A/N: What to write here? The next chapter will most likely be the last--I have ides for afterward, but if I start to write those I know that I'll never finish. I'll just go with the main inspiration here. Yes, well.
~clockwisevenus

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Ginny woke up feeling sore and tired, but happier than she had been in years. Sure, she had just slept with the man she loathed most out of all people, but--well, who could have predicted that it would one of the most satisfying experiences of her life?

As she had expected, Draco was no longer there, but he had left a pot of coffee on. How considerate of him, she thought wryly, pulling a thin robe out of her closet and slipping it on, hugging it to herself as she sat down, her coffee warm in her hands.

After checking her clock, she realized that she still had almost two hours to get ready for her classes, and used a quick Summoning Charm to get some parchment and a quill from her bag. She stared at the paper for a few minutes, looking for some sort of inspiration so she could write a letter to her mother or to Hermione, but could find none. Somehow, Hallo, Mum, I just shagged Draco Malfoy did not seem like a good way to start a letter.

She sighed, staring at the blank paper dejectedly. At least school wasn't going to be boring.

Over time, Ginny and Draco developed a tentative ship--not exactly a friendship, not a relationship, but they became comfortable in each other's presence, spending almost all their time together. His personality and humour, of course, were no less caustic, and she never let a chance go by if she had an opportunity to aggravate him.

Still, they ended up in her apartment almost every night, ordering various take-out foods and studying--Draco had a skill in Potions, a subject she had never quite mastered, and she had a matching strength in Charms which came, most likely, from Fred and George, who were known to dabble in Charmwork for their joke shop.

Days turned quickly into weeks, and the months, and finally, that holiday season came that Ginny had dreaded most--Christmas.

The letter from her mother came one afternoon while she was sitting on the floor of her apartment with Draco, who was unsuccessfully trying to teach her how to eat with chopsticks.

"I swear to God," she frowned, frustrated, "this is impossible."

"No," he said calmly for what seemed to be the thousandth time by Ginny's measurement, reaching around her and rearranging her hands, his chin resting on her shoulder.

"That tickles," she complained, rotating her shoulder.

Ginny felt his lips form a smile against her neck, and then he was removing the plate and utensils from her hands, along with her robe.

"Just because you're good in bed--"

"Excellent in bed," he remedied.

"Doesn't mean you have to go and show it off at every turn." By then, of course, her robes had already been tossed aside, and he was working on her blouse when there was a fluttering noise at the door, somewhat akin to a knock. "Bloody hell," she growled, buttoning her shirt back up and walking to the door.

A rather irritated owl was sitting on the ground outside, his feathers fluffed in indignation. Ginny knelt and relieved the owl of its burden, dropping a few Knuts into the leather bag tied between its feet. She shut the door behind her with her foot, leaning against it as she opened the envelope. "Oh, God," she sighed, reaching up to rub her forehead.

"What is it?" he frowned, turning around on the carpet.

"Christmas party," she grunted, handing him the paper and watching him expectantly.

"Dear Gin," he read aloud, "we're having a Christmas party this year for family. Harry's going to be there, of course, so there's no need to bring a date--" He broke off, frowning at the parchment. "Doesn't she know you've broken up?"

"Of course she does," Ginny sighed, "but that doesn't keep her from trying. So now I have to find a date, and the only man I've been even semi-involved with is you, and God knows I can't take you--"

Draco nodded, not perturbed at all. "Well, what about Will?"

"That--" she sputtered. "He's my teacher!"

He smiled up at her. "You'll get better grades if you shag him. Besides, he certainly fancies you, and it's not like you'd be going somewhere private." He handed the letter back to her. "It couldn't hurt to ask."

Ginny nodded reluctantly. "True. I'll see about it after class."

"Did you know," Draco said quizzically, "that when you stand like that I can see straight up your skirt?"

***

"Um, Will?" Ginny asked nervously, approaching his desk after most of the other students had left.

"Problem with the homework?" he asked, glancing up with a smile. "I though you were a Charms genius."

"No--actually, it was something a bit more personal." She could feel her face heating up. God. Why did that always happen?

Setting down his quill, he leaned back in his chair, his brow creased in consternation. "Ginny, if this is about harassment, you should speak with the headmaster--"

"No!" she almost yelled, slamming her hands on his desk and leaning down with a scowl. "My family's going to have an absolutely dreadful Christmas Eve party, where my mother will inevitably try to set me up with Harry Potter again, so I need a date for protection and I was wondering if you'd like to come as such." The words had spilled out of her mouth very quickly, and she straightened, surprised at herself.

"All right," he said, nodding slowly as if he was still mulling over the decision. "I'd love to go."

Ginny smiled gratefully and bobbed her head, turning to go.

"Why don't you just take that Malfoy character?"

"Draco?" she said, immediately regretting the use of his first name. She had considered taking him, but... "We don't get along--or, more precisely, our families don't get along. He's practically Harry's antithesis; my brothers all hate him; my dad got into a fist fight with his father, who, subsequently, tried to kill me--"

Will held up a hand. "So your relationship must put quite a strain on both your families," he said matter-of-factly.

Ginny flushed. "We're not involved. Besides, he doesn't--he doesn't exactly have a family, since the war, and mine doesn't even know about the fact that we've--well, but that's personal," she said helplessly, wanting to hit herself for what she had almost inadvertently admitted.

"So, even though you're sleeping with the boy, you're 'not involved' with him?"

"It's not--" she sighed, toying absentmindedly with a ring on the little finger of her left hand, trying to think of a logical way to explain it. "I mean it's not about love. It's just--sex, plain and simple. There's no affection. It's just what ends up happening every now and then when--well, when we need it to happen." She shrugged, feeling somehow dirtier than when she had entered the room. "I should get to class," she said quietly.

Will nodded his assent, and she could feel his pensive eyes on her back as she left.

***

"I blame you," Ginny growled, shutting her door and glaring at Draco, who had, as always, arrived before her.

"Oh?" he said listlessly, leaning against the small, doorless opening that led into the kitchen.

"Don't 'oh' me, Malfoy," she warned, dropping her bag and striding over, grabbing his shoulders and resisting the strong urge to strangle him then and there. "Now Will thinks I'm some kind of bloody harlot, just because I've slept with you."

Unable to resist a smirk, Draco focused his attentions on trying not to laugh. "Is that so?" he asked. "Did you tell him it was simply because I'm an absolutely wonderful shag?"

"I felt that it wasn't my place to distribute that information," Ginny said, glaring at him.

"Too bad," he sighed, shrugging as best he could in her grip. "I'm sure he would have been horrendously jealous. Anyway," he said, kissing her forehead in an attempt to placate her, "I drew you a bath. The water should still be hot."

She sighed, unable to stay too mad at him. "Thank you," she said grudgingly. "Draco, maybe you could do me one more little favor?" she asked, putting on her best oh-darling-please-me face.

Draco cocked his head to the side. "What's that?"

Leaning up, she pressed her mouth against his, moved away before he could react, and licked her lips, her tongue passing over his lower lip as she stared hopefully up at him. "Join me?" she said quietly.

He blinked. "I thought you were mad at me."

"It would be the best way to get back into my good graces," she said with a heavy shrug, taking him by the hands and pulling him along with her.

***

"I swear to bloody God, Ginny, you aren't a tramp. You aren't a harlot. You aren't a slut, you aren't a whore--"

Ginny shook her head, pacing. "You don't sound convincing. Say it again. With bloody conviction, I need to hear it."

"I've already said it--fine! You're not a whore. Look, there's no harm in having a shag every now and then--"

Collapsing next to Draco on the couch, Ginny hung her head tiredly. "I need one. Now. And if Will wasn't going to be here in less than ten minutes, God bloody well knows I would rip your clothes off right now and boff you on the couch."

"You did that last night," Draco said with a sidelong glance, stretching out and crossing his legs at the ankles. "Be creative. Have me sweep you off your feet into the kitchen--"

"In the name of all things holy, Draco, shut up. I have the worst feeling about tonight--the party's going to go horribly wrong; I know it. I can just tell."

Draco sighed, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and hugging her close to him. "Don't worry about it. Besides, if anything goes wrong you can Apparate back here and send me an owl." They both jumped at a knock on the door. Ginny gave one last sigh of regret and stood, brushing off the front of her robes. "Good luck," Draco said, giving her a fond smack a little south of her waist, making her squeal.

"I'll tell you about it tomorrow," she said, looking a little more confident as she stepped out the door. Will glanced in and gave Draco a sour look, and received a wave and a pleasant, self-satisfied grin in return.

"Nervous?" Will asked as he and Ginny stepped off the Knight Bus.

"Yes," she responded truthfully. "It's just a five or ten minute walk from here."

"I can hardly see a thing," he said, his hand groping for hers. "I wish I had thought to bring my wand with me."

She nodded. "Same here. It's fine, though, it's just even road. We'll be there in a little bit."

They said nothing to each other for the rest of the walk, Will clinging tightly to Ginny's hand. She let her fingers hang loosely in his, not wanting to seem pretentious.

"Here we are," she said, gesturing to her lopsided home with a wide smile. "Home. Come on."

Ginny's mother came out to greet them before they were even on the front steps, positively beaming at Will. She only faltered a bit when Ginny explained that he was her teacher. "Oh, that's lovely, dear, do come in--Harry's been waiting to see you all night." She glanced furtively at Will as she spoke about Harry, probably hoping for some antagonistic reaction.

Seeing none, Molly gestured them both inside, shoving her daughter along to Harry, who was waiting with open arms and a poorly masked expression of pain in his eyes. He hugged her for a short while, affecting a smile and a laugh as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and extended his other hand to Will, who seemed to notice the tension in the room.

Slipping out from under Harry's arm, Ginny smiled apologetically at him, and then took Will by the arm and led him into the next room, introducing him to her brothers and father. He seemed to get along wonderfully with Fred and George, so she left him with them, and turned around to find herself face-to-face with Harry. He cast his eyes quickly to the stairs and then back to her, a silent question forming in his eyes. She nodded, and after waiting a moment to make sure everyone else was preoccupied, followed him up the staircase.

She saw the beam of light shining from under her door and stepped into her old room, the familiar scents pervading her senses. Harry was standing facing away from her, running his hands through his thick hair, a nervous habit he had. Ginny closed the door quietly behind her and he turned around, his lower lip between his teeth as he frowned at her.

"Ginny," he began, taking a step towards her. He sighed, stopping and reaching up to push his glasses up and rub the bridge of his nose. "This is a bit complicated. I guess--well, I know--I'm sorry. I was a bit of a prat that day in your flat, and--I'm going to stop now, while I'm still ahead."

"Sorry?" she whispered. "You don't need to be sorry. I was just worried; I assumed you thought I was some sort of--of tramp."

He closed the distance between them, wrapping his arms around her and burying his face in her hair. "That's why I have to be sorry, don't you see? I made you worry--I made you frown. Gin, I wanted to tell you when we--Ginny," he whispered hoarsely, "I loved you. Bollocks to that, I love you."

"Harry," she said, closing her eyes and wishing herself luck. "I'm sorry."

He stepped back, his hands on her shoulders and his eyes wide. "You what?"

"I'm sorry, Harry," she repeated, rubbing her shoulder. "Just because you tell me you love me, you think that I should fall prostrate and beg for you, and--"

"No," he said frantically, "I don't, I--"

"Shut up, Harry! I'm not twelve years old anymore! I've been waiting eight years for you to notice me, and when you finally do, I realize that I was wrong. I don't love you. I didn't love you. God, Harry--I could love you, I think. But I can't right now. I'm too busy; I'm too infatuated, too in love with..." she broke off, frowning.

"In love with...?" he said brokenly.

"Life," she said, although she knew it wasn't what she had been about to say. "Harry," she said, turning the doorknob, "if you let something go and it comes back to you, it's not yours. It's just...broken. Goodbye."

She dashed down the stairs, the tears suddenly spilling from her eyes at the realization of what she had just done. Eight years of her life wasted on Harry Potter. Eight years and she couldn't ever tell him she loved him--why hadn't she realized that something was wrong?

"I'm going home, mum," she said, wiping her eyes as her family stared at her.

"Ginny!" Harry yelled, clomping down the stairs after her. She turned, and for the single moment before she Apparated home, through her own blurred vision, she could see that he was crying too.

~*~*~*~

OBLIGATORY QUOTE BOX:
"If you let something go and it comes back to you, it's not yours. It's just...broken" is a paraphrased Debbie quote from Grosse Pointe Blank. I can't remember the exact quote even though it's only been a week since I watched it.