Chapter 7:

Draco woke up with an aching back the next morning. But it was not his bruised and battered body that he was worried about but the girl lying still on the bed in front of him. Call it guilt, or common human empathy but Draco felt sorry for her. He couldn't imagine what it would be like if he was the one trapped here knowing that his mother died and there was nothing he could do. Moreover, he couldn't imagine what it would be like having to live with the people who killed her. Draco imagined that he probably wouldn't cope, he would probably go mad or kill himself, either way he couldn't imagine living another day knowing that his family was in danger. In that way, he understood her.

Slowly he got up and flexed his back. He walked idly round her cell, which he had done his best (or not) to transform into a room. He walked towards her sleeping frame to examine her. Her lashes were wet with tears which left trails down her cheeks. Her lips were swollen and her breathing was quick and shallow. It looked like there were a million things going on in her head and Draco wondered just what they could be. He wished someone else had killed Ron. It was not exactly the heart-felt regret or noble apology of story books but Draco wished that there was some way he could look at her and know – really know – that her brother's death was out of his control. He could say that it was as much as he wanted until he almost believed it but deep down inside he would know the truth, that he was the one who muttered the curse, and he was the one who stood triumphant over her brother, that he was the one who did this to her.

Her neck was soaking with sweat and Draco mustered up all his courage and pulled the covers down to her abdomen. He looked at the quick rise and fall of her chest, her small round breasts rising with them, her nipples hard from its contact with the fabric. He admired the way her body curved, outwards first for her breasts, and inwards to her waist, outwards again to her hips. Draco wondered what it would be like to follow the curves of her body or to feel the rise and fall of her breasts while she breathed. He traced her curves with his eyes, from her abdomen to her breasts, then her fragile neck, up to her face, and that was when he noticed: she was awake.

"Er… good morning," he said awkwardly.

But she made no move to cover up, no snide remarks, or no response. She just sat there, looking at him square in the face as if she wasn't even really perceiving anything.

"Look at the time," Draco carried on the conversation by himself, "you must be starving! Of course you are. I'll go get you some breakfast, right?"

Still she said nothing, and Draco excused himself from her cell to get her something to eat wondering how on earth he would deal with her.

XX

When he opened the door to her cell with breakfast in hand the first thing he noticed was that she was not in her bed. Instinctively he dropped the platter of food and scanned the room. Plates crashed to the ground and food and drink spilled everywhere. Quickly he looked all around for her, and it wasn't a second later that he saw her at the door, trying as quickly as she would to exit. Draco moved like a lion. He was quick and confident and he grabbed her first by the arm, and then by the abdomen pulling her off the ground and back into the room. It all happened in slow motion for him, even her deafening screams of protest and frustration at being caught.

And then as quickly as that Draco realised the seriousness of the situation and the anger rose within him. He slammed her body down on the bed while she kicked and screamed. He did his best to hold her arms and feet down with his body and he sat squarely on top of her, his hands on her elbows and his knees on her thighs.

"LET ME GO" She screamed, tears streaming down her face.

"SHUT UP" Draco yelled, "SHUT UP NOW."

She quietened down, afraid at having his face just inches from hers.

His voice was slow and calculated but filled with anger when he talked, "What were you doing?"

She made no reply and instead looked away.

"LOOK AT ME" Draco commanded.

She looked at him again, the tears streaming down her cheeks, still she said nothing.

"Do not play with me Weasley. Don't you EVER try to do that again, you hear me?"

She looked at him straight in the face and made no response.

"DO YOU HEAR ME?!"

Still Ginny didn't reply.

"ANSWER ME DAMMIT!"

She squirmed a little in his arms before replying, "Fuck you."

"Know your place Weasley. You're nothing here. If I say you eat, you eat. If I say you move you move. And when I tell you to stay put, you damn well better stay put or I will-"

"Take me," she told him.

"What?" he asked shocked and confused.

"Take me," she repeated. "I know you want me Draco, I saw you looking at me. Take me and then let me go."

Draco's voice was softer when he replied and his eyes darted away from her, "If I wanted you, Weasley, I would have taken you."

"No, you wouldn't," she replied with certainty. "You're not a rapist, just like you're not a murderer. You don't have it in you."

"You don't know me," he growled.

"Take me, right here. I give you permission. I saw you looking at me this morning, you want me. Here, have me. Fuck me Draco, right now. And then let me go home." She arched her breasts higher, bringing them into close contact with his body. His eyes were drawn to them instantly. He wondered if her nipples were hard from adrenalin or arousal. He wondered what they would taste like.

Draco's mind began to reel with thoughts. Images of her naked, her legs sprawled open, her back arched in pleasure, soft moans coming from her lips. He imagined his hands around her breasts, cupping them, his lips on her skin and her lips on his. He imagined what it would be like to be in her, to feel her insides, to push her up against him. He could feel his erection growing.

But he looked at her, as she arched her breasts towards him and he pushed at those images aside. Slowly he got off of her. Wordlessly he turned around and flicked his wand cleaning up the mess he made earlier. He moved towards the door, stopped and said, his back still towards her, "Your breakfast will be cold now, I'll go get you some more. And unless you want to be chained again you had better be seated on that bed when I come back."

He left leaving Ginny to cry in both shame and hopelessness. And when he returned she was there, sitting on the bed. They never mentioned the incident again.

XX