The Day Without Him
Summary: The days are too long without him she is reminded, and the nights are even longer.
Disclaimer: You know how it goes. I own nada.
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The days are too long without him she is reminded, and the nights are even longer. He's only been three days now (two nights) and there are many more ahead. He's gone for weeks at a time and she misses him so much when there's no body beside her in bed at night. She can't go with him, she has a job here, just as he has his. Sure, he makes enough money for the both of them, but without a job of her own she feels useless and empty.
She has her own friends, true, but they can't help her with this particular type of loneliness. None of them. Well, none with the exception of one. She doesn't like to call on him though, not for a reason such as this. It's not fair to the one that she really loves. No, she must bear the empty time on her own.
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Today it has been exactly one week since he's left her again and she has, at least, two more to bear, another month tops. She's proud of herself, usually she would have ran to the other man by now, but no it's been months since she's called on him for that. It's been weeks since she's called him for any reason. Maybe she should? He is very nice company. Even just to talk...
She walks to the fireplace, places her hand in the pot on the mantle, and then stops. Should she really call him? It could be too much of a temptation. But she does miss him and they are friends. Believing in her own inner strength, she grabs a handful of powder and throws it into the fire, kneels down and puts her head into the flames, calls out, and moments later she sees him sitting in an armchair reading the Daily Prophet, "Hello, Draco ..."
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So far so good. They've been sitting together catching up for about an hour and a half. They talk and joke and laugh on the sofa, but all the time she doesn't forget his touch and his growl and his shivers and sighs. She also keeps in mind her resolve to not allow herself to experience those again. Needless to say it's very difficult. She wants to feel him and if his actions are anything to go by she's not alone. It would be so easy to just slide over, he's barely a foot away.
"Ginny ..."
He can sense it. He wants it as well. 'Come closer to me, Draco,' she relates to him in her mind. She needn't say it out loud. Within seconds he's on top of her and she's savouring his touch. His lips are over hers and he's removing her skirt. Oh, she's dying for this, she's been craving this for, oh, so long. She moves to strip off his pants, when something gets caught. It's her ring, and she her resolve is coming back full force, just about. 'No.'
"No." she says aloud, and he stops. Looking up at her, his eyes squint, almost imperceptibly, in thought. 'Why?' he wonders, but he won't ask. He gets up and fixes his appearance before nodding and Disapparating quickly.
She sighs and pulls up her skirt. It was going to be a long day. And an even longer night.
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Two weeks this time and she's just received a letter from her husband. He should be home within days though without an exact number. She doesn't know if she can stand anymore days. She must do something. She's held herself over for long enough, broken her own record, but she can't stand it any longer.
Once again she is at the fireplace.
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It took some grovelling on her part, but eventually he did returned. he enjoyed seeing her that way, begging and pleading, offering him almost anything. She was desperate, he knew, and she was not alone; she knew. They used each other. It was a wonderful relationship with no strings attached and they did enjoy each others company as friends when they only talked. Things would be the same with or without the sex. She knew, this was how they both felt, she knew.
Now, here they were in the bed that she shared with her husband. The man that she was with right now wasn't her husband though. Neither minded much. They were both satisfied ... almost. He pulled her on top of him.
"Again?" she wasn't complaining.
"Can you give me a reason why not?" he grinned. She responded with a reflection of his lips on hers, lowering her face to his, almost as if she were calling him to an unspoken challenge, and allowing herself to move in a way she knew would drive him crazy, quickly. He groaned and a short period of time later he was crying out to her as he spends. She finished moments later but didn't move from him. When he's done collecting himself, he looks at her queerly, and she wonders if she did something wrong for the first time. There are butterflies in her stomach and something's not right.
"What?" she asks, she gets the terrible feeling something happened that shouldn't have. Or something will.
"Ginevra ... I love you." he says simply, but there is nothing simple about that phrase. She doesn't love him as he does her. She goes limp, save for her arms which still hold her above him. Before she can tell him how she feels the bedroom door flies open. There stand the the famous Harry Potter, boy-who-lived, and successful Auror.
"Surprise! Ginny, I'm – MALFOY?!"