For a long time, Ginny would not stay in the house alone. It was easy to keep her discomfort a secret for a while, but inevitably people began to notice. Nobody ever said anything to her, but they would make sure that she was occupied in some way, rather than leaving her to skulk about in the woods every day. It was a little patronising, to say the least, yet it was nobody's fault but her own.

She couldn't explain why she felt unable to stay there alone; the place had been home for her entire life, after all. The easiest explanation was that it had something to do with Fred and her grief, which she suspected was still largely unresolved even over a year later. There were probably a lot of things twisted together, leaving her feeling uncomfortable and out of place – the fact that this was it now, there was no going back to Hogwarts in a few weeks time, no light at the end of the tunnel, the way that brother after brother had left and the Burrow became quieter with every passing minute. There was this desire to return to childhood that she had been grappling with ever since the start of the war. She had hated being the youngest in the family and the only girl, meaning she was inevitably over-protected; once it had simply been a case of 'when you're older,' but as she grew up she realised that a lot of the things she wasn't allowed to do were down to much more than her age. She would have given anything to go back to a time before she understood social conventions and niceties.

Generally, Ginny wished she could have done so much differently.

The Burrow was a reminder; it had always been the core of the Weasley family, now it was only a place where the ghosts of their potential roamed freely, left behind by the people they had become. Metaphorical ghosts, obviously.

It became easier. The pain, the regret or whatever else it was that she felt as soon as she walked in the door, it began to subside to the extent that when her father had left for work that morning she had barely noticed. Ron left not long after, though he didn't say where he was going (she had been surprised to see him at all; he spent so much time elsewhere). Her mother had looked at her, lines in her face exaggerated by concern and asked what her plans were for the day. Ginny shrugged and went back to her cereal. Soon after, she was left alone.

It was OK, she thought, as she washed her bowl by hand. She felt OK. There was a certain emptiness in her, which was something she worried would always be there, but as she looked out of the window that was over the sink, she did not feel claustrophobia or despair. She used to cry when she stood there. Things were improving, but at such a rate that she now knew that she needed to help them along.

Today was the third time she had been alone at The Burrow. She hadn't really noticed that, as such. After the first time it wasn't such a big deal. She barely even realised she was alone for hours the second time it had happened. However, this time she had been waiting for everyone to leave, to give her some space so that she had time to plan. As it was, she was just sitting cross-legged on her bed reading the paper.

Negotiations between the Ministry of Magic and the Muggle government regarding compensation to victims of Voldemort were ongoing and there was more hearsay on what the terms might be. Ginny sighed; it was one of those stories that seemed to polarise and scandalise everyone, but on which she did not really have an opinion either way. When people asked her in the pub or over dinner what she thought, she said as much and went back to whatever she was doing, allowing them their shocked or confused looks. Some of them would lecture her on the importance of knowing what was going on in the world. Hermione was the main perpetrator of this. Ginny tried to explain that she did know, but simply didn't have an opinion. It was never a satisfactory explanation.

So there she was, attempting to have opinions about things, when there was the sound of banging coming from downstairs. Frowning, she got up and looked out of the window; sure enough, there was a cloaked figure, banging on the door with their right fist. There was no good reason for anyone to be turning up in the middle of the day. She grabbed her wand from the bedside table and headed downstairs to find out who it was. This would happen when she was the only person around to answer it, of course.

The banging continued as she padded across the kitchen, though it was slowing now, as if the visitor would soon give up. Ginny hesitated. It would be easy to stay away from the windows and pretend that she wasn't in. Then again, if her mum came back and found someone waiting on the doorstep, she would be in big trouble. Leaving people outside instead of inviting them in for a brew was not the Weasley way.

Keeping her wand out, but at a polite angle, Ginny opened the door. She was faced with a harangued looking boy, with pale skin and angular features. He pulled back his hood to reveal a head of messy blond hair, which surprised her; she had seen Draco Malfoy more often than she would have liked and never before had she seen him looking this unkempt. Ugly, smarmy, greasy and foolish, yes, but he always had the air of someone who wanted to look put together. Currently, he looked like he had arrived at his last resort.

'What are you doing here?' she asked, raising her wand slightly.

He threw a glance over his shoulder. 'Can I come in?'

'No.'

'Look, I need to talk to you.'

Ginny folded her arms, enjoying the moment.

'Please?'

She gave him a wistful look. 'Ah, how the tables have turned.'

'If we've ever spoken at all voluntarily in the past, this is the first that I'm hearing about it.'

'Good point,' Ginny said. She took a step back, opening the door a little bit further and cocking her head to indicate that he should come inside. He looked relieved, so much so that he crossed the kitchen and sat at the table without so much as a glance around or a derogatory comment. 'So what's going on? Are you looking for one of my brothers?' She shut the door. 'Only Ron lives here now, and that's kind of by name only.' Instinctively, Ginny had gone to the kettle and set it to boil.

'I don't really know,' he said, running a hand through his hair in an attempt to tame it. 'I Disapparated and this was where I ended up. It's a miracle I didn't splinch myself, to be honest.'

'Am I to understand that you're in bad situation?' Ginny asked, trying and failing to keep the amusement from her voice. She was stood leaning against the kitchen cupboards, the kettle whistling behind her. Maybe she would make Malfoy a cup of tea, but she hadn't decided whether he deserved it, yet.

'Some woman with a sign was chasing me down Diagon Alley,' he said, rolling his eyes. Ginny couldn't determine whether the eye roll was meant for him or the woman that had chased him. It could have been for both. 'She's chasing me, and shouting things at me about class and privilege and pureblood bias and taxes, and I'm looking for an out, but the shops will just have me cornered, so the only other option is Knockturn Alley.' Ginny's eyebrows raised in intrigue. 'Well, yes, exactly. I couldn't be seen going down there. So I was just standing there, letting this old hag berate me and I think “I'll go back to the pub, no one's going to make a scene with the Weasley girl behind the bar”.'

'And did you go to the pub?'

He held up his hands. 'Obviously not. Soon enough there was more of them, harping on about compensation and I panicked.'

'You're right,' said Ginny, pulling two mugs from the cupboard. 'You're lucky you didn't splinch yourself.'

'I was stupid to go down there today. Mother warned me, but I needed to go to the bank.'

'Why today? Isn't it a bit hostile for you down there every day?' She vanished the teabags from the mugs and set them on the table, taking the seat opposite him.

'It's mostly snide remarks and dirty looks,' he shrugged. 'I don't like it, but I understand it. The Dark Lord isn't around to take the blame or the punishment. Someone has to. May as well be me.'

'I suppose so,' said Ginny, picking up her mug. 'Funny how you still call him that.'

'Force of habit,' said Malfoy, his tea still untouched. 'It's difficult to change.'

'The implication being that you are trying.'

'If I don't, then people aren't going to stop chasing me down the street, are they?'

'They'll get bored eventually,' said Ginny. 'Most of them, anyway.'

'Are you bored with it?' Malfoy asked. He dropped his gaze and drew his mug toward him, though he did not lift it. 'It was only a week or so ago you were giving me dirty looks across the bar at The Leaky Cauldron.'

Before Ginny could give him her diplomatic answer, the door clicked open and her mother staggered in, laden down with the weekly shopping. Ginny bit her lip, suddenly uncomfortable; Malfoy looked panicked, as though he hadn't considered that banging on the Weasleys' front door might mean he would be faced with someone other than Ginny.

'You all right with that, mum?' Ginny asked. There was so much shopping to bring in that Malfoy's presence had not registered yet.

'I'm fine, darling.'

Ginny got up and took some bags regardless. 'You do realise that only three people live here, don't you?'

'Four people.'

'Ron doesn't count.'

'Why ever not?' asked her mother, affronted. It was at this moment that she noticed the third figure in the room and stopped, mouth open, in the middle of the kitchen, the door swinging in the summer breeze. 'Mr. Malfoy,' she said. 'Can I help you?'

Ginny cut in. 'Don't worry, we'll stay out of your way.' she said. 'We can go upstairs.'

'I don't think your father would approve, Ginny. I don't think he'd approve of a Malfoy in the kitchen, let alone anywhere else in the house.'

Ginny rolled her eyes. 'Dad wouldn't be bothered as long as I was OK with it. Which I am. And you're being very rude.'

'I'll go,' said Malfoy, getting to his feet. 'I don't want to impose.'

'No,' said Ginny, her voice harsher than she intended. 'You've barely touched your tea. Follow me.' She grabbed her own mug from the table and headed out of the door without another word to her mother, who was apparently in a state of shock so severe that she couldn't speak.

Ginny felt a bit stupid, leading Malfoy up the stairs to her bedroom, but she had made the gesture, so she had to commit to it. She had thought her rebellious phase had come and gone already, when she had gone out with Dean and played more Quidditch than she studied, and when she had led Dumbledore's Army with Neville and Luna. Those were rebellions against her brothers, against Hogwarts, against evil. She had never really rebelled against her parents – it was hard to get their attention in such a way with all the different sorts of teenage rebellions that her brothers had pulled. She should have played the 'taking an unsuitable boy to my room' card earlier, really. Except that she was embarrassed now and she did not want to rebel against them at all. She wanted normality back, but it was out of reach. The most banal of days would never be normal again.

'Sorry about that,' Ginny said, opening the door to her bedroom and gesturing that he should go inside. She felt self-conscious about the clothes on the floor and the pictures on the wall, but he surveyed the room without comment before sitting in her desk chair. Ginny folded the paper and set it on her bedside table before sitting on the edge of the bed.

'It's an excuse not to go home and face my mother yet,' said Malfoy. He set his mug on the desk and looked at her seriously. 'Should we start making sex noises?'

Ginny laughed. 'Thanks for the offer, but no.'

Silence fell between them. Downstairs, Ginny could hear the cupboards opening and closing as her mother put the food away. It was about as noisy as the Burrow got in the middle of the day.

'So, are you going somewhere?' asked Malfoy.

'What do you mean?'

'Well, I couldn't help but notice...' He turned to her desk and lifted the stack of books that were there. 'Magical Asia, A Witch Abroad, Essential Travel Potions, India by Carpet … that's a lot of information for someone planning on staying as a barmaid.'

'I'm thinking about it,' said Ginny, picking at a nail polish stain on her quilt. 'I don't think living here and being a barmaid for the foreseeable future is such a good plan. I can't sit around and accept things are going to be crap anymore.'

'Like I am?'

She looked up at him for a moment, to find a neutral expression on his sharp features. 'Well, yeah. If I were you I would have been on the first Portkey out of here.'

'I was. It only made me feel worse.'

'I'm not like you,' she said, looking at him properly now, hoping to get a rise out of him.

'I don't doubt that,' he replied. He picked up his mug and swigged from it, apparently leaving it empty. 'Thanks for the tea. See you around.'

'See you,' said Ginny, and with a familiar pop, he was gone.

*

Things were coming together. Slowly, silently, Ginny was making progress. She often felt like a prisoner, chipping away a day at a time, hoping that one day the tunnel would reach the outside world. The parallel did everyone in her life a disservice, of course, because they tried their best to be there for her or give her space where needed. Her parents should have lost their patience with her by now, but they had not.

July had given way to August and a particularly humid one at that. She had seen Malfoy – or rather, Draco, as she had come to think of him – a number of times whilst she was working at The Leaky Cauldron. He was never seen there with anyone who might reflect badly on him, kept to himself and tried not to get involved. He always nodded to her when they made eye contact. She noticed that he made comments under his breath a lot. They exchanged pleasantries on a few occasions, but Ginny didn't ever feel like she wanted to stay and chat, so made her excuses (to serve another customer, to get something from the back) and left. Hannah wiggled her eyebrows every time she saw them talking but they never discussed it beyond that. Ginny merely rolled her eyes and carried on with whatever she was doing, safe in the knowledge that she would be leaving The Leaky Cauldron soon enough. She didn't like to think about the things that might happen in the meantime.

When the weather finally broke, it did not hold back. Ginny didn't think she'd ever seen rain like it. She had dashed down Diagon Alley, hood pulled up over her face, hands in her sleeves, but when she got to the joke shop her hair was still plastered to her face. The rain was comforting, louder than the various whirring and vibrating sounds that usually filled the shop. . George was behind the counter, reading the paper, though he looked up when he heard her come in. It was slow, for an August afternoon. There was a group of girls in the corner, but they seemed to be doing more gossiping than looking at the merchandise. Ginny went behind the counter and pulled herself up onto a spare stool as George folded up the paper and set it aside.

'You look awful,' he said.

'Thanks,' said Ginny, her breath still heavy from the running, 'so do you.' She pulled back her hood and shrugged her shoulders out of the cloak, but didn't remove it entirely.

'Ron,' called George, leaning towards the back of the shop. 'Make us a brew, mate.'

'Fine.'

When Ron appeared a moment later, a mug of tea in each hand, his face fell.

'Thanks,' said Ginny and George together, each reaching for one of the mugs from Ron.

'I should have guessed,' Ron said, before grumbling his way back to the kitchen.

'I do that all the time,' said George, waving a hand in dismissal. 'So what do you want?'

'I was wondering what you might think about me going away for a while,' said Ginny. Saying the words aloud for the first time seemed to make everything much more concrete. 'I'm thinking about going travelling.'

George cocked his head, thinking it over. 'Mum will go mental,' he said. 'But I do think it would be good for you.'

'I was hoping you would say that. Will you help me with damage control?'

He grinned. 'If by that, you mean will I do something worse in order to distract mum, then you've come to the right place.'

'Thanks.'

Ron reappeared, his own mug of tea in hand. He leant against the door frame, his brow furrowed.

'What's this about Malfoy turning up at ours?'

'What do you mean by "ours"? Harry's place, Hermione's place...'

'You know what I mean,' said Ron. 'Mum said Malfoy was in the kitchen and then you took him upstairs.'

Ginny sighed, exasperated. 'Firstly, that was ages ago. Weeks ago. Secondly, you just gave me the whole story, so why are you even asking?'

'To be fair,' said George, 'you taking anyone up to your room is news these days – not that I'm not pleased about that – let alone a Malfoy.'

'It was nothing,' said Ginny. She put her half drunk tea down on the counter and dropped down from her stool. 'You're all crazy. See you later.'

When she arrived back at the Burrow, nobody was in. If that wasn't made immediately apparent by the locked door, then it was by the atmosphere inside, which was quiet and still. Ginny found that she no longer feared these moments, or ran from the quiet, but was slowly coming to enjoy them, to crave them. With a sigh, she dumped her soaking wet cloak over the back of the nearest chair and went up to her room. She had the afternoon free and had intended to spend it out in the garden, but the weather had put a stop to that.

It looked almost like evening outside, Ginny mused, as she looked out of the window. The idea that it might still be sunny on her afternoon off had been ludicrous, really. The British summer was reliable in that it withdrew whenever you wanted it the most. The sun had gone, but the sticky, stuffy feeling remained, so she opened the window. There was another argument for getting away – the weather. Sticking an arm out, she captured some raindrops in the palm of her hand. Goodbye, lovely afternoon, she thought. There was a flash of light, then a few moments later a rumble came from somewhere in the distance. Yes, summertime was passing with a flash and a bang.

A second bang sounded, this one much closer than the first. So close, in fact, that Ginny would have sworn that it came from within the house. Abandoning her spot at the window, she went out on to the landing to listen. Nothing. Her dad was at work, her mum was with Fleur and the baby on a Thursday and Ron was at the shop. Nobody should be here, but she felt sure that she was not alone. The Ministry had insisted that the last of the Death Eaters had been rounded up months ago, but suddenly Ginny felt unsure of that fact.

'Homenum Revelio,' she whispered. A wisp of slightly pink smoke left her wand and shot off downstairs, showing her that there was indeed someone down there. With a deep breath, Ginny followed, ready for a fight. In the kitchen, a small pink cloud was hovering over Draco Malfoy's head as he took off his cloak. Ginny let out a sigh of relief, clutching the nearest chair. 'Finite Incantatem,' she said. The cloud dispersed. 'Didn't your mother teach you manners? You can't just walk in to my kitchen uninvited.'

'Sorry,' he said, laying his cloak on top of hers. 'It was raining so much and...'

Ginny laughed. 'The lightning scared you, didn't it?' He looked soaked, worse than she did; he couldn't possibly have been outside for the short moments between Apparating.

'No,' he said. 'But it was loud and I thought you wouldn't hear me knocking.'

She rolled her eyes. 'Come upstairs.'

He looked around, confusion dominating his face. 'But there's no one here to annoy.'

'Come on,' she said, cocking her head toward the stairs.

Draco took a seat on the bed this time, just left of the head, his back against the wall. Ginny closed the door and then loitered there, wanting to sit beside him but unwilling to do so.

'So, why are you here this time?' she asked. 'Were you being chased down the street again?'

He swept some hair off his face. 'That would be simple, wouldn't it? I didn't want to go home. Couldn't bear the idea of walking through those doors.'

'And you thought you'd come here instead?' She was still standing in the middle of the room, feeling awkward. Draco looked around, his eyes lingering over her bra on the floor next to the washing basket and the picture of her with Bill at his wedding.

'It's strange. I wanted to see you. Even though you've been avoiding me since the last time I turned up here, I thought, the only person who I want to see right now is Ginny Weasley.'

'But we hate one another,' Ginny said, her voice low and unsure.

He shrugged. 'Like I said, it's strange.' He looked genuinely mystified, his grey eyes wide with the sort of sadness Ginny often saw in her own.

'Strange that we should see the world so similarly,' said Ginny. She finally allowed herself to cross the room and take a seat beside him on the bed. Their feet stuck out in mid-air over the side. There was another flash outside and a clap of thunder soon followed it. Raindrops clung to the windowsill. Ginny wanted to take off another layer of clothes, but her shoulders and arms were already bare and the removal of her jeans would leave her in her knickers. 'Why don't you want to go home?'

'It's claustrophobic, it's never-ending, it's a constant reminder of who I am, who I was, who I'm expected to become.'

'And of who you're not,' Ginny said, thinking of the blank Auror application form that was collecting dust on her desk.

'Right.' He shook his head, as though shaking away a thought, sending little raindrops that had collected on the ends of his blond hair onto Ginny and the bed. 'It's just everyone seems to be making all these decisions. Everyone seems to know what they want their lives to be, and I don't. All I know is that I don't want it to be the life set out in front of me.'

'Not to be a story-topper or anything,' said Ginny, 'but at least you have something set out for you. I don't even have that. I'm wrapped in cotton wool and left to be.'

'I think you have something set out,' said Draco. 'Is that a ticket?' He gestured to the bedside table, where her Portkey ticket was pinned under a photo of all the girls in her first year dormitory at Hogwarts. Ginny inhaled sharply. It was as if she had been caught out in a lie, but the fact remained that if she had not wanted anyone to see it, she wouldn't have left it there.

'Yes,' she said at last, 'that's a ticket.'

'When do you go?'

'Two weeks.' It seemed to be ridiculously soon, too soon, but she suspected her parents would have driven her insane. Besides, her body might cease to function if she remained at The Burrow after the first of September.

Draco nodded, his gaze fixed on the ticket. 'Does anyone know yet?'

'Just George, but he doesn't know when. And you.'

'Is that why you've been avoiding me at the pub?' He turned to look at her now, his eyes meeting hers and searching them for something more than what he was asking.

'Maybe,' she said. 'I don't know. Talking to you at work made me uncomfortable.'

'Why?' he asked, his voice low and gravelly.

'I don't know.' Ginny broke their eye contact, looking out of the open window as another flash of lightning broke the gloom of the storm. She waited for the thunder, then said: 'This feels private. This … weird connection. It's not for outside of this room.'

When Ginny retold the story of that afternoon later, she would say that things became a blur after that moment. The next thing that she felt was Draco's palm cupping her cheek, turning her to face him. His eyes were darker than she remembered them being only moments before, almost black with lust.

She didn't know who leaned in first and initiated the kiss. Maybe they had all they needed to know from the looks on each other’s faces and it was not either one of them who initiated it. But a moment later their lips met and Ginny felt as though she had jumped into a river head first and was being swept away by the current. A flash of lightning brought her to slightly and she broke away, gasping. Draco made a noise she couldn't quite find a name for, pulling on the edge of her top as he did so. Ginny kissed him again, briefly, before pulling back and getting to her feet.

'What are you doing?' Draco asked, his voice cracking slightly.

Ginny didn't answer until she had reached the door and slid the lock across it. 'Making sure we're not disturbed,' she said. He looked like a little boy, sat there, still half wet from the rain, waiting for her to come back to the little single bed. This was crazy, she knew that. If anyone in her family found out about it then they wouldn't be able to look at her the same way again. Never mind just her family, everyone in her life would look at her differently; this was a man for whom it was not entirely surprising to be chased down the street by an angry mob.

As she moved back toward him, he began unbuttoning his shirt, making him look much less like a scared young boy and more like a man ready to take control. Ginny, unwilling to be outdone, peeled off her top, letting it fall to the floor as lightening crashed outside. She climbed onto the bed, straddling Draco.

'This is the worst idea I've had in a while,' said Draco, bringing up a hand to skim over her shoulder and down her side. Ginny traced his collar bone with her fingers, and then pushed his shirt over his shoulders. He was so pale, paler than she was, even.

'You're not backing out, are you?'

He smirked, hands reaching behind her. 'Not even a little bit.' A moment later and her bra was gone, leaving her to wonder how it was that Draco had the control when she was straddling him. His lips were at her neck, trailing soft kisses down as he brought a hand to her breast for the first time. Ginny sighed, her hips bucking slightly, pushing her down onto him and causing her to feel the hardness in his trousers. She bit her lip, her eyes fluttering closed.

She had let her guard down, allowing him to lift her up, turn them around and place her on the bed before she had even registered what was happening. Her breath was coming in shallow gasps. Her mind seemed to be full of the sound of the rain hammering down outside and the feeling of his lips on her nipple, his hand snaking its way down her stomach and into her jeans. He pressed a finger over her, but her knickers were still in the way.

'Draco.' He began to make little circles with his finger and his tongue, making it hard to get words out. 'Please, Draco.' She reached down, pawing at his trousers but unable to gain any purchase on them.

He sniggered. 'In a minute.' He was going for her jeans now, unbuttoning them and pulling them down. She raised her hips to help, feeling drunk, in a trance, or at least as though she wasn't really there. Then he was kneeling up in front of her, undoing his own trousers and pulling them down, his eyes roaming over her naked body all the while. This was happening, this was going to happen. A feeling of vulnerability kicked in, a realisation that Draco Malfoy was looming over her naked body and all she wanted in the world was to feel his entire body against hers, to push away reality and revel in his skin all over her.

'What time is it?' Ginny asked, as Draco hooked his thumbs inside his boxer shorts. 'My parents are going to be back sometime after five.'

'They could be banging down the door,' he said, discarding the underwear, 'and I would not give a flying fuck right now.' Before she could protest, he was leaning over her, kissing her, pushing against her.

The feeling of his chest against hers was intoxicating. But it would not be enough. She reached down, taking his cock in her hand, becoming familiar with it. He groaned, pressing his forehead into her shoulder. Somewhere beyond them the storm was still raging, but that was another place now. They had long since left the real world behind.

'Draco,' Ginny said, the name becoming too familiar a phrase already, 'I need...' she trailed off – he had already taken the hint. He grabbed her arms, holding them above her head with one hand and then moving into position.

Their eyes met for half a second, all sadness and wanting, before Ginny let hers fall closed, bracing herself. She didn't know why she was nervous. She dug her nails into his hand as he entered her, her sharp intake of breath punctuating his gasps. Then he started to move and she remembered why it was that she wanted this, how it made the world slip away, how each sensation felt like heaven on earth.

She brought her knees up around him and matched him, thrust for thrust, gasp for gasp. With her right hand she gripped on to one of the wooden bars that made up her headboard, whilst the fingers of the other intertwined with Draco's.

If she hadn't want to rebel before, she was now, anyway. Having sex – great sex – with a Malfoy in her childhood bed; this really cemented the end of her childhood more than coming home from Hogwarts could have. She was so desperate for her innocence back, but here she was, flinging it away without a second thought. This had always been a sacred, personal space, to the extent that Harry had actually refused to have sex with her in that very room. Though, that may have had more to do with it being the home she shared with her father and six brothers. Nowadays she had no such problems and the man she was with had no such concerns.

Draco unclasped his hand, reaching down between their bodies and causing her to dig the nails of her newly free hand into his shoulder. He made a noise, halfway between a groan and a laugh. She clenched her legs around him tighter. It was like running towards the edge of the cliff – she wanted to make it over, but she wanted the part where she hovered, her toes in mid-air, to last forever.

'Merlin, Draco, I can't...'

He bit her shoulder lightly, increased his speed and said, 'Yes, you can, Ginny.'

What it was that he meant, she didn't know, but it didn't matter because she was coming, floating between the cliff and the sea, wave upon wave of pleasure pulling her downwards. She gripped Draco as hard as she could, her eyes squeezed shut, desperately holding on to that moment. As she opened her eyes, she was met with his and they widened as with one, two, three final thrusts, he came into her.

The storm had passed. Ginny could still hear the rain, but it was more of a distant drizzle. She could smell it in the air, a cool freshness that had not been there before. This, despite the fact that Draco lay on top of her, his forearms either side of her the only things keeping him from squishing her. It was lighter now, the gloom was gone.

'Get off,' Ginny said. 'I'm boiling.' That, and the feeling of her heartbeat thumping loudly whilst his raced a dull flutter against her, was making her uncomfortable. He rolled over without a word, barely fitting in to the space between her and the wall, causing Ginny to feel a chill on her right side, whilst her left was still pressed against Draco's sticky skin. 'That was great, though,' she said, partly because it was true and partly to fill the silence.

'It was better than great,' Draco said. He leaned over and kissed her on the top of the head, which was the nearest thing to his lips at that particular moment. 'Let's do this again, sometime soon. I definitely think that it would be easier to face going home if there was this to look forward to in between.'

Ginny shook her head. 'I'm still leaving in a fortnight. And I'm pretty sure that when the endorphins wear off we'll realise this was a mistake.'

'Oh, it was definitely a mistake,' he said, shifting onto his side. He leaned down and kissed her again, this time on the lips, his right hand reaching across, idly playing with her right breast. 'This is the sort of mistake that I know I'm making but I make over-' he kissed her, 'and over-' another kiss, 'again.' His hand trailed south but she swatted it away before he reached his destination.

'The reason this happened is because we're both in a mess,' Ginny said. She was trying to return to a world where logic was intact. 'I don't think we should see each other again until we're not in a mess. Then we'll see what happens.'

'So you do want to do this again?' he asked. Ginny nodded, a heat that had subsided between her legs building once more. 'Good,' said Draco, 'I do, too.' She didn't stop his hand now, instead relaxing into the feeling of his fingers moving against her, sliding into her, bringing her running toward the edge of the cliff once more.

'Meet me,' she breathed. 'One month. On the beach in Goa.'

'Agreed,' said Draco. 'We won't see each other for a month, starting from when I leave this room.'

Ginny bucked against his hand. 'That seems fair.'

*

'I know this seems out of the blue,' she said, staring at the blank faces of her parents across the kitchen table, 'but I've been thinking about it for a while and I really think it will be good for me. I want to lay out my own path instead of just treading water the way I have been.'

'Well, what are your plans?' her father asked. 'Where will you go?'

'I'll start in India,' Ginny said. She crossed her legs. 'Hopefully there'll be something for me there.'