Here is a new Draco/Ginny story, a One-shot this time. This story is NOT a sequel to Too Close For Comfort, although this is also a post-Hogwarts fic. I tried to write more of an angsty story and I think that this fic is filled with pretty much angst.

Anyway, I hope you like it. ;)

Disclaimer: there's not a lot here but what's here isn't mine.

Metaphorical Marks

Ginny Weasley didn't remember the exact date when she started sleeping with Draco Malfoy. All she knew was that it had been more than a year. Not that the exact time really mattered, she couldn't even remember how many times they had shared the night. Her body under his, or the other way round, his soft touch and his kisses made her forget the time, hell, they made her even forget where she was sometimes. Even though she was in her own appartment. Afterwards, he always left her room as quick as possible, as if he was ashamed to be there. He had never stayed until the morning. They barely talked.

Some time ago, she had admitted to herself that she admired him. She didn't only admire his body, she was also attracted by the way he usually acted. She knew it was weird to be attracted to arrogance, cockiness and vanity, and yet she was. Of course, he had no idea of what she felt. For him, the only connection they shared was a physical connection.

And then there was that night.

That particular night after they had sex, she saw them, when she was leaning back against the headbord of her bed. He had turned his naked back to her -something she wasn't used to- while putting his shirt back on. She was used to him facing her, and getting his clothes off, instead of on. At first, she didn't even notice the slight color difference on his skin. Long-stretched white marks, hard to spot on his pale, almost moon-like skin, which sometimes seemed to light up in the dark. She moved forward a bit, and before the smooth fabric of his shirt could touch his back, she touched his spine. She felt him freeze under her touch while she lazily traced her finger up and down one of the marks.

"Where did you get those?" she whispered, barely noticeable even though they were alone in the silent, semi-dark room.

He turned his upper part of his body, she felt the muscles in his back twitch underneath her hand.

"It's nothing," he replied softly, his voice sounding a little bit edgy though, "just some scars I got from Quidditch."

"That's nonsense," she let out a small laugh and shook her head slowly, "you don't get scars like those by playing Quidditch, unless you fall off your broom into a field with spiky plants."

"What are you, Weasley?" he snorted, "a healer?"

This was one of those times he felt uncomfortable and she knew it, because he was returning the question without answering her question first. He had also the habit of calling her Weasley again –instead of Ginny- when she came too close to hurting him in any way.

When he turned around again and didn't move, she knew it was too late: she had hurt him. And she hated it when that happened, even though he had hurt her many, many times in the past. But the past was the past. Although the past had the habit of coming back at times you didn't expect it to, when it's unwanted. Times like these.

Ginny withdrew her hand. Draco still wasn't moving, all he did was breathing. She couldn't see his face to read his emotions, but from his body language she could tell that he was thinking about...something she didn't know.

"Draco?" she said, she hadn't said his last name since seven months.

No reply, only the lingering silence between the two people sitting on the bed. He was obviously ignoring her.

"Don't shut me out, please..." she realised her tone sounded pleading, begging almost. That was defenitely not what she intended to sound like and she bit her lip, before she continued with more confidence in her voice.

"I can see that you don't want to talk about it, I understand that, but some secrets are not to be kept for yourself until you die," she said.

She had pulled the trigger. He turned around with such a speed that Ginny partly expected him to dislocate either his neck or his back. He looked at her with eyes she had never seen. They appeared to be wet and filled and with hate, but somehow, she thought it wasn't hate against her.

"You know what? I'm going to tell you the whole story! Because then," he inhaling strongly through his nose, "then you will always remind me as the boy who was abused by his father."

She did the only reasonable thing she could think of. She gasped. Loudly.

He had clearly made his decision and began to tell his story, ignoring the gasps Ginny made as the story prolonged.

It had been one of the most traumatic experiences in his life. He had been eight years old when it happened. Just a little kid, so vulnerable and not able to defend himself properly. The man who did it was nobody else than Lucius Malfoy, his own father. His own father, for Merlins sake! His father had always been the fiery type, but that day was different.
Draco had never seen him so angry in his whole life, and even though he hadn't been the one who had been wrong, he had been the victim of his father's actions. His father had been chasing him through the whole manor, knocking down expensive vases and other artworks in the process. In the end, his father had cornered him. From then, Draco knew that his father's silver cane had other purposes than just showing of power and wealth.

He had limped to his bedroom, falling down on the floor with bloody stains on his back. His mother had found him and taken care of the wounds,he remembered her crying softly. The wounds healed, but the remains were still visible. From that day, the imprints of the snakehead had been visible as white scars on his back. If people looked closer, they could still see the snakehead-pattern, but Draco had always said that he got the scars from Quidditch and people believed him. Even if he had told them the truth, they wouldn't believe him.

"Happy now? Was that what you wanted to hear?" Draco said when he was finished, his voice trembling.

There was this rule that said that Draco Malfoy did most definitely not cry. This rule, however, just like all the other rules, had to be broken at least once. Ginny saw one, salt tear sliding down his cheek. He whiped it away with one single, angry movement.

Hestitatingly, Ginny opened her mouth again to speak.

"Have you never tried to... to have them removed if they caused you so much pain?" Ginny asked, and at the same time she realised it was stupid to say that, but the damage was already done.

"Don't you understand?!" Draco said loudly, on the edge of shouting, "they're not only something visible from the outside! It's just a part of it! They're here too," he pointed at his chest, "on the inside! They're bloody metaphorical marks! Those scars on my heart don't go away by removing those on my back!"

He shook his head angrily, stood up from the edge of the bed and put his shirt and the rest of his clothes on without saying a word. He then walked through the bedroom door and to the door of her appartment.

She hurried to follow him and almost fell of the bed in the process, she sweared as she grabbed her blouse and panties and put them on. She didn't bother to put on any of her other clothes. When she got out of her bedroom, she was relieved when she saw that Draco hadn't reached the door yet.

"Wait," she said, no, she demanded.

He turned around, in barely two seconds she had reached him and stood there, in front of him. She touched his arm lightly, which made him shiver a little bit, she could feel it.

"Would you stay?" she asked.

Ginny felt the tears in her eyes, not sure where they had come from, but they were there. She looked at him in anticipation, but he almost immediately shook his head.

"I can't stay. You know that."

"No, I don't know that. You never told me why."

He shrugged, "there doesn't have to be a reason."

"Is there someone else? If so, just tell me, I wouldn't care. We do this for fun, right?"

"Don't be stupid, there is nobody else," he snarked loudly, and then, in a lighter tone, "listen Weasley, it's one thing that I sleep with you every once in a while, but staying all night until the morning comes...no, there is no way I can do that. There is this risk, the risk I get attached too much," he hestitated, "it's already harder for me to leave you every time."

"So, in fact, you don't want to go?" she asked, holding back her breath a little, while bending towards him.

"No," he said, there was barely expression in his voice, although she thought she could see a little relief in his eyes.

"Then don't," she whispered in his ear.

She moved her hand a bit and brushed his arm in the process, then reached up to cup his cheek with her hand, but she wasn't fast enough.

Before she could even touch his face, he had moved forward and crushed her lips with his, lifting her off her feet in the process. She surprised him by wrapping her legs around his body, and her arms around his neck. He grabbed her bottom, pushing her body even more to his. And she realised his lips on hers felt so good, so...right.

Ginny never wanted to let go, but she was the first who broke the kiss, gasping for air.

"Do you still wanna go?" she said with a smirk.

"Maybe," he said with a facial expression that was too serious to be true.

Then he smirked too, and then, he acted like he was about to leave. He let go of her body, almost causing her to fall on the floor, but he caught her again in his arms, and put her on the floor, on her ass, her legs still partly wrapped around him. A few seconds, she was shocked, but then she couldn't hold back any longer and she began to laugh. Maybe it was relief, maybe it was something else but she laughed out loud. Even the corners of Draco's mouth curled.

And then she saw the best thing she had ever seen; Draco Malfoy was laughing. Not his usual, evil smirk. Not even a sarcastic laugh, but a modest, genuine laugh. It was a funny sound, it was almost like he wasn't used to laughing.

She said, without any trace of hestitation

"I like it when you laugh."

Draco's laugh faded and he looked at her with his grey, almost melancholic eyes. He removed her legs from his body with a determined look on his face and rose to his feet.

"Wh...I thought you'd stay?" she said, both surprised and disappointed.

"I'm not going anywhere, but I thought you'd want to join me in the bedroom?" he asked, stretching his arm reaching to her with his hand.

With a small smile, she grabbed his hand and rose to her feet with his help.

She was surprised that she was able to contain herself until she was in her bedroom again, although he wasn't even able to close the door behind his back before she launched herself to him again.

That night she had the most amazing sex she's ever had with him. She knew it sounded stupid and cliched, but it was not a night of just sex again. It was what they call making love.

He had fallen asleep first, so she had the time to take a closer look at his features. That started to annoy her after a while, because she realised she would be irritated if someone was looking at her while she was sleeping. Her intention had been to fall asleep with her head on his chest, but soon he turned over in his sleep. He was lying on his left side now, so she was facing his back.

His scars were painfully visible.

She smiled to herself and inched a bit closer to his body. She traced every scar the could see softly with her finger, before giving them all a small kiss. After that, she tangled her legs with his. She looked at him one more time, and she hoped that, tonight, she had covered at least one metaphorical scar on his heart with a good memory.

"Sweet dreams," she whispered, before closing her eyes and drifting to sleep.