are more alike than you'd think, eh?" Harry said, as if to lighten the mood. The temperature had somehow seemed to drop a couple of degrees when he said that, at least that's what it felt like to me.
I stiffened in my seat, and winced when this led to some very uncomfortable messages being sent from my bum to my brain.
And before I knew it, I'd gotten up and left in a manner much like Ron's, all the happiness or whatever it had been gone.
I ran up to my room and locked myself in, throwing my body onto my bed, not caring about my muscles screaming in protest, and started sobbing into my pillow.
I didn't know why Ron's mood affected me so much, but the fact that it did remained.
And suddenly I was the insecure and dissatisfied little witch again with a void in her so big that it took extremes to fill it. I knew what I could do to fill it, and I knew that I should not do it. That I would not do it, as I'd thought that morning before getting up. I had needed him to clear my mind the day before, but I did not need him to do it again. I would get my sorry ass out of this mess, and I would do it without anyone else's help.
I would not bring shame on my family by sleeping with the enemy again, and I would find something else that would free me from this madness that I had slipped into as a child.
With that in mind, a little more resolved than before I walked to my first class and went on with my day, banishing all kinds of negative thoughts from my mind.
And, because I had been so resolved, and so determined to make it work that I was shocked to find myself leaning against that bookshelf, engulfed by almost all-consuming darkness again, that night, whirling around when I heard footsteps approach, footsteps that I could identify as his without a doubt by now.
He stopped a metre away from me, staring at me calculatingly with those piercing grey eyes of his.
"How about we take this somewhere more private, Weasley?" he asked with a suggestive smirk.
"How about we don't?" I replied, not sure why.
"No." was his very simple answer.
"Why should I go anywhere with you?" I shot back, and I meant it. I didn't trust him. True, I'd let him fuck me quite violently once, but this did not imply trust. I was probably crazy as a hatter, by normal standards, but not stupid.
"Because what I have in mind for you requires some privacy, and now stop wasting my time and come ," he snapped impatiently, proceeding to drag me away with him.
I followed him through the nightly castle, trying to make as little sounds as possible, even though that was probably not necessary, seeing as I was accompanied by a prefect on duty.
We finally stopped in front of the portrait of a woman dressed in what looked like a Victorian dress who did not spare me more than just one, short glance while Malfoy hissed something to her that I coud not make out. It had obviously been a password of sorts, as the portrait swung open, revealing a panelled corridor behind it.
I frowned. This was the first place at Hogwarts that I had seen that was paneled with wood. Where had he taken me? It couldn't have been the Slytherin Common Room, as we were somewhere above ground, perhaps on the height of the second floor, and everybody knew that the Slytherin Common Room was in the dungeons.
"Voilà, here we are," he finally announced, startling me from my thoughts. And when I finally took a good look around, I could not help but stare. There was a fireplace on the opposite side of the room, with a comfortable-looking sofa in front of it. The walls in the whole room were panelled, just like the the corridor, and even though I was no expert, everything looked expensive. Very much so, in fact. On the far side of the room was a table with four elgenantly carved chairs.
There wasn't any other furniture other than the sofa, chairs and table, even though the room certainly was plenty spacious.
"My father had this room installed back in his Hogwarts days, if you must know," I heard Malfoy say somewhere to my right, and noticed that he was sneering at my obvious display of awe at the simple splendour the room emanated in waves.
"Tell me, is there some malfunction in your limbic lobe, Weasley?" he then asked while removing his tie.
I blinked and stared at him mutely, not sure what should surprise me more - the fact that he was trying to talk to me, or the fact that he was unbuttoning his shirt now.
"Seemed a simple enough question, don't you think?" he snapped when I failed to answer him.
I shook my head in order to try to understand things just a tad more, but he seemed to mistake it for a gesture of negation.
"Look, do I have to spell it out for you?" he said impatiently. "Why are you here?"
I was about to answer - precisely what, though, I didn't know - when something clicked in my brain.
It always takes two to tango.
I looked at him a little closer. I'd always focussed on the way he had looked in my encounters with him, but never really what he looked like. There was a difference. And, as I noted during my brief but thorough inspection, while Draco Malfoy was not exactly a handsome fellar, he was definitely attractive in a dark kind of way. I was sure that he could have any girl he wanted in Slytherin with a wave of his hand, because of his connections, his money and his family line. He could probably get under more than one Ravenclaw's skirts too.
Yet he was here, with me .
"What are you doing here?" I asked in return.
He clearly hadn't expected that. "What?"
"You heard me. What are you doing here?" I repeated my earlier question, not about to give up on it. He had stripped down to his boxers by now, and I could see with a sort of strange satisfaction that he had a very nicely sculpted chest, something that had been hidden from my view the night before.
I seemed to have hit something, because he chose to ignore me, barking at me to take off my clothes instead.
"Only if you answer my question," I replied, not really sure what I was doing, what I was trying to accomplish.
What was I doing there, anyway? Hadn't I decided not to come?
And, as I learned during the span of the next minute, Draco Malfoy did not take 'no' as an answer, not even if it came in the disguise of an 'only if'.
I was harshly grabbed by the collar and with one mighty tug, the fabric of my robe tore, and I was left standing in front of a very irate young man who was violently plucking one button after the other from my blouse until it hung open in a very sorry state, revealing another one of my endless stash of plain white cotton bras. Both the blouse and the bra were gone none too gently mere seconds later along with my Gryffindor tie, and he set to work on my skirt while I stood and stared, too surprised to stop him, or perhaps simply not inclined to do so.
When he had divested me of the last piece of clothing, I blushed, more aware than yesterday at how vulnerable I was right now, even though he was almost as naked as I was.
As he raised one slender hand to my neck to pull my face close to his' until our noses nearly touched, my expression as blank as his was contorted with ire, I felt a shiver of excitement spreading over my whole body. Traitor.
This was not what I had planned, and this was not what I wanted.
"You need this…" he spat before pulling me over to the table by my hair, and when we got there, he picked me up and sat me down on the edge none too gently, and I didn't even have the time to say anything because he pulled his boxers down and plunged his cock into me again without preamble, not bothering with any of the biting and teasing he'd done yesterday, wasting no gentleness on me. And he was right, there must be something wrong with my limbic lobe, because I knew that it would have been wasted on me.
And so I let him have his way with me, laying down on the cool surface of the table while he stood and tried his best to tear right through my whole body, the same sweet pain and indescribable pleasure as yesterday washing over me once again, the only difference being that he did not sink to the floor when he finished this time, but he rather toppled down on me, trapping me under his heavy and sweaty body.
"But you do too," I murmured, when I finally regained my breath.
"What?" he asked, not bothering to move one inch.
"I said you do too. Need this."
That at least got a reaction. Just not exactly the one I'd counted on. The normally so impeccably dressed and almost always composed Draco Malfoy raised himself up to his elbows, shaking me by the shoulders so that my head bumped into the table again and again.
Strange, a distant part of me noted. Strange, because, while being a bastard, he always lets his cronies do the dirty work. And it was true. I'd never really seen him use any form of direct violence in the past few years, other than with me since he'd found me in the library for the first time.
"Admit it, Malfoy," I said, chuckling, when he finally stopped. "You need me as much as I do you. Or perhaps not me, but someone who takes your bullshit."
"If I wanted someone to 'take my bullshit', I'd have ever bloody thing that wears a skirt in my own house at my feet at my every back and whim," he snapped defensively.
"But they wouldn't be doing it willingly, now would they?" I countered, and when he didn't answer, I knew that I was right.
"And it gets you incredibly hot that you can do as you please with me, doesn't it," I probed further, while shoving him off of me and standing next to the table on wobbly legs.
I couldn't believe it. I had actually rendered the great Draco Malfoy speechless.
"But what about you?" he drawled, having found his composure again. "Ginny Weasley, boring little Gryffindor wants the big bad wolf Draco Malfoy to devour her with hair and bones and everything. What would your brother say?"
"My brother does not concern you, Malfoy," I snapped, turning away from him to gather my clothes.
"How come you want to be hurt Weasley? Aren't you aware that it's sick that only pain turns you on?"
That got my attention again. "I. Am. Not. Sick," I spat, glaring at him.
"Prove me wrong, then," he said, smirking, while leaning against the table.
I snorted. "How so?" When he lifted an eyebrow and walked towards me slowly, one hand outstretched, I knew I had made a mistake. What was going to do? Was he going to perform some kind of cruciatus curse on me to make me admit that he was right? Was he right? Was he going to …-
….take my hand and lead me over to the sofa, sitting me down?
Yes.
I blinked, vaguely aware that I seemed to be doing this a lot tonight. What now?
"Now, Weasley, I am going to show you what a normal girl would like to be fucked like." That was the last he said before pressing my shoulders down gently so that I was lying on my back before crawling on to me. The situation seemed so strange and unreal that I decided to wait and see what he would do.
And so I lay back and let him suckle on my neck lightly, making his way down to the breast he'd manhandled not 24 hours ago, leaving a wet trail over my neck and chest behind.
It certainly felt nice enough, in an odd sort of way. This couldn't be Draco Malfoy touching me like that, could it? And this couldn't be me, letting him? But I was curious, and so I didn't stop him, even though this was probably wrong on an entirely different level than anything we'd done before.
To me, there were two kinds of sex. One was something that transpired between two people who cared for each other deeply, and the other was for releasing tension from your life that you could not get rid of in any other way.
What we had done until now was the latter. Somehow his soft caresses spelled the former to me, but that was probably because I had a tendency to paint the world in black and white, and thought that stress had to hurt while love had to be gentle. In retrospect I can say that it took me entirely too long to realize that it could very well be the other way round too, but that shall be kept for later.
Then and there I let myself go in the unexpected but not unpleasant sensations of his touch, actually leaning into his mouth as it suckled on my nipple lightly, teasing it with feather light touches. And, surprising both of us, I moaned as I arched my back once more, not enough to make him stop, though, which was fine with me, as I wanted him to continue, assuring this by fisting my hands in his hair in order to keep him right where he was.
But he brushed my hand away, irritably, after a short while, and stopped working his wonders on my body, which caused me to give him a pouty sigh.
"Fine, point proven," he said in clipped tones before clambering off me and getting dressed with jerky motions while I lay on the sofa, speechless.
I could see how turned on he was, for God's sake, I could see him wince when he had to prison his bulging erection in his underwear and then his trousers, but he left me like that, without a backwards glance, sweaty, confused and horny as hell.
It took me half an hour to repair my clothes and dress, and even longer to find back to Gryffindor tower.
Something very weird was happening with my life, I reckoned while trudging through the dark corridors, something very weird that was just beyond my grasp of comprehension.
When I entered the Common Room I was very surprised to see the form of my brother crumpled on a sofa in front of the fire, his head resting on his knees, his arms dangling down on the outside of his calves. He did not look up when I entered the room, but when I sat down next to him, I could see that his eyes were open.
I gently lay my head on his back, and closed my eyes, glad that he didn't make a move to stop me or shrug me off like he'd done this morning.
We must have fallen asleep at some point, as that was the exact same position that a couple of very surprised second years found us in the next morning.