Keep It Unclean
Chapter One
'What do you think?'
'Honestly, I think it's a little too…squeaky clean.'
Ginny frowned and looked down at the rejected manuscript lying on the table. 'I'm sorry. Could you possibly clarify your meaning for me?'
It had taken Ginny Weasley a whole year to get to where she was today. A year of toiling over a hot typewriter. Twelve months of forcing herself to drink copious amounts of coffee and eat ice cream by the gallon. Okay, she reasoned, the latter hadn't been too difficult. Frankly a year had been a fairly long time for Ginny as she worked on her novel. She'd lost out on parties, summer picnics and…well money really. No one wanted to pay you for sitting round the house writing and eating. Now though, that was all going to change. The publisher would love her work. There'd be a public outcry for more copies. She would become a literary star…
'As a publishing house we only really take on manuscripts that have the potential to be a money spinner. Your book lacks this quality. What we're looking for is a book with drama, romance, adventure, mystery. Oh and sex. Sex sells, Miss Weasley, and your book is definitely void of that.'
Or not.
'Isn't the whole,' she dropped her voice to a whisper, 'sex thing a bit of a cliché?'
'Exactly!' Blaise Zabini clapped his hands together. 'I think a cliché would sell beautifully in the current market. There's nothing women like more then a good fly by the seat of your pants romance. As they say, the customer is always right. You've got to tailor your story to what the masses want and they most definitely want sex.'
'Isn't that selling out a little?' Ginny picked up her manuscript and flipped through it. 'Anyway I think I've got all the other factors you wanted. I've got the romance, the drama, the adventure. It's just I thought sex would somehow cheapen the whole experience. Can't Emerald and Dr. Handsome have a higher form of love? I never thought love had to be…'
'Speaking of clichés,' Blaise interrupted, 'Dr Handsome seems like a bit of a wimp if you ask me. Not at all the romantic hero people are looking for.'
'But he's perfect! I made sure that he had all the qualities of a flawless man,' Ginny huffed with indignation. 'I mean, he bloody sacrifices his life for her! Don't you think that's heroic?'
'Actually I don't,' he leant back in his chair and grimaced. 'He's the most unrealistic creature. You're right, he has no flaws. That's the problem! There's no dark past, no irritating habits, no sex drive to speak of. How many men do you know like that? Emerald falls instantly in love with him without there being any doubts in her mind. And don't get me started on Dr. Handsome's response to her clingy behaviour! No man in his right mind would say some of the things he comes out with.'
'Example?'
Blaise opened a draw and pulled out a battered manuscript unceremoniously. His eyes scanned downwards and Ginny noticed that every page was covered in bright red ink. 'Ah, here we are,' he jabbed at the page with a triumphant grin. 'I quote; "Your eyes are as deep as any ocean and I long to plunge my weary body into their peaceful embrace."'
'I don't see what's wrong with that!' Ginny muttered irritably.
'What's wrong with that is that it's bollocks.'
Slowly Ginny counted to ten in her head. Everyone was a bloody critic these days! When she'd started out she'd decided that she would mould a character that defied reality. He would be handsome - hence the name - and self-sacrificing. There would be no malice in his manners or actions. Every feat he overcame would be for a cause; obviously it made sense for that to be mostly rooted in the romantic. For months her daydreams had been filled with this fine figure of a man and she had carefully portrayed him to fit her fantasy. Ginny had believed that no woman would be able to resist. Who in their right mind would knock back perfection?
Of course there had been parallels between Handsome and Harry Potter…but they were unavoidable, weren't they? You couldn't well write about a hero and not have comparisons to the ultimate icon. It hadn't been intentional. Certainly not.
'Miss Weasley,' Blaise began patiently, 'there is little here that is worth the paper it's printed on. This is not a reflection on your ability to write but your choice of subject. If you want to have this book published then I think it's best that you rework it and give me something I can believe.'
Ginny took a deep breath. 'So you want something that's a little more dirty?'
'Perhaps dirty is the wrong choice of word,' Blaise mused softly. 'I just feel that you need to rough it up a bit. I think there are some really good scenes in this manuscript. The voodoo island populated by mad old men was particularly inspired. I also enjoyed the fight between Dr Handsome and the evil misogynistic snake charmer. The search for the key to Emerald's past was also quite moving. My only problem is stomaching that romance. Something has to be realistic for the reader to be engaged. I was not engaged.'
'So basically you want me to sex up the relationship?'
'Exactly.'
Crap, she thought as she rubbed her forehead wearily. Everything had been hanging on this meeting. She needed money to pay the bills that were hanging over her head and this had been a chance to clear them. Now it seemed unlikely that she would see a penny from her work for some considerable time. How on earth was she supposed to carry on with no income? Let's just say that there would have to be severe ice cream cut backs in order to survive.
Although money was an issue, Ginny had a more pressing problem forming in her mind. What Blaise was asking for seemed impossible. Handsome was solidly fixed in her mind as the man that he embodied in her novel. Changing him would be impossible. It would make him a totally different character and that wasn't what Ginny wanted. She'd become fond of the Doctor and his manly ways. If she wanted to sell any books then she'd have to say goodbye to her most beloved creation. Who would she replace him with? Some two-bit sleaze bag who simply wanted a shag not true love. She could already feel the hatred for the new man welling up within her.
'I also have another suggestion,' Blaise said with a large smile. 'The name Weasley isn't exactly exotic. It doesn't conjure up the beautiful sand filled paradise that you describe in the book. Maybe a pen name would be more suitable.'
'What?!' Ginny said with a growl of frustration and despair. 'Now you want me to change my name!'
Blaise nodded his head in answer and picked up a pen from the desk. 'I can see you may have difficulties with my suggestions. What I suggest is that you go home and read some of these titles which we currently have in circulation,' his pen moved silently over a sheet of paper. 'You may find some inspiration in these pages.'
He slid the piece of paper across the desk and Ginny picked it up and scanned it. 'Heavenly Descent by M. Ramsbottom, Love On A Camel by L. Lovely…' Ginny recited with a shocked expression. 'I Want To Spoon You by B. A. Sheep?'
'Read them and learn,' he said rising from his chair. 'I think that concludes our meeting. If you have any other questions I'm sure my secretary will be happy to help.'
As he walked over to the door and held it open, Ginny couldn't help feeling that he was trying to get rid of her. Maybe it was the bored expression on his face, or the way he was gesturing with his hand, but she had the distinct impression her company was no longer required. Taking the hint she rose from her chair, took hold of her manuscript and tried to muster as much dignity as she could.
'This won't be the last you see of me,' she said in a desperate attempt to have the last word before stepping out of the room.
***
As they entered the cave Emerald was filled with a daunting sense of familiarity. It was almost as if she'd felt this exact feeling of terror before. Her heart was thumping like a drum, making her breathing erratic and uneasy. The cold fingers of apprehension were caressing the hairs on the back of her neck. Was this the place that she'd been seeking all these years? Was this barren landscape home to all her hopes of family and happiness? It was overwhelming and only the press of Dr. Handsome's hand against her lower back kept her grounded to the here and now.
'Are you alright?' he asked softly, his dulcet tones echoing back from the lofty heights of the cave. 'Maybe it's too soon…'
'No,' she turned to face him. 'I must know what happened to my father. If this place can answer my questions then I must be strong. After all we've faced to be here! This should be a walk in the park compared to the demented old men of Kiona Mountain. We almost died. I almost lost you…'
Dr. Handsome gazed into her large brown eyes. They seemed so bright in the gloom of the caves. It was if there was some inner fire burning within her soul, calling to him for protection and love. There was a power to her gaze that moved his very heart, making it beat out a sonnet so loud that even the ignorant breeze would be unable to pass it without feeling his love. A love that was so huge that its suppression would destroy the both of them. He grabbed her hand and pressed it to his lips, unable to control his animal lusts.
'I must have you,' he whispered against her skin. 'If I can't love you now then I will die from exposure to your undying beauty. You are the moon, the stars, the sun itself. I am a willing slave to your wisdom and smile. You are like the air I breathe and without you…'
'Oh Ebenezer…' Emerald sighed. 'I've loved you from the very moment I saw you. The way you wrestled that alligator and saved my life…I knew from that moment that I could only ever be yours. Every part of my body belongs to you. Do with me what you will.'
She took her hand from him and began to slowly unbutton her dress, her eyes never leaving his. Her bosom heaved beneath the constraining white linen of her clothing. Slowly her fingers loosened the dress from her firm and supple body and the offending article of material dropped to the dirt. Free of the rules that their society imposed upon young couples, Dr. Handsome moved closer and took in the sight of his beloved. She was a goddess among the wilderness, consuming all the light from the cave and wearing it like a halo around her golden body.
Emerald bit her lip and covered her naked breasts with her hands, ashamed of what he might think of her virgin flesh. He placed his hands over hers and leaned in to take in the scent of her sweet perfume. 'Let's shag until our brains fall out of our nostrils,' he murmured into her ear. 'Because I'm feeling as randy as a rabbit and your boobs really turn me on.'
Ginny sat back and groaned loudly. How the hell was she supposed to write a good sex scene if she couldn't take it seriously? She grabbed the paper from the typewriter and ripped it out ruthlessly. Angrily she hurled it across the room. 'Crap, rubbish, bollocks, shit!'
It wasn't that she was trying to do as she was told. It was just that it was so hard to write something that didn't sound like something from a porn film. She didn't want Dr. Ebenezer Handsome to sound like he should have slicked back hair, a comically sized moustache, chest hair like a rug and gold medallions hanging from every available limb. He was supposed to be…sophisticated and beautiful. Sex in the cave where Emerald's father was ritualistically murdered in order to open the gates to hell wasn't exactly romantic. However there was no other place in the book that they would have the opportunity to get physical. Ginny had thought about placing the act between the quicksand scene and the flesh-eating ants…but it just didn't seem to fit.
In actual fact she was slowly driving herself mad trying to write this episode.
It had been three days since her meeting with Blaise at the publishers. Since then she'd locked herself away in her flat and desperately tried to comply with the demands laid out. All she had to do was write about the characters partaking in the act of mating. How hard could it be? Bloody impossible, that's how hard it was. She'd tried the sentimental approach, the romantic approach and the passionate approach - each one as cringe worthy as the other. Every time she felt like she was getting close to something reasonable, she would sabotage her own work with some witty and inappropriate comment.
'Why is this happening to me?' she said to no one in particular. 'I'm not cut out for this.'
Already there was a pile of bills at the foot of her door. No amount of magic was going to get her out of this one. There were bills of every variety from phone bills to the magic toll - she could probably breed pedigree bills with the amount she had. It wasn't that she didn't want to pay them. Nothing would make her happier in fact. The only problem was her lack of means in which to fulfil this desire. Although she didn't like to admit it, she was as broke as an old record that had been hit gently by a demolition ball. This meant only one thing and Ginny could hardly bring herself to contemplate it. Employment.
What her friends referred to as "real work", had never really got on with Ginny. Whenever she started a new job it would follow a certain pattern. She would start out full of hope and enthusiasm; this would be the job that would make her feel part of something worthwhile. Then slowly the part of her brain that had delusions of grandeur and dignity would start to take over. Once she'd tried being a shop assistant on Diagon Alley. Having passed the interview with flying colours she felt elated. Not only would she be financially sound but soon she would be part of a team striving to help people. However her zeal had been short lived. The company had stifled her individuality, her creativity and her will to go on. She was forced to perform services which, to her, seemed degrading. How was helping an individual choose accessories for their grey robes making the world a better place? Of course it helped the person involved, but not a great deal. And who in their right mind wants to be stalked by overzealous sales assistants trying to sell them things they didn't want?! Merlin, she thought, if they wanted help they'd bloody ask. To her the whole system was screwed and anally retentive. Was it too much to want to be happy in your work? Three days later she quit and went back to her beloved typewriter.
Of course she knew that her choice to quit was a luxury. She knew she was lucky to get such a well paid job with good benefits but it was as if a curtain had been lifted. Suddenly she saw the world as a corporate machine which didn't really care about happiness. Happiness couldn't be quantified. It couldn't be sold. Why bother? Some people live this life, she thought, unhappy and unable to change because of their situation. The whole of humankind is trapped by the constraints of a civilisation that expects and demands certain things. Only the privileged truly have any choice. It was a depressing revelation to say the least.
Wandering over to the door, she scooped up the offending pile of bills and deposited them on the couch. She slumped down next to them and ran a weary eye over some of the envelopes. Already she could feel a familiar panic washing over her. If she didn't get a job soon then she would have to say goodbye to some of the necessities in life. Like a roof and four walls for starters. A sigh escaped her lips. 'Shit,' she whispered to herself, grabbing a copy of the Daily Prophet. 'Where to start…?'
Quickly she skimmed the jobs page and knew that she was doomed. Doomed to stand by a shop door greeting people she didn't really give a damn about and offering them another credit card that would only make the world a worse place to live in. Doomed to being perky and happy all the time. Doomed, doomed, doomed. All that was on offer was a placement at a wand distributors and a vacancy at the robe shop. Maybe not mentally taxing…but then again, wasn't that the problem?
No! She would just have to write this book the way the publishing house wanted it. Quickly. Very quickly.
***
'What you need is a date.'
'Oh great,' Ginny rolled her eyes dramatically, 'a whole evening of pretending to be interested in some mans aspirations, his desire to maintain a full head of hair and his love of all things related to whatever Quidditch team happens to be at the top of the league. '
'That's not true,' Hermione said with a weary smile. 'Most of the time they bemoan the fact that their team isn't at the top of the league. Everyone loves an underdog.'
It was two in the afternoon and the two women were reclining in wicker chairs, hugging their coats to their bodies and cradling mugs of hot liquid in their frozen hands. It was the depths of a typically British winter and, having decided to go window shopping, Ginny and Hermione had found refuge in a quaint Muggle café when the rain had started to fall. The walls were a vivid pink and lined with shelves bearing oddities that Ginny wasn't familiar with. Every nook and cranny was crammed with antiquated rubbish. Wicker chairs had been added in an attempt to achieve a truly British feel. What had really appealed about this place though was the large selection of cakes in the counter. There was nothing like cake and ice cream in winter to warm the soul.
'We both know that dating is a complete nightmare for me,' sighed Ginny as she took a bite of her lemon drizzle cake. 'First there's the complete agony of choosing an outfit that won't give off the wrong signals. A short skirt is out of the question. As is anything with a low v-neck. So do I wear trousers or will that make me seem too masculine? If I wear my jeans will he think I'm not really that interested in him? Therefore I decide to wear something a bit special. Only problem is it's too fiddly and makes me feel uncomfortable. Oh and it might appear that I'm trying too bloody hard.'
Hermione shook her head and couldn't help but smile. 'You think about this far too much. It isn't healthy.'
'Then, once you've picked an outfit that doesn't make you appear easy, needy or desperate, you have to make conversation. You think that you'll talk about something intellectual. Something that'll both interest and impress said date. The only problem is that every time you open your mouth the most stupid things come out. You end up asking where he bought his shirt because your dad's been looking for one just like that. You suddenly have a keen interest in llamas and can't wait to share this with your date. And the whole while you're wondering what he's thinking. Does he find me attractive or am I just making a fool of myself? Am I the date that he'll laugh about in the pub with his mates? Slowly your heart is breaking and it doesn't matter what the outcome is. To you everything has gone completely wrong. You are a failure.'
'Okay,' Hermione conceded, 'I guess that your theory isn't complete madness. You have to remember that they're probably thinking exactly the same thing though. We all have our insecurities. It's the folly of mankind.'
Ginny gazed down into the depths of her mug and tried to work out whether she should change the subject. Nothing sounded as bitter as a single girl twittering on about the nightmare of dating. It just came out as a lazy excuse to avoid humiliation. An act of self preservation. To love and be loved was to be completely exposed. With every pleasure would ultimately mean a pain to match it. Why actively seek out pain? It was far easier to just let things happen.
'It wouldn't really be a date though, would it? It'd be more like research. It wouldn't really matter if you turned up in a bin bag and a pair of stilettos.'
Oh isn't that reassuring? Ginny smiled to herself and met Hermione's eyes. 'I don't really think I could pull off that particular look. Also it wouldn't really be research unless I slept with them in a cave on an exotic island. I don't think I could pull that off either. Plus it might be going a bit far in the name of research.'
Silence ensued as the women contemplated the problem of Ginny's book whilst eating copious amounts of cake.
'I have an idea,' Hermione suddenly said, placing her mug on the low table and leaning forward in her chair, 'but you're not going to like it.'
'I'm all ears.'
'At the Ministry we often have to interview witnesses to an incident in order to get a picture of what happened. Maybe you could do the same thing. All you'd have to do was go to a bar, talk to a couple of men and ask them what they're looking for in a woman. You could ask them about passion and lust. Anything really,' Hermione finished with triumph. 'With the right setting and alcohol flowing you could have your story in one night.'
'Hmmm.'
'What do you think?'
'I think you might just have an idea,' Ginny smiled, the cogs turning in her mind. 'And seeing as your such a genius you won't mind coming with me.'
'I really don't think…'
Ginny raised a hand to stop her. 'No arguments. We go tonight Tonto.'