I'm not looking for another as I wander in my time,
walk me to the corner, our steps will always rhyme
you know my love goes with you as your love stays with me,
it's just the way it changes, like the shoreline and the sea,
but let's not talk of love or chains and things we can't untie,
your eyes are soft with sorrow,
Hey, that's no way to say goodbye.
-Leonard Cohen Hey that's no way to say goodbye
Foolish
It was a foolish hope, Ginny realized, moments after it had happened. It had been foolish to hope that Draco wouldn't do it. And it was even more foolish to hope that she wouldn't respond to the soft lips pressed against her own. Delicate lips that hid sharp teeth that would be traveling down her neck momentarily.
Ginny sighed, pressing her hips against his own, her reasons for chasing him lost to those delicate lips now tracing over the harsh bites that had, no doubt, left marks. The softness was a mere illusion, not fitting with the boy who was all angles and extremes.
He never did anything halfway.
It was foolish to hope that Harry–that anyone–would turn the corner, would come running down the hall to find Draco pressing her against the wall as his hands opened her robes. That maybe in his anger there would be some acknowledgment of what was passing now as the two forgotten clung to each other in the corridor.
Ginny was sighing into his touch, glad that he had made it back to Hogwarts, glad that he had been ignored in the uproar caused by Voldemort's death. Tomorrow she would see Harry, tomorrow she would smile for him and the two of them might walk off into the sunset together.
But right now she was foolishly hoping that she and Draco could melt into the wall together and disappear, dissolving into kisses that spoke of more than lust and words that spoke of less than hatred.
Draco's cold hands on her skin brought her to life, as he pushed fabric out of the way hastily and apologized repeatedly. She couldn't make out the words to his whispered litany, but she pressed her lips into his hair as he burned himself into her skin.
And she was flying away, hating herself as she wished for a different past and a different future that involved nothing but the present.
"Gin," he breathed against her skin, pushing her away carefully and taking a small step back. "Come with me?" he asked, his words both a plea and an admission.
She looked up at him and tried to remember why she shouldn't, but there were no thoughts but Draco and no moments that existed outside of this one. She was freed with him, by him.
A quick nod was all it took, and he dragged her down the hallway to the first door. Snape's workroom, empty now that he was dead, achingly quiet in his absence.
Ginny said nothing as Draco closed the door and pushed her against it, claiming her once again. It was foolish, she told herself, to think that his claims held any merit.
But everything with him was foolish. Especially the reckless abandon with which she pulled off his robes, his shirt, his pants. Everything was down to skin and sweat now. There wasn't anything but this sweet truth.
And when they had nothing left to do or say and no sounds stirred but their heavy, satisfied breathing, Ginny stood.
She sighed again, a different type of noise now that it was finished, and began slowly locating various pieces of clothing.
She dressed and was walking away with a ghost of a smile, fighting off the bitterness that would come easily tomorrow, when he caught her wrist.
"Gin," he whispered, pulling her back against his heaving chest. "Stay."
His breath tickled her ear, and the request hung in the air, reverberating off of the silent walls. An image of peace so complete passed momentarily through Ginny's head as she took a deep breath and leaned into his chest. But then is was gone, and she didn't look back as she crossed to the door and disappeared.
It was foolish of them to hope at all.
3
