Author's Note: I promised a DracoxGinny fic, and here it is. The lemon isn't too graphic, but feel free to skip it if you wish, the story will still make sense. As always, please review!!!

The darkness crept over the cobblestone steps leading up to the Hogwarts castle. The moonlight streamed into the courtyard, casting eerie shadows and painting ghastly pictures on the castle's walls. A girl about the age of seventeen sat on the last step, fiery red hair tucked behind her ear as a soft wind caressed her. She had been thinking about a man, well two men actually. Both were as different as two people could possible be. Yet, they were alike in the way they grasped her heart and held on to it, sometimes even crushing it in the process.

Harry had been her sun. She had thrived underneath him as he allowed his love to warm her body and free her soul. She had grown underneath his watchful eye, transforming from an adolescent girl into a mature young woman. He had been her fist love, lover, and heartbreak. But still, his rays had allowed her freedom and happiness.

He had been something different. More like a drug, and far more potent than her shining sun. He completely ensconced her in himself, taking all of her and giving nothing in return. She was his lover, he was her addiction. She needed him like a drug, never straying too far away for fear of some other addict discovering her source. He gave her some sort of high, one she needed just to get up in the morning. Her days were darkened, knowing that she would no longer see his pale face as she walked to her classes.

She remembered it clearly, back when she had been carefree and jubilant. A spring in her step, she radiated hope. Hope for the end of the war. Hope for those fighting. Hope for those running. And hope for him, Harry. Her Harry, as she called him, though only in her mind, somewhere her brothers wouldn't hear of it and ridicule her to no end. They had been perfect for each other, like jigsaw pieces. Everything he lacked, she had. 'What a silly notion, Harry Potter lacking anything. It was probably more like whatever she lacked, he had.' she thought to herself. With Harry everything seemed perfect and….

"Ginny."

The voice was cold, harsh. She knew that voice, knew it so well that had she been away from him for years that one melodious sound would be the first thing she recognized. She whipped around, her hazel eyes adjusting to make up for the shadows the two of them cast. He hadn't changed much. His platinum locks fell a little longer, reaching the tips of his long eyelashes. And his eyes…well, they hadn't changed a bit. She had often teased him about his eyes, lovingly of course. They were round and a mixture of steel grey and baby blue. 'Such innocent, childlike eyes.' She would say before they darkened with anger and he would glare at her. He still towered over her, she couldn't detect a change in his stature, though she figured he had stopped growing by now. What was he? Eighteen? Nineteen? Twenty even? No, he couldn't be more than eighteen, he was just one year older than her. One year. Had it really been that long? Just three hundred and sixty five days since their last meeting. Time had never seemed to move slowly for her, always in an upbeat tempo. But this was different. Here, with him, the seconds didn't trickle by, but seemed frozen in their tracks. Oh yes, her ice prince had returned.

"Draco."

It sounded weak compared to his strong, masculine voice. Her voice sounded foreign, something she hadn't heard in a while. Wait, impossible. She had come outside for some fresh air, and to get away from her fellow classmates. Everyone was in pure bliss, graduation day was tomorrow. The day they would rid themselves of this castle that had been their shelter for the past seven years to face the world. A year ago she would have rejoiced with them, she would have been ready to meet the world head on with a killer smile that would say, 'Hello, I'm Ginny Weasley try to knock me down.' But that was ages ago, she couldn't leave now. Not when the corridors reeked of Draco Malfoy. Not when the deserted corners echoed her moans as he ravaged her mouth. Where was she to get her daily dose of him in the outside world? How was she to remain in her terrible, fantastic high without these things? How was she to….

"…for you. One last time, a final farewell, you could call it."

Had he been talking to her? What had he been asking? Didn't matter, she knew that he knew he had her at his mercy. Anything he asked of her would be done. No questions asked. She nodded, afraid her voice would betray her inner turmoil. He looked back at her and she could have sworn she saw worry in his eye. Within a flash, it was gone. He nodded, curtly. Businesslike, as always. He took her hand, gripping it slightly harder than necessary, his palms damp with sweat. So he was nervous. What had he to be nervous about? They had done this same thing hundreds of times before, nothing was different, nothing had changed. Not yet.

It clicked. What he had been talking about, why he was so nervous. Of course, nothing had changed but it would would be leaving, but this time their would be no return. Their final good-bye. He pulled her through the grounds, his strides equaling at least two of her own. He looked back at her once they reached a clearing by the Qudditch pitch. The perfect spot. Their spot. He closed the distance between them, pushing his lips to her own. Feather soft kisses trailed along her jawbone, reaching the baseline of her neck. His hands gripped her hips, pushing his own against her. She trailed her fingers up his arms, relishing in the feel of his muscles and scars. His mouth had claimed hers and their tongues wrestled, fighting for dominance.

His hands crept up his midriff, pushing the hemline of her shirt above her bellybutton. She hastily began the tedious work of undoing his buttons, her heart beating faster each time she freed one. Cold broke through her, despite the heated situation she had found herself in. Her shirt was missing, when did he do that? His hands now roamed up and down her sides, accenting her subtle curves. The last button popped free and she pushed the flimsy piece of linen off her lover's shoulders.

"Eager aren't we, Veera?"

Veera. It had been forever since she heard that name roll of his perfectly pink, luscious lips. Most called her Gin. Harry had at least, and that's exactly why Draco refused to call her such. She was his, and he made sure she knew it. Hands explored, mouths pressed against bare flesh, tongues tasted. Her senses felt as of they were on fire, heightened to a new level. Only being with him could ever make her feel like this. She would have been willing to bet her own life that sex with anyone could never compare to sex with her Draco.

She was on her back, both seemed to have lost their jeans in the last few minutes she had been in thought. He noticed her confused stare and smiled her favorite smile. It was more of a smirk, a Malfoy trait he used to say.

"You seemed a bit daze so I disposed of my trousers as well as yours."

With that being said, he attacked her clavicle, her neck being his favorite places to pleasure. Dean had been a leg man, Michael an ass man, Harry a breast man, but Draco Malfoy was defiantly a neck man. He picked her up just an inch of the ground and snacked his hands to the middle of her back. With expert hands, he unhooked her bra clasp and let her breasts tumble freely into his outstretched, eager hands. He took the soft mounds of flesh and kneaded them. His took his calloused thumb and ran it over her hardening nipple. He pushed his painfully hard member against her leg and she sighed.

He took the hardened bud into his mouth, allowing his tongue to swirl over it. He repeated with the other breast as he used his knee to push apart her legs. His teeth hooked on to her knickers, dragging them slowly down her legs. He removed his own boxers and returned to give her a passionate peck. He was rigid, even with her obstructed view she could see he needed her.

"You ready?" he asked, rather strained in fact.

"Yes."

With that he reached down and positioned his penis' head near her entrance and pushed into her. He began moving, trying to find the right rhythm. What their minds forgot, their bodies seemed to remember. His hips quickened to the pace she liked best and he closed his eyes in ecstasy. He was close. So was she. He moaned, capturing her lips with his own. She called his name, rolling her head to the side as she felt her walls clenching. Feeling her letting go, he allowed himself to go over the edge as well. When their orgasms were complete, he pulled out of her, rolling over on his back from exhaustion. She transfigured a nearby spare piece of parchment into a suitable blanket and threw it over both their bodies as she nestled her head into the crook of his arm. They didn't fit perfectly, her head was slightly to big to fit comfortably but sometimes love was learning to see the imperfections perfectly. As she drifted off to sleep, she didn't think of what was to come. How tomorrow he would leave her, this time for good. How her supply wasn't running out, but coming to an abrupt halt.

After all, has a heroin addict ever wondered what it will be like when the high was over and they finally crashed?

Author's Note: So, tell me what you think. I'm thinking of expanding on this story, I always imagined that Ginny would get pregnant... But I'd like some feedback first. :) Critic is loved, especially about the format. I'm still trying to get the hang of that.