She felt so dirty.
Never while she was with him, of course. When they were together, she didn't think about the dirty part. There were too many other things in her heart then. Primal, raw things. Things that needed to be sated or she'd go stark mad.
Things that she'd never done before. Things that had never even crossed her mind before.
But when he did them – when he told her to do them, it made such perfect sense. And it felt so, so good.
But after … after, when the inevitable snake-like beast would settled somewhere between her ribs and her belly button, and she'd cringe as the memories flashed before her eyes like moving photographs. Remembering the smell of his skin – which had been so heady earlier – made her stomach turn.
She'd lock the door to her flat and go sit in the bath, letting the water fill the tub and run right out, over and over, as she cried. The tears splashed into the warm bathwater – tears of grief, frustration, anger, and sheer confusion – late into the night.
There was the denial, too. She was smile-faced-Ginny the next morning, cheerfully arriving at work, happily having coffee with Hermione, and telling Mum that everything was dandy.
Then he'd Floo after dinner, and the beast in her stomach would instantly melt into another, more violent creature at the sound of his voice. This beast wanted to uncurl, to ooze into her fingertips and toes, and explode.
And only he could make that happen.
She felt so dirty.
A/N: This is another instance in which I am completely decided that the man involved is Lucius, but I'll be nice to my D/G readers and let you decide it was Draco, if you like. ;)
