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Feel	By : bourbonrain Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Ginny Views: 25971 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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Feel

____________

Even if their side had been victorious, their world still lay
in shambles after the war. Families, including her own, had been ripped apart,
murdered, maimed, destroyed � insignificant numbers among the staggering
casualties reported in the Daily Prophet. Percy. Fred and George. Bill.
Charlie. Ron. Mum. Dad. Gone. Eight lives, her family, diminished to mere
statistics. And she was a statistic too, the other kind, the kind spared to
grieve.

And what else could she do really? So she cried and cried,
wandering around the Burrow alone. After all, who was left to watch after her?
The cottage had seemed so small, so cozy, so overcrowded with red hair and
stern words and hugs and practical jokes and �. And she would stare at Molly�s famous
clock, at the eight haunting hands that not longer moved.

At first, her tears were hot with anger, then salty with
grief, then cool with pain, then gone altogether. She discovered that a human
being could only cry so much. After a while, she drifted listlessly from room
to room, stifling from the heat of summer. She soon busied herself with keeping
up the house, washing the floors several times a day, dusting compulsively,
nearly throwing out her shoulder from flinging gnomes away from the tomato
garden. She lay awake at night, wanting to cry herself to sleep, but she had no
more tears to give. She slept scarce hours as the sun�s rays crept over the
horizon each day. Then, it was back to the furious cleaning, to keeping Molly�s
house in order. She ignored all owls, even the ones from Harry and Hermione.
She needed to grieve alone. And thus, passed many weeks of the summer before
her last year at Hogwarts. Near the end of August, as she was lost in her numb
routine, the happy couple, itself, arrived at her gate.

Hermione enveloped her in a hug, and her fianc�e followed in
suit. They had come with news of their recent engagement. Her smile was empty
as she congratulated them, promising to show up at the December wedding. She
needed to be alone, away from their joy, back in her grief. Even if it was
their grief too. Harry promised to take care of her. Ron�s little sister, he
said, is my little sister now. She thanked him and wished with all her heart
that they would just leave.

But Hermione spotted the pile of bills neatly stacked and
unopened. Despite the younger girl�s protests, she took them, first chastising
her for ignoring them completely, then declared that she would take care of
them. She and Harry. Her protectors. All she had left in the world. And they
had each other. She had herself. She just wanted them to leave.

Eventually, after dinner, they left. Soon, it was time to
return to Hogwarts. In September, Hermione owled her the necessary textbooks
and supplies, strongly suspecting that Ginny would forget to buy them.

It wasn�t that she forgot. Jus that she didn�t care. She
knew they would come after her if she didn�t go back to school, so come
mid-September, she packed her bags, cast the family�s ancient wards on the
Burrow, and made her way to Platform Nine and Three Quarters. And in truth, she
knew it was time to leave the Burrow.

***

Dumbledore was gone forever. She had nearly forgotten.
McGonagall was still in St. Mungo�s, so the Ministry had sent a fussy wizard as
her substitute. Her graduating class was noticeably smaller and the Great Hall
noticeably quieter. She was so numb. Her conversations were routine, fake,
superficial. Her friends expressed their condolences, but what could they
really do? The hours dragged on before she went to her room, unpacked her bags,
and pulled her bed curtains closed around her. In the dark, she lay awake, too
restless to sleep, to tired to move.

The next morning, she received an owl from the substitute
Headmaster, requiring her presence in his office. He told her to call him
Headmaster Doncaster. He proceeded with the regular I�m sorry about your loss,
with the These are hard times of all of us, and made his way to the matter at
hand. Her tuition. With all the damages from the war, restoration of Hogwarts
caused a somewhat drastic increase in the school�s tuition. He understood she
had limited funds. That she wasn�t the only one. But if she was unable to pay
at least a portion of the fee by mid-semester, that she would have to
temporarily pause her enrollment.

Until when? Until she magically uncovered twelve hundred
galleons? Perhaps Harry � No, that was out of the question. They had their own
life now. She needed to manage her own. She said she understood, that she would
find a job. Perhaps in Hogsmeade?

He agreed to grant her unlimited passage to Hogsmeade if she
found employment there. Two years ago, she would have grinned from ear to ear
at this news. Today, she nodded politely and rose to leave.

She did find employment, working at the local pub, serving
butterbeers, wiping tables. The tips were decent. The owner was fair. But the wages
would not be enough, even for the mid-semester payment. She begged for more
hours.

More hours meant less sleep, which was fine with her. She
struggled with her schoolwork. The busyness kept her numb, kept her sane from
what had overtaken so many others. She had to keep up her grades. She wanted to
start Auror training next year. Ron had wanted to be an Auror. Imagine my
babies as Aurors, Molly had said proudly. Ginny squeezed her eyes shut,
remembering hard. She couldn�t afford to forget.

She turned down the quidditch captain�s insistent nagging
that she return to the team. She couldn�t bring herself to even go to the
games.

After some calculations, she realized even the extra hours
would not earn her enough money to pay for Hogwarts. Perhaps she could owl
Hermione? No. No, she couldn�t ask more of them. But she couldn�t drop out of
school. She had to do something with her life. She had to make their sacrifices
worth it. She would not disappoint. She would not fail. She would not need
anyone, except herself.

She worked on the evening of her 17th birthday. The owner
called her to the back, wishing her a happy birthday, and offering an
intangible gift. Ginny�s ears perked at the owner�s words, but she had to think
about it. The middle-aged woman had run the establishment since she inherited
it twenty years ago. Her eyes glistened as she told Ginny her secret.

�Do you think I can afford pearls and cashmere on what this
pub earns?�

Ginny looked at her inquisitively.

�My dear, what I�m about to tell you is only for those that
I have taken a liking to. It must be kept secret. I will have to obliviate you
if you do not take me up on my offer. Understand?�

She nodded.

�Very well. You see, fifteen years ago, I came up with the
idea to open another venue, an exclusive setting that only the very privileged
can afford. Exclusivity is a magic word. When only the best are allowed in, I
can raise prices as high as I want. The patrons are more than happy to pay, and
I am more than happy to accommodate them.

�Now, I understand that you are in need of more galleons,
because the fool Ministry is putting a strain on Hogwart�s students. I can
offer you a way to earn this money, but it requires a bit more than bussing
tables. See, these customers� they are very generous to my employees, but they
also expect more than just a waitress setting their table and taking their
orders.�

Ginny was told she had to make a decision then and there,
that this was her only chance in, or out forever. She ran her options through
her mind. Pause her education. No. Ask Harry and Hermione for help. No. Work
more hours waitressing. She was behind on schoolwork as it was.

She clenched her fists in determination.

That very evening, the pub owner, who now preferred Ginny to
call her Madame Ouelette, led Ginny to the secret entrance to her secret world.
She was not too surprised with what she saw. Dim lighting. Swanky music.
Scantily clad women carrying trays, laying beside men, dancing on a stage. They
wore masks to hide their identities. Madame�s girls were anonymous � beautiful,
anonymous smiles with luscious bodies and soft touches.

Nothing below the waist, was Madame�s policy. Anything
beyond that was either a customer�s violation or a girl�s own business.

Two nights later, Ginny arrived as the new girl, dressed in
an outfit Madame provided, her face obscured by a sequenced mask, her hands
clammy in apprehension. She would be off in four hours. In four hours, she told
herself, she would be back in her bed, getting a good night�s rest before
turning in the four feet long Defense Against Dark Arts scroll she had
hurriedly finished. She fit in easily with the other girls, breasts spilling
out of dark fabric, stomach exposed, legs covered in fishnet.

She felt guilty. What would mum think? Dad would have a fit.
Not to mention her six brothers. But if they were alive � Never mind, she was
an adult now, able to make her own decisions. So, she stepped onto the floor
and made her way to the group of men Madame directed her to.

She flaunted. Flirted. Laughed. Danced. They seemed
satisfied. She arrived in her bed shortly after three in the morning, tired,
but content clutching a bag holding nearly a hundred galleons. She made more in
one night than she previously did in a week.

And so, Ginny Weasley settled into a routine. To those
around her, she seemed to return to her old self. She laughed more, gossiped
again, and even took to flying laps sometimes with the team. Her school work
improved, because the additional wages allowed her to spend time on her
studies. She wrote back to Harry and Hermione, gushing about how excited she
was about their marriage, that Ron would have been happy for them, that school
was going great. It was. In a sense.

At mid-semester, she paid the sum demanded by Headmaster
Doncaster. And thus, Ginny Weasley was allowed to stay at Hogwarts. Two nights
out of the week, she would go to work in Madame Oulette�s exclusive club, and
entertain rich wizards with masked charm. So what if they stared at her ass?
They paid well and that was all that mattered.

Until one day, when he came in.

Actually, the way it unfolded was she had arrived slightly
late, and was received with Madame�s light scolding. Several unexpected groups
had arrived and the club was busier than usual. Thus, one of the club�s most
loyal customers was left uncared for. Where had she been?

Ginny apologized and hurried to the patron Madame directed
her to. He was indeed one of their regulars, a man that she had entertained
several times. His name was Edmund, he had told her, and he liked for her to
dance for him, for her to serve him dry martinis with maraschino cherries, to
let him touch her breasts. He was one of few who liked to touch, as well as her
most generous tipper.

She sauntered over, carrying a tray with his choice drink.

�There you are!� He exclaimed, accepting the glass gruffly.
�We have been waiting. Never has Madame�s been less accommodating.�

�I�m truly sorry.� She purred. �I suppose I have to make it
up to you.�

He pulled her down to sit beside him and chuckled. �Perhaps,
but first let me introduce you to my friend.� He directed her gaze to a man
making his way towards them. Ginny froze as he neared.

He was dressed in very expensive robes, and on his arm was
Soraya, another on of Madame�s girls. It was that familiar, drawling tone. The
same cocky, money-filled laugh. The slicked back blonde hair. The icy gray
eyes. Oh god, Draco Malfoy was holding his hand out to her. The music seemed to
freeze; air seemed to disappear. Why was he here?

She dug her nails briefly into her palm and smiled, giving
him her hand. He grazed her fingertips with soft lips. His eyes held hers
briefly, and for a moment, she was afraid he could see through her mask.

�Enchanted,� he slurred. He was drunk. Ginny avoided the
urge to roll her eyes. Soraya giggled and pulled Malfoy back to her. Ginny
returned to Edmund and slyly took his drink from him.

�I can�t let you have all the fun,� she said, and proceeded
to down the whole glass. Edmund laughed. The evening continued. She lost count
of how many glasses she swallowed, but amidst all the vodka, she managed to
forget Malfoy was two feet away from her, groping some skanky waitress who
giggled at his every word. Ginny was disgusted. Pot. Kettle. Black. But she
didn�t care. She was angry. Why was he out enjoying himself? Why was he not
locked up with a thousand dementors sucking away his soul? Why?

She told herself to focus on Edmund. Edmund, the sole owner
of the Daily Prophet. Edmund, who liked to watch her dance, to drink dry
martinis, to drip the juice from maraschino cherries on her breasts and lick
them off. She was here to make money. Nothing else mattered. She would not let
Draco Malfoy screw up her source of income. She made sure Edmund got his
drinks. A sultry song came on. She gyrated to the beat, grinding against him
more suggestively than usual. When he beckoned her closer, she pushed his hands
under her top and moaned as he pinched her nipples. She threw her head back and
leaned into his touch.

Somewhere, in lifting her head back to meet Edmund�s gaze,
she glanced over at Malfoy. He was starring at her. Soraya was gone. Where was
she? Ginny panicked. Why was Malfoy starring at her? She rose off Edmund abruptly,
but the alcohol had taken its effects. She slumped back on him, laughing,
recovering by whispering suggestively in his ear.

Edmund smiled and gently pushed her off his lap. �Anymore
from you tonight, and Madame will be kicking me out for misconduct.�

�Did I do something wrong?� She reached behind his head,
pulling him in close to her.

�You�re drunk,� he said, plainly, pulling away. �More drunk
than I am. It�s been fun, but �..�

Ginny zoned out to his words. He didn�t seem too displeased,
and as he slipped an extra few galleons to her as he rose to leave, she was not
too displeased herself.

�My friend, Mr. Malfoy, will like to stay a bit longer.
Since your friend Soraya has disappeared, perhaps you would like to take care
of him?� He slipped her a few more galleons.

No, no I can�t, she wanted to say. His father killed my
family. We�re sworn enemies. But she took the galleons and nodded. She
sauntered, or swaggered rather, to Malfoy�s side.

Fuck you, she wanted to scream at him. But instead, she
slowly straddled him and talked inanely about nonsense as he sipped Madame�s
most expensive rum out of a glass in her hands. She took a few sips herself,
and managed to convince herself to forget that this was Malfoy. He�s a
customer. The darkness obscured his light hair. She avoided his cold eyes.
Dance for him, she told herself. But when she rose, he pulled her back down to
him.

�Perhaps, you would like to go somewhere more private,� he
said.

She felt his hardness grinding into her and shook her head.
�I don�t do that.�

�I saw you doing plenty with Edmund. I can pay you twice as
well.�

Insufferable bastard. She shook her head again. �Nothing
below the waist.�

He carelessly squeezed her breasts and shrugged. �How much?�

�How much for what?�

�How much for everything?�

�I�m not a whore.� She rose again, this time more
determinedly.

He pulled her down, harder. �How would Madame feel to know
that you�re drunk? That a prized customer was scared off by your appalling
behavior? One word from me, and you�re gone from this establishment.�

She glared at him. �Fuck you, Malfoy,� she sneered, before
she could help herself.

�Oh, you will,� he replied, without missing a beat. He
leaned in so his breath was hot on her ear. �Weasley.�

She froze. He knew.

�I always knew you were a little whore.� His hands slid
under her top, tugging at her nipples. �Moan for me. Beg, you mudblood-loving
slut. If only your brother could see you now...�

Something in her heart snapped. She jumped up, but he was
quick to follow. �One more move, and you�re out of Madame�s good favors. Now, I
have a thousand galleons tucked away for you. Think about it Weasley � that�s
more than your old man made in a month.�

His voice. The way he sneered her name. His hateful
mannerisms. His cold presence. Strange, but it was the first familiar thing she
had encountered in a long while. In a world turned upside down, the hate
between them had remained constant, offering a strange sense of comfort She sat
back down, smiling up at him venomously.

�Why aren�t you rotting in Askaban?�

�Why? Didn�t you know?� He smirked. �I switched sides at the
end, helped you all win by trading the Dark Lord�s secrets for my life.�

�Coward.�

�Perhaps, but look at me, I�m alive. I�ve inherited my family�s
immense fortune. I live comfortably, more luxuriously than you can ever
imagine. I screw bitches like you out of boredom and revel in the fact that I
survived. Which is more than I can say for your brothers.�

Ginny flinched at his words, but didn�t move. Her head was
still spinning from the drinks. She needed to lie down badly. This was a bad
dream. �I hate you,� she whispered.

�The feeling is mutual.� He then grabbed her hands, and
before she could register what was happening, they were apparated away from
Madame�s club.

She screamed, falling into a heap. She had landed on a soft
Persian rug, at his feet. She fumbled in her hair for a special hairpin Madame
had given her for situations like these � a portkey to take her back to the
club.

�Looking for this?�

She glared up at him just in time to see him tuck the pin
into his trouser pockets.

�You�re trapped.�

She rose shakily and faced him. She could barely focus on
his eyes. He had his father�s eyes, the same icy gray that each member of her
family stared into before they died. She needed to sit down. It was getting
harder and harder to balance in her heels, but she forced herself to stand the
best she could.

�You�re pathetic,� she sneered. �You need to get laid badly,
don�t you?� She laughed. �But even someone as desperate for money as me won�t
to touch you. That�s got to sting. Too bad Pansy is rotting in Askaban. I
personally think you should be there with her ��

�Shut up,� he gritted through his teeth. �Never bring her
name up in front of me. You�re out of a job, Weasley. I�ve already made up my
mind to have Madame discharge you tomorrow morning. The Malfoy name still holds
power in the wizarding world and you would be wise to not upset me.�

�Fuck you. My family� they�re dead. Dead, because � because
��

She couldn�t focus. She wanted water. She wanted to go to
bed. Tomorrow was Saturday � she could sleep in. She wanted to go back. She
wanted to go home. She wanted her family. Her dad to come save her. But he was
dead. She was crying now, trembling, sagging into a pathetic heap at his feet.
He didn�t deserve to live. His father, his father killed her family. Tom
Riddle. His father tricked her into Tom Riddle. She loathed him. Her heart
hurt, clenching harder with every beat, pumping sorrow, grief, anger� She
wanted to die, but she couldn�t give him the satisfaction.

He was touching her now, his warm fingertips chilling her
blood. She had forgotten who she was, what she was wearing. She felt naked,
vulnerable. What had she become? He was removing her mask and she stared dully
at the designs in the carpet as he uncovered a face strewn with make-up and
tears. She could still feel Edmund�s tongue licking her body. She shuddered.
What had she become? His hands were pushing her down onto her back.

She just wanted to sleep.

He was above her now, on all fours, leaning in to� kiss her?
She shivered, turning her face to the side.

�Why me?�

She could smell the alcohol on his breath. They were both so
drunk. No, no, this was a bad idea.

�Shhh,� he whispered. �Because you were one of them.
A Gryffindor. A Weasley. A Muggle-lover. And now you�re a whore. Look where you
are. And look where I am. Above you.�

She shoved him off with surprising force. He laughed. �You
have no choice Weasley. Without your job at Madame�s, you can�t pay for
Hogwarts.�

�I can ask Harry for help.�

�Right, because Harry Potter and his mudblood girlfriend
know about your little job.�

She never thought she could feel this angry. This trapped.

�That�s right, they don�t do they?� he continued. �That can
be fixed as well. You�re at my mercy, Weasley. You�re lucky I�m generous enough
to pay you at all.�

�Asshole,� she spat, crossing her arms over her chest.

He was standing now, staring down at her smugly. She rose
too, to meet his gaze. Oh god, it was those gray eyes. That spiteful blonde
hair, although a bit mussed now from the evening. She wanted to vomit, she told
herself, but she couldn�t. In reality, she hadn�t felt this alive since before
the deaths. The numbness was gone now and she welcomed the hate that replaced
it. That old, familiar hate. Except it was just her now. With him. Alone.

�Ten thousand galleons,� she said.

His eyebrows rose. �What makes you think you�re worth that
much?�

She shrugged. The silence between them was deafening.

�I have a better idea.� He took a step forward. �Twenty
thousand.�

Her eyes widened in surprise.

�Twenty thousand,� he continued. �For an entire year. Until this
date next year, you will be under contract to me. You will come when I summon
you. Then, you�ll really be. My. Whore.�

�I think you�re too drunk for this,� she began.

�No. And if I regret it tomorrow, twenty thousand is nothing
to me. Mere sickles to throw at a pathetic beggar.�

She stiffened. �I can�t. Not for a whole year. Not with
you.�

She waited for a reply, but instead, he was walking towards
her. Then, his hands were in her hair, pulling her face to his. Before she
could react, his lips were on hers. Gently. Once. Twice. This was so wrong. It
was Malfoy. She opened her mouth and his tongue was stroking hers. Somehow, her
hands were all over him. In his hair, running over his chest, struggling with
his shirt buttons. He pushed her backwards. She fell on something soft. A bed.

�I want you to be my whore,� he whispered. �My Weasley
whore.�

There were tears running down her cheeks. Up until now, she
had forgotten how to feel. Her heart hurt so bad. Her mind buzzed with
such anger. She bit his lips, his neck, his earlobes. She gave up on the
buttons and yanked his shirt open angrily. Her fingernails drew red lines on
his back.

She was completely unclothed beneath him. His hands were
everywhere. On her breasts, trailing fire over her stomach. Inside her. It was
so good to hate, to feel. She arched her back and gasped. Her mind was fuzzy
with emotion, with the intense euphoria his fingers were creating in her. She
tugged at his belt, then bit her lip in disappointment as he withdrew his
fingers. He removed his pants and she wasted no time in grabbing him. Stroking
him. Pushing him on his back so she could run her tongue on his length.

His breath shuddered as she took him in her mouth. Up. Down.
Deeper. His fingers were in her hair. Then pulling her off him. He leaned
forward and kissed her, tasting his precum on her tongue. His fingers were back
in her. She was dizzy with hate, with pleasure, with release. She was panting
heavily as he pushed her back onto her back and positioned himself at her entrance.

Her tears were dried now. He hesitated, looking into her
eyes. She tilted her head up and kissed him. He was inside her. Oh god oh god
oh god. Long. Deep. Hard. Harder. The bed rattled with each thrust. Her hands
were gripping his shoulders. Her legs wrapped around him. She clenched around
him. Oh god oh god oh god. She felt him twitch inside her, his cool cum hitting
her walls. He came to a rest and lay his head in the crook of her neck.

This was Draco Malfoy on top of her. Inside of her still.
Had she forgotten? No, no she knew it was him all along. He was kissing her
again, his tongue probing for entrance. She let him. God, it was good to feel
alive. His hands were on her breasts again, kneading, tugging, squeezing.

Soon, he was inside her again. She pushed him onto his back
and slowly lowered herself on to him. Oh god oh god. He was thrusting. Eager.
She didn�t mind. This was Draco Malfoy. She didn�t mind. Because he made her
hate. Because he made her cry. Because he made her remember.

She came, clenching tightly around him. He flipped her back
onto her back and pounded in her. It hurt, but she didn�t care. Pain was good.
She wrapped her legs around him until she felt the coolness of his cum filling
her again.

After a few minutes, he pulled out and lay beside her. She
hurt. She felt empty. She would be sore tomorrow. Hell, she was sore already.

She stared up at the ceiling

�Twenty thousand, it is then,� he drawled.

She didn�t reply right away, but let him pull her to him.
She welcomed his warmth. Who knew Draco Malfoy could be so warm? His thumb was
doing something with her clit. Her heart quickened.

�Twenty thousand it is.�

_________________

End of Chapter One
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