Milk

Ginny woke up in a very dark bedroom. Every single limb of her body ached with such a pain that she felt she could not move if her life depended on it. Her mind was still fuzzy with sleep and discomfort that she had not registered her surroundings yet.

Wait.

Wait.

Ginny's eyes flew completely open as she strained to see through the infinite darkness. She ran her hands, palms down, over the sheets that were beneath her aching body.

Silk.

Silk?

Silk!

Ginny felt that fear flooding through her body, seizing her heart like a clenching hand, her breath becoming labored and frantic.

Silk sheets. She did not own silk sheets. Nor did she know anybody who did.

With that realization, Ginny swung her legs over the side of the bed, wincing as she brought a pale hand to her throbbing head.

Pain.

Why was she in so much pain? She tried to remember the night before; screwing her eyes tightly shut as the memories slowly and arduously came back to her.

Dark.

Yes, it was dark.

A dark alleyway.

How cliché of her to choose a darkened alleyway to walk home through. How utterly stupid of her.

Rough hands grabbing her forearms.

Even as she remembered, she could feel the dark bruises formed on her pale skin.

Being dragged, being dragged. Kicking and fighting and trying to scream. Biting, too. Drawing blood. Clouted by those hands. Only one man, only one man, shaking her.

Ginny shook her head slowly. Never again would she walk home to her apartment by herself, let alone through an alleyway.

A wordless shout as a glare of light reflected down the narrow side street. A blonde god, a hero, her Apollo. Apollo?

Ginny remembered asking that question of her savior. Asking him if he was a Greek god of old. For shame. She rolled her eyes at herself.

Strong arms engulfing her, but not like before. Gently, holding her carefully, until she could not think anymore, and she was swallowed up by oblivion.

"Never again, you stupid thing," Ginny muttered as her bare feet touched the cold floor. She shivered as she stood upright, blinking as the blood rushed through her body.

"Gods," she murmured, among other curses, as she started to walk unsteadily. Not knowing where she was heading to, Ginny followed her instinct, and ended up in a kichen.

Does this place even have heating? Ginny was freezing.

She found herself staring hungrily at the fridge. Hungering for satisfaction, not mortal food. She needed to drink.

Yes. A drink.

No, not alcohol.

Look what mess that got you into last time. Last night. No more intoxication.

"Fine." Ginny hissed to herself, and swung open the fridge door, trembling as the cool breeze from the movement of the door hit her.

Her eyes rested on a large pitcher of milk.

Milk.

Yes, that would do nicely.

Now where are the blasted glasses?

Ginny explored the cupboards briskly until she felt the cool surface of a glass in her hand.

Looking down, she surveyed the cup she held in her fingers.

It was a green glass, beautifully blown, with an elegant serpent winding its way about the cup, starting from the bottom and making its way to the top. Ginny stared at the cup, a disquieting thought flickering at the back of her mind.

A snake.

A green glass with a snake.

Shit.

I bet I know who this belongs to. Rich, Slytherin pretty boy...

Ginny poured the milk into the glass, watching it like a mesmerized young child. She loved the way the heavy liquid washed over the unmarred glassy surface of the cup, marking it with an opaque brand.

Ginny smiled to herself, and wound her fingers around the cool glass.

"What are you doing?"

The rough voice broke her from her trance, and made her jump slightly. Turning on her heel, she slowly raised her pretty brown eyes from the counter to meet the surveying grey eyes of the young man standing in the doorway of the kitchen.

Draco.

Draco.

"Draco?" The name was whispered in one overwhelmed breath. She had seen Draco Malfoy around lately. The rumors Ginny had heard about him all began flying around in her brain. Rumors about Draco coming back from Antarctica after murdering his own father and defeating the Dark Lord.

But of course, no one knew for sure.

Nothing was for sure.

"That was my name last time I checked."

Ginny smiled without humor.

"Still have that famous Malfoy tongue, I see."

"My tongue is of no concern to you. What are you doing up?"

A flicker of recognition blinked in the back of Ginny's mind.

"You... you were the Apollo, then." Ginny blushed madly as soon as she let slip her nickname for her messiah. She was thankful for the dark of the kitchen.

"Yes, that was me. What are you doing?" Draco moved from his position in the door to lean carelessly against the kitchen wall, across from Ginny. She shrugged.

"I'm drinking milk." She tightened her grip on the glass. His face remained impassive.

"Why in fresh hell are you drinking milk at two o'clock in the morning?" The tone of his voice was biting and jeering, condescending. Ginny felt like slapping him across his beautiful pale face.

Play the game, Ginny.

Ginny's mouth twisted into a small smile.

"Because I think it might taste like you," she said simply. Draco watched her as she closed her eyes, head tilted back slightly, and as she let the cold liquid slide down her throat. He could see the muscles in her throat working, moving, and imitating the liquid she was downing as she quietly finished her glass.

Draco leaned languidly against the kitchen wall, watching her with a slow, almost invisible apprehension. He was sure that she could hear the palpitating in his chest, which he was futilely willing to cease.

Ginny perched slowly and deliberately on one of Draco's cool kitchen stools. She shivered as the chill ran its way up her spine. She wasn't clad in much; a pair of Malfoy's boxers, a baggy short-sleeved shirt. Both were black, as she suddenly realized. She hadn't noticed that when Draco had ordered her to put something on.

Draco ordered me... Oh, I suppose that is right.

Ginny chewed on her bottom lip, another piece of the puzzle of the night before clicking into place.

Ginny glanced over at the man standing across from her, and felt a funny twinge in her chest as she realized what she had just thought. Man. Yes, that was what he had become. Draco's shoulders were broader than she remembered, the black of his shirt stretched and tightened over his body. His arms were crossed over his chest, perhaps to show dominance, but Ginny couldn't help thinking that when people crossed their arms, it showed their insecurity.

Perhaps he knew she was thinking this, as he slowly uncrossed his arms and ran one hand through his pale hair.

Draco was a steeled, toughened young man - she could see it in the hardened flicker of his glacial grey eyes. Ginny was sure that he had seen many things in his young life, more than what some older men had gone through. But from what she could see, Draco's hands had remained the aristocratic and slender artist's hands that she had always remembered them to be. Beautiful hands, with long, shapely fingers and pale, taut skin covering them, revealing the faint blue veins lacing beneath. Ginny drew in her breath sharply - she had always wanted beautiful hands. Without even noticing, she lowered her eyes and glanced at her own freckled fingers and ragged cuticles. She sighed inwardly. A soft snort drew her attention back to Draco's face.

He was frowning at her, but Ginny found that she could not entirely interpret that scowl. Perhaps it was the frosty dusk of the kitchen; the dark often cloaked things, disguising them cunningly. The dark was Draco's element, and she felt trapped.

Ginny had now lost the feeling in her fingertips. She could feel the bases of her nails tinting blue with chill, but that didn't stop her from reaching out and pulling the now empty glass towards her. She picked it up, and turned it around and around lazily in her slender fingers. Tiny beads of cloudy fluid rolled around in the crystal cave of the tumbler, and Ginny delicately extended her pink tongue to catch and lap them up, like a lithe cat.

Draco shifted his weight, and Ginny looked up at him. Her rasping voice cut through the cold silence.

"Why."

It wasn't even a question, more like a statement, demanding an answer. Draco raised one perfectly shaped eyebrow, and Ginny felt inward shudders. Her eyes remained trained on his, and she met his cool, surveying gaze properly. She almost smiled - she felt like a powerful Slytherin.

A corner of Draco's mouth twitched slightly, perhaps wanting to break out into a slight smile. Ginny caught it, and raised her eyebrows.

Perhaps he's surprised that I'm not backing down.

"I do have a personality now, Malfoy. My brothers' overprotective reaches could only stretch so far." Ginny set the glass down on the table, and twisted her mouth wryly. Draco looked at her appraisingly, almost appreciatively, silent against the wall.

Finally, he shifted his arms, and lazily ambled over to the kitchen stool beside Ginny. He straddled the chair carelessly, leaning up against the cold counter top. Ginny drew her knees in to her chest, pulling the baggy T-shirt over her legs, which were prickling, her fine leg hairs standing on end. She ran her small hands up and down her covered legs while breathing out softly.

"Cold?" Draco's voice always managed to convey the perfect mix of sarcasm, formality and potency. Ginny cocked her head as he spoke; she hadn't noticed how deep his voice had gotten over the years. His voice was a sensual rasp; smooth as the words he uttered.

"Very." Ginny met his gaze.

"You asked me a question."

"Astute observation."

Draco's attention was immediately riveted at Ginny's evident sarcasm.

"I see you have a backbone now, little Virginia."

"Thank you, Malfoy." Ginny blew her breath onto her hands as she stared at him.

"Before I tell you anything, will you make a deal?"

Ginny glared at Draco warily. She had heard many stories about the infamous Sex God Malfoy. There was no doubt about it, Draco was handsome. Not only was he handsome, but he knew it, too. Many of Ginny's girlfriends had whispered guilty sonatas about this man.

"...I heard he..."

"...with her..."

"....a whole weekend..."

"...perverted bastard..."

"...fucking shagable though..."

Ginny frowned as Draco looked at her.

"What kind of deal, Malfoy?"

Draco smiled slightly, a shrewd, calculating smile that made Ginny want to get up and run away, so far, far away so she could not be subjected to his seduction.

"If I answer your question, you have to answer one of mine."

That doesn't sound so bad, Ginny thought.

"Just one?"

"Just one."

Ginny drummed her fingers on the counter top.

"Alright. Mine first." Ginny narrowed her eyes and peered at him warily.

"Well, Virginia, when one sees a mop of fire red hair being tossed around like a wet dolly down an alleyway, one usually does not ignore it. Of course, I didn't know that it was you at the time, but once I had you in my arms, you fainted right away. Typical. What was I supposed to do with you then? I had to bring you somewhere, didn't I? I couldn't bloody well bring you home, as I don't know where your home is. Nor do I want to. So I bloody dragged you to my apartment, and put you in my bedroom with a set of my pajamas since your own clothes were so mucked up. I hope you know that I've had to sleep on the couch for the night."

Draco crossed his arms over his chest again. Ginny rolled her eyes.

"You're an insufferable git, you do know that?"

"I've been told."

"Good. Let me tell you again."

"My turn to ask you something then."

Ginny shifted uncomfortably on her stool.

"Alright. Make it snappy."

Draco looked at her for a minute before speaking.

"Why did you say what you did back then?"

Ginny's breath caught precariously in her throat as she thought about his question. Milk... why had she said what she had? What had made her open her mouth and blurt out like that?

Draco moved slightly closer as Ginny shook her head with the smallest of movements.

"I- I don't know... I don't know what you're talking about..." Her voice trailed off as she looked down at her hands, the hands that would never be like the hands of Draco.

"Yes you do."

That was when Ginny made her mistake. That was when she looked up into his eyes.

Shit. Ginny had never meant to meet his gaze, had never meant to become trapped as she did, like a fly on flypaper, like a helpless child. Draco's eyes were unfathomable, and it infuriated her that she could not figure them out, that she could not look away.

Draco stood up slowly.

"You said it. You said it because you... you wanted to know." Draco's voice had dropped to a breathless murmur.

Ginny's eyes widened in fear as Draco moved ever closer to her. Cold as his apartment was, she could feel the emotion radiating from him. And Draco never blinked. He never broke their eye contact as he moved closer and closer to her. Ginny's knees were still huddled into her body as Draco finally wrapped himself around her.

The moment his lips came down on hers, Ginny did not feel the cold anymore. She could feel his sturdy arms wrap around her, pulling her into him, knees and all. Ginny's legs were pinned to her chest, and she struggled to get her arms free, to wrap them around his neck.

Draco's tongue parted her chilled lips and slid between them, making her breathe in sharply as her grip around his neck tightened. Breathlessly, Ginny pulled away.

"I was right."

Draco frowned.

"What?"

Ginny let her fingers linger on the smooth skin on the back of Draco's neck as she spoke, her chest heaving with thrill, all caution and sensibility thrown to the wind.

"You do taste like milk."

Draco looked solemnly at her, before leaning in to meet her lips again.

"Draco?" Ginny pulled back from the kiss again.

"Yes?" The reply was not impatient, nor cruel.

"You don't have to sleep on the couch anymore."

Draco smiled, and with one smooth motion, swept the petite Ginny into his arms, and disappeared through the kitchen door with her, into the darkness.