Unofficial Portkey Archive

Keep It Unclean

Chapter Two

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Ginny sat up in bed and wrapped the quilt around her tiny frame. There was a chill to the room that could only be accounted for by the winter weather battling against the bricks of her home. Her breath was leaving temporary trails of mist; dragon's breath. The light of the moon poured in through the window giving her skin an ethereal glow. Slowly Ginny turned and twisted her hands in the light. She smiled to herself and regarded the long shadows crawling up her walls. It was easy to believe in magic in the dark. Gathering the covers around her, she crawled to the bottom of the bed and rested her weight against the wrought iron railings framing her mattress. Ah.

Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip.

Outside a fine mist was clouding the night sky. The gentle tapping of rain marked out each building, each tree, each shape, moving endlessly in a downward spiral. Above the hubbub of mankind, the clouds roved the sky like angry wolves devouring the moon itself. However the moon was a mischievous fellow, peering out from behind them and taunting them with his majesty. As much as they tried they would never reach his lofty heights. Clouds are fickle creatures, constantly changing their minds about what they want to be - one minute an absent lover the next a war-waging tyrant. Not the moon though. He was predictable, loyal, constant. Whilst they waged their war for domination of the sky the rain beat out the drum, the wind guiding every fall.

Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip.

Only masochists face truly British weather and, true to form, Ginny caught sight of a single figure battling against the forceful wind. The figure, a young girl, managed to make it past the street light and darted into a doorway. Her hands patted at her hair, trying to rearrange it back to how it was before she left the house. A smile tipped Ginny's lips. Honestly! A miniskirt in this weather? What was the world coming to? This girl was obviously aiming to impress but sometimes the world seems against you.

It had been three hours since Ginny had left a disgruntled Hermione at the café. The weather had been taking a turn for the worst and she wanted to avoid getting caught out in it. Hermione had protested to her leaving, reminding her that she was a witch and therefore should not allow such matters to dictate her life. Ginny had flapped her hands at Hermione. She had seen the way some witches became dependant upon magic and she didn't want to be so reliant. Walking would do her good anyway, she had protested and with that left. It had been nice to wander along the streets letting the wind blow away the cobwebs. She had always been happiest when left to her own devices.

Once she reached home though she was feeling exhausted. The past couple of nights had been pretty much sleepless. Her mind was filled with too many thoughts - too many new scenarios for her book. If she intended to go out tonight then she was going to have to doze, Cat nap. Forty winks. It all amounted to the same thing; pyjamas, bed, warmth, bliss.

'Meow?' croaked Ginny as she rubbed the sleep away from her eyes. 'Where are you?'

Suddenly a huge shaggy black Labrador bounded into the room and leapt onto the bed in a state of over enthusiasm. Ginny put her hand out and stroked Meow muttering a couple of niceties that must be said between an owner and their dog. She hugged him to her chest and buried her head in his ruff. 'Merlin,' she mumbled, 'remind me to give you a bath,'

Pushing the dog aside, Ginny swung her legs out of bed and forced herself upright. Slowly she stretched her limbs, preparing them for future exertions. Tonight she would be giving it her all. There would be no Mrs. Nice Ginny! She was going to be ruthless in her interrogations and find out what it was men were looking for. That way she'd be able to save her novel by making Dr. Handsome more realistic and…well it didn't really help her with the sex scene, but one obstacle at a time. Tonight she would be assertive and unforgiving in her search for the truth. Whatever that might be.

'Clothes. Clothes would be good,' she said flicking the light switch. 'Hmm. Bin bag…'

As she tried on different outfits Meow watched on with a look of deep quizzical interest. It was at this time, every day, that he considered the most important question in life. Food. He wondered when she was going to feed him. He was certainly hungry. It had been days since he'd had a good meal. At least ten days. Maybe she'd forgotten him. Food, he whined, food! Ginny looked round and frowned. She'd fed Meow before she'd gone to sleep and walked him…what was it he wanted? She patted him on the head and went back to what she was doing. Meow rolled onto his side, hunger making him powerless. He resigned himself to the wait. Eventually she would see his pain.

'What do you think Meow?' Ginny asked, striking a pose for her canine friend. 'I think it says classy, sophisticated…dominating.'

She looked down at the dog for any sign of recognition. None. Oh well, she thought, I guess this will do. Walking over to the full length mirror she looked at her reflection critically. She was wearing black trousers and a grey top with some purple robes thrown over the top. There was no use seeming too Muggle-ish. It would only give men the wrong impression.

'Right,' she said with a final smile, 'look out world, here I come!'

***

'I can't! I just can't!'

'Ginny…' Hermione said with a sharp look. 'If you don't go over to that man now then I will hex you!'

'It's just…I can't bring myself to do it.'

Hermione let out a huff of frustration. 'You wanted to come here, remember? The whole point is that you're supposed to be researching the social psychology of the male of the species. It involves - shock, horror - actually talking to them. It involves getting a grip, walking to the other side of the bar and asking the questions you want to ask.'

'I know,' whined Ginny. 'It's just I don't want them to get the wrong idea. I don't want to walk over there and for them to think I'm making a move and then reject me!'

'Does it matter what they think?'

'Yes.'

'Merlin. You're impossible. Whatever happened to being authoritative and pushy?'

Ginny pursed her lips and gave a pained expression. 'It's not in my nature…?'

Having finally settled on wearing a black dress with beads and ribbons, Ginny was feeling very self-conscious. She knew she should have stuck with the dominating librarian look…but it had been so hard to leave the house knowing she looked like someone's grandmother. Her head had instructed her to look upon the whole excursion as a means to an end. It didn't matter what other people thought of her. On the other hand, her heart had pleaded with her not to go into a trendy nightclub looking like an old lady. What if she met someone she knew? They would feel sorry for her. Obviously she was regretting the dress now. It was a dress that screamed to be looked at and wasn't failing to achieve the latter. She could feel hungry eyes watching her as she moved across the room.

This was not the only change to take place during the journey to the club. The closer she got to her destination the more nervous she became. Slowly her resolve decayed until she was unable to approach the door, let alone a real man. She had gone from assured and confident to a babbling mess. It was mortifying to find herself so changed by the time she met with Hermione at the bar. The environment itself seemed to demand she fiddle with her hair, smooth out her clothing nervously and dart her eyes about the place wildly.

The club was filled with people of all shapes and sizes, swaying to the inescapable beat of the bass. They moved as one body rejoicing in the pleasures of physical contact and alcohol. To Ginny's mind it was like Blackpool beach on a bank holiday - overcrowded, overexposed and slightly sticky. When she had first entered the place she had been amazed that her shoes were sticking to the floor, making a squelch every time she moved and making her leave her shoes behind. It was quite disconcerting. This wasn't helped by the fact that there was a group of lurid men gathered by the door assessing each woman like a potential bride. She was positive she heard someone say that she didn't have child-bearing hips…

'It's the environment,' she tried to explain, 'it makes me anxious.'

Hermione nodded in quiet assent. 'I realise that now.'

Ginny looked around from where she was perched on a bar stool. It was amazing how much bodily fluid was being passed between complete strangers. Especially seeing as the vast majority of them were British and this was certainly not a thing to be done in public. Ginny always marvelled at the way foreigners seemed so open to everyone they met - you learnt their entire life story by just saying hello. Personally she didn't like over familiarisation with complete strangers and it was this feeling that was quintessentially British. As a nation the British do not like people speaking to them out of turn. It is a nation that will speak very loudly if not understood and regard everyone with equal disdain. It is a nation who avoids contact with the man sitting next to them on the tube and pretend that they didn't notice the youth heckling them. Ginny loved it. There was nothing like a stereotype to make life more entertaining. Good old British repression, she thought, meant that she didn't have to act like a fool gushing over every sentimental detail. Although they wouldn't think the British were so reserved if they could see the saliva exchange taking part in this room.

There was always the couple arguing about something completely banal, the girl in corner gazing at the object of her affection without being noticed and the groups of single sex, each paying equal disrespect to the other. In essence a club was not made up of lighting or music, but of the characters who evolve within the walls. Ginny smiled to herself at the thought. Very profound.

'What about him?' Hermione asked signalling with her eyebrows to the man behind her. 'He doesn't look too bad from the back.'

'It doesn't matter what he looks like really. At least not for the questions I'm going to ask them,' shouted Ginny above the sudden increase of noise pollution. 'All men are fundamentally the same in the end. They will say that they're different to other men but how could they possibly know that? It's impossible to know all the other men. Ergo we can conclude that there are major similarities in their tendency. How many men do you know that want no breasts on a woman? Exactly. They don't. Now that would be a different man.'

Hermione rolled her eyes. 'I take it that is also true of your brothers and Harry?'

It had been some time since Ginny had last seen Harry Potter. A year, she thought regretfully, ever since the novel began. Intimacy with Harry had occurred when they were young, free and foolish. He had promised her the world and himself - neither of which were his to offer. She believed that everyone had their own path to follow, that each new connection you made in life was leading up to something. That was why Harry had left. It wasn't because he was incapable of loving her. It wasn't because she reminded him of the boy he wished to leave behind. No. It was fate. It was the eternal effect of life on her being. The people loved him so he no longer needed her affections. He was not made for her alone - he was created to bring an end to the darkness within. Ginny would never possess that which she was promised so young in life.

It didn't hurt anymore. No longer did she die inside when his name was mentioned. Her heart wouldn't flutter with hope every time she caught sight of him in the newspaper. She wasn't broken any longer. No. Ginny Weasley was not damaged goods. She should have told him that, although he was not made to be part of her, she had always been his.

Hermione's eyes searched Ginny's face for signs of emotion with a look of concern. 'I'm so sorry Gin. I completely forgot that we weren't supposed to mention him. He misses you…'

Ginny took a deep breath and held it in her lungs then slowly released it. No tears, she reminded herself. Gently she slid from her stool and touched a hand to her face. 'Look,' she said with as much cheer as she could muster, 'I'm just going to pop to the loo. I'll be back in a minute and then you can berate me about my inability to talk to strange men.'

Quickly she darted away from the scene of the crime, tears welling up at the corners of her eye. She hated it when people tried to avoid talking about Harry in an obvious way. As she watched them she could see they were dying to ask about the relationship and ask what had happened. The restraint they showed was irritating to her. It didn't matter what they were saying because she knew what they weren't. Harry Potter was something all people showed an interest in.

Suddenly something hit her shoulder hard causing her to stumble forward and fall onto her knees. She winced as she hit the floor and placed her hands flat in order to save her face. 'Shit,' she whispered to herself, 'bollocks.' Painfully she rose from the floor and looked for the damage. Her hands and knees were sticky from the floor and there was a ridge imprinted on her shin. Blood had rushed to the surface making her flushed and sore. There was definitely going to be bruising in the morning. Of course the anger soon followed the pain, as in many situations in life. Turning round though she found herself facing the person she least wanted to meet in a dark alley.

'Malfoy,' she said tightly. 'I should have known from the whiff of refuse I got from the other side of the bar.'

Draco Malfoy was smirking - she didn't have to see his face to know this - in the self-satisfied way he usually did. 'Weasley.'

Merlin she hated it when she was forced into his company by circumstance. He would somehow cause her public embarrassment, she would throw an insult and he would remain infuriatingly monosyllabic. It wasn't that this happened often, it was just that their meetings often stuck in her mind. A couple of months ago they had exchanged family insults whilst passing in in Diagon Alley. It didn't matter that they were no longer at school; the magic community was fairly small and, excluding moving to another country, it was difficult to avoid the more unpleasant school companions.

Ginny brushed her hands off dramatically and tucked her bag under her arm. Giving him a dirty look, she turned and marched into the toilets. 'Bastard,' she muttered.

***

'You'll never guess who I just saw,' Hermione said when Ginny had settled herself back onto the stool. 'Malfoy. He came over here, as bold as brass, and asked me if you'd enjoyed your trip. Of course I was completely puzzled and when I asked what he was talking about he just walked off.'

'Some people never change,' Ginny said sagely. 'That's one rule that definitely applies to everyone.'

'You would have thought he would have grown out of it at some point,' squeaked Hermione with indignation. 'He is the only person I know that maintains this childhood feud.'

'It's not his fault he has the maturity of a five year old and the moral beliefs of a viper,' she responded wryly. 'Anyway he isn't important. What's important is that we find a man to tell me all about their needs, desires, wants…passions. It shouldn't be too hard.'

Hermione nodded and gave Ginny a cautious look. 'You know what I said before you went to the toilet…'

Ginny looked past Hermione and concentrated on a throng of people downing shots. Her mind blocked out the speech which Hermione seemed to have put some considerable thought into. What people didn't understand is that the broken hearted like to suffer. There's no point being miserable if you're not going to do it properly and Ginny had thrown herself into this theory with a passion. The day Harry left her she ensured that no one could find her. She didn't want their pity or sympathy. All she desired was a box of tissues and a mind full of happy memories replaying themselves in a constant loop. She felt her loss keenly, burying herself in life she could have had with him. Her heart was broken and there were so many pieces that she had to tie them all together with string.

That had been the day that Dr. Handsome had emerged from her subconscious.

'Merlin, what does he want?!' Hermione mouthed covering her face with her hand and pretending not to notice the new addition to their party. Ginny frowned slightly and wondered why the surface of the bar had become so interesting. She glanced round and was faced by a wall of darkness. Slowly her eyes worked their way upwards until they rested on the cold face of Draco Malfoy.

'Malfoy?' Ginny asked as casually as she could. 'Come back to feed your insecurities about your abilities as a man?'

'Needs. Desires. Wants,' Draco said slowly and with emphasis. 'Passion.'

Ginny looked to Hermione for support but found none forthcoming. Hermione seemed to have engrossed herself in the drinks menu and had no intention of involving herself with one of Malfoy's arguments. She sighed and cast her eyes around for something to throw over him. Again nothing was forthcoming. The thought of hexing him passed quickly. These establishments had precautions for such an event. No, she thought, I'm actually going to have to talk to him. She fixed a fake smile on her face and looked back at him. 'You've been eavesdropping on a private conversation. Then again, what else should I expect from a Malfoy?'

'Weasley,' he said leaning closer to her, 'it was difficult not to hear that whiney little voice of yours.'

It was difficult to maintain a cool exterior when being insulted by your least favourite person. 'What is it you want Malfoy?'

'As you so intelligently observed, I have indeed overheard your conversation and it occurs to me that you know nothing about what you're seeking. As it happens I am feeling quite charitable this evening and am willing to correct your mistakes on my own time,' Draco said in a precise manner that grated on Ginny's patience. 'After all we fortunate must help the needy occasionally.'

Ginny couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of his proclamation. 'You?! You want to tell me about passion? Merlin, that's funny!'

Draco smiled slightly and leant against the bar in between Hermione and Ginny. There was something about his proximity that was beginning to unnerve her and her so-called friend seemed to have nothing to say on the whole matter. 'I think you're confusing passion with romance,' he said signalling to the waiter for another drink.

'Meaning?' Ginny blurted out without thinking. Inwardly she cursed, realising that this was exactly what Malfoy wanted her to ask. This way she was trapped into making conversation with him until she was able to escape, which didn't seem to be happening anytime soon.

'They are two completely different things. Women however are unable to see the difference because they are incapable of emotional detachment,' he took his glass from the waiter and took a sip, keeping his eyes on Ginny. 'When a man wants to romance a woman the whole event is thought out. He plans everything down to the texture of the sheets and the availability of protection. This all takes considerable amounts of time, but seems to impress females no end. They see the romance but there is no real passion because everything is prearranged. Passion is spontaneous and exciting. It's purely physical. However a woman confuses passion with romance because they think that it all means something. What they don't understand is that passion is instant gratification not marriage.'

'That's a load of crap…' Ginny was silenced by his hand over her mouth.

'Be a good Weasley and let teacher teach,' he said slowly, leaving his hand where it was. 'I hope you're taking notes because this is a one time thing. You are lucky to have caught me in such a philosophical mood. I would hypothesise with my date but she has no brain. In fact that's the very reason I chose her. Instant gratification.'

Ginny was revolted by the thought of Draco's misuse of women and prised his hand from her mouth. 'And I think you're confusing passion with sex.'

He laughed loudly, making her feel more angry than she had before. 'I believe that mistake is entirely yours. I see the world for what it is.'

'Oh, this would be because you're a man? And men think rationally in terms of emotion?' Ginny asked standing up quickly and prodding him in the chest with a finger. 'You have always talked crap Malfoy and I can't see that anything has changed. Now if you don't mind…' She shoved Malfoy out of the way and grabbed Hermione's arm, dragging her to her feet. 'We have better things to do then listen to the nonsensical ramblings of a testosterone filled man!'

Awkwardly Ginny managed to remove herself and Hermione from Draco's presence. They moved slowly through the throng of people until they reached the doorway. Two gargantuan men loomed nearby, wands at the ready and severe faced. Dressed in black they gave new meaning to the words "dressed to kill". Ginny gave them a lopsided smile and pulled Hermione aside. 'For a second there I thought he might actually follow us!' she said breathily. 'He's such a…man.'

Hermione gave her friend an amused look as she looked through her bag for some mints. 'Hmmm.'

'What?'

'You're not going to like what I have to say,' she replied as she popped a mint into her mouth. 'This could possibly be worse than my suggestion to come out tonight. Although I do defend that idea seeing as you're the one who killed its good intentions.'

Ginny laughed and leant against the wall to catch her breath from the escape. 'I am sorry about that.'

'I'm sure you are,' responded Hermione with an impish grin. 'To be honest I thought that this would be the way it would pan out.'

'Merlin, I fancy a strong drink after that! Malfoy has drained me of energy,' Ginny giggled to herself, high on the thrill of running away. 'The look on his face! Do you think it was a bit childish of me?'

'Ha!' Hermione snorted, offering Ginny a mint from her bag. 'This is Malfoy we're talking about. He's the most immature person we know.'

With a nod Ginny took the mint and sucked on it thoughtfully. 'So what's this idea of yours then?'

'You won't like it.'

'Oh come on! You can't say that you've had an idea and then taunt me by not saying what it is! That's just cruel.' They moved out of the doorway and into the night air, each one pulling their wands out from their purses. With a quick charm they were quickly zipped into coats that appeared from nowhere. A smile was shared between them. 'Just tell me. It can't be that bad.'

'Alright,' she said. 'I think you should talk to Malfoy about the book.'

Ginny laughed suddenly and found herself incapable of stopping. She put a hand to her stomach and tried to curb the hysteria building within her. Her first coherent thought was that Hermione must have had more to drink than she had thought. Talk to Malfoy about her beloved book! It was an absurd idea. He was the last person to know anything about love - he was a ladies man and the papers often reported him as having a different woman on his arm each night.

'Think about it,' Hermione said with all seriousness. 'Malfoy has an extravagant lifestyle. He's well moneyed, powerful and opinionated. We both know that he's a complete bastard but he does have a certain amount of success in business. Maybe his arrogance is the thing you need for your book. From what he said in there he obviously has a lot of thoughts on us women.'

'But he was talking crap!'

'Exactly.'

Ginny pulled herself together and looked her friend square in the eye. Hermione had a mischievous look on her face, which lifted Ginny's spirits no end. Slowly it began to dawn on her what Hermione was trying to say. Malfoy was, in essence, the voice of male logic. He believed himself to have a superior knowledge of the female psyche and that was why he'd been so talkative at the bar - he was flaunting his intelligence. A smile began to curl Ginny's lips.

'It's fair to say that Malfoy has a reputation for seduction. Women are drawn to his money and position in society. Therefore we can believe that he knows a lot about sex,' Hermione said slowly and methodically. 'He's arrogant enough to believe he's a god among men, so persuading him to tell you all his beliefs wouldn't be too hard. All you'd have to do was feed his ego; pretend that you need him.'

'So what you're saying is that Malfoy is fundamentally a womanising bastard?'

'Yes.'

'And that this helps me because he's exactly the character I need for my book?'

'Yes.'

'Therefore if I flatter his ego he will be willing to share his knowledge with me?'

'I think you're getting the idea.'

Ginny crossed her arms over her chest and looked up at the night sky. Blaise had said that he wanted something less clean. He wanted characters who weren't necessarily likable, but who would be exciting for the reader. Maybe what her story needed was a villain like Malfoy - a man whose only concern was whether he could bed the beautiful Emerald. Yes, there was definitely something about Malfoy that was sleazy in that way. He was the kind of man who would treat Emerald like dirt.

'Hermione,' Ginny said with a broad grin, 'you're a genius.'

'Thank you.'

She frowned and tapped her fingers against her arm. 'The only problem is, how am I going to get him to talk to me now?'