Chapter 2
This was the worst! Draco thought in disdain as he eyeballed the clothing items in his dressing room—some of which Draco recognized: suit jackets, trousers, undershirts, and dress shoes. Even the assortment of accessories was discernable. The majority, however, had Draco’s stomach plummeting to the ground, and his throat felt as if it was clogged with a cotton cloth.
All these outfits looked too small for his figure, which was definitely on purpose. He thought hopelessly. There were utterly transparent shirts, pants that were far too short, skirts, dresses, and multiple things made of mesh, but he wasn’t sure where those were supposed to go on his body. There were holes in places there shouldn’t be holes, and what was the most shocking was that nothing was black. Pansy had designed every color under the sun, but black was not here despite her edgy, punk style. Draco didn’t look good in color.
He couldn’t dwell on it for too long because a large, dark-skinned woman rushed him to do makeup before the photographer and Pansy arrived.
“Ow!” Draco cried when he felt a prick in his eye, “What did you do?!”
The woman, Cordelia, quickly tapped the corner of his watery eyes with a tissue. “Sorry, love. I should’ve warned you I was going in with eyeliner.”
“Eyeliner?! What for?!” He gaped as she gently smudged a charcoal pencil along his waterline.
“It’ll make your eyes pop on film. Don’t fret so much.”
“I thought it would be some face powder, and that’s it!” He whined, “All this extra garbage is beyond my expectations!” Draco paled and retracted away from the bristled applicator wand in uncomfortable fear. “What is that?!”
Cordelia sighed, annoyed, “Pansy warned me that you would be high maintenance.”
Draco felt his face warm up to his ears and fumed, “She said what?!”
A door slammed behind them, and the two turned to the 5’1 (in heels) raven-haired bombshell in the doorway. “You’re high maintenance, darling. Surely, that is not surprising.”
The blonde scoffed as the derisive tapping of heels approached him. “I am doing this as a favor to you. Don’t forget that.”
Pansy pursed her crimson lips, “I haven’t.” She grabbed his chin, black stiletto nails pinching his sensitive skin, and forced him to face the mirror, “But you also promised me you wouldn’t be a prick. I even gave you Cordelia! She’s my best makeup artist!”
Cordelia smiled pleasantly, but Draco couldn’t help but gag immaturly, not unlike a petulant child. “Yes, she almost stabbed my eye out, Pansy!”
“Oh, hush.” Pansy flicked him in the nose and sneered when he whimpered out a disgruntled ‘ouch.’ “How much longer until we can get him in some outfits?”
Cordelia’s perfectly sculpted eyebrows rose in thought, “Not too long, I suppose.” A cruel, teasing smile spread like a plague on her face, “So long as he can stop bitching and moaning!”
Pansy laughed evilly, and Draco’s mouth was agape for the flies. How dare she insult him so casually! You could tell that they worked for the Mistress of Disceit.
“Honestly,” Cordelia continued when their laughter died, “the first look is simple and monochromatic so that the color transition is seamless.” They were going to put colors on his face?! “A little more blush and eyeshadow, and he should be ready.”
“Excellent.” Pansy declared. She turned to Draco and fixed a clip holding his blonde bangs back, “You look good, dear. I knew you wouldn’t need much more than a touch-up.”
He rolled his eyes, “Whatever. Flattery will get you nowhere. I’ve seen those outfits.” Pansy started to walk away, so Draco turned over his shoulder to yell at her pompous ass. “You’re not going to fit me in…those scraps!”
“Blah blah blah, you signed the contract, Dray. If the designs were an issue, you should have read between the lines.” She peeked at her bedazzled watch, “The bodyguards should be here at six. I’m certain I don’t have to tell you to behave around them.”
She gave him a look, and he resigned and nodded. Bodyguards were their codeword for Aurors, and the Aurors would nit-pick every little, miniscule thing they did. While Pansy went to manage other aspects of the shoot, Cordelia continued to put pencils and brushes on Draco’s face.
“You’re very pale,” she had commented, “It suits you, but I’m just adding a little more definition so that your face isn’t washed out on camera.” Whatever that meant.
Once Draco was officially painted (it didn’t look like a lot, but it felt like a ton of bricks on his face), he and another woman, Amy, searched through the outfits Pansy had picked out.
“My job is to set the mood Miss Pansy aims for.” Amy was a fiery redhead who was not dissimilar to a certain Weaslette, Draco thought mindlessly.
“What mood is that?” He asked with a tint of nervousness. He could imagine it wasn’t a very PG mood based on the skin-tight items and their many holes.
There was the sound of the heavy steel door scraping across the concrete floor when Amy snatched a mesh, translucent turtleneck with little crystals sewn in. Draco had the sense of mind to be reminded of a starry night. She held it to his chest, which was a reach for the small girl. “It’s the Spring collection, so it’s bright, sexy, and fun. Androgynous fashion is the new trend so anybody can wear the entire collection.” He hummed in recognition. That explained the heels and skirts. “In the words of Miss Pansy, “If you’re not getting fucked in these fits, I haven’t done my job well.”
“Charming.” Amy grabbed a mint green, flowy skirt with a leg slit so deep Draco was sure he’d be arrested for public indecency just by imagining himself in it.
“That’s what Miss Pansy does best.” Amy tossed the shirt and the skirt at Draco, who caught them without flinching, as she grabbed a pair of stringy what the blonde could only call stripper heels. Pansy was testing their friendship right now. “Yes, I think this will do.”
“It will?” He choked.
She nodded, “Yes. What do you think, Miss Pansy?” Amy was talking around Draco’s arm, so he rotated to see his midget-of-a-bad-bitch-bestie next to a group of Aurors, one of which was disgustingly familiar. Despite his obvious horror, Pansy didn’t give him time to question it.
Pansy put her thumb and forefinger to her chin, “Hm. The skirt is too much.” Thank Merlin. “Do the navy trousers that flare out at the bottom?” She grabbed another heel, “These shoes,” she smiled devilishly when she pulled out a clothing item that made Draco flush bright pink. “Yes, this will look stunning on you, Dray!”
“Absolutely not!” The blonde detested, eyeing the brunette in the corner. At this point, he didn’t even care that one of the Aurors was an old classmate or that his hair was still as unruly and curly as it had been four years ago. He never noticed how green his eyes were, but he looked like he had the same wire glasses frames as he did when they were twelve, which fit his face better. And, of course, he still had that damned scar.
It was just his luck that Harry fucking Potter was one of the Aurors shadowing them today during, no doubt, the most embarrassing situation in his life.
He pointedly ignored the snicker coming from that direction, and Pansy pouted. “Why? Don’t tell me you draw the line at the corset?”
Draco didn’t dare look Harry Potter’s way. “You’re doing this on purpose! I know it!”
“Of course I am.” She plastered on a coy smile, “It’s my fashion line. Now, get into this and be on set in ten.”
“But–”
“Not another word, Draco Lucius Malfoy.” He gaped at her audacity to whip out his full birth name, and she winked as she turned on her heel. “Potter, you can guard our little prince.”
“What?!” The blonde flipped in disbelief to the brunette, who nodded professionally.
“No problem, Miss Parkinson.”
Her red lips curled into a smile, and she tapped the man’s shoulder. “It’s Pansy to you, dear.” She directed her gaze to the dumbfounded blonde, “See you in a few!” Then she was on her way with the other Aurors out the door, which slammed with a heavy bang.
Silence hung in the air before Amy cleared her throat. “Alright, Draco, was it? Let’s get you in the first set.”
Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter just stared at each other. “Right.” He responded while not breaking eye contact. “Does he have to be here?”
Potter answered before Amy could, “Yes, I do. It’s for your safety.” What he meant was the safety of others.
Damn it all to Hell.
“Fine. Let’s get this shoot over with.”