Chapter One

Her eyes slowly fluttered closed as he viciously assaulted her delicate, milky white neck. Wisps of red hair fell back onto the silky green duvet. Her pale hands clutched the silver pillow behind her as a strong pressure roared in her stomach, begging for release. He placed light butterfly kisses along the dip of her collarbone.

“Draco,” she whispered pleadingly.

This was all he needed. He ran his calloused hands through her fiery red tresses. She wrapped her frail arms around his tender neck, smoothing down the back end of his silvery blonde hair. Draco practically ripped off all the buttons on her white blouse in his lust-glazed state after he pushed off her black robe negligently. He tore her gray skirt off, leaving her in the serpent green and dazzling silver lined undergarments. They contrasted with her shocked crimson colored hair, automatically taking his breath away.

“You’re beautiful, Virginia,” Draco smiled genuinely.

She just blushed violently at the spontaneous compliment. Draco Malfoy was not exactly known for handing them out. The only words that he did hand out of a daily basis were insults.

“I knew it would look smashing on you,” he cooed into her ear huskily.

He had personally walked over to the Gryffindor table during breakfast and handed Ginny the small package along with a note neatly tucked inside, away from prying eyes. Ron absolutely blew a fuse. He was infuriated to say the least. Strings of obscenities were thrown at Draco. It took Harry, Dean, Seamus and Neville to restrain Ron from killing him. Snape instantaneously gave him a well-deserved detention.

“You know, you really shouldn’t egg him on like that,” she whispered.

Draco just trailed a line of sloppily planted kisses from her jawbone to her navel, swirling his tongues in the small yet deep crater. Tight knots became tighter as the pent up sexual frustration piled up.

“Draco!” she begged through clenched teeth.

He decided to take mercy on her. He pulled off his forest green and dandelion yellow lined Quidditch robe and allowed them to fall disheveled to the ground, kicking them away. Ginny was getting impatient so she tore off his white shirt and pulled down his jeans and black silk boxers all in one tug. He groaned noisily as his restraining pants broke contact with his blatant erection. A low growl of appreciation erupted from Ginny’s throat. She had never seen many men this beautiful naked before. He gently pushed his manhood in, thinking that the first time would be painful since you had your hymen intact. He had felt no barrier, which only meant…

“You’re not a virgin?” he questioned surprisedly.

“No,” Ginny moaned as she completely sheathed him and got acquainted with the intrusion.

Draco immediately pulled out of her fragile body as if she had burnt him.

“What the bloody hell is your problem?” she yelled in a whiny manner.

“You’re mine,” he growled dangerously.

Draco slammed his hands down on the wooden headboard and they shook with vigor. Ginny winced as if in physical pain.

“Draco… Why are you overreacting?” Ginny whispered.

“Because you belong to me!” Draco blew up.

Ginny whimpered softly under him.

“Was it perfect fucking Potter?” Draco snarled.

Ginny just kept her silence and squirmed uncomfortably under the penetrating mercury depths of his silver eyes.

“So it was. I’m going to kill him,” he sneered.

“No… It wasn’t him,” Ginny said timidly.

“Then who the bloody hell was it?” Draco screamed.

“B- Blaise Zabini,” she whispered.

Blaise was beyond good looking. He had spiked up raven black hair, amethyst colored eyes, broad shoulders, 6’2 and long, delectable fingers that kept you dreaming.

“The Deatheater?” Draco asked angrily.

“Yes, it was I. But that was before I became one,” Blaise’s voice rang.

Draco automatically shot up from his bed and threw on his long discarded Quidditch robe. Draco himself had blonde hair on the verge of white, steely gray eyes, taut muscles, was 6’0 and pissed beyond all reason.

“It’s okay, really. I took it nice and gentle with her,” Blaise smirked devilishly.

“You bastard!” Draco yelled.

Draco jumped on top of Blaise in a flash. He pounded the beautiful boy into a bloody pulp with all the strength and anger he had bottled up inside. When Draco got up off of him, Blaise was already unconscious, sporting a few bruises, sprawled across the floor. Ginny had to restrain herself from going to help Blaise.

“You slut,” Draco spat nastily.

Ginny glared murderously at him, piercing imaginary daggers into his icy heart. If looks could kill, the Malfoy heir would have already died thrice times.

“Fuck you,” she snarled.

Ginny placed a quick healing charm on Blaise, got dressed and left in a hurry, giving Blaise a small peck on his delicate cheek when he was conscious. That blew Draco’s lid off. Once Ginny was gone and Blaise followed after her, he thrashed the entire seventh year boys dormitory into shattered pieces. Every droplet of blood from his knuckles gave him a sense of control and it calmed him down greatly. He knew that he couldn’t heal the scars that were bound to appear that he had inflicted upon his hand and the nasty scrapes along his nimble fingers because of all the hatred radiating from each punch he made. He knew that self-mutilation would never be fully healed; only covered. Yet he welcomed each jolt of pain that sliced through his arm, which made him feel like he was on cloud nine. A knock quickly interrupted his train of thought.

“Draco?” Ginny softly called out.

“What?” Draco’s voice cracked.

“I forgot something,” she whispered.

Ginny just barged right on in before Draco could even object. She gasped in absolute horror and shock. Her cinnamon eyes definitely reflected her emotions.

“What happened? What did you do? Why are you bleeding?” Ginny interrogated.

“What do you care?” Draco snapped, putting on his usual cold demeanor.

“Fine,” Ginny retorted angrily.

She stepped over the shards of glass and picked up her Most Potente Potions book that she had borrowed from the library and stormed out in a huff. She walked out on him again. It hurt more than before. Not just his emotional pain this time, but his physical pain, too. His throat constricted and it felt as if his heart were coming up his esophagus. It pained for him to have her walk out on him once, but twice? It was ludicrous. He didn’t think that he could handle it. Draco didn’t love her, he knew that because Malfoy’s didn’t love or believe in it. Or do they? Even if they did, they wouldn’t go pleading to their significant others. He growled in frustration. Why were women so infuriating? Stupid complex creatures. Pansy was never this bad. Then again, she was a submissive little wench. He threw himself onto his bed and screamed into the pillow. It wasn’t his fault that she wasn’t pure anymore. He just acted on instinct. If his father had not taken his mother’s innocence, he probably would have killed her. That was just the way things worked in his household. Stupid women.

* * * * *

Stupid men and their caveman jealousy. Why she ever bothered with that prat, she’d never know. Men were all the same. It was like reading a romance novel. It was always the same plot with a different cover. She wanted to read a different book now. Maybe a mystery book. When Blaise followed her, she quickly slipped into an empty room and silently closing the door, leaving him to walk around mindlessly. She sighed as he walked out of hearing range. Why was it that she had such bad taste in men? First, it was the boy-who-wouldn’t-die. Then, it was Lord Voldemort, which was a disgusting prospect in itself. If you had ever seen his current appearance, you’d be repulsed, too by ever falling for him. After that was Michael Corner, who had inconsequently fallen under the spell of Cho Chang. Of course, we can’t forget about Dean Thomas, who had the biggest lips and the sloppiest kisses. Also, there was Colin Creevey, who turned out to be gay. Next, it was Blaise who used her to get his ex-girlfriend jealous, but had just recently gotten together and had broken up again. Finally, it was Draco, who was just a righteous arse. Stupid bad judgment. Stupid men.

She walked back up to Gryffindor tower, managing to get herself all twisted up for nothing. It was way past curfew as she snuck inside after an angry chiding from the Fat Lady for awaking her slumber. She slipped into her room inconspicuously and changed into her jimjams and fell asleep.

* * * * *

The next morning, Ginny woke up bright and early. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and yawned obnoxiously, smacking her lips together. She got out of bed, got showered, dressed and ready for the day in less than an hour. She flounced down stairs into the common room since it was too early to be in the Great Hall. She kept reminiscing about the night before and chastised herself for being so weak. There was no way that she would let this ruin her life.

“Morning, Gin!” a chipper voice called out.

It was Hermione, the girlfriend of the boy-who-kept-getting-lucky. She glided down the stairs and smiled in her direction. Why was she so bloody happy? Oh, right. She probably got laid…

“Morning, ‘Mione,” Ginny replied.

“Ron was waiting up for you last night. When did you come back?” she queried.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Ron was going to kill her. He knew exactly where she was. Damn it all to hell…

“I’m not sure. Maybe around 2,” Ginny answered.

“Oh. Okay. I just wanted to give you a heads up if you see him. He had quite a nasty fit, if you know what I mean,” she warned.

Double shit.

“Anyways… What are you going to wear for the Christmas dance?” Hermione asked with detached interest.

Triple shit. She had forgotten about the dance. She had nothing to wear.

“It’s a surprise.” That was true enough.

“Mmm… So do you want to go shopping for your gown tomorrow?” Hermione grinned.

Okay, so she was caught. The Christmas hols was only days away, less than a fortnight. Ginny smiled at Hermione and accepted her offer. She didn’t have much money to work with to buy something extravagant, but it was better than going with last year’s robes, which were already too small for her back then.

All of a sudden, loud stomping noises came from the dormitories. She was willing to bet a galleon that it was Ron. As predicted, he came down a few minutes later. His eyes blazed with fury and his ears were red. No one should be this mad in the morning…

“Where were you?” he yelled.

“I was out,” Ginny replied tersely.

“I know that, but where were you out at?” he questioned.

“That’s none of your bloody business, Ronald Weasley. Now please get out of my face unless you want me to tell everyone your middle name,” she taunted.

Ron’s face drained of color. He backed off in an instant while Ginny smirked triumphantly. She pushed him aside and started a conversation with Hermione about the best color for her dress robe. They decided either an ivory color or an emerald green. Ron stood there, dumbfounded. He couldn’t believe his own ears. Was his sister blackmailing him? This only meant one thing: She was hanging around the bouncing ferret too bloody much.

As he pondered the theory, Harry walked down, as did the rest of the 7th year Gryffindor boys. They had all been awaken by Ron’s loud footsteps and furious muttering. They all, however, sympathized with Ginny. They all knew that he was so livid when she hadn’t come back at 12. It had taken two sleeping droughts to get him to sleep. Very potent ones at that. However, they were all surprised at his pale, ghostlike face and silent form.

“Hey, Gin. Hello, sweetheart,” Harry murmured into Hermione’s skin.

Ginny made a noncommittal grunt of a greeting and left it at that. Soon, they all headed to the Great Hall in a pack. A few more kids had come down, but not many. Ginny sat by the end closest to the door, with her back faced to the Slytherins. As usual, most of the Slytherins were already awake, except for a few of the younger ones. Ron, Hermione and Harry all sat by her, but didn’t talk to her. Ron still had a stony expression on. Something akin to boredom registered in her mind. She prodded the porridge and felt a sensation that someone was watching her. She defiantly ignored it.

Halfway through the meal, she got tired of the charade and decided to be early to Potions for once. She headed down to the dungeons and into the classroom where Professor Snape already was. Obviously, he didn’t want to be around the rambunctious kids, either. He lifted a single brow before going back to his work. He genuinely liked the female Weasley. She was quiet, yet full of passion. She had a knack for Potions and was probably the best in his 6th year class. She wasn’t an insufferable know-it-all like Granger. She was more modest with her accomplishments. While she looked as innocent as everyone would like to believe, he could see that she was always hiding something in her eyes. He was very introspective. He liked to study the students to see their weak points. He was slightly curious about her since she didn’t seem to have a vulnerability that he could distinguish yet. She was an interesting subject, if he had to be honest to himself. Kind of like Lily Evans… But that wasn’t the time or the place.

Soon, the Gryffindor and Slytherin 6th years filed in silently. They all sat in their respective seats and the lesson promptly began.


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