Ginny screamed out, at the top of her lungs. Cried for mercy and attention, but her voice came out silent. Her body remained stiff. Her lips barely quivered. Tom dragged her across the stone floor, her heels scraping roughly, painfully, her limbs and neck flopping about with no semblance of support.
"My pretty little rag doll," he hissed, dropping her arm to the ground, letting her head and upper body give a sickening clunk against the stone. She could feel it resonate through her skull.
Everything ached. Her hair, her scalp, her arm where it was tugged, her bottom where it had been dragged, her heels where they had been scraped. Her insides twisted. She felt her eyes water in frustration, the only outward sign that she had any reaction at all. Her body wouldn't respond at all. Tom had disappeared into the darkness, leaving her in her prison of a body on the cold floor.
"I think it's time to wake up, Ginny," Tom spoke, appearing over her again suddenly. He straddled her hips, the weight of him against her naked stomach making it difficult to breathe, yet she couldn't gasp for the air she needed. His hands found their way around her neck and there was no mistaking him for anyone else. He wasn't Draco. He wasn't a mystery. This was Tom Riddle, the man who became Lord Voldemort, and he was choking the life out of her.
Her vision faded slowly to black but she kept trying to fight the paralysis.
"Time to wake up," he murmured again and Ginny snapped into consciousness with a loud gasp as she choked on her first conscious breath.
.
It was Saturday.
Normally she'd make sure she was at breakfast early, would go for a short flight or some practice with the team, lunchtime, a little revision, and the evening off. Laying in bed after the nightmare, Ginny couldn't get her heart rate to normalize let alone find the will to get up. The sun peered into the tower, passing easily through the curtains of her bed. It looked to be a bright, gray day, not unusual for this time of year. She could hear her dorm mates scurrying about. Should get up. Should get up. Should get up.
She stayed put.
The night prior had been a jolt, stronger than any before. Draco had very nearly killed her, and under strict scrutiny had assaulted her. She didn't want to admit she was disappointed to have woken up.
Draco hadn't gone to Pansy after his night with the Weasley girl. He put himself to bed alone, half-hard as he obsessed over the memory of the night. Her open mouth, her delicate throat, her blindfolded eyes, and the sight of her laid back underneath him appeared behind his closed eyelids in vivid color. It was likely to have been the most erotic experience of his life. He looked forward to reliving it over and over in his father's Pensieve at Christmas.
Still, his ignored conscience chastised him for having used her. Violating her body, despite her willingness in consciousness, was wrong. It was wrong, what he had done. Evil. Perhaps the first evil thing he'd ever done knowing how bad it was. There was no ideology to hide behind, no history of indoctrination, no orders from a faraway Dark Lord. His actions in the Room had been his own.
He hated that it made him feel invincible.
.
Ginny finally roused herself up sometime after breakfast. She made her bed hastily, taking a long shower before dressing in plainclothes. As she folded her cloak with the intention of tidying it away in her trunk, she felt the stiff crinkle of Draco's note from her pocket.
She eagerly slid her finger along the folded seal, tugging the note open as she settled onto her bed to read it.
Pet—
I do hope the waking wasn't too frightful for you. I tried my best to make you comfortable, but I thought it best if I didn't stick around for the aftermath of my misdeeds.
You once asked me to hold you down and use you. Tonight was in the spirit of that request. I enjoyed myself.
Same time tomorrow.
The letter was unsigned, but Ginny still read the words in his voice. There was no doubt to its author. She considered the weight of the message. The admission he wasn't quite making, a fact she already knew, and the perversion it made her twist with inside. He had used her, quite literally. Used her flesh to satisfy his need, fucked her body while her mind rested in idle darkness.
It bothered her more to read the admission than it had to know the truth the night before.
She buried the note deep within her trunk, piling her belongings on top of it, finally adding her cloak before shutting the lid. She could remember doing the same thing countless times with Tom's diary when she was a first year. She'd been deathly afraid someone would find out her secret, compelled to protect her master. How little things had changed.
.
She caught up to Luna in the center courtyard and they agreed stocking up on sweets was the perfect way to spend the day. It would get her out of the castle, if not out of her head. She settled into a carriage with her friend, staring out at the countryside as they began to tug towards Hogsmeade.
"How was your week?" Luna asked cheerfully. "You look a bit tired."
She was tired.
She was tired deep in her bones.
The late nights with Draco had left her exhausted, but she had been no more eager than him to delay or cut back their meetings. "I've been having nightmares," she explained. "They don't let me get much sleep."
Luna nodded thoughtfully at her answer. "I will make you a dream-catcher," she finally resolved. "They work wonders on nightmares."
What about the living ones? Ginny wanted to quip, but she did try her hardest to be sweet to Luna. Not everyone deserved her venom.
"Not the living ones, of course, but the ones asleep," Luna answered with a bright smile, turning her head to join Ginny's gaze out of the carriage towards the forest.
"I'm in the mood for Ice Mice," Luna remarked, and just like that the subject was changed.
.
Draco woke late, unusual for him, but still he rose and dressed wanting a glimpse of Ginny at breakfast if he could get it. He wanted to corner her in the hallway. He wanted to know what he'd done was forgiven.
He was disappointed by Ginny's absence but made sure not to show it, sneering at Granger as her stare rested on him too long through the meal. He was growing tired of living under surveillance.
Hermione quickly looked away, but her gaze returned. There was something off about Draco recently. She wondered what it might be that had him so distracted.
.
Ginny let her fingers run along the crowded shelves of Honeydukes, smiling dully at the usual roar of commotion in the shop. Students ran to and fro with buckets full of colorful candies. She tossed a few packages of sugar quills into her own basket, climbing the narrow staircase to the second story landing, grabbing an assortment of lollipops as she went. Anything to keep her mouth occupied. And free of Death Eater cock, she mused.
"Do you find licorice rope worth the price?" Luna asked, startling Ginny as she appeared beside the redhead.
Ginny let her eyes follow Luna's gaze to the display gestured at, amused at the thought of Luna weighing the cost of sweets like commodities on an open market. 'Tie your friends up in fun!' the display shouted in obnoxious pink lettering. The instant she read the words her wrists began to ache from their bondage earlier in the week.
"I think so," she finally offered her opinion, watching her friend unspool several feet of the licorice, rolling it into a neat corkscrew wheel and snipping the end when satisfied.
.
Colin and Dennis joined their carriage on the way back to the castle, finding easy conversation with Luna about Flying Ermines or some other ridiculous made-up creature. Ginny was grateful for someone to occupy Luna and had tuned out the conversation long ago. She kept thinking back to the licorice rope. She imagined a web of sticky red candy, herself tied in struggle at the center of it. Someone's prey.
"Ginny's been having nightmares too, haven't you?" she heard Colin ask. The daydream of the web faded quickly as she jerked to attention.
She reluctantly nodded.
"Things are getting bad out there," Luna said softly. "It's in the air. I'm not surprised we've all been feeling it. I'll make you a dream-catcher too, Dennis. They really do work wonders."
.
The staircases leading to the dungeons were always deserted on weekends. Still Draco walked the steps with determination, trying to avoid being seen or followed. He gave three short knocks to the door when he arrived at Snape's office. Severus opened the door immediately.
"Mister Malfoy. Come in," he stepped back, motioning to his office in invitation. Draco found himself a seat in front of the desk, settling in as he had so many times. "What can I do for you?" the Professor asked.
Draco carefully thought over his words, feeling slightly nauseous to be asking at all, but once again within him it felt as though desire was overpowering better sense far too easily. The nausea subsided quickly. "I need a sleeping draught. Stronger than I can brew myself. Living Death, if at all possible."
The request seemed to set Snape on edge. Draco watched the man stiffen, shutting his door before settling in at his desk. "That's an extreme request, Draco," he finally drawled, sounding reluctant.
"I'm not sleeping. And when I do it's extremely fitful," he lied. "I doubt I have to vocalize why that is, Professor," he let his hands knot. "If I can not sleep then I can not solve the problem that keeps me awake. Am I being quite clear?"
"That is a dangerous potion, Mister Malfoy. A single mistake in its brewing or dosage and the effects could be disastrous," Snape let his eyes catch Draco's for the first time, holding them. Draco decided to banish the worry evident in them as best he could.
"I am not trying to kill myself," he admitted bluntly, cutting through Snape's polite conversation to the root of his concern. "Even if I was, there are a dozen ways to do that that wouldn't involve you, Professor. But I do not long for death, and I do not long for the consequence it would bring my family. I merely need sleep, dead sleep. The deepest sleep I can get. I have no doubts about your brewing competence," Draco straightened in his seat somewhat, expelling a soft breath.
The two men sat weighing each other's motives for a long moment before Snape rose, walking to a locked storeroom at the back of the office which he unlocked and disappeared into. He returned with two vials: one clear, labeled "Death," the other murky green, labeled "Wiggenweld". He handed the vials over with some trepidation, so Draco mirrored the hesitance as he took it.
It had never been above him to capitalize on someone's emotions for him to get his way, but somehow he felt guilty about misleading Severus, and indirectly involving him in this game.
"No more than two drops to a goblet of water. Allow for ten hours of sleep. You'll fall under within a few moments after intake. Have a friend be prepared to administer you the Wiggenweld should there be any problems waking you," Snape briefed him. "It's very important, Draco. I'm trusting you to be responsible about this."
Trusting me, Draco wondered, why are people always doing that. He was the least trustworthy person he knew. Still, Draco nodded once that he understood the strict directions.
"Is there anything else you'd like to talk about? Any other way in which I can help you?" Severus almost sounded sincere. The guilt multiplied in his chest. Draco remembered his father's letter the day before. Duty. Family honor. He shook his head.
It wasn't about finding the strength to do what had been asked of him, it was about finding the will to live with the consequence.
The potion was about having fun before the inevitable end to his life.
.
Ginny kept close to Ron, Hermione, and Harry as they headed down for supper. She'd spoiled her appetite with sweets, but couldn't find an appropriate excuse for missing a third meal that day. She settled in at the Gryffindor table, purposefully taking a seat facing away from Slytherin.
She could feel Draco's eyes on her back through the entire meal.
.
The Third Floor corridor was chilly in the late night. She regretted not bringing her cloak as she sat on the floor and waited for Draco's arrival. He was late. She stared at the wall that kept her from the room, the wall where the door might appear. She needed so much more than sex now. She was curious what their room might look like now.
The whole day had been driving her mad with preoccupation.
He startled her when he appeared before her, banishing his disillusionment charm as if he'd Apparated to the spot. "Why are you waiting out here? Is the Room occupied?"
Ginny stood slowly, shaking her head as she straightened out her skirt. "I thought if I waited inside it might give you the wrong impression. I've come here to talk," she murmured.
Draco gave a brief nod, but said nothing on the subject, merely taking hold of her arm and having her walk with him down the corridor thrice. He opened the entrance that appeared for her, following her and shutting the doors firmly behind them.
She stared at the room, unfamiliar to her. Gone was their bed, the emptiness, the moonlight streaming in through a high window. What replaced it was an endless sea of objects in storage, shelves and chests and piles of items forgotten or purposely lost. The room was spacious, but dim. She couldn't see ten feet in front of her face in any direction.
Draco stood next to her. "The Room of Hidden Things," he explained softly. He had never been inside, but he knew it was where the Vanishing Cabinet was. He'd avoided trying to find it. Now it seemed even the enchantments of the castle had deemed it necessary.
"I guess we need this more than a bed," she said softly, letting silence envelope her words as her eyes scanned the dusty piles of the room in idleness.
"Are you going to apologize for last night?" she finally found the courage to say.
Draco felt his throat close slightly at the words and he swallowed thickly before taking a shallow breath. "I will, if you want me to. But you didn't stop me, before you passed out. You should have," she could hear the frown in his voice, his tone tinged with something like resentment. "And I'm not completely sure I'm sorry I did it," he admitted.
Ginny nodded hollowly, flicking her gaze to him just once, then away. He sounded honest about that last bit. "I think the worst thing is that I would let you do it again. Which is fucked up. Proper fucked up. Good and proper fucked up," she exhaled heavily, her lungs laboring as she thought of the suffocation the night before. "There are things that are unforgivable that aren't curses. That should be... is one of them."
Unforgivable. Like a killing curse. Or a murder. Like torturing someone with magic, or robbing them of free will.
He thought of the vials in his pockets, one to make her fall deathly asleep, the other to wake her. Something in her tone made him ashamed he'd even brought them. It had been presumptuous, arrogant, to think he could get her to agree to a reprise in good faith. She wasn't his slave anymore. He was sure now that she never had been.
"I don't want to do it again," he lied.
"Good," she whispered, nodding her head once.
The silence of the room swallowed her words again, hungrily devouring the sounds until it was like they had never existed. Draco had never heard such silence, a vacuum of sound. He could hear his own heart beating, he could hear her every breath.
"The war is really starting," she whispered, her eyes finding his, grabbing hold of them. She'd been stuck on the endless loop all day, thinking about him and thinking about the war. Combining the two made it easier to preserve herself and end the whole mess. It was nothing but trouble.
"The war started a long time ago," he spoke in reflex, reaching out his hand to cup her jaw, unable to resist the urge to form a connection. His body gave a tingle when she shut her eyelids and flinched, just barely. It wasn't fear, more like hesitation, but still it triggered something within him. His blood began traveling south, swelling his cock slowly as he thought of the way he'd fucked her mouth the night before. He ran his thumb along her lower lip until she tilted her head into the embrace. He stepped closer to her then and pressed his lips against hers.
Cool basil. Betrayal. Pure fire. Just like the first time. Just like nothing had changed. His kisses had always tasted like betrayal, but before it had been self betrayal: her against herself. Now he was the enemy. She felt his arm pull her hips flush against his, pressing her up against the growing hardness in his trousers, displaying his need without saying a word.
She gripped his wrist, pulling back her lips as she broke the kiss. "Draco," she whispered, taking a step backwards, out of the embrace. "Don't do that."
"What?" His brow furrowed in confusion, not breaking his hold on her body.
"Kiss me like all this meant something."
Her words made Draco's cheeks flush with shame. Shame at his own sentimentality. He let his hand caress her cheek once more, sliding down to grip the side of her neck. Firm, but not violent. Daring her to resist him.
She was strong, stronger than she thought. She just didn't trust herself. He understood the feeling, but this—this little game they had—let both of them drop act. She could admit what she needed, he could take what he wanted, and they walked away clean. Clean, that is, until things had become messy.
You shouldn't want this. What would your family think, the words and reasons echoed in her head why she shouldn't do this. She should pull his hands from her. She should leave the room. She should put this all behind her.
Sod it.
She pressed her lips against his with unrestrained passion, pulling him closer to her by the front of his shirt. He kissed back. They were pulled together in practiced magnetism, his hands immediately roaming her, hungry for her, grazing cloth until they found flesh. Her hands did the same.
Their kiss broke as he tugged her jumper over her head, working on her jeans next in frustration, his lips trailing down her neck as he peeled the denim from her hips. She shoved his cloak off of his shoulders, adding it to their pile before he hastily undid his fly, picking her up by the waist and pinning her to the closed wooden door.
He'd tucked aside her panties and slid inside of her before she had a chance to protest, their frenzied pace cooling slightly the second he was sheathed inside of her again. He let out a hiss of satisfaction and rested his mouth against her freckled skin.
She felt his breath against her chest, warm, open-mouthed, practically panting. He held her firm, pinned against the door as he pulled his hips back and slammed inside of her fully again. She cried out, groping at the wood and stone behind her for something to hold onto as he began to move, hips grinding against hers. Her nails scraped but found no purchase.
His teeth dragged along her collarbone as his cock drove into her, seeking relief deep inside of her tight warmth. The friction was driving him mad, multiplied with every sound she made to encourage him.
Ginny arched her back hard in reflex, causing her to hit her head against the door. She ignored the pain. Her hands fisted in his shirt, gripping him tight as she held on. He pressed his lips against hers in a bruising kiss, moaning into her mouth as her teeth gripped his lip and tugged hard. He remembered she had liked to do that. Blood rushed to the surface of his lip, swelling it as he kept the kiss going, letting it distract him as his hips moved again, thrusting inside of her with force.
His calves strained with the pressure of her added weight and his, but the burn only reminded him to thrust. He pulled his lips to kiss along her jaw, down to her neck where he bit down on her skin with force.
The scream that released from her throat filled the silent room, bouncing off the stone walls and piles of forgotten junk and returning to his ears in echo. He slowed his pace briefly, struggling to hold onto his orgasm as the sound traveled through him.
Her nails found his back then, digging in through the fabric of his shirt, clawing at the muscles underneath. He bit at her skin again, satisfied as she only whimpered now, tonguing the bite in reward to soothe the skin.
He pressed his forehead into the crook of her neck as he focused on his task, his thighs and right arm holding her firm while his left hand fell to her clitoris. Draco guided his his thumb rub over the swollen nest of nerves, once, twice, then in even rhythm with his thrusts.
"Draco," she whimpered, shutting her eyes tight as his hips gave a few shallow thrusts, the added stimulation on her clit driving to a state of pleasureful bone-less-ness. He nodded his receipt of the message and pressed his nose against hers before capturing her lips once more.
His cock, throbbing now, slid in and out of her with slick ease. He could sense her muscles tensing and releasing around the intrusion as she tried her best to stave off her orgasm. He pinched at her clitoris until she let out a moan, her body betraying her mind as she squeezed her eyes shut and held tight to him. She fell apart in his arms, quivering and crying out as the pleasure radiated from deep inside of her. He felt her orgasm squeeze his erection like a tight fist and let go of his restraint. He drove his cock into her tight muscles at a frenzied pace, stilling only once he came, sheathed in her warmth.
Her legs were still shaking as he lowered her to the floor, his body leaning against hers as he too recovered. She could taste the salt of his sweaty skin as he pulled away, laying out his cloak on the ground so they could both lie down. She joined him on the floor only after she unbuttoned a few buttons of his shirt, wanting the skin-on-skin contact.
She rested on his chest, curled against him for warmth in the chill of the room. He cast a warming charm over them and she felt the magic cocoon them like a woolen blanket. It felt like an ending.
Ginny was never naive enough to think anything could have ever come from this, but she still felt it fair to mourn the end. He was the best lover she'd had yet, and their short time together would be with her forever in a romantic way that young loves usually were.
Even if they both managed to live through the war it was likely the winning side would punish the other. Her, for standing with Harry. Him, for the Mark on his arm. One of them was going to be a loser in the end. Their story was always meant to be a tragedy.
"We should go. Before it gets too late," he spoke, but made no movement to end the embrace.
"Okay," she agreed softly, reluctantly standing, gathering her scattered items of clothing to dress. Silence passed between them for a few moments, the silence of the still room, only the zipping and fastening of clothing occasionally breaking the quiet.
"I'm sorry," he finally said. "I am sorry for what I did. I couldn't help myself, but that's not an excuse. I shouldn't have done it. I was being..." selfish.
"Thank you," she said quietly, clearing her throat gently. "For apologizing."
She let her eyes take him in. The man she'd dragged into her twisted needs. She felt transformed now that it was at its end. She wondered if he felt the same, forever changed.
"You should start your club up again," Draco murmured, his voice soft, his brow furrowed. "The Army, whatever it was called."
Ginny felt her mouth grow dry at the advice. "Why?"
"Because I want you to live through it. The war," he managed the words with some difficulty. It had been clear to him for awhile that if he had any hope of a future the Dark Lord had to be defeated, but it was something he found hard to vocalize since he had gotten the Mark.
Then Ginny pressed herself against him in the dark, her lips on his warm and grateful, soft and sorrowful. A last kiss.
"Don't let them mutilate who you are," she spoke softly as she pulled back, her eyes glittering in the low light as they stared into his own. She peered into his very being. He would miss the sensation of being transparent.
He found himself nodding at the advice as she stepped back, and reluctantly disappeared through the door. You either, he thought as she left him alone in the dark