She doesn’t know exactly how long they’ve been kissing, and she doesn’t really care. Her legs feel like jelly and the happy joy bubbles that invade her stomach feel as though they’re never going to go away. She likes the sensations he causes; loves the possessive way that his hand roams from her shoulder to her hip.

Her lips are slowly becoming numb and she knows that they will be terribly sore later, but she takes comfort in knowing that his will, too. She also takes comfort in the fact that she will have been the cause of his soreness and that he has been the cause of hers. This seems very fitting to her, this give-and-take, even if she knows that he’s mostly interested in the taking part right now.

She tangles her fingers in the back of his hair, loving the way the strands sift like silk through her fingers. She drops her hand lower and touches the warm skin on the nape of his neck, and feels a wave of satisfaction as he groans softly into the kiss. A second later, his mouth has left hers to trail kisses down her jaw. She gasps, trying to regain her breath, but it is a futile effort as his tongue finds the sensitive skin of her throat.

She lets her hands wander to his shoulders, gripping them once gently for good measure when she feels him sucking on her collarbone. Then she lets her hands drift lower so that she’s touching his bare back. Her fingers seem to be wandering of their own accord, and it seems like every new patch of skin that she touches sets off a different reaction in Draco. He moans, gasps, and increases the pressure of his mouth at every touch. She wonders that she appears to know him so well.

She is sure that he’s leaving a mark on her neck, and she is sure that he is doing it on purpose. Her heart swells at this symbol of ownership. No one has ever wanted her badly enough to leave their mark on her except for Tom, and the mark that he left isn’t one that can be seen by normal eyes.

She is surprised when she feels Draco’s teeth nip gently at the flesh of her shoulder, but before she can react properly, he has pulled slightly away and has propped himself up above her on his hands. The look he’s giving her can only be described as smoldering. Ginny thinks briefly that she’s been reading too many romance novels.

“Wow,” is all he can manage.

She knows the feeling.

“Wow,” she agrees, her voice barely above a whisper. He looks down at the base of her throat, where a red mark the size of his mouth is. He meets her eyes again.

“I left a mark.”

“I know.”

“Are you mad?”

“No.”

“It might not be gone by the time school starts back up,” he reminds her.

“I don’t care.” His mind is reeling. She doesn’t mind the hickey that he’s given her, which is a first in his experience. Pansy always hated it when he left marks on her, and she complained for days afterward about having to use glamour charms to conceal them.

“Do you know the charms to cover it up?” he asks cautiously. Her response will either crush him or make him want her more – if she says that she will cover them, it will feel as though she’s trying to hide her relationship with him from everyone else. If she says she won’t cover them, it’s just like announcing it to the world, and he is quickly discovering that that is what he wants. He wants the entire world to know that Ginny Weasley is his girl.

But most of all, he wants her to know it, too.

“Do you want me to cover it up?” she asks, absentmindedly stroking his bare arm with her fingertips. He can feel the gooseflesh rising on his arm as a result of her touch.

“No.” The answer slips out before he can stop it. Why is it that she always seems to inspire such honesty in him, where he had none before?

“Then I won’t.”

He exhales the breath that he hadn’t realized that he was holding, and he grins at her. She rewards him with the softest of smiles; the kind that makes it seem as though she is thinking naughty thoughts that she can’t wait to share.

He lowers his head, capturing her lips in another kiss. She senses something different about this contact – it’s neither demanding or passionate; it is tender. Her senses are befuddled with all of the things she is feeling, and it is almost emotional overload. She reaches up to pull him closer, and he rests his entire weight on top of her.

As they kiss, Ginny is struck by the thought that this is very much what she’s always imagined a marriage to be like. She gasps and her eyes fly open wide, and Draco pulls away slightly. His eyes are full of genuine concern as he regards her.

“Are you all right?”

“F-fine,” she stammers, her heart beating rapidly. He frowns at her.

“What’s wrong?”

“I just-“ She doesn’t know if she should even tell him what she’s thinking. He is a teenaged boy, she reasons. If he found out that she’d even thought of the word marriage in conjunction to him, it would frighten him, and he might sever contact with her. She is a teenaged girl, and even though she dreams of marriage and family, the thought frightens even her. “I really like you.”

“Nice cover,” he smirks. He isn’t foolish enough to believe that she was distracted by thoughts of liking him. She rolls her eyes.

“Typical male,” she teases. “Always thinking that a woman has devious plots and evil thoughts that she doesn’t voice.”

“We’re not talking about a typical woman, though, Ginny,” he says, his voice throaty. He is speaking so that his voice penetrates her and shoots to her very core. Her body stirs in places that she didn’t think that a mere voice could affect, and the desire evidences itself in her expression.

Draco watches in fascination as her expression progresses from amusement, then to surprise, and then finally to want. She pulls him back down to her and crushes her lips against his, taking what she needs from him. He is surprised at first, but after her tongue invades his mouth, everything else takes a back seat to his own desire.

Somehow she manages to flip their positions, and he finds himself rather suddenly on his back. She is straddling him, and the feel of her hips grinding against him is driving him mad. All that separates them are two flimsy pieces of material – her knickers and his pyjama pants.

She lowers her head and takes his earlobe gently between her teeth. He gasps, and she halts her assault on his ear to travel slowly down his neck. He is dying from her kisses; burning alive as her mouth leaves a wake of fire behind it. When she stops at his collarbone, he feels her begin to suck.

His eyes fly open wide in shock. She is marking him! His eyes drift shut again as her tongue laves the red mark she’s just made, and his hands fist in her hair. When her mouth moves to his bare chest, he can’t contain the growl that bubbles up in his throat. She lifts her head and looks at him.

He thinks that she is the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. She’s regarding him through heavily lidded eyes and her lips are red and swollen. Her copper hair hangs loose around her face, making her look like a wild creature.

“I want you,” he breathes. In his desire, he knows no pride; knows no shame. He is not hesitant in the least in voicing what he needs.

She crawls up his body until her face is directly above his, and she kisses him softly. The motion of her lips against his is agonizingly slow, and he wonders if she knows that she’s killing him. When she pulls away, their noses are touching, and her breath is hot against his mouth.

“I want you,” he whispers again. She closes her eyes to savor his words, and when she opens them to look at him, she gives him a feral smile.

“So have me.”

He surprises himself with the growl that her simple statement elicits from him. He plunges his hands into her hair and pulls her down, communicating his need to her through the roughest kiss they’ve shared. He’s been deprived of human contact for too long; living in isolation for so many months has made him hungrier for this intimacy than he realized.

He withdraws his hands from her hair and reaches down to grab the hem of her shirt. When she feels his cool fingers fumbling with the shirt near her thighs, she sits up and helps him tug the garment over her head. When his mouth finds the base of her throat, she tilts her head back to allow him more access.

His mouth trails down until he reaches her breast. She gasps and arches her back as he captures a nipple in his mouth. His tongue flicks against the hardened peak, and she moans. The noises she is making are driving him wild; he needs to claim all of her.

He gathers her close and shifts the both of them on the bed so that she’s beneath him again, and lowers his mouth to her other nipple. She arches her back again and begins to grind her hips against his.

Draco understands that he is not the only one who is needy now. Her fingers find the waist of his pants and slip beneath, where her slender fingers close around his hardness. His attention is drawn away from her breasts as he throws his head back and groans.

“Gods, Ginny,” he moans, his eyes closed. She helps him wriggle out of his pants, tossing them to the floor. He buries his face in the crook of her neck, struggling for breath as her fingers languidly stroke his length. He is mumbling something into her hair, but she can’t understand his muffled words.

When she lets go of him, he moans in protest. He bucks his hips against hers, and she cries out. “Draco, please,” she begs, squirming beneath him. He needs no further encouragement and reaches down to pull her knickers off. When the small garment has been removed and is somewhere on the floor, he positions himself between her legs.

“Want you,” she gasps, close to tears. He slides into her slowly, reveling in the feel of her hot folds surrounding him. She is trembling as he buries himself inside of her, and when he is completely inside, she opens her eyes to look at him.

The look on his face is one of mixed amazement and joy, and she finds herself smiling through her tears. She is not crying because of pain – there is no pain, only fulfillment, and it is this which causes the tears to fall. The sensation of her stretching to accommodate him pleases her; she likes the feeling of being filled with him in more ways than one.

“Should I stop?” he whispers, his voice full of tenderness and concern.

“Don’t you dare,” she whispers back, moving her hips back and forth. He closes his eyes as he withdraws almost completely, and then quickly enters her again. He is trying to be gentle, and she is grateful for that, but she needs more. “Faster,” she breathes.

He quickens his movements, panting heavily as he does so. She is surprised when his hands find hers and their fingers weave together. When she squeezes his hands, he opens his eyes and watches her head thrash about on the pillow. He bends and captures her lips with his, thrusting his tongue deep inside of her mouth, mimicking the motion of their bodies.

It is too much for her, and he pulls away slightly as she screams with her release. The sensation ripples over her as wave after wave of pleasure shakes her body. Almost immediately after, he tenses up, and then she feels his release, too.

He collapses on top of her as he struggles to regain his breath. After several minutes, he withdraws and moves to his side of the bed. Disappointment floods through her - until he reaches for her. “Come here,” he demands softly, his arms open. She moves closer and he wraps his arms around her, planting a gentle kiss on the top of her head.

“It’s never been like that before,” he confesses, still breathing heavily. He can’t find the words to explain the emotions that he’s experiencing, but he is sure of one thing beyond a doubt – he is in love with her.

She snuggles up to him, throwing one leg over him and laying her arm across his chest. She rests her cheek on his shoulder and closes her eyes as she nods. She is sated and totally happy for the first time in a very long time. She can’t recall a time when she’s ever felt so complete.

When her breathing has steadied, he extinguishes the candles. “Ginny?” he whispers. She does not answer, and he knows that she is asleep. He smiles into the darkness and kisses her forehead.

“I love you.”

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

When he opens his eyes to the blinding sunlight flooding the room, the events of the previous night rush to the forefront of his mind. He glances down at the woman in his arms; she is sleeping with her head on his chest and one leg thrown over him. He smiles at this. He likes her possessiveness; even in her sleep she claims him.

He is reluctant to get out of bed, but he needs to use the loo and he wants to inspect the mark she’s left on him. He maneuvers his way out from beneath her and moves quietly to the loo. When he looks in the mirror, a pool of emotion forms in the pit of his stomach. There, just above his collarbone, is a bright red circle.

When he chooses his clothes for the day, he purposely picks a shirt that displays the hickey. He lays the clothes on the foot of the bed and slides back beneath the covers, where she snuggles up to him immediately.

He drops several light kisses on her shoulder, grinning stupidly at the way they make her squirm. Finally she frowns at him. “It’s not nice to wake a person who’s trying to sleep.”

“It’s not nice to sleep when a person’s trying to wake you,” he replies, smirking. She laughs at this and opens her eyes.

“You’re spoiled.”

“I think we’ve already established that fact.” He drops a light kiss on her swollen lips, and she smiles again.

“Don’t try to get on my good side,” she grumbles good-naturedly. “A kiss isn’t going to make up for waking me. I was having an exceptionally good dream, too.” She heaves an exaggerated sigh, and he chuckles.

“Must have been about me.” She rolls her eyes even as she blushes.

“Prat.”

“You can admit it, you know,” he says, waggling his eyebrows suggestively at her. “I know how devilishly attractive I am.”

“Please,” she says, pushing him away playfully. “Arrogant is more like it.”

“I prefer the term self-assured.”

“Same thing,” she laughs. He had been afraid that the atmosphere between them this morning would be stifled and embarrassed, due to the events of the previous night, but he is happy to be proved wrong. She doesn’t seem embarrassed at all – if anything, she seems more at ease. She brushes the back of her hand gently against his cheek. “Knut for your thoughts,” she says softly.

“What are we going to do when school starts back up?” he blurts out. He kicks himself mentally for voicing his fear, but when her face falls, he knows that she has been thinking about the same thing.

“I don’t know,” she says honestly. “I don’t think that Dumbledore would allow me to sleep up here.”

“Do you suppose he already knows that you’re doing it now?”

“I’m sure he does,” she says, nodding.

“Smarmy bastard,” he mutters, glancing around the room. “Old man knows everything. I bet he’s even watching us now.”

“Ugh,” she groans, squeezing her eyes shut. “Don’t say that. I don’t want to imagine him watching me like this.”

“Sorry,” he says quickly, grinning. “He must know, though, since he hasn’t sent McGonagall after you.”

“I hadn’t thought about that,” she admits. “Do you think he knows about last night?”

“How do you mean?”

“About what we did?” Her cheeks color slightly as she says this, and he plants a firm kiss on her forehead.

“I wouldn’t worry too much about it. Students fool around all the time, even though the Professors have set up charms to prevent it. They always find a way.”

“But what we did wasn’t just fooling around,” she says. And then, her voice smaller than he has ever heard it, “Was it?”

“No,” he says gravely. “It wasn’t.”

She breathes a sigh of relief, and he frowns. He thought that he’d made it clear how important she is to him, but apparently he’s given himself too much credit. If she is able to think that their intimacy is meaningless to him, he has not made his feelings known.

“Do you think he knows, then?”

“Ginny,” he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Students younger than us have had sex in the castle before and not been caught.” Her eyes widen at this.

“What? Who?”

“Zabini and Susan Bones used to favor one broom closet in particular,” he says. Her mouth drops open, and she giggles.

“They dated?”

“No, they shagged. There’s a big difference. They never had any sort of relationship that went beyond being physical.”

“When was this?”

“During my third year.”

“He’s stayed true, then,” she says, recalling him in the Great Hall before the break. “I think he’s still with Susan.”

“Really?” This is interesting news to Draco. Blaise used to deny his relationship with the Bones girl whenever a fellow Slytherin confronted him with it. The idea that he is still with her suggests that there was something besides physicality present when they were sneaking around together, and Draco finds that he has a grudging respect for the boy because of it.

“Are you going to start going to classes and letting the other students see you again?” she asks hesitantly.

“I think so,” he says, nodding. She has given him the strength to face them all again, even though he knows that there will be endless questions and accusing stares. She kisses his shoulder before resting her head on it.

“You don’t have to,” she says.

“I know.”

“I’m going to miss being alone with you,” she laments. He frowns at this.

“Are you planning on abandoning me?”

“What? No! I just meant that I’m going to miss this time together, doing whatever we want, whenever we want. I’m going to miss the privacy of it all.”

“I don’t think I’ll be moving anytime soon,” he says, shifting to look at her. “Have you already decided that you’re not going to come and visit me anymore?”

“No,” she says, shaking her head. “I hadn’t considered that an option at all.”

“Then what did you mean?”

“I just meant… well, I suppose I meant that I’m wondering if you’ll still hold an interest in me once you come back.” He puts his index finger beneath her chin and gently forces it up.

“I’m not letting you go so easily,” he admonishes softly. He drops his finger to trace the love bite on her collarbone, and she shivers. “This is my mark of ownership.”

“What is my mark on you, then?” she asks breathlessly. “Does that mean that I own you, as well?”

“Every bit.”

She slides her lips against his, showering several emotional kisses on him. He is just about to slip his hand beneath the covers when a noise startles him, and he pulls away. His eyes narrow as he listens.

“Get dressed,” he hisses quickly, rising from the bed. He throws on his clothes as she grabs her own things and runs into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. As soon as she is gone from sight, there is a knock on his door. “What do you want?” he calls.

“Open the door, Malfoy!” Ron demands angrily. Draco grabs his wand and holds it at the ready as he nears the door. When he opens it, he is greeted not only by her brother, but by Potter and Granger as well.

“What do you lot want?” he asks distastefully. Ron’s ears are purple, and Hermione’s cheeks are flushed. Harry’s green eyes seem to be trying to bore a hole through Draco’s skull.

“I want to know where in the bloody hell my sister is, that’s what I want!”

“Why don’t you go and check her dormitory?” Draco suggests coolly.

“Because she’s not there, and we know that you know where she is,” Hermione huffs, her hands on her hips.

“Do I look like your sister’s keeper?” he drawls lazily, leaning against the door frame. “And how, might I ask, did you find me?”

At this, Harry’s face turns red, and in what Draco is sure is an unconscious gesture, touches his hand briefly to his pocket. Ron pushes past him and enters his room, glancing around wildly. His eyes fall on the knickers that Draco removed from Ginny last night, and he pales.

“She’s here,” Ron insists, his eyes locked on the undergarment.

“And what makes you think that?”

“Those are hers,” Ron says, indicating the knickers. Draco arches an eyebrow and smirks at him.

“And pray tell, how would you know what kind of knickers your sister wears?”

Ron’s ears turn purple. He turns to Harry and Hermione and frowns. “I know she’s been here,” he insists.

“Even if she has, she’s not here now,” Hermione reasons, glancing around. “Why don’t we go eat, and we’ll keep looking for her.”

Ron nods and allows himself to be guided out of the room, but not before casting a warning glare over his shoulder at Draco. Draco listens until he can no longer hear their voices or their footsteps, and then he rolls his eyes. Ginny emerges from the bathroom, wearing only her robe.

“I thought you were getting dressed,” he accuses, arching an eyebrow. She pushes her hair away from her face and glances at the door.

“I was, but the clothes I took in there were dirty,” she says reasonably. She bends and picks up her discarded knickers, dangling them off of her forefinger. “And besides, I didn’t have these.”

He laughs at this.

“Did you have much trouble with them?” she asks, moving to put the knickers in the bag that she’s been keeping her dirty laundry in.

“No, though Potter looked ready to kill me,” he drawls, folding his arms over his chest. He watches as she rummages through her duffel bag, searching for an outfit to wear. “Want to go and comfort them?”

She glares at him as she stands with a bundle of clothes in her arms. “You’ve got to be kidding,” she says, shaking her head. “Can you imagine the conversation we’d have?”

“Right,” he says, sniggering. He begins to speak in a high pitched voice, trying to imitate her. “Ron, I’ve been shagging Draco Malfoy, and he’s the best shag I’ve ever had.”

She throws her jeans at him and laughs. He holds the jeans up and tsk-tsks at her.

“Now what are you going to wear when I don’t give these back?” She bats her eyes at him.

“I’ll just take yours,” she says sweetly. His eyebrows shoot up.

“Really?” Before she can tell him that she’s joking, he turns and points his wand at the door, muttering a silencing spell. When he turns back to her, he tosses his wand onto his nightstand and spreads his arms out. “I’m ready. Have at it.”

She laughs incredulously. “I wasn’t being serious,” she explains. He drops his arms and smirks at her.

“You just know that you can’t do it.”

“Oh, Gods,” she says, rolling her eyes. “This is so childish, Draco! Do you really think that that sort of baiting is going to work on me?” He takes several steps toward her, closing the distance between their bodies. When she feels his hand on the tie of her robe, she sucks in a deep breath and looks up at him.

“Let’s see if you really need those jeans,” he whispers, his eyes darkening. He unties the robe so slowly that it’s almost painful. When the tie is dangling on the sides of her robe, he gently pushes apart the front of the robe, exposing her nakedness. She closes her eyes as his hands slip inside the robe and push it off of her shoulders. The fabric falls to the floor unnoticed as he places his hands on her hips.

“Looks like you don’t need them, after all,” he says, his eyes glittering. Her chest is heaving with the ragged breaths she's taking in, and she begins to unfasten his jeans.

“Neither do you.” He waits patiently as she pushes down on his jeans, then pulls his shirt off. When they are both freed of the barrier of clothes, he kisses her. The relaxed kissing continues as he guides her to the bed, and once they reach it, he lowers her onto the mattress.

“Is this all you think about?” he murmurs as she wraps her legs around him.

“Of course it is,” she breathes, arching her back as he enters her. “I’m wicked, remember?”

“I know,” he gasps. Her fingernails dig into his shoulders as he begins to thrust. He feels her muscles contract around him quickly, and that’s all it takes to send him over the edge. “Ginny,” he screams. She pulls him down for a kiss as his release washes over him, and he moans into her mouth.

With one final thrust, he collapses, burying his face in her hair. “That’s it,” he declares, breathing heavily. “We’re never getting out of this bed again. Do you realize what you do to me, woman?”

She smiles softly as she wraps her arms around him and squeezes. “I’ll stay here if you will.” He pulls away and grins at her as he brushes stray hairs away from her face.

“I suppose that staying in the bed forever is impractical,” he says, stroking her cheek with his thumb.

“Says who?” she pouts. He chuckles. “You’re right, I know. We’ve got to eat and go to the loo sometime, I know.”

“Speaking of eating,” he says, sitting up. “I’m famished.”

She sits up and clutches the sheet to her breast. “Now that you mention it, so am I. Should we ring for the house elves?”

“Why don’t we eat in the Great Hall today?” he suggests, retrieving his clothes from the edge of the bed. When she doesn’t reply, he turns to look at her. Her mouth is hanging open and she is staring at him. “What?”

“Are you ready for that?” she asks uncertainly.

“Well, I handled the Wonder Twits in Hogsmeade with my usual unfailing grace,” he reasons. She rolls her eyes at this, and gets out of bed. “Not to mention that I managed to speak to Bulstrode without cutting her down too badly. Come to think of it, I must be losing my edge,” he murmurs. She snorts at this.

“Trust me, you’re not,” she calls from the open bathroom. “If anything, you’re honing it.” He considers this, and decides that he agrees. With no one to talk to, his ability to make witty comebacks and scathing comments has dulled, and it’s only natural that he’s going to need some time to sharpen them.

She emerges from the bathroom freshly dressed in jeans and a pale yellow jumper. He’s never thought that redheads should wear orange or yellow, suspecting that it would clash with their hair, but her hair is dark enough that the yellow only brings out the streaks of gold in her hair.

She turns and catches him staring at her, and gives him an amused smile. “Is something wrong?” His eyes are fixed on the collar of her jumper, where he can just see the top of his mark on her over the garment. He smiles brilliantly at her and shakes his head.

“Nothing. Let’s go eat.”