A/N: Well, this is a shorter chapter, but it's here! Thanks for all the reviews. And for everyone who keeps mentioning Stockholm Syndrome, that is pretty much what Ginny has. Also, she seems to be getting some symptoms of Anxiety Attacks. One of the reasons this is shorter than usual, is because I'm finishing up betaing Wynter Grace's last few chapters of No Ordinary Love. You're gonna love them!
CHAPTER 8 Prisoner Forgotten
Ginny paced the room until she could see the sun rising outside the window. She was exhausted and felt dirty, refusing to get in the bed and afraid to sleep. Her dream still burned her mind, causing her to involuntarily shudder with a perverted mix of disgust and desire.
She debated on using the small attached bathroom to shower, but there were no towels, and so finally, she lay down on the floor, drew her knees to her chest and fell into an uneasy sleep.
When she awoke, there was a breakfast tray, with a pot of tea, still steaming. She devoured the food hungrily, and then decided to shower despite the lack of towel, and after that, set to work pacing the room again.
The sun had nearly set when there was a pop and Sully appeared with a dinner tray. "Thank you," Ginny said with wide eyes.
Sully placed the tray on the table and didn't even look at her.
The next day was exactly the same, and Ginny began to feel a thick aching in her chest, as if she had eaten food that wouldn't go down. The room felt hot and suffocating, and it was hard to get a clear breath. She stayed huddled in the chair that day, gripping her chest and willing herself not to faint. "You are fine," she chanted. "You are not dying."
"He told you not to speak to me, didn't he?" Ginny asked Sully when she brought her dinner.
Sully simply popped away without a word.
The next day Ginny felt her will beginning to bend. Her thoughts were a continual mix of memories and worries about her family, the dream she'd had, and what Draco was doing. There was absolutely nothing to do except think, and avoiding thinking was the only thing that had kept her sane in the near year she had been at the Manor.
She didn't even attempt to talk to Sully when she came, didn't attempt to cover her nudeness, and only picked at her food.
The fourth day, tears began to fall and time began to evaporate. She hated the solitude more than anything. She hated the absolute silence and emptiness that seeped from the room. And for reason's she couldn't explain, she missed Draco. She missed dinner with him, and talking to him, sharing wine and watching the Muggle telly. She missed looking at him, the way his clothes always fit most perfectly, the warmth and comfort of a body next to her when she slept, and yes, even the way they had shared kisses. She tried to use the time to convince herself that Draco deserved her hatred, but she couldn't. He was all she had now, and she needed him.
Her body was stiff and tense from sleeping on the floor, naked and cold. She tried using the pillow and blanket from the bed, but had woken with a start in the middle of dreaming that Draco was easing himself in and out of her.
The fifth day, when Sully arrived with dinner, Ginny looked at her and said, "Please, I know he told you not to talk to me, but will you tell him to come here?"
There was no answer.
Ginny tried again the following night, begging and pleading, until Sully walked over to the Chinese Wedding bed and gently patted it.
"He wants me to sleep there?" Ginny asked, her voice trembling.
Sully was gone without a reply.
That night, when Ginny could keep her eyes open no longer, she gingerly eased down on the bed and instantly fell asleep.
She is on her hands and knees, and Draco has entered her from behind. His arms are wrapped around her waist, cupping her breasts with his palms, and he is balanced on her back as he thrusts into her. Her knees ache, but she can feel him as he slides in and out, his cock gliding back and forth over her sweet spot, drawing moans and gasps from her lips, and she has never felt so much like she is one with someone else. She presses against him, giving him deeper access, until she comes, painfully hard and feels him explode inside of her, collapsing on top of her as she falls into the pillows. When he finally rolls off of her, she pushes herself back up to her knees and crawls down his body. She lowers her face and draws her tongue across his cock, wanting it to grow hard again just for her, and wanting to see how they taste together.
It's only moments before he is full and erect again. He flips her onto her back and then places his knees on either side of her face. With one hand in her hair, he pounds at her mouth. She curls her arms around his strong thighs and grips him, encouraging him to come, and come hard.
When he is spent, it is her turn, and she kneels above his face, quaking as he draws his tongue through her folds again and again, making her dizzy with desire. She thinks she may have exploded as she climaxes, the bone jarring tremors long and painfully hard.
When she woke, she was sore and sticky. She sat that day, against the wall, her knees drawn to her chest. When Sully came, she watched her with large eyes, but neither spoke. Draco didn't come.
She slept in the bed again, vivid dreams filling her body, and still he didn't come.
"Please Sully," Ginny sobbed, not caring enough to hide her tears or her body any longer. "Please ask him to come here."
She thought she might be losing her mind. If she hadn't been able to see the sunlight, she would have had no concept of time. She couldn't think straight; her thoughts were a jumbled mix of family and death and Draco and sex. She only remembered to bathe because there was nothing else she could do. The air in the room, she was sure, had become thick and heavy, trying to suffocate her in her sleep.
She spent hours leaning into the shut door, begging and pleading for Draco. At times, she thought she could hear him in the hall, but no one came.
She continued to sleep in the bed and wake with lucid dreams heavy on her mind. Sully didn't speak to her, but Ginny was sure she gave her a sympathetic look or two.
Finally, Ginny sat by the door and called for him, over and over, until her throat was raw and she could barely speak. "Please Draco, I'm sorry. Please let me out! I'll never do it again, never! Please."
She cried and cried, begging Draco and Merlin and her mum and anyone who might hear her.
"Please! I'll be good."
Memories came back to her, unwelcome and unbidden. She recalled when she was only five or six, a summer when all her brothers were home. They had been playing hide and go seek, one of the few games they let Ginny play with them, and she found the perfect hiding spot, in a linen closet on the third floor. She waited for ages, for someone to find her, and when no one did, the excitement wore off. She tried to let herself out of the closet, only to find that the door was stuck. Looking back, it had probably only been minutes, but it felt like she had banged for hours before her mum came scurrying to let her out. Her brothers had given up on the game and gone to play Quidditch in the field.
Until now, she'd never felt more alone. Her mum had held her as she cried - cried because she'd been forgotten, because she had gotten stuck, and because she wasn't included in the games. It was always her mum who held her. "Mummy's little girl," she would say.
As the sunlight began to fade outside her room, she began to give up hope.
Maybe Draco had forgotten her. Maybe he was out with his client again, treating her to dinner and wine, and then perhaps going back to her flat for a good shag.
Ginny wondered what she looked like. She was quite sure that the client didn't have uncontrollable red hair that should have been curly, or hipbones that protruded just a little too much, or breasts that were barely large enough to be considered a handful, or plain brown eyes. No, she was probably curvy and lovely, with straight blond hair and cool blue or green eyes and perfect teeth. She was, most likely, from a well known pure blood family, no doubt with money.
"Please," she shouted again. "Draco, I need you! Please."
Her hope disappeared with the setting of the sun, and Ginny wondered if he had simply forgotten all about her, and she would remain here until she died.
She crawled away from the door, sobbing, and climbed into the bed, too exhausted to care what dreams might come.
Then the door opened, and he stood there, the backlight from the hall giving him an eerie aura.
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