Who: Ginny & Rabastan Lestrange When: February 15th, 2004, very late. Where: Their Home What: Straight up hate sex. Rating: High Warnings: Rape.
Fuck me like you hate me Dig it up and hold me out Fuck me like you hate me I love the sound when you come
Ginny couldn't sleep. Her husband was in the bed next to her and the idea of him made her skin crawl. How many nights had she spent like this, locked up as his pretty little wife? She was tired of playing the role he'd written for her. Ginny stared up at the ceiling before tossing the blanket off of her and slipping out of the bed. She wasn't going to be able to sleep next to him, not again.
Walking downstairs, Ginny moved to the kitchen, walking pass the large bouquet of flowers he'd sent to her the day before. They were gorgeous, she had to admit as much. They were a truly gorgeous display of the charade she was forced to live out every day. Ginny paused to look at them again, breathing them in deeply. At the very least, at least her husband surrounded her with pretty things. She grabbed a bottle of wine from the rack and plucked a glass from the cabinet. Her silk robe, a deep blue adorned with hand painted flowers, swished lightly as she walked into her second favorite room of the house, her husband's study.
Curling up on the sofa, Ginny poured herself a very large glass of wine and drank it back quickly. It seemed as though her brothers were having marital issues as well. It was so tempting to write them, to share her misery, but Ginny knew better. She wasn't allowed to do that, wasn't allowed to shatter the illusion of the Minister and his perfect, doting wife.
"Fucking prick," she muttered and took another large drink.