What Has Become of the World?
By Harrynhermione4eva
Chapter 1: Bloody Fantastic
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I don't own Harry Potter, I just like to use Mrs. Rowling's characters.
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Warning: Detoxification scene and strip club scene ahead
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"Harry Potter. Potter, Harry." The voice was too loud, much too loud for the pounding headache that was attacking Harry's head at the moment. "Harry Potter."
"Geroff me," Harry muttered, swatting at the voice. Someone thumped him on the back as he tried to open his eyes. It was difficult seeing as the slightest twitch of his eyelid felt like sandpaper rubbing against his eyeballs.
"It's time for you to get up. We have to take your vitals," the female voice spoke again, very rough and demanding.
Harry's eyes shot open as the events from the night before began piecing together in his mind. The Bobby,* the firewhisky, wherever he was now. "Oh, fuck," Harry grumbled, running his hand over his face.
"That's enough, Mr. Potter. We need you to come to the nurse's station to take your vitals."
Harry groaned, but slid out of bed uncomfortably, his muscles still aching from all the alcohol he'd consumed the night before. He stumbled a bit as he followed the lady to what he assumed was the nurse's station.
"Hello, Mr. Potter," a model-like woman said to him cheerfully. "Let's see what that alcohol level is right now."
Harry grumbled but let the woman hold the breathalyzer up to him as he blew into it before hearing the click. The woman frowned and shook the machine a few times.
"That's funny, I'm getting a reading of zeros."
"That's what happened last night," another woman at the desk said. "He kept blowing zeros, but he kept failing all the tests the Bobby had put him up to."
Oh fuck, Harry thought.
"Well, let me try again," the nurse said with a look of scepticism etched in her face. Hesitantly, Harry blew into the machine once again, waited for the click, and let the nurse look at the reading. More zeros.
"There must be something wrong with this machine, she said. "We'll try again in five minutes. Would you like a vitamin B 12 pill?"
"What's that," Harry asked.
"It helps with the hangovers. Here, it won't hurt."
"No, thanks," Harry pushed the pill away from the woman. He didn't want to take any chances of muggle medicine screwing him up. That was, he assumed he was in some sort of a muggle clinic.
"All right. Just let me know if you need it," the woman said, fitting a blood pressure cuff around his left arm.
"Bloody fucking fantastic," Harry groaned. He couldn't believe he'd gotten so drunk that he'd driven, and then gotten caught by the Bobby. For all he knew, he could have killed someone! Maybe it was good they took him in before he'd had the chance to run anyone off the road…
"Mr. Potter?" A man appeared in the doorway. The nurse removed the cuff from around his arm and Harry stood up facing the man. "I'm Doctor Wheeler. Would you please follow me?"
Harry hesitated slightly, but finally tagged behind the man, and found himself in a clammy little office. Dr. Wheeler pulled out a chair for Harry, and then sat directly across, pulling out a file and clicking open a pen.
"Where am I?" Harry asked.
Dr. Wheeler cocked an eyebrow at Harry. "You mean they didn't tell you?"
"Well, I don't know," Harry said irritably. "I woke up this morning after a night of being completely pissed, and find myself here. What is this place?"
"Harry, you're in the London Detoxification Centre." Harry sighed. "I'm about to read to you your file and the officer's complaint of you from last night."
Harry sat back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. "I still don't think I belong here."
"Mr. Potter, that's not for you to decide."
"It bloody well is for me to decide!" Harry shouted. "I thought England was a democracy, or am I lost on the times and we've become a fucking dictatorship all of a sudden?"
"Mr. Potter's vehicle was spotted on the corner of Chelmsford and London Road at twenty-three hundred." Harry sat back again and tried to not listen to the man. "No suspicious activity until he attempted to turn left at the London Road circle, cutting off traffic. Officer Kingsley followed him a short way as a precaution and pulled him off to the side of the road after the suspect exceeded the speed limit by thirty kph and was swerving severely in his vehicle.
"When Officer Kingsley asked the suspect to step out of the vehicle, the suspect refused. It took a while for the suspect to finally comply with the authority, and Officer Kingsley administered a breathalyzer. The suspect blew zeros, but authority wasn't convinced of his sobriety.
"Officer Kingsley asked the suspect to walk in a straight line, which he failed. He also administered a one-legged test, and word association to test the suspect's verbal abilities. Assuming his breathalyzer machine was not working, Officer Kingsley told the suspect that he would be taking him to the London Detoxification Centre.
"The suspect went into a rage and threatened Officer Kingsley with a stick he'd had in his pocket. The suspect referred to it as his wand and said, `I'll jinx the balls off of you, you toad. One step closer and I'll shove my wand up your arse.'
"Officer Kingsley found the suspect to be much too intoxicated and delusional and found it in the suspect's best interest to bring him to the London Detoxification Centre."
"Bloody hell, I'm not crazy," Harry shouted after Dr. Wheeler had read off the police report.
Dr. Wheeler flipped some papers in the file and produced Harry's wand, which was wrapped in a plastic bag labelled, "Evidence."
"Oh, fuck, it's not what it-"
"Mr. Potter, I don't know where you got this, but your Bobby officer last night found it in your best interest that you be brought into this centre to not only have us look after your medical needs, but your psychological needs as well…"
"I'm not mental, for Merlin's sake!"
"Excuse me?"
"I-I said," Harry faltered. "That I'm not crazy!" Harry snatched his wand from the doctor and before he could say anything, Harry pointed his wand, still in its bag, at Dr. Wheeler. "Petrificus Totalus!"
Dr. Wheeler was attempting to stand up when his arms and legs snapped together. He fell sideways to the floor. Harry pulled the rest of the plastic off his wand and cast an obliviating charm on him, and then waved one onto the rest of the clinic, dissolving his files. Restoring the doctor from his petrified state, Harry apparated out of the clinic before Dr. Wheeler could stand up.
Arriving in his flat, Number 3 Humber Side Lane, Harry sighed and walked into his kitchen, taking a tumbler and a bottle of firewhisky from the cabinet.
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"I don't know why you get so flustered about him, Ginny," said the blonde at the vanity next to her. "He comes every night and pays you a lot of money."
"I don't want his charity, Lacey." Ginny Weasley said sourly as she slipped on her fancy knickers with the sexy fringe. "Besides, I've known him for years, and he's nothing but trouble."
"Then why are you putting on your lucky knickers?" Lacey smirked knowingly in her direction.
Ginny scoffed as she fixed the last strap on her stilettos. "Because I'm hoping if they're lucky enough, he won't show up." With a playful swing of the hips, Ginny walked out of the dressing room, and over to the curtains where she would start her number at any moment.
"Ginevra, come on!" Her boss, Mr. Styles, was motioning frantically for her to get on stage. "I haven't got all day and there are loads of perverted men waiting to watch you dance!"
Ginny didn't say anything, and instead walked out into the bright light. A few men began to cheer at her scantily clad form, and soon the entire pub was in an uproar of agreement with the way she looked.
It made her sick.
But at the same time, she felt powerful. It was incredible how she could use her body to bring men to their knees. When she was younger, she would go from boyfriend to boyfriend, looking for the right one, but really only wanting one…Harry Potter.
They'd tried dating again after the war ended, after Harry had killed Voldemort. He'd been too damaged by that time for anything to work out. Harry had become an alcoholic, and when Hermione was put in Azkaban for her role in leading the House Elf revolution, he'd gone to the deep end. Ginny had left him with a few parting words, and nowhere to go.
The night she and Harry had broken it off, she'd found herself in a muggle pub in London. A pretty woman kept looking over at her, and at first Ginny had though the woman had been interested in her. The woman had eventually made her way over to Ginny, telling her that she had the body most men would die for. Lacy had given Ginny her card, and ever since, Ginny found herself employed on the Upper St. Martin's Stringfellow's strip club.
Unfortunately, Draco Malfoy had discovered her new alias only months later and showed up every night she was there.
The lights dimmed out as a seductive glow filled the room, and the music began. It was times like this that she was able to forget everything: the men staring at her, Harry, Draco…
Bloody hell, he was here.
Draco Malfoy sat in the back, puffing away on a cigar as Ginny spun around the pole in a sensual dance. She glanced at him every so often, and couldn't help but think how proper he looked: cigar in hand, dressed up, sitting in one of the club's many fancy booths…
Another woman approached Ginny from behind, moulding their bodies together and running her hand down Ginny's breast. The men's jaws dropped, but Draco only smirked as he put out his cigar. No matter how many times she'd had to go through with this-having women touch her in such a private way-she'd never get used to it. It paid the flat, though.
Actually, he paid her flat hire.*
Spinning around the pole a few more times, flashing her scant knickers to the audience, and giving a fake smile and curtsy, she jumped off stage and went straight for a group of men, avoiding Draco completely.
She smiled politely as a forty-some year old man felt her up, and tensed when she saw Draco coming her way, a smirk playing on his face. She knew what he was up to; she could expect it every night.
"You know the drill, Red," he said to her matter-of-factly. Ginny sighed and jumped off the man's lap, facing Draco with her hands on her hips. "I've got you for the rest of the night."
Ginny nodded unwillingly, but still courteously, due to her strict conduct, as she followed Draco to one of the private rooms set towards the back of the club. Before they could make it to the private room where she knew there were cameras, she pushed him up against the wall in the hallway.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing, Draco?"
He only smirked at her. "Come home with me tonight?"
She scoffed. "Do you think my answer's going to change?"
"No, but its fun to play this game with you."
"I'm sure it's fun for you, you sick dim-witted…"
"Hey," Draco demanded, holding up a wad of fifty-pound notes. "I paid good money to get you for myself, now I want to see your cunt."
Ginny scoffed and let him go, following him back to the room as she forced tears to stay in her eyes. Sometimes she felt as though this life was worse than that of a geisha's. At least those women were honoured, whereas if Ginny had ever told her family what she did for a living, they were sure to disown her. Only Ron knew of her double-life…
Draco held the door open for her and she entered the room, opening and setting her purse on the table. She adjusted her garter to fit as low as it possibly could without falling off, and sat down in one of the chairs.
"No, I don't think so," Draco shook his head. "You get up there and spread your legs. I want to see you dripping wet by the time I leave."
"You know we can't touch," Ginny said. "It's against the rules."
"Sod the rules, you just…"
"I said, we can't touch." The last part she said through gritted teeth and a fake smile.
"So I can look?"
"Yes."
"And I can make you talk as dirty as I want."
Ginny sighed. "I might need some reassuring."
Draco put one of the fifty-pound notes in her little purse." All right then you slag, get up there and spread your legs for me." Ginny did as he said. "No, no. Pull your thong aside."
"That requires some effort." He put another note in her purse and she obliged, but only for a second.
"Your family really is dumb, Weasley," He said, putting two notes in her purse. "Hold it aside; I want to look at you." She did so, hands trembling like always. He got close to her and took a deep breath in. It took all of Ginny's energy not to throw up on him. He slipped a wad of notes in her garter, taking much too long as he ran his hand across her slender thigh.
He smirked when he felt her shiver. "You like it, Red. Just admit it. You want me."
"You wish," she hissed. She could see the faint outline of a bulge working its way into his pants.
"No, actually, I don't," Malfoy laughed wickedly. "You see, I don't fuck purebloods that betray the family line."
"So that means we're practically related, then, and you're just a big pervert," Ginny shot out, desperate to get him out of the room.
"I've done a bit of research, Weasley, and we're no more related than Potty is to Voldemort." His face was close to hers, and she held back the urge to spit in his face. "You're just lucky I haven't told anyone about you're little night time gig."
All the colour drained from her face. "If you dare…"
"Why would I tell anyone when I can have the fun of coming here and torturing you myself?" Ginny was seething, but there was nothing she could do. This was her job, and technically, he was a paying customer. Draco fucking Malfoy, her paying customer. She shivered violently at the thought. She knew it was the wrong thing to do when a smirk came over his face again. "You're getting hot, aren't you, Weasley? Perhaps you should take off that little top you call a coverings."
"I paid a lot for this thing."
"Well here's the money to buy a new one," he said slipping another large wad of notes into her garter. "Now strip."
Although she'd done this hundreds of times for him, it always seemed to get worse. She unclipped the sparkly bra from behind and let it drop at her ankles. Her stomach turned queasy when his pants twitched. Against her will, her nipples were hard as diamonds.
"Come to my flat, Red," Draco said breathlessly. "I know you want to."
"I can't believe you're begging me to," she said, turning around and bending over. She knew this would tease him beyond belief, and the only satisfaction she got out of it was to know he would go home with a very uncomfortable problem in his pants.
He threw the rest of his money onto the table. "Take off your knickers, your garter and those ridiculous-looking shoes. I want to see you." She stood up and removed her garter, putting the money on the table next to her purse. Bending over she pulled down her thong, revealing her most intimate spot to him. Sitting on the floor with her legs wide open, she slowly removed one of her stilettos, and then the other.
Draco was breathing heavily. "Is there a rule against jacking my John Thomas in here?"
Ginny scoffed in disgust as she stood up. "Um, yes, there is. You can't." Draco's eyes widened as he took in the form in front of her, standing free of clothing, and of her mask. Suddenly he stood up, collecting his coat and heading out the door, slamming it behind him.
Slowly, Ginny began to redress, and then moved to the table where all her money was sitting…all of his money. She began to fold it neatly to be stowed away in her purse, when an overwhelming feeling came over her, and she sat at the table, head in her hands, and bawled.
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So, what'd you think? I know, a lot different, and I was trying to model the strip club scene after what I saw in the movie Closer. Hopefully I did justice…
Thanks to Rylee! You're amazing!
British slang:
*Bobby=Police
*Hire=Rent
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