The smell of strong coffee wafted over Ginny Weasley's nose, and groaning, she turned to bury her face into the pillow cushioning her head. The feel of soft silk brushing against her cheek jump-started her thoughts and another groan left her mouth. Soft sheets and the scent of coffee only meant one thing.
Just as the thought entered her mind, a voice drawled out from over her shoulder completely confirming her belief, "Wake up Weasley. I'm sure you have somewhere to run off to."
Ginny refused to budge at the sound of the voice, instead allowing her head to remain buried into the pillow. Perhaps if she just pressed hard enough time would rewind itself. Or she would suffocate. Suffocation sounded pretty good this morning.
Even with her face pressed against the pillow she didn't miss the sound of retreating footsteps or the deep grumblings of a man's voice. She wouldn't look up and see his face. She wouldn't. She shouldn't be here, not only because it was a bad decision – and oh but it was a bad decision – but because he had made it perfectly clear the last time that she would not be welcome back. But here she was, face-down in his bed again.
The footsteps faded, and Ginny sighed. She slowly sat up after she heard the bathroom door squeak, and with a quick glance to ensure that he was out of the room – the door was almost completely closed, only a fragment of light seeping out around the edges – moved forward to grab a cup of coffee off of the tray placed on the nightstand. The silken sheet slipped over her as she reached and Ginny blushed despite herself at the feel against her bare skin.
But of course she was naked. She never woke up clothed when she woke up here.
Taking a long gulp of the burning coffee Ginny figured she deserved the burnt mouth it earned her. She flopped back against the bedding after setting the cup down again and allowed her hand to trace over the sheets beside her.
She really did love this bedding. Maybe that was the reason why she kept finding herself here. Ginny smirked at her inner musings but the smirk quickly fled at the sound of the shower running in the next room. He always took a shower after giving her coffee. And she almost always left while he was still in there.
For a moment Ginny lay perfectly still and contemplated staying. The bed was awfully inviting, and she really had nothing better to do today. It was not a work day and the absolute last thing Ginny wanted to do was return to her flat. More than likely Harry would be there.
At the thought of Harry, Ginny's mouth twisted.
Stupid bleeding Harry Potter. She could throttle him right now. In fact, that idea was almost as promising as suffocation had sounded and almost as tempting as staying in this bed. And it was not like Harry didn't deserve it. Any man who went back and forth between choosing his job or a woman deserved a good throttling in Ginny's opinion. Of course in this instance she was biased considering she was the woman.
Another sigh escaped her and she rolled petulantly back over so her face was once again pressed against the darkness of the pillow.
She had thought that she and Harry would be married by now. Ron and Hermione had certainly wasted no time. After their engagement, Ginny kept waiting expectantly for Harry to follow suit, and when he hadn't she had attributed it to her being in school, and once she had graduated and gotten the job in the ministry and he still had not proposed Ginny put it down to the stress of becoming an Auror. But after Auror training was completed and they had gone to Ron and Hermione's wedding and then George and his wife's besides, Ginny was forced to face the fact that marriage was not on Harry Potter's mind.
After that the fighting had started.
She wanted to be married. She wanted to take that next step in their relationship, but Harry always found a reason not to. He said it was his job. He wanted to focus on rounding up the Death Eaters, and then he wanted to see their trials through. And then he transferred to international affairs, where he was gone most weeks. That had been the breaking point, and Ginny had turned into one of those ultimatum girlfriends. She hadn't wanted to, truly she hadn't. But she was twenty now, and all of her friends were beginning to settle down. And she wanted to be married to Harry, or she had. But once she had laid down her ultimatum Harry had surprised them all by saying he needed time to decide.
That's right, the boy known for rash decisions needed time to think.
Ginny snorted now at the thought but still felt that echo pinprick of pain. That was the first time she left, and the first time she found herself here, but it had not been the last. It had been a year since she had given her ultimatum, and over that period of time she had left Harry seven times, found herself here, and gone back six.
Did she really want to go back seven times?
The thought hurt her heart. But no more than the memory of Harry's words last night hurt her heart.
Last night, over dinner, Ginny had once again broached the subject, but this time had been different. This time Harry bleeding Potter had an answer. And it was not the one Ginny wanted.
He had claimed that if she waited two more years then he would transfer back to homeland security. The travelling would end and they could get married. It was only two more years. And when Ginny had argued that she had already waited a year, Harry had replied that that was exactly his point. She was clearly willing to wait. Ginny disagreed, and when she redelivered her ultimatum, Harry had only begun to argue the importance of his job rather than try to talk her out of it. That had been the breaking point.
Even now, the next morning, Ginny felt the flash of anger accompanied by an ache deep in her gut. She knew that something had changed. If Harry was not even fighting anymore, what was the point in her ultimatum? He was right after all; if she was going to be there anyway why did he have to choose? But then where did that leave Ginny?
She stopped her thoughts abruptly, as she had last night after she had left with little more than her wand and her purse. This morning though she did not have the company of alcohol to assist her as it had last night.
With another groan that came out more of a sigh, Ginny pushed herself out of the bed and began searching for her clothing. She didn't need to make a decision right now. She could go to Ron's or George's or even Bill's. But she could not stay here. She had once, and that had been a mistake.
Now conscious of the shower that was still miraculously on, Ginny hastened her search. She needed to get out before he got out of the shower. Bending over to search under the bed, Ginny was blinded by a sharp, stinging pain just inside of her left hip. She straightened with a gasp and her hands and eyes automatically sought out the source.
And then she froze.
Written there on the pale white skin between her hip bone and nether-region was the prettiest cursive script Ginny had ever seen. But despite the eloquence of the writing itself, Ginny's heart stopped, because clearly written there on her skin was a name.
Draco.