Sweet Bondage

Chapter 14: Once Bitten....

"I don't think I'm ready, Matt, I don't think I'll ever be ready. I loved him for so long. I just can't trust myself anymore." Honey-brown eyes, glittering with unshed tears, looked imploringly at the man holding her in his arms protectively. "Please understand."

Matt wiped away the gathering tears caused by the bastard that the woman he loves, unfortunately, loved. It tore away at him, seeing her looking so miserable; he was determined to erase the memory of that sorry excuse of a man from her mind. He was far away now and he would never be able to hurt her again, not if he had anything to say about it.

"Shh, it's all right, Gin, I'm willing to wait. I'll wait forever if that's how long it takes." He gently kissed her eyes, one at a time, then drew her head to his chest. "It's over," he whispered fiercely into her hair, "he won't be able to hurt you again, not if you let him." He felt her arms wrap around his waist and tighten; that brought a smile to his face.

"Thank you, Matt. You're too good to me," she whispered back.

He drew her away from him gently, and cupped her face, an incredibly lovely face that for the longest time, had only known pain and self-doubt. "I would do anything for you, Gin," he said earnestly before lowering his face to hers and kissing her deeply. He felt her jerk slightly, as though in pain, before she pressed her body closer to his. They kissed for a long time, unmindful of everything around them.

Finally, they drew apart, and Matt was happy to see a smile on her beautiful face. She turned in his arms and leaned her back against his chest, bringing his arms up to wrap around her as they watched the last rays of the sun fade in the horizon. She closed her eyes and raised her face to the sky, took a deep breath, the smile not leaving her face. She knew he was watching her and that made her oddly content. He was right; it was a new day for her. No more uncertainties, no more fears. It was time to lay the past, finally, to rest.

"Matt?"

"Yes, Gin?"

She opened her eyes, which were sparkling with mischief. "You really need to work on that kiss. It was quite sloppy at best. If you want, I could give you pointers - "

She didn't get to finish what she wanted to say as Matt tackled her to the ground, tickling her mercilessly, before gallantly accepting her offer to teach him the rudiments of kissing as he covered her mouth with his own.

"CUT!" The voice of the director broke the silence of the set. "And that's a wrap! Good work, everyone."

The crew broke into rounds of applause and laughter as they watched the couple on the ground disentangle themselves from each other. They were visually perfect together, but all the staff and crew of the movie "Fundamental Mistake" knew there was nothing going on between the two. Not for want of trying on Nicholas Sterne's part, no. They all knew he wanted the redhead like a man craved for water after a full day in the desert, but she was just not interested. No, Moira Welsh had never been involved with anyone in Hollywood as far as they knew, and in the world where she reigned, she was an oddity.

Ginny laughed easily with her costar, punching him lightly in the shoulders fondly, ignoring the stinging she was still feeling all over her body. It was an inconvenience she had learnt to ignore over the years every time she was even remotely intimately close with any man. It was a constant reminder of who she was, and what was in store for her. But after four years, she had also learned that love was a universal migraine, and unless she began to develop coping mechanisms to help her ward off its paralyzing effect, she knew it would eat away at her insides like a canker: painful, ugly and senseless.

She knew the handful of friends she'd made in New York could not understand her standoffishness. She was friendly enough to the opposite sex, but when one tried to ask for more, which was usually the case with every straight man she met, she turned into the ice maiden with a ten foot brick wall surrounding her, keeping them out. She had a fiery personality, and her vibrant red hair promised untold sensualities, but she kept to herself like a nun in a cloister. If they didn't know she had two kids, all of them would swear she was a virgin. If she had been a virgin that would probably make the people in the business she was in shake their heads in disbelief, before backing off. But she was a twenty-two-year-old single mother, and a twenty-two-year-old single mother who looked like her in the business she was in should not be celibate. It was almost sacrilegious to the goddess of promiscuity.

"Great job, Moira." The film's director, George Mather, gave her a brief hug, relieved that after four months of endless shootings, the movie was finally over. More importantly, they were ahead of schedule and thankfully well within their budget.

"I should hope so," Ginny said, laughing and shooting Nick a mock glare. "This great oaf just about broke my ribs when he threw me on the ground. If I sustained serious injuries, I'll sue his ass off and subpoena all of you as witnesses."

All those who heard her laughed; they knew the talented Ms. Welsh had a wicked sense of humor. She could crack them up at the most inopportune times, and had never been apologetic when she occasionally ruined a shot because of her antics. Everybody who knew her, and those who spent more than a few hours with her, instantly fell under her spell. She had even been called an Enchantress by the National Inquirer, and it hadn't been meant as a compliment either. The tabloid had spent months trying to dig up dirt on her, and when they found nothing, they then accused her of being a witch who sent out invisible signals of enchantment on any show or movie she was a part of. They would probably pee in their pants if they found out just how right they were about the witch part.

"You can have anything of mine, My, all you have to do is ask." The double meaning and the use of the name people close to her had christened her with were all too clear in that heartfelt declaration, and Ginny was once again reminded of what could never be. Nick was a very nice man; handsome, sincere, rich. Any other woman would probably go down on their knees and thank their lucky stars if he so much as showed an interest in them. But for the past year, he had made it pretty obvious that he was only interested in Moira Welsh, the redhead from England, and would be the happiest man on earth if she returned even a fraction of his regard for her. But she could not.

"And what? Risk causing heartbreak to all those women out there hoping to bag you? I think not, Mr. Sterne. I don't fancy bananas stuffed in my car, or rotten tomatoes winging my way." Acting as though he was just joking around with her was the only way she could let him down gently.

"Anyway, I'm glad that everything's settled," George cut in. the intensity with which Nick was looking at Moira did not sit well with him, and he felt it his duty to nip this in the bud. He clasped Moira's hands and squeezed them. "Now, are you sure you can't be persuaded to change your mind, my dear? The female lead in my next movie is still waiting to be cast, and I would love to work with you again on that one."

Ginny shook her head. "I can't, George, I'm sorry. My father has asked for me; he's given me all this time to find myself and it's time I go back to my family. But I'll miss you," she said earnestly, "I'll miss all of this."

Nick stood to one side, listening to their exchange. He had failed, he knew that now, had probably known it all along, and it was a bitter pill to swallow. He watched her animated face, committing to memory her beauty and the taste of her lips, the feel of her body against his own. He didn't care that it happened only as a part of the movie they were making, having her beneath him. That was probably the last time he could be close to her and he didn't believe in wasting opportunities.

His eyes trailed down her body, his own tightening painfully with lust at the skin left bare by the thin shirt she wore, and those long legs clad only in denim shorts. He closed his eyes and his hands tingled in memory of what she felt like when they were rolling around on the ground. She was so very soft, and she fit well in his arms. For a short while he had lain in between those thighs, and forgot that he was an Atheist; he prayed like he had never prayed before, afraid he'd embarrass himself and her by coming like a teenage boy with his very first girl because of that impersonal contact. He'd wanted to freeze time in that moment, but of course he couldn't, so he did the only thing he could do.

Though it wasn't part of the script, he kissed her again, deeply, his tongue pushing past her lips, and damning himself once again with the knowledge of what she truly tasted like, knowing he would never be given the chance to have that again. She was too much of a professional to push him away though she knew the kiss was uncalled for; she had no choice but to let it continue, and he convinced himself that she kissed him back. She didn't, of course, but he was going to take what he could get from her then because that was the only opportunity for him to do so.

When George had ended the take, he had regretfully ended the kiss and he wanted to shoot himself when he saw the look of pity in her eyes. He supposed he should be grateful she didn't break his nose for his daring, but he would probably prefer her doing that to seeing how totally unaffected she had been by his kiss. For the first time, Nicholas Sterne, the stuff women's fantasies were made of, had been truly rejected by the one woman he would have gladly spent the rest of his life with.

"Nick? Are you okay?"

He opened his eyes and saw that George and Moira were looking at him worriedly. "I'm fine, just tired." He managed a smile. "So you're really retiring? You're leaving the States?"

"Not completely, no," Ginny answered. "But this will be the last movie I'll make. I'll visit once in a while, see old friends, check out how my business is doing, but that's about it for me." She saw the expression on Nick's face and wondered again what she did in a past life for fate to hate her so much. She could so easily fall in love with this man.

"I'll miss you," Nick said simply.

George quietly excused himself; he sensed that there were some issues the two had to deal with and they didn't need a shriveled old man interrupting them.

Ginny barely noticed the older man leave. She took Nick's hands in her own and brought them to her lips, kissing his knuckles. "You're a beautiful man, Nick, any woman would be lucky to call you her own." Her hold on his hands tightened fractionally. "At another time, another place, I would probably be the luckiest woman alive to have you feel so much for me." She brought his hands to her cheeks and kept it there for a few seconds. "I wish things were different with me, I wish I could give you what you want," she said wistfully. She straightened, and her sad eyes met his. "But I am what I am, and what I am can never be with anybody."

Nick felt hope blossom in his chest. It was a heady feeling, and he didn't want to let go of it, ever. "But why?" he asked, grasping her arms. "What's keeping you from doing what you want? If you want to be with me as much as I want to be with you, why can't you just let it happen?"

"That's just it," she said dejectedly. "I do want to try to be with you. But what I want is irrelevant. I can't be with you, I can't have you." She stepped back, out of his reach. "I'm meant for one man only, and that's that for me. In my world, where I come from, I no longer have command of my life. He is my life."

"Who, for god's sake! You've never been involved with anyone. Who is he? He can't be all that great if he's not around, can he?"

Ginny merely looked at her feet, unable to meet his eyes. "I'm sorry, Nick, but I don't have a choice." She turned around and walked away from him, her head down, her shoulders slumped. The last words he heard from her was 'I don't have a choice'.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"If you don't have anything new to tell me, Mr. Chauncy, I really see no point to this meeting you requested. And frankly, I am beginning to believe that you won't ever be able to come up with anything more important than Ginny's infrequent visits to England in your report." Draco sat behind his immaculate table, one elbow propped on his armchair, the fingers of the hand supporting his chin tapping the side of his face in a slow, steady rhythm. He had crossed his right leg over his left, and if Mr. Chauncy were to crawl under the table, he would probably see a pair of feet encased in shiny, expensive leather shoes swinging and tapping idly in tune to the beat of his fingers.

Sitting like that, the blond man looked relaxed, as though he hadn't a care in the world, but William knew he was anything but. What he was, was impatient and frustrated, and William Chauncy knew well what that felt like. He had been feeling like that for four years now.

"Mr. Malfoy, I don't mean to be impertinent, but this job you want done is getting more complicated as time passes. You know nobody can get near the Burrow without clearance, especially this past year, and now that Arthur Weasley's on the verge of becoming the next Minister of Magic, there is no way anyone could just go in, knock on his door and demand that he produce his daughter and whatever skeletons she has stuffed in her closet." He raked a hand through his rapidly graying hair. This task of tracking down Ms. Weasley was vexing; the only good it had brought him was the loss of several pounds of excess weight and a considerable reduction of his paunch. That showed how hard he had been working towards getting the job done.

That first year of his search, he had met one dead end lead after another, but he had only felt renewed vigor at what that meant: the task was getting more challenging and he had never been one to back down from a challenge. It was interesting how such a slip of a girl could just vanish for months at a time without any trace at all. None of the people he had contracted to look for her had any luck at all; in fact, the few times he had spotted her himself were purely by chance.

He had placed a tracking spell on her and had been delighted when it worked for a time. But then it just stopped. He didn't know whether it was because the spell had worn off, or somebody had noticed the spell and lifted it off her.

Or she had gone out of the country.

He highly doubted the latter; he knew the finances of the Weasley family would not be able to support the expense of traveling, and as far as he had been able to discover, the young lady was unemployed. But it had been two years already and he was getting more and more desperate.

Without any other recourse, he had enlisted the help of friends to try and find any trace of the elusive Ms. Weasley in America, New Zealand, Australia, China, Bulgaria and France. Nothing. Nobody had seen, or heard of, anyone that goes by her name in any of the Wizarding communities of those countries. An American friend of his, Irving Walker, had even tried to search for her outside the Wizarding communities using a very powerful incantation that had never failed him before. There is a first time for everything, they say, as his spell just kept on crashing on him in various States. Irving had then told him that it was either the place was too populated for the spell to work properly, or there was a Repelling spell on her that warded off anybody searching for her. In any case, William Chauncy could not afford to do his investigation the Muggle way in a place as vast as America.

"Didn't I tell you finding out anything about her would not be a walk in the park? All you've been able to find out about her associations after Hogwarts was the one she had with me, and I really don't need you to tell me how that went."

Despite himself, William flushed. He didn't need reminding of that embarrassing discovery.

He had only just found out about it when Malfoy requested, no, demanded, a meeting, and unable to meet his employers eyes, Malfoy had demanded to know what he'd been able to find out that made him so jittery. Reluctantly, he had told him, and then wished the earth would open up to swallow him whole when all he got in response to his information was the raising of one eyebrow. Malfoy had then told him that had he wanted an accounting of his sexual endeavors, he would be sure to look William up, but as that was not what he'd wanted done, he would greatly appreciate it if he stayed out of his bedroom.

Of course, he didn't exactly phrase it that way, but it was too mortifying to think about the exact words he had used to describe what he'd termed his voyeurism. William had not bothered to point out that he was paying him to look up any affairs that Ms. Weasley may have engaged in, and since she had been involved with Malfoy, even just that one time, then he really should not be faulting him, William, for essentially doing what he had been commissioned to do in the first place.

He shifted in his seat. "Mr. Weasley's inauguration is in two weeks, isn't it? Maybe I'll be able to find out more then. I'm sure Ms. Weasley won't miss that affair." He wished the blond young man was amenable to his suggestion; it was the only way he could think of after trying out so many.

Draco sighed inwardly. "It would be too late by then, Mr. Chauncy. Dianne has this insane idea of announcing our engagement next week in the Daily Prophet. I want that information before that time."

William was greatly confused. He had thought that the reason the young Malfoy wanted to learn about Ms. Weasley's activities was because he wanted her for himself, and he had solidified that opinion further when he found out about their one-night stand. Now he was learning of Malfoy's imminent engagement?

"I - I don't understand, Mr. Malfoy," he stammered out, looking totally lost.

"All you need to know is the information I asked you to get for me," Draco said, dismissing the investigator's confusion. "Now what about that theory of your American friend? The Repelling spell? Do you think that has substance?"

William shook his head. "Maybe. I don't know. There's only two ways of finding out anyway. One would take more than two weeks, if we employ Muggle P.I.'s to do the work for us. The other could take even longer, depending on the caliber of the Curse breaker we hire. According to my friend, who tried to take down the spell himself, the Repelling spell was too advanced and complicated for him to disarm. If we tried it ourselves, we'd have to find the most experienced Curse breaker there is, and the only one I've been told who can break just about any curse in existence would never do it for any amount of money."

"Everybody has a price, Mr. Chauncy. Just keep upping the offer until you get a yes from him. I'll cover whatever cost it'll take," Draco said nonchalantly.

William shook his head again. "No, you don't get it, Mr. Malfoy. If he knew why I wanted this particular Repelling spell taken off, and who the young lady this spell had been placed on, he'd probably curse me to within an inch of my life."

"Who is this Curse breaker you're talking about?" he asked, highly irritated.

"Bill Weasley."

Draco tensed on hearing who it was.

Bill Weasley.

Ginny's brother.

His father's idea of the perfect son. He felt blood rushing to his head, the rage he always felt at what he couldn't help coming back to taunt him.

Bill Weasley, the bane of his young life, was now going to be the one to give him the key to his sister's life.

He stood up from his chair and walked over towards the left side of his office, the Eiffel Tower clearly visible from a distance. Shortly after his talk with his father four years ago, he had proceeded to move the Malfoy Holdings offices to Paris, and in that short a time, he had managed to expand the business into what it was now, a multi-million enterprise second only to that which his father managed in London. And he had every intention of surpassing Lucius' success in the industry before he turned thirty.

"I want you to convince Bill Weasley to lend you his expertise in this, Mr. Chauncy. I don't care about the cost, I want him to do it." His vague reflection on the glass walls showed a calculating look in his eyes and a smirk on his lips.

"But I already told you - "

"Don't tell him who you need his skills for," he snapped. "Surely he doesn't need to know who the spell had been placed on. Make up a story! Anything! Just get his cooperation." There was a hard edge to his voice that said his mind had been made up and there was no way it could be unmade.

William nodded and sighed. "I'll try, Mr. Malfoy."

"Don't try!" Draco said sharply, turning around. "Do it. I want results this time, Chauncy. I want no excuses."

William nodded again and stood up to leave. He was about to pass through the door when Draco spoke again. He had turned back to face the Tower.

"Once you have the report, come see me in New York. I'll be there for a week. Just send an owl and I'll give you directions on how to get there." Draco heard the door close but didn't bother moving from his spot. Soon, very soon he'll know.

And then what, Draco Jr. said, irritated. What do you hope to gain anyway? You've found a wonderful woman who isn't after your money, you should let Ginny Weasley be.

"I have to know," Draco said doggedly, his jaw tight.

Draco, Draco. It's been four years, that part of your life must remain in the past. Dianne would make you a wonderful wife; she loves you. Don't ruin it.

Draco steadfastly refused to be dissuaded from his path. He had to know, he would never be able to rest until he knew. What, he didn't know, but he had a feeling there was something important his father kept from him in all this time Ginny had been missing. For one, his dreams about her had not stopped after that first one; it had even gotten progressively more vivid to the point that he was afraid to wake up, loathed to leave the arms of Morpheus, wanting so much to stay with her and his children. But of course, he had to wake up to the reality of his life. There was no Ginny beside him, no little boy named Luke, and no little girl, Nicole. His reality was Dianne, a beautiful, passionate woman he'd met in one of the charity functions Malfoy Holdings sponsored. A young woman with a big heart, a heart that had been devoted to him for the past year. He should love her, as much as a man like him could love; he could find no fault with her. But he couldn't. He couldn't even be faithful to her, and he knew then he would never be able to give her that kind of regard, however he tried.

Unlike Ginny? Draco Jr. guessed. Then what are you doing with her, Draco? Why are you with her if you can't give her your heart? You know that's all she wants from you. She doesn't even mind if you dip your prick somewhere else occasionally, which should make you vastly happy.

"Ginny would never - "

But she's not Ginny, is she? She's Dianne. It's not fair to her, you comparing her to a woman she has no hope of besting. You can't go on like this, Draco. It's not normal.

"What's normal? Nothing in my life has ever been normal! Having you in my head can attest to how abnormal my life is."

But do you have to add more complications to your life than there already is? In a weeks time you'll be engaged. If you had truly wanted Ginny, you wouldn't have asked Dianne to marry you. You know Lucius wouldn't have wanted you to commit yourself like this, but since you've never taken the time to examine his actions, you'll never understand his motivations. And after next week, you'll have gotten all that you've worked for, but at a price I'm not sure even you would be willing to pay.

"What is it you're trying to say? Why can't you just be straight with me! If you know something, tell me already. I'm not up to scrutinizing everything you say right now."

Deep down, you know what I'm talking about, Draco. You're just too afraid to face the truth. There's only so much I can tell you.

"You haven't told me anything!" Draco gritted out incredulously.

True, but in two weeks time, I won't have to. You'll know then. I just hope the past four years will have been worth it, but I have a feeling it won't be. And I won't be able to help you anymore when that time comes.

Draco was angry; at himself, at his father, at Ginny, at the infernal voice inside his head. He felt like a puppet, with so many people pulling on his strings. He had resisted them all to the best of his abilities, doing what he damn well pleased. He was an independent man who knew his own mind, and he did not appreciate being told off. In a weeks time his engagement to Dianne Winters would be announced, and their first official appearance as an engaged couple would be at the inauguration of Arthur Weasley as the new British Minister of Magic. He fully intended to come armed with the knowledge of Ginny's dirty laundry; that way he could convince himself that he was doing the right thing. He would finally be able to get her out of his system and that, will be that.

Good luck then, Draco Jr. said ominously. You're going to need loads of it, I can guarantee you that.

*~*~*~*~*~**~*~

Ginny handed her coat to the attendant and gave him a distracted smile. It was late, much later than she usually made an appearance to a party, but considering she had not wanted to come in the first place, she didn't think too much of it. This party was more of the same anyway: the same people, the same talk, the same empty praises, even the food was the same. She had tried to beg off coming, spouting off one excuse after another, but George was not to be deterred. It was to be the last social gathering she would be able to attend as a celebrity, and George Mather was determined to make this night a night she would never forget. Ginny highly doubted that, but she hated disappointing the man who had helped open the doors of the industry to her. That Colin would skin her alive if she broke his godfather's heart was also a powerful incentive for her to come, but that was entirely beside the point.

Ginny weaved through the crowd, smiling at people she knew, giving a little nod of acknowledgment to those she did not wish to talk to. Mostly, she ignored the stares and envious glances thrown her way; she had learned early on in her career that there was no pleasing everybody and to try would only be an exercise in futility. It did not matter to most of these people that she had a life outside of the limelight and that she valued her privacy above all else. That she did not divulge anything beyond that which her PR staff chose to concoct would always be a strike against her, a strike that resulted in her making the least amount of friends in a state populated by the millions. But the few people she had made friends with she would sorely miss, her being a witch becoming a major disadvantage only now when she knew her time in America was slowly ticking away.

Before long, she was drawn into the usual small talk, laughing whenever it was required of her, giving politically correct responses to highly sensitive issues, and basically just acting the complete opposite of who she was. Once or twice she had felt an odd feeling of being closely watched, but she dismissed it as nothing she hadn't been subjected to before. Stalkers were the norm in the world of showbusiness, and she'd had her fair share of them over the years.

After a while, the night became even more tedious. She had already spoken with George, assuring him that she had not changed her mind about retiring; had danced with Nick who looked at her with such longing, she was pink-cheeked the entire time they were moving to the slow music, and the feeling of being under a microscope persisted. She'd had a total of three glasses of Chardonnay and she was afraid to touch a fourth lest she really make the night a night no one would likely forget. The only thing left to do would be to say goodbye to her closest friend in New York, Sarah Carter, but since she had yet to see the younger woman in the crowd, she would have to endure the stifling environment a few moments more.

"Moira, I thought for sure you weren't going to show up."

Speak of the devil.

Ginny turned toward the familiar voice and grinned at the one face she had been wanting to see all night. Sarah was holding a champagne flute in each hand, her long legs making short work of the distance between them. And on her heels was her boyfriend of two years, Mark Curtis, looking impressive in his dark suit, a pleased smile on his handsome face when he spotted Ginny.

Sarah immediately kissed the air on each side of Ginny's cheek before thrusting one of the glasses she was holding into the redhead's empty hands, vigorously fanning herself as soon as she had freed that hand.

"You missed seeing him, My, I wish you could have been here when he was. I'd bet even you and your silly morals would fly out the window just to have a taste of that blond Adonis." She stepped closer to Ginny and whispered conspiratorially. "Don't tell Mark, but I myself would not hesitate if he so much as hinted he wanted to get to know me in the most primal of ways. I had quite the trouble of keeping my panties in place when those gray eyes looked at me. God Almighty, I thought I was going to melt right then and there."

Ginny's brows rose. Something about what Sarah said bothered her, but for the life of her, she could not point a finger at what it was. The little of what Sarah said of the man she was so enthusiastic about could be easily explained as coincidence; there were lots of blond-haired, gray-eyed men in New York, and, Draco would never be caught dead in the company of Muggles. So it couldn't possibly be him.

"I heard that." Mark frowned down at his unabashed girlfriend. "Honestly, Sarah, you're never going to win praise for being discreet. Don't try it now."

Ginny's lips twitched in amusement. Sarah and Mark had been going out for two years, and Mark had simply just given up trying to turn the blonde girl into a paragon of virtue. He was a high ranking TV executive who came from a conservative, affluent, old money type of family, and his relationship with Sarah was a constant source of argument among his parents and siblings. They did not approve of the young actress, thinking that Mark deserved somebody more agreeable, more stable and responsible, someone that was not known to flirt with anybody on two legs, be it male or female. And Sarah had not exactly helped improve their opinion of her by not only defying their deeply ingrained beliefs, but openly mocking it.

Sarah was just Sarah. She was beautiful, sexy, spunky, funny, loyal, honest, brutally frank, super friendly and an outrageous flirt. She had openly declared that she would flirt with whomever she liked, whenever she liked, and either Mark take her as she was or he could go take a hike. Mark had predictably chosen to stay. Sarah may act like a slut, but she had only been a slut with him, that much he can vouch for.

He had almost blown it with her that first time they'd had sex. And it was just about sex; she was very attractive, and her provocative ways in no way indicated that she was still a virgin. She'd been eighteen then and he twenty-seven, and having a hard-on every time he was around her was very inconvenient in fostering a professional relationship. So he decided to take care of his problem by fucking her, as he'd crudely put it; he'd been sure that that would end his body's uncontrolled reaction to her. What he got instead was a near heart attack at his discovery, a busted ear drum, and the shortest orgasm in the history of the human race.

For weeks, Sarah had refused to talk to him, giving him the evil eye every time they crossed paths, stopping short only of crossing herself to ward him off since she wasn't Catholic. He endured her extreme reaction, partly because of his embarrassment at his loss of control. But when her contrariness did not show any signs of improvement as the weeks passed, and her refusal to stay within a forty foot radius from him didn't look like it would change anytime soon, his embarrassment turned to anger. He was a grown man, a man known to be a master at all activities pertaining to the bedroom. To have a virtual teenager making him feel like an inexperienced boy who couldn't keep it in his pants was a severe blow to his ego. So he set out to correct her opinion of him, whether she liked it or not, and seven weeks after that first sexual comedy, Sarah Carter was conspicuously out of reach for three days.

The day Ginny saw her friend again, Sarah had been wearing a silly grin on her face and a suspicious limp when she walked. She had been too shocked to ask, and she'd had a pretty good idea what happened to the younger woman anyway, but to hear the details spewing from her friend's mouth made her want to bury her head in the sand and never show her flushed face again. Mark may have thoroughly changed her friend's opinion of him, but there was no way on God's green earth that he'd be able to curtail her scandalous spirit.

"Oh, go away and suck on a lemon or something. Maybe that'll help you become less of a prude and a bore," she said airily, looking at her boyfriend with the corner of her eye. She acted indifferently towards him but in truth, Mark was everything she could hope for in a man, and she was deeply in love with him. But in an industry where sex was as casual as a handshake, and where sexual partners were more frequently replaced than table napkins, the only way she could keep a man such as Mark interested was by feigning an indifference she was far from feeling.

She dreaded the day he would eventually tire of her and move on to new territories, dreaded it because she knew in her heart that she would let him go. She had always believed that were she to love somebody, she would want him to be happy, and if he would be happier with someone else, then why hold on? Her friends back in her hometown of Kansas had called her a fool because of this belief and naïve to actually think she could just stand aside and let herself be hurt like that. Since she hadn't had a boyfriend then to test out her convictions, they hadn't thought much of it. But Sarah was firm in her stand; to her, it was better to be hurt once than to suffer a thousand hurts later on in a relationship where only one was in love with the other.

Then Mark Curtis walked into her life and she knew that she was going to have her heart broken later on. They came from very different backgrounds and sooner or later, that difference would spell the end of their relationship. She loved him, yes, and she knew that he was happy enough in their relationship, but she also had a feeling that he didn't really love her. He desired her of course, like a hundred other men lusted after her, but she knew that he would never take someone like her seriously. He might say otherwise, but at the end of the day, she would always remain the farm girl who was an excellent lay, and nothing else. It hurt, thinking about their clichéd end, but at least she had prepared herself for that day. And if what she had been a witness to tonight was any indication, she was about to experience what a broken heart felt like.

"Can't you, for once, behave like an adult?" Mark said quietly. "You're embarrassing yourself and me, if you haven't noticed. And didn't I tell you you shouldn't drink any more tonight? You're nearly wasted." He made to take the flute away but Sarah moved it out of his reach.

Ginny looked at her two friends worriedly. This was the first time in a long time that Mark was making a big deal out of Sarah's flirtatiousness. And Sarah was looking at him angrily, almost ready to bite his head off. Whatever was going on between them, she had a feeling it wasn't going to end happily.

"That's rich! Now you're accusing me of being a drunk! What? Do you think that'll make you feel better later on?" Sarah defiantly tipped the glass to her lips and drained the entire content in one go, flashing the furious man beside her a triumphant smirk.

Ginny was afraid of whatever was going on to escalate further. Mark looked murderous, and Sarah was acting very much like the bitch the tabloids were constantly accusing her of being. She had to avert disaster somehow, before they both said something they would later regret.

"What's wrong, Mark? What's going on?" Ginny asked hesitantly, not sure whether that question was going to help any, but it was all she could think of on short notice.

"What's wrong?" Sarah answered for Mark, glaring at him. "What's wrong is that Mark here saw something from the past and wanted it again! Why he won't just come out and say it, I don't know! It's not like it's not obvious, even a two year old can guess what went through his head when he saw his ex-girlfriend. Oops, my mistake, his ex-fiancé." Sarah's voice was bitter, but thankfully, still quiet.

Mark's face tightened. "Drop it, Sarah. There's no reason for you to be jealous, there's nothing going on between me and Dianne, and there never will be."

Sara flipped her hair over one shoulder, her chin rising up a notch. "Why? Because she just happens to be engaged to someone else? Since when has that ever stopped you, Mark?"

Ginny started to feel really panicked. "Guys, please, don't you think you should take whatever this is into somewhere else more private?" Ginny said nervously, hastily handing her untouched glass as well as Sarah's empty one to a passing waiter while also checking whether the couple's argument had attracted the attention of the other guests. I really don't need this right now, she thought when she saw that they were the focal point of several pairs of curious eyes. "C'mon, come with me before you give this lot enough gossip to last them for the rest of the year," she said quietly, taking an arm each and steering them gently, but firmly, towards the safety of the ballroom's front doors. She fixed a smile on her face, acting as though there was nothing out of the ordinary going on with the furious looking couple she was determinedly leading by the arm. She was only grateful that Mark and Sarah were not resisting her efforts to get the two of them isolated.

She was almost to the door when a vision in green cut them off. Fortunately, Ginny was able to stop in time before she plowed into the smaller woman, who was smiling up at her with a look of complete adoration. Her smile never wavered as she tried to side step around the beaming female.

"Excuse us," she murmured politely, but stopped short once again when said female blocked her way once more. Only four years of dealing with adoring fans kept her from snapping the woman's head off. Honestly! This person was breaching all codes of good conduct by ingratiating herself where she wasn't wanted. "May I help you?" she asked as politely as she could, tightening her hold on Sarah who was beginning to tug at her arm relentlessly. They were so close to safety, she wasn't about to let anything derail that now.

"Hi, I'm sorry if I come off as too forward, but I can't believe you're here and I can't believe I'm standing in front of you right now!"

Ginny's right eyebrow rose. Great Merlin, was she bouncing on her feet!? "And you are?" There was enough irritation injected into her tone to warn anybody not to mess with her, but apparently, the little bouncing girl (she was too petite to be a grown woman, surely!) was too excited to take notice.

"Oh!" Her eyes rounded as if just realizing that their acquaintance was horribly one-sided. She stuck out her hand. "Dianne, Dianne Winters. I'm a big fan, Ms. Welsh, I can't tell you how honored I am to finally meet you. I've heard of your work, and I have to say that I greatly admire your devotion in working with orphaned and sick children. Our organization has worked with yours on several occasions, but this is the first time we've actually met."

Ginny was getting a giant-sized headache. She was so perky! Like a little puppy, with not a care in the world except the burden of looking pretty for its owner 24/7. And here she thought Sarah was the flightiest creature ever created on earth.

"That's nice," she muttered condescendingly, smile still perfectly in place.

"Oh yes! When Mark told me you'd be here, I was beside myself with happiness. I had almost lost hope when it got really late and you were nowhere in sight, but now you're here!" Her doe-like eyes fluttered several times and Ginny wondered how she hadn't managed to poke her eyes out with those overly long false lashes.

Then it hit her. Dianne. Dianne. This was Mark's ex-fiancé? She looked sharply up at the man to her right and her eyes narrowed. Now she can see what made Sarah saw red: He was almost drooling, like a rabid dog scenting its prey. Sure, this Dianne was beautiful enough, and if she didn't miss her guess, there was an air about her that screamed wealthy. But she was so tiny! And living with a virtual ball of fluff would probably be refreshing for a while, but to have one underfoot for all of eternity would surely drive a sane person into the madhouse! But Mark seemed blind to that little fact.

Shifting slightly on her feet, she lifted her right foot and ground her stiletto heel into Mark's foot, putting all of her 120 lb weight into the act, feeling extremely satisfied when she heard him suck in a pained breath. "Yes, I'm here," she drawled lazily, her lips twitching when she felt Mark trying to unobtrusively rescue his abused anatomy from her efforts of crushing them. "But I'm afraid I'm going to have to cut our chat short. There is something that I have to do with great urgency and it can't be put off another minute."

"Oh," Dianne said, her disappointment clearly evident in her blue eyes. Then, she brightened again. "Maybe we can talk again, before my fiancée and I leave for London. I would so love to share ideas with you about the plight of women in Africa."

Not a chance, little girl, she thought unkindly. "I would love that. I'll have my secretary check my schedule." With a last warm smile at the besotted girl, she forgot all about discretion and dragged Mark and Sarah out the doors, before suddenly making a beeline for the coatroom and shoving the two inside with unnecessary force and shutting the door at the attendant's protesting face.

Hands on hips, Ginny glared at her two friends, who were standing as far away from each as was possible inside the limited space of the room. "Now, out with it. What is wrong with the two of you that you start sniping at each other in front of a hundred press people! You knew better to do that! What could possibly be so bad for you two to lose your common sense that way?"

That was all the encouragement Sarah needed before she started venting her anger.

"I can't believe you! What have I always been telling you, Mark? Did you think I was joking? Is that it?" Sarah snapped, arms crossed defensively. "I'm not some little girl who'll throw a tantrum if you tell me you're no longer interested in me. At least summon the balls to tell me to get lost!" Her eyes flashed dangerously. "God! You're so pathetic!"

"What do you want me to say!" Mark practically roared. "You've always been suspicious every time I so much as look at another woman. I can't even mention a friend's name without you getting all paranoid on me. You're suffocating me, do you know that? I can't fucking breathe with you around!"

A heavy silence descended on them after Mark's outburst. Ginny could not believe what she was hearing from the man she had mistakenly assumed to be decent. It was as though a veil has been lifted from her eyes and she was seeing him for the first time; she was not liking what she was seeing at all.

"Maybe I should leave you two alone," she said hesitantly, edging for the door.

"Stay," Sarah said calmly, her eyes on Mark, no expression on her face. "You should have said something sooner," she told him, her tone curiously flat.

The muscles on Mark's jaw worked but not a word passed from his sealed lips. It seemed that he had already decided to lay the ball in Sarah's court and was just waiting for her to end this game they'd been playing.

"Since I have become such a burden to you, I'll lighten your load a bit." She held his gaze for a few seconds before she made up her mind. "There's the door. Use it."

Ginny could not believe how easy Sarah made it for Mark, but what she could not accept was how eager Mark was to leave her friend. One minute he was there, the next he wasn't, without even saying so much as a goodbye to the woman who was trying vainly to keep it together.

As soon as the door closed behind the departing Mark, Ginny rushed forward and took Sarah in her arms just as the blonde was about to crumple to the floor. She had always known that Sarah's feelings for Mark went far deeper than she let on, but she had never envisioned their break up as confirmation of her suspicion. It hurt her to see how miserable her friend was probably feeling, willing her own tears away as Sarah shook with the force of her grief.

"Sar, please, don't," she pleaded, rubbing the heartbroken woman's back soothingly.

"He's really gone, My, I've lost him," Sarah said in between sobs.

Ginny kept up her ministrations on her back, offering comfort as much as she could. "If you felt this strongly for him, then why did you just let him go like that? Why did you cut off your nose to spite off your face?" she asked softly. "And what started all this in the first place?"

Sarah lay her head on Ginny's lap, keeping her face turned away from her, not wanting to show her ravaged face. She clutched fiercely at Ginny's skirt, biting her lower lip in her effort to keep from wailing like a child.

Ginny was struck at how familiar the scene was, at how, many years ago, she herself had broken down in the arms of a friend when her world had come crashing down on her. It was really unnerving, and something she had been denying to herself came barreling through the forefront of her mind once again, and this time it refused to be ignored.

"I didn't know," Sarah said softly, breaking Ginny's train of thought. "I didn't know who that woman was when she came in, but Mark couldn't take his eyes off her. Martha Weiss was only too happy to tell, you know how much she likes Mark." She tensed as she prepared for what she was about to say. "She told me that she'd been Mark's fiancé once, and that Mark had been head over heels in love with her. They were about to get married, everything had been ready, and then the announcement came that the wedding was being postponed, then called off entirely. Nobody knew why." She took a deep breath.

"That was five years ago, and I never even knew. Nobody bothered to tell me." She raised miserable eyes and looked at Ginny, her lips quivering. "I looked for Mark, I wanted to ask him if it was true, what Martha told me, and I saw him with her. The man she was with, presumably her fiancée, was talking with somebody else, and Mark was standing next to her, so close you'd think he was attached to her hip. And I saw the look in his eyes, My, and it ripped me apart." Tears again started streaming down her cheeks. "He has never looked at me like that, and I knew then he wasn't over her. If she wasn't there with another man he might have taken her out of there and renewed their acquaintance, and I just can't sit by while he makes a fool of me. I love him, but he doesn't feel the same way. I gave him two years of my life, but I can't play the charade he calls a relationship with me anymore. It hurts too much."

Ginny was torn. What Sarah said was also news to her, but she didn't see any plausible reason why she should let Mark go when that other woman was obviously already committed to someone else. Mark hadn't outright said that he wanted to take up where he had left off with his ex, so all of Sarah's fears were mere suppositions. But when she said so out loud, she got a firm shaking of the head.

"It doesn't matter anymore, it's over. It would probably never work between us anyway, so it's better I end it before it gets too far." She took a long, shaky breath and stood up, smoothing down her badly wrinkled dress.

Ginny also got to her feet hastily, ignoring the creases on her own dress. She wasn't sure if she should regret coming to this party at all for what she had to witness, or be thankful that she could be there to lend much needed support to her devastated friend. And at the back of her mind, there was that voice asking her whether she wasn't somehow jinxed. So far, three people close to her had not been very lucky in love and she had a strong feeling that Ron and Luna's relationship would not last for very long. That would mean four jinxed relationships; that Harry and Hermione had ended up together after a very explosive beginning did not ease her mind at all.

"But hasn't it gotten far enough already? After all, you've been sleeping together for two years. I think that fact alone merits your relationship as being of a serious nature," Ginny pointed out.

"You're too idealistic, Moira," Sarah said dryly, fixing her messy hair as best she could in front of the full length mirror at the furthest corner of the room. "The two of us are practically an oddity in this world; you, not screwing around with every available and eligible men on the roster, and me, fucking only one." She smiled at Ginny's severely pursed lips. "Sex is not the standard by which people in the business, people like us, use to measure the seriousness of a relationship, you know that, My. I'm sure there are others out there who are devoted to their partners, but they are very nearly extinct. Years being together will not guarantee faithfulness, you know. Do you have a hanky?"

Ginny shook her head no, then started looking for her coat among the hundreds of other coats hanging in various racks. Fortunately, the second rack she searched yielded positive results, and she immediately took the piece of cloth she always leaves in her coats for just such an occasion.

"Thanks," Sarah said as she took the proffered cloth and fixed the smudges her tears had made to her make-up. She squared her shoulders and took a deep breath again, closing her eyes briefly, and when she opened them again, the previous lost and wounded look there was gone, replaced by cool detachment and calm acceptance. "I have to get out of here," she said lightly, looking around at the many coats around them. "Help me?"

Together, they looked for Sarah's coat and once she was as ready as she would ever be under the circumstances, Ginny debated with herself whether she should offer the younger woman her sympathy. Sarah needed to hear that somebody knew what it felt like to be so hurt by a loved one; at the same time, she also knew that any attempts on her part to commiserate would not be appreciated. She needed to learn to move past the hurt so she could understand that there was more to life than just heartbreak. And she had so little time to try and be that person for Sarah.

"Well." Sarah gave Ginny a fleeting smile. "Thank you, Moira, for being here for me. I'll miss you so much," she said earnestly, drawing Ginny back into a tight hug. "Don't be a stranger, okay?"

Ginny returned the hug. "I'll miss you too. I'll try to keep in touch, I promise. I won't be able to send word right away, but watch your post just the same." She drew back and let Sarah see how unhappy she was at her leaving. "If only I could stay a bit more, but I can't."

"That's okay," Sarah assured her. "I'll probably be laying low for a while anyway, you know, lick my wounds in private and all that, let all this pass me by." Her eyes clouded over again before she determinedly shook her head. "Anyway, I might even come to the UK, you never know. We could play catch up then."

Ginny tried her best to be encouraging. What she said sounded very good to her ears, but she knew it would be impossible for her to show Sarah her world without risking exposure. "Sounds like a plan, then," she said gaily, not quite meeting Sarah's eyes.

Sarah nodded. "I'll go now." She turned around and started for the door, but stopped when Ginny started to follow her out. "If you don't mind, My, could I go out first? I'll be less noticeable without you by my side. I really don't need the attention right now."

Ginny stood frozen in the middle of the room, a bit hurt to hear that Sarah didn't want her around, before she realized that she was right. The people inside the ballroom would probably recognize her red hair right off and guess who it was with her, and the last thing Sarah needed was further aggravation on a night that was already full of it.

"Of course," she answered simply, hanging back and watching as Sarah bravely walked out of the room, her head high, her back straight, and a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes firmly planted on her lips.

As the door clicked shot, she walked back towards the full-length mirror and stared at her reflection unseeingly. What happened tonight with Sarah and Mark really threw her for a loop; it just went to show that the only thing constant in life was change. She fervently wished that Sarah come out of this experience a stronger woman. Of Mark, she didn't know what to think; she could not believe how callously he had treated Sarah. She wanted to hurt him, physically, but it wasn't her fight. What Sarah had said was true; they were complete opposites of each other, and they might not have worked out in the end, but that doesn't mean that it was going to stay like that for them forever. There was always a middle ground somewhere, if only they didn't have too much pride riding on their backs.

Like Draco's pride that kept him away from his family.

Surprised at the sudden turn of her thoughts, she hastily pushed it back to the deepest recesses of her mind and prepared herself to face what was left of the evening for her. Since she'd already said her goodbyes to the people who meant a lot to her inside the cavernous ballroom, she didn't need to spend another minute under the glare of the spotlight.

Straightening, she was about to turn around and head for the door when it opened. She raised her eyes and looked at the reflection of whoever it was that had just entered, a smile automatically forming on her lips, believing it was the attendant come to check if the coatroom had already been vacated. Her smile died a sudden death when she saw who it was that had just walked in.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Mr. William Chauncy paced the lobby of Draco Malfoy's impressive accommodations in New York. His initial shock had been replaced by impatience; he had been waiting for his missing employer for two hours already and there was still no sign that he would be back anytime soon. There was a lot the man had to know, and William had run out of time. If only Bill Weasley had not procrastinated in his decision to help him, he might have been able to prevent the disaster that could happen, that was about to happen. Now, it was too late.

His head snapped up when he heard a door open and close, then had to control his exasperation from showing when he saw it was only the butler.

"It is getting rather late, Mr. Chauncy. I am sorry to say that the Master may not return tonight, as I had expected."

William did groan this time. "Is there any way I could contact him? My business with him is very urgent."

The butler shook his head. "I'm sorry, but he left specific instructions not to give out information of the like to anyone without prior notice."

William sighed; he really had no time for this. Quickly, he pulled a small notepad and a ballpoint pen out of his pocket and scribbled a message on it. Finished, he folded it in two and handed it to the butler. "See that he gets that as soon as possible. I will be staying around for another day only, so it is imperative that I speak with him."

The butler took the obviously muggle piece of paper between his thumb and index finger, his expression haughty. He did not believe for a minute that Mr. Malfoy would consider anything this badly dressed individual would have to say as important. If he won't even take the numerous owls and howlers that his father, the elder Malfoy, had been sending him for the past week, then there was absolutely no reason for him to think that anybody as inconsequential as William Chauncy would be important enough for him to bother his lord and master with.

"Of course," he replied smoothly and didn't bother opening the door for the gentleman to pass. Wrinkling his nose in disgust, he proceeded to drop the note in the nearest waste basket. Mr. Malfoy was a very busy man, and he took it upon himself to ensure that no riff raff interrupt the fluidity of his schedule.

He turned his back as soon as he disposed of the piece of paper, not even bothering to look at what message it contained. If he had, he might have had second thoughts before disregarding it like yesterday's news.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Ginny felt lightheaded and belatedly realized that it was because she had stopped breathing. She took several deep breaths, the spots before her eyes disappearing slowly as her brain received the much needed oxygen, her eyes fixed on the figure that slowly, deliberately, closed the door to the coatroom, not bothering to lower his voice when he cast a locking spell on it, and a silencing charm on the room. She couldn't move, she was too transfixed at the sight before her. She couldn't possibly be hallucinating, her air-starved brain conjuring up images of people and things that ought not be there.

With trembling fingers, she touched the cold glass of the mirror, hoping that with the movement, the image before her would disappear. When it didn't, and he slowly invaded her personal space, bigger than life and looking quite satisfied with himself, she wanted to scream bloody murder. Damn Fate!

"That was quite a scene out there, Ginevra. Can't say much about your taste though; surely there are enough wizards out there who'd overlook your Weasel beginnings. You didn't have to take up with a Muggle. Or is that customary for people like you now? What is it you do again? Acting, wasn't it? Tut, tut, you have really fallen far this time, Ginevra. A pity." He now stood behind Ginny, only a few inches separating their clothing from touching. "Tell me," he said, bending down slightly so he could whisper in her ear, both his hands resting on her bare shoulders, "is he any good in bed? Does he make you forget about all the other men in your life? Does he make you scream with pleasure?"

Ginny shivered in instantaneous lust when she felt Draco's body press against her back. And he smelled so good. She knew she should be angry at him for taking such liberties with her now, as though harsh words hadn't been said between them all those years ago, but her body refused to obey her mind's commands, which was to establish distance between them ASAP. Instead, when she felt his lips on her neck, she tilted her head to the side to give him more room to explore, her palms planted firmly on the mirror, probably the only reason why she wasn't yet a crumpled heap on the floor.

"Why - why are you here?" she asked breathlessly, then gasped as she felt his teeth bite down gently on the point between her neck and shoulders. Heat engulfed her body and her common sense was knocked out for the count.

"Business," he said briefly, his eyes fixed on their reflection as the hands that was on her shoulders moved down the side of her strapless gown, and slowly pulled the bit of cloth down to expose her breasts. And Ginny knew she was lost.

Draco himself was fighting a raging battle. He wanted to let loose all the pent-up frustrations he had been storing for four years, but the damned voice inside his head was annoyingly screeching away like a banshee.

What the hell do you think you're doing!? You're making a big mistake, stop that, Draco. You can't do that to Ginny, you're engaged for heaven's sake!

Draco divided his attention into making the voice disappear, as he had been able to do a few times in the past, and slaking his lust with the woman that was in his arms.

Don't you dare pull that one on me again, you brat! Don't think I don't know what you're doing. I'm wiser to you now, and I'm telling you, RIGHT NOW, stop being an ARSE and end this before it's too late. Goddamnit, Draco, take your hands off her butt!

As though baiting Draco Jr., Draco moved his hands from Ginny's buttocks only to push down her dress past her hips, leaving her clad only in black silk underwear and stiletto heels. He was relieved when the voice quieted down, and he could concentrate on what he was doing.

When Ginny felt her dress leave her body, some semblance of sanity was knocked into her subconscious, enough to make her see that they were rushing things again.

"Draco, wait, wait. We can't," she said softly, even as her body craved more of his touch.

"Why not?" he asked, in between nips and kisses. "We're alone, the door won't open unless I open it myself, and you want me as much as I want you."

Ginny could not refute his claim, and that was all the opening Draco needed before he proceeded to do what he did best.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Draco jerked awake, for a moment wondering where he was, until he felt the soft body sleeping peacefully under him, felt the leg draped over the back of his legs.

"It wasn't just a dream," he said softly, looking at the face of the one woman he had not been able to forget. He was surprised to note that he was still buried inside her body.

I can't believe you, Draco Jr. said disgustedly. Isn't it enough that you've had her twice in under an hour? Don't you have anything better to do than screw your brains out?

Draco didn't bother replying; instead, he concentrated on moving in and out of Ginny's body, making sure to moderate his movement so as not to wake her up. She looked to be in deep sleep, but he didn't want to take any chances.

You're a hopeless case, Draco Malfoy. I give up. I tried, I really tried. I'm cutting my losses now. I'm sorry, my boy, I really am sorry.

Draco closed his mind off. All that mattered was his need, the ache that he'd been carrying around for years. The object of his obsession was here now, beneath him, and before the night was over, he would have finished with the business of Ginny Weasley and move on with his life. He now knew all he needed to know to do just that, but before he went, one more time was not going to hurt his resolve.

So he used her body as he had always dreamed of, satisfying himself. When he came inside her hours later, he knew that it was time for him to go. Pulling out of her took every ounce of effort he could muster, but looking down at her, so naked and beautiful, he had to force himself to cover her with the sheet so he wouldn't be tempted to climb back into the bed again.

He dressed quickly, casting spells on himself to remove the smell of sex clinging to his body and clothes. Deliberately, he scrawled a message on paper with the hotel's letterhead, and after addressing it, tore out the page and laid it beside Ginny's head.

With one last look at the sleeping woman, he took out his wand and disapparated.

She didn't know what woke her, but when she did, she felt oddly empty, then realized right away why: Draco was no longer weighing her down on the bed. A sheet had been drawn to cover her body and she slowly sat up in bed, listening for any sign of Draco.

"Draco?" she called out softly.

Nothing.

Frowning, she got out of bed, moving guardedly as her body protested, and the flesh between her thighs ached with each step she took. She started for the lavatory, thinking he might have gone there. He wasn't in there.

She shrugged on a white terry robe neatly folded on a rack inside the luxurious bath and as quickly as she could under the circumstances, started searching for any hint as to where Draco might have gone to. She refused to acknowledge the niggling fear that was slowly building inside her; there was no way he had just left her behind without even a hey-ho. Not after last night.

The suite was big, it had three rooms, all with bathrooms, but not one of them yielded Draco. Finally, accepting that he was not going to make an appearance anytime soon, she went back to the room they had laid together and sat heavily on the bed. Her mind was a jumble of conflicting thoughts and she wanted to just shut them all out. With a heavy heart, she decided to dress and leave, as there seemed to be no point to staying.

That was when she saw the note partly covered by the pillow.

With trembling fingers, she picked it up and willed her eyes to read the words written there, her heart getting heavier and heavier by the minute, until with a sob, she flung the note away, dressed hurriedly and left the room that smelt so strongly of lust, of sex, of broken hearts and broken dreams. The soft click of the door as it shut magnified a thousand fold inside her heart, just as his words played around inside her head, never to be forgotten.

Weasley,

Stay as long as you like, the room's been paid for

for the duration of the day and night. Great night, by the

way, you were always the best lay I've ever had. If you

want to do it again, owl me. I might not get back to you

right away, I'll be busy getting married, but after the

honeymoon, I'll be more than happy to pick up where we

left off. Sorry about disappearing on you like this, got to

pick up the Mrs.. But I'm sure you understand that,

being in the business that you're in.

Til next time, then.

D.M.