Broken, Beaten, and Sweetly Burning by LiquidVamp

Rating: NC17
Genres: Angst, Drama
Relationships: Draco & Ginny
Book: Draco & Ginny, Books 1 - 6
Published: 31/05/2007
Last Updated: 31/05/2007
Status: Completed

One-Shot! Completed! Everything isn't always as it seems for Ginny. Mild mannered shy
Weasley daughter to most but what she does after dark is another world entirely.




1. Broken, Beaten, and Sweetly Burning
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**Broken, Beaten, and Sweetly Burning**

**A/N:** *My muse is simple girl. All she likes are plot bunnies and reviews. So be kind to
Maggie and feed her review cookies please.* **Big thanks to my beta Lbandoly for her hard
work.**

*No copyright infringement intended. All characters are the property of JKR, Scholastic, and
any number of other companies with more money than I've ever dreamed of seeing. I didn't
make any money off of this, so please don't sue.*

**~ DG DG DG DG DG DG DG ~**

She lay naked on her stomach on top of the room's dingy motel comforter, arms flung out to
her sides, one leg curled up to her hip and the other hanging off the side of the bed. Her back was
crisscrossed with bleeding swollen whelps, her legs much the same. The back of her neck and
shoulders bruised and marred with countless obvious bite marks. The insides of her thighs were
still wet with his spunk and her own cum and blood.

Had anyone stumbled across her prone form they would have thought her the victim of some heinous
crime of debasement, but she wasn't. She was far from a victim; she was a willing and most
definitely well paid participant.

The wonderful burning sting that settled into her used body filled her with a sense of calming
peace, a bliss only found after encounters such as this one. Two small vials of healing and pain
relief potions sat waiting on the rickety bedside table waiting for the moment when the blissful
ache turned to unbearable pain. He always left them, she never took them.

If anyone were to ask why she did this, why she let him and countless muggles abuse and debase
her she wouldn't know what to tell them. Thankfully no one knew outside of the ones that did
this to her so they couldn't ask.

If she had to ask herself why she did this, she would first lie to herself. She did it for the
money. The money was fantastic. All but one of her clients was muggle. Her one wizard well, he
always paid what her time and her body was worth. He could afford it, so why question why he came
to her instead of one of the cheaper slags in Knockturn. A week of different nights in different
beds or just one in his would cover a full semester's tuition to the University for Magical
Learning and Mage Training in Ireland.

In fact that had been just how it had started. The youngest of seven children her parents
hadn't had the money to pay her way through magical or muggle university so she had been forced
to get a job to pay as much of the costs as she could. She had taken a job in the magical community
that operated around the university but it hadn't paid enough to cover more than a couple meals
per week after her weekly payment to the university's deferred payment office.

Realizing that her job just wasn't cutting it she had sought employment in the muggle world.
The exchange rate between muggle and wizarding money alone had proved to be a very substantial help
at first. But it seemed the more money she made, the more the university requested of her. Still
her grades remained strong and steady. She didn't allow the work to sidetrack the whole purpose
of having the job. She worked hard, studied hard, and never played.

The first two years went by with the same monotonous routine. Work, class, work, eat, work,
study until the wee hours of the morn, sleep, wake and repeat. She lived off of black coffee and
pepper-up potions to stay awake and calming draughts to keep her frayed nerves steady. And she
didn't even deny that from time to time she had forced whit sharpening potions down her own
throat even thought she thought them to be the very essence of cheating.

She didn't rightly remember how she had found herself in that part of muggle London that
night. She had been in Diagon Alley visiting her brothers at their shop for the holiday. She had
left with the intent of picking up a present for her father. She had scrimped and saved and gone
without a meal or three in order to afford Christmas presents for her family and she was determined
that each one would make their receiver smile. She had completed everyone's but her
father's. She had wandered through every store in Diagon that seemed like it might have
something to suit him without as much as a drop of luck. She had entered muggle London from the
Leaky Caldron and had spent hours walking through every shop she could find. Bound and determined
to find something that would bring a smile to her father's lips come Christmas morning.

Hours past and the stores had all closed when she realized she had no clue where she was.
Somewhere along the way she had lost track of what direction she was going and had just simply
walked. She had found herself in a less than desirable looking neighborhood that left her feeling
more than a little uncomfortable. There were muggles everywhere so she couldn't just slip in an
alley and apparate away. Without knowing where she was she had no clue where the nearest safe
apparation point even was.

A muggle girl in a sweater too tight for her, a skirt short enough the rounding of her arse
peaked out from underneath and four inch stiletto heeled boots came up to her as she stood one the
corner looking as lost as a person could ever possibly look. “You look lost pet.”

Ginny tried to shake the strangely dressed muggle away. “No. I'm fine.”

“Look girly you don't have to act that way. I won't hurt you. But if you're lost I
know someone who can get you where you need to go.”

“No thanks, really I'm fine.”

“You are, are you? Don't look like it to me. Looks like the little lamb got turned off in
the wrong direction and is now standing in the middle of the briar patch.”

Ginny snapped. “I am not some little lost lamb thank you very much. Now if you can point me in
the direction of the nearest telly phone I'll be on my way.”

“Suit yourself honey. But you really shouldn't lie to yourself like that. You are the little
lamb.” The woman pointed down the block to the illuminated red phone booth.”

Ginny had all but run to the safely of the phone booth. She only knew one phone number, the one
to her work back at university. She tried to dial it only to hear a woman come on telling her to
insert more money or dial three to charge the number to a credit card, neither of which she
had.

She had bitten her tongue and gone back to the strange muggle woman. Two hours later a motherly
looking woman had taken her into her house and told her she would help Ginny if Ginny would be
willing to do something for her in exchange.

That's how little Ginny Weasley became a whore. Not just any whore. No Ginny had, since the
very tender age of eleven, liked pain. She didn't know if it was something she'd always had
in her or if it was Tom's own love for pain that had superimposed it self onto her. Either way
she still loved it.

The matron of the house informed her she would work anywhere, anytime, with any person she felt
comfortable so long as Ginny made sure the house got its cut of what she earned. The house could
arrange companions or she could seek her own. The woman had arranged a taxi back to the Leaky
Caldron and with it Ginny had sold her soul.

A week later she was back in London in the same rundown ramshackle of a motel turned whore
house. She had started off small. A spanking here, a smack there, all part of the pay and fuck
deal.

Now four years and a spells mistress degree later she was still doing it. Only now it wasn't
just a spanking and a fuck. It was a beating, a fuck, a bit more of a beating, and if she was
really lucky it would be him doing it.

She didn't know how he found her or found out what she did to pay her bills. But he had and
it had turned into a beautiful non-relationship. He visited her often at first, nearly weekly.
Paying double what most of her clients paid. He had taken it easier on her at first. Much like the
others with their smacks here and spankings there, but as time went on the visits came further and
further apart and the pain more intense. She had loved it. She still loved it.

She longed for the now rare nights when it would be blond hair and grey eyes pouring years of
frustrations into her. She longed for the nights when he would call upon her to meet him in some
rundown hellhole so he could fuck her and draw her blood at the end of a whip or the tip of a blade
or by any one of a dozen other creative ways he had for making her bleed.

What she never could understand was how Draco could do those things to her but had refused
become a Deatheater when they were younger. How could a man that obviously loved to inflict the
pain he did on her not have joined the group that would have allowed him to do so at will? She had
never asked him. She never would. She suspected that she wouldn't ever see him again after
tonight.

He had never crossed the line he had tonight. He had fucked her in every orifice, had drawn her
blood, he had done everything he could do to her over the past three years but tonight he had done
the one thing she didn't think he had ever done before or would ever do again. He had admitted
he had feelings for her.

Yep, her life as a whore was officially over. Without him bringing the pain, it just didn't
feel as vibrant. It hadn't in a very long time. The blood wasn't as red at someone
else's hands, the pain not nearly as strong, and the bruises not nearly as dark. Without him
dealing the punishments she couldn't tolerate the pain.

She grabbed the vials from the bedside table and tossed them at the wall, giving a satisfied
smile when she heard them crash against the wall as they shattered. She had never taken the potions
before and she certainly wouldn't be taking them this night. She wanted every moment of the
pain, the burn, the ache to remain with her as long as possible.

Yet if she had to admit to herself why she had spent four years doing this, when she could have
left it after a mere year she would have had to admit that she did it to feel him. To feel him
buried balls deep in her mouth, her arse or her wet snatch. She had discovered after his first
touch that she was addicted to the very man that she had been raised to hate.

Now he had admitted the same about her and it would all be over. He wouldn't return and no
one else would satisfy the boiling need that he inspired at her very core. So after four years and
several hundreds of thousands of galleons earned she would turn in her final pay to the house
matron and would go on with life pretending she didn't love the man that had brought her so
much delicious pain.

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