I'd like to know what you were thinking.

Her long, willowy figure moves slightly in her sleep and the green silk sheet wrapped around her slips down her back to reveal an expanse of milky white skin. Her long, auburn locks fan around her head like a golden halo and her strawberry red lips are slightly apart as she breathes deeply. It's dark but she glows there, like an iridescent angel peacefully asleep. She is exceptionally beautiful and I wonder just what were you thinking.

I remember the night at the pub where I came across her at the bar alone, several empty bottles of firewhisky in front of her. I approached her with a smirk on my face and the bartender shook his head at the sorry sight of her.

"Well, Weasley, your fiancé forgets about your dinner date and you're ready to drink yourself to oblivion," I had said to her. She was dressed in dark jeans and a white oxford shirt and she looked at me with a blank stare.

"Only because the reason he forgot was because he was fucking Cho Chang on top of his office desk."

I have to admit that had caught me off guard and for the first time in my life, I had the strongest urge to apologize. Of course, I held it in and fortunately, she decided to end the awkward silence.

"She wasn't the first one, actually," she continued, her words slightly slurring but the way her lips moved as she spoke was quite alluring. "He had been shagging Lavender Brown while I was away for quidditch training. He blamed me for it; said he wanted to marry me and have a family with me but couldn't because I was always away training with the Harpies. I believed him then and I was pleasantly surprised that he wanted to fulfill our plans of having a family so soon and foolish me, I gave up my quidditch career and got engaged to him."

From there all I can remember doing was sitting there, listening to her voice rant on and on about how the noble and great savior of the Wizarding World was not what he seemed and I was mesmerized.

Two hours later we were fucking as if there were no tomorrow.

Her red lips were swollen from my rough kisses. Her hands were tangled around my neck and in my hair. She had her long legs wrapped around my waist as I thrust into her deep and hard. Her velvet tightness was delicious and I couldn't get enough of it. Her moans were deep and guttural and her face contorted with pleasure. The way she held on tight as her orgasm rocked her whole body to the edge of the cliff had her walls tightening around me and I just had to spill my seed into her.

We kept bumping into each other after that in the most unexpected of places; at St. Mungo's where she had visited her brother and his wife's newborn baby and I my friend Zabini's ill grandfather; at Honeyduke's where she was buying chocolate frogs and I, Bertie Bott's every flavour beans for Pansy's daughter who was my godchild and at Boudoir where she was out with her friends and I with mine.

And we always ended up shagging somewhere.

We never usually talked after sex. She would always be the first to get up and put her clothes right and walk away but one night, after a glorious and sating round of rough sex, she had lay on her back staring at the ceiling and said, "His letters are flooding my living room."

I had felt an emotion then that was all too familiar to me and I did not understand why. Jealousy was creeping into my veins but I did not want to think too much of it. Lying on my back beside her, staring at the ceiling as well, I scrunched my forehead.

"He wants you back?"

She shrugged then and before I knew it, she was up and putting on her clothes. It seemed the pop of her disapparition resounded in the whole Manor.

"He won't stop coming around!" she had yelled one afternoon, bursting into my study, red hair flying wildly around her. I had vaguely wondered when I had lowered the wards for her. Perhaps I was getting used to her coming around for quick shags so much.

I had been in the middle of reading some of the business proposals that had been sent to me that morning.

"Give him a taste of that bat bogey hex of yours then," I had said, not even looking up at her. I was used to her rants by then and I have to say sorry, mate, but your flowers, chocolates, jewellery, letters and visits aren't working on her.

"I did but he just stood there and took it without a fight. He was at St. Mungo's for two whole days and I thought I was finally safe but this morning, he knocked on my door, bandages and bruises still on him and all!"

Clearly she was sick and angry because of it all and I decided to help her calm down in the best way I knew. I lifted her and sat her on my desk facing me. I pushed her skirt up to her waist, rubbing my palms against her thighs and pulling down her red lace knickers. I smirked upon seeing her pink folds, glistening and moist with wetness. I pulled her down slightly to my face, inhaling the musky scent of her. I looked up at her and grinned at her closed eyes and parted lips, her ample chest heaving with anticipation.

"Draco, please," she moaned and I wasted no time delving into her delicious cunt, licking and sucking and swirling my tongue around her sensitive clit. Her orgasm came but I did not stop. I lapped up all her juices and teased her to arousal over and over, fucking her with my tongue and only stopping when she begged me to, collapsing on my desk, eyes closed and thoroughly spent.

She opened her eyes after a few moments and I could not believe how beautiful she looked so I kissed her.

I knew then that she was mine and that I wanted her to be mine. Most of all, I knew then that I wanted to be hers.

So, I took her out to dinner that evening. We entered Giovanni's hand in hand with silly smiles on our faces. It had caused a ruckus if you remember and the number of Weasleys knocking on my door the next morning was unbelievable.

They weren't the only ones upset though. You were too. Do you remember that little scene you made at the Ministry event? You just couldn't stand the sight of us together could you? Couldn't stand the fact that she and I made a very beautiful and not to mention powerful couple. Most of all, you couldn't stand the fact that she was exquisite and smiling happily with her hand clasped tightly in mine. She had gotten over you and your immaturity and you couldn't stand it. So, stupid as you are, you come rushing to her, throw your wine in her face, calling her a whore and have the whole room freeze and look at you with all their shocked and disgusted faces. You've humiliated yourself beyond words and you really can't blame me for landing that punch that broke your nose and left you bleeding and unconscious on the floor.

Ginevra Weasley lies in my bed tonight, silk sheets and plush pillows around her. She looks beautiful in the moonlight and it gives me peace and happiness to know that she's mine and that she loves me. She brings out the best in me and accepts me for who I am despite my dark past. I'm no sentimental man and I probably won't answer if you ask me if I love her but deep down I know that she knows that although there might have been a time where I could have left her, that was far behind and now, I could not possibly live without her.

They say you never know what you've got until it's gone but you know what you lost. Sorry mate, I'm never giving her back to you.