A/N: This chapter depicts acts of sexual violence and may be a tad bit squickly. You have been warned.
The next day, I woke up feeling alert and refreshed for the first time in weeks. Even though I knew I was going to spend the day searching for Draco Malfoy, the new weapon I'd got from Hermione, along with the file that Harry had given me, gave me a newfound feeling of hope. I had a way of tracking him and a way of defending myself that I hadn't had previously. But before I did anything rash, I figured it'd be wise to speak to a professional who would know if I was heading in the right direction with my investigation.
I owled Blaise before hopping into the shower, asking him to meet me at the same diner we'd had lunch in the day before. I hurried up and got ready, drying my hair with my wand and dressing myself in a pair of jeans and a black top. I figured I'd stay in Muggle clothing in case my investigation led me outside the confines of the Wizarding world. Though I was new to bounty hunting, I figured that the Statute of Secrecy did not always prevent the non-magical citizens of Britain from witnessing certain things that may have been pertinent to my case.
With the crack of Apparition, I found myself outside of the diner and immediately saw Blaise occupying the very same table we had sat at during our last meeting. He was easy to spot despite the fact that he was dressed entirely in black, camouflaged and inconspicuously sitting in a corner. Like me, he was also dressed in Muggle attire. Briefly, I wondered if it was for the same reason, but the thought was fleeting as I took my seat across from him. I'd already decided that I would say nothing until he decided to look up. I wasn't going to play games with him today; I didn't need his help exactly, and I was in too good of a mood to allow myself to get riled up by his tests of my patience. No. This time, I was going to wait for him to speak with me before I paid him any mind.
He looked up immediately, smirk in place on his dark face. His normally dark eyes looked at me brightly. "Afternoon, sweetheart," he said, giving me a mock salute. "To what do I owe the pleasure of seeing you again today?"
My face dropped and I glared across the table, wondering what it took to get this man worked up. He was my polar opposite – calm, collected, and even-tempered. One day I'd figure him out, I decided, but for now I'd just appreciate his naturally easy personality and see if he could give me some advice about my next step. I shook myself out of my irritation and pulled Malfoy's file from inside of my bag. Thumbing through the pages, I retrieved Marcus's witness statement and slid it along the wooden surface, careful to not show him that I had gained access to Draco's permanent record. I wasn't sure why – perhaps it was out of natural instinct to keep Harry out of trouble – but I decided to keep that bit of information private for a while.
Blaise's eyes scanned over the statement for a few moments, and then he slid it back to me. "Marcus Flint?" he asked, lifting an eyebrow. "I'd be careful about that one, sweetheart. He's a little too dangerous."
"Well, I don't remember him much from school," I said conversationally. "I remember he wasn't the nicest bloke in the castle, but I don't recall him being anymore heinous than any of the other Slytherins." I added the last bit pointedly, wondering if I could get a rise out of him.
He looked amused at my barb, but his expression sobered quickly, eyes set and determined as they peered upon me intently. "You don't remember because he never had eyes for you, Weasley. But believe me; if Flint sets his sights on you, you'd better lay low."
I wasn't sure what he had meant by that, and I also wasn't sure that I wanted to, so I allowed Blaise's cryptic remark to slide briefly. "Anyway, I know this bar in Diagon Alley – La Boehme. I remember a lot of Malfoy's crowd used to spend time there right after Hogwarts." I became a little flushed as I said this, not wanting to disclose to him that it was also the location that I'd lost my virginity to Malfoy – against the wall of a stall in the men's restroom. I cleared my throat – hoping the thought of that experience would vanish along with the silence – before continuing. "I thought that I'd go there and check it out – see if maybe Marcus has got something to say that might lead me towards Malfoy."
Blaise nodded as he sipped his water. "Probably would be a good place to start, but I wouldn't let yourself be alone with him."
"Well, of course not," I replied dismissively, not really heeding his warning.
He arched his eyebrow again and continued to stare at me for a few more long moments. "I'm not sure that you're taking this quite seriously enough."
"Why do you even care?" I retorted. "The only reason you meet with me is because you owed Pansy a favour."
A humourless chuckle escaped his lips. He tossed a few galleons on the table before standing up abruptly and graciously. "I guess I shouldn't care then. Good luck with your case, Weasley."
He was gone before I could even respond to him, and I was left alone and confused.
If I was being honest with myself, it should have been clear that I wasn't entirely sure what Blaise had meant by what he'd said. The obvious implication was that Flint was violent or underhanded, but since he never fully explained – and since I'm a delusional, revenge-crazed woman who has got no sense of self-preservation – I decided to pretend as though our conversation had never happened. It wasn't like I'd had any intention of getting close to Marcus Flint before I'd spoken to Blaise, anyway.
La Boehme was a quaint little establishment off the strip in Diagon Alley where many of the rich and the pretty would gather frequently for drinks after long hours at the office. I knew, without a doubt, that both Daphne Greengrass and Marcus Flint would be there on any given Friday night. The bar had opened during my seventh year at Hogwarts, and after I'd started seeing Malfoy occasionally, it had become a regular place for me to patronise. The rest of what I'd done there with Draco was something I'd have liked to keep to myself.
I decided to wear my best dress – a strapless little black number that came down to my mid-thigh, accompanied by black stilettos – and allowed my red curls flow freely to my mid-back. Channelling all of my confidence, I strutted into the swank pub, eyes searching for my targets.
Almost immediately, my eyes fell upon Daphne, dressed to impress in a skin-tight red dress and heels that left no curve of her body to the imagination. She was sitting alone at the bar, nursing her drink. It was strange, in my opinion, that she did not look at all upset, especially given the fact that her sister had been missing for a few weeks. Quite the contrary, she was laughing heartily and flirting with the brunet who was serving drinks. For someone who should have been concerned, she looked quite happy and carefree.
I took a seat beside her, smiling politely as I ordered myself a vodka soda. I sipped it slowly, hoping and waiting for the blonde girl beside me to notice me first so that we could strike up a conversation; I really didn't have the money to be drinking all that much, besides, so I hoped I wouldn't need to order more than one. It was apparent after only a few minutes that the woman had no desire to acknowledge me. With a heavy clearing of my throat, I decided to take the plunge.
"Hi there!" I said, my voice coming out as an awkward, high-pitched squeal. I really didn't have much time to waste, and Daphne did not appear to be particularly interested that someone had sat down next to her.
The blonde turned to me, eyeing me disdainfully with pursed lips. "Can I help you?"
"Oh, you might not remember me, but we went to Hogwarts together." I doubt that I could have been more awkward if I had tried to be.
She cocked her head to the side slightly, her eyes narrowing as she studied me for a long moment. "In particular, no, I do not recall your name. But you're obviously a Weasley – which begs the question, why are you here?"
"I should wonder the same about you. I know if one of my siblings had disappeared, I'd be looking for them – not getting drunk off my arse." In all honesty, I had not meant to say something rude; it just happened.
Daphne looked more than amused. "Well, well, Weasley, it looks like you've got some teeth." She leaned in close to me. "But, if one of your siblings disappeared, would you even realise? There are so many of your lot, after all…"
"Get some new material, would you?" I snapped.
"As soon as you have an elsewhere to be, I'll quit remarking about your family. You would do well to remember that you sat down beside me, didn't you?"
"I just thought that –"
"Do us all a favour and leave, Weasley," Daphne retorted with narrowed eyes. "Your kind is not – has not – ever been welcome around here. If you think that having some little fling with Draco Malfoy all those years ago gives you iany/i sort of standing, you're dead wrong."
By that point, I was seething. Who did Daphne Greengrass think she was? She wasn't particularly clever or smart, and she had never been nearly as popular as Pansy or some of the other Slytherin girls in her year. She wasn't even pretty!
Well, all right, that was a lie.
I opened my mouth to speak, but I never got a chance to.
"Is there a problem here?" A cool, male voice sidled up between us, immediately easing the tension between myself and Daphne.
The voice had come from my left and, luckily for me, I had braced myself before I turned to him. It was, of course, Marcus Flint.
I truly did not remember him much from school. He was a few years above me, and we had no friends in common at that time. It wasn't until much later, when I had begun hanging around Draco, that Marcus and I had ever formally met. While a lot of women found Flint to be handsome, I had never found him to be particularly so. His skin had a sallow tint, his teeth were crooked, and his build was much too thin and gangly for my taste. There was something about him, though, that made people feel like they could trust him immediately. It was a quality that he shared with Draco and Blaise. It must have been a Slytherin thing, I decided.
Unfortunately for Marcus, I had learned many years earlier not to trust Slytherins.
"There's no problem," Daphne said, batting her eyelashes shamelessly at him. "I was just trying to get the Weasley girl –"
"Ginny, actually," I added, not caring how rudely.
"– to leave me alone, but she hasn't quite seemed to grasp the idea."
My cheeks reddened at her words, and they turned an even brighter shade when I realised that Flint was staring at me – smiling, actually. "I just thought she looked lonely," I said, shrugging one shoulder. "I, well, I heard that her sister was missing, and I thought she might want a friend. I do know what it's like to lose a family member, after all."
Marcus's eyes flashed at the mention of Astoria, just long enough for me to notice it at all. Still, it was enough for me to know that something was there – something he was pretending or hiding. "Ah, yes," he said after a moment, his throat briefly sounding dry. "Our little Daphne has been quite broken up for a few weeks now. How nice of you to care, Ginny."
I bit my lip. This was my only chance. Next time I saw either of them, I could not use the same excuse to stir up a conversation. If I was to ask about the night that Theo was killed, it was going to have to be now. "So, you knew Astoria well, too?"
This time, his expression did not budge. "An old girlfriend, actually," he replied coolly, eyes narrowed.
"I see. I remember – when – well, I recall that she wasn't close with a lot of other Slytherins. Mostly – "
"She was close with Draco," Daphne offered, smiling slyly at me as I stammered over my words, "particularly after he had got into the Academy."
Even though I knew that she was trying to stir me up, I also realised that what she had said was likely true. Why else would Draco have stormed through Theo Nott's apartment building if he hadn't at least been friends with Astoria, or cared about her in some way? I didn't miss Daphne's insinuation though; Draco and Astoria had got together sometime after Draco had his fling with me. It was a dirty blow, and I felt it. She kicked me where she knew it would hurt, and it did.
It must have been obvious that I had been affected by this, because Marcus suddenly cleared his throat, bringing me back from my reverie. He set a few galleons on the counter, presumably paying for my drink, and gently tugged on my elbow. "Why don't you and I go for a walk, yeah?" he suggested.
With one last glare at Daphne, I allowed myself to be led from the room.
My hand was in the crook of Marcus's elbow as we exited La Boehme and walked onto the main street of Diagon Alley. We went quite a ways down the street towards Knockturn Alley; I recognised the surroundings as he pulled me further and further along the way. With a hint of trepidation, I spared a glance at the man walking beside me. His face was much harder than it had been, and his eyes were dead set on looking straight ahead. It went against everything I knew – every instinct that I had – to allow myself to be led into a dark place with a man I didn't know, and suddenly I felt very uneasy. Blaise's warning of staying away from Marcus also began to flood through my thoughts. Marcus's expression, the location, and the situation altogether proved that I had made a mistake in letting my guard down, however briefly, because of what that cow Daphne had said to me. I attempted to pull out of his grasp, but I realised immediately that I was in trouble when his hand grabbed onto my upper arm with a vice grip.
With no further warning, I was pushed against the side of a redbrick building, marred by rust and mould. My heart rate began to increase when I realised that no one was around and that I had a fully grown and clearly dangerous man pressing up against me, eyeing me with predation. I opened my mouth to speak, but I was cut off by his lips pressing into mine fiercely.
I pushed him back – or, I attempted to. But he was too strong. His hands were pressed into the wall on either side of my head, and his lips were moving roughly against my own. It was unpleasant and intrusive, and I didn't like the feeling of helplessness that was beginning to overcome me.
His lips began to trail down the side of my neck. He sucked on my tender skin so hard that I winced in pain. His hands pressed into my arms as I desperately tried to push him away from me, trapping me against the wall. I could feel the jagged edges of the bricks digging into my skin, but that pain seemed miniscule once his hands began to wander even further downward, around the hem of my dress. The pain subsided as the fear of what he planned to do next began to take over.
A cool breeze hit my bared leg. I could feel him fingering the edges of my knickers, and so I pressed my legs together tightly, trying to keep him from touching me, causing him to respond even more forcefully. His other hand had found the fabric covering my left breast and had pushed it aside. I cried out at the unwanted contact, my whole body protesting against his ministrations. My breathing felt constricted and my heart began to pound as he continued to run his hands over me. I felt disgusting and used as helplessness washed over me.
"Please!" I cried, fidgeting and struggling against his hold. "Please let me go!" The pounding in my chest increased tenfold, and it felt as though my ribcage was going to break open. I was too afraid to cry, and my wand was stashed away inside my dress. It had been foolish of me to walk with a man, who I had strongly suspected to be untrustworthy – towards Knockturn Alley – with my wand out of reach, and I knew it. I had really put myself in a spot, and my only hopes were to fight him off or to beg him to reconsider. "Please!" I pleaded once more.
He bit my right breast through the fabric of my dress, hard. "Are you turning me down, Weasley?" he chided mockingly. "Are you trying to say you're too good for me? Nobody ever turns me down, little girl. Nobody."
"No!" I exclaimed truthfully. "It's nothing like that; it's got nothing to do with you!"
He smirked at me as he stood up, his expression nothing short of sinister as he ran his fingers down my face. His other hand had gone to hold my wrist against the wall. "So, who is this about then? Is this all about Draco?"
"Please –"
I was cut off by a slap in the face, followed by a bright flash of green light being emitted from a short distance away. Marcus had gone flying off me, and I crumpled to the ground, hand over my cheek where he had hit me only a moment before. It had started to rain, almost as if on cue, and I could barely register anything that was going on around me, save for a few flashes of light coming from two separate wands and a few indiscernible noises that seemed to have been accompanying a duel.
I started to run, but my high heels were not conducive of the activity. Breathless – and with aching feet – I crouched on the ground nearby another building. I had only made it about a block before I'd lost the ability to move, and I it would be unwise to do any magic until I got my emotions under control. I felt like I'd been there forever, hunched pathetically in a corner, when I was suddenly pulled from my reverie and shoved back against the wall. For a second, I thought Marcus had come back to continue his attack on me, but when I opened my eyes, I realised it wasn't Marcus at all. It was a man with light hair and a pair of haunting grey eyes.
It was Draco.
"Where the fuck is your wand, Weasley?" he shouted.
I opened my mouth to answer, but nothing came out.
He shook me hard. "Where is it?"
"It – it's in my dress!" I managed to sputter, reaching down my leg to grab it. "I couldn't get to it before; I didn't know I was in any danger!"
"Right, because a bloody Slytherin who drags you into Knockturn Alley is someone to scoff at, isn't it?" He let go of me and ran a shaking hand through his rain-drenched hair. "Merlin, woman, I'd always known you were a bloody pathetic excuse for a Pureblood, but I thought you were smarter than that."
I bit my lip to stop it from quivering. He was right, but I absolutely refused to admit that to him aloud. "I didn't know."
"Well, let me give you a little lesson, Red. Marcus has been accused of rape five times in the last two years, and every time someone comes forward, they disappear soon afterward." He was pacing, and it made me anxious to watch such a display of uneasiness coming from a man who knew better than anyone how to keep his expressions neutral. This wasn't him, and it worried me how easily stirred up he had got when he saw Marcus pinning me against the wall.
"You – you knew he was going to rape me, and so you saved me?" I tried to keep my voice steady, but my heart was pounding even faster and harder than it had been when the older man had had me pinned against the building.
Draco stopped moving, his back turned towards me. "I knew exactly what he was going to do," he answered, his voice quiet and harsh. "I've known that bastard for years, and he has never been trustworthy." He turned to me, his expression a mixture of irritation and something else – something that I couldn't identify, until he suddenly appeared angry. "And I've been tracking him for weeks now, and you've bloody well blown the whole thing wide open by being stupid enough to let yourself be alone with him! Don't you know anything, Weasley?"
And then it all clicked in my head. I understood then why Draco had really been watching Marcus, why he'd had even the slightest inkling that I was in any sort of danger. My eyes narrowed as I took a few steps towards him. "And how about Miss Astoria Greengrass – you know, the girl you started seeing when you joined the Academy? How does she fit in?" I was not even the slightest bit abashed by what I had been suggesting.
He rolled his eyes. "Christ, Weasley!" he exclaimed. "It's been years since you and I have even spoken, and you are still bloody hung up on the fact that I didn't want a relationship with you after I shagged you?" He covered his face with his hands briefly, trying to calm himself down before he continued speaking. "Yes, I dated Astoria. We were friends – you knew that – and then we became more. She and I didn't work out, and we broke up before I even finished at the Academy, but we stayed friends. I don't fucking know what you want from me! You and I weren't ever serious, Weasley, and you act like we were betrothed!"
"I want to know why you cared that Marcus had me in this alley," I shot back, not missing a beat. "If I meant so little to you, if what we had all those years ago meant nothing, then what in the bloody hell were you helping me for? Why can't you just admit that –"
"That, what? That I've been secretly harbouring feelings for you all these years? Get a grip, Weasley!"
I shook my head, knowing full well that I wasn't going to get anything out of Draco. There would be no confession of undying love, no apology about regretting how he had treated me all those years ago, and certainly no admittance that he'd followed Marcus down the alley because it was me who was in danger. He'd have done the same for any stupid girl. No part of my fantasy existed, and I needed to let it go.
"Listen, Weasley, it's raining pretty hard. Why don't we get you home, all right?" His voice was a bit softer, and it might have even held a bit of concern. His face looked tired and worn, and his body language agreed.
"I can get home by myself," I insisted.
"You were attacked, and like it or not, you need to get yourself looked over. Why don't you Apparate us to your flat, yeah?"
I shook my head in response as the tears began to well in my eyes. I had, in all ways that counted, been violated and humiliated in front of a man who couldn't care less about my well-being, a man who I'd spent the last three days attempting to bring into custody because I was too childish to just admit that I held a grudge over him. I didn't want any of his help, and I certainly did not need or want his pity.
I started to walk away as the tears began rolling down my cheek. I'd only taken a few steps when I felt his hand placed firmly on my shoulder, halting my steps. The rain was pouring in buckets, so I turned around, all set to pretend that any moisture on my face had come from precipitation, not my extreme emotional state. My eyes met his for a moment before I shook him off, attempting to storm away a second time.
"Stop, Weasley!" he exclaimed, his fingers digging into my arm, bruising my pale flesh.
Without thinking, I turned around and slapped him across the face. "I was nearly raped just now, Malfoy," I hissed. "And don't you ever think that it's all right for you to put your hands on me."
To his credit, Draco kept his chin high and his expression even.
Had I been thinking rationally, I probably would have known that he had meant no harm to me. But I wasn't rational. My big plan to discover the mystery in this investigation had been unravelled before I'd even got near step two, and now the man I was supposed to be turning in was trying to stop me from running away from him. It was all too weird, and I hated that a part of me didn't want Draco to get into any trouble. A big part of me wanted to just fall into his arms and have him tell me that he'd protect me for the rest of my life. But the rest of me knew that those thoughts were nothing more than a silly, childish fantasy from a girl who never could grow up.
I swallowed hard. "Draco, please just leave me alone." My voice was rough and emotionless.
"If you don't want my help, that's fine, Weasley," he hissed, taking a step towards me, his hospitality obvious worn thin. "But this is your only charity from me. I'm not going to help you again. Next time you're stupid enough to get hurt, I'm not going to even consider coming to your rescue. I'm not your fucking prince, and I never have been."
The look of pure contempt in Draco's eyes broke my heart, but I stood my ground. "I didn't ask for your help this time."
His eyes raked over me once again, taking in my pathetic and dishevelled appearance. My dress was hanging off my shoulder, my left breast was partially exposed, and the hem of my skirt was riding up on my legs. My red hair was dark and matted against my face because of the rain, and my face was broken and torn. I was the very definition of pathetic, and we both knew it.
Instead of waiting for Draco to respond, I decided to give myself the last word. I Apparated back to my flat, attempting to dismiss all thoughts of that wretched experience from my mind.
Shaken, battered and flustered, I walked up the stairs to my third-floor flat. I could have Apparated or used the lift, but I decided I needed the few seconds to clear my head. More than anything, I wanted to take a hot bath, sit down with a cup of hot cocoa, and fall asleep listening to the Wireless. My whole body ached, my head hurt, and I felt cheap and used.
My plans for a night of solitary bliss were put to a halt when I stepped onto the third floor and saw that I had a visitor standing outside my door.
Harry.
He stood with his hands in his pockets as he looked down at his feet. His messy black hair was damp – presumably from the rain – but his clothes were completely dry. It was likely that he'd been there for a while, waiting for me to return.
I sighed loudly to make him aware of my presence.
His eyes snapped up to lock with mine. A small smile began to form at the corners of his lips. "There you are."
"All right, Harry?" I asked, pulling out my keys and my wand to unlock the door. "I was planning to take it easy for the rest of the night. I'm not really in the mood for company."
The brightness of his green eyes dimmed as he took a step back to eye my dishevelled appearance. My dress was still askew, my hair was a mess, my eyes were red, and my face was puffy. He swallowed visibly. "Are you… all right?" he asked tentatively, obviously being cautious of how he spoke to me. Harry knew well enough that I had a temper and that I would not hesitate for a second to throw him out of my building.
"I'll live," I answered dully as I opened my door.
I left the door open, wordlessly inviting Harry into my flat. There was no sense in being rude to him. He hadn't done anything to me, and besides that, I knew he'd tell my mother that something had happened to me. That was all I needed. Molly Weasley's head would have been in my fireplace before I could say "Floo powder."
As expected, Harry followed me in and shut the door behind him. I heard him lock the door with his wand and then twist the deadbolt. It was obvious that he wasn't planning to leave anytime soon, so I put on a double pot of tea before walking into my bedroom to undress.
Wincing, I peeled my wet clothes off myself. I could finally feel the bruises forming on my pale skin, and part of me considered using my wand to heel them. But I decided not to. I wanted the constant reminder of what Flint had done to me – to serve as my motivation and determination to nail him, and to remind me that I should have listened to Blaise's warning. I knew that Draco Malfoy should have been my top priority, but as angry as I was with that bastard, I couldn't find it in myself to think about him. No matter what he'd said – or what I had – he had saved me from being raped, and I couldn't help but feel grateful about that.
I must have been standing in front of my bedroom mirror for a long time because the next thing I knew, Harry was standing in my doorway. I wrapped my arms around myself to cover my bare skin. It was silly, I knew. It wasn't like he had never seen me undressed before, but it wasn't about being naked. It was about the bruises and the physical trauma, and I just didn't want him to see me like that. Not Harry, not anyone.
His eyes were soft as he sat beside me, running his hands along my shoulder. "Let me look at those, Gin," he said softly. His fingertips brushed over the marks. "Who did this to you? Was it Malfoy?"
A part of me wanted to lash out and tell him that Draco had saved me from further injury, but I didn't want him to think I was completely incompetent because I had not been able to bring him in after we had been face-to-face. I said nothing, only shrugged his hands from my shoulders. I couldn't stand the thought of being touched, and I hated how weak I seemed.
"Please don't push me away." Harry's voice was quiet and pleading. "I can help you – I'm an Auror. I can arrest whoever hurt you."
"It's not your battle, Harry," I whispered, my voice hoarse. "Leave it alone."
He sighed, resigned and frustrated. "You know, it may not be my battle, and we may not be married anymore, but I still care about you, Ginny. I will always care about you, no matter how much you try to push me away." He paused, grabbing my hand and lacing our fingers together. "I still love you."
I yanked my hand away from him like I'd been attacked. I couldn't listen to him – not after the night I'd had, not after having Draco break my heart into a thousand pieces. "I don't, Harry," I said coldly. "We're friends. I don't love you like that."
"Bollocks," he said, putting my face in his hands and forcing me to look at him. "You and I will never be friends. We can't be." He touched the handprint on my cheek gingerly. "Who hit you? Who hurt you? God, Ginny, let me help you for once! If you hadn't pushed me away so much, we'd still be together. We'd still be happy and married, and this would never have happened!"
"So it's my fault then?" I demanded, getting to my feet and towering over him. "I asked to be attacked against a building in Knockturn Alley?"
"No, I didn't mean –"
"I suppose I wanted to have his hand up my skirt, too, didn't I? I wanted him to tear my dress?"
"Stop it, that's not –"
"I didn't ask for anyone to hurt me, Harry," I said, my voice shaking and my eyes starting to well with tears. "I – I didn't want him to touch me, and you – you think it was my fault."
He stood, wrapping his arms around me, pulling me tightly against him. His hands ran over my bare back soothingly, kissing my shoulders and my hair and the sides of my face. Even though I desperately wanted to fight him, to push him away and to stop treating me like I was his to worry about, I couldn't bring myself to. I let myself cry and buried my face into his chest, clutching onto him for dear life, as if I'd dissolve into nothingness if I couldn't feel him against me. I knew it was a mistake – knew that I'd regret it later – but at that moment, I couldn't let him go.
"It – it wasn't him," I said through my tears. "Draco. He – he wasn't the one who did – did this to me."
"Shh, it's all right," he cooed soothingly. "It's all right. Tell me who it was."
I shook my head. "I can't."
His hands gripped my shoulders, pulling me back from him slightly so that he could look at me better. "Ginny, listen to yourself. This isn't you! You're falling apart. You're letting someone who deserves nothing get away with hurting you. The Ginny I know would never let that happen. Why? Why are you protecting him?"
A strangled sob escaped my lips, and I fell into his arms, my weight falling onto him completely. I felt his arms wrap around me more completely as he sat us onto the bed. He pulled me towards the head of the bed, sliding along with me. He laid us down, still massaging my arms and back soothingly. Against my better judgment, I allowed myself to melt into him, to be comforted by him. I didn't say a word, and before I knew it, his lips were pressing against mine.
I knew I should have stopped him the minute he kissed me, but some part of me needed him. Some part of me needed to remember that it wasn't me who was dysfunctional – it was him. I was lucky to have gotten away relatively free of injury – barring the emotional kind, anyway. I needed to feel wanted and loved as a person, not disgusting and used.
My senses began to go into overdrive as Harry began to remove what clothing I had left, and despite everything, I began to unbuckle the clasp of his jeans. It didn't take long before he was pressing into me, my body taking over as a soft gasp escaped my lips. I hadn't been with anyone since him, but everything about our intimacy in that moment felt different – foreign. Before, sex had been something to do because we were in the right mood. But this was an entirely different animal. I needed Harry. For the first time, I needed him so that I could feel whole.
We finished after a short while, and he got comfortable on his side next to me. His arm was still draped over me, and my body was angled slightly towards him. I felt his fingers tracing delicate patterns over my skin as he kissed the bruises and the bite marks marring my pale flesh. A pang resonated in my chest as I realised what had just happened.
Harry loved me, and I'd used him.
Several hours went by before I was finally able to fall asleep, but the guilt had not subsided even in the slightest.
A/N: I apologise, DG shippers, for the Harry/Ginny interaction here, and I know some of you might be a little angry, but I promise promise promise that this is necessary for the Draco/Ginny interaction to come! Please review - it just makes me so happy! :)