Author's Note: Chapter Eight!
I didn't even orgasm.
If that wasn't the universe telling me that I'm doomed to live a cursed existence, then tell me what is.
Shudder.
It's been a decade since, and I still have nightmares about it, but I'm sure you're all wondering what followed my closing act.
I'll preface this by saying Harry and Ginny were as understanding as I had always known them to me, and they weren't at all cross with me. Harry had words with Oliver, of course, but that was the extent of it. It seemed their only concern was making sure I didn't leap from the top of Gringotts the next morning and that whomever had taken the photograph would be reprimanded for documenting the worst, most humiliating moment of my life.
But, as we've learned, the rest had yet to unfold.
Later That Night
It was around three hours after I passed out from six glasses of wine too many, that there was a knock on my front door. I groaned in frustration as the knocks persisted, and shouted abuse at whomever had the audacity to disturb me at such an ungodly hour. It was so soon after I had slept, that I was still a little tipsy from all the wine — and not in a fun way. I knew, without thinking, that it can't have been Ginny at the door, She and the groom had already left on their honeymoon, which left one enormous question mark where this visitor was concerned.
I gave up around three knocks later, and crawled on all fours from the lounge to the front door. It took one excruciating minute for me to get there, but the moment I did, I had a gander through the peephole and found a tall, blonde-haired young man waiting for me on the other side.
For a moment, I panicked, thinking he could see me through the peephole, and in turn the state of my hair along with the remains of my eye makeup. Let's not even start on the old, tattered robe fastened around my waist, one that I usually saved for dire situations — such as the first night of my period each month.
Don't judge.
I never claimed to be glamorous.
I did, however, have an irrefutable talent for landing myself in the strangest, most bizarre situations imaginable.
Bearing that and everything that happened over last week in mind, there was nothing I could do apart from open that door and satiate the nerves that had been building in my core for the past minute. Resolved to do just that, I took a deep breath and curved my hand around the doorknob, coming face to face with the man on the other side.
Standing there, dressed to the nines with not a single hair out of place, he reached into his pocket and handed me something.
It was a film canister.
One Month Later
"If it's any consolation, I thought your arse looked great," Ginny offered, pouring some more tea as we sat in the garden of hers and Harry's new home in Godric's Hollow.
I grimaced, stirring a teaspoon of sugar into my cup, before taking a sip. It was a nice afternoon — the sun was out and the birds were chirping — but summer was almost over and I had spent the past month barricaded in my flat. There was no chance in hell I was ready to face public scrutiny so soon after the wedding. In realizing this, Kingsley — present at the reception — had given me leave from work, during which time I retreated to my books in complete solitude.
First, I read the entire works of Jane Austen. I, then, dove into the world of Middle Earth. Finally, I received a letter from Ginny. She and Harry were back from their honeymoon in the South of France. Given that we had much to discuss, she asked me to come over.
Little did she know, there was a startling development to the tale.
"You're hiding something from me," she deduced, eyes narrow. "What is it? What happened?"
I swallowed, trying desperately to think of something to satiate her curiosity, but she knew me too well to fall for my usual tricks. Instead, I decided to tell her the truth and regaled what happened after the reception, leaving out the bit about me drinking myself into a coma.
"Wait —" she paused, setting down her cup for safe measure. "Malfoy? As in, dress shop Malfoy?"
I nodded, still coming to terms with it myself. "It was so bizarre, he just showed up on my doorstep in the middle of the night and handed me a film canister."
"The one with the photograph," she furthered.
"Yes, that one."
Ginny's eyes widened and then relaxed. "I knew it."
"Knew what?"
She gave me an obvious look. "Malfoy fancies you"
I leaned back against the chair, startled. "Pardon me?"
"Ferret Boy wants you," Ginny furthered, smiling to herself. "I sensed it when you two danced, and now this."
"Impossible," I countered, feeling heat prickle the area around my cheeks and neck. "I'm Muggle-born, remember?"
"So?"
"So he's an uppity, prejudiced little pureblood, who probably thinks less of me than the dirt on the bottom of his designer shoes."
Ginny rolled her eyes. "You're forgetting something. Muggle dress shop, anyone?"
"Even so," I persisted. "How can we be sure Malfoy didn't take the photograph himself?"
"Because he was in the loo when it was taken."
My face screwed. "What?"
"You heard me right," she confirmed. "Malfoy was the only one at that reception to have missed what happened, which means he can't have taken the photograph."
"But —"
"But nothing," Ginny interjected. "It's clear that he found out who did it and heroically stole the evidence, leaving it to you. Quite thoughtful, if you think about it."
I fell silent.
"Plus," she furthered. "He simply couldn't tear his eyes away from you the entire night, could he?"
"Ginny," I frowned. "He has a girlfriend."
"Girlfriend? Oh! You mean Daphne's little sister."
"Yes — the tall, thin, gorgeous one."
"Astoria isn't his girlfriend," Ginny clarified, laughing a little. "Malfoy took her to the wedding because she was jealous that Daphne was going."
I arched an eyebrow. "…and you know this how?"
"Daphne told me," the redhead answered. "She's actually quite pleasant."
"Yeah?"
Ginny nodded. "You should come out with us some time."
"Wouldn't that be…awkward?"
"Maybe, but it's better you squash whatever tension there is until it festers."
I considered this and shrugged, drinking the rest of my tea.
It had been a long time, almost four years since mine and Ron's breakup. Part of me was over it, but another part of me still harboured some feelings for him. After knowing one another so long, it was difficult for me to up and forget about him and pretend like I hadn't felt anything.
However, I couldn't hide from my problems anymore. I had to fix things, and befriending Daphne seemed like a fine idea.
Later That Night
There was a nice breeze out, as I moved from the kitchen to the terrace with a glass of red wine and my silk robe flowing behind me. I quite liked the night, and all that came with it — stars and moon and echo for more. I breathed in and out, thinking distantly of what could happen, and how bad I wanted it, until I heard movement behind me.
It wasn't aggressive or dangerous; though it did carry with it an air of mystery.
I turned, and before I could distinguish the identity of this mystery man, I felt his palms on my breasts and his lips against mine, kissing me feverishly and without restraint.
It should have alarmed me, but it didn't.
Instead, I lifted one leg around his waist and tilted my head back, allowing him to devour me under the midnight sky.
"I've always wanted this," he whispered, reaching inside my robe.
Something tingled between my legs, and I moaned against his lips. "Take me," I begged. "Right here. Right now."
The man, blonde-haired and smoky-eyed, spread me across the grass and took me to far, unimaginable places, bringing me to an earth shattering, mind numbing, life changing climax that rippled through my body over and over and over again, tidal wave after tidal wave of pleasure, with one name on my lips, one name to echo the desire burning deep in my chest.
Seconds later, I awoke — head flat against my desk and a puddle of drool around the corner of my mouth. It appeared I had fallen asleep after coming home from Ginny's, but that wasn't the worst part.
No, not even a little.
I swallowed hard and wiped the drool from my mouth.
Did I just have a sex dream about Malfoy?