A Fever You Can't Sweat Out

Ginny straightened, organizing the elastics on her underpants. Any minute she knew she was going to throw up and hated herself for undressing completely. She should have just hiked up her robe or something. Anything to not have to be still standing in his office, mostly naked body bathed in firelight. She mentally kicked herself for ever getting so familiar with the icy man. She didn’t regret their arrangement, far from it, but she regretted what she let him do to her.

She risked a peek at his back, his form standing straight and seemingly more at ease with its surroundings, if there were even possible. She didn’t want to make eye contact, though, and quickly averted her eyes and returned to the task of covering herself with renewed vigour.

“The fuck seemed to do you some good…” she inwardly cringed and cursed her stupid Gryffindor pride and bravado.

He turned to face her fully, and smiled. It was clear he wasn’t going to rise to her bait. “Miss Weasley, you’ve played your part well to point. I expect a call in a week to confirm our engagement has proved fruitful.” He turned once more on his heel, filling a glass of brandy before sitting down at his desk. He smirked lazily at the desktop, and took a deep satisfied breath before closing his eyes and stretched comfortably. She was clearly dismissed, no longer useful (until she popped out their baby) and it made her feel dirty and cheap. It didn’t help matters that she could still feel the product of their coupling squishing about inside her. All she wanted to do was wipe it out, get rid of the cold and tangible evidence of just how noble-y screwed she was, but she knew if this child didn’t take she’d only have to do it again. She knew the potion was supposed to mean that there would be no question as to the efficacy of their act, but it HAD been a few days since she consumed it. The panic set in and she made a break for the floo without preamble.

Muttering as clearly as she could the name of her destination, she got one last glimpse of the Malfoy patriarch’s rich office before the green flames swirled her away. There was something so damning about the image; she knew her life was forever completely changed after this night.

**Ladies and gentlemen, due to circumstances beyond our control we are unable to continue our broadcast of dance music. We shall continue now with a piano interlude**