He let go of my chin as I recoiled away from him. His hand slithered up my back, brushing over the nape of neck before seizing a handful of hair; he tugged at it hard, pulling my head back. I tried in vain to free my hands, still held firmly behind my back.

"Let go of me!" I cried, "You're hurting me."

He made no effort to reply, instead he leaned forward, a callous smirk on his face. I could feel his steady breath on the skin of my cheek. I stood immobile, my own breath coming out in harsh, ragged pants. He untangled his hand from my hair and traced it down the length of my face – starting from my forehead and halting on the line of my jaw.

I thrashed about violently in protest causing him to grab the side of my face to still me. I slammed my eyes shut and became static. My protests were a pointless venture, so I remained still. I could find no logic in his perplexing actions – but honestly, right now - trying to work it out was the least of my worries. Right now, I was incapable of thinking about anything, besides his even breath on my skin. It sent a wave of shivers down my spine. I was aware of something sharp tugging on my lip, parting them.

My eyes bolted open – Severus Snape's nose skimmed faintly against my own as his lips made contact with mine. I realised it must have been his teeth I'd felt only moments ago. I squirmed uncomfortably trying to jerk away as his tongue forcefully nudged its way into my mouth, grazing against my teeth. My eyes widened as I endeavoured to subtly tug my arms from his grip but his hands remained vice like.

I couldn't fight any longer, and despite my protests, my body was mechanically striving to lean in to him. It yearned for the attention and gratification – even in the face of my feeble struggling. It desired, unconsciously, to kiss him back – but that wasn't what I wanted. My body's natural reflexes were dishonouring my own morals.

My shoulders slumped in defeat – why was I trying to fight? His tongue stroked the roof of my mouth as he continued to kiss me fiercely. Before I knew it, I was responding to him, my captive arms incapacitated me, but I was able to react to his movements and move my mouth in sync with his.

He moved his hand from my face and traced it across my neck, before delving back into my hair. He greedily clasped it in his palm and wrenched my head back further.

"I don't seem to be flattering myself now," he murmured into my mouth, "and you don't seem to be protesting anymore."

"Well, if you hadn't noticed," I prattled sarcastically, "I happen to be severely debilitated."

He ignored me and ruptured the connection between our lips; he leaned away, positioning himself in an erect stance. His bottomless eyes bore into my own and gradually, with a calculated pace, he let go of my wrists and unravelled his hand from within my hair.

His face was impassive and vacant of any emotion to decipher. I jerked my body away and took several steps backwards, putting a substantial space between us. I waited for him to say something, but as the seconds ticked by, he remained silent and strangely unruffled; the expressionless look on his face had been replaced by an offhand and distant look.

The fire and rage I had experience only moments before had disintegrated and Snape's usual hostility and surly attitude had returned. My brain felt like it had been infested by nargles, it was stuck in an obscured, mystified state of bewilderment. I did the only thing I could think of – I'd say it was perfectly justified under the circumstances – I sprinted from the room and ran down the corridors, I didn't stop until I was in the safe confines of my dormitory.

The girls were getting ready for bed, removing their makeup, brushing their hair out and putting their night clothes on as I banged the door shut behind me.

Lucy was the only one already in bed; she was curled up beneath the sheets, her face flushed and her blonde hair bunched up on top of her head. She looked up when I walked in, "Ginny?" She said, "Where the hell have you been – what an earth happened to you – you look all flustered and you're hair looks like a bejanglia nest – it's sticking up all over the place!"

I smiled unconvincingly and feebly attempted to pat my hair into place, "I've, uh, been in detention."

Her face contorted into a frown, "but why do you look all ruffled and, well, messy?"

I shrugged superficially, "I don't know – part of being a Weasley I guess."

She grinned at this; "anyway," I said, "I'm absolutely knackered, Snape had me writing lines," I lied.

"Ah," she said, nodding in understanding and sympathy as I faked a yawn. She rolled over and I gave a sigh of relief.

I undressed in silence and hastily threw my frayed night shirt over my head. Climbing into bed, I threw the duvet cover over my head, shielding myself from Tracy's prying eyes. I was wide awake, replaying, over and over, what happened back in Dumbledore's office.

What the hell was he thanking – for that matter – what the hell was I thinking?

It hadn't escaped my notice that the sudden change in Snape emerged when he sensed a loss of power on his part. Perhaps that's why he did it, to regain control of the situation, I frowned, but I'm sure there are students with wittier tongues than mine and I'm pretty sure he's never resorted to that before. I shook my head, I couldn't even begin to try and see the reasoning behind it. I couldn't even interpret my own actions. Why had I responded? It was Snape – Dumbledore's murderer – a man loyal to Voldemort, a man who had spent every day of the past six years belittling me. I mean, he wasn't even attractive, was he? I felt my own scepticism at this statement, if he wasn't attractive, then why had I done it? I nibbled at my finger nails absently; maybe my lack of physical interaction had made me desperate for the touch.

I won't deny I've had a few boyfriends, but it was never serious, not in that respect, anyway. My relationships had only ever consisted of a few making out sessions in the common room or the three broom sticks, so was my body yearning for something more – something I had denied it, continuously, but all the same, this was Snape we were talking about.

"Ginny?"

Even in the dark I was able to identify her shrill voice, "what Lucy?"

"What happened tonight?"

"What do you mean?" I hissed, a note of panic entering my voice.

"Was your detention with the Carrow woman – is that why you were all flustered when you came back, did she hurt you again?"

I sighed, "Yeah, but it doesn't matter Lucy. I'm tired so can you just shut up, 'kay?"

I felt a pang of guilt for deceiving her, but how would I possibly explain what happened with Snape?

Speaking of Snape - "Ah crap!" I muttered, it didn't occur to me that I might have to go to my detention with him tomorrow. Would he want me to after tonight, if he did, how the hell was I supposed to face him? Maybe, he'd pretend nothing had happened; all I knew – things were going to get be pretty interesting now.