A/N- Ten bonus points to whoever finds the Austen Powers quote that I shamelessly stole. And I already know that those points will not be awarded to Heather, who is a loser and has never watched any Austen Powers movie. Everyone point and laugh at her.

Unconventional Commitments

Chapter Two

Shallowness Is a Virtue

Let me begin by saying that I am not superficial by any means. None whatsoever…

Now, let me tell you that Dean has a really nice house. Like jaw-dropping, oh-my-good-lord nice. Not that this influences me in any way, because, as stated, I am not swayed by something like material possessions.

Just as I am not swayed by the fact that he has excellent taste in art, and puts that to good use. Nor by his furniture, that is authentic John Widdicomb. Nope…not at all.

I feel a sigh coming on, if I married Dean, I could live here.

Oh, fine, so I am a superficial little witch. While his house is impeccable though, I would not actually marry him. It'll take a lot more than John Widdicomb to induce me into matrimony. Throw in a Picasso, though…well, now that is a different story entirely. Kidding, kidding…perhaps.

"Would you care for a drink, Ginny?"

My gaze follows Dean's voice to find that he has a full-stocked bar. Damn and I thought that I had alcoholic tendencies. I open my mouth to accept, but remember what getting trashed with a member of the opposite sex got me the last time. "No thank you."

He shrugs and makes a move towards a sofa that I've been practically salivating to simply touch. I hurriedly follow and wish that I had a camera or something to commemorate the event of sitting on this coveted furniture.

"So, Ginny…what have you been doing?"

"Uh, you know, not much. I work at Fred and George's shop—"

Dean cringed, "Oh. So they're still alive then?"

Okay, so maybe I don't like Fred and George so much at the moment…but what a tacky thing to say? Fine, so they made his life Hell for a few months—but to wish death on them? Harsh. "Yeah, seems that way," I answer flippantly. "But what I do is not all that interesting; tell me what you do to pay for all of this."

He smiles and leans back. "Actually I sit around all day."

"And?"

"And that's it. I didn't do anything to get all of this besides be born. I had an extremely wealthy uncle…he died, had no family, save my mother—who had since passed on—so he gave all of it to me. This was his house, my clothes were bought with his money…Hell, I didn't even furnish the place."

"So you didn't decorate this then?"

"No, I didn't."

Okay, so it is his dead uncle that I would nearly marry then. Wait…that didn't sound right.

He tips his glass back and swallows. "In a lot of ways it really isn't that great though; I have no real reason to work. I had a job, but I got so sick of everyone constantly asking why on Earth I would work if I didn't have to. So all I do is live here alone, growing increasingly bored with each passing second."

"Well, if you get married, then at least you won't be alone anymore."

Dean lets out a bitter laugh. "Yeah, instead I will be here with someone whom I'm not entirely sure I even really like, without any possible escape. I won't be able to leave for a few hours each day to go to the office…I won't be able to do anything without her."

"Who is she, anyway?"

"Lavender Brown."

Lavender…I really cannot say that I blame him for dreading spending a lifetime with her. He dated her before me, and obviously got back with her after. It isn't that I dislike her, but…all right, so I do dislike her. She is just such a…girl. You know the type: whiny, fashion obsessed, and boy crazed. I may be superficial, but at least not clothes-wise. That is such a stereotypical thing for any female to like; from the cradle, girls are taught to have a passion for clothes. Why, just look at baby clothes, all the cutest outfits and robes are made for little girls, boys get standard issue.

Therefore, I refuse to fall into the traps and expectations of society. I enjoy décor and art, but fashion…not so much. Stick that in your pipe and smoke it.

"So…when did you get back with Lavender?"

"Hell if I know." He appears pensive for a moment. "I think that I would like to get pissed."

"Well, don't allow my presence to stop you. I can leave if you'd like."

"No, stay. Would you care to join me? I do hate to drink alone, because it makes you less of an alcoholic if you drink socially. Or something like that."

"I probably shouldn't. The last time I got trashed I woke up with…" I catch myself before I launch into an unpleasant story, "a hangover."

Dean laughs, "A hangover as well as an unwanted guest, right?"

"How dare you suggest such a thing as if I am some common slag?" I sigh and relent, "How did you guess?"

"How do you think I ended back with Lavender? C'mon, Ginny, not like we don't have enough embarrassing memories of each other, you might as well tell me."

"Fine. Harry."

"Potter? No fucking way."

"Yes, well the third word you so articulately stated would be the opportune one…And why is it so hard to believe?"

"As tightly as Potter held on to his morals and whatnot, I just never pictured him as the type."

"And you picture me as that type?"

"Er…no?"

Why does everyone think I am a complete whore? This is an injustice, I tell you…

"I think that I need to go, Dean."

"I'm sorry, Ginny. I'm just being an arse, feel free to hit me."

I shrug and smack his arm.

"Ouch! I didn't mean that literally."

"Then you shouldn't have said it."

"Fair enough. So are you and Potter together then?"

"I don't know. It's like, a part of me wants to be with Harry, you know? However, the more sensible part of me knows that if I officially become his girlfriend, then I'll never be able to leave. The thought of being with Harry, or anyone, for the rest of my life terrifies me…and when I look in his eyes I see forever." When I look in his eyes I see forever? I repeat silently back to myself. How corny can I get? If I start randomly quoting sonnets I do hope someone puts me out of my misery.

I suddenly become very aware of the fact that Dean is inches from my face. He leans down and brushes his lips against my own. I unconsciously place my hand on the back of his head and pull him in closer to me to deepen the kiss.

He pushes me back against the sofa and places the weight of his body against my own. I am not nearly naïve enough to not know where this is leading…and for once, I don't want it to go there. A handsome, successful, likable, compatible male is kissing me, and I feel nothing. No fireworks, no stars, no anything.

All I find myself thinking of is Harry. Shit.

I forcefully push Dean off me, so that I can stand. "I-I have to go. I'm sorry, Dean."

"No, I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me, Ginny. Please, don't leave, I promise I'll be good."

"No, it isn't that. I just need to leave. It isn't you, I promise. It's me and my thing…I have to go."

"All right, if you really want to leave, I won't keep you."

I lean down and give him a quick peck on the cheek. "Goodbye, Dean. And, a word of advice, don't marry Lavender…trust me, you deserve better."

He laughs lightly and kisses my cheek in return. "I'll keep that in mind."

I walk out the front door and prepare to apparate…but to where? My apartment did not sound at all appealing and neither did the Burrow. In fact, the only place that I desired to go was to Harry's…a strong urge to see him overcame me, and before weighing out the consequences, I had already popped over to his living room, once more, without warning.

When I arrive, I notice that Harry is already in his living room, which saves me the awkward trouble of nosing around his house attempting to find him.

He looks up at me, obviously startled by my sudden appearance. "Ginny! I had no idea that you were planning on coming by at…three in the morning."

I feel a blush rise to my cheeks; I had forgotten that it was the middle of the night. "Oh, God, I'm sorry. I didn't realize that it was so late…I'll just go then."

"No, I mean, it isn't as though I was asleep or anything. I just wasn't expecting you. Please, have a seat."

"Thanks. I'm sorry; again, I am just the biggest ditz anymore."

"No problem." We sit in silence for a few moments before he moves from his spot on his chair, to sit next to me. "Is something wrong, Ginny? I mean, not that I am not more than happy to have you…at three in the morning…but I can't think of why you would be here if something wasn't the matter."

"Maybe I just wanted to see you," I say indignantly.

He gives me a pointed look. "At three A.M.?"

"Fine. I…I went to a bar tonight—"

"You're drunk?"

"No, you imbecile, do I look drunk? Anyway, I went to a bar and ran into Dean—"

"Thomas?"

"Yes. Will you let me finish?"

"Sorry, go on."

"So I ran into Dean, and I went back to his house with him to talk. And…he kissed me."

Harry looks solemn. "I see. So…you and Dean are…together?"

"No. You see, he kissed me, and the only thing I could think about…was you."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

He smiles at me, "So what does this mean?"

"I don't know. I just didn't want to stay at Dean's any longer, and the only place that I could think to come to was here."

"I see. Do you want to stay with me tonight then?"

I should have known that underneath his innocent exterior Harry was just like every other male. "You are not getting laid tonight, Potter."

His eyes widen, "I didn't mean it that way. I just meant that you could sleep here if you wanted to…"

"Oh." Once again, I feel my face growing hot in his presence. Now that I have established myself as some sort of pervert in Harry's mind, my evening is truly complete. "If you don't mind," I finally say, "that would be nice."

"Of course, you can stay in one of the guest rooms."

I nod and follow him up the stairs and into a room that is very…blue. I suppress the urge to shudder as he smiles and leaves me to 'do whatever it is that I need to do'.

I dig through the drawers and pull out a t-shirt and pair of shorts that obviously belong to Harry, and put them on to sleep in. I pop back into the living room to say goodnight to Harry and make my way to the bed, which is, blissfully, far more comfortable than its horrid blue coloring would suggest.

I know that I will finally gain a good night's sleep, without—please, God—nightmares of marriage and children. I feel confidant that I will wake with a new outlook on life, and will be prepared (for the first time ever) to face a day of work with the twins.

Unfortunately for me, though, things never go that simply; and the fact that I wake up a few hours later in Harry Potter's arms is going to take me quite a while to explain.

A/N- Oh, the whole part in the beginning of the chapter about furniture and what not…I know zip about things of that nature. I was told that John Widdicomb is an expensive old brand of furnishing and decorating. If it turns out that this brand actually sucks, well just pretend that it doesn't, lol, because I'm too lazy to find out for myself.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed last chapter, and I do apologize for taking a month to update…shame on me. I am going to try to finish this up before school starts, so hopefully I'll be updating again soon. Review please! And don't forget to point out the Austen Powers quote if you found it.