Standard disclaimers apply.
Escalation
Oh, for heaven's sake, a part of her thought as the sudden cold of the stone wall against her back jolted it from its stupor. This isn't even an alcove anymore. Her fingers wound through his white-blond hair as he nipped at her throat, his breath hot and moist on her skin as he muttered unevenly. His hand had been sliding up her inner thigh, charting new territory, and now his fingers curled at the hem of her cotton knickers. She gave a little moan despite herself and dug her nails into his shoulders.
There was a perfectly good reason why Ginny Weasley was practically shagging Draco Malfoy in plain sight in the hallway. It had started with Michael Corner, really. She had thought that if only she could tip Harry off to the fact that she was a desired girl, not just Ron's sister, that he would come to his senses, but the Boy Who Lived didn't even bat an eyelash at that turn of events. She decided to strike closer to home next and took up with one of Harry's dorm mates, but there had been no reaction to that, either. Hell, even when Harry had seen her snogging the life out of Dean, his only response had been a shrug and a blatant refusal to acknowledge the situation. Malfoy was her latest weapon in an arms race against Harry's obliviousness. When their first clandestine encounters went undiscovered, Ginny had chosen riskier locations for their increasingly frenzied meetings and the idiot had gone right along with her to the point where he was the one who couldn't even be bothered to pull her into the nearest classroom. It was only a matter of time before they were exposed, and she was hoping fervently that it was sooner rather than later and that Ron would be the last to know. Surely, this was the one thing Harry couldn't possibly ignore. She wanted a reaction out of Harry, any reaction. She was sick to death of being invisible.
Malfoy kissed her, so intensely that all thoughts were driven out of her mind. Their tongues began to duel, but he broke away suddenly. Malfoy never kissed her for very long; it interrupted his steady stream of whispering. "Potter doesn't want you, he doesn't even look at you, you're nothing to him," he breathed harshly, cupping her bottom so tightly it hurt. His words were like rain to Ginny. He'd been saying them since the first time they met like this, and went on in this vein relentlessly the entire time they were together. It was all he ever said, the only price he demanded for allowing this. He was trying to shame her, but she didn't care. It was patently obvious he had no idea what he was talking about, and she would never expect him to understand. Oh yes, she hated Malfoy. But in times like these, she started hating Harry a little bit, too.
Draco skimmed his fingers along the boundary between skin and soft cotton, wondering if she would tolerate this new intrusion. He winced as her nails bit into his shoulders but took it as an invitation and pressed forward, spurred on by her guttural moan.
She was never like this when the sun was out. He'd sought out her face hopefully once in the Great Hall soon after this started happening but she'd steadfastly refused to meet his gaze. They ignored each other as always during the day, but at night…at night….
He remembered the first time it had happened. How smug he'd been to catch her skulking in the hallways at midnight! It nearly made up for yet another evening of disappointment in the Room of Hidden Things. An inspired comment about how being too poor to afford a timepiece was no excuse for being out after curfew had elicited absolutely no reaction out of her; not even her nostrils had flared. She'd walked right up to his hiding place in the darkened classroom even though his wand had been drawn on her, and all he'd had was a fleeting impression of her flat, impassable eyes before she had struck at him like an adder, dragging him down by the mouth. He hadn't been able to believe her cheek, her sheer audacity! Had she really thought this was the way to bribe her way out of detention? Did he look like Zabini? He'd shoved her away but she had refused to let go and had ended up swinging around by her arm, fastening on him once again. This second time around he had felt her desperation. It hadn't been simple worry over a detention; it was deeper, wider, and had resonated within him. Days and days in the Room, falling behind in his classwork, Pansy nagging him about ignoring her during their rare time together…his own frantic despair had recognized hers, and the feeling of knowing, of sharing, had thrummed through him straight to his groin and he'd pulled her close, intent on feeling every surface of her pain and comparing it to his own.
She'd appeared again on his next patrol, and every patrol after that, but she never spoke. At first they were careful to hide, but now she was becoming downright careless, forgetting that the hallway in front of the kitchens probably wasn't an ideal location for a tryst. Draco didn't care to remind her anymore. He was waiting with a sort of eagerness for the day they were discovered, waiting to see the apoplectic look on Weasley's face when he realized that his precious little sister was sullied by his sworn enemy. Until then, he clung to the Weaslette like an Afferburr. She was a small, atrociously red speck of succor in a vast wilderness of adversity, the only stability he had right now. All he could do was whisper inexplicable truths to her and hope that one day she'd give some indication that she understood.
I want you. I watch you in the Great Hall. You're everything to me.