Summary: Ginny can't deny it, and neither can she ignore it - she is twenty-two, and very, very horny. But after one, glorious night, she realises she might have missed someone right in front of her eyes.

This is obviously an inappropriate and deprived way of misusing JK Rowling's beloved characters, but this is something that came into my head and wouldn't go away. So apologies in advance, but don't say I didn't warn you. Obviously OOC most of the time.

One Night

It was hot. Very hot. It was the kind of hot that made the air thick and heavy, and sleeping bodies wet and sticky. There was no relief from the incessant humidity, or the way it made Ginny, wrapped up in her sheets, toss and turn and wriggle in her sweltering room. She groaned, propped herself up on her elbows, and scraped her damp hair off her face.

"Oh bloody hell..." she sighed, swallowing. Angrily she threw off her covers, stalked into her bathroom, and stripped all her clothes. She wet a cloth and rubbed down her sticky fresh, pulling the towel along her bodies contors, into forbidden crevices, over mounds of hungry skin. She realised that heat was not the only reason she was restless - she was horny. She was frustrated, through lack of sex.

She'd always been a sexual person, even with six brothers. Actually, when she thought about it, it was probably because of them. They denied her the kind of adolesence that gave her curiousity and sexual awakening, and that built into her a drive to defy them to that very end.

Six months was a long time for her. A very long time, and she needed something to quench her sudden thirst. Something instant, something hot, something powerful and seducing all at the same time. She needed to be ravished mercilessly.

As she sat, cooling gently in her naken state, she considered the possibilities. Who in Hell's name could she get to ravish her? She could just go out, find some guy in a club, and get him to take her back to his place. But she'd never sunk to that before and she wasn't starting now. Besides, she needed someone she could communicate with, tell them what she wanted. She needed a specific kind of sex. So what? She needed someone within the circle of her acquaintance who could understand her current need for domination.

Who liked to dominate?

Ginny leapt up, showered, dressed, grabbed a coat and shrugged it onto her shoulders.

&

Draco Malfoy sat back on his bed. It had been a long, long day. Pansy-bloody-Parkinson had dragged him, kicking and screaming, down Diagon Alley and some of the nearby Muggle shops. Then - and this the bit that really, really stung - she hadn't even slept with him to make up for it. That in itself was fine... he didn't want paying for his company with sex. But now he was tired, achey, and thoroughly fed-up. And there was absolutely nothing that relaxed him in quite the same way as sex.

He'd just hopped into the shower, hoping the warm water would suffice, when his doorbell rung from the hallway of his flat.

"Who on Earth--?" he looked at the time. Two in the morning...

Tying a towel around his waist, he stumped from bathroom, through the bedroom, along the hall. He yanked open the door.

"Ginny? What're you going here?" he opened the door to her, and she went straight towards the centre of the living room - she'd walked the path many times since the Final Battle had revealed Draco's innocence and his allience with the Light side. They were friends. Ish, anyway.

"Simple," she said bluntly, dropping her coat onto his leather sofa and shaking her hair off her face. "I need your help."

"What's wrong?" he asked, looking worried. The cool air with making his hair stand on end and the water on his torso tingle. Wasn't it? Or was it that glint in Ginny's hazel eyes as she stared hungrily at his chest?

"It's been six months since I last had sex, and I'm like a dog on heat right now," she said brightly. "Would you mind helping me out?"

She looked at him, with impossible innocence for such a request.

He eyed her wind-swept appearence, her firery hair, her confident stance, her determined smile.

"I'm taking a shower. D'you wanna join me?" he heard himself say, nodding towards the bathroom door.

&

Her back hit the shower stall and chills ran through her as her skin flattened against the cold tiles. Draco's mouth was on her neck, on her mouth, on her sternum. Her skin was burning as Draco's hands went straight to her breasts and teased her nipples, his mouth following quickly and his erection pressed against her inner thigh. Water streamed down her chest and back and clogged her long hair.

He pushed himself against her, shivering touches up her legs, over her stomach, down her back, hands catching in her hair.

"Draco..." she moaned, as his hand slipping uneeringly down between their meshed bodies and his fingers found her centre, sliding easily in, thanks her body's own moisture.

"That's me," he said breathlessly, kissing her roughly across her parted lips. "I'm here all night..."

His hand slid over her arse and pulled her knee up, hooking her leg around him, exposing her centre to him more fully. He pressed into her firmly, holding her in place as he guided his hardened flesh into her. He surged himself into the hilt, holding her steady as her arms flopped over his shoulders. His hand returned to her folds, seeking out the tiny little bud of pleasure.

He rubbed skillfully, tingling pleasure rippling at the ends of her fingers and toes, holding her so firmly that she couldn't have broken away lest she collapse. His hips curled, and he started up an un-rhythmed pace, alternating his thrusts between long, hard, forceful strokes and faster, more furious jerks.

"You're too good at this," Ginny gasped, before her breath was ripped away from her lungs by his fingers' languid movements within her, teasing her, pulling her, glorious electrifying jolt at a time, towards a blinding flash of incredible, amazing, fantastic bliss. She exploded against him, as he drove into her, the continued pleasure wringing every single little spasm of joy from her battered body. Even as she was lolling next to him, his own back stiffened and she felt him erupt within her, mad twitching stretching her, her muscles contracting feverishly. Draco's voice cracked in middle of a powerful moan escaping his lungs.

"Whoa," Ginny breathed, chest heaving. Draco nodded, leaning against her, his nose in her hair, going soft within her.

It was a surprisingly long time before either of them moved. Draco lifted his head off her shoulder and looked at her, her head titled back and her lips parted, her eyes closed. He could feel her breath on his face, her damp body pinned under his, her heartbeat through her sex. It was wonderful.

He leaned forwards and roamed lazily over her lips, his tongue darting out occasionally to taste her. He shifted his legs, realising how stiff they were and wondering how he'd stayed upright at all. Carefully, he held her against him and laid her down on a towel over the carpeted floor, leaning his head on his arm to watch her drifting off to sleep. She shuffled, tucking herself into him, her foot idily sliding up his leg and hooking around his knee. He sighed.

It had never, not once, been like that with Pansy. He tried to remember what it had been like, tried to pretend it had been as good as this in its own way. That was lie. It had never been this; hot and fast and wonderful and synchronised and easy. It had been simple, systematic, dull, now that he compared it with Ginny. How could he have lived this long without it? Without her...

&

Ginny woke up several peaceful hours later. It was still dark, but only just: the sun was rising, flooding light into the bathroom. She ached - partly her back from sleeping on the floor, but everywhere because of Draco. Draco...

She saw him above her, his pale chest rising and falling quietly. She breathed softly, watching his face, beautiful and lost in dreams. His eyes were moving under his long, surpisingly dark eyelashes. What was he dreaming about?

She disentangled herself from him and stood up, groaning. She layed another, thick, fluffy towel over the lean man sprawled on the floor, and padded through to the bedroom. She pulled a shirt from his wardrobe, pulled it on and buttoned it at her belly-button. It swamped her, but she rolled up the sleeves, moving towards the kitchen.

As much as she hated the thought of being caught in the kitchen like some dreadful ninteen-fifties cliché, she was hungry, and she needed a very sweet tea. She felt full, satisfyed, like she'd eaten a five-course meal after long fasting.

&

Draco rolled over, winced, and sat up. Sleeping on the floor did not agree with him.

He pulled a towel around his waist again, and went in search of Ginny.

She was pottering around near the kettle, buttering toast or something. She didn't see him as he leant in the doorway. She was humming to herself, flicking her wand at the dishes in the sink, peeling an apple with a knife. When she noticed him, she smiled.

"Damn it. You're up."

He raised his eyebrows. "I'm glad my effort last night hasn't gone unappreiciated."

"No," she said, popping a piece of apple into her mouth. "I just hate being caught in the kitchen. It's such a--"

"--tired cliché," he filled in. She laughed.

"Exactly what I was about to say," she grinned, catching a piece of apple in her teeth and offering him one, waving it around.

He batted her hand away, dived in, and did what he'd been wanting to do since he'd first seen her. He put his mouth around the half of the apple sticking out of her mouth, bit it back, and kissed her. Sticky apple juice dribbled down her chin, but he didn't care. He just didn't want to let go of her lips. His thumb pressed against the bead of juice and dragged the residue down her chest, until he hooked his thumb into her - his - shirt. She moaned against his mouth.

"Draco..." she murmured, pressing her body back against his. "This was not part of the plan..."

"There was a plan?" he asked, smiling against her mouth. "Can you let me in on it?"

"Yes. Go to Draco. Sleep with Draco. Go home without Draco."

That stung a little bit. Enough to make him let go of her mouth and back away slightly.

"I assumed we were both clear on that," she said, frowning. "Are you alright?"

"Yes," he said quickly. "Yes, yeah, I'm fine. I'll go get dressed, then."

His bedroom seemed unusually cold. He dressed with quick, jerky movements, ignoring scratches on his flanks from Ginny's nails last night, ignoring the warm, pleasant numbness around his groin, ignoring the ache in his arms from bracing himself against the shower stall wall. He did up his jeans, crossed his arms across his naked chest and kneaded the bridge of his nose.

He heard Ginny slip into the bathroom, and slip out again a few minutes later. With a bang that cut him much, much deeper than he expected, the door slammed. He kicked his desk chair, furious. But he didn't know why.

As much as I love and appreiciate reviews and any ideas anyone has, I'd rather not have anyone trying to change the way the characters behave, or simply staring their dis-satifaction with anything OOC. That's all part of the story - it's not negotiable. Sorry Chooks.