Chapter 13 - Choke
Keeping her head down, Ginny shuffled along the corridor. She hoped that no one would approach her, speak to her, even notice her. She had spent the last few days latched onto Dean. It was just easier that way. No, he did not make her forget about Draco and at times, she thought he only reminded her more of him. Because she would think of how dark Dean's skin was in comparison to Draco's almost translucent sheen, how coarse and rough his hair felt in fingers used to long silky strands of silver-blonde. And then the kisses. Sloppy, unexciting, mere fumblings. Nothing like the intense, breath-taking kisses of an experienced Slytherin. And Ginny would close her eyes tight - no, had to - in order to keep her tears from trekking rivulets down her cheeks.
As she thought of this, she was suddenly propelled into a little-used alcove and shoved up against the wall, though she wasn't aware that her assailant had thrown a hand behind her head to cushion her from any real harm. Even before she could get her bearings straight or see for that matter (her thick red hair was obscuring her vision), she knew it was Draco. She knew it was him even though he had never gripped her wrist with such painful possession before. She knew it was him even though he had never bit her hard enough to taste blood before. But blood she did taste as he brought his teeth down on her lips.
She never thought of resisting him but opened her mouth under his demanding kiss. He pushed himself flush against her while she reached up with her one free hand to tangle it in his ridiculously soft hair. She gasped into his mouth when one cold hand pushed itself under her jumper. She didn't think there had been room between her and the rough stones of the wall behind her but she managed to arch into him. His explorations were more determined, harsher than she ever recalled. Her eyes popped open when his hand traveled down or rather, up her skirt. She resisted him then but with a feeble half-push that only made him dig his short nails into the wrist he was still holding.
Finally, he pulled back enough to take in short rasping breathes. "Why?" he asked harshly, his teeth scraping the skin of her ear.
"What?" she gasped, her mind still reeling from the assault.
"I want to know...how-you-could-do-this-to-me," he said slowly and deliberately. He itched to read her mind but was afraid of seeing the images he felt he would surely find. Her with Dean. Her perhaps with Harry or a host of other Gryffindor boys. Maybe…maybe she didn't stop there. Maybe she worked her way through other houses. Ravenclaw. Hufflepuff. Slytherin. "Tell me, Weasley, have you become the Gryffindor whore?"
His words cut through her passion-drugged mind, filling her pained heart with rage. "Let go of me!" she screamed, trying to pull her wrists from his fast grip. "I'm done with you now! I'm with Dean. I mean, it was fun and all, but really, you became negligent and a bit…boring," she finished, choking on the last word.
Draco instantly dropped her hands, her touch literally burning his skin. He stepped back and stared at her, his mind still not comprehending everything that had happened in the past few days and certainly not comprehending what was occurring now. He didn't understand why her eyes were bright with tears. She shouldn't be the one crying. He was the one who should swimming in a pool of his own tears.
He had come to her for an explanation, to scream at her, to laugh at her poorly contrived joke. But now, he didn't want to know anything. Not anymore. Though they were not touching, it seemed as though she had pressed her small fingers against his windpipe and he was slowly losing consciousness.
Turning on his heel, he left her by herself.