A/N:This chapter requires a trigger warning. It is not a fluffy chapter. Also, it shifts frequently between past and present, I hope the shifts are clear.
Chapter 28: Their Last Conversation
"We need to talk." She'd confronted him on the train back to school, the day after their group of friends had had a three-day camping trip. Their friends had left to change.
He'd smiled, flirtatious as ever, slipping a hand onto her knee, "Oh really?" His manner had been teasing, but his smile fell as she stiffened and his hand withdrew. He knotted his brow in concern. "What's wrong?"
He couldn't truly think…
"I didn't sleep well last night." She glanced at him with suspicion, trying to read him, but he didn't seem to catch on.
The night before, when they'd finally passed out, the group (eight in all) had formed a clump of pillows and blankets and bodies all sleeping in the front room of the tent.
"Did anyone, really?" His smile was charming, but Ginny wasn't fooled.
"…Do you seriously not remember?" She struggled to keep her voice even, not sure if she wanted to strangle him or start crying.
The night before the night before, Ginny had invited Stephen to share her room in the tent (after the others had fallen asleep), citing the lack of beds. After he was tossing and turning on the floor, she'd invited him up onto the bed, and then they'd chatted. And then she kissed his shoulder. She'd turned over, he'd kissed her neck, and she'd slipped her hand behind her and—assisted. She'd been so distracted by his hands on her breasts, in her hair, the way he bit and licked her neck, she hadn't stopped to think about what exactly she was doing. She'd lived in the moment, caught up in days of teasing and flirting and truth-or-dare confessions of various assorted fantasies…
"Remember what? You mean… like when we, yknow… made out?" He was a little pink, his smile a little embarrassed.
Like that was all they'd done? "No."
Two nights before the night before, Ginny had been subject to the Questionnaire. The list of sexual fantasies and deeds that had been compiled by someone somewhere and had – for better or for worse – fallen into the hands of the bunch of hormonal teens. Ginny had been the only one brave (or stupid) enough to go through every single question, answering as honestly as she could. She wouldn't lie to herself about that night: she'd been trying to flirt. With just about everyone, really. She was a notorious tease, delighting in hinting at possible experiences and theorizing over potential future exploits. Was she interested in x, y, z? Maybe, no, that sounds fun. "It's kind of exciting to think about," she'd said.
"What do you mean?"
Ginny couldn't find a single hint of guilt or even recognition of what she was hinting at. "I was awake."
"Mmmm," she'd heard and felt the rumble of his sleep-like hum where he pressed his chest against her back. She'd opened one eye, facing the tent wall. It was dark. Stephen was behind her, and Vina's head was a foot and a half away, sound asleep. Just out of Ginny's sight, but near enough she could feel their heat and hear them breathing, were the others. But he was nearer still. She closed her eyes again. His hand was creeping around her hip. She let out a slight cough, pretending to still be asleep, but hoping her stirring would scare him off.
It didn't.
A wave of absolute horror crashed over her and she froze. She had to pretend she was asleep. She shifted, as though restless, rolling from her side onto her stomach, away from him, causing his hand to slip from where it had been caressing.
He would realize what he was doing. He would stop. She didn't have to wake everyone up over this. No one had to know.
"What are you talking about?"
"Are you serious? Don't lie to me. I'm telling you, I wasn't asleep."
She'd laid, tense, for a minute or two, trying to make keep her breathing steady. He'd realize how wrong this was. He had to. She was asleep – or, at least, he thought she was.
"…I really don't know what you're-"
"That was not okay."
Ginny had felt herself screaming inside her head as his hand slipped down the back of her shorts. She couldn't move. She couldn't believe this was happening. Her eyes had opened, blinking in the utter darkness, just to verify that she was, indeed, experiencing this.
"…I don't think… I'm not sure…" He seemed flustered, confused, embarrassed.
"Last night- or, this morning, maybe… you…" she clenched her jaw, not sure how to put it. "Y'know… you were…"
After prodding at her, gently, Ginny had made a small sleep-like sound of discomfort and he'd slipped his hand out again. She'd closed her eyes and tried to be relieved. It was over. He'd finally stopped.
Then she heard the unmistakable sound of a deep inhale and she wanted to scream. Instead, she moved in the disjointed motions of sleep, kicking out and turning over, getting her body away from him while turning to put her hands in his way if he tried again. She swore to herself that she would do something. She'd fight back.
"Holy shit. I totally thought that was a dream."
Fuck you.
Fuck you.
Fuck you.
"It wasn't."
She'd lain, her mind still trying to figure out what had happened, for some time.
"Honestly, I was asleep, I didn't realize that was- I totally didn't mean to-"
What the fuck! Why did you do that? HOW could you do that? WHY DID YOU DO THAT?!
"I find that really hard to believe."
All she'd been able to think was that she'd given him the wrong idea. She been the one touching him. She'd addressed the fantasy of sleep sex, as offered in the Questionnaire, as something that had intrigued her.
BUT NOT NOW, she'd thought, screamed to herself, I NEVER MEANT NOW.
"I swear, Ginny, I was asleep. I never would- I am so sorry. I had no idea that that actually happened."
Ginny stayed stonefaced, despite the moments playing on repeat in her head, making her stomach flip and her muscles twitch. "This-" she gestured between them, "Is never happening again."
"I totally understand, I am so sorry, you have no idea. I can't apologize enough. I hoped it was only a dream, I never meant to do that, I swear."
She was quiet for a second. Would she rather have this weighing on her conscience constantly, thinking of it every time she saw him? No matter how disgusted she was, he seemed thoroughly distressed. His apologies were heartfelt and he seemed horrified with what she was accusing him of. He truly seemed to have thought he'd imagined it. She wished she could think that.
Finally, she spoke. "We're not going to talk about this. We're going to pretend this never happened."
He nodded.
"But you're never going to touch me again, okay?"
He nodded again, and opened his mouth to apologize.
"Stop. I'm going to go change. When I get back, nothing happened."
And that was that. They hadn't spoken – alone, or directly to each other – since.
