AN: This ridiculous little plot bunny came to me after a friend let me borrow her Nine Inch Nails Pretty Hate Machine CD. I'll list the pertinent and abbreviated lyrics below. By the way, if you like what I write, Draco/Ginny style, I will divulge my secret. Lots of angry music. NIN, Alanis Morissette, Madonna, No Doubt, Evanescence and David Bowie. Trust me, though I've never done a song fic, Draco and Ginny are ripe for the musical pickings. And of course, as always, dedicated to Manda, who reminds me that Slutty!Draco is unequivocally hot and needs to be jumped up on. I've never written a fic like this, so I really need reviews and thoughts. I plan for this to be completely slutty, smutty, and pretty damn hardcore. Warnings for OFC FemmeSlash and sexualized violence later (NOT rape).
The Only Time
I'm drunk.
And right now, I'm so in love with you.
And I don't want to think too much about what we should or shouldn't do.
Lay my hands on Heaven and the sun and the moon and the stars.
While the devil wants to fuck me in the back of his car.
Nothing quite like the feeling of something new.
Maybe I'm all messed up. Maybe I'm all messed up in you.
But this is the only time I really feel alive.
I swear. I just found everything I need.
The sweat in your eyes the blood in your veins are listening to me.
Well I want to drink it up and swim in it until I drown.
My moral standing is lying down.
Nothing quite like the feeling of something new.
Through the cloud of smoke and haze of heat that covered the sweaty, gyrating room, she observed him intently. Sipping her drink carefully, she noted smugly that she appeared to be quite the gate crasher here at this obvious birthday party.
She'd stepped into Every Flavor that night with every intention of meeting her friend, who was the bartender, and sitting gracefully at the bar. Just home from America, she needed a stiff drink and Colin would provide it.
The night was damp and an earthy smell had pervaded the air. An April shower sprinkled relentlessly. She'd Apparated home and changed into muted clubbing attire. She confidently strode on spike heels from her apparition point in Diagon Alley to the most celebrated club in English wizarding society.
The special doorman for that night had obviously assumed she was hired entertainment, or was simply beautiful enough to be with this crowd. He'd not even checked his lengthy list for her name, and had he known who she was, would have laughed her into next week.
***
Good Merlin, was that really him? He'd come a long way from slicked hair and black robes. Ebony leather boots were topped with form-fitting, low slung black leather pants. And, holy Circe, that shirt. He was dancing so quickly it was hard for her to tell for sure, but he appeared to be wearing a silver mesh shirt that exposed, yes, exposed his midriff.
He was quite skilled at holding his tumbler of what Colin had told her was lemon vodka aloft over his fellow dancers' heads. Unencumbered locks of platinum fell over his forehead and out of the black thong that held it in a tight gather at his neck.
Of course he'd grow it out. His father's dead, there's no one to nag him on it.
She spied on him from her perch at the end of the bar, where she was cloaked in darkness and he was unlikely to approach the bar, seeing as how his many friends (many friends?) kept stampeding up, clamoring Colin for another drink for the brat prince.
Gods, even drunk he was sensual. His tall body was certainly well-fleshed, muscular, she was sure, from Quidditch and probably a healthy dose of vanity. She'd seen his smirking face leering at her from countless newspapers and magazines. He was successful, buying and selling property, making hundreds of thousands of Galleons on every transaction.
Eight years since she'd last seen him in the flesh and Ginny Weasley still couldn't help stare at Draco Malfoy and wonder what he looked like naked.
***
"So how long 'sis party going to be?" Ginny asked, re-crossing her own leather-clad legs. "I wanted to dance before the night was out." Colin shrugged and refreshed her drink.
"I don't know, only that my manager told me that I was to stay until the last person was gone. I guess it's Malfoy's 25th birthday or some rot like that. He probably just wanted to surround himself with people who will pretend to like him for one night and buy him drinks," Colin remarked sagely.
Ginny contemplated his words. Perhaps he was right. Wherever Malfoy decided to sit, a space cleared automatically for him and leggy, beautiful women that represented all the colors of the rainbow surrounded him, massaged his shoulders, ruffled his hair. It made her sick to see everyone pandering to him. Oooh! She still hated him, probably always would for no particular reason at all.
But she was still a woman. A woman would have to be blind and deaf to be immune to his charms, however slimy they might have been. And she sat, hating herself, hating him, for all she had ever wanted to say to him but didn't, for the times his gray eyes had involuntarily made her shiver, for all the times she wished she could peel off his immaculate robes and clothes and get him dirty.
She checked her watch. It was only eleven, and the real club goers would be coming out soon. How disappointed they would be if this insufferable git and his band of tagalongs were taking up their dance floor.
Her gaze went back to Draco and the clot of people that were immediately surrounding him. Mostly they were his women, and to Ginny's distinct dismay, their clothes were starting to come off.
***
The music thundered with a heavy, primal beat as Draco watched five of the ladies in their group cluster around him and begin stripteases in front of him. He briefly turned round, raised his drink and threw a triumphant smile to the men in his party who weren't nearly as lucky. He was Draco Fucking Malfoy.
Of course, the beauty of these bare breasts and toned torsos was distorted somewhat from the liquor haze that clouded his vision. He would have to ask around for a Pepper-Up potion soon, because there was no way he was going to miss more of this.
He didn't know their names, only knew that they were his male colleagues' dates and fuck if they weren't licking one another! A particularly stunning black witch was distinctly tonguing the very extended nipples of her pert Asian neighbor.
A blonde behind him was running her cool fingers up his spine, and he was inspired to hand off his drink for a moment and whisk off his clinging mesh shirt. He flung it in no general direction and it landed halfway between the dance floor and the bar. Smiling boozily, he reclaimed his drink, downed it, and began some very excellent dancing with these fine ladies.
As he danced madly, blood began to hammer through his head and without the constant additive of alcohol, he was beginning to realize something. These "dates" of his friends were a pretty assorted bunch indeed. In fact, when Draco chanced a glance at the remaining few ladies and their escorts, he noticed that they weren't acting very chummy at all.
And these women who were dancing nearly naked now seemed a bit eager to grope one another. Something was very wrong here and he was going to figure it out. Perhaps it required another shot or two of vodka. He struggled to exit the knot of girls and staggered to the bar, where he flopped halfway across it with his empty glass.
"Creevey, gimme another two. An' sugar the rim reaaal good, y'know what I mean? 'Course, I'm sure you're no stranger to rims, eh?" Draco laughed at his brilliant joke. There was no way that Creevey wasn't a pansy. Never mind that he had shadowed Ginny Weasley. She was probably just his cover for all those years. Though, Draco mused, the flake sure did make an excellent drink.
Ginny Weasley. Now there was a tart he'd not thought about in ages. He'd heard she was working in the Ministry under the newly reorganized Misuse of Muggle Artifacts office. 'Course, her barmy excuse for a father, excuse me, Minister of Magic, sure made it easy for her to land a prime job. The department had been renamed the Department of Muggle Relations and that bint headed the whole damn thing. He'd heard she was flitting back and forth between countries, forging relationships with select groups of Muggles to help strengthen wizarding relations blah blah blah. It sounded like a pile of shit to Draco.
As Colin handed him his drink, Draco reflected that the only thing that was good about Ginny Weasley was that she'd been born a girl. Though she was no less annoying to him in school, partly by association and partly for a reason he could not name so he simply ignored it.
Cold drink in hand, splashes of his sweat left on the bar, he swaggered back to get to the bottom of this puzzling group he was with.
***
"I'm sorry, Colin. Ignore him. He's drunk," Ginny said, suddenly aware that she was apologizing for the most uppity, awful man on the planet and having no idea why she was doing it.
During his whole exchange with Colin, she'd eyed him steadily from her dark corner at which he never deigned to look. She was about halfway to completing her mental image of naked, bound and mouth-hexed-shut Malfoy. His defined, perspiring chest was sprinkled with blond to match his hair, and it had heaved invitingly as he draped himself over the bar. Lucky bar.
"I don't pay any attention," Colin said shortly. "My only consolation is that I'll make almost a quarter of my pay this night with tips from his party, and that I have Kevin to go home to." Ginny giggled. Colin was such a cool number when anyone questioned him. She thought of Kevin in their functional little house, keeping Colin's favorite foods warm until he arrived home in the early hours of the morning. They were so well matched that Ginny had to admit she was a little more than jealous.
Everyone fucking had someone. All her brothers were married or engaged and many of her friends were too. I'm 24 years old, and am barely less than a virgin. Ron had scared away Dean Thomas, and of course, there'd been the whole thing with Michael Corner. Perhaps she could get Fred and George to create a magic man for her that wouldn't speak unless spoken to. It was worth asking.
***
Draco was inordinately pleased with his behavior. He'd not fallen down once this night. Not that he made a habit of it, but still! He worked his way back to the tables and noticed for the first time that there sure were a lot of people with him. Who was paying for this? It was his birthday!
He only knew a handful of the four or five dozen people that were there with him, and those were his business associates. He tripped lightly to the nearest table to talk with said associates.
"Now, look here Morgan, this beautiful young lady is your escort for the night and you're not paying her a whit of attention!" Draco said sadly, slurring ever-so-slightly and beaming brightly to Morgan's companion, the black witch.
Morgan seemed pleased that Draco was talking to him, and immediately tried to immerse him in the minutiae of the deal his company was trying to secure with Draco's. Draco waved him off with an off-kilter smile.
"Morgan, please! This is not the time for business; it's time for us to get gloriously smashed. Please do feel free to join in at any time!" Morgan smiled blandly.
Draco swept off to the next table, hardly teetering at all. MacNelly and Borden sat with their respective dates as well, and Draco was eager to sit with everyone. He was feeling very expansive and open tonight and decided that it was high time he made some friends.
"Lovely ladies, respected gentlemen, may I have a seat here?" Draco asked, smiling sunnily, quite comfortable, really, being bare-chested in this smoldering room. He sat gracefully, listing only slightly to port as the two men tried to engage him in business natterings that involved their company and his.
"Good gods, men, can't we just sit here and chat with one another?" Draco cried. Borden and MacNelly eyed one another surreptitiously.
"Mr. Malfoy," Borden said, leaning in conspiratorially, "my date has taken quite a shine to you. I wouldn't be brokenhearted if you decided to let her accompany you home. And for that matter," Borden said, casting an appraising eye on MacNelly's companion, "I think her friend wouldn't mind joining you."
Draco's eyes widened for a moment, thinking fragmented thoughts of being ensconced between these two very accommodating witches. Then, fractiously, his eyes narrowed, losing their jovial sparkle. As a Malfoy, he knew nothing was free.
"And so what do you propose I do in return for you?" he asked, suddenly icy and a measure more sober. Borden looked taken aback.
"Well, uh, nothing, of course, Mr. Malfoy. We just want to wish you a happy birthday, is all!"
"By offering me your dates? I've never been propositioned quite this way before, and as nice as it sounds, I'm going to have to say no."
"But, Mr. Malfoy," Borden pleaded, seeing his chances of selling his land to Malfoy decreasing exponentially with every word, "this has nothing to do with business, sir, nothing at all!"
Draco sneered. "Of course it doesn't." Borden first looked cornered, then his face darkened.
"Mr. Malfoy, in all my years of dealing with your company, I've never been treated this way before. Your father wouldn't have liked it, not one bit!"
Draco's anger flared hot and quickly.
"Of course he wouldn't!" Draco said, his voice increasing volume at an alarming rate. "He would have taken your "proposition" with no qualms! I, however, have no wish to be investigated by the Commerce Council for taking whores in exchange for favored business! I am not my father and you would do well to remember it!" he screamed. The entire assembly stared.