caress
//we've all been hurt before
you know we've all been hurt before//
//hurt before
the corrs//
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Ginny Weasley had no idea where she was. Like many times before where she usually had a hangover, she would wake up, and know it. Her head would pound, her arms would have wounds – any evidence would be bluntly in front of her.
And yet, this time, it was entirely different.
Because this time, yes, she could taste the vodka in her tongue. And her lower regions ached in agony. But she didn't care about that.
What she cared about was the fact that she was naked, in the same room she had been in her last hangover, and the person beside her on the bed, his arm wrapped securely around her waist, his breath fanning her neck…was Draco Malfoy.
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There were lights, she remembered. Music, as well. A slow, morbid melody drummed against her eardrums. She knew she was drunk, and she loved it. She didn't know what she'd do without vodka – it was, after all, her favorite addiction in the world. She could swing back her head, slur words, and wouldn't care for another twenty-four hours. The next morning she could even wake up married, or somewhere she had never been before. But the fact that her date, Draco, was also drunk was even more exciting than she anticipated. They were dancing far too close – she could feel his reaction to her against her waist, but she didn't move away. Her arms hung numbly around his shoulders, their legs and knees pressed together, foreheads brushing against each other, talking in tones where nobody could distinguish the words they were speaking. She loved being near him, close to him like this after all these years. She loved that she had worn a thin, green dress that he liked to wander his hands under. Yes, he had been a perfect gentleman at the beginning, but she didn't want him to be like this anymore. She had what she wanted.
They were smashed. Entangled in each other's embraces, moving in rhythm, creating friction that made their bodies swell with both pain and pleasure. She could feel his heartbeat against hers – her pulse was quickening, and her reflexes slow. She was not only addicted to the wineglass she rapidly sipped and asked to fill several times – she was drunk to him, and he was drunk to her – just the way it was supposed to be. But something was wrong. His hands weren't stopping. Even when she whispered 'no,', his hands never stopped. They slid under her dress, nudged her thighs apart…then she collapsed against him, her breath heavy, her world blurred into various colors and pieces. She could feel arms underneath her ankles and back, something was pulling her…
When she opened her eyes, she felt someone's lips against hers, and didn't bother to stop them. She felt dizzy, relaxed and dazed. She wanted to throw up and die at the sensations he was providing her at the same time. She was completely aroused at the feeling of him pushing against her. Her red hair was drenched with liquid from the shattered wineglasses, and was strewn over her face like tiny tendrils of auburn. His lips were gentle and tender, and his hands pondered her sides many times before managing to get her dress off. What happened next, she couldn't remember. She could still hear herself screaming as he thrust into her as slowly as possible – and then – then – everything went dark.
Everything was empty.
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"Draco…" Ginny prompted, grazing his shoulder blade. His eyes fluttered open after a moment's pause before he awoke, his gray eyes boring into hers.
"My God…" she whispered. "What have I done?"
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