It wasn't fair that he could taunt her like that – dangle before her everything that she wanted, only to rip it away without a care in the world. Her pent up desire had got to the point of devastating frustration that had been building up for weeks and months – maybe even years. Her poor, worn self-conscious state could only hold on for so long. The best thing for her, she knew, would be to stay away from him – bid him farewell and move on with her bloody pathetic life.
The trouble was, he refused to stay away from her.
She worked at the animal shelter, caring for and nursing back to health injured and defenceless creatures unable to care for themselves. He was an aristocrat, born into endless wealth and prosperity and looked down on anyone less fortunate. Then why, she often wondered, why did he refuse to ever leave her alone?
It was closing time on a Thursday evening. She was tidying up the front counter and making certain that all of the animals were secured in their cages with enough food and water to last through the evening. Without even turning around, she knew that he had come in behind her. The heavy scent of cloves and cigarettes reached her, and the sound of his light footsteps against the cement floor was getting closer and closer.
"I'm afraid that I am too terribly busy this evening, Draco," she said, not bothering to turn to face him. She didn't have to. They had done this dance enough times that she could feel him before seeing or hearing.
"Ginny, Ginny," he chided mockingly. "You mean to tell me that taking care of those wretched animals is more pressing than my needs?" The smirk on his thin lips was easily heard in his voice.
"Every day of the week."
Wordlessly, he stepped closer, running his hands over her neck and shoulders, allowing his fingertips to graze her skin ever-so-subtly. Torturously slow hands massaged her tensed muscles, feeling the tiny inkling of resistance dissipate from her body. He skimmed down her back, tickling gently the soft curve of her spine as she urgently pressed back into him.
"Draco, stop," she whispered half-heartedly as his hands found her hips and they began to sway together to their own hypnotising rhythm. "Please. I've got work to do."
His mouth was at her ear, his hot breath sending jolts through her system. His hands crept around to the button on her jeans, undoing the clasp with ease as they moved further down between her legs.
Ginny gasped and let her head fall back against his chest as he touched her. Her inhibitions were stripped as she allowed his ministrations to continue. Just this once, she decided. Just this one last time would she allow him to exhibit this control over her. This would be the last time she would let him take her over.
They slid to the floor, her clothing removed without even her knowledge. He was on her, in her, over her, controlling her. Controlling everything, from the tantalising slowness with which they moved to the suffocating way in which he restricted her movements, pinning her arms over her head and using his own feet to keep her legs spread wide. She was completely bared to him – vulnerable and exposed and being used up like an old toy.
That's what she was to him, wasn't she? A toy? A ragdoll.
She reached her climax before him, just as she always had. The orgasm sickened her. Her arched back and her curled toes made her feel dirty. His dominance of her got her off, and she hated it. She didn't want to want him, much less admit that she found what they did arousing.
His breathing slowed and his thrusts slowed. Those grey eyes were on her again, boring into her, burning a hole into her skin. He pressed a kiss to her lips – a slow, sensual dance that exhibited a completely different side of him. His soft hands ran up her sides, over the curve of her breasts, gently running over her flushed cheeks.
And then it was over.
Draco was on his feet and dressed in a matter of minutes, preparing to walk out the door and leave her to clean up the mess – both the physical one and the metaphorical.
Ginny got to her feet, pressing the scraps of clothing to her chest.
"Draco?" she called, her voice feeling and sounding uncharacteristically distant.
He turned, an eyebrow lifted in question.
"Do you think that you and I could ever be more than this?"
"More than what?" His voice was unnervingly even and lacking emotion.
She bit her lip. "Will you ever love me?"
A long moment passed between them, pregnant with her thoughts left unspoken. The tension was thick and palpable.
"Why should I ever love you, Weasley?" he said, his voice hollow and distant. "You love me enough for the both of us." He paused. "I'll see you next time, love."
And then he was gone, leaving Ginny alone. Naked and confused, hurt and broken. Next time, she would say no, she decided. Next time she wouldn't let him under her skin. Next time, she would be strong.
But in truth, she knew she was only kidding herself.
She would never say no.