Keep It Unclean

Smashed Sunshine

Rating: R
Genres: Romance, Humor
Relationships: Draco & Ginny
Book: Draco & Ginny, Books 1 - 6
Published: 19/10/2005
Last Updated: 26/03/2007
Status: paused

Write romantic novel. Pay bills. Try not to become fixated by perfect fictional characters. Pay more bills. Encourage arrogant man to help boost failing plot lines. Pay some more bills. Attempt to get published. Goodbye debt. It sounds simple enough but can Ginny find what she's looking for? Could it be that what she really wants is imperfection? And why, oh why, won't anyone pay her to sit around fantasising about tall/dark/handsome men?

Chapters

1. Chapter One

2. Chapter Two

3. Chapter Three

4. Chapter Four

5. Chapter Five

6. Chapter Six

7. Chapter Seven

8. Chapter Eight

1. Chapter One

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.’

2. Chapter Two

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?’

3. Chapter Three

Keep It Unclean

Chapter Three

‘Do you have an appointment?’

Ginny heaved a sigh and gave the secretary a withering look. ‘If I had an appointment do you think I would be asking to see Mr Malfoy? Surely if I had an appointment then I would have mentioned it when I first came in.’

‘I’m afraid you can’t see Mr Malfoy without an appointment,’ the secretary beamed confidently. ‘What we can do is arrange one for a future date…’

‘I don’t think you’re grasping this,’ Ginny interrupted irritably, ‘but if I’d wanted to see Mr Malfoy tomorrow then I wouldn’t be here now.’

The secretary decided not to hear Ginny’s remark and opened a large book entitled Appointments. ‘Mr Malfoy has an opening two weeks from now. Would you like me to pencil you in?’

‘Two weeks?! Merlin!’

‘Indeed. Mr Malfoy is a very busy man,’ she continued with rehearsed patience. ‘Name?’

Okay, Ginny thought, so this wasn’t panning out as she’d envisioned. She hadn’t planned for an anally retentive secretary who resembled a frog or Malfoy actually being popular. In her mind this whole process had been a whole lot simpler. It had been decided that Ginny should approach Malfoy whilst he was at work - public therefore safe - and outline her proposition. Simple. However there were some crucial things Ginny had forgotten about Malfoy’s place of work. Firstly there was the fact that he was a partner in a company that was involved in the development of industrial and security charms. The business was called Safetex and they were the sole producers of the new magical home security system that discharged potions at intruders, paralysing them before they could even get their foot inside the door. This meant that Malfoy was in huge demand; something that made Ginny wonder what the world was coming to.

It hadn’t been difficult to locate the Safetex building as it was one of the largest on Diagon Alley. Ginny had risen early in order to get a head start on the day but upon arriving had seen that she had not been early enough. The whole place was buzzing with a vibrant activity. People were running from one corner of the building to the other, opening doors, delivering messages and so forth. It was an overwhelming sight to behold. Unlike locating the building, it had been more complicated to find where Malfoy’s office was. At first she was directed to the front desk and then to the fourth floor. From there she was told she was supposed to be on the seventh floor and that his office was to the left side of the building. Suffice to say it was most certainly on the right. It took her a grand total of twenty minutes to find out where she was supposed to be.

When she eventually found her destination, she’d been down hearted to be confronted with a stark entrance room with one other door and a smile-happy secretary. She had mentally prepared herself for the worst.

‘Look,’ Ginny said with a tight smile, ‘I’d really like to see Mr Malfoy today. I realise you must hear this all the time but isn’t there some time you could squeeze me in?’

‘No, sorry.’

Ginny squeezed her eyes shut and considered her options. It had been such a silly idea to begin with but she’d convinced herself that Malfoy was the best candidate she would be able to find. Of course there was the fact that they disliked each other to overcome, but who didn’t have their problems? At least they knew one another. Vaguely. It wouldn’t be as awkward as talking to a complete stranger and Malfoy definitely had plenty to say. Basically she’d convinced herself that it was her only option - desperate times call for desperate measures. Now though she was beginning to think that her book was fated to go unread. Two weeks without progress meant that she’d be delaying the inevitable. She’d be forced to become gainfully employed.

Opening her eyes she realised that the secretary was looking at her quizzically. Obviously she’d been expecting something different too.

‘Is it urgent that you see Mr Malfoy today?’

‘Well…’Ginny frowned slightly as a thought occurred to her, ‘it is actually.’

The secretary gave her an encouraging look. ‘Maybe if you told me the nature of the emergency then I’d be able to see whether I could shuffle some appointments around today…?’

‘Oh right,’ she said anxiously. ‘Erm…I’m…’

‘Yes?’

Ginny chewed on her lip, her mind racing for a suitable scenario. ‘I…I think I might be carrying his child.’

It was fair to say that this statement had the desired affect. The secretary’s mouth fell open in shock and she started to frantically flip through the appointment book, muttering sympathetic congratulations. Ginny didn’t like to think of herself as deceptive but this was definitely crossing the white lie mark. How on earth was she going to pull this one off? The thought of an immaculate conception made her snort with contained laughter. Merlin, it would be funny to see the look on Malfoy’s face when he heard that she was expecting his child!

‘Weasley?’

Bugger.

Ginny turned with a forced smile. ‘Malfoy.’

Draco was standing at the entrance to his office, leaning nonchalantly against the doorframe and regarding her with curiosity. She could be mistaken but it looked as though he was amused. There was a crease at the corner of his mouth suggesting a smile and his eyes seemed light and merry. He was wearing a large woolly grey jumper pushed up to the elbows and a pair of black trousers. It struck Ginny that he looked out of place, almost as if he were too big for the room itself. The jumper certainly didn’t lend itself to a business-like image. It whispered to be touched, stroked, cuddled. She shook herself of the thought quickly and concentrated on not blushing.

‘Mr Malfoy?’ the receptionist asked hesitantly, unsure whether she should interrupt the big announcement.

‘It’s alright Phyllis,’ Draco said turning his attention to his secretary. ‘Miss Weasley was just leaving.’

‘Hang on a second,’ Ginny said taking a step towards him. ‘I was wondering whether I could speak to you briefly about a business proposition I have.’

‘Then you make an appointment,’ Draco said coldly, ‘just like everybody else.’

‘I realise that you have very little time…’

‘Especially for delusional witches who tell everyone I’ve impregnated them in order to get what they want,’ he said matter-of-factly. ‘Original, I’ll give you that, but not the right way to go about things.’

‘Oh…’ she muttered guiltily, ‘I was hoping you hadn’t heard that.’

Draco gave her a weary look. ‘As much as I enjoy watching you make a fool out of yourself, I’m a very busy man and your little show has disrupted my work. Now please remove yourself from the premises before I have to get someone to do it for you.’

‘But you haven’t even heard what I’ve got to say!’ Ginny stamped her foot in frustration. ‘Aren’t you in the least bit curious as to what I’m doing here?’

‘Weasley, I don’t know why you’re here and, more to the point, I don’t actually care.’

Ginny shifted her bag on her shoulder and squared her shoulders defiantly. ‘Then I guess I’ll just have to stay here until you change your mind.’

Draco shrugged slightly and retreated back into his office, slamming the door behind him. Ginny looked at Phyllis, who was silently enjoying the whole scene, and seated herself on one of the chairs made available for people waiting. There was no she was leaving without getting her way. It didn’t matter if she had to wait here all night. Malfoy was not going to get the better of her.

‘How thin are these walls?’ she enquired sweetly. ‘They look fairly flimsy.’

Phyllis pretended not to hear Ginny (again) and pulled out a paperback and a sandwich from her drawer. From what Ginny could see the sandwich was some kind of cheese and when her eyes scanned the book she was shocked to see a copy of I Want To Spoon You by B. A. Sheep.

‘Is that any good?’ she asked hesitantly, afraid that the answer might be a resounding affirmative.

‘Oh yes,’ Phyllis said enthusiastically, ‘I adore it! One of his best.’

‘His?’

‘Yes. Barry America Sheep. I must have read all of his books and this one is beyond doubt his greatest work so far.’

‘America…’ Ginny repeated with a frown. ‘That’s certainly a name to remember.’

‘Of course he hardly ever gets the critical acclaim he deserves,’ she said in a manner that implied it was futile to argue, ‘but isn’t that the case with most good writers?’

Oh Merlin, Ginny thought, I’ve set her off! If there was one thing in life that Ginny hated most then it was the ramblings of a fanatic. These were the people who were ever so slightly unhinged. They were irrational and wouldn’t listen to anything that contradicted their beloved obsession. Phyllis obviously had a passion for romantic literature. America! Ginny wished she could laugh but didn’t want to add insult to the injury she’d already caused by lying.

‘It’s all about this man who gives up everything in the name of love. At the beginning Jock - that’s his name you see - well he’s living a nomadic life on the side of a mountain. He was orphaned as a child and was never able to really connect with anyone emotionally. Anyway one day he has to go down from the mountain to get medicine for his dog, Hector. This dog is the only friend he’s had his entire life and it’s all a bit tense. However when he reaches the town he finds himself a social leper. No one is willing to help him. Eventually he meets Evelyn, a gorgeous Irish vet who wins his heart. In order to save the dog they have to travel north through horrendous weather…’

‘Where do the spoons come into it?’ asked Ginny with genuine curiosity.

‘Oh well,’ Phyllis confided, ‘it’s more a metaphor for the constraints of our so-called civilisation.’

‘How so?’

Phyllis seemed troubled by the question. Her face began to crease in alarming ways, making her appear more toad-like than before. ‘Well it’s obvious isn’t it?’

‘No…not really. I can’t see that a spoon can represent civilisation in anyway.’

Suddenly the side door burst open revealing a tense looking Draco. His eyes flicked from one irritating female to the other. It looked as if he was struggling to maintain his composure. ‘Weasley,’ he said motioning for her to come in. Ginny jumped off her chair and quickly scooted into his office before he changed his mind.

‘Infernal books,’ Draco muttered as he walked round his desk and took his seat. ‘I swear that book is killing her brain cells.’

Looking around Ginny regarded the basic layout of the room. There was very little furniture; a desk, two chairs and a bookshelf. The walls were a steel coloured grey which matched the plain tiled flooring. There was nothing comfortable or inviting about the room just a sense of inadequacy given off by its resident.

‘Not all books are bad,’ Ginny said finally. ‘They can’t help it that people take them too seriously.’

It took her a couple of minutes to realise that Draco was watching her intently, his usual smirk nowhere to be seen. He motioned to the chair in front of him and she seated herself promptly. ‘What is it you want Weasley?’ he asked curtly. ‘Make it snappy.’

‘I know that me being here must be something of a shock for you…’

‘It takes a lot to shock me Weasley. You’re presence here merely says that you’re desperate enough to put aside your pride, honour and such other noble things,’ he leant back in his chair and crossed his arms. ‘I must confess to being curious as to your proposition.’

‘Right,’ Ginny slid her bag off her shoulder and let it drop to the floor. ‘Maybe I should begin by telling you why I’m here.’

‘That’s often the best place to start.’

Ginny took a deep breath and reminded herself that this wasn’t the worst thing in the world. In comparison to death, for example, this was a walk in the park. ‘For the past year I’ve been writing a book that comments on the relationship between men and women. My belief was that people would want to read about perfect emotions. Emotions that are straightforward and that don’t deviate from the original feeling. So I constructed the ideal man and woman. However my publisher believed my characters to be too idealised. He wanted something a little less…clean, shall we say. That left me in a quandary. It’s difficult to see things from another persons perspective when you’re so focussed on one thing. I decided that the best way to write more realistic characters would be to ask other people to help. In fact that’s what I was in the process of doing last night when we…bumped into each other. You said some things that interested me and I was wondering whether you’d be able to expand on your theories.’

‘You want me to help you make your book better?’

‘Not better,’ Ginny said tensely, ‘just more universally acceptable.’

‘Let me get this straight,’ he mused gently. ‘You’re asking me for help because of what I said last night? It must certainly be pressing for you to ask me.’

Ginny looked down at the floor and tried not to look too ashamed. ‘I need the money.’

The room went silent. Draco regarded her for several seconds before picking up his quill and resuming his work. ‘If I did help you what would I get out of this arrangement?’ Draco asked with an amused sneer. ‘I already have everything I need.’

‘Obviously I’m not expecting something for nothing,’ Ginny said with as much restraint as she could muster. ‘What I’m offering is a trade of services. If you are willing to spare the time to acquaint me with your theories on relationships, then I will certainly give you the same amount of my time in chores of some kind.’

With a snort of amusement, Draco leant his elbows on the desk and regarded her coldly. ‘And what services are you offering to me?’

Ginny blushed at what was being implied by his question and averted her eyes to the floor. ‘I’m offering any service within reason.’

‘What are the boundaries of this “reason”?’

‘Anything involving public humiliation, sexual favours and excretion.’

‘Damn, that spoils all my fun,’ he said coldly.

Silence reigned in the small office. It was the kind of silence that breeds awkward looks and coughing - anything to break the tension. Ginny didn’t want to appear rude (that would spoil her chances) but she was finding it very hard to sit still. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, desperately trying not to look directly at Draco in case he should catch her observing him. He seemed deep in thought, gazing into the middle distance and tapping his fingers wearily against the surface of his desk. If someone didn’t speak soon then she was going to wear a hole in her seat.

‘Erm,’ she squeaked unsurely, ‘What do you think then?’

His eyes flicked to her sharply, cold and unfeeling. ‘Anyone would think you were anxious, Weasley. I will tell you what I think when and if I’m ready.’

‘Oh. Okay.’

With downcast eyes she noticed that there was a small stain on the hem of her skirt. Her nose wrinkled at the sight of it. Wasn’t it always the case that best clothing was ultimately made to be covered in stains, wrinkles and dog hair? The harder she tried to avoid damaging her clothing the more dilapidated it became. She reached down into her bag and withdrew her wand. Then she smoothed out the area with a finger and pulled the material taut. With a touch of her wand the stain disappeared into the texture of the skirt. Perfect, she thought with a triumphant smile. As she placed her wand back in her bag she noticed that Draco was still in a world of his own, gazing out the window. She yawned loudly, placing a hand over her mouth. and checked her watch for the time. Almost lunch time.

‘It occurs to me that there might be something to gain from this. I will consent to re-educate your puny mind if you will do odd jobs amounting to double the time I give you,’ he said picking up a pen from his desk and proceeding to continue with his signings. ‘That’s my only offer.’

‘What?!’ she screeched disbelievingly. ‘Double time? I don’t really think that’s fair!’

‘Life isn’t fair Weasley. We learn to live with it because there’s no other choice.’

Ginny ground her teeth and glared at the top of Draco’s head. ‘You’re insufferable.’

He looked up from his papers and smiled slightly. ‘Do you want my help or not?’

‘Fine,’ she said tightly. ‘When do I start?’

‘Tomorrow. Nine o’clock.’

4. Chapter Four

Keep It Unclean

Chapter Four

‘Darling,’ Handsome whispered passionately, ‘I don’t think there’s anyone quite as perfect as you.’

‘Oh Ebenezer!’ she sighed in heavenly delight. ‘For you I would soar into the sky on waxen wings…’

Their bodies slowly gravitated towards each other; the magnetism of their love overcoming their sensibilities. It no longer mattered that an act of love such as this was improper. Deep in the jungle of the island they were hidden from the prying eyes of society, completely at the mercy of nature. Emerald could feel that the air was thick with primal lust and need. Her heart was beating so fast at the anticipation of a kiss that her knees felt weak. What was this dizzying emotion? Love?

‘I will write you a sonnet,’ he breathily murmured. ‘That will describe every detail of you character, from your warmth to your undying charity. The way you helped those cannibalistic old men in the forest…it took my breath away.’ Handsome grabbed her hand and drew it close to his heart. ‘It doesn’t matter to me what you look like. It’s your soul that has stolen me. I am completely at your mercy…my love.’

Emerald sighed deeply - the sigh of a woman lost in her own emotions, unable to see anything but what she desires. His words touched her as no other words had. At that moment she knew that theirs was a love that would overcome all obstacles. As she leant forward to smother his sensuous lips with her own, he pulled back. ‘No,’ his face wore an anxious expression. ‘I will not kiss those lips until I have finished my sonnet. Then when we kiss you will know the full extent of my love for you.’

‘What!?’ Emerald squeaked pulling away from him. ‘You want me to wait until you’ve written a bloody poem?!’

‘Sweetheart…’

Emerald gathered her skirts about her and gave Handsome a tempestuous look. ‘And I thought you were a real man.’

‘I thought you’d finished that?’

Ginny looked up from her typewriter to find Hermione standing at the door removing her coat. She frowned slightly at her friends sudden appearance and searched her memory. There was something she was missing here…

‘I’m still working on uniting the characters emotionally, physically, mentally. Changing Handsome isn’t working, so I tried to make Emerald the modern woman… Anyway, what are you doing here?’

‘You’ve forgotten, haven’t you?’ Hermione asked with an amused smile.

‘No…’ Ginny responded edgily. ‘I just momentarily misplaced the information.’

Hermione laughed gently and hugged her coat to her stomach. ‘We’re supposed to be having supper with your family tonight, remember? You said you didn’t want to turn up on your own, so I said that I’d disapparate here before going to The Burrow. Is any of this familiar to you?’

‘Oh bugger,’ she muttered banging her forehead with the ball of her hand. ‘I had completely forgotten. Merlin!’

‘Good job I’m here then, isn’t it?’ Hermione shook her head wearily. ‘What I suggest you do is quickly change, get your coat and we’ll apparate to The Burrow before they start the main course. I’m sure your mum won’t mind us missing the starter. Much.’

‘Mum’s going to kill me! I promised I wouldn’t be late this time. Oh shitty crap!’ Ginny pushed back from her desk and rose to her feet unsteadily. Her legs had gone numb from staying in one position for so long. Painfully she shook her legs and wiggled her toes in the hope that some feeling would return. ‘I hate going to these things.’

‘I know.’

‘They cause more harm than good. I always leave there with a sense of inadequacy and self pity.’

‘You could always make up some excuse,’ Hermione suggested bluntly. ‘Just say you’ve got a job. I’m sure they couldn’t begrudge you work of some kind.’

‘Oh, you don’t know my mother very well then,’ she said tightly. ‘Anyway I would feel even worse if I didn’t go. I can’t take mum’s emotional blackmail tactics. She makes me feel guilty for having a life of my own! She’ll mention how lonely she is in the house and how she always thought she could rely on her only little girl. Oh, and there’s the tearful recollections of giving birth to me and how, even though she’d been in agonising pain, she’d been so happy to have a girl.’

‘Molly certainly knows how to get what she wants,’ Hermione agreed. ‘But she does love you.’

‘Tough love,’ Ginny muttered.

‘Just imagine how your brothers must feel…’

‘Don’t remind me!’ she groaned loudly. ‘It’ll be like the Spanish inquisition. The less I see of my so-called brothers, the more content and confident I am! Of course it will all start off innocently enough. They’ll enquire about my life, always nodding in the appropriate places, and then they’ll hit me with the boyfriend questions.’ Ginny slowly walked through to her bedroom and threw open her wardrobe doors. ‘I’ll be flustered and non-responsive and then they’ll all laugh. Oh poor Gin! Still single while we’re all happily married/engaged/having an affair with the next door neighbour. What ever will we do with our silly little sister? And then mum will begin to get teary eyed and start bumbling on about her thinking me and Harry would be married by now. Like it’s my fault he unceremoniously dumped me!’

‘Maybe you’re overreacting just a tad,’ Hermione said softly, following Ginny into her bedroom and perching on the bed. ‘They just worry about you. I know Ron’s concerned about your future.’

‘If Ron even mentions the boyfriend issue, it won’t be my future he’ll be worrying about,’ she said venomously . She pulled out a long black skirt and held it up against her. ‘What do you think?’

‘Yeah, it’s nice,’ responded Hermione distractedly. ‘Why don’t you just lie to them then?’

‘I’ve read the books. I know that those kind of fibs always catch up with you. I’d be forced to hire a male escort, who would end up falling madly in love with me but I’d be unable to accept his advances because I’d misconstrue them as part of the deal. Then, when the passion became too much for us, we’d be forced to consummate the relationship. Then I would have to confess to my whole family that I was in fact desperate enough to pay for a man. They would all judge me harshly, but I would be content because I had my man. However once we tried to have an honest relationship we’d both realise it would be impossible with his line of work. I’d become jealous and bitter, the love would die and I would end up alone without my boyfriend or my family,’ Ginny said pushing her grotty jeans down her thighs and kicking them off in the direction of her laundry basket. ‘So you see, I could never pretend to have a boyfriend because there’s nothing to gain from it,’ she said triumphantly as her jeans hit the wall and slid into the goal. ‘It’s not worth the hassle.’

She turned to her friend with a flourish and realised that she might have taken the tale too far. Hermione’s face was drawn into a confused, disbelieving look. It accused Ginny of being completely barking - which to some extent was completely true. ‘I can tell that you’ve thought this idea through thoroughly.’

Ginny smiled slightly and, having slipped into her skirt, continued to flick through her clothes. There was a lot of truth to what Hermione had said; she did tend to hypothesis about relationships with anonymous men. Some people would say that it was daydreaming, but Ginny had always believed that these kind of fantasies should have happy endings. When she thought about these situations it was far more scientific. She would live out the relationship in her mind, always bringing it to the same conclusion; Ginny Weasley alone again. Maybe it was because she only had heartbreak to compare love to or maybe it was because she was a fatalist. Either way these imaginings were far from simple daydreams. They weren’t even wishes. Just possibilities; endless and constant.

‘I‘m sure Emerald would never have this problem,’ she mused with a sly smile as she pulled out a prim black top. ‘I think I’ll go as a spinster tonight.’

‘Fabulous,’ Hermione concurred.

***

‘Who died?’

Ginny scowled at Ron in a manner that denied his very existence. Why was it that siblings were the people who brought out the worst in you? One minute she was carrying on as normal and the next she was transported back to a time of name calling and hair pulling. However there was one major difference now; they were all powerful witches and wizards and hair pulling was the least of their worries. Once Ron had levitated her off the floor and left her there all night. Of course she hadn’t taken it lying down (no pun intended) and had avenged herself by putting a gluttony charm on him. When he finally stopped eating he was sick for three days and Ginny had felt a little guilty but not enough to warrant a reversal charm. But wasn’t that how all twenty-something siblings acted? Probably not.

‘Yes. I’m mourning for the loss of your single brain cell,’ she threw back. ‘Then again you’ve always been good at acting the mindless idiot.’

‘Ouch,’ Fred cut in. ‘I hope you two aren’t going to fight. I didn’t bring my camera with me.’

George walked into the kitchen and seated himself next to Fred. ‘What’s this? Have they already started? I had bets on it taking at least nineteen minutes. It’s only been three.’

‘My money’s on Ginny winning,’ Fred said knowingly. ‘She’s got a mean right hook.’

‘Gee,’ Ron said with an increasingly red face, ‘thanks for the support.’

The twins shrugged in unison. ‘Not our problem.’

Looking down at her plate, Ginny pushed her food about with her fork. Coming home was always purgatory. It wasn’t that she didn’t love her family - she would die for them - but they had a habit of making her feel like a child. Her mum would always ask her how her life was and it hurt Ginny to be such a disappointment. There had been such high hopes for Ginny when she’d left Hogwarts; Bill was working at Gringotts, Charlie had his dragons, Percy was a respected member of the Ministry of Magic, the twins had their own joke shop and Ron was playing professional Quidditch. Molly had a brood of successful boys and wanted to add another jewel to her crown in the form of Ginny. However she had had other plans. A succession of jobs followed, each one more a failure in her eyes. Her only hope in joining her brothers in stability was to get her book published. After all, being an author was a respectable enough career.

Ron was the worst of the bunch. They had always been close as children and although they weren’t always amicable towards each other they loved one another. At Hogwarts they had looked out for one another, ensuring that danger was never faced alone. When Voldemort had been defeated at the Battle of the Weir Ron became a man. He had seen a lot of pain and misery in his short life and his perspective changed. He lived for living. Harry, Ron and Hermione had become inseparable during their school years, but now it was over they all had to go separate ways. Harry had continued his fight for peace by joining the Aurors and Ginny had been his willing companion. However she had still been at school and it had been hard to see one another. When she left all that changed and they soon moved in with one another. Ron had been happy to see his sister with a man who was trustworthy and honest. They had made a great team.

The break up had really shaken Ron. He had been happily unaware of their problems, believing that they were the model couple. Whilst he was away on Quidditch tours, he had nothing to worry about because Ginny had Harry to look after her. It was almost as if he had been freed of his brotherly duties. Then one day he returned home to find Ginny sitting on his couch, alone and crying. She didn’t know why she had gone to Ron; it had seemed natural at the time. What she hadn’t thought was that Ron was Harry’s friend. He had comforted her as best he could - he allowed her to sleep on his couch until she could sort out somewhere else to live - but there was a heavy weight on his heart. How could Harry betray him like this?

Ginny had realised soon after the separation that Ron was not happy. He was concerned about his sister, unable to comfort her because his friend was the one who broke her heart. To this day she believed that he felt some sort of responsibility for the whole thing. He was now unable to be himself with Harry, afraid that he would upset either his friend or his sister. Ginny knew that they would never be the same until she managed to move on from Harry. That was the problem.

‘So Ginny, love, what have you been up to?’ Molly asked from her seat at the head of the table.

Merlin, the dreaded question.

‘Erm…’ Ginny mumbled, looking up to find the whole table looking at her expectantly. ‘Well…’

‘Yes?’ Molly continued with a hopeful smile.

‘I’ve been to the publishers about my book,’ she said anxiously. ‘They’re definitely thinking of having it published.’

‘Definitely thinking?’ Ron said, a frown creasing his face. ‘You don’t sound too sure about that.’

‘Ron does have a point,’ Fred agreed. ‘What did they say to you about it?’

‘Oh,’ her eyes returned to her plate, ‘they just want a couple of plot tweaks to make it more commercial.’

Silence settled across the table and everyone pretended not to notice the uncomfortable tension. Forks scraped across plates, people shifted about in their chairs and somewhere outside a cat was wailing. As she looked up she noticed that everyone was absorbed in their food. A family that eats together stays together, she thought bitterly. What a load of crap. In Ginny’s opinion food was just a diversion from actual talking; a bit like a cup of tea being a way to solve all problems. As long as people had their mouths full then they couldn’t worry about anything that was happening.

‘This is really good,’ Hermione said as brightly as possible. ‘I’m sure Bill and Charlie will be disappointed they missed it.’

‘Ah, yes,’ Molly warmly murmured. ‘They’re such good boys and they try to come home as often as possible but they’re both incredibly busy. Bill just got a promotion at Gringotts and we’re all so proud of him.’

The room went silent again. Ginny sighed inwardly and shovelled some mashed potato onto her fork. If you can’t beat them, join them. Attentively she chewed down her mouthful. It was amazing how a potato could taste so different depending on how it was cooked. She was pretty sure there was a metaphor somewhere in that thought.

‘Got a boyfriend yet then?’ Ron asked as casually as he could. It was obvious to everyone there that he’d been waiting to ask it since she arrived. Typically he always waited until half way through the meal. Maybe that way he wouldn’t spoil the whole evening for Molly.

Ginny put her fork down neatly by the side of her plate and took a deep breath. Silently she composed herself, aware that yet again all eyes were on her. ‘Ronald,’ she said with a disarming gentility, ‘I don’t believe that is any of your business.’

‘That’s a no then,’ Ron chuckled. ‘There’s no need to be coy about it.’

‘Ron…’ Hermione warned, glancing at Ginny sympathetically.

‘Don’t chastise your sister,’ Molly said primly. ‘If she wants to keep secrets then let her.’

‘I’m not keeping secrets,’ she looked sharply at her mother, aware that the exact opposite was being implied. ‘I simply don’t see how my love life is important. All around the world people are suffering from diseases, poverty, starvation, no clean water. Surely these things are far more important? But all Ron wants to know is gossip about my life. He seems to think that I need a boyfriend. Everyone needs clean water - no one’s ever died of a broken heart.’

‘Don’t be so pedantic, Ginny. Your brother is merely concerned about your well-being,’ Molly put down her knife and fork and gave Ginny a hard look. ‘Everyone is.’

‘Ah,’ she replied quietly. ‘Well if that’s the case then can I ask Ron when the last time he got laid was?’

Molly was silent, watching her daughter blankly. ‘Have it your own way Ginny,’ she said before rising from the table and walking out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

Ginny picked up her fork and began to eat the rest of her food. She knew she’d overstepped the mark and hurt her mother’s feelings, but didn’t they see how hypocritical they were being? There’s being concerned and being overbearing. She didn’t want them to tell her how to improve her life and she didn’t want their pity. Maybe it was an ungrateful way of thinking but she wasn’t going to be nice for the sake of it. After all, wasn’t it better to be honest?

‘Cup of tea anyone?’ George asked cautiously.

***

The evening had gone on without anymore outbursts from her family. Once Molly had left the kitchen they had amicably spoken about work and family. George talked excitedly about becoming a father and bringing a new Weasley into the world whilst Hermione discussed the economy with Fred. Ron had eventually spoken to Ginny, asking her to pass the custard and apologising for being an arse. She had returned the sentiment; yes he was an arse, but that couldn’t be helped. They had smiled at one another and already the whole fiasco was forgotten. However Molly never returned to the kitchen. Fred, George and Ron went in search of her, leaving Hermione and Ginny alone.

‘Don’t,’ Ginny said with a sad smile. ‘I know I shouldn’t have said what I did.’

‘I wasn’t going to say a word. I was going to ask how it went with Malfoy earlier,’ Hermione assured her friend as she set up a spell to do the washing up. The pots suddenly burst into life, scrubbing and scraping themselves clean. ‘Did you manage to see him?’

‘Yeah,’ she rolled her eyes, ‘unfortunately I did.’

‘Aw,’ Hermione turned and leant against the kitchen counter. ‘I really thought his ego would be big enough that he’d say yes.’

‘Oh, that’s the problem. He said yes.’

‘Then where’s the problem?’

Ginny pursed her lips. ‘We made a deal that I would work for him double the amount of time he spoke to me. Which means that I’m now an unpaid slave to His Majesty’s whims..’

Hermione’s eyes widened, a questioning look contorting her face so it resembled a surprised squirrel. ‘I hope we’re not talking about anything suspect here…?’

‘Merlin, no!’ she laughed. ‘I would rather die than be Malfoy’s sex slave. Eurgh. I don’t even want to think about what he looks like naked! I made it perfectly clear that this was strictly a business matter. I specifically said there would be nothing involving sexual favours, public humiliation or excretion.’

‘Excretion…?’

‘I don’t like it. Smells awful. Makes me feel sick.’

‘Right…’

‘Anyway the so-called lessons start tomorrow morning. I’m supposed to go to his office at nine and he’s going to tell me all about being a womanising bastard. Not the best way to spend a morning…but it could be worse.’

‘How so?’

She thought for a moment and gave a shrug. ‘Death, famine, plague.’

‘Just don’t tell him that,’ Hermione said with a laugh, ‘his ego’s already big enough.’

***

Merlin, she thought, this chair is bloody uncomfortable.

Having risen at eight o’clock, Ginny was not in the best of moods. As if it wasn’t bad enough that she had to get up so hideously early, she was faced with the awful prospect of facing Malfoy and then to add insult to injury he was late! She had made sure that she was five minutes early, eager not to get into any trouble with him, and had even chosen apparation over walking. On arriving however he was nowhere to be seen. Phyllis had made excuses for him - ‘He is very important, don’t you know?’ - but Ginny knew the real reason. He was torturing her. He knew she was desperate for input and that she’d wait as long as it took, unhappy as she may be.

‘Are you sure he said nine o’clock?’ Phyllis asked putting down her copy of I Want To Spoon You and running a podgy finger down its spine. ‘It’s unlike him to be late.’

‘Really?’ Ginny asked disbelievingly. She was trying desperately not to look at Phyllis’ top lip which was dark with hair.

‘He’s always on time,’ she nodded confidently. ‘In fact he loathes lateness. Says it’s the crime of mankind.’

She couldn’t help but snort. ‘Hypocrite.’

Phyllis eyed Ginny suspiciously. ‘I know this may seem an impertinent question…but why is it you’re here? I would have thought after the scene you caused yesterday he’d have had you barred. No offence intended.’

‘None taken,’ she said bluntly, shifting about on her chair. ‘I actually don’t know. I think I irritated him into seeing me.’

‘I thought that must be the case. He’s very susceptible to other people’s emotions.’

‘Are we talking about the same man?’

Phyllis nodded again. Ginny smiled to herself; Phyllis looked like a nodding dog. Obviously she was dedicated to Malfoy. Maybe she even believed herself to be in love with him. Could it be that Malfoy was right when he said that reading romantic novels was killing brain cells? That was the only explanation for such dedication. Either that or Malfoy was an incredibly good actor. ‘So is he a good boss then?’

‘Oh, yes. He looks after his staff.’

Ginny tried to stop herself from nodding; it was so easy to pick up other people’s habits. It was obvious that Malfoy was a treat them mean, keep them keen kind of a man.

The sound of the door hitting the wall sounded his arrival. ‘Weasley. Office. Now,’ Malfoy stated as he breezed through the reception area, a clothing bag clutched in one hand.

Obediently Ginny rose from her chair and gathered her bag into her arms. If this process was going to be relatively painless then she was going to have to behave herself. She had convinced herself that as long as she bit her tongue and avoided mentioning any family rivalries she’d manage to pull it off. All she had to do was breathe, count to ten and smile effortlessly. She was itching to ask him why he had kept her waiting. It was deeply frustrating that this would seem rude.

‘I kept you waiting because, unlike some people, I had other things to do,’ he said without looking at her. ‘Nothing personal.’

She smiled sweetly. ‘I didn’t notice.’

‘Of course not,’ he chuckled to himself and hung the clothing bag on the shelves. As he unzipped the bag Ginny noticed that it contained a grey tailored Muggle suit. It was amazing how one man could be so many contradictions; on one hand he was the head of a fiercely anti-Muggle family and on the other he was wearing their clothes. If she wasn’t trying to be nice then she would have questioned his choice of clothing, but again that might come across as rude. In the long run it was best just to keep quiet. With this in mind she silently seated herself in the chair opposite the desk.

He ran his fingers over the material, scrutinising it for signs of error. ‘Going on a date is like having a business meeting,’ he said gently. ‘It’s all a matter of different horses for different courses.’

‘Excuse me?’

He glanced towards her with eyebrows raised. ‘I didn’t realise you had impaired hearing.’

Ginny gritted her teeth together and tried to keep a stable smile on her face. It wasn’t an easy task - already she could feel the strain on her cheek muscles. This must be how her mother felt every time she was faced with an over eager Fleur. ‘Please could you expand upon your theory?’

‘A horse that runs well on a dry course will run less well on a damp course and vice versa,’ he said turning back to his suit and removing it fully from the bag. Ginny watched curiously as he hung it upon the bookcase, smoothing the material out with his hand and dumping the bag on the floor. There were people who dumped and people who folded - she certainly did not have him down as a man who didn’t care. Shaking her head slightly she tried to focus on what he was saying and not what he was doing. His hands were in constant motion and she was beginning to find them very distracting. ‘It’s a case of modifying a course of action slightly from the original to allow for altered circumstances. Are you keeping up?’

‘Erm..’ she rooted around in her bag and pulled out a note pad and pen. ‘I think so,’ she muttered scribbling down the phrase before she forgot it. ‘You’re saying that women are like horses…?’

He sighed heavily. ‘No Weasley. I’m saying that there are certain occasions where a change of taste, clothing or manner are required. For example in business you need to be sensitive to the cultures of the people you’re working with. This suit has a purpose,’ he said gesturing to it with a wave of his arm. ‘I know that by wearing it I will automatically be appealing to my client. It gives the impression that I am a man of modern inclinations - I am not lead by the prejudices of the past. This suit, in essence, tells the client that my company is the one most dedicated to filling their needs. Of course this can also be reversed and I have a full set of formal robes for the more…distinguished members.’

As he spoke Ginny couldn’t help but notice that he seemed to be removing his clothing. Without so much as a warning he had pulled off his jumper and dropped it to the floor. It lay discarded with the clothing bag like rejects from a bad porn movie. She marvelled with morbid fascination that his body wasn’t as bad as she had previously envisioned. He was lean, but toned, with broad shoulders and a good height working in his favour. His chest was pale and covered in wisps of brilliant blonde hair that, in the morning sunshine, made his body look like a peach. Attentively he rubbed his fingers in tiny circles over the goose pimples appearing on his cold flesh. Leaning down he opened a drawer and pulled out a neatly folded shirt. He shook it out and slipped it over his arms. Ginny quickly averted her eyes and wondered whether this was just another means of making her feel uncomfortable. She certainly wouldn’t put it past him.

‘Even I have to admit that I‘m not perfect,’ he said running a palm over his chest idly. ‘But with a few minor refinements can make me become anything I want to be. It’s all about the way you allow yourself to be perceived and confidence. Just like a business meeting .’

Ginny nodded eagerly. Obviously this was how Phyllis had picked up the habit…

‘Aren’t you going to object?’ Draco asked slowly buttoning up his shirt, too busy concentrating on the task at hand to look at her. His fingers toyed with each button, picking out the hole and then joining the two together. ‘Aren’t you going to reject the whole theory? Tell me that I shouldn’t think of a date in terms of a business transaction?’

‘Not at all,’ she said sharply in an attempt to pull herself together. ‘Although I think the metaphor may be a little derogatory, there’s some semblance of rational thought in there. Everyone tries to be their best on a date. It’s human nature.’

He smirked, finally bringing his focus back to her. ‘I never said anything about trying to be my best.’

‘You must have meant that though. Why on earth would you want to be at your worst?’ Ginny frowned slightly. ‘Surely that’s the last thing you’d want to do when you’re trying to make a good impression?’

‘Not every woman wants that.’

Hah, she thought triumphantly, his best was probably as good as a bear with a sore head! Maybe he’d convinced himself that the worst thing he could possibly do was act the perfect gentleman, seeing as it went so against the grain.

‘I’m sorry but I don’t quite follow your meaning,’ she said in what she hoped was innocence personified.

‘Human nature has a tendency to mimic the actions of a chameleon. Depending on who you’re with it’s natural that you’ll act in different ways. It’s one of the great flaws of the ideal romance. Women say that they want a man who will be himself, but that is almost an impossible thing to achieve in such a short space of time. People do not reveal themselves instantly, it’s something that has to be learnt. So we try to be the best person that we can be - which, if you think about it rationally, is a lie.’ As he spoke Ginny watched his hands; they seemed to have a life of their own, twisting and fumbling about. ‘What isn’t considered is whether or not women truly want the real best of you. You see women tend to have an over active sense of romance. Each and every one has a set idea of what they want in a man and it’s an ideal that only leads to general disappointment. They want the fantasy not the reality.’

‘But that’s just the same as mimicking the chameleon surely?’

‘Not at all. Wouldn’t you rather spend one night with a man who lives out your romantic fantasy? Or would you prefer a whole month of mediocre conversation?’ he looked her straight in the eye, a slight smile curling his lips. ‘I think the answer is obvious.’

She leaned back in her chair and observed him critically. ‘How do you know what this ideal is if it changes from person to person?’

‘Not “person”, Weasley, “women”. Men aren’t quite so complicated.’

‘Isn’t that a little cruel on your own sex,’ she laughed softly. ‘You can’t all be that bad.’

Draco cocked his head to one side and regarded her curiously. ‘Why not?’

‘Well…’ she avoided his gaze and concentrated on the far corner of the wall. ‘It’s just impossible. Somewhere there must be a man who has some sense of genuine romance. For instance some of the greatest love poems and stories have been penned by men. Doesn’t that prove that there’s some real sentiment in men?’

‘I agree that some men are more in tune with love as an emotion rather than an act. However I think you’re wrong in your assumption that they feel it the same way females do. For men it’s a lot simpler. Sex is essentially sex.’

‘Right, but you still haven’t answered my question.’

He glanced down at his watch and slouched lazily back in his chair. Absently he fiddled with a loose thread on the hem of his shirt and swung the chair from side to side. Ginny wondered whether he was still awake - his body was entirely still and his gaze was fixed on the pile of clothes on the floor. ‘Are you sure you want me to answer that?’ he asked with a sly smile. He looked like a small child who knew something he wasn’t supposed to.

Ginny eyed his suspiciously. ‘Why wouldn’t I?’

‘Because you won’t like the answer,’ he said simply.

‘Shock me,’ she rolled her eyes. Why was it he always tried to be so sensationalist? For a few minutes she’d actually forgotten that he was a complete jerk and had been interested in what he was saying. However reverting back to his juvenile self had broken the magic.

‘Okay,’ he straightened up and leant his elbow against the desk. ‘I know what women want because I pay attention to detail and I understand that most fantasies are based in fairy tales. From your past relationship I know that you like to see yourself as a damsel in distress. You want to feel safe and secure because you’ve been hurt in the past. However this hurt has caused you to become cynical of romance. Therefore I would have to reject it also in order to attract your attention. To cut a long, dull and boring story short, you want to be rescued from yourself - you need someone to experience this nothingness with you. Otherwise you’ll become the person who sits alone in the bar, knowing rather than believing that this is it. Love and loneliness…’

‘Stop,’ Ginny laughed a little too loudly. ‘You’re talking out of your arse.’

Draco nodded his head and rose from his chair. ‘Truth hurts.’

‘You don’t know me,’ she said firmly. ‘I’m not waiting to be rescued from myself! It’s a ridiculous thought! Complete and utter nonsense. I haven’t heard such bunkum since Mad Eye Moody told me I should take up knitting because it would improve my chances of snaring a mate!’

‘Then where’s the reason in denying it so much? You could have left it at the arse comment,’ he smirked.

Ginny closed her eyes tightly and tried to remain calm. It couldn’t be that Malfoy, of all people, understood her situation! It was just an act of suggestion. Already she could feel the seeds of self-doubt beginning to take root. She took a deep breath and clasped her hands together. Anyway there was no need to upset herself about it - it was just Malfoy hypothesising. His opinion didn’t matter. She didn’t care what he thought. Nope. He was not going to get at her. Then again…what if he was right? What if she was simply a damsel in distress? If she was stuck in a castle waiting around for the perfect man it certainly wouldn’t happen. Reality wouldn’t allow it. Or was this just her cynicism affecting her perception of romance? Argh!

‘I have a meeting in half an hour that I need to prepare for,’ he said with a serious, business like tone. ‘We shall conclude today’s meeting. However I would like to request that you allow me to read said novel. What’s it called?’

‘What?! Why?’ she asked in panic.

‘Because, although this may have passed your understanding, a title is fairly important to a book,’ he said patiently.

‘Oh. Right. No.’

‘No?’

‘No, you can’t read it.’

He rose from his chair and regarded her down his nose. ‘Anyone would think you didn’t want to be published and read by complete strangers.’

Merlin. Crap. Shit. Bollocks.

‘I don’t see why these…sessions require you having read my book. I’d prefer it if we kept this arrangement simple. Anyway, it takes time to read a book and you’re a very busy man.’

Draco moved towards the door at a speed that surprised Ginny. It wasn’t that he was quick, it was more that he seemed to move in a very precise manner, almost as if he’d planned the whole routine with painstaking detail. ‘I expect to see a copy on my desk tomorrow morning.’

‘Hang on,’ Ginny said indignantly. ‘I just said that…’

‘Tomorrow morning,’ he cut in impatiently. ‘I have an important meeting to attend to.’

Why is it I’m always being shown the door? With this thought she mustered all the dignity she could manage and sauntered over to the door, ensuring that she swung her hips in an authoritative way that she’d seen Hermione use to great affect. She held her head high and flicked her hair back. ‘Fine, I will make sure you have a copy by tomorrow,’ she said as though it had been her suggestion all along.

‘Good,’ he replied placing his hand at the base of her spine and gently guiding her out of the room. ‘Oh, by the way, you’ll need to wear something a lot more…practical tomorrow.’

‘What?’ However before she could get an answer from him the door was slammed shut. She pursed her lips and glared at the door.

‘Arrogant, no good, pig!’ she muttered under her breath. ‘I’ll show you!’

5. Chapter Five

Author’s Note: Merry (belated) Christmas and Happy New Year everyone! I hope everything has been, at the least, bearable. Just thought I would share some seasonal cheer and thank everyone for their kind reviews. I shall endeavour to stay the path of fiction! Obviously I don’t mean this in a literal way as walking on books would be wrong. And expensive. Enjoy!

Keep It Unclean

Chapter Five

It was just past five o’clock in the afternoon and the sun had almost disappeared from the sky. The wind was picking up, tossing garden furniture and trees alike. Rain pattered lightly against the rooftops - a pathetic attempt at intimidating weather. It was at this time of day that everything slows down and people begin to relax into the early evening. Within the warmth of her own home, Ginny enjoyed an early evening bath. The lukewarm water lapped round her stomach and thighs. Across the bath lay a plastic tray for holding soaps, sponges and the likes. Instead of this though there was a steaming mug of tea and a packet of digestives nestled in between a tattered book and a bottle of shampoo. As one hand dallied in the water enjoying making ripples, the other clutched at a trashy magazine. She tilted her head to one side and watched the picture follow her movement with a cheeky grin. Her nose wrinkled slightly in disgust.

“HARRY POTTER EXCLUSIVE” she read silently. It seemed that every article about Harry was an exclusive; the press had a field day every time he boiled a kettle these days. Without Voldemort they had been left with less dramatic headlines such as new magic policies and a wizard suing his own broom. However they were still intensely interested in the life of their favourite hero. Even Ginny had to admit that his picture alone made her want to buy the magazine. He was a money spinner and it didn’t matter that he was a fairly private man because they had means and ways of finding things out. They’d practically torn Ginny apart when they’d broken up. There had been rumours of an affair and mistreatment, both of which were untrue. The press simply weren’t interested in the boring reality. Harry must have suffered, Ginny must have been cold-hearted and they must have had the most acrimonious split ever.

Plucking her hand from the now murky water, she ran a dripping finger along the curve of the fake Harry’s glasses. A smear of water bled into the paper unceremoniously. It wasn’t the best photo she’d ever seen of him…then again she had seen a lot of them. This particular one was a close-up of his beaming face, winking heroically at the camera and sticking his thumbs up. The picture danced about in front of her eyes tauntingly. Again it was a case of the Boy-Who-Lived being the perfect icon of honour, respect and peace. If this picture was to be believed then he was goodness personified. Ginny smiled to herself and reached out to take a sip of her tea. It was satisfying to see that the magazine had airbrushed his face enough to make him look like he’d had magical surgery.

It didn’t hurt as much as it had done a few months ago. She didn’t even want to burst into tears anymore. If there was such a thing as progress then that was it.

Apparently Harry had recently visited Romania to seek advice on dragons from a close friend. They had been seen together eating lunch and chatting light-heartedly. Witnesses confirmed that Harry was looking in good health but that he had lost some weight; this was accounted for by the rise in Death Eater activity in western parts of Britain. Some exclusive, Ginny thought bitterly. It wasn’t even vaguely interesting! And yet, at the same time, she had been compelled to buy the magazine because of a hope that it might be.

What she hoped and dreaded the most was that he would find a new girlfriend. So far there hadn’t been anyone to speak of…but she knew that Harry was very good at covering up things like that. Their relationship had only been so well known due to the connection they both had from an early age. With a famous boyfriend and brother, Ginny was seen as something worth mentioning in connection with the either one. However as a separate entity she was simply Ginny Weasley and that wouldn’t sell newspapers. In some ways she’d been glad for the respite.

‘Oh well,’ she muttered to herself. ‘I guess it passed the time of day.’ With a well aimed shot Ginny threw it across the room, hitting the wall and dropping into the bin. There seemed no point in dwelling on what the past held. Later she’d probably dig it out and gaze at the photo once more, wondering whatever had happened to tear them apart. It still felt like he was an integral part of her life. Maybe that feeling would never leave her.

As she submerged her head into the water she couldn’t help but ponder whether Harry ever thought of her these days. Did he remember her with the same feelings as she did him? The butterflies had only died at the end of the relationship. She used to hold her breath whenever there was a knock on the door, waiting for him to call her name softly through the crack. That feeling was the thing she missed the most - anticipation, hope, confusion and love all jumbled together. It was strange how some of the their moments together were so vivid in her mind. She wondered whether they’d talk again, laugh again, without it turning into an argument. There had to be an end to it all somewhere. At some point she would forget the moments in between where he was completely hers. Their shared dreams would become nothing more than a faint memory. One day she wouldn’t remember his phone number off by heart.

What hurt the most was the feeling that she was being left behind.

Merlin Ginny, she thought to herself as she looked at the watery ceiling, you really must stop thinking about thinking about Harry! It isn’t healthy for the soul she mentally reminded herself and it doesn’t matter in the whole scheme of life. She surfaced from the water and rubbed her forehead wearily, squinting as it ran into her eyes. After all people are dying of thirst all over the world and you’re lying here completely submerged in water she rationalised. Harry is just a man. There are millions more of them out there.

Quickly, in an inspired act of defiance against her brain, she grabbed her shampoo bottle and squeezed a shot of green fluid onto her head. Her hands worked swiftly at lathering up the glutinous substance, tugging her hair up into a spike on top of her head and then scrubbing at her scalp like a woman possessed. In this instance it wasn’t simply a case of washing her hair - it was a cathartic experience that left her feeling a little less reflective.

Once done she managed to finish her tea, pop a couple of digestives and drag herself out of the bath tub. She wrapped herself in a couple of towels and darted from the warmth of the bathroom to her decidedly chilly kitchen. Absently she rinsed out her mug and left it on the draining board. She leant against the counter and sighed deeply. The flat was a tip and she really didn’t want to have to be the one to clean it all up. It was amazing how much stuff she actually owned. She hadn’t realised that she owned a measuring jug until she’d used it as a bowl for breakfast that morning. Where it had come from she couldn’t fathom but it had been useful when there wasn’t a clean bowl to be seen. From where she stood she could just see her typewriter, perched awkwardly on top of a pile of magazines with paper sticking out of it at all possible angles.

Writing her novel had become an unnecessary frustration recently and she’d found herself unable to form any coherent ideas. Inspiration had yet to come to Ginny as to how she was going to tackle a sex scene without cheapening the experience, leaving her feeling like a spare part without any direction. It had been two weeks since her first meeting with Malfoy and they had met several times to no real avail. They had discussed appearances, language and a woman’s insecurities. It probably only amounted to about two hours worth of actual speaking though because he had a tendency to drift off into his own world. Sometimes it would take him ten minutes just to contemplate one sentence! At least he was taking something seriously she thought bitterly. Her odd-jobs were another subject all together - she’d washed his windows, typed up his proposals (for the Muggle touch) and put his collection of books into alphabetical order. Simple enough until you saw the quantity that she was expected to do. Her brain still hurt from all the mental repetition of the alphabet.

However this was all a walk in the park compared to the utter agony of being nice to Malfoy. In all honesty she knew that Malfoy had been restraining himself. There had been less snide comments then normal and he’d even enquired as to her health. It was possible that it was this peacefulness that was driving Ginny slowly mad. She was finding it difficult to cope with the level of companionable chit chat. It was irritating the hell out of her that he was completely capable of being civil when she was struggling just to say “good morning” without telling him he was an arse. It was getting to the point where she wanted to insult him just to see what would happen, however it would probably spoil her chances of learning anything more from him. They hadn’t exactly covered much ground as it was. It wasn’t even worth writing home about. Not that she would dream of ever doing that.

There was one thing that roused her curiosity during their meetings; Draco Malfoy was a very complex person. On one hand you had his public image which was very straight-laced, neat and formal. He looked like the kind of man who would rather die than don anything other then the best and his nose was always risen in a way that suggested there was a nasty smell in the room. Then there was this other Malfoy, the one who wore woolly jumpers, always checked his watch and was a constant fidget. It amazed her how much he used his body when talking and thinking. In particular Ginny had become fascinated by his hands. They had a life of their own, in constant motion. There was a particular habit of Malfoy’s that Ginny found worryingly endearing; whenever he was deep in thought he would tug at his buttons or sleeve. She could see how he was a good business man though. Not only was he able to keep a straight face and good manners at all times, but he also had a physical presence that was intimidating. He had a way of almost phrasing questions without words just by standing in a certain way. It was a trait Ginny wished she was able to adopt at will.

Overall it hadn’t been the worst experience of her life. Having said that she had had some pretty awful experiences in her time. Her only problem was the way he irritated her without actually having to do anything. Inexplicable but true.

As she mused about the past couple of weeks she found herself drawn to the typewriter, her fingers dallying over the keys spelling out her own name. She smiled to herself and sat down on her rickety stool. Pulling the typewriter forward, she slipped a sheet of paper in and began to type.

The cold wind whipped her hair around her face until Handsome was almost entirely obscured by curls of chocolate delight. She pushed back her hair and gazed at him with a heated desire that almost broke her hazel eyes. Why was it that she was unable to breath whenever he looked at her with those big blue lagoon’s of love? Although his clothes were ripped from the fight with the enraged alligator and blood oozed from a cut on his cheek, he still resembled the country gent that she’d first seen on the Moor that fateful night. She had known from that moment that he was the one - it was the familiar way in which he made her feel safe. It was amazing how he managed to win every battle and still maintain his masculine quiff of hair.

‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered placing a hand to her bosom. ‘I should never have asked you to help me. This was never your battle to face…’

He turned away from her and looked into the depths of the valley, consumed by some internal battle. ‘We should find somewhere to sleep for the night. If we continue through this damned darkness we may fall to some peril. It would crush my very soul if anything were to happen to you.’

‘Ebenezer,’ concern laced her voice and she touched his arm, ‘what’s wrong?’

‘There’s something I must tell you,’ he remained unresponsive to her touch. ‘There’s something you don’t know about me.’

‘What is there to know?’ she moved so that he was looking at her. ‘Everything that I ever need to know I have seen here. You’ve faced so many dangers, protected me with every atom of your being and then shown great knowledge of the culture. Surely I have a portrait of your being with everything we’ve been through? I only have to look into your eyes to see your very soul.’

‘I’m…gay.’

Ginny ripped the page out of her typewriter and screwed it up into a tiny ball. ‘The good old plot twist,’ she muttered to herself. However hard she tried she knew that Handsome would forever be what he had been in the very beginning - a romantic hero to the end. He possessed every trait Ginny had considered noble like chastity and sacrifice. Sex was not merely a means to an end, it would be the very end of Handsome himself. It would go against his moral code and his sense of duty. And although she realised that he was merely a fictional character, Ginny was attached to him. She had played at being a god by creating him, breathing life into his literary bones, and to assassinate his character in such a way would hurt her more than she would like to admit. Hermione had once said in passing that, by creating Handsome, Ginny was in essence having an affair with him herself. They had laughed at the time…

The only way to preserve Handsome would be to write in another love interest. She thought about the idea for a couple of seconds, mulling it over. By having another love interest she could let Emerald have sex with Mr X and then maybe he could die of…malaria and she would find a new form of love with Handsome. Yes. She liked that idea. Emerald could become the tragic widow seeking revenge on the murderers of her late husband. There could be flashbacks, dream-like sequences, where Mr X wooed her and told her of an island. Emerald then meets the attractive Handsome who agrees to take her to there in return for…reading lessons. They set off together and all the action already written takes place but, instead of having instant love, they progressively begin to depend on one another emotionally. A love is formed. Unfortunately though the book ends with Handsome’s sacrifice and their love is never realised in physical form.

Ginny bit her lip gleefully.

However the jovial moment was cut short by a sharp knocking. With a frustrated sigh Ginny made her way over to the door, wrapping her towel round her body tightly to make sure it didn’t cause her any embarrassment. Timidly she pressed her ear to the door and listened for signs of life. ‘Who is it?’ she called in a sing-song voice, as all people do when answering the door.

‘It’s Malfoy,’ came the reply.

‘What do you want?’ she asked incredulously.

‘Strangely enough, Weasley, I want to come in. It’s like the bloody Artic out here.’

Ginny winced slightly at his tone and leant her forehead against the door. Great. Malfoy, possibly the most judgemental man in England, wanted to come into her poky, messy flat when she had nothing to cover her modesty but a fraying towel. Well it didn’t matter how nice she was trying to be - there was no way she was going to subject herself to that kind of scrutiny. ‘I’m afraid that won’t be possible.’

‘Why ever not?’

‘I’m not decently attired,’ she said through clenched teeth.

‘How so?’ he asked curiously and she could tell that he was smirking.

‘That’s none of your business!’ she growled indignantly. ‘Anyway, what is it you want to come in for?’

‘I would have thought that was obvious Weasley. I’ve come here for mad sex.’ he said loudly. Her mouth dropped open slightly and she could feel her cheeks going red. ‘Now if you don’t let me in I’ll be forced to stay out here all night. I’m sure you wouldn’t like to inconvenience your neighbours and myself by doing that.’

‘Fine,’ she said quickly, ‘but you’ll have to wait a couple of minutes.’

‘I’m sure it’s nothing I haven’t already seen.’

‘Just wait there…’

Ginny dashed across the flat, leaping over precariously placed piles of clothing. With a soft growl of annoyance she rummaged around for some clean looking underwear. Eventually, after a bit of a struggle with a bent bra fastening, she managed to make herself look slightly presentable. Okay, so the egg stain on her trousers was a little inconspicuous, but she didn’t want him to think that she was making any effort. She checked herself over in the mirror and shook her damp hair a bit so it fell into place. It would do. Stepping out of her bedroom she wearily carried a couple of rouge piles of stuff (she wasn’t entirely sure how her rolling pin had made its way into her living room) into her room and dropped them on the floor, making a mental note to clean up sooner rather than later. With a firm tug she managed to close the door on the chaos.

‘Right,’ she muttered giving the room a glance over. ‘It’ll do.’

With a deep breath she unlocked the front door and swung it open dramatically. No one was there. She frowned to herself for a second and stepped onto the landing. Sitting on the floor, nonchalantly flipping through a dog-eared copy of her manuscript, was Malfoy. His back was pushed up against the wall, his legs doubled up to form triangles with the floor. ‘You took your time,’ he said looking up at her. She raised her eyebrows to relate that she was only just tolerating his presence. He slowly rose from the floor and brushed himself down. Ginny examined his clothes discreetly - she found them strangely fascinating. Today’s choice was a brown v-neck jumper, jeans and a long grey coat. From where she was standing she could see the slightest wisp of blonde hair protruding from the jumper.

‘Aren’t you going to invite me in?’

‘Won’t you come in,’ she attempted a friendly smile and gesticulated towards the door with a flourish.

‘Don’t mind if I do,’ he said in a way that sounded particularly smug to Ginny.

Once she’d ushered him into her small abode she decided to leave the door unlocked in case she had to make a run for it, which was highly likely from the way he was eyeing the general clutter. She consoled herself with the fact that she wouldn’t be able to live any other way. An artist must be expected to create things. Whether it was a novel or a complete mess it all amounted to the same thing - an expression of her character. Of course, that said, she didn’t want people to translate that into a declaration of insanity. She wasn’t that bad. Yet.

‘What is it you want Malfoy?’ she asked in what she hoped was a civil tongue.

‘I’ve finished reading your…erm…manuscript,’ he replied, distracted by his scrutiny of the room. ‘I thought it prudent to talk about it out of office hours.’

‘Less distractions?’

He smiled slightly and turned to face her. ‘No. More time.’

Ginny nodded and wondered whether this was a good thing or not. Did he find the story so hypnotising that he needed extra time in which to praise her use of language? Somehow she doubted this. It was more likely that he needed more time in which to criticise her.

‘Fine,’ she said eventually, a little disconcerted by the way he was looking at her typewriter. ‘Why don’t you take a seat and I’ll make you a mug of coffee?’

‘No.’

‘No?’

‘No.’ Draco flipped the manuscript pages thoughtfully. ‘I was thinking we could kill two birds with one stone. I’m meeting an important client tonight and I would like you to accompany me.’

Ginny wrinkled her nose slightly. ‘You want me to be your date?!’

‘No.’

‘No?’

‘No,’ he said impatiently. ‘Don’t flatter yourself. The aim of this evening is to give the impression that I’m some sort of Muggle-loving fool. A good way of doing this is to associate myself with someone known to be just that. And what better example than the daughter of a well-known Muggle supporting Minister?’

‘You want to use me in order to make out that you’re…nicer?’ she asked with an amused smirk.

‘Let’s just say that by appearing in public with you would make me seem less antiquated in my beliefs,’ he scowled at her. ‘Alright?’

‘I suppose so,’ she couldn’t help but smile. ‘I never thought that you, of all people, would want to be seen in public with me! It’s quite funny if you think about it.’

‘Not particularly. Unlike your novel.’

Ouch, she thought with a mental wince. Why was it he was so good at spotting the chinks in the armour? You’d have thought a man with his head so far up his own arse wouldn’t be able to notice much. However she kept these sentiments to herself. She’d save them up until a time when she could be free of him. Then he’d be sorry.

***

‘So where’s this person we’re supposed to be meeting with?’ Ginny asked looking about at her surroundings.

Having been told that she was to make herself look marginally better - which, apparently, meant a lot better - Ginny had changed into her favourite grey dress, with woolly tights and a jumper. It wasn’t the most glamorous thing she owned but again it was a case of not wanting to look like she was trying. In her opinion Malfoy’s ego was already large enough. It had turned out that they were going to The Ugly Bug Bar which was fairly new to Diagon Alley and Ginny had only ever walked past it. She was one of those people who went to the same places whenever she went out and most of them were places she’d visited with Harry. Maybe she continued to go there in an act of defiance, or maybe to try catch a glimpse of him. However times change, people change and the world carries on as if nothing had happened.

‘When I said meeting,’ Draco said edgily, shrugging off his coat and passing it over the counter, ‘I meant potential meeting.’

Ginny glanced at him questioningly. ‘Have you brought me here on false pretences? If you have I’ll be very disappointed.’

‘The client I’m trying to snag,’ he replied slowly, ‘is known to frequent this drinking hole.’

‘Ah,’ she said walking to the bar and slipping onto a stool. ‘You’re stalking him.’

‘Not as such. Merely making sure coincidences are more likely to occur,’ he said following her. ‘What’s your poison? Oh and we won’t be sitting here so don’t get comfortable.’

‘Orange juice. Why won’t we be sitting here?’

‘We won’t be sitting here because I need to be able to see the entire room, which is impossible when you’ve got your back to it. Why don’t you go find a table somewhere over there,’ he gesticulated to a corner of the room, ‘and I’ll bring the drinks over.’

As she wandered across the room she couldn’t help but wonder why he was actually helping her. She had just about grasped her own reasons for needing the relationship, but his own agenda was still unclear. At first she had assumed it was his pride allowing itself to be worshipped - everyone loved attention. However it was beginning to become clear that she may have misjudged him. He was far more complicated than simply a man who loved himself. For example there had to be a story behind his intriguing collection of knitwear. Was it all simply a case of horses for courses? Was the jumper a way of displacing her from who he really was? It was more likely that she was reading too much into things.

‘Here,’ Malfoy put the glass down in front of her. She frowned and sniffed the drink cautiously. ‘I took the courtesy of ordering you something that wasn’t orange juice, I hope you don’t mind?’

Or it could be that he’s an evil, conniving, jumped-up bastard, she ended her train of thought triumphantly.

Ginny had chosen a booth in the corner of the room with big open seats and comfy looking cushions. If she was going to be chastised for her novel then she intended to do it in comfort. She had positioned herself so that she would be able to see the door - that way she’d have forewarning if someone she knew came in. Malfoy put his own drink down and slid onto the bench and extended his arms along the back. His thigh was dangerously close to her own and Ginny fought the urge to flinch.

‘What is it?’ she asked loudly pointing to the drink and trying to ignore the fact that his hand was casually touching her shoulder from where it lay. ‘When you said poison I didn’t think you meant literally. Although thinking of it now, I shouldn’t be surprised.’

‘Now be nice Weasley,’ he scolded gently, leaning close to her ear so she could hear over the music. ‘A gentleman buys you a drink and you don’t even say thank you. If I were your date I would be greatly put out.’

She rolled her eyes. ‘Thanks.’

‘You’re very welcome.’

‘That doesn’t answer the question though. What is it?’

‘It’s called a Screaming Volcano,’ he said matter-of-factly.

‘Oh.’ Ginny picked up the glass and examined it carefully. ‘What’s in it?’

‘Look, Weasley, if you’re too frightened to have it…’

That really pushed her buttons and didn’t he just know it. She didn’t have to look to know that he practically had smug written all over his face. Well she would be forced to drink it now. It couldn’t be that bad after all! It was just a drink. Okay, so it was purple and steaming but it could be worse. Taking a deep breath she took a long swig. As it went down her throat it felt as if her whole mouth were on fire. She took a sharp intake of breath and winced.

‘Eurgh,’ she exclaimed once she regained the ability to speak. ‘I see why they liken it to a volcano now. That’s awful.’

‘Give it a chance to work,’ he said with a half smile.

‘What…’Ginny stopped suddenly. All across her stomach she could feel a fluttering warmth that was spreading to every part of her body. She curled her toes involuntarily and her skin tingled slightly. ‘That’s weird.’

‘Nice though, isn’t it?’ he said taking the glass from her hand and putting it on the table. ‘Or so I’ve been told. Apparently they use dragon’s breath and crushed raspberries in order to get just the right effect. A kind of pleasure and pain thing. Of course it’s also incredibly potent, so maybe we should just wait a little longer until having anymore.’

‘Yes,’ she muttered fanning herself with her hand.

‘Anyway, to the matter in hand,’ Malfoy said brightly, slamming the manuscript down onto the table. ‘To call this complete crap would be cruel. Honest…but cruel. For starters your characters are completely unbelievable. You have situations here more complicated than finding a needle in a very large haystack. I got so confused at one point I had to start again. And I was already two hundred pages in! Handsome was irritating and Emerald a complete dimwit. Who on earth would fall in love with a woman who’s so self obsessed that she almost falls into a ravine?!’

‘If that’s your first thoughts, I hate to think what the second one’s may be,’ she said angrily and shuffled away from him. ‘And I guess you think you can do better.’

‘Not necessarily,’ he gave her a stony look. ‘Isn’t the whole point of this exercise to get my opinion? To develop what you’ve already written into something more believable?’

‘Yes,’ she said tightly feeling herself become more confrontational with every word. ‘However I did expect something a little more constructive.’

‘Fine. I apologise.’

She looked up at him blankly. Absently she picked up her glass and polished off the rest of the purple fluid. It really hurt her when people read her novel and saw only the negative things. No one was perfect and it was impossible to get it right the first time. She knew in her heart that she needed help; it was just difficult to ask for it when you were so invested in the project. ‘I’ll be needing another one of those,’ she said loudly, hoping that she didn’t sound as upset as she was.

‘I thought that would be the case,’ he pushed his own glass towards her. ‘Have mine.’

‘Thank you,’ she said in exaggerated politeness.

‘Let’s forget about that for now,’ Malfoy swept the manuscript off the table with a flourish. ‘I can see that you’re in the mood for suggestions. Instead let’s talk shop. Think of this as a field trip.’

‘Isn’t that the same thing as discussing the book?’ she asked taking a small sip from the new glass. ‘What is this?’

‘It’s called Hairy Chest.’

‘What!?’ Ginny gave him a sharp look.

‘Obviously they don’t mean .literally, Weasley,’ he smirked. ‘Although I’m sure that would provide some light entertainment for us all.’

‘Shut up, Malfoy.’

‘Be nice,’ he warned sarcastically, ‘I may think you don’t like me otherwise.’

Merlin! Ginny seethed in silence. She had known when she’d handed him the book that he would not appreciate it; he’d already said that genre killed brain cells. However she hadn’t expected his opinion to mean so much to her. She had anticipated it being a case of water off a duck’s back. That wasn’t how she felt right now though and he knew it. Malfoy knew he was hurting her and was taking pleasure inflicting it upon her. Maybe it was all a bit of a game to him. Sadistic. Yet at the same time he’d brought her to a nice bar, bought her expensive drinks and been generally civil.

‘How is it that I’ve managed to consume almost two drinks and you’ve not touched a drop?’ she asked suddenly. ‘Are you trying to get me drunk?’

‘No. I would never do anything that obvious.’ He leant back in the booth and looked around the bar. ‘You’re the one who said you needed another drink anyway.’

‘Hmmm,’ she drummed her fingers around her glass, still worrying about what Malfoy would have to say about her precious book. ‘I’ll believe that when I see it.’

Malfoy glanced at her and let out a pretend sigh of surrender. ‘Here’s the first lesson of the evening: always buy the drinks. By doing that you’re giving off a certain image. People will think you’re generous with your money. It’s very attractive to certain women.’

Ginny snorted. ‘You mean gold-diggers.’

‘Sometimes,’ he conceded. ‘Although buying drinks also gives you the advantage that everyone feels slightly indebted to you. It means they’re more likely to say yes when you ask something of them.’

‘And I bet I can guess what you ask for!’ Ginny sassed with a cheeky tone.

‘I never have to ask for that Weasley,’ he said with a sly smile. ‘In fact I make a point of it. Surely you must have learnt that much from our little chats?’

She gave him a doubtful look and took another sip of her drink. ‘That can’t be true of every instance you go out with a woman. At some point there has to have been one woman who you’ve desired more than she’s desired you? It is practically impossible that it couldn’t have happened so far!’

Malfoy slid closer to her so that their thighs pressed together intimately. He craned his neck slightly so he could speak into her ear uninterrupted. ‘Of course it has but what’s the point in asking if you know what the answer if going to be already? If they don’t want you as much as you want them then there’s nothing to ask. What most women don’t understand about me is that I’m just looking. Not buying.’

‘Pig,’ she responded lightly, nudging him in the ribs with her elbow.

‘And don’t you just love it?’ he slyly whispered into her ear. ‘Some part of you revels in the fact that I’m not a good boy. That’s why you need me.’

Ginny couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all and also to relieve the tension. ‘Come on! I do not revel in the fact that you’re an arsehole. I’m simply curious as to what makes you tick. For instance why does a business man such as yourself constantly fidget? Surely you can sit still for two seconds.’

‘I do not fidget!’ he said incredulously.

‘Oh and how is it that you manage to attract so many women? I can’t simply discredit the entire of my sex as being brainless. They must know what they’re getting themselves into,’ Ginny said with an honest smile. ‘No offence, obviously.’

A pained look passed over Malfoy’s face. ‘Ouch. That was almost a scathing remark on my abilities as a man.’

‘Tell me. How do you manage to get the girl, as it were? I know you don’t pay for it,’ she asked eagerly. It could be that her brain had kicked into gear, or the fact that she’d had some strong alcohol, but she was suddenly feeling strong and playful. It no longer mattered what he thought of her.

‘It’s just one of life’s little mysteries Weasley,’ he said nonchalantly. ‘Maybe we’ll never know. That’s the beauty of sex. Attraction can be completely irrational.’

She rolled her eyes. ‘You must have a theory. How else would you be so offended by the characters in my book? They may be idealised, as my publisher frequently says, but at least they know why they want one another.’

‘Maybe we’ll save it for another time. I don’t want to give away too much, too soon.’

‘Tell me,’ she insisted slapping his arm gently. ‘Otherwise I will be forced to tell everyone that you’re an inadequate lover and you’ll never be able to come in here again.’

Malfoy smiled to himself and rubbed his knuckles. ‘I think the drink may have loosened someone’s tongue.’

‘Maybe…’ Ginny looked down into the bottom of her glass and wondered how she’d managed to finish it so quickly. ‘That doesn’t mean that I’m not saying what I want to say however. Which I am, by the way. That is to say the words I’m speaking are the words I’m thinking. Meaning, even.’

Malfoy, however, didn’t appear to be listening to a word she was saying. He was staring across the bar, his eyes fixed on someone that Ginny couldn’t quite make out. She could tell he was deep in thought by the way his fingers busily picking at the hem of his jumper. For a moment she thought he might not speak again.

‘Weasley, I’m going to kiss you and you aren’t going to say a peep. Understood?’

‘Pardon?’ she asked in shock. ‘Did you just say you were going to…’

‘Yes. You asked me to tell you how I managed to attract so many women. So I’m going to show you, okay?’

Ginny nodded mutely and gazed up at him in terror. This was possibly the scariest experience of her adult life. How on earth had she got herself into this position? All she wanted to know was how he managed to trick so many women into sleeping with him! Of course she could have refused him but she didn’t want to appear prudish. She didn’t want him to think that she was frightened of a little kiss. After all it was just a kiss. People kissed each other all the time without it meaning anything. New Year’s Eve for example was a prime example of this. Obviously this was slightly different…

‘There’s no need to look so scared,’ Malfoy chuckled coldly. ‘It’s not going to kill you.’

‘In your dreams, Malfoy.’

‘Don’t tempt me,’ he said with a sly smirk before leaning impossibly close to her without making contact. ‘Remember to breathe…’

It was strange the way her heart jumped into her throat when his lips touched hers. She could feel the panic rising as his hand came up behind her neck, holding her in place. His kiss was gentle and chaste - it was a kiss without any expectations. In a way it was sweetly shy like a first kiss. It amazed her that he could be so tender. She felt her own lips remain slacken under his gentle administrations. Her eyes closed with a flutter and she could feel the roughness of his stubble prickling her skin. It was a surreal moment of head meeting heart; the overwhelming sense of physical contact with another human being. The next second the contact was gone and she opened her eyes quickly. His body was still close to hers and she could feel the heat of his breath on her face. Their eyes met. He was looking at her in an intense manner, making her blush slightly under the scrutiny.

‘You see,’ he murmured, ‘it’s not about looks or power. It’s about suggestion. If I can make you believe that you’re the only woman in the world for me then I’ve won. All I have to do is kiss, touch, and look at you in a certain way.’ He moved his hand from her neck and brushed a strand of hair away from her eyes. ‘Can you feel it?’

‘No,’ she said defiantly.

‘Liar.’

6. Chapter Six

Keep It Unclean

Chapter Six

‘So let me get this straight. He kissed you?’

Ginny nodded. ‘But it isn’t what you think.’

‘I very much doubt that it isn’t what I think,’ Hermione said flatly. ‘After all this is Malfoy we’re talking about. He isn’t exactly known for being honest and wholesome. Oh and that could possibly be the most cliché line known to mankind! It’s the kind of thing people say when they’re caught in bed with someone they shouldn’t be.’

‘It’s hard to explain.’

‘Try me.’

It was the afternoon and Ginny and Hermione had met in the park to go for a walk and analyse the previous night’s excursion. At first Ginny had been unsure of whether to tell her friend everything that had occurred but it was never in her nature to keep things to herself. In fact she was very open in her thoughts hence why many people found it difficult to hold a conversation with her. Some would call it verbal diarrhoea. With this in mind, Ginny had taken Hermione to a coffee bar and bought her something suitably strong then, incredibly bluntly, told her that she had shared an intimate moment with Malfoy. So far she was taking it all very well.

‘Firstly it wasn’t a kiss for the sake of kissing,’ she said carefully. ‘He told me he was going to kiss me, he explained why and then did it. It wasn’t exactly romantic or passionate. Just a kiss.’

Hermione raised one eyebrow dubiously. ‘Don’t you think he was taking advantage a little? It sounds to me like he challenged you to say no and you were too stubborn to do the sensible thing.’

‘Oh come on! It’s not that bad. I could have kissed him back. Or worse, slept with him.’

‘I wouldn’t put it past him to try and convince you that it would be a good idea. He’d probably say that it was part of the research,’ she said darkly. ‘That man is so…smooth.’

‘It was quite nice really,’ Ginny picked up her muffin and plucked at it thoughtfully.

‘What?!’

‘Well, it has been a while since I’ve had someone kiss me. I’ve missed it.’

‘I seriously hope you’re not falling for him…’ Hermione looked at her friend with concern. ‘I know it hasn’t been easy since you and Harry broke up, but things will get better soon.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous!’ she said incredulously. ‘I just enjoyed the attention. Anyway let’s talk about something else.’

‘Fine.’

They sat in silence. Ginny nibbled on her confectionary attentively. The warmth of the room was making her feel sleepy. Then again it had been a late night; she couldn’t even remember what time she’d stumbled into bed. After the kiss they had quietly chatted for a couple of hours. As she recalled it had mostly been Malfoy doing the talking. He had pointed out various women and commented on their attire. Apparently there was a lot to be learnt from the footwear a woman chose; flats tried to give the impression of a care-free attitude whereas heels screamed for attention. To a certain extent she’d found herself agreeing with him. It had been very surreal the way they had just talked - it was a bit like gossiping with Hermione.

‘Just out of curiosity, for scientific reasons, what was it like?’ Hermione asked suddenly, as if the question had burst free against her will.

Ginny grinned. ‘I thought we weren’t talking about this anymore.’

‘I know, sorry,’ she scolded herself. ‘It’s just I can’t stop thinking about it! Malfoy was possibly the last person I would ever envision you kissing. It seems so wrong. Against the grain. Debauched.’

‘I didn’t kiss him,’ Ginny corrected lightly. ‘He kissed me. I believe the distinction is very important.’

‘Sorry…what was it like then?’

‘Well, it was sort of like a first kiss when you’re unsure of what to do. It wasn’t perfect. It didn’t really make me want to rip his clothes off… I guess the best way of describing it would be to say that it was sweet. Innocent. Shy,’ she said contemplatively. ‘It was more touching than kissing.’

‘Doesn’t sound like Malfoy.’

‘It wasn’t.’

‘Sorry, you’ve lost me again. I thought you said Malfoy kissed you?’

‘Oh it was him physically but it was a rehearsed kiss. It’s the kind of kiss you want someone to give you. He says that it’s not about appearances but about the way you make the person feel,’ she leant back in her chair and gazed out of the window. ‘Arrogant pig reckons it will make any woman feel special and wanted. It plays up to their fairy tale fantasies.’

‘And was he right?’ she responded cheekily. ‘Did it fulfil you’re wildest dreams?’

‘No!’ Ginny screeched loudly. ‘It lacked the right man for starters!’

‘But didn’t you just say that it was nice?’

‘Biscuits are nice, Hermione. Teddy bears are nice. It doesn’t mean I want to have intimate relations with either,’ she saucily laughed. ‘It was just nice to have someone kiss me even if it was Mr full-of-himself Malfoy. You have no need to worry about this girl’s heart. It’s staying firmly in my chest for the time being.’

‘Well that’s good to know,’ Hermione giggled into her coffee. ‘For a second there I thought you may have taken a fancy to him.’

The two women lapsed back into a comfortable silence, each one engrossed in their food. Ginny went back to the night before and tried to frame in her mind what Malfoy had said about her book. He had disliked the fantasy and yet wasn’t he the one who used them as a means to get women? Maybe that was why he hated Handsome so much - he was everything Malfoy pretended to be. However it didn’t quite fit as a hypothesis. Malfoy believed that passion was spontaneous need. Handsome loved Emerald with a passion and it wasn’t about sex. It was about romance; the word Malfoy had contempt for. To him romance was something women were led to believe in order to get them into bed. It was a lie because men didn’t think in those terms. Handsome, on the other hand, was completely rooted in romance and the soul. Hadn’t they always said in school that Malfoy had no soul?

‘Has it ever occurred to you that you may be in danger of having him take a fancy to you?’ Hermione broke Ginny’s train of thought. ‘It could be possible that whilst you are impervious to his charm, he is completely open to yours. After all, men always want what they know they can’t have.’

Ginny choked on her hot chocolate and gave Hermione a withering look. ‘Don’t be stupid.’

‘As you very well know,’ Hermione spoke into her mug, ‘I am far from stupid.’

‘Sorry. Although you must admit that, whilst you may have a fully functioning brain, the theory of Malfoy taking a “fancy” to me is downright…imbecilic!’

Hermione lowered her mug to the table, arched her fingers and viewed her friend with a knowing look. ‘Stranger things have happened, Ginny.’

‘Yeah, right,’ Ginny laughed dismissively. ‘For starters he’s showed absolutely no sign of any kind of affection towards me.’

‘Maybe he has a child-like view on these proceedings. You know? The little boy in the playground who pulls your hair and steals your broomstick because he’s besotted with you? Just adapt that scenario to your own situation and it all begins to make sense.’

‘Hah!’ she pointed a finger excitedly in Hermione’s direction. ‘I’ve got you there too! You see Malfoy isn’t like that towards me. He’d very civil and well-mannered. In fact he sometimes boarders on being friendly, thus proving that he doesn’t like me like that. So there!’

Hermione was smiling slyly now. Oh damn, Ginny thought to herself, she was joking and now you’ve gone and made yourself look like a complete fool. She hated being baited by her so-called friends, but they insisted on doing it because they knew she would over react. The easiest thing to do was to be a mature, responsible adult and laugh it off. Or deny that it ever happened. Whichever came out of her mouth first.

‘Anyway,’ she said haughtily, ‘it doesn’t matter what his feelings are.’

‘Doesn’t it?’

‘Nope.’

‘Well that’s a good thing to know.’

The two women grinned at one another and laughed.

‘Wouldn’t it be funny if you and Malfoy got married?!’ Hermione gasped through her laughter. ‘Imagine what your mum would say!’

Ginny snorted uncontrollably. ‘Oh yes. That would be a riot. I reckon the marriage wouldn’t last very long anyway.’

‘I know. He’d drive you absolutely round the bend.’

‘Actually I meant that my brother’s would probably murder one of us.’

This heralded another fit of giggles from Hermione, who made it look as if she hadn’t heard anything quite as funny in her entire life. Ginny wasn’t sure whether she should be insulted by this or not. Unable to make up her mind she half-heartedly laughed. Trust Hermione to find homicide amusing. She looked up at the clock which was doling out time on the other side of the room.

‘Crap,’ she sighed heavily. ‘I have to go and face the beast.’

‘Once more into the breach, dear friend,’ Hermione squawked dramatically, ‘once more!’

Ginny gave her a peculiar look which signalled to Hermione her particular feelings on this outburst. She looked down apologetically, a small smirk ruining the sentiment. Quickly Ginny scooped her bag up from the floor and rifled through her pocket for some money. Eventually she dropped a handful of spare change onto the faux-marble table. ’Sorry,’ she mumbled before darting out of the café.

The wind hit her across the face like an angry lover; at least that was the metaphor she preferred the most to describe it. Part of her was always in author mode. The wind wasn’t simply a wind, that would be far too boring. It was a thing of pure energy, ravaging the world with it’s bitterness. It was a lost soul searching for peace in a noise filled world. It was vengeance, love, serenity, blood, God - the parts of her that she was blind to see. Most of all though it was something that reminded her of the enormity of life itself. Things came and went and yet nothing really ever changed. In her mind this life was only temporary. One day the earth would reclaim the land and humanity would be left out in the cold. Quite possibly literally.

She shivered inside her duffel coat and clutched her bag to her chest. Looking left and right, she crossed the road and made her way over to a public portkey box (which was a bit like a Muggle telephone box, but with more buttons). As she approached the bright red box she tried to remember what the address for the Safetex building. Was it on Spangle Lane or Vacuous Street? She would have to look it up in the directory. That’s what she disliked the most about public portkeys; they had a nasty habit of going wrong. Her worst nightmare was that she would end up in one place and her clothes another.

Once she was safely within the box, she closed the door behind her and picked up the directory. In front of her were various different shaped buttons, each one a portkey to a different street within Diagon Alley, and a small circular slot. To use the portkey you had to place the tip of your wand into the slot and press the appropriate button. It cost two galleons to use and, by using your wand, the cost was billed to you at home rather than having to use change. Ginny had never been that good at operating these kind of portkeys but it was the only way she’d been able to make coffee with Hermione and her meeting with Malfoy. Taking a deep breath, and making sure she had a grip on all of her faculties, she placed her wand in the slot and pressed the button. Her eyes squeezed themselves shut.

‘Thank you for using Portkey Ltd. Have a nice day!’ a warm honey-coated voice boomed from all around her.

She opened her eyes cautiously and found herself in one piece, standing outside the Safetex building.

***

‘No, no, no. You’re not listening to me,’ Malfoy said smoothly. ‘People aren’t going to believe that this man has single-handedly killed a crocodile, whilst fighting flesh eating old men and suffering from a mild form of constipation.’

Ginny rolled her eyes. ‘Handsome does not have constipation. It’s malaria.’

‘And that makes it so much more realistic,’ he drawled as he paced up and down the room. ‘What you need to do is cut out some of the rubbish and develop your characters more.’

It had been three hours since Ginny had arrived in his office and all they’d done was bicker over plot points. She had been surprised to find him completely alone; even Phyllis was absent from her place by her desk. He was quick to inform her that he had recently closed a deal and had no other meetings for the rest of the day, which unfortunately meant that he was all hers for the entire afternoon.

‘It’s not supposed to be that realistic…’ she attempted to defend her work. ‘Where’s the fun in sticking to the boundaries of reality? People want to suspend their disbelief and believe that anything is possible.’

Malfoy gave her a disbelieving look and settled himself against one wall. He waved her manuscript about in his hand. ‘I thought author’s were supposed to write about what they know.’

‘Oh please,’ she could hear the exasperation in her voice. ‘If that was the case then there wouldn’t be any adventure in half the books we read! There wouldn’t be any drama or mystery. It would all be very humdrum. Boring.’

‘You’re assuming everyone has a life like yours,’ he smirked slightly. ‘Some people can’t even imagine that kind of boredom.’

‘Okay. Fine. But you do realise that you’re suggesting every murder-mystery writer should have killed someone first?’ she said triumphantly. ‘Just so they’ve experienced what they’re writing.’

‘You know perfectly well what I mean, Weasley.’

Ginny hated it when he used that tone with her. It was a voice which only just tolerated her existence and made no show of doing otherwise. He had a habit of using it to make her feel childish. It was something to do with the way he used her name like a disappointed teacher would. Malfoy had several tricks up his sleeve when it came to demeaning her or making her feel like an idiot. It was really beginning to get up her nose.

‘The only way you’re going to get this published is to make changes,’ he said firmly. ‘Otherwise they will just send you away again. Remember you’re the one who asked me for help. I didn’t have to say yes.’

There he goes again, she thought, being rational and sensible. It made her feel bad for snapping at him because he was only trying to help. At least that’s what he implied he was trying to do. ‘Sorry,’ she mumbled incoherently.

‘Pardon? I didn’t quite catch that,’ he asked with calculated seriousness. ‘It sounded suspiciously like an apology.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Don’t apologise. It’ll ruin the whole basis of our relationship,’ he said as he pulled his jumper off, muffling his voice slightly. He bundled it up between his hands, a look of deep concentration on his face, and tossed it into her lap. ‘And we wouldn’t want that, would we?’

‘Clearly,’ she said coldly, picking up the piece of clothing with finger and thumb and dropping it onto the floor. ‘Any more suggestions?’

‘Now, now,’ he crossed his arms, ‘there’s no need to get crotchety just because I’m right.’

‘I am not crotchety!’ Ginny said indignantly.

‘And yet everything seems to be indicating the opposite…’

‘You are so immature sometimes.’

‘Harsh, Weasley,’ he said turning away from her to look out the window. His hands were shoved into his pockets, his shoulders slumped slightly giving him a world-weary look. ‘Have you had any thoughts on the sex situation?’

Coming from anyone else Ginny would have found that amusing. ‘No.’

‘I didn’t think you would have,’ he said simply.

‘What’s that supposed to mean?!’ she cried .

Malfoy seemed to hesitate at the question and she was weary of what his answer would be. From all their conversations Ginny had come to realise that the longer the pause the more thought Malfoy was putting into his response.

‘Well, I think it’s fair to say, that you’re a bit of a prude,’ he said slowly.

‘What?! I am not a prude! In fact I’m as far from a prude as a person can be.’

‘Oh really?’ he turned to face her, an interested look on his face. ‘Then explain to me why you see so intent on avoiding the issue of sex between the couple?’

‘I’m not intent on avoiding the subject. I just think that,’ she dropped her voice to a whisper, ‘sex would cheapen the romance.’

Malfoy laughed with a disarming softness. ‘What ever would make you think that?’

For a second Ginny thought it may be a rhetorical question, but the ensuing silence and Malfoy’s expectant look made her realise that he was looking for a serious answer. Well, where to begin? She could tell him about how physical attraction should never be the basis of a lasting relationship. Maybe preach to him that romance had nothing to do with sex. Sex wasn’t chivalrous or noble. It wasn’t exactly doing the decent thing. A hero didn’t climb the tower to rescue the damsel for a quick shag.

She bit her lip thoughtfully. ‘It’s all a matter of heroism.’

‘Ah, you’re one of those people are you.’ It wasn’t a question but a statement.

‘What people would they be then?’ she asked irritably.

‘The people who refer to sex as “love making” or something equally sickening. Basically those in complete denial of their own innate urges. Anything other than having sex with someone you,’ he sniggered, ‘love is somehow obscene and completely uncalled for.’

Ginny shifted uncomfortably in her seat, desperately searching her mind for a suitably scathing comeback. ‘Am not,’ she eventually said, inwardly cringing at her own childishness.

‘I bet you’ve never even contemplated a one night stand,’ he said with an amused smile.

She regarded him with what she hoped was disdain. ‘Just because I respect myself enough not to be a tart, doesn’t mean I’m in any way prudish.’

‘I don’t recall suggesting that only prostitutes weren’t prudes,’ he said solemnly.

‘Typical man!’ she crossed her arms defensively. ‘Sex isn’t everything.’

‘What else is there then?’

‘Love,’ she said firmly with a touch of defiance.

‘I was wondering how long it would take you to get round to that,’ Malfoy muttered wearily. ‘I’d best sit down for this.’ He strolled over to his chair and slouched into it rebelliously.

Ginny observed him silently. With his crumpled shirt, rolled up sleeves and unruly hair he almost looked mollified. Dark circles were beginning to form under his eyes and yet his mouth was set in a grim line. Whilst part of her knew him to be unscrupulous, it was hard to match his current image to his personality. She shook herself slightly - this was no time to analyse and dissect his character.

‘Don’t you believe in love?’ she asked flatly.

Malfoy smiled slightly and looked down at his hands. ‘I believe that people need people.’

‘That’s a little…rationalised.’

‘I think that there are all kinds of love in this world and most of them are misplaced. There are people who worship love; who put all their faith into it. They crave it because they think it’ll make their lives better or more fulfilled,’ he paused and twiddled his thumbs. ‘Personally I think it’s a false idol.’

‘I wouldn’t say that,’ Ginny said hotly. ‘Love is important.’

‘Don’t be so naïve. Love hurts more people than it ever cured.’

Okay, she thought, so he does have a point there. It was true that loving Harry had only eventually caused her pain but surely it was better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all?

‘Surely you’ve loved someone…?’

‘Of course I have,’ he said with a nod. ‘At least I thought I was. It turned out to be more of an infatuation though. More trouble than it was worth by the time we called it a day. She was good in the bedroom but a bit of a hag elsewhere.’

‘Wow,’ Ginny said sarcastically, ‘I can tell you really loved her.’

‘Come on Weasley, cut me some slack. I’m a misogynistic pig, remember?’ he let out a long sigh. ‘I’m sure you’ve realised by now that I’m not a particularly forgiving person and I’ve certainly no attachment to that gold-digging bitch. I think I’m allowed to sully her reputation.’

‘Well at least it proves that you’re not completely impervious to romance,’ she said matter-of-factly.

‘I never said anything about romance,’ he raised his eyebrows suggestively.

‘Oh, are we back to sex again?’ Ginny rolled her eyes. ‘I should have known better.’

‘Romance is contrived, Weasley. It cancels itself out because it means that everything is planned out. That’s why so many women get suckered in by a bunch of flowers…an extravagant gift. They think it means something when it’s just technical manoeuvre to the bedroom.’

‘You’re so cynical.’

‘No, I’m realistic. A man buys a bunch of flowers for a woman and hopes that it’s a good enough gesture to gain a reward,’ he leaned forward and looked her straight in the eye. ‘You’re the one who thinks that romance isn’t about sex, so explain to me how I’m wrong.’

She tried to hold his gaze but felt strangely violated by it. ‘You haven’t got a romantic bone in your body.’

He smiled slyly. ‘Correct. It’s not a romantic bone at all.’

‘Pervert.’

‘Probably,’ he shrugged like the matter couldn’t be helped. ‘At least I’m not deluding myself with fantasies of a knight in shining armour, riding a white steed and spouting more slushy poetry than a nineteenth centaury romantic in the Lake District. In fact now we’re talking about it, that’s more perverse than simply enjoying sex.’

As he spoke Ginny narrowed her eyes. ‘There’s nothing wrong with wanting a man whose intentions are noble and who isn’t afraid to be romantic. Genuine, some would say.’

‘And there’s nothing wrong with passion and sex as an alternative,’ his voice was firm.

‘I guess we’ll have to agree to disagree.’

‘Oh I can certainly promise you that Weasley,’ he smiled at her briefly and looked down at his watch. ‘However we will have to suspend this conversation for now. I have a board meeting tomorrow morning that I can’t be tired for.’

‘Fine,’ Ginny stood up from her chair with a yawn and stretched her arms upwards. Her bones clicked satisfactorily. ‘When do you want to arrange the next meeting for?’ He was silent, his eyes fixed on the middle distance. ‘Erm…time?’

‘I have a full schedule tomorrow morning but I intend to go home for an hour during the afternoon. We can continue this conversation then. Three o’clock,’ his eyes averted themselves to her face with a curious look. ‘You know where I live?’

She hesitated. ‘I’m sure I can find it.’

‘Good,’ he pushed his sleeves down his arms and stood. ‘Would you mind passing me my jumper?’

Ginny bent down and plucked the gathered the jumper up into her arms. A whiff of an earthy scent rose from the garment as she passed it to him. For a split second she had an urge to bury her face in it. That would have been embarrassing she thought to herself. She had always loved the way men smelt.

‘Wear something practical. I have some painting for you to do while you’re there.’

She groaned. ‘Fine.’

As she left the room her bones felt heavy with sleep. She pictured her little bedroom and suddenly couldn’t wait to get home to the smell of dog and coffee. Hitching her bag up onto her shoulder she stepped forward to open the door and was surprised when Malfoy reached round her and held it for her. ‘Goodnight,’ he said politely.

‘Oh. Goodnight.’

They stepped through the door and he turned to lock up. She paused unsure of what she was supposed to be doing. Should she just walk away as usual? Or was she expected to wait for him? Malfoy finished what he was doing and began to stroll down the corridor without another word.

Strange man, she thought to herself. Very strange.

7. Chapter Seven

Keep It Unclean

Chapter Seven

Emerald watched him as he crossed the room with panther ease. It had been a long and weary night working behind the bar - her hands were rough from the task of cleaning pint jars and slapping away the stray hands of the local riff-raff as they grabbed at her with their dirty paws. However none of this really gave her reason for concern as her mind had been elsewhere. She had been walking, almost floating, alongside the mysterious gentleman who had eyes like a storm at sea.

He had arrived the previous night and taken a room. Even though she had never spoken to him though Emerald was completely captivated by his rugged good looks. His face bore the scars of a life lived well; she could not take her eyes off them. With caution she had looked within the guest book to see his name. D. Calloway. She rolled the name about in her mouth and it tasted like nutmeg fantasies.

‘Madam,’ his voice reached into her very existence. ‘Ale, please.’

Her hand gripped round the pump, knuckles white with the tension in her fingers. Slowly she pulled downward and the amber fluid dripped from the tap alluringly. She bit her bottom lip nervously, her eyes glancing up at him flirtatiously. He returned her gaze coolly unmoved by her good looks.

‘Anything else?’ she asked huskily.

A smile tilted his perfect mouth. ‘You in my bed. Half an hour.’

Emerald’s heartbeat quickened rapidly. ‘Oh, sir! I…’

‘What? You’re not that kind of girl?’ he chuckled softly. ‘Come now, you must be able to think of a better reason than that.’

‘Mr Calloway! I am not a prostitute available to the highest bidder!’ her voice trembled with emotion. Part of her wished she could be that woman, just to be able to hold him for one heavenly hour. ‘That’ll be a pound please.’

She stuck her hand out to receive the money but instead she was pulled forward suddenly. His mouth was upon hers, forcefully shoving his…

Ginny paused and considered whether simply putting “tongue” would satisfy her publisher. She had a suspicion that something should be throbbing - or maybe pulsating - with lust for Emerald. Also could she get away with her leading lady contemplating prostitution? They would probably tell her that it would need to be cut. After all, what kind of example would that be setting to the target audience? These questions didn’t change the fact that she was feeling particularly chipper about the new twist however. It had given her muse something of a lease of life. Ideas were pouring out of her imagination like rain from a cloud. The only problem was that not all of them were anywhere near good; they were half-baked plans with no real point. All she knew was that Dragon Calloway would be her saving grace.

She leaned back in her chair wearily. This wasn’t getting her anywhere! Malfoy had said that the book needed more passion and spontaneity but she hadn’t really experienced enough of either to write about it. No one had ever propositioned her in a bar or kissed her passionately simply because they wanted to. She had never even had a one night stand. Strangers always remained that way to her; strange.

Malfoy on the other hand had heaps of experience at his fingertips. Possibly literally. Not that she envied such frivolous ventures. No, she liked keeping herself to herself when it came to meeting people. Of course that did make it hard to actually do the latter part of that thought. Chatting up men had never exactly been her forte. Mostly it consisted of her being defensive about everything from the meaning of life to her shoe size.

What she needed was some light relief from all this writing business. She’d been working hard (ish) for at least forty minutes now and her fingers were starting to ache from typing. Anyway she needed to do some research. She needed to immerse herself in meaningful literature in order to be inspired. In other words a couple of trashy novels with no plot (and plenty of sex) needed to be read. And possibly a tub of fudge ice cream could be procured. Strictly because it was a brain food. Obviously.

***

The bookshop was surprisingly quite when Ginny got there. Barring the lack of people everything was as it always was. The bell tinkled happily as she opened the door, she was hit by the smell of new parchment and the gentle creaking of the bookshelves wrapped itself around her like a blanket. Ever since she had been a child she had held a lot of faith in bookshops; they were the safest place in the world. It was a mystical realm where you could hide away from reality, shake off your worries and for those precious few hours forget yourself. She had always held the strong belief that you could, literally, lose yourself in a good book.

Molly Weasley had always marvelled at the way in which her daughter had consumed literature like Ron did pumpkin pie. It had bemused her that there could be so much pleasure gained from words alone. Surely there was more fun to be had shopping or playing Quidditch with her brothers. Sometimes Ginny had spent whole days locked away in her room, as silent as a mouse, and it had worried Molly no end. Yet she had never been able to begrudge Ginny the happiness of a book. The way her face lit up with excitement was enough for Molly. There were worse things to lose a child to.

Ginny closed her eyes for a second, pushing away the thoughts of her first year at Hogwarts. That had been the only time in her entire life that she had lost faith in the written word. The diary had lied to her; it had stolen her innocence and youth and forced her to grow up before she was ready.

No. She wouldn’t allow herself to ponder on it for too long. Opening her eyes, she focused on a nearby stand in an attempt to drive off the memories of dying. In some ways, she later thought, it had been a mistake for her eyes were met with the grotesque cover of the latest B.A. Sheep book; Be My Teapot. It was a painful title to say the least, but this was not the main cause for Ginny forgetting her previous woes. Splashed across the cover was a picture of a half naked woman desperately clutching a teapot to her heaving bosom.

‘Tasteful,’ Ginny murmured. Cautiously she stepped over to the stand and retrieved a copy of the book from its cardboard nook. The woman gazed up at her intently, oozing sex, pouting as if her life depended on it. Ginny’s nose wrinkled slightly in disgust. This was exactly the thing she most wanted to avoid; exploitation of the female figure. Mister Barry America Sheep obviously had no scruples about selling his soul.

She turned the book over in her hands and studied the blurb.

“Locked in a loveless marriage, harassed by a petulant sister and pursued by the local psychiatrist, Petunia Brazil was beginning to feel as if her dreams were slipping away…until she meets the mysterious tea-merchant Mr T. Spoon. In a whirlwind of temptation and desire Petunia begins to realise that there’s more to a cup of tea than meets the eye! But can she have her cake and eat it? The much anticipated novel from B.A. Sheep, the mind behind ‘I Want To Spoon You’, is now yours to treasure.”

Ginny rolled her eyes and flipped to the back page. Her eyes scanned down it disinterestedly. What was the point of writing a book if the whole plot was summed up by the last paragraph? Mr. T. Spoon! Hah. Such a ridiculous name. What ever possessed the author to give his characters such cringe worthy names? You’d never see Ginny doing a thing like that.

‘I never had you pinned as one of those erotic fiction types, Gin.’

She clutched her chest with a start and turned to see the person addressing her. ‘Merlin, you almost gave me a heart attack,’ she flustered. ‘What are you doing here anyway? I thought you were allergic to books.’

‘Oh ha ha,’ Ron crossed his arms over his chest obviously not amused by her attempt at humour. ‘Is that any way to greet your brother?’

‘Hello Ronald,’ she said with forced sweetness, stepping forward to put a sloppy kiss on his forehead.

‘Eurgh,’ he complained, wiping furiously at his skin with the back of his hand. ‘You can be so gross sometimes!’

‘Oh Ronald, I was only trying to give you an appropriate sisterly greeting,’ she simpered.

‘Don’t call me that!’

‘Ronald. Ronald. Ronald.’

Ron emitted a long suffering sigh, choosing to ignore baiting. ‘The reason I’m here is because I’ve been wanting to have a little chat and saw you coming in here.’

‘So you weren’t stalking me then?’

‘No. Should I have been?’ there was a soft seriousness to his tone.

‘What is that supposed to mean?’

‘I know all about what you’ve been up to.’

Ginny’s heart sunk in in her chest, pushing her stomach up into her throat. Ever since she had embarked upon her journey of discovery with Malfoy, she had known that her family must never know of their meetings. It wasn’t that she was ashamed of herself…more like mortified actually. Part of her was filled with self-loathing at the fact that she’d become so dependant on Malfoy for help with her book. The thought of her parent’s reaction was heartbreaking. They wouldn’t cause a scene or complain. Her mother’s eyes would cloud over and she would sip her tea inoffensively. Her father would tell her that it was her own life and who were they to interfere. But lurking at the back of their looks would be disappointment and that was the worst punishment of all.

‘How could you even think that you could keep a scam like that from me?’ he said with a wide grin.

‘Erm…’ Ginny gave him an uneasy smile. ‘I haven’t a clue…?’

‘You should have seen the look on Harry’s face when he told us! It was a classic,’ his voice was filled with excitement. ‘At first I was angry but then Hermione explained it all to me. Genius. Pure genius, Gin.’

A frown creased her forehead. What in hell’s name did Harry have to do with Malfoy? A sense of relief began to wash over her. Maybe she hadn’t been caught out lying. Not that she had lied. Just avoided certain unhealthy truths occasionally. That still didn’t explain what he was talking about…

‘Thanks,’ she faltered slightly. ‘I’m…just surprised Hermione told you.’

‘Oh don’t blame her, Gin, she had to tell me because I was acting like an idiot.’

‘Nothing new there then,’ she said automatically. ‘How much did she tell you exactly?’

‘Oh, enough for me to know that you’re a genius! I never knew you had so much cunning in you,’ he halted suddenly, a pained look on his face. ‘I meant cunning in a good way.’

‘Cunning…?’

‘Yeah, cunning,’ he said with a winning smile as he shoved his hands deep into his pockets. ‘He was so incredibly jealous! I don’t think he would have been more surprised had you told him you were joining a monastery.’

‘Nunnery,’ she corrected absently. ‘Monks live in monasteries. They’re men.’

‘Same difference. Anyway I don’t think it’ll be long until he’s banging on your door begging you to take him back. Especially if you pull another scene like I hear you did at The Ugly Bug Bar,’ he rocked back on his heels merrily. He patted her arm as if she‘d just caught the golden snitch and won a game of Quidditch. ‘I always knew you two were meant to be together.’

The jigsaw of information within Ginny’s mind clicked together and the relief that she had previously felt had suddenly vanished. Panic began to slowly climb up her throat and it took all her control to suppress her squeal of realisation. Hadn’t that been the place she had gone with Malfoy? Hadn’t he been waiting for someone who frequented the bar? Wasn’t he eager to sit impossibly close? Didn’t he kiss her there? She recalled his eyes flicking to something at the back of the room. Something she couldn’t see. No, she thought firmly, don’t let your imagination take over. He wouldn’t have engineered something so dastardly…

‘Yes,’ she whispered to herself, ‘he would.’

‘Pardon?’ he asked giving her a strange look.

‘Nothing. Sorry,’ she said calmly. ‘So you really think my scam worked do you?’

‘Certainly. I mean, obviously he was pissed off at first. He kept muttering on about how you’d desecrated the past happiness you’d shared and how you were mocking him. Seemed to take it all pretty personally,’ he nodded his head enthusiastically. ‘Haven’t seen him so riled since…I can’t remember. You must have known that pretending to be with Malfoy would make him jealous though! Utter genius.’

Ginny gave an uncontrollable bark of laughter and covered her mouth with her hand. ‘Harry? Jealous?! Of Malfoy?’

Ron looked a little uncertain at that point. ‘Wasn’t that the plan?’

She pursed her lips together, wondering whether this was the time or the place to tell the truth. Her brain was all over the place at the moment. The whole situation seemed like something out of a dream. Not a favourite dream, but a dream nonetheless. Any second now Hermione would jump out from behind a bookshelf wearing a cat suit and singing about teapots.

‘You know me,’ she said vaguely.

A nauseous feeling was stirring up her insides uncomfortably. She darted past Ron, leaving the warmth of the shop. Her lungs filled with the painfully cold air. This was not happening. It couldn’t possibly be happening. Ron was on her heels quickly, yakking on about how her plan was going to be such a great success. She knew he was asking her a question but she couldn’t quite focus on the words. Something new was beginning to replace the panic and it’s presence was bursting through her skin.

‘What makes you think that I want Harry back?’ she demanded, her voice cracking slightly against her will.

‘Hermione said…’

‘He broke my heart,’ her voice pleaded desperately for him to understand her. ‘He…he broke my heart.’

Ron’s face was filled with concern and curiosity. ‘I know.’

‘Didn’t you ever consider that I might be trying to exact some kind of revenge? Did it ever even enter your mind that I might want to cause him the pain he caused me? That it wasn’t about getting him to come back to me?’ she was filled with such an exquisite pang that she couldn’t quite control herself.

‘Hermione…’

‘How could you think that I would want him back after what he did to me?’ she swiped angrily at her eyes, trying to hold back the angry tears threatening to fall.

‘Ginny, I don’t understand what you’re trying to tell me!’ Ron put his hands on her shoulders and shook her gently. ‘Hermione said that this was all a plan to get Harry back. I know you still love him. It makes sense that that’s why you would kiss Malfoy, of all people, in public. Why else would you do that?’

‘I didn’t kiss him,’ she defiantly mumbled. ‘He kissed me.’

‘What difference does it make? Harry saw and that’s all that matters,’ his voice was soothing. ‘Now’s your chance to have the love you deserve. Harry’s sorry for what he did. I know he loves you. I know it. It would make us all so happy, Ginny, to see you two together again.’

She frowned slightly and shrugged off his hands. ‘Why don’t you bloody marry him then?!’

‘Ginny…’

‘No! You listen to me and listen hard. I want you to tell Harry that it’s none of his business who I kiss. Tell him that if he even thinks about asking me to take him back that I will hex him so badly that he’ll be in hospital for a year. For once in your flaming life don’t let him convince you I didn’t mean it because I bloody do. Don’t let him tell you that he still loves me. I don’t care. Love has nothing to do with it,’ she took a deep breath. ‘Now if you don’t mind I have to go and paint some walls.’

‘But…’

Ginny turned away from him, a determined look on her face. Someone was going to pay for this and she knew exactly who that would be.

***

The Malfoy’s had always been an aristocratic and well moneyed family, who dined in the finest places and lived in largest. So when Ginny arrived in front of Malfoy’s residence at two thirty she was slightly confounded by what lay before her. Instead of the stately home with crumbling walls she had expected, there was a simple red-brick town house with vines covering the whole front. Part of her was disappointed that he wasn’t living some Dracula induced fantasy but she didn’t let it bother her for long. She was a woman on a mission.

Walking up the steps she didn’t feel in the least bit intimidated. Everything was relatively normal. Maybe a little too normal for her own taste. The door was black, smooth and shiny with a perfect large brass knocker placed centrally. It all seemed so ordered and neat. Her own distorted features glared at her in the reflection as she knocked.

Two seconds later the door was opened. She was a little dismayed to find that instead of some ancient butler, who she could make a scene in front of, Malfoy was the one who answered. He was wearing a neat shirt which had obviously just been put on and it was such a bright white that Ginny couldn’t look directly at it without squinting. Instead she looked down and found that he was barefoot.

‘Weasley,’ Malfoy said shortly. ‘You’re early.’

‘I am,’ she said defiantly, averting her eyes to his face.

‘I’m glad you’ve noticed that. Come back in half an hour,’ he said with a smile and slammed the door shut.

Ginny’s eyes narrowed irritably. There was no way he was going to wriggle his way out of this. He had some explaining to do and it didn’t matter how early she was. Her hand quickly went back to the knocker but before she could slam it home the door opened again, catching her a little off balance.

‘You are persistent aren’t you?’ he drawled lazily leaning the side of his head against the doorjamb. ‘What could possibly be so important that you’d come early? Let me think…’

‘You…’ she began threateningly, her arms crossed defensively.

‘Hush now,’ he brought a finger up to her lips to silence her. ‘Now it couldn’t possibly be because you want to spend more time with me, or because you couldn’t wait to get started on the painting. So I can probably assume that you’re here to berate me.’ The corner of his mouth tilted slightly into a smile. ‘Of course. Potter.’

Pushing his hand aside, she barged past him into the house. Her upbringing meant that she refused to have confrontations on people’s doorsteps. It just wasn’t dignified or polite. Malfoy didn’t resist her actions and closed the door behind them. She bounced from one foot to the other, angry that he’d managed to reach a conclusion before she’d made her accusations. She wanted to be the director of all the drama.

‘You knew that he was there that night, didn’t you?’ she asked loudly.

‘I wouldn’t believe you naïve enough to think I didn’t,’ he responded smoothly. ‘So I won’t insult your intelligence by denying it.’

‘Why?’ she demanded.

He leant back against the door casually, his arms folding across his chest almost to imitate her own stance. ‘Why not?’

‘That isn’t answering the question as you damn well know.’

‘I don’t have to answer to you Weasley,’ his voice was maddeningly casual.

‘Did you plan it beforehand?’

‘Probably.’

‘For Merlin’s sake! Can’t you ever just give a straight answer?!’ she ran her hand through her hair in frustration.

‘Maybe,’ he was smiling now. ‘Maybe not.’

Ginny took a deep breath in to try and calm herself down. She was not going to let him get the better of her. ‘So you thought it would be funny to let my ex-boyfriend see us kissing?’

‘We weren’t kissing. I was kissing you. There’s a difference.’

Her eyes narrowed. Hadn’t she said something very similar several times before? ‘You know what I mean.’

‘How can it be my fault that he misinterpreted the situation? I don’t see why you’re cross with me.’ He pushed away from the door and walked towards her, stopping when they were almost touching. ‘I bet he loved every second of it. The arrogant prick probably assumed it was all about him.’

She looked up at him and decided that he was trying to intimidate her with his height and proximity. Although it did make her feel uncomfortable, she stood her ground. ‘Don’t you think that’s a bit like the pot calling the kettle black?’ she asked haughtily.

Malfoy smirked. ‘How did you find out that he saw us?’

‘My brother thought he would pop by to tell me what a genius I was,’ she said coldly. ‘Apparently everyone’s under the delusion that I’m trying to win Harry back by prostituting myself to a bastard like yourself.’

‘I’ll have you know that I was born within wedlock,’ his tone was jovial, but there was a dangerous edge to what he said. ‘So maybe you should put more thought into the next insult you throw at me.’

‘Why did you do it? Do you get some sort of sick pleasure from meddling in other people’s lives?’

‘Not in the least,’ he said simply. ‘I just thought it would be amusing to see the look on his face. Which, by the way, it really was.’

Ginny felt her palms itching and smiled slightly. With one swift arc she brought her hand round and slapped him hard across the face. The crack of skin and air colliding echoed around the room. There was a certain amount of gratification to the pain that shot through her hand. She shook it out by her side and looked up at him. A ferocious red mark glowed on his cheek merrily. It struck her as strange that he had not flinched, almost as if he had been expecting her to hit him the whole time. His eyes were intently staring at her, his face a complete blank. The room was verging on silent with only the sound of their breathing and the ticking of a far off clock breaking through. Ginny bit inside of her lip angrily. Grey, she couldn’t help thinking, grey eyes. They were so close she could see the lightning forks of colour framing his iris. Completely, wonderfully, grey.

What to do now? Run. She broke eye contact and brushed past him on her way to the door. Her desire for flight, however, was ambushed by the strong grip that was suddenly on her upper arm. She winced slightly and turned her head to face him. For a second she thought he was going to say something; his lips were parted and yet no sound came. They just looked at one another unashamedly. Oh Merlin, she thought, don’t think what you’re thinking Ginny. Don’t let yourself even begin to wonder what it would be like to…

His grip loosened on her arm and after a couple of seconds it was gone completely. She watched as his hand swung gently by his side, his fingers flexed. Not once did his eyes leave her face. Grey. She met them for a split second before retreating to the door. Her hand touched the cold metal of the handle and turned it. The door creaked open a crack and an imperceptible breeze crawled over her skin wearily.

Why are you pausing? Leave. Get out. Go.

Suddenly he was there again, close, turning her round and pushing her against the door, making it slam shut. He was staring at her but she refused to meet his gaze this time. The floor, the ceiling, the red mark on his face; her heart was pounding against her rib cage as if trying to escape. She could feel his breath moving a strand of hair against her face, slow and rhythmic. He moved a fraction so their bodies were touching completely. Somehow his hand had made its way to her face without her noticing. Her mind seemed to bury itself with the thought of his fingers stroking her against her temple lightly. Crap, shit, bollocks - a not entirely clean mantra, but she couldn’t stop herself.

‘Shouldn’t have done that,’ she mumbled incoherently. ‘Have to go now.’

‘Kiss me,’ he whispered harshly against her skin.

Their noses were touching now. His lips were near to hers but he did not kiss her. The anticipation was almost killing her. It wasn’t that she wanted this to happen but there was something about what was happening that was completely addictive. At the back of her mind she knew it was all a game. She couldn’t pull back though because she had to know what it would feel like. Quickly she closed her eyes and pressed her mouth against his.

What happened next she couldn’t even describe in her mind. It was all a jumble of feelings, textures and tastes. The coarseness of his stubble as it roughly connected with her face and the exasperating feeling of saliva on her skin. A slightly sweet taste in her mouth from their rough kisses. The sensation of being compressed by his body. Her skirt hem cut into her thighs awkwardly as he tried to manoeuvre his hand to a more appropriate location. She felt herself almost humming with the energy surrounding him, yet couldn’t put one coherent thought together. All that mattered was that his hands seemed to be everywhere; pulling her hair, cradling her neck, tracing the curve of her hip, pulling at her clothing.

Merlin, he was a good kisser.

It took her a while to realise that Malfoy wasn’t the only one making all the moves. Her hands had made their way down his chest, tugging at the impossible buckle of his belt. Why was it that men’s clothes had to be so inaccessible?

That was the moment it all stopped. She knew it the moment her mind had wondered onto the inadequacies of male clothing. His attentions came to a grinding halt, as if he could sense that the fog in her mind was beginning to lift. Malfoy stepped back, his breathing ragged and loud in the empty hall. She opened her eyes and observed the state he was in as if a complete stranger - she felt completely detached from the scene before her. His shirt was half open, his hair awry and the mark on his face seemed more vivid now than it had before.

‘No,’ he said firmly and, with a quick turn, left the room.

Ginny took a deep breath, leant heavily against the front door and blinked a couple of times just to make sure she was actually awake. Yes, she seemed to still have all her faculties. With this revelation however came the deep cut of rejection. Had Malfoy, known for being a complete cad, just stopped himself from having sex with her? This inevitably led to a certain amount of self-questioning. She realised it would seem irrational to an outsider, but she couldn’t help asking what was so wrong with her. What was it about her that repulsed him so much?

Overcome with the same sense of anger she had felt before, she stormed after him and found herself in a small kitchen. Malfoy was close to the door, leaning against a worktop and pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers.

‘What the hell just happened?!’ she shouted angrily, jabbing him in the chest with a finger.

‘Weasley…’ he grabbed her hand. ‘Don’t push me.’

‘Me?! Push you?!’ she spluttered angrily. ‘You just had your bloody tongue down my throat and your hand up my skirt, and you don’t want me to push you?! Men!’

‘I know this may be difficult for you to grasp, but what just happened was a mistake.’

‘A mistake?’

‘Yes.’

‘Fabulous. A mistake. Great,’ she said sarcastically. ‘What bothers me is that it’s never stopped you before. What makes this different?’

Malfoy let go of her hand and took a step back. ‘I don’t love you,’ he said frankly.

‘What!?’

‘I don’t love you.’

‘Merlin Malfoy! What did you expect me to think? We’ve only just really kissed!’ she turned away from him and rubbed her forehead with her hand. ‘I wasn’t expecting a proposal or anything.’

‘This isn’t what you want.’

‘Bollocks. This is your emotional involvement theory again, isn’t it?’ Ginny glanced back at him began to pace. ‘You’ve convinced yourself that all women are looking for commitment and therefore you can’t even contemplate shagging me.’

‘No,’ he said sternly, ‘not all women are looking for commitment.’

‘Then what’s the problem?!’

‘You’re not all women. I…’ he paused with a sigh. ‘This is difficult to explain.’

She spun to face him. ‘Try.’

‘With you it isn’t just a case of sex. If I sleep with you I’m crossing some sort of boundary. I’ve seen how you think. You’ve seen how I think. Worse, in fact, is the fact that you know I know what you want. I can’t be a surrogate hero for you and you certainly can’t be a whore for me. We’d be using one another for the wrong reasons. Then in the morning I’d have to lie to you because…’

‘Sorry, but I think you’re going to need a bit more specific,’ she said with an irritable glare. ‘We aren’t going to sleep together because you don’t want to lie to me?’

‘We only really lie to the people we don’t want to hurt and I have no right to hurt you. I’m not your lover or your friend. I’m not part of your family. I’m an acquaintance. Hurting you wouldn’t be my place.’

‘And this isn’t hurting me?’

‘No. This is breaking it to you gently.’

It was as if something within her cracked. All of a sudden she was unable to contain the laughter that was welling up within her. It ripped open the seams of her existence and she giggled as if there was no tomorrow. Draco watched her with horrified curiosity. ‘What’s so funny?’

‘You are!’ she said between hiccupped breaths. ‘I never thought I’d see the day when you took sex so seriously! Bugger me, it’s hysterical if you think about it.’

He frowned. ‘I don’t see the funny part.’

‘Don’t you? It’s like we’ve switched places. I’m the one wanting to have promiscuous sex! Me!’ she put her hand to her mouth and smiled. ‘Sex. Never knew I had it in me to even say that out loud. I always thought I’d be sensible with my body and only give it away to really deserving individuals. I was, in essence, waiting for something to happen my entire life. You were right about that, by the way. I waited for Harry to love me. I waited for him to come back to me. I waited for my novel to make my life better. And do you know what I’ve just realised? That waiting is a bloody bore. Life passes you by so quickly and you’re still waiting for the phone to ring. Surely you must see what’s happened…’

‘I’m sure you’ll enlighten me.’

‘You’ve just been proven correct Mr Malfoy,’ she said gently. ‘Passion isn’t something that can be planned or contained or explained away. I’ve just realised that this isn’t about romance or love. We don’t even like one another! We’re just satisfying a need…’

Ginny smiled to herself and dropped her shoes to the floor. Slowly she slid her feet into them and straightened out her attire. She ran a hand through her tousled hair aware that Malfoy was watching her every move carefully. Taking a deep breath she held her hand out towards him. He took it hesitantly and she shook it firmly.

‘It has been such a pleasure doing business with you,’ she said in her most professional voice. ‘Goodbye.’

Not once did she look back. It was time to move on. Ginny Weasley had a book to finish.

8. Chapter Eight

Keep It Unclean

Chapter Eight

‘So,’ Hermione said slowly, ‘when did all of this start arriving?’

Ginny looked around her kitchen wearily. ‘Oh, hours ago. Some ungodly hour like seven in the morning I think. All I really remember is being rudely awoken by a rather large owl practically pecking a hole through my bedroom window.’

‘Wow.’

‘Yes. I was quite impressed too.’

They lapsed into an awe filled silence, neither one quite sure of what to say. It wasn’t every day that a girl was faced with this kind of situation and Ginny was sure she should be savouring it while it lasted. Of course the intention was not lost on her. A fairy tale was being created on her behalf but she couldn’t help feeling more than a little uncomfortable.

‘And all of this was triggered by seeing you at the bar?’ Hermione eventually ventured. ‘It seems like a bit of an extreme reaction.’

‘I believe he’s trying to tell me something.’

‘He’s not exactly discreet or subtle is he?’ Hermione smiled slightly. ‘There are enough flowers in here to sink an entire fleet. In fact the smell is beginning to make me feel more than a little bit nauseous.’

Hermione had a point. The entire kitchen was crammed full of a colourful array of flowers, each one attractively clashing with the other. So numerous were the floral displays, the air was saturated with their sweet scents. It was a good job Ginny didn’t suffer from hay fever otherwise she would have had to leave the flat entirely. She had a sinking feeling that, now she’d filled one room, the flowers weren’t going to stop. Already the gifts were starting to become increasingly odd.

‘If he wants to waste money on buying me pointless gifts, than who am I to stop him?’ Ginny asked unconvincingly. ‘After all he is a full grown man with a mind of his own.’

‘Pointless? I thought that was exactly the opposite to all of this,’ Hermione gestured around her. ‘I’m afraid this stinks of having purpose and meaning - both of which are far from pointless.’

She nodded despondently. ‘Well it’s not going to achieve anything.’

Hermione released a gentle sigh. ‘Even you have to admit that this is all rather romantic. Men never bombard me with flowers and presents. The closest I’ve ever got is a cheap box of chocolates and a sloppy kiss behind the broom shed from Ron when we at school.’

‘Let’s face it, Hermione,’ Ginny raised her eyes to the ceiling, ‘Ron was never blessed with much imagination. That was probably his most successful overblown romantic gesture. Just be glad in the knowledge that it most likely went downhill from there.’

‘That’s a great comfort,’ she giggled.

‘Harry was always rubbish in that department too. He once bought me a stuffed cat.’

‘Why?’

‘Something about scaring away mice without being inhumane,’ Ginny frowned slightly at the memory. ‘I did try and explain that stuffing a dead cat was probably more offensive, but he didn’t seem to quite grasp the concept. Seemed to think it would act like a scarecrow. You wouldn’t think he had qualifications, would you? Needless to say it was completely useless and the least romantic thing I’ve ever been given.’

‘They do say that it’s the thought that counts,’ Hermione said in her most sage tone.

‘That’s the thing though,’ she stabbed her finger on the table top decisively, ‘I don’t think he put the thoughts he’s meant to put into all of this. He’s trying to prove a point, which only makes this more contrived than if it were for real.’

‘You don’t think he’s in love with you then?’

Ginny snorted with laughter. ‘I think I can safely say that love is the last thing on his mind.’

‘What makes you so sure? Yes, Malfoy is a bit of a shit but that doesn’t mean he’s incapable of human emotion,’ Hermione asked, a little unsure of the last part of her theory. ‘For all you know he could be madly in love with you and this is the only way he can express it.’

‘You’re forgetting that Malfoy is emotionally stunted. Plus he told me he didn’t love me and I know he’s a brutally honest person. He has absolutely no scruples as to telling you his opinion, the only question is whether or not he decides to be polite in his delivery of it.’

‘It could all be a ruse. A double bluff.’

‘No. It was the truth,’ she replied frankly, fiddling with a strand of hair. ‘I wouldn’t want him to love me anyway. That’s not how it works.’

‘Well explain to me then why he’s sending you all these extravagant things?’ Hermione said with a hint of frustration. ‘Because I’m very confused by the whole thing.’

‘Okay. I’ll start from the beginning…’

***

Having left the Malfoy residence, irritated and determined to do something rebellious, Ginny found herself wandering into Diagon Alley. The road was filled with aggravated mothers dragging their offspring behind them, trying to buy this and that without too many complications. People milled around chatting; the working day was over and a blanket of relief seemed to have settled over everyone. Ginny darted between the people unsure of which direction to take. Should she go home, drink some butter beer and settle down for a night of wallowing? Maybe drop by on Hermione to dissect the days events? Or should she go out and try out her new theories on many unsuspecting men?

It wasn’t that she was scared. Not in the least. The idea of approaching strange men and selling herself wasn’t making her heart shudder with fear. It wasn’t giving her sweaty palms. Nope.

Okay, she admitted to herself, so maybe she was more than a little terrified. In theory it seemed like the right direction to go in, but putting it into practise was another thing altogether. She knew exactly what would happen; at some point during the night her natural impulse for self-preservation would kick in and she’d be unable to follow through. Even though she had a goal in mind, she would stumble over words, flush bright pink and eventually excuse herself.

Slowly, but surely, Ginny managed to put herself off the idea. There was no need to put herself in that position just to prove a point. Instead she would go home, curl up with the dog and contemplate her manuscript.

However, when she was walking past ‘The Ugly Bug Bar’ something happened to change her mind. She had always held the belief that there was such a thing as fate guiding her through life. A consequence of this was that she also believed in signs. This particular sign read “Free Drinks Before Six!” in flashing green lights. Well, she couldn’t really turn down a free drink, could she?

As she walked in she was struck by the lack of people inside. ‘No wonder they’re giving it away,’ she mumbled to herself as she walked over to the bar.

Once there it didn’t take her long to locate a seat next to a hulk of a man with long dusty blonde hair and a very tight t-shirt. He was exactly the stereotype she needed. As she pulled herself up onto the bar stool, he glanced in her direction with interest; it wasn’t exactly busy and there were plenty of empty seats. She met his eyes and smiled broadly.

‘Buy me a drink?’ she asked in what she hoped was a seductive tone.

‘Erm…’ he mumbled. ‘Their free…’

‘Oh. Right…’

‘We could pretend though? I’ll order for you?’ he smiled softly.

‘That would be lovely,’ Ginny said biting her lip nervously. ‘Thank you. I’m Ginny, by the way.’

‘Johan.’

An hour passed with little to comment on; they discussed the weather, their dislike of onions and the way people are intolerant of others. All in all, it was going along swimmingly and Ginny could feel herself getting swept away by the potential of a new acquaintance. However, she had known something would go wrong - it was inevitable when things were going so well. She knew the moment she felt a presence behind her and saw a small frown appear on Johan’s face. And then the voice…

‘Weasley,’ Draco murmured slyly, placing a protective hand on her hip, ‘I’ve been looking all over for you.’

What followed was a horrific moment of silence. Ginny looked at Malfoy who in turn seemed to be giving Johan a look that could curdle milk. The shock was apparent from his face and she knew, just knew, that he was beginning to panic. Any second now he was going to hold his hands up, deny the fact that he’d had any interest in her and run away.

‘Oh right…’ Johan said, his face registering recognition of Malfoy. ‘I didn’t realise you…I mean, this seat was taken. Erm. It was nice meeting you. Both.’ He turned quickly and fled from the scene, his tail firmly between his legs.

‘What on earth did you do that for?’ Ginny asked as she pushed his hand off her.

‘He wasn’t worth the effort Weasley if he’s going to crumble so easily under competition.’

‘There is no competition.’

‘I know,’ he raised an eyebrow cheekily. ‘I would win hands down and he knew that.’

Ginny let out a small, slightly hysterical, shriek of irritation. ‘Of all the arrogance! Why do you insist on torturing me like this? I distinctly remember making it clear that I had no interest in continuing our…’ she floundered for a word, ‘relationship, but here you are. Following me around like some lost puppy. It’s pathetic.’

Malfoy smiled to himself and rested his elbows on the bar in front of him. ‘Be honest now. Don’t hold back.’

She narrowed her eyes. ‘Oh, don’t think I’m going to feel bad about this. It isn’t going to happen. Shall I tell you why? Because you’re stalking me!’

‘Not really. I just happened to be in the same place at the same time. A happy coincidence some would say,’ he said smoothly. ‘One which has given me the opportunity to speak with you about what happened earlier.’

‘I don’t think so, Malfoy,’ she jumped off her stool quickly to make an exit but was stopped by his hand tightly gripped around her wrist.

‘You’re going to listen to what I’ve come to say and then you may go,’ he said with discomforting quietness. ‘Okay?’

‘No. It’s not okay.’

‘Tough.’

Ginny stared at him incredulously. ‘Are you going to force me to listen to you?’

‘Needs must.’

She released a long sigh and looked down at his hand around her wrist. There was always the option of causing a scene, but was it really worth it? Ultimately it would probably be a waste of time. Anyway deep down she was curious as to what he had to say. It couldn’t hurt to hear him out, could it?

‘Fine,’ she said eventually. ‘Speak.’

He let go of her cautiously. ‘I realise that I hurt your pride earlier…’

Ginny snorted in a way she hoped conveyed that she couldn’t care less about what occurred. The last thing she wanted was for him to think he’d had any effect on her.

‘However, I stand by my decision to stop what was happening,’ he continued, ignoring her outburst. ‘I think it would have been wrong for us to shag. Against the grain and all that. This aside, I hate to admit that I have been more than a little troubled by what you said about switching places. It would appear that my good intentions have changed your own outlook on the whole romance, love thing.’

***

‘Hang on! Did you just say “shag”?!’ Hermione interrupted abruptly.

‘Yeah,’ Ginny said slowly. ‘There’s probably something I should have told you beforehand…’

‘Did you…?’ she asked with a horrified look. ‘You know…with Malfoy?’

‘Almost,’ Ginny conceded uncomfortably. ‘It was all very sudden.’

Hermione pursed her lips. ‘And this fact just happened to slip your mind?’

‘Do you want to hear the story, or not?’

‘Go on then,’ she rolled her eyes, ‘but I expect a full explanation when you’ve finished.’

***

It was beginning to unnerve her that he was being so formal; she had the impression that he’d been practising this speech for some time.

‘Then it occurred to me that I had made a promise to you.’

‘You did?’

‘Yes,’ he said slowly, obviously irritated at being interrupted again. ‘I promised never to agree with you.’

‘But that was just a joke…an off-hand comment. There was no meaning to it.’

‘I think it’s mutated into something else. You see the thought of my own opinion being identical with your own…well, frankly it both repulses and disturbs me.’

‘Be honest now,’ she mimicked irritably, flailing her hands about. ‘Don’t hold back.’

‘The thought that this frigid romantic should decide that she was wrong the whole time,’ he persevered, ‘that there was in fact no reason to hope for a Mr. Right, and that promiscuous sex was the best way to go - it doesn’t sit well with me. I feel somewhat guilty and, let’s be honest, it isn’t something I feel frequently.’

‘I’m not frigid!’ Ginny insisted. ‘I’m just not!’

‘You can’t blame me for being honest when you’re the one who told me not to hold back,’ he said with a sly smile. ‘Really, you must learn to control yourself. First trying to seduce me and now this. Shocking.’

Ginny’s eyes narrowed. ‘I did not try and seduce you!’

‘Oh really?’ he rested his head on one hand and regarded her disbelievingly. ‘You could have fooled me. All that pent up sexual frustration and angst. The cute little glare. Forcing yourself into my house. Practically ripping my shirt off at the first chance. Complaining when you didn’t have your wicked way. The evidence all seems pretty damning I’m afraid.’

‘I…’ she spluttered. ‘You know very well that my intention wasn’t anything of the sort! If anything you were trying to seduce me!’

‘How?’ Malfoy said with lazy amusement. ‘Explain exactly how I started it.’

‘Erm…you kissed me first!’ she said triumphantly, jabbing her finger down onto the surface of the bar. ‘And there was definitely some heavy groping on your part. Oh, and you were…well, you didn’t seem entirely unhappy to see me.’

‘Actually I think you’ll find that you kissed me first,’ he drawled. ‘Although the groping I’ll admit to.’

She blushed at the memory of her own recklessness. ‘You asked me to,’ she hissed quietly so no-one else would hear. ‘I distinctly remember.’

‘You didn’t have to comply, Weasley. I hate to break it to you but you did that yourself.’

Ginny crossed her arms and let out a huff of exasperation. She knew she’d lost this argument and it was killing her. The embarrassment was almost crippling. Her eyes focused on the drinks board and she pretended to be absorbed in it.

‘Anyway this is not the time for finger pointing, even though I’m right and you’re wrong,’ Malfoy said apparently not put off by her avoidance. ‘Do you know why I agreed to these meetings? You caught me in a bored moment. That’s one of the worst things about being who I am - nothing ever really excites me anymore. Sometimes it seems like I’ve done everything already. Then when you came in, begging for help, needy and generally desperate, I couldn’t help myself. Listening to some of the tripe you came out with was fascinating. And the best bit was that I could never get a handle on you! Were you playing the mourning widow, the prudish aunt or the moral nun? So I told you everything; every single sordid detail. I really wanted to shock you with my insight. Except it didn’t pan out how I planned. I realised that it wasn’t just a bored moment, it was a bored life. You meet a woman, maybe you have the best sex of your life, but then what? A house, mortgage and three kids? It’s not what I want.’ He stopped and seemed to be contemplating what to say next.

The moment he started speaking Ginny’s attention had been captured. She turned to look at him and frowned slightly. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be - she was supposed to be the one using him. It shouldn’t have been about providing entertainment for himself. Then again what had she thought? That he was doing it out of the goodness of his heart? Nope. She had been too wrapped up in her own problems to see that it wasn’t simply arrogance.

‘Then you try to seduce me,’ he laughed to himself coldly. ‘On one hand you would have been a nice little conquest - I would have loved rubbing it in Potter’s face - but on the other…’

‘Oh, please!’ she interrupted rolling her eyes. ‘I don’t believe that for one second. It’s far too cliché to think that you would shag me just because of a school grudge.’

He smiled slightly. ‘You really have that much faith in my being a decent person?’

‘You’re many things, Malfoy, but decent isn’t one of them. I know you’re far too scheming to do something so predictable. If you really cared you would have thought of something else. Something that would have hurt him far more than sexual jealousy.’

‘Like?’

‘Dirtying his good name in the press? A well-timed vicious rumour about his abilities in the bedroom? I don’t know!’ she giggled softly. ‘All I know is that you would have thought of something suitably underhand and devious. After all you have a reputation to uphold.’

Malfoy smirked. ‘True.’

‘I didn’t try and seduce you though,’ she said firmly.

‘Fine,’ he conceded. ‘We’ll say that it was a joint effort.’

‘That’s better,’ she agreed with a smile. Ginny was surprised by the ease in which their attitude towards one another had changed again. One minute they were at one another’s throats and now what? Friends?

‘Anyway, my point is that I don’t think you should be prostituting yourself to muscle-clad Scandinavian types in places of questionable reputation. It would change the whole balance of things. I would actually have to make an effort at monogamy!’

‘Hang on a second,’ she laughed. ‘Weren’t you the one that introduced me to this bar?’

‘Exactly. It’s where I pick up all my floosies,’ he nodded sagely.

They smiled at one another. Ginny felt slightly uneasy at their sudden amiability. She looked away and casually scanned the room. The last thing she wanted was for Malfoy to sense her hesitation. In some respects she would rather they were arguing. At least that way she would know where she stood. There was only one thing to do.

‘Have you finished your little speech then?’ she asked off-hand. ‘Because I’d quite like to find Johan and pick up where we left off.’

Take matters into her own hands.

Malfoy heaved a sigh. ‘You really are the most irritating wench, you realise that don’t you?’

‘Bugger off Malfoy. You’re not one to preach,’ she said harshly. ‘I’m a big girl now and I can look after myself. Whatever happened to you having no right to interfere? It doesn’t seem to be bothering you like it was earlier.’

All of a sudden his hand had snaked its way back round her wrist. The tips of his fingers dug into her flesh and she squirmed beneath his grip. ‘Let go,’ she said angrily.

‘I will make you change your mind,’ he said with a cold firmness. ‘I’m going to make you see that this isn’t what you want.’

‘How would you know what it is I want?’ she asked.

He released her hand with a devious little smile. ‘Because, Weasley, I’ve read your manuscript.’

***

‘…and then he swaggered off as if he owned the place. Bastard.’

Hermione leant forward in her chair, her lips parted in shock. ‘And that was all he said? That he’d read the book?’

Ginny nodded. ‘Then when I woke up this morning it was to find myself bombarded by romantic messages, flowers and so forth.’

‘Wow. How do you know it’s all from him? Couldn’t it be from Harry…’ Hermione asked curiously, then quickly added, ‘or someone else?’

‘Ah,’ Ginny rose from where she was perched on the kitchen counter. Padding across the kitchen, she picked up a box that was by the bread bin and passed it to her friend. ‘This came about an hour before you arrived. Before I had thought that it might be Harry reacting to what he saw happen between me and Malfoy, but this confirmed otherwise.’

She watched as Hermione slowly and cautiously turned the small box in her hands. It was a blue and incredibly plain - neither attractive nor ugly. ‘You would have thought he could have splashed out on a better package,’ Hermione murmured critically. ‘I wouldn’t be won over by this.’

‘You’re not reading enough into it,’ Ginny couldn’t help but smile. ‘It’s simple. It doesn’t need to be dramatic or flamboyant. Basically it’s symbolic of my desire for true love. Remember, it’s what’s on the inside that counts.’

‘Yeah…’ Hermione replied flatly. ‘How could I have missed that?’

‘Open it.’

Hermione slipped her nails under the lid and popped it off. Inside there was a bright silver watch nestled in cotton wool. She picked it up, flipped it over and examined the inscription on the back of the face. ‘Gosh, it’s a Xelor. That’s probably the most expensive brand of watch you can buy,’ she ran her fingers over the polished metal. ‘I know Harry isn’t into material things, but he could have afforded something like this.’

Ginny shook her head and plucked the watch from her friends hand. For a second she allowed herself to revel in the gorgeous design on the face and the comforting weight of it in her hand. ‘No. Malfoy is obsessed by time. He’s always looking at his wrist to see what time it is. This is his watch.’

‘Are you sure?’

She looked up from the watch with a smirk. ‘You haven’t read the note yet.’

Turning her attention back to the box, Hermione pulled a scrap of paper out of the mass of cotton wool. She cleared her throat and squinted to read the writing. ‘“How can I keep the time when every second away from you is an eternity?” Merlin, that’s cheesy.’

‘Precisely. Unadulterated cheese. It’s cheese that has its own range of sentimental greeting cards,’ she sighed wearily. ‘But that’s not the worst of it. I’m pretty sure it’s a play on a line from my book.’

‘Eurgh,’ her friend pulled a face. ‘What did you write?’

Ginny clicked her tongue. She hated telling people she knew about her book. It always made her feel slightly violated and judged. They would be unable to relate the Ginny before them to the Ginny who writes about grand romance. They would see past the words and know, just know, what it was that hid behind her cynical exterior. Just like Malfoy had.

‘Erm. It really has to be in context,’ she said eventually. ‘You wouldn’t understand.’

‘Tell me!’ Hermione demanded bossily. ‘You know I hate it when you avoid questions. It’s just plain rude.’

‘Alright,’ she cringed slightly. ‘Handsome is in the woods with Emerald, his arm’s been severed by a maniacal pink flamingo who’s been trained by an evil carpenter to attack anyone who enters the area. As he lies on a fallen tree trunk, bleeding to death, he says “How can I go on living when every moment on this earth with you prepares me for heaven itself.”’

‘That’s…sweet,’ Hermione reassured uncertainly. ‘But how on earth did a flamingo sever his arm?’

‘Razor-sharp beak,’ Ginny confessed guiltily. ‘His mate, Enrique, was being held captive by the carpenter. He had to do as he was told otherwise the other flamingo would be slaughtered.’

‘He’s a gay flamingo?’

‘Yes.’

‘I see. A gay flamingo, with a razor-sharp beak and anthropomorphic tendencies?’

‘Uh-huh.’

‘A homosexual…’

‘Yes! Get over it!’ Ginny interrupted loudly. ‘You’re missing the point. Malfoy is using my own book against me!’

They lapsed into silence, Ginny embarrassed by the way she’d made her plot sound and Hermione because she’d laugh otherwise. Unfortunately she was unable to control the building pressure in her throat. A giggle escaped her lips, but was quickly silenced. Ginny glared at her friend. ‘What was that?’

‘Nothing.’

‘You were laughing! At Francois the gay flamingo!’ Ginny pointed an accusing finger at Hermione. ‘How could you?!’

‘I’m sorry Ginny,’ she buried her head in her hands and shook with suppressed laugh. ‘A French gay flamingo!’

‘Merlin, you’re no bloody good at helping me, are you? I’m being stalked by a sex-crazed, misogynistic millionaire and all you can do is lay about, laughing your head off about my hard work! I’d like to see you try and write a book. Honestly, I’m shocked by this behaviour.’ Whilst speaking Ginny held back the urge to laugh at her own absurdity. She wouldn’t give Hermione the satisfaction.

‘I’m so sorry. Really I am. I don’t know what came over me…’ Hermione’s face emerged from her hands blotched and flushed from laughter. ‘Maybe it’s all these flowers going to my head.’

Ginny let out a snort of laughter. ‘Yeah right.’

Hermione smoothed her hair out with her hands and fanned her face. Shaking herself firmly, she straightened her back and placed a business-like look on her face. ‘I’ve got it under control now. Won’t happen again.’

Walking across the kitchen, Ginny drew her wand from the waistband of her pyjama bottoms and summoned up a couple of mugs of coffee. Picking up her own mug, she took a deep gulp and held it in her mouth, allowing the warmth to gently burn the roof of her mouth. She was tired and the stress of receiving gifts was beginning to grind on her nerves. It had always been one of those things that she had never been able to accept graciously; whenever people bought her things she was filled with a sense of guilt. Should she buy them something in return? Or simply say “thanks” and forget about it? The awful thing was that at some point she would have to dispose of the item, for one reason or another, but at the back of her head she would remember who/where/when and feel bad about it all.

‘I think you should just tell him that he’s wasting his time. You’re not interested in pursuing a relationship with him, so what’s the point of him lavishing you with all this attention,’ Hermione said suddenly, taking her own mug from the work top. ‘It’s just bad manners.’

Ginny shook her head gently. ‘It’s not about having a relationship. If anything it’s about the opposite.’

‘I still don’t understand…’

‘It’s like this,’ she said softly. ‘When you start reading a book you expect certain things to happen. For example the protagonist will always find what they’re looking for, whether it be buried treasure or love. If that didn’t occur we’d want a refund - it would be offensive to our own artistic and disillusioned nature. Happy endings aren’t always required but are preferred. Taking this into consideration, I think it’s fair to say that we can always see the hero coming a mile off. It seems so obvious to us!

‘Real life however leaves a lot to be desired in comparison. There aren’t any perfect sunsets, raging storms or ultimate love because these things are all creations of the mind. A sunset is ultimately a sunset, a storm is always a storm and love… It’s all about the degree to which you take something. For example, I loved Harry but he used to fold our clothes and put them in a neat pile before making love. Don’t you think that’s weird? But it didn’t matter. I loved him more than I loved myself because that’s how I wanted it to be. I’d read the books, seen the plays, heard the poetry. I took all the evidence in, examined it and reached the conclusion that it must be love. What I didn’t realise is that love cannot be restrained to well-meaning words, sincere looks and meaningful touches.

‘Malfoy knows I’m not interested in him. Likewise he holds no real interest in me. Unfortunately he’s like a dog with a bone and he insists on being difficult. He believes that sex, lust, desire, passion and attraction are paramount to every other emotion and that romance is contrived. By trying to prove that point of view he somehow won me over.’

‘I wonder how that happened,’ Hermione cut in sarcastically. ‘Oh, yes, I remember! You two almost had sex!’

‘Hush you,’ Ginny scolded affectionately, slapping her friend’s arm. ‘Nothing really happened. We just sort of grappled with one another for a couple of minutes.’

‘Grappled? Such a pleasant choice of words,’ Hermione remarked.

‘It’s been awhile. Sometimes a person, especially one who’s feeling particularly vulnerable, can be victim to their own innate sexual urges. I’d like to think that the fact it was Malfoy was irrelevant…he just happened to be in the right place, at the right time…’

‘In other words you were desperate.’

Ginny sighed. ‘I prefer the word…frisky.’

Hermione smiled slightly and took a slow sip from her mug. Ginny looked at her expectantly. Surely there was some sort of witty retort to come? Maybe a sound telling-off? After a couple of minutes it became clear that she wasn’t going to say anything else.

‘Anyway…’ Ginny began, trying to break the silence. ‘My point is that Malfoy wants me to want all of this. It’s his way of reminding the romantic part of me what I most desire.’

‘Well, it all seems rather bizarre to me!’ Hermione said finally. ‘This isn’t normal behaviour. Men don’t go to these extremes unless they want something - I guess to that extent I fully agree with his theory on romance. There must be an ulterior motive at play here! There must!’

Ginny pursed her lips and considered the point. To her it all seemed blatantly clear, like looking out from the top of a mountain and seeing everything spread before her. It seemed the only rational - no, irrational - explanation. Malfoy was simply trying to be clever in his approach to the challenge. He was determined to remind her of what it was she truly wanted; flowers, chocolates, sacrifices and noble courtship. To her mind’s eye she could see him planning everything out, reading over her book and picking out all the pieces that were her and discarding all the dressings. She felt exposed, naked and vulnerable. That book was an extension of her very soul and for it to be used in such a manner felt like a violation of the highest order.

It was just a good job it wasn’t meant to be real…wasn’t it?