Kissing the Hand That Starves You
She ran, slipping and sliding in the high-heeled sandals, the branches ripping at her top, her skirt riding up her legs as she tumbled through the undergrowth. Ginny tripped, and her ankle turned over. She fell hard, her face straight into the earth. She struggled to get up, but it was too late.
"Gotcha!" came the dreaded voice, and rough hands pinned her to the ground. The earth was in her mouth, and she coughed and spluttered desperately, tears rolling silently down her cheeks.
"No!" she whispered desperately, unable to scream.
"Hold her down," she heard Malfoy say. The iron grip of Crabbe and Goyle held her fast, and they flipped her up to gaze into the sneering faces above. There was Malfoy, staring down, his brow lined with sweat and dirt mingling, his blonde hair in disheveled, tangled rats tails. He had never looked more devastatingly attractive. Ginny knew it went against all sense to love the boy who did these things, but she was no more in control of her feelings than she was of his.
Adam Lofting, the Slytherin boy from her year, leaned against Malfoy, gazing down at her with a mixture of raw lust and distaste. She could she that in his eyes she was a mere animal to be hunted down; all the fun of the chase… and the kill. He was tall and lithe, a beater on the Slytherin team, with curling chocolate hair and hazel eyes. He was like the typical lover from a chocolate box watercolour, sweeping the maiden in her peach-coloured petticoats into his arms…
No. She knew from experience that that was not how he was. Certainly not.
She gave a half-hearted struggle, and Crabbe aimed a punch at the side of her head that sent her reeling. Adam was ripping off her top, whilst Goyle tore away her skirt, until she lay naked and shivering on the cold ground. She saw Malfoy and Adam laughing above her, and Malfoy was saying something. He was very drunk, she could tell from the way he was slurring his words. He bent his face very close to hers, and she could smell the puerile stench of liquor on his breath. Malfoy kissed her roughly, and Ginny lay back, her hair tangled in the grass and roots, crumbling brown earth streaking her cheeks and knotting in her eyelashes.
They took it in turns to rape her. Malfoy went first, naturally, as the leader of the pack. Then Adam did the same, even more violently, until she was bruised and shaking. Crabbe and Goyle finished off the job. Malfoy gave her a final kick that sent her sprawling, her head hitting the base of a tree. And they were gone, galloping away into the night, laughing, and talking in lowered voices about the little slut.
The little slut lay on the ground, shaking violently, feeling a lethal mixture of disgust at herself, and deepest shame. Of course, it was naturally her own fault. She must have led them on, there was no other explanation. Boys wouldn't do that without good reason. She must have said something, done something, to make them think she was easy… easy meat. It hurt… it hurt so very much. She saw a dark crimson trickle soaking into the ground, and saw her inner thighs were stained with gore. That was all she was. A piece of meat to be used and disposed of.
Slowly, she pulled back on her filthy, ripped clothes that had been flung in the ditch nearby. Malfoy must know that she loved him. Really, really loved him. He would never intentionally hurt anyone, she was positive. Maybe this was what love was all about, anyway. Making sacrifices for the pleasure of the other. It was sex, after all. Making love. She just hadn't expected it to be so… terrible.
She carefully climbed the hill towards the castle. Rape? What was that? It was Malfoy's way of showing her that he liked her…