The Blood of A Virgin


Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, just the plot.

Summary: Draco has a hidden childhood obsession. It has taken control of his mind; and has lead him to emphasize a Gryffindor as a victim. But what happens when the victim tries to change him?


"You've been avoiding me for the past weeks," Draco complained, walking beside her. His ankles hoodwinked together and threatened him to fall—he settled his hand on her shoulder to keep balance. She turned her head and gave him a strained frown, and he withdrew sharply like his breath.

"Listen, Malfoy, whatever we 'had' is over. It's not like we're friends or anything like that," she noted reasonably.

"There's no need to avoid me, though. Even if you are going out with 'Potter', now," he snarled bitterly.

"Harry's nice and sweet. In other words, he's nothing like you."

"Oh well, it doesn't matter, you have to tutor me on the 'Legged-Lock Transfiguration', remember? Professor McGonagall recommended it," Draco reminded her smugly.

"Only because you failed on purposely...why can't you stop bothering me, anyways? Don't tell me you've taken a 'liking' to me."

"Like I could ever like you, Weasley. I got what I wanted from you."

His cold words stung her like ice in her eyes, burning in aphrodisiacal steel that refused to be tainted in a poison to help cure it's cure. He smirked in satisfaction, turning around, his footsteps soon nothing but a hiss of pain still wrenching in her insides.


"Did Malfoy bother you?" Harry asked at lunch.

Ginny smiled at him, clutching his face, adoring it from side to side. His fingers wrapped around hers, and they leaned over at each other—she tried to sink into the jade of his eyes but it seemed impossible to do so—if only they were silver. "Not at all. He was reminding me 'sweetly' that I have to help him with the Legged-Lock Transfiguration project tomorrow night."

"But, Ginny! Tomorrow's the fifteenth of March!" he complained, sipping his juice, his hand clutching hers across the table.


"Don't you remember?" Hermione interrupted haughtily from afar of the table. "Classes are off tomorrow, because half of the staff is going away to go visit Dumbledore again. They say he's feeling a lot better, and he doesn't fall asleep anymore, so they're expecting him back next week. Only McGonagall's staying."

"That's great," Ginny said, sighing in relief, looking at Harry pointedly. He smiled wryly back at her.

"Yeah, it is, but I still wanted to spend the day with you...and night," he added suggestively, his eyes twinkling as Ron, who was sitting beside Hermione, spit his pumpkin juice out in a spurt of outrage.

She laughed, twisting his hand playfully, his fingers dense and cold and clammy in the heat of hers. She tried to rub warmth into it, but there seemed to be none. "Maybe some other time. Tomorrow, we'll be together, but at night I need to go to the library with Malfoy, alright?"

He mock-pouted, making her laugh again. "Alright."

They let go at last, Harry pondering what could've been a night to remember, and Ginny wondering if silver was better.


"Malfoy! You're not trying hard enough!" she complained, looking at the clock behind him, which read around nine o'clock.

"I am trying hard enough!" he insisted, making a feeble attempt to do the charm again, but only a flash of white came out, but nothing happened to the parchment in front of him.

"Just think of it - think it's already transfigured and..." Ginny stopped, a look of wonderment coming over her face.

"What is it?" Draco said, glancing at her worriedly.

"'s bleeding..." She pulled her fingers to her lips and let out a soft, unwanted gasp escaping from her lips.

"Shit!" Draco took one look at his shirt sleeve only to see that blood had stained through it, and inconsiderable stings were now forcing him to clutch it as hard as he could to deafen how weak it was making him.

"I have to go," he said hurriedly. "I..." he tried to pick up his books, but they fell, and he fell with them, yelling aloud.  The pain seemed unbearable to deny—a drowning, stinging purist of hope died along with him. The almost-vacant library grew still in motion, the only seventh years gazing at them in disgust.

"Draco!" Ginny leaned forward, pulling him up by his upper arms, so that he leaned against her sideways. Trying to hold him and their books at the same time, she caught an arm around his waist, and put all their books into her bag, carrying it over her shoulder. It was quite a hasty entrance they made as they went down to the dungeons and in front of the painting in front of the Slytherin Common Rooms, and he barely managed to mutter the password when he collapsed in her arms again, and she had to drag him inside. Luckily, only a few first-year Slytherins were by the fireplace, steaming their hands to rid of any cold that remained in their skin, and they looked at her in wonderment, but said absolutely nothing as she dragged him to the front of the door of the Prefect dorm.

She set him down gently on the floor, and reached for her wand inside her robes, pointing at him. "Ennervate!"

For a moment, nothing seemed to happen. Then, he fluttered his eyes open, crying in pain. "What?" he asked annoyed, looking upwards at her.

"I need the password," she said desperately.

"Katherine Giller," he whispered, as if those words were a blur of a memory he had seemed to forgotten after he had been drenched, wrenched and soaked in poison that was disguised as pain. . She repeated them to the small painting, and sighed as it opened, an emotion undistinguishable mingled with fear plunging in her insides.. With much difficulty, she hauled Draco into his bed, and started to unbutton his shirt one by one in an uptake of her fingers.

"Look, Weasley, I appreciate you wanting to have sex with me, but this isn't the time," he drawled, obviously dazed and puzzled.

"Shut up, Malfoy!" she seethed. "Unless you want to bleed to death, let me help you, for once! That's what Gryffindors are for!"

He fell silent until she began to edge the sleeves of his upper-arm. Then, he grabbed her arm as if in warning, and she stopped in mid-air, her fingers failing to decide whether or not she should continue the sustainable process of touching the vain skin and gazing into the silver gray of his eyes and the black, dark holes of his pupils, which, Ginny thought, right then, looked as if they were wet and being leathered in many, many bare roots of trees in the winter.

"There's something you should know..." he peeled the shirt off of him, in such a slow, territorial sense that her gasp flew like a wing hovering from an angel.

"Be quiet, Weasley!" he hissed violently, his hand over her sweet, pink-flush but otherwise slightly chapped mouth. "Do you want to attract attention?"

He let go off his hand hesitantly - her lips felt so soft against his skin - and she looked at the Dark Mark.

"Your - your a Death Eater?"

"Yes, but only by force."

"I. can't believe this."

"Look...just something about the bleeding, alright?" he moaned. "It hurts like hell."

"I guess it does," Ginny confirmed, and vanished into his bathroom before coming back with a small, handwashing towel, and placing it firmly on his bleeding arm. It was obvious that she had drenched it with cold water, and she was now tying it around his wound, working silently and productively as she did.

"That's all I can do for now," she said quietly, her eyes boring into his.

You must bed her at the Sixteenth. You must bed her at the Sixteenth of the Third Month...

"There's much more you can do," he offered, pulling her to him. Her eyes widened as he placed her lips over his.


Your master is calling you, your master is calling you...

Harry jerked back and forth in his sleep, the words striking him in his eardrums. He felt as if he was dying in a very peaceful but hazardrous way - it was so confusing...

Touch it...touch it...

Harry clutched his arms around himself, as he woke, shirtless. The pain was groping his arm, and it was bleeding all over, from his fingertips to his chest.

He grasped the Dark Mark, the blood pouring all through his flesh.


It was hard...he was pressing against her so fiercely, thoughts that ran into her mind shocked her...

You can't destroy it.  You can't destroy it. It'll save your life. And more.

She let go quickly, aiming a well smack to his cheek. It sprung the itching sensation all through the side of his face.

"What'd you do that for?"

"How dare you! You know I am - I am in love with Harry." She took the back of her hand and wiped away the creases from her lips.

"If you're so in love with him, why didn't you just ditch me in the library and go to your lover-boy, then?" he asked, his eyes glittering in furious anger.

"Because I am not like you! No matter whom you are, Malfoy, no matter what you are, even. I am a Gryffindor, and I don't just walk away from things like that," she embellished, enraged with herself and him.

There was a silence that wavered now, and Ginny had her back to him, her arms folded protectively against her chest.

Ginny was the first one to speak. "Who's Katherine, anyways?"

"My ex-girlfriend," he said his voice dead-prone. "Her family and mine used to be friends. She used to go to this school until...until she transferred."

"Why did she transfer?"

He chuckled coldly. "Because I raped her."

"Wh-wh-what?" Ginny felt a shriveled, growing shock stab deep within her.

"Are you deaf as well, Weasley? Haven't you figured it out yet? I am obsessed."

"Obsessed with what?" Ginny pried, trying to be cautious.

He wanted to kick her and tell her to go away; but there was something in her voice that seemed to make it alright to tell her - it was waiting to get out somehow.

"Obsessed with you. Obsessed with Katherine, many other people like you..."

"Like me?" Ginny emphasized, sounding scandalized. "What the hell is that supposed to mean, Malfoy?"

His eyes closed. "With virgins."



Her mouth parted in a gaping circle as she turned around, facing him. "Is that that why the first time I came into Transfiguration you said..."


She backed away from him.

"Go ahead," he said, his eyes still closed. "Run away from me, you'll be unscathed. Everybody always runs away. Like I am some kind of freak or something. It's not true. It's impossible to be not like this whenever I can...but I can't be. Go ahead. Call me sick and run out of here, Weasley. That's what most girls would do."

"I - I am not like most girls," Ginny answered, a defense mechanisms clear in her voice.

"That's true. But it doesn't matter anymore. It's probably midnight anyways..."

"I'll stay for a moment."

He opened his eyes, raising an eyebrow. Without a word, he took the blood-stained towel off of his arm, shaking as he stood, and walked to the bathroom, and she could hear the sink water turning on. For moments she closed her eyes, all problems, all dreams, visions, predictions and everything floating out of her mind. If only life could be peaceful; if only she could have quiet...

She heard a yell come from the bathroom. Ginny Weasley stood up, panic rising in her skin, like a perfume leaving it's fragrance and dabbing it with oil and water to brush off anything that was sufficing. Draco hurried from the bathroom, leaning against the wall.

"Draco? Draco?"

His eyes were closed, and he was clutching his arm in pain, his whimpers gentle but recogonizable to be perceived as nothing less than nothing at all.


She walked toward him, and then stopped in an abrupt halting that made her grow dizzy of smell and every flaw wrong with everything  Vomit was a petty, petty but pretty thing to taste at the moment.

A deja vu. When had this happened before?

The first dream. The dream. The dream where you slept with him and...

"What dream?" Draco asked, and Ginny remembered he could read her thoughts. She cautiously drew closer to him, and he reached for her hand -

As soon as he groped it, she whispered in realization, "It's midnight. The sixteenth..."

The words barely left her lips before she and Draco were twisting away into sprinkles of colors, leaving Hogwarts in a blinding, red light.