A Lesson in Lust

Sydney Lynne Draco/Ginny, Ginny/Draco Normal Sidney Wang 4 3271 2003-08-21T04:23:00Z 2003-08-22T21:53:00Z 1 5200 29646 247 69 34777 10.2625 Clean Clean MicrosoftInternetExplorer4

A Lesson in Lust

Pairings: Draco/Ginny, mention of Harry/Hermione and Harry/Ron

Rating: NC-17

Category: Romance/Angst

Summary: Ginny Weasley has battled her latent attraction towards Draco Malfoy for quite a while. Can Draco teach her a lesson that will force her to acknowledge her feelings for him at last? A triumvirate RPG fanfic.

Author’s Notes: This story is derived from the Harry Potter Livejournal RPG, triumvirate (http://www.livejournal.com/community/triumvirate), in which Draco and Ginny shared an exquisite unresolved sexual tension. All references that are not strictly canon belong to the triumvirate-verse, and this particular setup refers to a lost plotline that involves Draco kissing Lavender in front of Ginny, causing Ginny to run off near tears. Dedicated to my fellow D/G supporters, Athena, Adrienne, and Sarea. Thanks to Sarea Okelani for the beta read.

*~*~*

Stupid, stupid, stupid. Why am I being so stupid? Ginny Weasley, dressed in her worn blue-striped pyjamas in the middle of the day, pounded her fists into the unfortunate pillow lying on her bed before burying her tear-streaked face into it.

He’s not even your boyfriend, Ginny, she thought fiercely to herself. Just a stupid git. A horrible, loathsome Malfoy at that. So why are you crying over him? If he wants to kiss someone else, it’s not YOUR problem, Ginny Weasley, it’s Parkinson’s.

She had thought that she couldn’t feel any more betrayed than when she had learned about Harry and Hermione. Harry whom she had believed was hers, and Hermione whom she had believed was her best girl friend. Learning about their romance had been like a punch in the stomach, but this, somehow, was still worse. Her lungs seemed to have collapsed upon themselves with a suffocating tightness, and she would have sworn they were no longer working if not for the intermittent sobs that choked out.

And Lavender. Oh, she had no right to be mad at Lav. Lavender was just doing what they’d both agreed to do, and Draco—no, Malfoy—had just happened by when it was Lavender’s turn to snog a boy.

But why did she have to enjoy it so much? Why did HE have to enjoy it so much? A tiny little part of her crumpled to think that Draco Malfoy could kiss anyone and relish the taste, because she had wanted to believe—oh she was ashamed to admit it to herself now—wanted to believe that she was special to him. Special enough to be the only person who could make the cold, arrogant Malfoy burn like the hottest of bonfires when she was locked in his embrace.

Apparently, that wasn’t the case.

“Ginny, open up!” Even muffled in her pillow, she could hear the pounding on the door of the Gryffindor sixth-year girls’ dorms. The voice was unquestionably Lavender’s. “Oh, Ginny, I—I just lost track of what was happening, I swear I didn’t mean anything by it. And I didn’t think you’d be so upset—”

“I’M NOT UPSET!” Ginny yelled defensively, pulling her head up in a snap. Suddenly weary with exhaustion, she finished, “Just leave me alone, Lav, I don’t feel very well.”

There was a momentary silence on the other side of the door before Lavender’s hesitant voice came through again. “All right then,” said her friend awkwardly, “but if you want to talk, Gin, my door is always open.”

Ginny listened to the footsteps of her friend fade away before collapsing back to the bedding again. Lav means well. It’s not her fault that Malfoy’s such a—a male slut, she tried to convince herself, but she still couldn’t stem the anger that surged through her at the thought of her friend with her lips on Draco Malfoy. An insidious little voice whispered, “She KNEW you were attracted to him, Ginny, and didn’t think of you for a second when she was snogging him. She’s just as bad as Hermione.”

No, no, no, she fought the jeer, Malfoy’s nothing to me, I have no right to him, and I don’t care what he does. But the words would not placate the bitter voice in her mind.

Oh, but you do care. You thought that you mattered to Draco Malfoy, the way you never mattered to Harry Potter. And the way you never really mattered to Tom Riddle. You wanted to believe that Malfoy actually thought you were special, didn’t you? But he was just using you, too, and he tricked you into caring about him. With what? A broomstick polishing kit? You stupid, stupid little girl. You’ve learned nothing since you were eleven. Nothing.

Memories of the terrible nightmare of a few nights before flashed before her eyes unbidden. Dream Harry, looking at her with cool disdain, then turning to dream Draco and saying, “I didn’t want her. You know you don’t, either.”

“Alohomora!” The door swung open and creaked loudly.

“Lav! I told you I want to be left alone!” Ginny yelled, refusing to look up.

“I’m sorely disappointed, Weasley, that you could possibly confuse my obviously masculine and aristocratic voice with that of a common Gryffindor girl,” came the sarcastic response.

Ginny whipped her head around instantly, forgetting for the moment about her humiliating nightmare. “Malfoy! How did you get in here?”

The black-and-silver clad figure strode towards her, and she could see him rolling his wintry grey eyes at the ceiling. “I followed Brown into Gryffindor, and let’s just say that I’ve got experience in getting past wards to girls’ dormitories.”

“Argh,” said Ginny. “I did not need to know that. Keep your business with Parkinson and the myriad of other girls you cheat on her with to yourself, Malfoy.”

“How do you know that they’re all girls?” Draco replied, a hint of amusement evident in his voice as he sidled over to sit on her bed. Reflexively, Ginny moved over to accommodate him, though she glared at him for the intrusion.

“Your love life doesn’t concern me,” she said through gritted teeth, refusing to look at him.

Draco cast a sidelong glance at her as he bounced on her bedsprings. “These Hogwarts beds are made out of lousy material; you ought to request the springs be replaced. Of course I had my father replace the entire bed with something that does not give me a crick in the neck every night,” he remarked casually. He reached to lift her chin up so that she was forced to look at him. His tone softened to a predatory purr when he spoke again. “Why did you run off, little Weasley? I was hoping that I’d have my turn with you too.”

Do NOT think about how delicate his fingers are, touching your skin, she commanded herself. It’s awfully effeminate for a boy to have such nice hands, even if he was born with a silver spoon in his mouth. “I thought you’d like to have some private time, Malfoy, since you were so obviously busy,” she spat, with more vehemence than she had intended.

An amused expression flitted across his fine features. “Jealous, are we?” he drawled. “I thought you were far too much of a good girl to concern yourself with the actions of someone else’s boyfriend.”

Ginny’s eyes flashed like brown lightning as she pressed her nose up against Draco’s in anger. “For the last time, Malfoy, I am NOT jealous!”

Nonchalantly, Draco shrugged his shoulders, then leaned in so that his warm breath caused every strand of hair on her neck to stand up in anticipation. Ginny shivered. She hadn’t realised how close his lips were until he lowered his mouth to her nape and began to suckle. “Whatever…you…say…Ginny…” he murmured between slow, open-mouthed kisses.

Frenzied thoughts raced through Ginny’s head furiously. Push him away, Ginny, push him away! He’s just been snogging Lav! But somehow, the touch of Draco’s lips on her skin had sedated her so that she could do nothing but close her eyes, lifting her chin when he prodded it with his tongue to allow access to every inch of her quivering skin. She hardly noticed when he pressed her back into her tear-soaked pillow. Sighing into his kisses, Ginny looped her arms around the span of his back, unconsciously stroking the silky material of his robes as she planted absent-minded kisses all along the fine line that separated his ash-blond hair from his alabaster skin.

“You’ve been crying. Poor, poor little Ginny. Abused by Tom, ignored by Harry,” Draco commented lazily as he mauled her bare shoulder, nipping with at it with his teeth and tongue. “But don’t worry. Draco’s going to make it all better now.” His long, delicate fingers reached inside the flimsy material of her bra to lightly stroke the underside of her breasts. Ginny froze. When had he unbuttoned her blouse? And that—that thing poking into the crook of her right thigh and torso was most definitely not the right size or shape to be his wand.

Snapping her eyes open abruptly, Ginny shoved Draco off so hard that he tumbled right off of her bed and hit the floor hard. “Get out!” she yelled, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand in disgust. How could she have let herself fall under his phoney Slytherin charm again? She had just seen him do the same thing to Lav! Well, perhaps not quite the same thing, as Lavender had most decidedly still been dressed at the time.

“Ow! You bitch!” Draco roared, writhing on the floor and clutching his right elbow. “You’re going to have to explain to my father why you broke the arm of his sole heir. He’s going to sue you for all the Galleons your family has. Oh wait, you don’t have any,” he spat venomously. “We’ll just have to repossess that pig farm you call a house.”

“Oh shut up already, Malfoy,” Ginny snapped, scrambling to her feet to Draco’s side. “You’re not going to tell your father, because then you’d have to explain to him that you were trying to snog a lowly Weasley when it happened.” She knelt down by him onto the carpeted floor, pushing back the wave of concern that had assaulted her and assuming a brisk, businesslike manner. “Let me see your arm, you slimy git.”

Grumbling, Draco held out his right arm, and Ginny pushed up the loose material of his robes, trying to roll up Draco’s shirt sleeve to examine the injured arm with little success. “What are your shirts, made out of? Cardboard?”

“Taffeta,” Draco replied, clearly annoyed. “Trust a Weasley not to recognize high-quality material. Are you going to help me or not?”

The enmity she had directed at him mere moments ago vanished as she watched him wince in pain. “All right,” she bit her lip, “but you need to, uh—” she felt an unwanted heat flush up her cheeks, “take off your shirt.”

Draco scowled. “Seeing how my arm is broken thanks to you, Weasley, I think you’ll have to take care of that for me.”

A nasty retort rose to the tip of her tongue, but concern for Draco’s condition won out; she refrained from saying anything, determinedly setting herself on removing the barriers of fabric from his wounded arm. Although she shed his robes with little trouble, her nervous fingers fumbled with the buttons of his shirt. Glancing up, she could see Draco bristling at her clumsiness while she helped him out of his shirt, gingerly holding his injured arm so as not to move it excessively.

Oh, his chest is very nice, Ginny couldn’t help thinking. So toned and smooth—Argh. Don’t think about it, Ginny. You have a job to do.

Carefully avoiding eye contact with Draco so that he wouldn’t be able to see her embarrassment at sitting on the floor with him half-dressed, she bent over his elbow to examine the wound. “I think it’s just a bruise, but maybe you ought to go to Madame Pomfrey, in case.”

“If it’s not broken,” he said, moving suddenly to pin her wrists to the floor with surprising agility, “then I can think of something better to do with my time.” His face was once again inches from hers.

Ginny’s jaw dropped open in shock as she struggled to free herself from his iron-like grip. “You tricked me! You’re not even hurt!”

Draco narrowed his eyes and sneered at her, “I am hurt, Weasley, you said so yourself. But I’m not about to let a little scrape get in the way of what I want.”

“What you want, Malfoy,” Ginny clenched her jaw in defiance, “is called rape. And you wouldn’t want daddy dearest to have to bail you out of Azkaban for that would you? Not that he could, seeing how he’ll be in there himself! Ha!”

Draco loosened his grip on her slightly, “Why are you doing this? We both want the same thing, Weasley.” Seeing her shake her head vehemently, Draco continued before she could get a word in, “Don’t deny it. I’ve seen you blush at my name. And I’ve kissed you, Ginny, and oh how you kissed me back. You want me just as much as I want you. You can’t deny it.”

A sudden image of Draco kissing Lavender floated into her brain, and Ginny felt another lump forming in her throat. “You kiss bloody everybody, Malfoy,” she choked out, willing herself not to cry in front of him.

“Oh no, I’m afraid you’ve gotten me confused with your precious Harry Potter. Were you saving yourself for him all this time?” He chuckled at the sight of her flushed cheeks. “So you are an innocent. Interesting. Sorry to break it to you, but Potter’s far too busy shagging your brother to ever pay any attention to you.”

Red-hot rage rushed through Ginny’s blood. “He is not my precious Harry Potter, and you’re a slanderous pervert! Ron and Harry are best friends! But I suppose you would never understand what that means, seeing how your only company is a pair of goons who can’t even speak proper English.”

“Poor, sweet, innocent Ginny,” Draco murmured, pressing his bare chest against her. Ginny trembled from the heat radiating off his skin, separated from hers by only the slightest bit of fabric. She pushed her back against the foot of the bed, lest Draco be able to sense how hard her nipples were getting from his close proximity. “I told you the truth about Granger and Potter. Why would I lie to you now? Go ask your precious brother, won’t you? Do you really think it’s a coincidence that both he and Potter lost points for sneaking off school grounds?” he taunted.

“Shut up!” she screamed, quivering with fury now. Draco rambled on as if he had not heard her, suggesting lewd acts involving her brother and ex-boyfriend that made Ginny physically sick. She did the only thing that she could think of to stop the awful words tumbling out of his mouth: She savagely attacked him with her only weapon.

Within seconds Ginny could taste coppery blood trickling into her mouth, and all thoughts of Ron and Harry fled her mind. She had bitten Draco’s lower lip quite forcefully and surprised him into letting go of her wrists. Before she had a chance to react, however, he had cupped her bottom and lifted her back onto the bed. His tongue responded eagerly to spar with hers, and the two of them engaged in a fierce battle of biting and scratching. All she could think of was hurting him as badly as he had hurt her, clawing at his naked flesh so fiercely that she doubted any elementary healing charms would heal them without scars. How wonderful it would be to leave bruises and cuts all over his body and have Pansy Parkinson find them the next day. Vindictiveness shot through her veins as she raked her long fingernails up the length of his spine, eliciting gasps of pain from the man who now lay on top of her.

“You’ll pay for that, Weasley,” he hissed while lowering his mouth to her jugular. “One bite right now and I could kill you.”

Exercising the agility she had learned from Mandy Brocklehurst’s self-defence class, Ginny easily flipped Draco over onto his back and straddled him, showering her tousled red hair over him. “You could,” she agreed, “but then you wouldn’t get what you want now, would you?” she challenged, a mixture of hatred and lust burning in her golden brown eyes.

Draco’s eyes narrowed with something akin to intense dislike and simply replied, “You’re right”—then grasped her white cotton bra firmly with both hands and ripped it apart, causing Ginny to wince at the burn of the material against her skin.

“Fuck, Malfoy! What do think you’re doing?” she hissed.

Draco smiled a predatory smile. “Fuck sounds about right, Weasley-with-tits, and my, those are very nice tits indeed,” he whispered, balancing an orb of flesh in each hand. Ginny felt herself flush all over as Draco squeezed and twisted experimentally, smirking at her all the while. Before she could recover her senses and shove his hands away, he had moved to attack her left breast with his very sharp teeth.

Fire unlike any she had ever experienced snaked its way from the tips of her breasts to the triangle of her loins, and slick liquid gushed out to utterly soak her knickers and possibly even dampen her pyjama bottoms.

Merlin, help me stop him! Push him off now! Ginny thought desperately to herself even as she ran her fingers through strands of Draco’s sweat-mussed blond locks, cradling his head closer. Her entire body trembled as Draco pulled her down to him, his tongue tracing wet, circular patterns onto her rigid left nipple, and all the while he squeezed its twin with deft, clever fingers. Oh gods, if he doesn’t stop this soon I won’t even want him to stop anymore.

With supreme effort Ginny managed to moan out a few words, “Malfoy… this… is… crazy… Oooooh!” Any coherent thoughts she had spun away into a whirlpool of nothingness when Draco removed his fingers from her breast and navigated them down past her pyjama bottoms, then deeply into her folds. Fire…Fire…She could swear her belly had lit on fire, as flames of desire licked at her everywhere she turned.

“Your knickers are drenched,” he commented casually, stroking in and out of her while flexing his fingers. “Let me get rid of them for you.” In one smooth move, he arched up to grasp the waistband on both sides of her pyjamas and knickers, pulled them down and off her legs, then discarded them to the foot of the bed. Lying back onto the bedspread, he looked up at her and lazily licked the liquid on the tips of his freed hand. “So this is what Virginia Weasley tastes like,” he whispered, slowly tracing his tongue over his lower lip as if to savour her taste. Ginny whimpered. She was quite sure that she had never really understood the meaning of ‘erotic’ until this moment.

Without Draco’s caressing touches to distract her, Ginny slid off of him and gathered sheets to cover her nakedness, slapping his hand away when he tried to stop her. Instead of asking him to leave, which she had intended, the words that tumbled out in a very small voice were, “Why me?”

He laughed his infuriating laugh at her question, getting up to sit on his knees to face her with a smirk. “Oh, Virginia, if you’re good enough for Tom, then you’re good enough for me.”

“You’re disgusting, Malfoy. I never did anything like this with Tom Riddle. I was eleven, and he wasn’t real.”

“Maybe he wasn’t,” Draco agreed amicably. Gently, he grasped her wrist and led her hand away from the sheet it had been clutching. “But this,” he indicated, placing her palm inside his unzipped trousers and guiding her fingers around him, “is most definitely real.” Grinning, he leaned forward to place an oddly chaste kiss on her lips. “Go ahead,” he told her, “touch it.”

His warm flesh pulsated in her hand, and Ginny couldn’t resist running her fingertips along the length of him. He was larger than she had expected—not that she would admit to having ever imagined Draco Malfoy naked and aroused—and nearly the entire surface of her skin flushed with hot blood at the dangerous daydream of trying to fit him inside her. Draco’s eyes closed in bliss as she gingerly moved her hand up and down, and Ginny entirely forgot about her own nakedness as sheets fell away from her nude form. Fascinated as though she had encountered a rare and beautiful magical creature, Ginny inched towards Draco, finally sitting down on her knees opposite him to properly appreciate her own handiwork. A strange thrill ran through her bones to know that at that moment, she had power over the indomitable Draco Malfoy.

“I’ll ask you again, Malfoy,” she said coolly, relishing both the feel of him hard in her hand and the sight of him clearly at her mercy. “Why do you want this with me? Last time I checked,” she squeezed him hard at this, “you had a girlfriend.”

“She’s a…a…cold…fish,” he gasped, “You…you’re…what…I…I…want. Sexy…and…fi-fiery…and…bad…”

Ginny jerked her hand away at his last remark. “I’m not like you, Malfoy, I’m not evil. I’m not going to sleep with someone else’s boyfriend, and I’m especially not going to sleep with you.”

“Weasley,” he said, having recovered his composure slightly to wipe away the sweat on his brow with his wrist, “you can deny it all you want, but you know you liked that.” His eyes glittered at his next words like silver in the moonlight. “And I have so much more to teach you, Ginny.”

“Like I would want to learn anything from you,” she retorted, turning her face away from his.

“But you already have,” he pointed out reasonably. “You didn’t object to learning how to ride my broomstick before,” he taunted. “Believe me, Ginny; this ride will be far more pleasurable.”

“No,” she said stubbornly, clinging to her last vestiges of virtue. “It wouldn’t be right. We don’t even like each other!” She waved her hands in the air randomly, to try to find the right words. “I—I loathe you, and—Oh!” her eyes widened at the sudden awareness that Draco had shed his remaining garments and now knelt before her, naked.

He grabbed her around the waist and pulled her so close that all she could see were the black pupils of his intent grey eyes. “That’s where you’re wrong. I do like you. Very much.” Cupping her chin with one hand and winding his other arm around her back, he besieged her with long, drugging kisses. Ginny could think of no retaliation but to kiss him back, touching him everywhere that he touched her. She had long appreciated his arse, but to have her hands massaging the toned muscles...Oooh, and his firmly muscled thighs were very nice too; she had never been able to appreciate those properly until now, up close, with his heated flesh pressing against her, burning to join with hers. The small fire that had begun low in her belly became a full-scale conflagration, and the only man who could quench the fire was now inches away from doing so.

“Last chance,” Draco’s husky voice broke through Ginny’s stupor of sexual fervour. “Yes or no?” Say no and have some dignity! her brain screamed. But oh, how every nerve in her body shot to the surface of her skin, pleading for him to continue.

“Yes.” Her mind remotely floated to a time when she had trusted another Slytherin schoolboy and nearly lost her life, but the thought was just a shadow flitting across her memory, banished instantly by Draco’s delicious caresses.

“Good girl.” He kissed her with renewed intensity and grinned maliciously against her lips. “I’ll try to be gentle.” Snaking his arms tight around her, he lowered them both onto the bedspread. Carefully, he shifted to support his upper body on one elbow and gently guided her hand to him with his free arm. “Show me where you want me to be, Ginny,” he whispered, his voice two octaves lower than she remembered.

Despite her haze of lust, she somehow navigated him to her entrance, pumping him the entire time. Unable to resist rubbing his tip greedily over the soft spots that she had always been ashamed to touch herself, she shuddered with pleasure at the suggestive friction, barely managing to find the voice in the back of her throat, “Your turn.”

Draco smiled like a wizard who knew a wonderful secret and slowly eased himself into her moistness, and Ginny, even in the darkest, most forbidden corner of her mind could never have imagined the achy anticipation that cried out for Draco Malfoy to sheath himself fully inside her.

Suddenly, he jerked back, then slammed himself full force into her without any warning. White-hot pain scorched through her body as he tore through her flesh, and Ginny squinted, fighting back the tears that threatened to stream down her cheeks. “I thought you were going to be gentle, you bastard!” she yelled.

Pressing his lips lightly against the corners of her eyes, Draco kissed her lashes until she opened her eyelids again. “I said I’d try to be gentle. It hurts less when you’re not as tense, anyway,” he said coolly.

Ginny ignored the wetness on her face and glowered up at him. “Like you would know.”

Draco only laughed. “Too late to back out now, don’t you think?” he asked, adjusting his hips so that he was firmly entrenched inside her.

Merlin, did she hate him and his stupid derisive laughter. Angrily, Ginny dug her nails into his back, reopening one of the gashes she had left on him earlier and causing Draco’s expression to scrunch up in pain. “You better be good, Malfoy, or I’m hexing you to kingdom come the second you get out of this bed,” she threatened.

He scowled and seemed to have a scathing remark ready to fire, but thought better of it and simply grabbed his wand. “Contraceptos!” he commanded, pointing at her belly. An orange, prickly glow emanated from Ginny’s womb for a minute before fading. “Just wrap your legs around me and let’s get this over with,” he instructed, obviously irritated.

Ginny rolled her eyes. “Aren’t you the charmer?” she retorted, but compliantly dug her heels into the backs of his knees. Her body had adjusted to the size of him by now, and the sharp pain had dulled to a throbbing ache. She could not help but think of the strangeness that someone so completely wrong for her could feel so right—and good—buried inside her.

“Right then,” Draco said, sucking in a sharp breath as Ginny clenched her inner muscles with satisfaction, “I’m going to start moving. Join me when you feel so inclined.”

The scarlet and gold décor of her dormitory faded out of Ginny’s mind into oblivion when Draco began to slide himself along her inner walls. Her world narrowed down to just his taut muscles, flexing in effort for her, his elegant hands, stroking and caressing her, and his lovely mouth, seducing her with addicting kiss after addicting kiss. In the few moments when her slippery consciousness permitted her to observe him, she saw that the veneer of cold disdain had dropped away from Draco’s visage, replaced by a look of earnest concentration as he slammed his hips into hers again and again.

Sometimes their movements were excruciatingly slow, and other times they thrust towards one another with rapid fury. The ease with which they adapted to each other surprised her; their rhythm was so instinctive, like that of long-time lovers fuelled by the excitement of renewed ardour. Over and over, she lifted her hips in time for him to bore deeply where his silver strands met her red, and passion swept them both away in wave after wave of intense pleasure.

When Ginny next regained her senses, she realised with alarm that Draco had reversed their positions, and she now sat astride his waist. She blinked, watching Draco beneath her, still breathing harshly. “Um,” she hesitated, “what am I supposed to do now?”

Draco smirked as he teased the tip of one of her breasts between his right index finger and thumb. “I told you Ginny, I want you to learn how to ride my broomstick. I’m tired; it’s your turn to do the work.”

If flushing any redder than she already had been from their joint efforts were possible, Ginny would have blushed to an even deeper shade of red now. The blood in her cheeks boiled hot, spreading to her ears and neck. “You…I...I haven’t done this before, Malfoy; what…um…should I do?”

Looking exasperated, Draco pushed her up without disconnecting them. “Sit up on your knees,” he told her, “and move up and down on me.” Ginny slid around him uncertainly. “Ah, that’s it. And, ah, twist your hips a bit if you like. Yessss,” he moaned, “like that.”

She shook her head at him slightly, circling him clockwise, then counter-clockwise, “You’re so lazy, Malfoy. No wonder you hardly ever break a sweat.” Hm, she thought to herself, sliding him nearly completely out of her and rubbing her swollen clit against his tip, this is actually kind of nice.

“Ah, well, congratulate yourself then, Miss Weasley; I’m a sweaty mess now. Ahhh.” For the first time since they had joined together, she studied him very carefully. Indeed, his usual slicked-back hair was now a tangled mess—undoubtedly the product of her wild clutching not moments ago, and his pale ivory body shone with the sheen of sweat—at least, the parts that she had not bitten, clawed, and bruised purple.

She impaled herself quickly on him, causing Draco’s back to arch up and the bed to vibrate with reverberations. “Mm, yes, yes you are,” she agreed, twisting her way back up to his tip. “You should try the battered and bruised look out more often, Malfoy; it suits you.”

Draco made an unintelligible noise, and Ginny couldn’t tell whether he was insulted or just enjoying their contact. Using him again to stimulate her throbbing nub, she started to feel her muscles tighten. “Draco,” she whispered, “I think I’m going to come.”

“Oh for Merlin’s sake,” Draco muttered, grabbing her hips and shoving her back down onto him. Deftly, he flipped Ginny onto her back, first withdrawing fully, then ramming her straight into the headboard. The impact drove her over the edge instantaneously, and Ginny felt herself falling, falling, falling into the endless darkness.

“Weasley?” an impatient voice rang out above her. “Wake up.” A pair of familiar grey eyes peered down at her. “We have some unfinished business to attend to.”

Ginny flushed at the reminder of his yet-to-be-sated hardness within her. “Did I just pass out?”

“Yes,” Draco replied, kissing her, “and if you’re all right…”

Her head was still throbbing while the area between her thighs ached with soreness, and Ginny wondered briefly what Draco Malfoy would do if she refused him now. It would probably serve him right for being so arrogant. She feigned as if to pull back from him. “Actually, now that I’ve learned how to ride you properly…”

Draco growled and wrapped her firmly within his arms, his silver eyes glittering dangerously. “Weasley.”

Ginny laughed and couldn’t keep from kissing him on the nose. “Go ahead,” she said softly. She lay back down on the pillows that only an hour ago she had cried on, and braced herself again for his impact. No longer too concerned with her pleasure now that she had achieved her peak, Draco pounded himself into her relentlessly. This, she thought hazily, is what it’s like to be fucked by a Malfoy.

Her eyes closed to fully absorb the sensation of his thrusts. Ginny could feel Draco’s rhythm grow increasingly erratic while he grunted above her. Although she couldn’t imagine that he could become any harder, the increased tension in his muscles as he plunged into her in frenzy told her otherwise. She decided to help him along and benevolently clenched her walls around him, eliciting a loud moan from her partner. Ginny grinned to herself at the thought of having the haughty Draco Malfoy react at her whim, pumping him again and again, until he poured out his heart, his soul, his everything inside her.

Afterwards, they lay tangled in her sheets in silence, Draco lying face down in exhaustion, and Ginny staring at the ceiling beside him, not quite willing to accept what she had just done and with whom. The wetness of blood, sweat, and sex that had stained her bedspread from their activities made her increasingly uncomfortable, and she reached over to poke Draco tentatively.

“Malfoy, get up. My dorm mates could be getting back any time now.”

Draco tilted his head towards her. “So it’s Malfoy again, is it? It was Draco when you were screaming for me a few minutes ago,” he sneered, his mask of arrogance returned now that he had regained control of himself.

Ginny’s cheeks burned hot again. “I…I don’t remember.”

Draco arched his eyebrows, an amused smile playing at his lips. “Oh that’s right; you passed out while screaming my name.” He turned to face her and planted a light kiss on her lips. “Stay conscious next time, and you’ll know that I’m right.”

Ginny gritted her teeth. Oh, this was a mistake. “There won’t be a next time, Malfoy.” She clutched the sheets close to her as she felt Draco rake his eyes over her partially nude form appraisingly.

“Whatever you say, Weasley,” he drawled, getting up to gather his clothes. With a quick wave of his wand, he was dressed immaculately once again with his hair slicked back neatly, though Ginny could still see the love bites she’d left on his neck. Evidently the simple dressing charm had failed to cover them up. An irrational desire seized her at the sight: She wanted him to leave the marks, because they signified that he was hers.

Shaking her crazed possessiveness aside, Ginny turned her mind to more pressing matters. “How are you going to get out?” she asked him, concerned at being discovered. “I don’t know how you got in here without being detected, but our common room’s bound to be filled with people now.”

Draco scoffed, “You’re such a simpleton, Weasley. Give me your broom and I’ll fly out the window back to Slytherin.”

Ginny’s temper flared up again. “Well excuse me if I don’t have experience in sneaking out of other people’s dorm rooms after a shag! And I’m not lending you my new broom!”

Shaking his head, Draco scowled at her. “Give me your old one then. I’ll be sure to return it, as I would rather die than be seen with a Comet in my possession.”

Reluctantly, Ginny summoned her old Comet 200 and handed it over. “Here,” she muttered, refusing to look at him, her heart quite stung at the idea of being just another one of Draco Malfoy’s conquests.

In an unexpectedly gentle gesture, Draco bent down to kiss the top of her head. “Till next time then, Ginny.”

He opened the window, mounted the Comet, and flew outside. When Ginny peered out to see if he had gone, he flew back up and hovered close enough to touch her.

“Weasley,” he baited. “Do you want to know why I snogged Brown right in front of you?”

The jagged memory of Draco kissing Lavender in the library made her wince slightly. “Why?” she asked, not quite sure she wanted to know the answer.

Draco’s trademark arrogant smirk spread across his aristocratic features. “You needed to be jealous and angry enough to admit that you want me.” Before Ginny could react and throw something at him, he kissed her hard on the mouth once more and zoomed away into the distance.

Ginny watched him until his figure was no more than a dot on the horizon and then flopped down onto her bed in shock. Merlin, what have I done?

*~*~*