Sleep was hard to find these days. She'd twist and turn, thinking that this had to be the spot or the position that could finally make her drift off properly. Instead, though, these days she'd just lie in a state of semi-sleep and… black would meet her eyes but it wasn't enough anymore.
So she did the only thing that ever helped these days, and when her fingers roamed past the lining of her knickers she found herself shutting her eyes tight because the image always haunted her in these moments, these days.
Her breath came in short gasps as her finger stroked her clit numb and her hips rocked against her hands, demanding more, demanding him to fill her to the hilt, and he would worship her body and his lips would tantalise her breasts and his hands would coax her hips, and he would rock her endlessly until both their bodies would glisten and stick to one another in an endless plea to never let go.
Ginny Weasley whimpered his name when body and nerves crashed into oblivion.
He did, too.
Draco Malfoy was watching her from his own bed.
Author's Notes: I know I'll get tonnes of emails asking me about the last line and "WTF he's in Slytherin why is his bed that close to hers?" or "can he project himself?" and all that jazz. Well, yes and no. It could be all that, no problem, but when I wrote this a few months back, I had in mind that maybe it's during the War and maybe Draco's a spy and they're in a tent together but she forgot about him being there or what. Or, the other thought that ran through my mind was that perhaps they're in Auror/Healing school together and they're in a dormitory with these bunches of other people but Draco's the only other one besides Ginny awake.
