Title: The Lush Life
Authors: Vesica & Mynuet
Rating: R (eventually) (unless smut just needs to be written for it, or we want to boost the review count or whatever)

Authors’ Notes: Once upon a time there was a site called LiveJournal, where people with too much time on their hands got together and chatted back and forth in each other’s comments. Then came a meme – THE meme – to get 1000 comments to an entry. Mynuet started the fun and, trying to be helpful, Vesica posted the first few sentences of a possible story.

And what sentences they were – not many things that start with Narcissa Malfoy flashing people can be said to be innocent – but, truly, this was started innocently. It was nothing more than a way to while away an afternoon, but the Fic Tag grew and grew – relocating to another journal (thanks, GilaThief). It became clear somewhere just shy of 7,000 words that they were on to something and that maybe – say, a plan? – would be helpful. And thus, it was edited and polished and presented to you all here. Oh, and in case you cared – this ridiculously melodramatic narrative intro was penned by Vesica, sometimes called EmpressVesica, sometimes called “that crazy drama queen”. But not by anyone who wants to live a long and healthy life. --Myn

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Chapter One – Narcissa’s Assets

Ginny Weasley had somehow ended up working for Narcissa Malfoy, and she was certain that any number of Weasley ancestors were rolling in their graves. She'd left Hogwarts intending to spend a year swanning around the continent, much as Ron had gotten to, only to discover that her parents had no intentions of financing any such thing.

A heated argument between mother and daughter had made it quite clear that as far as Molly Weasley was concerned, Ginny's future entailed staying at the Burrow until a suitable young man from a nice family asked for her hand in marriage. Despite her father's nervous entreaties and her mother's pointed silences and shrill predictions of a dire future, Ginny had packed every possession that had been a gift or paid for with her own money - Molly had declared that she didn't get to take anything her parents had paid for - and stormed out of the Burrow. Her father had sent the rest of her clothes and some money to her on the sly, but it had been a tenuous existence for the few weeks before starting at Lush.

Weasley pride be damned, she had needed the money, and then hard work and dedication, along with an appreciable lack of social life, had let her climb her way up the ladder. She was now the Executive Assistant to Narcissa Malfoy, CEO of Lush, the premier source for cosmetics and glamour charms for the British witch. Ginny was the envy of any number of girls who saw her job's perks - the free product, the travel to exotic locales, the fashionable clothes, and of course the parties and press conferences she had to attend - and were so blinded by the glitter of it that they failed to see that she actually worked like a house elf, and that the parties and press conferences were an exercise in just how bored it was possible to get, and whether one really could fall asleep standing up and with eyes open. She was working on that skill right now, lurking behind a pillar as she waited for the proceedings to start.

Another day, another press conference to stand at the back of…Gee, bet all my classmates are just green with envy.

Looking up, she saw a familiar figure dramatically posed at the top of the grand staircase, ready to make her entrance. Narcissa was cool, poised, perfectly beautiful and the epitome of glamour and sophistication, just as she was every day.

But it was not to be “just another day”.

After all, it wasn't every day that she got to see the head of an internationally renowned cosmetic charms firm, and her boss to boot, tumble down a flight of stairs, managing to flash over forty members of the international media AND the Minister of Magic. Ginny could almost see her future career prospects tumbling down behind the woman.

It was bad enough to take a tumble in front of the press. Worse was having it happen at one of the most important press conferences of the year, when the yearly earnings were announced and buzz started about new product lines for the coming year. But definitely, most unfortunate of all, Narcissa Malfoy had apparently forgotten her underwear that morning.

Shoving her clipboard and stacks of papers into the arms of the nearest flunky, Ginny rushed to help her boss. She threw herself between Narcissa and the hordes of press but they had already smelled blood in the water, the magical flashes flaring, brilliantly illuminating the wide expanse of exposed ivory skin.

Ginny tried to think of something, anything she could do that would serve as a distraction. There was no way that Narcissa wouldn't be furious, and Ginny was Innocent Bystander #1 in all instances of Narcissa's fury.

No one had mentioned playing Innocent Bystander when she'd gotten her job description. They'd talked about the trips around the world, the glitzy parties and power lunches, and there'd been mention of hard work, but she was sure she would have remembered if they'd talked at all about throwing herself in front of Narcissa's temper in order to keep it away from the public, or about getting into an ongoing cat and mouse game with her boss's offspring.

Now was not the time to think of said offspring, though, because the last thing she could afford was to be distracted. She needed to be clever. She needed to divert attention. She needed to stop stepping on the front of her dress because she was starting to hear an ominous ripping sound...

Too late. The inner sheath of the dress, the layer which was the only thing keeping the diaphanous concoction from being completely see-through, was impaled the heel of her shoe. Ever the faithful employee, she managed to yank Narcissa's robe down to cover her bare arse but perhaps yanked a little too vigorously. The inner lining of Ginny's dress separated from the rest of the garment, an occurrence which should have taken complex surgery and a hacksaw with as much as the damned thing had cost. In mere seconds, she had gone from Ginny Weasley, the valued ‘strong under pressure’ employee, to Ginny Weasley, that girl with the lacy snitch knickers.

She focused on getting Narcissa back on her feet, resolutely ignoring the sudden draft and the sound of camera shutters clicking behind her. She could do this. This situation was totally salvageable if only…

As if showing her arse to rabid reporters with cameras wasn’t enough, in her efforts to help Narcissa, her dress lining had managed to wrap itself around her ankles. She tried to tug one foot free of the pooled material but she had never been great at standing on one foot and certainly not while trying to help someone else sit up. It proved to be too much and one of her frantic kicks at the noose around one heel sent her sprawling atop her boss.

The room went silent again – no one moving, no one even daring to breathe for fear of laughing. But no one made a move to help either. And there they lay, the most powerful and - until five minutes ago, dignified - woman in the wizarding world, pinned down by her freckled and quickly reddening assistant.

"You know, Weasel, if you can't afford proper clothing, perhaps you shouldn't offer to lend my mother your shoes when she's running late." The smooth, hated voice cut through the din and made Ginny see red... Or maybe that was her hair in her eyes.

She glared at the hand being offered to her before accepting Draco's help in getting to her feet. He hauled her to her feet before helping his mother with, she noted sourly, much more delicacy. Only once Narcissa was steady, her dress smoothed down and open robes carefully arranged, did he turn back to her. Handing her the overcoat he had casually draped over one arm, he turned to address the room.

"I am sure you are all aware of the terrible wizard's flu going around. It makes one so dizzy. Obviously, Lush would like to reschedule our press conference for tomorrow morning to allow our beloved and quite visionary leader adequate time to recover and meet with you when she is feeling her best.

"Now, if you would kindly enter the meeting room to your right, I believe our lawyers would like a word with you before you depart.”

Draco’s eyes narrowed in displeasure at the lone figure tugging frantically at the main doors, camera dangling round his neck. “Tsk, tsk Mr. Creevey. I believe you will find all other doors have been charmed shut. Thank you in advance for your cooperation and understanding in this matter."

The reporters grumbled loudly but began gathering their things.

Ginny’s pulse was just starting to return to normal when a glacial voice sent it into panicked racing again. "Thank you, Draco. It's nice to know I have someone I can depend on."

Her heart sank to somewhere around the level of her knees as Narcissa kicked off the borrowed heels and ascended the grand staircase barefoot, still looking every inch the queen of her domain. Draco set about herding the last of the press into the auditorium. Giving his mother's retreating form a glance, he sneered at Ginny.

"You'd better pick that trash up and get up there before she has to call for you. You know how she hates having to call for assistants as if they were errant poodles." He grinned and shut the doors firmly behind him.

Much as she hated to seem obedient to Draco's will in any way, Ginny knew good sense when she heard it. Snatching up the betraying shoes, she scurried up the staircase and straight down the corridor to Narcissa's palatial office.


~ End Chapter One~

Authors’ Notes: Yes, yes. We aren’t dead – nor is this fic. Hopefully there won’t be such a delay between updates again…but life is full of surprises. Also, we plan to continue responding to reviews because that’s almost as fun as writing this! ~Ves

Authors’ Notes 2: 11/22/2005 – Minor Continuity glitch fixed.

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Chapter Two -- No Such Thing as Bad Publicity

It wasn’t a long walk to the executive offices of Lush, just up the stairs and down a hallway. But it was long enough for Ginny’s entire career to flash before her eyes.

She saw herself, three years ago, sending out application after application, for positions in Ministry, private potions firms, even a racing broom factory. There had been only dead silence in return. She had managed to get an interview with one firm, but was horrified to learn that they specialized in old-fashioned pest control. She was desperate but not enough to sign up for a thrilling career exterminating doxies and the like.

After two months of job hunting, she was ready to take anything, any job at all, just to get out of the Burrow once in a while. Her mother was keeping her busy polishing her "charms". If only they were charms as Ginny knew them. Molly’s version mostly involved Ginny doing quite a bit of cooking and cleaning and even learning mending, so that she could be a good little housewitch someday. If she had to dust one more knickknack, of which the Burrow boasted hundreds, she was going to scream.

She had finally snapped and moved out of the Burrow, since every application sent out produced at least two days of scowling disapproval from her mother. After three weeks on her own and no word from any of the companies she’d contacted, she was despairing of ever finding something. Then, like an oasis appearing in the desert, she had seen Lush’s ad.

"Seeking interns for the world’s most acclaimed cosmetic and beauty charms firm. Positions open in marketing, product development, and public relations. We are looking for bright young witches and wizards with a hunger to move ahead and an eye for trends. Please send school transcripts and two recommendations by owl to the Director of Public Relations/Employee Resources."

She had heard of Lush - barely. Not caring much for all the primping and fussing some witches went for, she didn’t have much use for cosmetics, particularly not those as pricey as Lush’s offerings. Still, she needed a job -- preferably yesterday.

So, she had carefully prepared her paperwork and sent it along. Within the week, she received an owl inviting her for an interview. She had scared the poor owl half to death with the screech she had let out when she reached the name signed to the bottom of the letter in green ink.

"Narcissa Malfoy? Work for a MALFOY?? No way!! No. Not a chance."

But the more she tried to talk herself out of it, the more a little voice reminded her just how badly she needed a job. With a sigh, she had gone to her closet and started the hunt for a smart and not too out-of-date outfit to wear.

Next thing she had known, she was tucked away in a sea of cubicles in a back corner of the office shared by all the interns. She had been assigned to marketing and was surprised to find herself enjoying the process of creating and testing ad campaigns.


Sadly, she rarely got to do this. The interns’ days were mostly filled with reading the most inane publications produced in the wizarding world, filled with articles like "The Best Hairstyling Charms Ever!", "Robes Guaranteed to Have Him Asking for Second Date", and "Nine Naughty Spells to Keep Him Coming Back for More". They were "taking the pulse of current trends" and filling out reams of forms about the number of times certain items were mentioned. Ginny did notice, with a hint of pride, that the trends seemed to lag behind Lush’s seasonal offerings by about three weeks. Interesting, but not interesting enough to make reading the mind-numbing pap day in and day out bearable.

Just when she was ready to scribble her resignation on her cube wall with a tube of Lush Lips in "Ravishing Rose", the season’s hottest color, she was summoned to the office of their commander-in-chief.

She had been terrified as she made her way to the palatial offices of Narcissa Malfoy.

What had she done? Or what had she NOT done? And would she be given a chance to fix it?

She had meekly shuffled past the trio of secretaries and into Mrs. Malfoy’s office where she stood waiting for an eternity, like a naughty schoolchild called in front of the Headmaster. Narcissa had looked up from the papers on her desk, arched a brow and with a smirk, read the last sentence Ginny ever wanted to hear from her lips.

"It felt like a hippogriff was eating my face off."

Oh no, not that.

About once a month, the interns were sent home with "goody bags" of new products in development. They tested the products and filled out review forms in triplicate. Most of the girls loved that part of the job; to Ginny, it was unpaid labor -- to test and brainstorm marketing on her weekends. She was able to pass some of the products on as presents and there were a few she happily kept. Like it or not, it was just part of the job and normally she gave as much time and thought to those weekend assignments as she did to her in-office work. Sometimes though...

The product that had prompted that sentence had been Lush’s Perfectly Polished Pumpkin Masque. It had looked great, a sort of pale pumpkin cream, and smelled even better. The directions said to apply it to freshly cleansed skin and leave it on until it dried, about five minutes. For the first minute, it had produced a mild tingling sensation, just enough to feel like it was working.

And then the burning had started.

Horrible burning that felt like every pore of her skin were filled with acid. She had frantically sprinted for the sink and washed it off, but the burning didn’t stop. She slathered cold cream on, applied cool washcloths, and rinsed another zillion times and still the burning wouldn’t stop.

She’d spent the afternoon with an awful rash across her face and a quill in hand filling out the forms. It had occurred to her to try and temper her words, but the continued pain on her face made her assessment perhaps more honest than it should have been. And now there it was in Narcissa’s hand.

Much to Ginny’s horror, her mouth started moving long before her brain recovered from the shock. "Mrs. Malfoy, about that evaluation, perhaps I was a bit…"

"Honest?" Narcissa smiled, curious to see what this girl would manage to blurt before she could stop herself. She was surprised when Miss Weasley managed to pull herself together in record time.

"Actually, yes. As is, that product would have been a disaster to Lush’s name and reputation. Not being a specialist in the chemistry of beauty charms, I am not sure what went wrong. I did consider that it might just be a personal allergic reaction, but I could find nothing listed that I have reactions to." So far so good, but best stop talking before she stopped sounding intelligent, Ginny thought. "I gave my opinion, pure and unfiltered, just as you asked."

"Oddly, you were the only intern to. I have tried this…goop…myself and it’s a disaster. Of course, after reading your review, I tested it on my arm." She pulled back her robe sleeve to reveal an ugly red patch of welts on her forearm. "I have been thinking what to make of you… Some of your reviews have been quite scathing as well as some of your feedback on our marketing strategies. In short, Miss Weasley, I don’t think we have any use for you buried among the interns."

Great…Nice going Ginny. Better call the doxy killers and beg for a second chance…

She was already mentally packing her desk and nearly missed Narcissa’s next sentence.

"I want you to be my personal assistant -- more a helper than a secretary."

And so it had started. Now, turning the corner towards those familiar double doors, Ginny prepared herself for the end.

She breezed past the three secretaries, emanating a cool calm that was only skin deep, and opened the door to Narcissa’s inner office.

She was braced for recriminations, anger, despair... Any number of negative emotions. She was not in any way prepared for glee. "Pardon me?"

"I said, you silly girl, that this is perfect!" Narcissa threw her hands up and waved her wand in the air to make the words "Lush Couture" glitter in the air beside her.

Ginny could only stare at her boss, utterly baffled.

Narcissa Lucrezia Malfoy nee Black had a reputation for being an icy bitch of a tyrant who ran her firm with an iron fist, terrorizing everyone from the desk clerk to her board of directors. Which was just the sort of chatter Narcissa delighted in, since such criticisms were usually paired with remarks about her elegance or unusual beauty. It made things so much easier when people just expected you to fume and scheme and, if that failed, look pretty and hope to get your way. It meant they were never expecting the formidable wit they usually ended up facing.

As improbable as it seemed considering Miss Weasley's genetic stock, Narcissa had come to see that Ginny was cut from much the same cloth. She had the intelligence, strength, and, most importantly, the temper to wring the absolute best from the staff and guide Lush to new heights. To that end, she had been mentoring the girl, helping her along and testing her mettle to see if she really had what it took to be a director with Lush.

Narcissa gave the befuddled girl a smile. This would be the final test and Narcissa was hoping her young assistant would pass.

"What do you know about the world of clothing design, Miss Weasley?"

Ginny blinked. "It's pretty thoroughly dominated by Malkin's and Gladrags - they haven't had any serious competition in eons, at least not domestically, and they take some fairly serious measures to prevent foreign incursions."

Impressive. The girl was quick witted and well informed.

"As an industry, the domestic market, particularly the high end market, seems ready for some competition. Some new blood to excite shoppers and wake up the old favorites. Gladrags hasn’t come out with anything really new in at least a decade, have they?"

Oh, she did like this girl. Narcissa nodded. "Exactly -- and I have been wondering for a few years now -- why not us?"

Ginny nibbled on her lower lip, brow furrowed in concentration. "Of course, if we got into the fashion game, we would need an fresh, new concept - great marketing, daring designs - to capture a sizable marketshare while we develop the complete line. Something splashy to draw in new customers and put the Lush stamp on the clothing market. We can't afford to wait until we have a complete line to move forward - too risky. We need to be sure of our customer base as we move forward. On the upside, we already have most of the 18-30's living the 'Lush or Nothing' ideal for makeup and beauty charms. But we can’t pull this off overnight -- has there been any planning?"

Narcissa produced a thick folder. "Only three years' worth, my dear."

Ginny took the folder and started looking through it, becoming thoroughly absorbed. Before her attention was irretrievably lost, Narcissa took a deep breath and announced, loudly enough for the three secretaries who had their ears pressed to her closed office door to hear, "Tomorrow we announce Lush's new line of lingerie, available only at our exclusive Lush boutiques this spring. As for the ad campaign..."

Suddenly Ginny understood. With a gasp, she blurted, "In the months leading up to the debut, we run a series of ads with models in compromising, yet tastefully revealing poses, with a twist on the current Lush cosmetics tagline! We change it to, say, 'I leave the house in Lush or nothing'. And today - "

It was almost too improbable to be believed, but it could work. The spectacular debacle could be salvaged!

"And today’s…happenings…are passed off as an elaborate publicity stunt to get the press buzzing before we announce the new line! It’s brilliant!"

Judging from Narcissa's ear to ear smirk that was just what she had been hoping Ginny would conclude.

"Of course it’s brilliant -- we came up with it. With the help of my personal team of gossips," she said, nodding towards the door and her team of secretaries, "the news of the hottest lingerie line the wizarding world has even seen is sure to be on the lips of everyone in the building by lunchtime and everyone everywhere by nightfall."


~End Chapter Two~

Chapter Three – The Barking Mad Idea


For being privy to the biggest fashion coup the wizarding world had seen in thirty years, Ginny wasn’t feeling very excited. Mainly she was feeling exhausted. Her day turned into a blur of owling photographers and models, booking rooms for the shoot, and schmoozing with every Muggle fashion house, all of whom enjoyed quite a sizable income from Mrs. Malfoy and her set, and the three or four firms who provided wizarding couture.

That was the real issue. There simply weren't many firms offering wizarding couture and those that were hadn't changed the bulk of their designs since the Victorian era. Dress robes only got a society girl so far these days and even those with less than notable bloodlines wanted to see and be seen in the right clothes.

She valiantly ignored the pounding headache coming on and used the internal Wizarding Instant Communicator to call the publicity, advert, and marketing departments to inform them that no one would see their beds that night until they had produced at least two useable ads to be enlarged and used at tomorrow's press conference. Thank goodness for plethora of spells that could give them a hope of being ready come 9 am.

Word spread fast. By the time she was ready to call marketing, no one was answering her calls. She actually had to owl notices to the heads of marketing. Luckily, those owls were pretty clever. She heard a rumor that an owl had been spotted waiting outside the third floor men's loo.

Two more hours flew by before the now least popular employee in Lush realized she hadn't eaten lunch and it was nearly 6 pm. She charmed up one of Mrs. Malfoy's three secretaries on the WIC line.

Carissa answered cheerily, "Mz. Malfoy's office, how can I help you?"

The 'girls' insisted on calling their exalted hero Mz. Malfoy. How they reconciled her roles as dutiful wife and mother with the mythic feminist heroine they made her out to be, she had not the slightest clue.

Ginny restrained herself from rolling her eyes. "Carissa! Glad I caught you, this is Mz. Weasley."

The temperature dropped ten degrees as Carissa icily replied. "I can't stay all night so don't even ask. Some of us have unbreakable plans, you know."

Recalling a bit of gossip she had heard during her mad dash to the ladies a few hours before, Ginny smiled. "No, no. Wouldn't want you to keep the young Mr. Malfoy waiting. It's nothing like that. I missed lunch in all this chaos and am so hungry I could transfigure my desk into a snack. Could you ask Mz. Malfoy what she might want for dinner and place a delivery order for us both?? Looks like it's going to be a long night."

Abruptly Carissa was all sunshine and daisies again. "Oh, Gin. You poor darling! Melinda actually already put in an order for all of you. She has selflessly volunteered to stay tonight. The tapas should be here in about 15 minutes. Just trot down the hall in bit, okay? She’s setting up a little buffet in Mz. Malfoy’s conference room."

Somehow Ginny suspected that Melinda's 'selflessness' was the product of drawing the short wand and not the girl's abundant generosity. None of the girls liked to be the one working the odd hours Mz., she corrected herself, Mrs. Malfoy kept. Ginny mentally crossed that item off her list, and answered the once again ringing WIC on the first ring.

The calls came fast and furious, but she breathed a sigh of relief as she disconnected from the last. They had a room, three photographers, a skeleton staff from the ad and marketing departments and clothing being flown and apparated to London from all over. What they did not have was the model, the model that could pull this whole thing off.

Finding the model was turning out to be a real problem, and Ginny still had nothing twenty minutes later, when a grumble from her stomach reminded her that there had been food due. Praying that the jackals she worked with hadn't managed to finish off every crumb in less than five minutes, Ginny moved down the hallway to the conference room.

There was still food - thank all the gods and goddesses ever created!

Ginny wasted no time loading up a plate and starting to munch, explaining the model problem to Narcissa in between bites. She'd just stuffed a bit of spicy sausage into her mouth when the local lothario himself interrupted with, "Why don't you do it?"

She spun around and nearly dropped the empanada she had just picked up down the front of her shirt. Draco Malfoy was leaning against the doorframe and, if she hadn’t been hallucinating from the lack of sustenance, had been checking out her bum. His appreciative study of her form did not go unnoticed and earned Ginny a particularly black look from Carissa.

Resting her hand on Draco’s arm, the pretty blonde fluttered her lashes and cooed, “We should get going, you said the reservation was for seven. Besides, these ladies have a lot of work to do. We should get out of the way and let them get to it.”

The last was practically a command. Or as much of a command as the typist peon wench dared to level at someone who was technically her boss, Ginny thought sourly.

"Why do you say that, Draco?" Narcissa said, freezing Carissa in her tracks. "While Miss Weasley has a lot of excellent qualities, being a size zero is not among them."

Draco shrugged. "You want to be different, don't you? Weasley's got that hearty peasant wench look to her - all breasts and hips. Also, it would mean you can capitalize further on the photographs of her from this morning."

Narcissa turned a new, critical eye to her assistant. Decently long legs, nice hourglass figure - not too round but curvy in all the right places, her breasts weren't terribly large but they certainly weren't as small as the current fashion. Body-wise, not bad. Now her face - well, she had the sort of face men loved on bad girls. All innocence and sugar except for that spark of mischief in her eye. Her hair was nothing short of stunning. That it was red, there was no denying, but it was a rich red - now auburn, now fiery orange, now true crimson, depending on how the light caught it.

With a nod she decided - it could work. Still, it never hurt to be safe. "She does have a certain something. We'll try her, along with one of our usual girls. Let's see how the proofs look." With that, Narcisssa considered the matter closed.

"Er..." Ginny stood, crumbs and grease stains on her chest, and wondered what had just happened. "Wait, what? I'm not a model!"

"Obviously," said Carissa, with no small amount of scorn.

Ginny felt her temper rising. She had had an excruciatingly long day, with an even longer night ahead of her, and she wasn't in the mood for Carissa's little jealousies. Besides, the smirk Draco was giving her was just begging to be wiped off his face by a nice big glob of black olive tapenade. Her right hand was twitching towards the bowl when she took a deep breath and forced a calm smile.

"Weren't you two off to dinner and a night out on the town?" She practically pushed them out the door. "Carissa, you just run along and have a good time. Don't you worry a minute about our little crisis. I'll just take one for the team and have my face plastered on every advertisement we put out for the next few months. Such a sacrifice! But I am just that kind of girl. Nighty-night! You two be good."

With a final cheery wave, brimming with genuine cheer thanks to the scowl on Carissa's face, she swung the door shut, locking it for good measure.

She took a deep breath, carefully composing her words. The woman was obviously barking mad and any sudden moves might startle her.

"Mrs. Malfoy. You can't be serious. Me? As the lead model for THE most important ad campaign we've ever launched. It's absurd."

"Perhaps," Narcissa said, hiding a flicker of amusement.

Really, it was worth keeping the Weasley girl as an assistant just for the privilege of watching her attempt to keep her temper. "But that will be for me to decide once I see the photographs."

"But--"

Narcissa held up a hand. "Whatever else you might say about him, and I've heard more of what you say than you think, Draco has an excellent eye for women. If he says you should be photographed, I believe it's for a reason."

It was useless to argue with her. Great, pin-up shots of her everywhere was only a marginally more horrifying thought than the realization of what she would probably look like in those pictures. She could see it now, bags under her eyes, hair lank, every muscle screaming for sleep. It was enough to make her want to fall face forward into the gazpacho and wish the world farewell.

Luckily for both her and the gazpacho, there was a frantic pounding on the locked door.

“Miss Weasley! Miss Weasley!! We have one! We have got a model!”

She flung open the door and couldn’t stop herself from hugging Jean-Claude, Lush's resident artiste and the director over advertising and marketing.

“What a relief!! Jean-Claude, you and those happy little serfs you've got slaving away for you are miracle workers!! I don't even want to know how many people you all have floo'd tonight. So- Who’d we get on such short notice?”

"Pansy Parkinson," said Jean-Claude, in tones normally reserved for deities and really excellent desserts.

"Fabulous!" cried Ginny without even a hint of sarcasm. Considering she cordially loathed the bint, who was no longer pug-nosed thanks to the wonders of rhinoplasty, that was saying a lot. "That's fantastic, I owe you one! We'll start as soon as she arrives - I can get all of the clothes adjusted to her measurements. Pansy will be wonderful as the face of Lush Lingerie."

"Not all of the clothing, Miss Weasley." Narcissa's voice was implacable and Ginny groaned, seeing her escape flying away. "Jean-Claude, how long before Miss Parkinson arrives?"

He shrugged in a distinctly Gallic way. "She said an hour, but, more likely is two, two and a half."

"Excellent," said Narcissa. "That will give us enough time to take pictures of our Ginny here and still have some of the clothes ready for when Miss Parkinson arrives."

~ End Chapter Three

Chapter Four – Primp or Die

And so it came to pass that the youngest member of Clan Weasley found herself the center of a frenzied cloud of activity. Makeup artists, hair stylists and designers fluttered around her, primping and patting and foofing her. In theory, people fussing over her and making her all glamorous sounded fun. In practice, it was a lot like being a giant pincushion, particularly since the dresser kept "accidentally" stabbing her as he altered the shirt that had been tossed onto her.

She couldn't jump though, because one of the makeup artists was perilously close to putting her eye out with a mascara wand. Her nose was itching terribly, but both hands were being held captive by manicurists who seemed to be intent on pushing her cuticles up to her elbows. Her hair was being tossed this way and that by a woman who looked more like a dorm mother than a top notch stylist, clucking under her breath and fussing, trying to get Ginny's hair to behave.

Gerta the Stylist was poured into a pastel fuzzy sweater covered in ridiculous pale pink pompoms and the whole thing looked like it might, at any moment, lose its fight to cover Gerta's ample girth. Ginny giggled at the metal image of pompoms shooting willy-nilly across the room, smacking the makeup artist in the forehead and rebounding in cheerful ricochets around the tiny dressing room. Her giggles, and the wiggles that they caused, prompted outraged shouts from her "team". Unfortunately the annoyed looks they were giving her only made her laugh harder, imagining their glares being met by tiny pompom missiles.

She had just gotten herself calmed down, after four simultaneous admonitions to 'Sit still if you value your eye/hair/right breast/left hand', when she nearly jumped out of her skin. Yanking her hands away from the manicurists and pushing the hovering makeup artist aside, her eyebrows nearly disappeared into her hairline as she smacked the hands pushing up her skirt. Sitting up from the semi-reclined position her torturers had draped her in, for their convenience she supposed, she glared at the young man who was currently peering at her now-exposed thigh.

"Excuse you! Just what in Circe's name do you think you are doing?"

He didn't even look up. "Just checking to see how much makeup we'll need to put on your legs. Ugh, and it looks like we will need to do a quick waxing before the shoot."

Calling to his assistant, he smoothed her skirt back down over her knees. "Run and find Elise. She does a lovely depilatory charm and we're going to need one if we aren't going to have her looking like a bushwoman in the snaps."

His assistant frowned, holding up her own wand. He snapped at her, "Stop pouting, you drama queen, you know your charm always leaves the legs reddened. We don't have time to wait for it to fade."

He wandered off, still chattering at his assistant, without so much as a word to her. What rudeness! The gall of that arrogant little twerp! And did she really need a waxing that badly? Before she could check, four pairs of hands pulled her back into the chair and resumed their fussing and poking and, oh joy, eyebrow plucking.

"Don't worry, Weasel, I'm told some men like being with hairy beasts."

Ginny's teeth, already on edge with the indignity of it all, threatened to grind to powder. "What the hell are you doing here, Malfoy? I know for a fact that Carissa puts out - why are you back already?"

"Why Miss Weasley, I am not even going to ask how you know that."

She could hear the smirk. She couldn't see him, but she just knew he was wearing that cat-who-ate-the-canary-in-front-of-its-owner-and-still-got-the-cream smirk. Damn thing should be patented.

"Someone get him out of here or I bolt."

Gerta patted her shoulder. "He won't be in here when they do the shoot, dear. No worries."

"The hell I won't. Am I the Executive Director of Public Relations or aren't I?"

"There is no way on this earth that I'm going to prance around in knickers in front of you, no matter what title Mummy gave her precious ickle baby Drakie." Ginny's ferocious glare was somewhat hampered by the cream that was being troweled onto her face. "As for during the depilatory process? I would sooner go back to the Burrow and have a dozen of Harry Potter's babies."

His muffled laugh had her out of the chair, fussing artists and dressers shoved rudely aside, her hair half in curlers and her smock akimbo. "What is so funny?"

"Well besides your truly enchanting appearance at this moment, I found your phrasing amusing. That you 'wouldn't prance about in your knickers in front of me.' From what I understood of the ad concept, you won't be wearing any."

Her face grew red and, despite the opening and closing of her mouth, no words were coming out.

"There will be knickers!" she shouted, and then honesty compelled her to add in a mutter, "Some of the time, at least. I mean, we're selling the damn things, we can't have an ad campaign that doesn't show a single one. Can we?"

No one answered her desperate question, but Malfoy's smirk said it all.

"This is insane! Why am I doing this?" Ginny frantically looked around for an escape route.

A commanding voice rang out, silencing the room. "Enough. Mr. Malfoy, kindly step out into the hall. We need to get Miss Weasley into costume."

A small man with a dark goatee trimmed to end in a neat little point managed to shove Draco out the door and yank the curtains around the dressing area closed. He took Ginny's hand and, bowing low over it, kissed it. "I am Ernesto. I am to be your photographer tonight. Put yourself into my hands and I promise you, you will feel nothing but pride about these pictures." He held out both of his hands, palms up. "Well? What do you say?"

Really there was nothing Ginny could do to fight this. What Narcissa wanted, she got. With a sigh, she placed her hands atop his and answered, "I'm all yours, Ernesto."

He grinned and squeezed her hands gently before barking out orders to the staff standing, brushes, wands, and needles in hand, waiting for another stab at their victim (literally in some cases).

Ernesto looked her over from head to toe, his dark eyes appreciative without going so far as to be uncomfortable. "Ah, it is rare indeed I get to photograph a real woman. I grow weary of anemic twigs. A real woman should have some softness, some curves – and you, are all woman," he said, raising her hand to his lips once more. "It will be an honor and a pleasure to capture your beauty."

Ginny wondered if the heat of her blush would bake the various products on her face, but something about him radiated sincerity and she wanted very much to please him and be worthy of his admiration. "Thank you."

"No, no, thank you," he said with a twinkle in his eye. "Now, you must let these fine people torture you just another moment to add the last bit of polish and then we shall start, yes?"

The moment she agreed, she was once again surrounded by the horde. Giving herself over entirely to them, she stopped even trying to make sense of the conversations going on around her. She simply turned this way and that, open and closed her eyes, and allowed various articles of clothing to be placed on her like a child's doll.

"More shine, the lips need to draw you in. They need to scream, 'Kiss me!'"

"Eh, the shirt fits fine -- no tugging, no bunching. One size smaller should do the trick."

"Oh marvelous, you are just the type of wizard I would expect to know a charm for lifting ladies skirts quite by accident. But it is a little uncontrolled. Perhaps if we combined it with some form of Immobilus?"

"Gerta, those curls look just lovely. Excellent work as always." She recognized that voice as Ernesto's but lost him again in the cacophony.

"I've got the books!"

"Check out these specs -- just perfect. Borrowed 'em from one of the girls in sales."

"Here -- was this the sort of shoe you -- oh. Well, how about these?"

As quickly as they descended on her, the crowd dissipated, and Ginny got her first look at herself. Her jaw dropped open.

Her hair lay in soft curls and they must have cast a charm on it, because the red simply shone. The makeup was soft but striking; her eyes had gained a hint of green, her skin was peachier, and her lips were wantonly full. She made a note to ask later about some of the makeup tricks they had used. With a little less va-voom, it was a look she was comfortable wearing in real life.

The same could not be said of the clothing. They had her in a little, scandalously little, dove-gray tweed skirt. The gentle A-line made her waist look much smaller than she knew it to be and its length left little, if anything, to the imagination. The white button-down shirt was at least two sizes too small, and they had added a gold-rimmed pair of bifocals on a thin gold chain that rested just above the first button they had bothered to fasten. The addition of dove-gray, finely woven socks and a tarted up pair of loafers with block heels higher than any she had ever worn completed her transformation from executive assistant to Lush Librarian.

She looked more likely to have her way with a patron atop a study table than know where to locate a book on archaic curses. She looked good but... rather exposed. Merciful Morgaine, she hoped they didn't have her sit down, the damn skirt would vanish entirely if she did.

Before she could get too panicked about her lack of apparel, Ernesto was at her side.

"You look a vision. There is just one more thing before we begin…" He held out his hand and she simply looked at it, lost.

He smiled gently, leaning closer to say softly, "Your underwear, Miss Weasley. I need you to remove them."

Ginny swallowed hard. It was the moment of truth, and she really didn't want to do it.

She didn't have to, after all. She could walk out on a job she loved, which paid her more than enough to live independent of the smothering love of her family.

She could stand up, say something - maybe a thank you to the people who had turned her beautiful, or an apology to Ernesto - and then turn to walk out of the door.

It'd be really simple – just walk away.

It would also be cowardly, and she was not a coward.

Pulling herself together, her jaw firm with determination, she stood up very straight and looked defiantly at Malfoy, who had snuck back into the room and was sneering at her.

Before doubt could set in, she reached under her skirt and wiggled out of her knickers. She twirled the satin thong, a very pretty shade of teal with tiny white polka dots, around her index finger with a bravado she didn't feel.

"All right, then," she said, tossing the scrap of cloth off into a corner. "What now?"

Ernesto looked quite proud of her and he gave her a sweeping bow. "To the studio. Everything is ready and waiting for you - our star."

With her head held high, she walked out of the dressing room without so much as a sidelong glance at Malfoy. She could -- no, she would - do this.

~ End Chapter Four

Chapter Five – Punch Drunk Sex Goddess


Ginny nearly ran over Pansy, who was just arriving.

Pansy's eyes looked like they were about to pop out of her head and Ginny was pleased to see the venomous little bitch's jaw drop. Ginny wasn't one to hold grudges, but Pansy had a way of making every other female she encountered feel like a troll.

"Ginny? Wow. I mean, I knew they could work miracles, but you look…" Pansy was clearly at a loss for words.

No worries, Ginny had plenty for them both.

"Pansy, what a surprise. Thanks, I am rather…" she glanced down at her outfit, "wow, aren't I?"

She gave the other girl a critical look up and down. "You better scoot along into makeup and let them work their magic. We're so rushed for time and they might need all they can get, but I am SO thrilled to see you grew out of that unfortunate gawky phase you were in. Why, to look at you now, one would never know we called you 'Pansy the Amazing Pug-faced Girl' when we were at Hogwarts."

She left the other girl fuming in the hall and continued on into the studio.

The shoot itself was both harder and easier than Ginny had anticipated. It was physically grueling to spend hours moving from pose to pose without ever getting a chance to sit down. The lights made her hot and she would have been sweating like mad if she hadn't had about a thousand protective charms making her skin prickle. Of course, that could have been lingering effects from the supposedly "rogue" bikini wax she'd been hit with early on in the shoot.

But, even though she usually hated having her picture taken, and despite the fact she had passed exhaustion several hours ago, she was having fun.

She was in the odd twilight past bone-crushing weariness, past the point she should have by all rights passed out, and everything was funny, including the memory of her conversation with Pansy. Part of her was mortified she had been so outright bitchy. The other part was giggling madly at the pole-axed look on Pansy's face. Her new confidence and the exaggerated hyper-sexiness of the poses she went through were just another thing that struck her as wonderfully amusing, not embarrassing at all. It was a persona, something she'd slipped on along with her rather minimal costume. She was a sex goddess, a queen.

An assistant slipped in and whispered something to Ernesto.

Ernesto frowned. "Hmm, it would seem Ms. Pansy is not quite ready. I have another idea -- Ginny?"

Why not? she thought, and let herself be shuffled behind a screen for a quick change. One of the primpers appeared and fussed with her make-up and hair.

She re-emerged in an oversized Quidditch jumper that keep slipping off one shoulder. The library set had been pushed aside and replaced with a divan that was normally to be found in Narcissa's outer office.

She spent most of the shoot wondering how they had managed to wrestle the rather large piece of furniture down the stairs and into the studio. Ernesto would sometimes try to draw her attention back to the camera and the task at hand, but she was a million miles away.

She was mentally rearranging the offices to make a large enough path for furniture wrestling when someone announced that Pansy was ready.

She trotted back across the hall with a sigh of relief.

Pansy really did look lovely. They had put her in a full ball gown, emerald green with a fitted bodice and full sweeping skirt. She looked up as Ginny walked in, a frown eliciting a squeak from the woman applying her lipstick.

Ginny took a seat to wait for them to finish prepping Pansy and, much to her embarrassment, promptly fell asleep.

She didn't get to sleep for long, however, as the relentless assault of beauty restarted. When she resisted, a chorus informed her Ernesto wanted her back in the studio right away.

Her face felt stiff from a new application of makeup and charms, and her hair felt odd, swept up into an elegant twist and held in place by about a dozen heavy-duty charms. A hideously gaudy dog-collar necklace of diamonds so large they had to be fake was attached around her neck, and then matching earrings like boulders were threaded through her lobes. The sleeves of the jumper were pushed up and black gloves placed over her hands and smoothed upwards until they covered her elbows, and then diamond bracelets were closed over her wrists like manacles. Her shoes were removed and replaced with stiletto heels that were covered with the same fabric as her gloves were made of.

There was something wrong, but she couldn't quite figure it out as she yawned and let them work on her.

Eventually she was led, quite literally, back to the studio, where Pansy was playing coy as a too-handsome male model was chasing her around with a glass slipper. Ginny leaned against the wall and dozed as the Cinderella scenario was played out and photographed, only coming back to herself when Pansy brushed by her on the way out and almost knocked her down.

"Ah, Ginny, you are returned! Wonderful, wonderful, let us just change the scenery and we shall begin." Ernesto beamed at her before joining in the wand-waving that was changing a romantic castle into a glittering theater premiere.

Finally it occurred to Ginny what she needed to ask. "Shouldn't I be wearing different clothes?"

Ernesto said nothing, but turned and cleared his throat loudly enough to get everyone's attention. "For this next shot, I would like everyone to leave the room except myself and Josefina, my assistant."

The crew just stared at him like he had lost his mind. When no one moved, he planted his hands on his hips and glared. "I said out! Are you peoples deaf? OUT!"

His normal slightly affected accent vanished and suddenly he sounded just like some of the New York assistants Ginny had spoken with so many times on the WIC. Their unique accents had something to do with them living somewhere having to do with royalty of some sort and New York City, though Ginny didn't think they had royalty in the States.

Ernesto repeated himself with a growl, "I mean NOW!"

The crew unfroze, gathering up their things and emptying the room.

Ernesto cast a locking charm on the door as the last person left and turned to her.

With his voice returned to his normal plummy tones, he turned to her and smiled. "Now, Ginny, for this next shot, I have a vision, and--"

Ginny was still nowhere near normal in terms of mental processes, but something clicked in her sleep-deprived brain. She knew what he was about to ask. "Fine."

"But, you must understand, this is..." Ernesto's voice trailed off as he realized Ginny had agreed.

"I trust you, Ernesto. Let's get this over with. The sooner we start, the sooner we finish and the sooner I can sleep."

The hour passed in a blur of flashing lights as Ginny had her picture taken and before she knew it, she was free.

She took advantage of her freedom to stumble back to her office, where she quickly lost consciousness, curled awkwardly on her small couch.


~End Chapter Five~

Authors' Note: Glad you all are enjoying the review responses as much as we enjoy chatting with each and every one of you. I know you'd like updates more frequently, but we are doing our best to keep this on track and also manage all our other commitments. Perhaps a longer than usual chapter will appease you all? ~Ves

Myn says: Demands for updates tend to make updates happen slower, just FYI. Polite requests for updates are sometimes honored. If you're unsure of the difference, err on the side of caution and courtesy.



Chapter Six – Potions, Press Conferences, & Pastry Purloining

Ginny felt like she had barely closed her eyes before someone was shaking her awake, yelling about something that might've sounded important if Ginny hadn't been busy trying to lift eyelids that weighed five thousand pounds each. The reason why it felt that way was obvious as soon as she forced her eyes to focus on the clock, which showed only four minutes had passed since she'd come into her office to collapse. The flunky who had awoken her was still babbling, but his hysterical chatter was cut off as Ginny lifted one hand and shot him a baleful glare.

"You will shut up now," she said slowly, trying not to look at his throat and think how easy it would be to rip out his trachea. From the expression of hypnotized terror he wore, he probably guessed the direction of her thoughts.

"You will fetch me coffee. The coffee will be strong. The coffee will have two sugars and a splash - just a splash - of cream, not milk. Once you have brought me the coffee, you may sit quietly and wait for me to drink it and then, if you are very lucky, I will solve your problem in a way that does not involve your death."

He continued staring at her for a long moment, somewhat hunched over and twisted, as if he couldn't decide whether he wanted to hide or run away. Finally Ginny said, "Go," and he went, as rapidly as he possibly could without actually flying. Ginny sank into the chair behind her desk and covered her face with her hands in order to wait for either her homicidal rage to cool or her coffee to arrive.

Once she'd had her coffee, she looked up at the lackey that sanity now allowed her to identify as Josh the intern, who had been quietly sitting on her couch and trembling ever since he'd handed her the large mug of perfectly prepared coffee. "All right, what was the problem?"

Josh had apparently been a sacrificial lamb sent to spearhead the invasion, because no sooner was she solving his problem than another three office drones appeared in the doorway, clutching papers. It seemed that everyone had at least three life-or-death crises cropping up at any given time, and someone had to make the decisions. Given her staff regarded Mrs. Malfoy with both awe and terror, this meant that everything dealing with the new line was filtered through Ginny.

Well, everything except the photographs. Those were delivered directly to Narcissa, who closed herself into her office with a select few and sealed the door. Ginny would have worried about it, but she had too much else to do. Dawn came and went, and the regular staff started trickling back in, meaning more people to do Ginny's bidding, but also more people to bring her problems. She had just finished looking over the room the press conference would be held in when someone walked by with a tray of coffee and she snagged one without the slightest remorse or thought for who it was actually intended for. It was her eleventh cup of the night, but who cared?

"Miss Weasley!" One of Ernesto's flock was careening towards her, madly waving a sheaf of papers. The young woman screeched to a halt and gasped a few time before getting words out. "We need you to sign these."

Ginny stared at the stack of papers in front of her. "What are these?"

"For the-"

Before she could finish, Narcissa's voice rang out, sounding rather annoyed. "Where IS Miss Weasley?"

Ginny hastily scrawled her name everywhere the girl pointed and scurried around the corner.

Of course, Narcissa looked immaculate, like she'd had plenty of sleep and boasted not a single care in the world. Well, except for that slight frown. Striding down the hall, a small herd of assistants in tow, she was a woman on a mission. She shoved a stack of papers at Ginny and started right in with her list, never slowing her step for a moment.

"Miss Weasley, so nice you could join me. Is everything set up for the press conference?"

"I believe so. They were just placing the dais and chairs when I was down there last."

"Excellent. I have selected the shots to be used and some photographic genius or another on staff around here is working on making sure they are enlarged. Please make sure there are two stands ready on the dais. Oh, and velvet drapes - unveiling the ads will create a lovely sense of drama, don't you think?"

"Lovely," Ginny agreed and scribbled a note.

Narcissa stopped abruptly, causing a minor kerfuffle of ladies in stilettos trying to stop on polished marble floors. "I feel a bit peckish. We need pastries. Perhaps fruit and few cheese. I'm not sure just which I am hungry for."

"Yes ma'am." Ginny glanced meaningfully at Indira, Narcissa's third secretary, who had been leading the pack of high-heeled sprinters.

Indira tended to keep well out the way if she could help it, which was wise as it meant she almost never had to go running after anything. This was not one of those times and Ginny was pleased to see her nod and go tearing off down a side hall with two other girls in search of sustenance. Perhaps she could nick some from Research and Development; they always had quite a spread of snacks.

"Miss Weasley, are you listening?"

Ginny flinched. No, she hadn't been listening. She had been pondering the possible pastries on premises. Her alliteration struck her as suddenly funny and she choked back a giggle.

Narcissa started hard at her assistant. "Have you gotten any sleep at all?"

Ginny snorted, then pulled her face back to serious lines. "A few cat naps?" She took a large swallow of the coffee in her hand. "I'll be fine."

"I need you lucid for this press conference," she said, frowning in a way that stilled all protests Ginny might've made.

Narcissa clapped and instantly one of the pack appeared at her side, ready to obey any order - up to and including ritual suicide. "Fetch Miss Weasley a refreshing sleep potion and then keep an eye on her for the half hour it will be in effect."

Ginny's plan of just bullying the flunky out of obeying was foiled by Narcissa insisting she take a seat in a corner of the outer office. It was a cushy chair and, with the potion and relative quiet, all her muscles relaxed as she sprawled out. Narcissa shook her head at the ungainly pose, then stifled a laugh as a delicate but unmistakable snore emitted from her assistant's lips.

While Ginny was out cold, the preparations continued. Indira arrived – triumphant - with a selection of pastries. Even more press members than yesterday were planning on attend today's conference and someone had to go add more seating. Narcissa was writing the announcement in her head, occasionally asking Carissa to jot down a note or two, when she caught Draco whispering to one of the photography lackeys.

"I want copies of all the Weasley prints. And this one, I want it enlarged to poster size." He paused, looked at the photo again and said, "Life sized, actually."

Interesting. Narcissa sauntered over and took the photograph out of his hand.

After a moment's study, she said, "You, get a print of this to the art department and let them know it's to be the line's logo with some obvious modifications - they're to have it to me for approval within twenty minutes. Draco, get someone to get another stand and drapes to go with the life-sized enlargement of this and make sure it's set up well before the conference starts or, and I mean this quite literally, heads will roll."

~.~

Ginny awoke to find herself alone in the outer office. The blue and teal paisley pattern of the chair swam before her sleep-blurred eyes as she managed to claw her way to a somewhat upright position. Where was she? Why had she been sleeping --

Like the glaring light of an oncoming train, it all came back.

Ye Gods! She had a press conference to be at in, she glanced at a nearby clock, thirty minutes. She flew out of the outer office into the reception area, trying unsuccessfully to brush the wrinkles out of her trousers. Carissa gasped, her look of horror making it plain Ginny had quite a bit more to worry about than wrinkled clothes.

"Miss Weasley, you're awake. You look…um, less sleep deprived, though rather street-chic." Ginny refrained from actually strangling the girl, taking this frantic statement of the obvious in stride.

Carissa shoved a small bag of toiletries into Ginny's hands and pushed her towards the ladies room. "Let's go - you have to be on the platform in, eek, twenty minutes. Go! GO!" she said, throwing open the door and all but throwing Ginny into the lavatory.

Ginny looked in the mirror and was so shocked that profanity gave way to one of her mother's sayings, "Oh my stars and garters."

Her eyeliner and lipstick were fighting for possession of her nose, while the charm on her freckles and cheeks faded in and out. Half of the charms on her hair were still quite firmly in place, while the other half had faded and left her hair hanging limply. She tried – unsuccessfully - to remove all of the charms and scrubbed her face.

"Fetch the brown palette from my top left drawer," she said to Carissa.

"Please, thank you," said the other girl before flouncing off. Ginny rolled her eyes and closed the door again before shedding her clothes.

Thanking providence for having grown up poor, she cast a charm which morphed her trousers into a thin pencil skirt, changed the collar and cuffs of her blouse to flare, then freshened herself and the clothes before putting them back on. Her hair got smoothed down and pulled into a ponytail at her nape.

She looked twelve – maybe a mature thirteen. Not at all like the siren of last night.

For the first time in recorded history, Carissa proved to be useful. She returned with the palatte and wand in hand. Undoing the remaining charms, she helped Ginny apply fresh makeup and produced some nice, understated jewelry from somewhere.

"The ponytail will never do," Carissa said disdainfully. A quick charm later, the ponytail was replaced by a French braid. Ginny had to admit, it did look more professional.

Narcissa was waiting when they emerged and took hold of Ginny's chin, pulling her face up to study it. "Hmm. Yes, the farmgirl look will be a nice contrast."

Narcissa lead Ginny into the Board Room where the directors of Marketing, Research and Development, Public Relations, and Design, all surrounded by their various sub-directors, were waiting. Malfoy raised one brow at Ginny's appearance but – thankfully - said nothing.

Narcissa drummed her nails on the tabletop and the room fell silent. "As you know, today we announce the launch of a whole new product line for Lush. We have not had as much time to prepare for these changes as we may have preferred but here we are, the changes upon us."

She stood, commanding even more attention as she towered over those seated at the table. "In the coming days, I will be announcing the responsibilities associated with this new line. I think this gives us an exciting opportunity to shake things up a bit. I hate to have pull some of you away from your current responsibilities, but this new line is going to need our full attention. We need it fast, we need it cheap, and most of all we need it to be absolutely stunning," she said, pounding her fist into her palm for emphasis.

"So - be prepared for some changes around here." Her smile made it clear that anyone complaining about the changes was welcome to leave. If she noticed the fearful trembling going on among her directors, she said nothing. "By this time next year, Lush will be the name on everyone's lips for cosmetics, charms and couture."

She turned to the assistant by her side. " Three Cs...Hmm, Melinda, jot that down. I'll do something with that later."

"But for now," she said, turning back to those assembled with a dramatic sweep of her arm, "our public awaits. Let's see just how desperate they are for a statement and who is tactless enough to ask about you know what."

Based on the gleam in their fearless leader's eye, Ginny pitied anyone who the audacity to so much as hint that yesterday had existed.


~End Chapter Six~

Chapter Seven – The Photo that Shook the World


The elaborate foyer, where both yesterday's and today's press conferences were staged, was abuzz as the executives of Lush entered. Every head in the room turned to see the woman whose 'assets' were front-page news for every seedy rag and, sadly, most of the respectable publications of the wizarding world. Narcissa didn’t look the least bit bothered by the attention and continued on towards the podium. Ginny took her place on the front row, slightly annoyed when Malfoy claimed the seat next to her.

Narcissa was totally in her element. Everything about her commanded attention and she was using it to her full advantage. The dais was set up exactly as Narcissa had commanded, though Ginny was surprised to see three covered easels onstage. The last she knew, they were only using two of the countless shots they had produced at their all-night emergency photo shoot.

"What's under the third drape? Did she decide to use those shots of Pansy bicycling?" she hissed at the head of marketing, seated to her right.

He said nothing, but a voice from her left answered in a know-it-all sneer she was growing quite sick of. "You'll see, little weasel. It's a surprise."

Before she could come up with a snappish reply, the press conference was underway.

Taking her place behind the podium, Narcissa let the chatter continue for a moment before holding up her hand, a gesture which resulted in immediate silence.

"Members of the press, Ministry officials and honored guests, I am so pleased our little preview yesterday piqued your interest. I am standing before you today to announce an exciting new venture."

She lifted her wand and, with a flick, the velvet drapes fell from the two smaller stands.

"Lush is going to bring our flair, our…” Narcissa paused, as if searching for the right words, “our unique twist, to the world of couture. The first offering in our new line will be lingerie unlike any the wizarding world has ever seen. But until our creations are ready for the stores, we want to get the word out...”

Narcissa removed the drape from the nearest easel with another flick of her wand and, with a smirk more commonly associated with her son, announced, “We leave the house in Lush or nothing."

Ginny gasped, her eyes flying to an all-too-familiar outfit. There she was in that tarty librarian getup. The pictures had turned out wonderfully -- a fact which she would have been better able to appreciate if she wasn't contemplating finding a rock to crawl under.

The ad showed a long shot of her shelving books. A jet of green light flew at her and the camera followed it to a close-up of her skirt flying up. The ad froze, skirt in mid-flight, revealing a long stretch of leg and just enough of her hip to make it clear she had nothing on underneath. That was bad enough, but then there was the pull of the tight shirt across her chest, made worse by the books she had cradled in the arm closest to the camera, and even further emphasized by the demure reading glasses resting just above her breasts... And the way the shot was cropped for the still frame!

She felt her cheeks grow warm looking at the way it had been edited, with her mouth, frozen in a rather lewd 'O' of surprise at the top and a vast expanse of bare leg beneath. Sure, the rest of her was there, but the shot was designed to draw the eye from her mouth to her breasts and then across her thigh where the words 'I leave the house in Lush...or Nothing' were writing themselves across the freeze frame in golden glittering script. They remained for a few moments before vanishing as the loop began again.

"Breathe, Weasley. You're turning quite blue." His breath was warm on her ear and she jerked in surprise to find Malfoy leaning over to her, obviously watching her reaction with great amusement.

She glared at him and turned her attention to the other stand.

Ginny took several deep breaths and braced herself to look at the next one, which wasn't quite as bad. This one had her wearing an oversized dark green Quidditch jersey and nothing else. They'd tarted her up with smoky eyes and really dark lips, then rumpled her hair. She looked a right mess, like she'd slept with her makeup on, and the expression they'd chosen for the photo was of her making the patented "Princess Pout" that had always worked on her father and all her brothers except Ron. Ernesto had proved immune, however, much to her disappointment.

Shaking her head, Ginny whispered, "The rest of the pictures must've been frightful to pick that one. My mum's going to go into mourning about my looking like I don't know how to comb my hair."

Malfoy grunted, presumably in agreement, and Ginny said, "Still, it'll make the one of Pansy look all the better, I suppose. Not that she really needs the enhancement."

Malfoy was giving her an odd look, but she ignored him as his mother moved to stand in front of the final stand, her wand just barely touching the drape.

"For too long, the fashion world has been dominated by outdated standards. Today's women aren't going to settle for the fashions of their grandmothers. We believe that the Lush Witch is a real woman who knows what she wants and takes it, no matter what stands in her way. Nothing but the best is acceptable and so, if it's not Lush, it's nothing."

She removed the drape with a dramatic flourish accompanied by a tumult of light from frantically snapping camera flashes.

Ginny would have really liked to scream, but a number of the cameras were being turned her way, so she tried to appear calm, despite feeling like all the blood in her body had rushed to her cheeks. She ducked her head, partly to shield her eyes from the glare of the flash and partly to avoid looking at the displayed advertisement. What on earth had possessed her to go along with that? Surely she couldn't have been that affected by sleep deprivation? Maybe it wasn't really her. Maybe they'd put Pansy in a red wig and done an identical shoot.

And maybe Arthur Weasley would become Minister of Magic, or Beelzebub would need to stock up on firewood and heavy winter clothes.

Ginny winced as she looked up again, confirming that it was indeed Ginny Weasley's bum on display, with a tattoo of an ouroboros just above it. The snake twined around itself, but occasionally stopped biting its tail long enough to flick its tongue out at anyone watching.

As for the girl herself, she was standing on a red carpet with one leg crossed in front of the other and her arms at her side. Sometimes she would twist slightly, or bring her hands to her hips, but mostly she simply stood still, regally overlooking a blurred theater premiere with many lights and adoring fans moving indistinctly in the background. Thankfully some of her form was hidden by shadowed photographers and fans in the foreground, but not enough.

And what moved the picture beyond mere naughtiness and into the realm of ‘I'm-never-going-to-stop-blushing-ever’ was when the Ginny in the picture would peek back over her shoulder and share a wicked little smile with the picture viewer. It seemed so intimate, like she was sharing a great joke with each viewer as an individual, and then she gave a saucy wink just as the slogan for the line scrolled across the picture.

She buried her head in her hands and hoped for the earth to open and swallow her right then and there.

Narcissa continued, "This concludes our press conference. If you would like to use any of these photos in your publications, please contact our Executive Director of Public Relations and he will see that negatives are sent to you. Thank you for your time and watch for Lush Couture to hit stores everywhere."

Ginny looked at Malfoy. He could not let those negatives go out to every wizarding paper. Her family, oh Sweet Merlin, her mother would kill her.

"Malfoy, in the name of all that's magical, please don't send those negatives out."

He looked at her like she was completely mad. "Don't send them out? That red carpet shot is to be THE image for Lush Couture. Mother wants it on every tag, every store display."

She could feel the blood draining out her face. "How could you both DO this? I…I was half asleep during that shoot! I would never okay my bum being shown all over England. Are you people mad?"

Malfoy smiled and flipped open the leather folder he always carried. Rifling through the papers, he pulled out a small stack. "I told Mother you wouldn't remember signing the release."

He handed the papers to her, "Here are your copies of the release forms you signed, authorizing Lush to use any and all of the photos from your shoot."

Ginny took the paper from him cautiously, as if it might bite, and he looked her over critically.

"Weasel, even after that potion you look knackered. Take the rest of the day off and go get some sleep. No good having our cover girl look like death warmed over."

With that he snapped the folder closed and wandered off to schmooze with the press, who were still hanging around snapping pictures of Ginny and speculating amongst themselves.

Ginny sat in shocked silence for a moment. She read over the release which, indeed, had her signature scrawled at the bottom. Yep, there was “unrestricted right and permission to use, re-use, publish, republish and reprint any photos” and “the undersigned permits the use of these images on any printed material including but not limited to advertisement, product branding, logos and/or promotional materials”.

How could she have been so stupid? She felt tears threatening to well up and so she sat, focusing on deep breaths.

She saw feet come towards her, pause and then walk away. At one point, she thought she saw Narcissa’s Italian leather-clad feet approaching, but thankfully someone intercepted her and led her off in another direction.

Maybe she could just wait until the press left.

Maybe not.

She looked up as a bright light illuminated her and was momentarily blinded. She could barely make out the recording wand being thrust at her.

The blond wizard holding it smiled in a way eerily reminiscent of Gilderoy Lockhart. "Miss Weasley, I'm Jack Tetch from Amusement Tonight and I just had a few questions about your new career."



~End Chapter Seven~

Whee, there's review responses, awesome artwork to share (Twinkly did this! Go give her love at her LJ.), AND an actual chapter update. Y'all are going to get spoiled. ;)




Chapter Eight – Sharks With Microphones




Ginny had no idea how long she stood there, blinking stupidly at the microphone. The words "questions" and "new career" kept repeating in her head but they weren't really making any sense. It was a relief to feel a strong hand on her arm, guiding her away from the lights and attention.

Somewhere, probably close by but heard as if at a great distance, she heard a voice saying, "Miss Weasley would be thrilled to grant an interview but perhaps in a few minutes? We have some business to attend to. If you will wait right here, I will have someone escort you to a conference room, which will be more comfortable for all involved."

That snapped her out of it. "What! No, Draco! I am not doing an interview!" After her initial outburst, her voice dropped to the "Don't even try it" hiss that always worked on her brothers. "Get rid of them! This is ridiculous -- new career! Just because I posed for some photos - "

His voice was just barely audible as he said, "Not in front of the press, Weasel dearest."

She looked around to see all of the eager faces and clenched her teeth against the urge for more protestations. An attempt to free her arm made it clear that it would require causing a scene to make it happen, and so she allowed the prince of gits to guide her into a small office.

Calmly, patiently, she waited for the exact moment the door closed. Once the lock clicked and a locking and silencing charm was muttered by Draco, she let loose a scream that would have done a banshee proud. "Just what did you think you were doing out there? Are you mad?"

He sighed and fixed her with a look that clearly said 'Why must I be burdened with this idiotic girl?' "Weasel. Kindly sit down and shut up before I am forced to hex you into silent immobility."

Much to her shame, she sat.

"Now, your debut as the face, among other parts, of Lush's new lingerie line has caused quite a stir. You wouldn't want to ruin all the good publicity we are getting out there, would you? Not to mention putting quite a stain on your employment record here with us."

She shook her head.

"We will keep this simple, since you have had so little sleep, and I am none too confident of your cognitive abilities even when you're fully rested. All you have to do is…" He trailed off to look her over, and she was torn between the urges to blush and slap him. Finally he said, "Just... Go out there and act like a model."

"What, eat two bites and then force myself to vomit? Oh, I know, smoke like a chimney and drink like a fish! Or, wait, maybe I should dress in a cobweb, rouge my nipples and then attach myself to a rich pretty boy with a better manicure than most society matrons." She tilted her head and batted her lashes. "After all, everyone loves an ambiguously feminine lad, and who cares if he has a personality as long as he has money?"

His eyes narrowed dangerously and he growled - actually growled! Her outward response was to look both shocked at his level of annoyance and a bit cornered. Her inward response - well, she would think about where that response had registered at a much, much later time, after a whole lot of sleep.

"We'll just assume you're delirious from lack of sleep and let that go, shall we? Drink this," he said, shoving a Pepper-Up Potion into her hand, "and then get out there and create some good buzz for Lush. They aren't going to ask you anything taxing, like your views on the Galleons exchange rate or the Minister of Magic's current line on troll relations."

She downed the potion in one gulp, hoping it would help a little. Her life had been taking a decidedly surreal slant of late. "Pity, since I have plenty to say on those topics."

It seemed there was no getting out of it, so she waited for Draco to remove the charms on the door and took a deep breath. Opening the door, she was immediately blinded by an explosion of flashes.

"There she is!"

"Miss Weasley, over here!"

"Any comment for the Quibbler?"

"How does it feel to be THE most talked about model in the world?"

"What have your parents said about all this?"

She wanted to hide. Or run. Or both. Unfortunately, her few halting steps away from the slavering horde did nothing, unless smacking right into Draco counted for something.

Leaning in close, he whispered, "One foot in front of the other. Just smile and walk. Walk and smile. Right up the stairs and to your first press conference in the Board's conference room. I'll deal with these piranhas..."

He'd deal with...? The potion must have been working because her reaction time would have done a hopped-up pixie proud. She clutched behind her for his arm, hissing, "No, Draco. Please don't..."

"...After I get you settled. I'm right here, Weasel. I won't let them smother you."

Ginny didn't know what to think, and in any case there was nothing she could force herself to say. She'd dealt with the press before, often, but this was different. They weren't asking her about her job, which she was passionate about, but rather about herself - and she wasn't altogether sure, if she told them, that she'd like what they made of it. She continued to hold his arm tightly, burrowing close to his side and taking a comfort in being loomed over that she would never admit to in a thousand years. He steered her through the room and she just smiled as best she could, trying not to look as terrified as she felt.

They finally broke through the crowd and he paused just before opening the door to look down at her face. A very large part of her wanted to plead with him to stay with her, but before she could humiliate herself so utterly, he leaned in close, his lips almost brushing her ear. "Did modeling melt your spine?"

The body part in question stiffened and she turned slightly to glare at him from approximately an inch away. "Fuck off."

"Try not to show the reporters your crude side," he said, a tiny and infuriating smile hovering over the edge of his lips. "I think Mother is trying to bill you as sweet and unspoiled."

With that he opened the door and shoved her inside by giving her bum a pat, just like the ones her brothers would give her before a quidditch match. Her head snapped around to give him one last glare and he smirked before closing the door, leaving her to deal with Narcissa and the reporters that had been chosen to conduct this all-important first encounter with the press.

It's just another press meeting. You've done this before; you can do it again. Head held high, Ginny strode to the dais at the front of the room, radiating a confidence she wished she felt. She took her place next to Narcissa and tried not to look at the array of microphones before her, ready to catch her every word. With a smile, she asked, "Well, who would like to ask the first question?"

Ten questions came at her at once but she had already selected which one she would answer first. "Yes, the young woman in the blue suit."

The other reporters glared at the mousy woman who stood, blushing. She flipped through pages of her tiny notebook before smiling hesitantly at Ginny. "Magdala Ballard, Circe's Closet. Um, having never modeled before, were you nervous during the shoot or did it come easily?"

The knot in her stomach vanished at that question. She could do this. Before she even knew what she intended to say, she had spun some glib response about Ernesto's great talent and what an honor it was to be able to work with such a renowned artist for her very first shoot. The questions that followed were equally easy on her over-taxed and under-rested brain.

What designers did she like?

Thank goodness she had started to pay attention to such things since working here. She rattled off two or three she thought did interesting but highly wearable work.

Did she really use Lush cosmetics?

But of course, with sensitive skin like hers it was so vital to moisturize while providing protection from the sun's damage. She fielded a few related questions about her favorite shades from the newly released palette and her signature scent from Lush's line of perfumes.

She snuck a few glances at Narcissa, particularly after a question about the new line which Ginny thought she answered with just enough detail not to be considered evasive, and not enough to tell the press the first thing about the new and now hotly-anticipated line. Narcissa's smile never wavered and after the first few questions, she had sat back, sipping her cup of tea, content that Ginny could handle this on her own. Ginny was just thinking how well things were going when the mousy reporter from Circe's Closet raised her hand again. Ginny's careless nod brought her to her feet, a strangely intense look in her eye. "What can you tell us about your relationship with Draco Malfoy?"

"Nothing!" yelped Ginny. She shot a nervous glance at Narcissa, who continued to look impassive. "I mean, there is no relationship between me and Draco Malfoy."

The reporter adjusted her glasses and said, "He was certainly solicitous--"

"We're colleagues," said Ginny quickly. "Of course we have to have a good working relationship, but--"

"So there is a relationship," said the reporter triumphantly, making Ginny regret having helped her find her spine.

Ginny chanced another look at Narcissa, who was now frowning ever so slightly. "All of us here at Lush work together very closely, not only to make the best products, but also to make this the best place to work. That most certainly includes providing a friendly atmosphere, but it tends to be our policy to discourage romantic entanglements between employees."

"I see," said the girl, casting a glance at Narcissa while scribbling furiously in her notebook. "Thank you so much for your time." Ginny nodded, smothering a sigh of relief that the girl had finally dropped the ludicrous thought that there could ever be anything between a Weasley and a Malfoy.

The rest of the press conference was unremarkable, filled with more questions about her favorite products, possible plans for more modeling, and even a rather inane question about her favorite flavor of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans.

When she thought she couldn't answer another question, Narcissa mercifully came to her rescue.

"And that concludes our press conference. Thank you so much for being here and I look forward to seeing your write-ups in your respective publications. Now, if you'll excuse us, I think Miss Weasley could use a rest after such a busy day."

Narcissa gestured for Ginny to step down from the dais and she obeyed, following behind her without another word to the clamoring reporters.

The hallway was silent except for the staccato tap of two pairs of heels, Narcissa taking the lead the minute they were out of the conference room. Ginny was content to trot along in her wake, ears still echoing with shouted questions and the whirr of camera shutters. She was really rather tired, she thought. Strike that -- she was knackered and the mere thought of sleep - at home, in her soft, welcoming bed - was enough to make her want to cry right now.

Chapter Nine - Bleary, Beset, & Bombarded

Ginny scrunched her toes against her flannel sheets, her eyes still blissfully closed as she reveled in the wonder of a good night's sleep in her very comfortable bed. This was going to be a great day, she could feel it. After the horror of the previous day, which had actually been a thirty-six hours long, she was due. She had been so wrung out after the press conference that she could remember trailing along behind Narcissa and actually falling asleep leaning on a wall when her boss had stopped to talk to someone.

After shaking her awake, Narcissa had sent her home with strict orders not return to work for the rest of the week, saying something about unavailability being the ultimate mystique. She had also said to come see her immediately when she returned to discuss some administrative changes at Lush. Ginny remembered her having a rather devious gleam in her eye when she said that last bit.

I should be worried about that gleam. But it's still too early to be worried.

Ginny stretched lazily and opened one eye to peer at the clock. It's...oh, three in the afternoon.

She threw her blankets back and managed sit up. As she contemplated the seemingly insurmountable effort required to get to the shower, she realized she had no idea what day it was. How long had she been asleep? And why did she feel as if she were forgetting something important?

The answers would have to wait until after she'd had a shower, because she felt like she'd been rolled in filth and she was fairly sure her breath would poison anyone within ten feet of her. She shuffled into the bathroom and turned the tap on high before stepping into the steaming water. Deciding to treat herself, she used the super-expensive Lush Desserts body wash, letting the magical lather not only clean but also exfoliate, moisturize, and add a healthy glow to her skin. All that with a smell like her favorite cookies; their advertisements were true, using good toiletries from Lush really did make the world a better place, or at least make it seem that way.

Going the whole hog, Ginny stepped out of the shower and got out her tiny bottle of Lush's Absolute Best Ever hair potion, which she rubbed into her hair before pulling on a processing cap to enhance the potion's effects. She washed her hands of the remnants and then washed her face (although not without a small feeling of guilt as instead of a Lush product, she was using Sirens Thousand Ship Launching You!, which was a lot more effective in reducing her freckles than anything Lush provided, even if it didn't have as good a moisturizing effect).

Pulling on a short silk robe, she padded out of the bathroom with her toothbrush still hanging from her mouth, being moved around desultorily as she walked. The nagging feeling she was forgetting something had only gotten worse, and as she left the cloud of sweetly scented steam slowly wafting out into her bedroom, she finally decided to think about it. Without any deliberate speed, she made her way out to the kitchen, only to shriek as she laid eyes on her enchanted calendar. The day of the press conference had been marked off, meaning she hadn't woken up that afternoon but had slept through the night and into the next day... And the flashing red letters indicated she was already ten minutes late for dinner at the Burrow.

Ginny swore, though the effect was quite muffled by the toothbrush, and started frantically brushing. In one smooth motion she turned to sprint to her room, but at an insistent knock at the door she kept right on spinning, executing a neat 360 and lunging for the door handle. Since this wasn't the first time a brother had been sent to fetch a tardy sibling, she threw open the door expecting a horde of red-haired siblings. She got a single blond instead.

Taking in her foam-covered mouth, he dryly asked, "Gone rabid, have we?"

“Glurb?” She’d forgotten her mouth was full of toothpaste and nearly choked. Her coughing sent it dribbling in a foamy smear down her cheek and onto her neck.

With a gulp and a grimace, she swallowed the minty mess and shoved the door closed. "I don't have time for you, Malfoy!"

The latch had barely clicked when the knob turned and Malfoy walked right in. She decided that, first thing in the morning, she was getting automatic door locks, and maybe a ward. "Has anyone ever mentioned what a charming hostess you are?"

"I'm not your hostess, I'm your trespassee, and since I'm currently late, you can bugger off." Ginny called from her bedroom, frantically digging through her closet for something suitable to wear to the Burrow. She tossed a few possible outfits onto her bed.

Fishing some clean underthings out of a cluttered drawer, she started to take off her robe before realizing that retreat to the bathroom might be a good idea. Once safely in the still-steamy room, she grabbed a damp washcloth to wipe away the toothpaste trail while attempting to simultaneously wiggle into her panties. She paused, but heard no sound from the other side of the door and hurriedly dropped her robe to put on her bra. It which didn't match, but who would see? she thought, nudging the bathroom door open.

"You do realize you're matching stripes and plaid, right? Although why anyone would have plaid knickers--" She started to throw her robe at him, but thought better of it, slipped it back on, and scooped up the nearest projectile instead.

Malfoy easily dodged the shoe she chucked at him, which quivered as it hung from the spike heel imbedded in the drywall. "I stand corrected. It's a bold fashion statement, really."

Clutching her robe tighter, Ginny scowled at the man making faces at the outfits she had tossed onto her bed.

“Do you mind? I'm trying to get dressed here.”

“That you are, but it’s not like I haven’t seen it before. I have; after yesterday everyone in Great Britain has.”

Scanning the items on the bed, she settled on a respectable black dress that fell below the knee and had a modest scoop neck. "Did I mention that I'd like you to bugger off?" she said loudly, turning her back on him as she dropped her robe and pulled the dress over her head.

"I do believe you did," he said. "And yet, I haven't."

"All right, then, how about pissing off? I'd even go so far as to say you could fuck off," said Ginny, now kneeling to look through her shoes for the mate to the low-heeled black pump she held. "Just so long as you catch the common theme of going away."

She felt him moving behind her, and then the cap was pulled off her hair. "I'd ask if you have a hot date, but even you would know better than to dress like a nun if you're trying to actually attract a man."

"Thanks," she said distractedly, running a hand through her wet hair before returning to the quest for the elusive shoe among the multitudes at the bottom of her closet. The next day, she was going to give away half of her shoes. Or maybe she'd just find a way to organize them. "If you're not going to scarper, be useful and dry my hair, will you?"

He actually complied, casting a charm that had her hair dry and coiling around her head to form an elegant chignon within seconds. "I need to talk to you about something important, Weasley. If you can take some time away from your present madness."

"Ah-HAH!" She stood up, holding the shoe aloft triumphantly, then bent down to slip it onto her foot. "Look, I don't have time right now - if I'm not at my mum's table five minutes ago, she's liable to send one of the horde after me."

Moving past him at a fast pace, she picked up her wand and removed the charm holding her hair up. It fell down over her shoulders in a straight sweep and she ran a hand over it before nodding in satisfaction.

Draco watched this with arms crossed. "That was actually quite flattering on you. Now you look twelve."

"Good," she said. "That's just the way my mum likes it."

She raised her wand to disapparate, then paused. "Look, you were somewhat helpful, or at least not a total arse, so I'll floo you when I get back from my mum's, okay? Then you can tell me whatever it is you wanted. Lock up after yourself, all right?" And with that, she disapparated to the Burrow.

---

The instant Ginny arrived, she knew something wasn't right; there was no noise, and the air seemed wrong. After a second she identified that it smelled like burned food, and that's when her stomach sank to her toes. "Is someone dead?"

"We might as well be," said her mother with a sniff. "At least to you."

Oh, Lord, it was something she'd done. And, with a chill running down her back, Ginny realized exactly what it was. "Mum, I'm sorry, I was tired and a bit sick and I didn't think they'd really use my pictures--"

"I could forgive that," said Molly, shocking the hell out of her daughter. Wiping her eyes on a dishtowel, she continued in a wavering voice, "I just don't understand why you didn't tell me that you were seeing someone!"

Ginny blinked. "I'm what?"

"Oh, Ginny, you don't have to lie, it's all over the magazines. Witch Weekly, Circe's Closet, even in the Daily Prophet! I just wish I hadn't been the last to know!"

Ginny's mind was spinning and she wondered if there was a casual way to ask to see a copy, because she was totally at sea.

Her mother sniffled pitifully. "I mean, I know you'd be worried we wouldn't approve, and with good reason, but to not even tell me about this boy being in your life! No, to lie, making a big fuss about how awful he is, just because you don't trust your old mum to want you to be happy! It breaks my heart, Ginny, it really does, and I just don't know what I've done to make you feel this way."

This didn't sound good at all, especially since the only person Ginny could remember describing as awful was the one she had left behind in her flat. "Mum, I do trust you, I do, there was just nothing to tell."

This did not reassure Molly, but rather set her to wailing. The noise attracted the others, who stormed in en masse, shouting.

"What do you think you're doing, showing your arse to the entire world?" demanded Ron, his freckles disappearing into the livid outrage blotching his face.

Percy was the next she could hear above the hullabaloo, chiming in with, "Do you realize how awkward it is for me at the office? Half my coworkers have your picture hanging up in their cubicles, and the boys in the mailroom have a bloody poster!"

"What were you thinking?" That was Fred, which meant...

George continued with, "Gin, surely you weren't that hard up for money, were you?"

"It was Malfoy, wasn't it? I told you that none of them are any good," said Arthur with a scowl.

Oh, of course it's Malfoy. He must've put me up to it, or maybe his mother did. After all, it's not like I'm an adult or anything, capable of making my own choices.

Just before Ginny said all those thoughts out loud, it occurred to her that appearing to leap to Malfoy's defense wasn't going to do a lot for her insistence that she wasn't seeing him. Biting back a groan of irritation, she also realized that in this din, no one would hear her anyway.

Ron's agonized wail could be heard, "There are posters?", nearly drowning out the hurt muttering of the twins.

"You could have asked us for a loan. We wouldn't have said no…"

"Not to our baby sister. Geez, Gin. You didn't have to…"

"…Lower yourself to this."

Thankfully that little train of conversation was drowned out by Molly's loud insistence that her husband not refer to their future son-in-law that way. Which way Ginny wasn't sure, having missed his comment. It was probably just as well.

The rest of the kitchen had fallen silent for a moment at the words 'future son-in-law', before erupting into even more frenzied alarums. Ron had turned a sickly pea green and started moaning about preferring death, while the twins had their wands out and would have charged off to find Malfoy had Percy not cast a leglocker curse on them both. They let out a howl as they toppled to the ground, which caused Arthur to spin around and nearly poke his own eye out with the finger Molly had been waving in his face.

Ginny was ready to apparate right back home and deal with the fallout later when the kitchen became eerily silent. Everyone was still moving their mouths and scowling, but no sound was coming out. The reason was soon clear, as Hermione removed the leglocker curse from the twins and then made her way through the sea of annoyed Weasleys, calmly ignoring the glares directed at her.

She patted Ginny's arm carefully, much like one would pet nervous poodle with a tendency to nip, then smiled beatifically at the red faces before her. "Perhaps we could let Ginny speak?"

When every head nodded, she removed the silencing charm with a wave of her wand and turned, along with everyone else, expectantly towards Ginny.

Barely a moment later, her mother asked, in a voice still shaky from the crying and yelling, "Well?"

Ginny closed her eyes for a moment before taking a deep breath and starting down the list. "Thank you, Hermione. Now, as for your questions…"

She held up a finger. "First -- I am NOT dating Malfoy. I am not seeing him, I do not want to be seeing him and I do despise him every bit as much as you thought, Mum. I am disappointed that you all believed that rubbish."

"Second," she didn't even bother to disguise her sarcastic tone as she glared at Ron. "I thought I was doing my job, and I didn't, as you so delicately put it, 'show my arse to everyone'. I am sure there are a number of Muggles who haven't seen the ads, as well as at least one wizarding community, albeit in a remote corner of Tibet."

Ron's face grew even redder and he muttered, "I wouldn't bet on it."

"No interruptions,” she snapped, realizing she wasn’t just annoyed – she was angry. Really, truly furious.

“Third, for Heaven's sake, Percy, lighten up. One of these days you're going to have an aneurysm. Fourth, I am not 'hard up', nor did I 'lower myself" to doing anything and wizards who know what's good for them would refrain from using any of those terms about me in the future."

“Fifth, no one forced to do anything. I am,” her mind was reeling and her next words surprised even her, “PROUD of those pictures. They’re lovely and make me look lovely. I’ve been given an amazing opportunity to try something new. I don’t think I am going to take up modeling full time, but it was fun to try. And as the new face of Lush, I am…I’m going to get to go places and see things and meet all kinds of people, important people – heads of other companies, publishers, news editors, that I never would as an executive assistant.” She was on a roll and plunged right into the heart of the issue, the one thing they never discussed.

“I'm sorry, okay? I'm sorry that you were embarrassed or shocked or hurt but mostly, I am really sorry that you are all so busy trying to protect the baby of the family, so busy trying to shelter and coddle me and keep me from ever interacting with the real world that you can’t see how wonderful this is and be happy for me. Or even be happy with me…”

Her anger had run out, leaving her feeling hollow and flushed, tears welling up in her eyes. "I don’t even know why I am crying. I just…I’m exhausted. It’s been a crazy week and I didn’t really expect the Inquisition to be waiting.”

She cast a pitiful look at her mother, “Can we just eat? I haven't had any proper food since the day before yesterday and I'm starved. You can all yell at me as much as you like if I can just get some dinner first."


~End Chapter Nine~

Chapter Ten – The Hottest Old Woman in England


All of Molly's maternal instincts leapt to the fore as soon as Ginny mentioned hunger, and the inquisition came to a complete halt as Molly clucked over her poor underfed daughter and glared at anyone who opened their mouths to say anything further. Dinner was thus peaceful, albeit full of uncomfortable silences and sentences half-said, left to hang in the air over the table, when the speaker realized that would only start another fight and he'd be the one banished from the table.

Molly, after recovering from her initial shock, was thrilled at the idea of her baby being an internationally known model and willing to at least pretend to believe her daughter wasn't carrying on a wild affair with the Malfoy boy. She had never been quite sure what to make of Ginny's work at that company of Narcissa's, cooped up in an office and never meeting anyone special. Here, at last, was something she could proudly say her daughter was doing with her time, and that had the potential for Ginny to meet an international playboy who would fall madly in love with her and reform his wicked ways to settle down with her and raise a family. Hermione and Ginny exchanged a glance at that statement that was full of the shared conviction that Molly read too many romance novels.

Her siblings still weren't thrilled with the nature of her modeling, but it settled down to a few cracks about her famous bum, which was par for the Weasley course in terms of teasing one another. Even her father seemed mollified, and by the time dinner was over he was talking excitedly about what great business experience she'd gain, and about what Muggle souvenirs she could get for him if she traveled to various countries.

At long last she was ready to head home, stuffed to the gills and exhausted, but with everyone in her family still speaking to her. She had even quietly managed to extract a promise from Hermione to get full details on what had happened before she arrived at the Burrow during their lunch hours the next day.

She apparated back to her flat wanting nothing more than to fall face-first back into bed. Her evening routine was too thoroughly ingrained, though, and so she changed into a robe, scraped her hair back into a loose bun and applied a Galatea Marble Mask she’d gotten a free in the owl post (guaranteed to erase the signs of stress from her face in just ten minutes!). Only two minutes in, with the knots in her muscles just starting to loosen, she remembered her promise to floo Draco. "Bugger."

Well, she might need to keep her promise, but she certainly wasn't going to bother making herself pretty for him. Mask still on, she went over to the hearth and lit a fire before tossing in some floo powder. "Draco Malfoy," she called out, then stuck her head in the flames.

He was home…with Pansy Parkinson, and Ginny rather wished she wasn't currently wearing something green and goopy. As they both looked up at her, Pansy looking distinctly irritated, Ginny said, "When you're not busy, Malfoy, ring me back and tell me whatever it was you wanted to tell me. Ciao."

Just as she ended the call, and before she could put the fire out, someone tumbled through the fireplace and knocked her over. "Oh, Miss Weasley, it's such an honor to meet you!"

Ginny clutched the neck of her dressing gown and stared. "That's nice, but, who are you and why are you in my house?"

"I'm Johnny... John," he corrected himself in a deeper voice. "John Anderson. I saw your fireplace listed and I just wanted to tell you how much I admire you, all the boys do, and, er, ask whether you'd go to the Yule Ball with me."

Ginny couldn't hide her confusion, partially due to the fact the end of his statement had tumbled out in a nervous rush. "Yule Ball?"

Johnny - er, John - shuffled nervously from foot to foot. "You know, for the Triwizard Tourney Hogwarts is hosting this year. You were there for the last one, weren't you? It said in your biography that you went to school with Harry Potter!"

"Of course I did," she snapped, a little more harshly than she meant to. Slightly more calmly, or at least not quite as close to shouting, she said, "That still begs the question, do I know you? And why are you in my living room? Also, would you mind helping me up?"

"Oh! So sorry!" He extended a hand and helped her regain her feet and then stood there, a daft smile across his face, still holding her hand.

"Ahem." When he looked at her in puzzlement, she tugged and said archly, "My hand?"

The young wizard released her hand with an embarrassed cough. "Oh, er, um, no, we haven't met, but since you were listed on the floo, I thought..." The boy's confident facade was rapidly deserting him and leaving behind a face as red as human skin could get.

Ginny sighed. "Look, Johnny-- John," she corrected herself. "I'm very flattered, but I'm a bit too old for you, and--"

"You're not that much older!" he said, and she almost found it in her heart to forgive his intrusion. "And besides, you’re really really hot for an older lady!"

All thoughts of forgiveness were now completely gone. "Thank you," she said icily. "But I think I'll be declining your gracious offer. Now, if you would just--" Her fireplace flared again and she broke off to snap, "Isn't an old woman going to be allowed a moment's peace?"

"For an old woman, you have scandalously young tastes in guests."

She could hear the smirk without even turning around and smothered the urge to groan. Hadn't she told him to ring, not pop by? Determined to get rid of at least one of her unwelcome guests, Ginny said hurriedly, "John, again, thank you, but I can't attend the Yule Ball with you. Now I think you should probably be heading back."

He looked sad for a moment before shrugging. "Yeah, I thought as much. But hey - I've been in your flat. How cool is that?"

"Very cool," Draco agreed as he pushed the young man towards the floo. "Now scoot, you young scalawag."

John disappeared, but not before a final leer.

Draco studied the empty hearth for a moment before fixing her with a curious stare. "If you plan on having underage wizards over for playtime, I should probably warn our lawyers."

"They'd certainly have experience with that aspect of law, given your dating habits," Ginny said tartly.

"Weasley, dearest, have you never heard the phrase, 'do as I say, not as I do'?" He said with a smirk, holding up a battered bear. "By the way, you might want to find a better hiding spot for your toys. Underwear drawer? So cliché."

Ginny turned bright red. "You... You snoop!"

"Well, with you being such a poor hostess earlier, I had to find some way of entertaining myself," he said with a smirk. "I must say, it was a bit of a revelation..."

"Shut up!" Why had she left him alone in her flat? But thank God the bear was all he'd found, thanks to her extensive training at the hands of her brothers in the fine art of hiding embarrassing possessions. "Malfoy, only you would make finding a teddy bear sound dirty. And I've had Mister Snuggles since I was three, of course he doesn't look his best these days."

"Far be it from me to disparage your one-eyed teddy bear. I'll even consider helping you get him treatment for mange." He gave the bear what almost looked like a fond pat and carefully arranged him, leaning back against the couch cushions. "Much as I know you'd adore chatting with me all night, I did have something to say that actually matters."

"That'll be a nice change," muttered Ginny as she pulled at the tie of her dressing gown. It was secure, but somehow she still felt naked. "So what did you want? I want to go to bed."

Draco gave a theatrical gasp and put his hand to his cheek in a parody of modesty. "Why, Weasley, I'm just not that kind of boy!"

Her glare said it all and he held up his hands in surrender. "All right, all right, stop looking at me like that before you manage to bake that stuff on your face. I need your help."

"With what?" she asked, moving past him to get a washcloth from her bathroom.

She'd barely wiped off her forehead when he said, "There are some irregularities in the account books…"

The washcloth had flown through the air to splat against his face, cutting him off mid-word. Ginny had stormed out of the bathroom and had her hands on her hips, her eyes blazing. "You get out of my house right now, Draco Malfoy! If you want to make sordid accusations--"

"I'd make them," he finished sharply. "I'm here because I know for a fact you're not the one doing it, and I need help finding out who is."

"Oh." Feeling a bit deflated, she went back into the bathroom and dampened another washcloth to finish wiping off her face. Still wiping, she came out to frown at him and ask, "How do you know it's not me? Checked me out first, did you?"

He rolled his eyes. "I know you're not the one embezzling because it would never occur to you to steal."

Outrage welled up anew and she tossed the washcloth she was holding onto the sink as she charged further out into the living room. "So now I'm not smart enough to embezzle?"

"Don't be so bloody-minded," he said irritably. "It would never occur to you to steal because your morals are forged out of tempered steel. You'd no sooner take something that's not yours than... than stick your wand up your nose and sing 'Rule Britannia' in the middle of Diagon Alley while standing on one foot and wearing a clown costume."

Ginny pondered that, and eventually decided it wasn't actually an insult. "Thank you, I think."

Draco held out her washcloth, holding the fabric between two fingers and as far from his body as possible. She reclaimed it and finished wiping the last remnants of goop from her face, all the while something prodding at the back of her mind.

"Draco," she asked finally, looking him straight in the eyes, "why did you come all the way over here to tell me about embezzlement? Why didn't you go straight to your mother? It's not my job to look into internal affairs, I'm only a glorified secretary."

"Only a--" Draco cut himself off to look at her steadily. Something made his lips twitching into what almost resembled a smile before the usual cool, appraising expression settled over his features. "You know what? Never mind. So sorry to bother you on your day off."

"What? No, you can't build me up like this and leave me hanging!" Ginny barely managed to stop herself from stamping a foot and pouting, especially once she saw his leer and thought about what she'd said. "Oh, just shut up and leave. I don't want to hear from you anyway."

"Of course," he said with a nod, before turning to leave. At the hearth, he paused. "Remind me to get you an unlisted floo. Teasing aside, I assume you'd prefer not to have random, lust-crazed males popping into your living room at all hours."

Still somewhat piqued by what had been one long argument of a day, Ginny didn't even think before her mouth formed a retort. "You mean, you won't know my floo number either?"

Draco actually chuckled. "Always the charmer. Get some rest, Weasley. See you bright and early tomorrow, when we'll discuss the books and why you're using a non-Lush product for your face. After you see my mother, though, because she wants you to report to her as soon as you get in."

With that, he left as abruptly as he had arrived, leaving her alone to worry about uninvited visitors and the far more terrifying prospect of what Narcissa Malfoy wanted to see her for first thing tomorrow morning.


~End Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven – Monday Morning Surprises

Ginny wasn't sure what she was expecting. It seemed a lifetime ago she had last walked through the doors of Lush.

She nearly fell over when she was greeted by the entire company - literally and one at a time. The walk to her office took twice as long as usual since everyone, from directors to the guy who cleaned the company owlery, felt a need to wish her a good morning, offer her coffee, or inquire about her weekend.

She had no idea being on a few covers was such a big deal. She'd been in the paper before, front page no less, but perhaps there was a difference between being part of the crowd around Harry and being out there all by herself. Shaking off the last few bootlickers in Narcissa's outer office, Ginny took a deep breath and tried to gather her thoughts.

The most pressing was that someone was going to be appointed to be in charge of the new line, and she'd have to get along with them for as long as her new modeling career lasted. Simmons from research had been getting restless with the limits on advancement opportunities, so he might get the nod, although she didn't think he was flexible enough to handle the startup phase of the new division.

It'd more likely be Katie from marketing, who was charming and witty and hid a mind like a steel trap behind a face constantly wreathed in smiles. The thought of having to work with her made Ginny grimace though, since the woman had a habit of cutting down all the other women in the vicinity just to make herself look better in comparison.

It would've been wonderful if Ginny could have taken over the line herself, since she felt a certain proprietary interest in it already. She knew everything about the line's progress so far, and, of course, her bum was intimately connected with the creation of the line. Still, Ginny knew her strengths and weaknesses, and she knew she didn't have anywhere near enough experience in marketing and product development to serve as the executive in charge of Lush Couture. Of all the times in her life that Ginny regretted being young and inexperienced, this one ranked pretty high.

The only comfort she had was that Malfoy wouldn't be put in charge either. Narcissa would never allow nepotism to trump business, and while her son was brilliant at creating advertising campaigns (Ginny could be dispassionate enough to allow that, although it'd take a lot for her to admit it out loud), he was absolutely wretched at administration. Among other things, someone needed to stop him from dating every nubile female in the building before one of them took it into her head to cry sexual harassment.

"Mz. Weasley, good morning!" Carissa chirped with feigned warmth. "Mz. Malfoy wants to see you first thing. Go right on in."

Funny, Carissa didn't seem to be under the Imperius Curse, but what else could explain the sudden attitude adjustment?

Still puzzling over the change, Ginny could only stand, shocked and dazed, as the entire executive board gave her a standing ovation the moment she entered Narcissa's office. She looked to her normally austere boss for some explanation but she was clapping, albeit demurely, along with the rest. Even Draco offered a clap or two.

"Here she is – our woman of the hour!" Narcissa gestured for Ginny to join her. "I should have waited until you returned, but I was so excited to get Lush Couture underway that I simply couldn't."

Ginny mumbled something noncommittal, mind still frantically trying to make sense of the scene before her.

Narcissa smiled and patted her on the arm, "I can't think of anyone better suited to help lead Lush into our new venture. Congratulations! Executive Director looks lovely on letterhead."

Draco offered what was quite possibly a genuine smile and held out his hand. "I look forward to working with you. I think our talents will balance each other nicely. Unless you don't want to share?"

She managed to shake his hand and offer a nod to the crowd of directors. Still smiling, she whispered between her teeth, "Share?"

Now that was the sort of smile she was used to, one that clearly said she was being exceptionally obtuse. "Of course. Mother has named us co-Directors of the new line."

The rest of the meeting passed in a blur as she tried to come to grips with this unexpected change of fortune. She did pick up the important points that she had a new office, adjacent to Draco's and just around the corner from Narcissa's, an assistant of her own (well, to be shared with Draco, but still), and a corporate expense account. At least, those were the points Draco thought important enough to tell her in the notes he spent most of the meeting slipping her way.

He also felt compelled to share that Katie, seated beside the Director of Marketing, looked particularly hag-like when angry and that the Director of Finance, a stodgy old wizard, obviously needed to add more fiber to his diet so he didn’t look continually constipated. Ginny was torn between inappropriate urges to giggle and reminding herself that glaring at Draco would probably send the wrong message about her willingness to work with him. For this opportunity, Ginny would've seriously considered working with Bellatrix Lestrange!

As the meeting concluded, Narcissa waited until the room cleared to outline her expectations. "I know you both need a little time to adjust to your new roles, which is why I went ahead and scheduled meetings with everyone who was involved in the initial research and discussion about the possibility of a Lush clothing line. Your assistant has the schedules; I expect a progress report and next steps on my desk first thing next week."

The clear tasks and looming deadline did the most marvelous things for Ginny's thinking and she found she was already ticking off things to be done as she answered. "Of course. I suppose I should find my new office and get started!"

Narcissa laid a hand on her shoulder, "Prove me right, Ginny. Prove it to the board."

Draco looked smug, but only for a moment as Narcissa took his face between her hands, gently shaking him as if he were still a wee tyke. He shot Ginny a cautioning glare, but she'd been subjected to the same treatment by her mother too often to take advantage, and glanced away quickly. Narcissa, meanwhile, was saying, "You too. I don't want anyone to be able to say you were given this simply because you happen to be my son.” She released him, but not without giving his cheek a pat. “I want to see you working twice as hard to prove them wrong."

And with that, she dismissed them and dove gracefully back into the fray, firing off instructions to an underling who leapt through the floo at her soft command.

Ginny was still sufficiently off-kilter that she allowed Draco to take her arm as he conducted her to their offices. They looked in on hers before going into his, and she absently noted that the décor for both was the same, a slightly less opulent version of Narcissa's office. Apparently someone was serious about making the point of her and Draco being equals, down to the number of landscapes on the walls. And about them working together, since there was a door connecting their offices without having to go out and pass their secretary's desk.

“I told Elle to come in later, since we were going to be tied up in that meeting anyway,” Draco said sitting on the empty desk in front of their offices. “She'll get you up to speed on your calendar, well, our calendar for the next week.”

Ginny’s mind was still reeling a bit, but she realized something quite important. “You knew! You knew about all of this Friday when you came to see me about that - ”

Before she could finish, Draco grabbed her arm and pulled her into his office. He shut the door and locked it, casting a silencing charm for good measure.

She raised an eyebrow. “Is that really necessary?”

“Perhaps not, but better safe than sorry. As of this moment, the only people that know anything about the…irregularities are you, me, and Elle.”

This was becoming ridiculously cloak and dagger. “Mostly you and Elle, as you haven’t really told me anything yet.”

“Fair enough. Look, I’d prefer not to discuss-- ” He was interrupted by a knock at the door. He seemed inclined to ignore it, but the door handle turned and, finding it locked, the person knocked again quite insistently. Draco sighed and motioned for Ginny to take a seat. “Give me a minute.”

Ginny looked around and quickly decided on the seating area off to one side of the office. It was out of sight of the door and she didn’t like the idea of sitting in front of his desk like a supplicant. She grabbed a magazine from the low table and idly flipped through it, trying not to listen in on what was becoming a heated conversation.

“No - I’m working…as you should be.”

“Draco, come on – Elle won’t be here for another half hour and you were stuck in that boring meeting for ages…” The door opened slightly, pushed from the other side.

The voice was female and Ginny thought she recognized it, in spite of the ridiculously petulant tone.

Draco reached out to stop the door from swinging all the way open. “I said no. I will see you tonight for dinner.”

“But, darling… It’s such a long time until dinner… and even longer before dessert.”

Draco’s grip on the door tightened, his knuckles whitening. “Carissa, stop.”

But she didn’t. She pushed at the door again, harder. Draco’s lips tightened into a thin line and he let go of the door.

“Fine.” It swung open and Ginny had the distinct pleasure of seeing Carissa’s face go pale as the woman caught sight of her. Ginny smiled pleasantly but couldn’t resist adding a wicked little wave.

Carissa’s eyes were flashing as she looked from Draco to Ginny, but she carefully forced herself to smile sweetly. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you were…busy.” She brushed some imaginary lint from Draco’s blazer and gave him a quick kiss. “See you tonight, then.”

She looked directly at Ginny for a long moment, as if reinforcing a point, before turning and flouncing off.

Draco actually looked a bit embarrassed as he relocked the door. It was an odd look on a face more given to smirks and sneers. “I apologize for the interruption.”

Ginny set down her magazine with a grin. “If I’m in the way of some tryst, I can leave. I bet you can still catch her if you run.”

“I would never - ” Draco snapped before catching himself. He took a deep breath and started again. “I'll have you know that I've never had a tryst, fling, affair, or any other euphemism you care to think of for hot sex while on company time or property, except for that one unfortunate incident in the break room. Contrary to popular opinion, I do actually work while I am here."

Ginny tried not a laugh at one of the most notorious playboys of the wizarding world defending his honor and work ethic. “You work. Duly noted,” she said nodding. “So you were saying…”

He moved to join her and she suddenly regretted choosing to sit there. There were folders and papers piled in the only chair and rather than move them, he simply joined her on the couch. She turned slightly so she was facing him, ignoring the fact that this also conveniently put a little more space between them.

“I was saying that I would rather not discuss that matter at the office. Not until we know more about just what’s going on. Are you free for lunch?”

“Not today, I have plans.”

Draco frowned slightly, “I believe we’re in lunch meetings the rest of this week…”

She wouldn’t normally have lifted a finger to be helpful or cooperative with Malfoy, but they were working together now. Besides, there was something a bit different about how he’d been acting recently – a nice difference, and one she'd like to encourage. “Well, you’re booked tonight and I have a ton of catching up to do… Maybe dinner, sometime later in the week? Is my place private enough for this super secret meeting?”

He actually smiled at that. "It should work. Besides I think the London Eye is all booked up for secret meetings. Friday is clear for me; see what your schedule looks like.”

There was another knock at the door, this time a staccato code-like rhythm. Draco rose to answer it. “That would be Elle. I hope you two will get on well, she's a very good assistant.”

“I am sure we will. Especially after she teaches me the secret knock,” Ginny added with a grin.

This morning she’d just been the girl with the famous bum. Now, two hours later, she was Co-Director of the new line and keeping her assistant waiting.

Well, she couldn’t complain that her life was boring.


~ End Chapter Eleven~

Chapter Twelve – Lifestyles of the Newly Promoted



Ginny was doubly surprised upon meeting the new secretary she was to share with Draco. The first surprise was that while she was quite pretty, she certainly wasn't the statuesque supermodel type Ginny was expecting Draco's secretary to be. The second shock was the plain gold band she wore on her left hand. It was very hard to imagine Draco choosing to work with a woman who was off-limits.

Elle caught her staring at the wedding band and laughed. "Not what you were expecting, Miss Weasley?"

Ginny blushed a little. "Sorry, that was rather rude of me. It's very nice to meet you."

"And you. Shall we get started? We have quite a bit to get done this morning." Elle stepped aside, waiting for Ginny to enter her office first before following her with an intimidatingly large pile of folders and papers that Ginny assumed was coming to live on her desk.

There was a large, steaming cup of coffee waiting on the desk blotter. Upon taking a sip, Ginny was surprised to find it was perfectly prepared – really perfect, perhaps even better than when she added the cream and sugar herself. "Well, we should have a good start with this to keep me going. Thank you."

Elle smiled, taking a seat in front of the desk. She opened a large leather volume and pulled out her wand. "Could I see your date book for a moment?"

"Of course," Ginny replied, rummaging around in her briefcase.

Elle opened it to the current week and said a quick incantation, tapping the pages of both books with her wand. "Just charming it to synch with mine," she explained. "I write appointments and meetings in the master copy and they automatically appear in yours and Mr. Malfoy's date books. It works the same in reverse for anything you schedule for business hours, so please be sure to record any appointments or personal time you schedule right away."

Ginny was fascinated as her the mostly empty pages of her date book filled with times and details. "Looks like I am going to be busy from now until sometime after Christmas!"

Elle laughed. "These aren't all meetings. Some are deadlines and details for other projects you simply need to be aware of in your planning. In any case, while it finishes, perhaps we can discuss your expectations?"

Her expectations. Huh. Ginny debated a few different responses but finally went for the truth.

"Elle, I am afraid I should probably ask you your expectations of me. I haven't ever had an assistant before and I didn’t actually get much experience being one – Ms. Malfoy always had me on one special project or another. Perhaps you should tell me what sorts of things Dra-, I mean, Mr. Malfoy usually has you do."

It was exactly the right thing to say, as Elle had very definite ideas about what sorts of things were a waste of Ginny's time and effort as a Co-Director. Her head was swimming by the time the pages of the date books stopped turning.

She turned her date book around so she could review her new obligations. "Oh, there is one thing I haven't added yet."

She wrote in her lunch with Hermione and saw it write itself, in hand much neater than her own, across the page of Elle's master schedule.

Elle glanced at the new item and nodded briskly. "I'll take care of that. If you'll turn to tomorrow's page, Miss Weasley, let's get started."

"Please, call me Ginny."

A brief flicker of disapproval crossed Elle's face and Ginny decided not annoy this Queen of the Assistants further by asking what about her lunch with Hermione needed to be “taken care of”. "I suppose when we are alone, 'Ginny' would not be wholly inappropriate. Now, if you'll notice you have an 8 a.m. meeting with the creative development team that's been working on the Couture line..."
As soon as actual business was involved, all of Ginny's doubts and insecurities disappeared - she was too busy for them. Elle left after about half an hour to carry out various tasks, and Ginny thought that it wasn't all that different from telling Carissa or Indira to go get things done. Well, apart from these being all her orders, and not directly on behalf of Narcissa.

She emerged from her paperwork only when her datebook emitted a soft chime, something it had never managed to do before. After poking at it suspiciously, Ginny decided it must've been something Elle added to remind her to check the darn thing. She opened it and it automatically flipped to the correct date, where her lunch with Hermione was now written in gold, sparkling ink. Checking the clock and noting she only had five minutes, Ginny cursed.

"Elle?" she called out as she started scribbling a note. "Elle, can you get me an owl? I need to get something to Hermione right away."

“An owl?” Elle appeared in the doorway looking perplexed.

Ginny hastily scrawled a note. “I’m going to be late to meet Hermione; it takes at least fifteen minutes to get to Soup & A Sam‘Witch.”

“Ms. Weasley? Err…Ginny?” Elle hastily corrected. “I took the liberty of making reservations for you and Miss Granger at Portique. We have an expense account with them.”

Ginny was a little lost. “I’m not sure my lunch with Hermione should go on the expense account. And I am still going to be late!”

“She is quite high in the International Magical Trading Standards Body and it is important that Lush stay abreast of the latest changes in import and export rules as well as the current policies on tariffs.” Elle smiled indulgently, as if Ginny really should have realized this herself. “I think maintaining your friendly relationship with her would count as a legitimate business expense, but if you are uncomfortable doing so, I can certainly make other arrangements for next time.”

“As for being tardy to your appointment...” Elle handed Ginny a small velvet box. “I don’t think that will be a problem. I sent one along to Ms. Granger earlier this morning.”

Ginny opened the lid to find a small silver column, Corinthian if she remembered her ancient architecture correctly. It couldn’t be what she thought it was.

“A portkey?”

Of all the indulgent nonsense…She’d heard some of Wizarding London’s more exclusive restaurants and shops had no visible doors at all, instead using portkeys to allow access to their select clientele. The idea seemed both silly and ridiculously elitist to her.

Oh well, no time to worry about that now, she thought, picking up her purse and taking hold of the column.

She squeezed her eyes shut and braced for the stomach-churning whirl, but it never came. Whoever did their Portus charm was excellent.

She opened her eyes to find herself standing in a large paving stone circle in very Roman-looking courtyard ringed with columns. Looking around, she was amazed at how complete the illusion appeared. The walls were charmed to show a stunning view of the countryside, blending into a very convincing clear sky above. Through an archway, she could see a villa-style building with a large patio dotted with tables.

“Miss?” A young man in buff-colored robes motioned for her to step off of the circle, which she did not a moment too soon.

Hermione appeared, looking every bit as flabbergasted as Ginny had.

Before her friend could ask, Ginny shook her head and motioned that they should head to their table.

They were seated and had scanned the daily menu, handwritten of course. Their waiter refused to leave until they’d each selected a starter, a salad and an entrée and had asked three times what wine they’d like with each course. They’d finally managed to convince him they didn’t want any wine and sent him on his way.

Ginny gave Hermione the short version of her morning and the big news.

“That’s wonderful! I’m so happy for you – and so sorry.” Hermione frowned. “Too bad you’ll be working with Malfoy.”

“Actually, so far he’s not that bad at work. I mean, he really does keep things professional and he’s quite good at what he does.” Ginny remembered his seemingly sincere congratulations that morning. “He seems serious about looking forward to working together. I suppose we’ll see.”

Hermione started to say something, but thought better of it. “Well, I guess your new title does explain why my boss told me he didn’t expect me back in the office for at least two hours. You know Lush makes some serious 'charitable contributions' to our department and I think he thinks our friendship and your new position is the dawn of a glorious new era for the Board.”

Ginny snickered. “I think Elle thinks the same.”

Their starters arrived and Ginny steered the conversation back to the whole reason they’d planned this lunch. “So, how bad were the fireworks I missed at the Burrow?”

Apparently things at the Burrow had been pretty bad. Molly had already been despondent when Hermione had arrived with Ron, and the twins had been on the point of going to hex both Malfoys into the next century.

“I think things will be fine. But you’d better floo your mum tonight about this latest news. She’ll never forgive you if she has to find things out in the papers twice in one week.”

Ginny laughed. “Right you are. So, are you keeping my brother out of trouble?”

Business out of the way, the ladies caught up on Ron’s latest idiocy – he now refused to walk within 30 meters of a jewelry shop and looked decidedly cagey when they went out with their married friends. For her part, Hermione was taking this in stride. After all, it was only a matter of time before Ron gave up the fight and proposed.

“I really don’t understand why you put up with his nonsense,” Ginny sighed. As Hermione was opening her mouth for another long-winded speech on the wonder of Ron, she added hastily, “But enough about Ron, I’ll hear all about it again from Mum I’m sure. What’s going on with Harry? I haven’t heard from him in ages.”

Hermione shrugged. “Harry – now there’s a disaster waiting to happen. You know he was totally miserable with the Aurors.”

“He quit?” Ginny squawked, much to the dismay of their waiter, hovering nearby with salads in hand.

“Oh no. Got himself transferred. Mmm…thank you,” Hermione murmured as a salad was placed in front of her. “You haven’t heard from him because he’s in New Zealand.”

“What? When was this?”

Hermione bit her lower lip, trying to think back. “Probably about three weeks ago? Earlier this year he managed to get a liason position with the International Wizarding Agency. Seemed really excited about it, which what a nice change, you know?”

Of all of them, Harry had been the most lost after Voldemort fell. After years of bracing for death around every corner, apprehending smugglers and rounding up the last few dark wizards just didn’t have the same punch. Plus, she sort of had the impression that Harry was hurt by how quickly they had all just gone on with their lives – Ron and Hermione finally getting serious about each other, Ginny moving into London proper, and the usual happenings of friends growing up and moving away.

The discussion of Harry’s various failed romances carried them right through the arrival of the entrées. For all his heroic qualities, the man was utter crap at reading women and seemed to find all the ones more interested in being seen with him than actually being with him.

Hermione picked at her pasta, worry creasing her brow. “Look, I know things are a little awkward between you two, but promise me you’ll make it point to get in touch with him when he gets back? I think he could really use some good, level-headed friends these days.”

Things had been a little strained between Ginny and Harry after several years of getting together only to break up again. But the last few times she had seen him, Harry had seemed to be finally accepting the fact they were really over, and so it was with confidence that Ginny assured her friend, "Things are fine between us. I’m worried about him, too. I promise – when he gets back I’ll pop 'round and see if we can’t do dinner or something.”

Hermione smiled and neatly changed the subject before things got too maudlin. “So – what’s Luna up to these days?”

Ginny had the inside scoop on all things Luna and laughed remembering her best friend’s last letter. “She’s having a grand time on her Yeti search. Though I think one of her sherpas is totally head over heels for her. Of course, Luna didn’t even notice.”

That set off a new round of happy gossip and they were catching up on the latest news of Neville and Daphne’s ever expanding brood when their waiter set a huge slice of tiramisu down between them.

“Oh, we didn’t - ” Ginny tried to wave him off, but he wouldn’t be deterred.

“Dessert is included.” He’d brought two steaming cups of strong Italian coffee as well and fussily arranged the cream and sugars on the table.

“Your account has been billed already, per your secretary's instructions. Thank you for dining with us and have a lovely afternoon.”

Hermione glanced at her watch. “Yikes! I needed to be back at the office twenty minutes ago. Let’s get this wrapped up.”

They did their best on the rich dessert, but half of it was still on the plate when they gave up.

As they were leaving, Hermione shot Ginny a wry look. “This was…different. But next time?”

Ginny nodded, laughing. “Let’s stick with ‘Soup & A Sam‘Witch’!”

“Glad to see this all this highbrow living hasn’t changed you!” Hermione teased.

It was a little hard to work with her stomach so full, but she managed to get through an impressive number of reports before the end of the day rolled around. She also flooed her parents and managed to get them to wind the conversation down in a somewhat reasonable amount of time and accept a raincheck on a celebratory dinner. The way she felt, she might never eat again, and all she really wanted to was a nice long bath.

It was still sinking in as she climbed into bed, relaxed and warm from the bath, and the thought that nothing was going to be quite the same again was the last she had as she drifted off to sleep.

Chapter Thirteen – The Official Dessert of Super Secret Meetings


After surviving her first day, Ginny decided it was a sound strategy to keep her focus narrow, worrying only about the task at hand and the attempt to live through another day. It worked fairly well to keep the panic down about the sheer amount to be done and the very limited time they had to do it in. By the close of day three, the ground was feeling more solid under her feet and she was even contributing in the bewildering whirl of meetings.

It was staggering - the amount of time, thought, and budget that had already been spent on Lush Couture. Narcissa must have known for years she’d like to expand into high-end clothing and every chance she had, she’d done a little research here and some fact-finding there. Ginny realized, not for the first time, just how near and dear this was to Narcissa’s heart. That thought would have worried her more, but she didn’t have time to fret between all the meetings to attend and reports to review and at least a million little decisions to be made.

The easiest decision had caused the biggest issue with her new partner. An epic dispute had followed Ginny’s discovery of a life-sized cutout of herself in the near-nude, which had been placed prominently in Draco's office. Not sure she wanted to even think about where it might end up if it remained in the office, and unswayed by his arguments that it was solely a way to keep their brand at the forefront of any visitor's thoughts, Ginny confiscated it. It was now standing near the front door of her apartment, a sheet draped tastefully around it to give it an illusion of modesty, and an arm outstretched to hold the coats of any visitors who might stop by.

One such visitor was the man who had originally ordered the cutout. Friday night arrived right on schedule, following neatly along after Thursday night and Friday morning, but by the end of the week Ginny was worn thin enough that it still came as a bit of a shock when she looked down at her date book and there was “Dinner – Draco – 7 pm” written in her hand.

She’d managed to leave the office early enough to do a little tidying and call down for some takeaway. It had just arrived when there was another knock at her door.

Draco took a long, hard look at the cutout as he laid his coat across it, draping his scarf around photo-Ginny’s neck, and dryly offered, "Of course, a coat rack – in your apartment. What a valuable and highly visible use of our advertising budget!”

“Why didn’t I think of that advertisement strategy?” he continued. The tiniest of smiles curved his lips and said he was probably kidding. “Oh wait, unless…Are there daily tours through the posh and sophisticated flat of Lush’s glamorous cover girl? Please tell me are – sold out tours – and that someone sees that besides you."

Ginny snorted inelegantly and rolled her eyes. “No tours. And at least I know it’s being put to a wholesome use around here,” she muttered. “Come on, the fried rice will get cold.”

“Chinese takeaway.” Draco stopped in his tracks and backed towards the door, sniffing suspiciously. “Does it have prawns in it?”

“I’m not cheap, Malfoy, of course it does,” she said with a roll of her eyes.

He opened the door and took another step back, ending in the hallway in front of her flat. “Sorry, I thought everyone in the office knew. I’m deathly allergic to prawns – even the smell can cause a reaction.”

His slightly-panicked look said he was deadly serious and she could feel a monster of a headache starting behind her eyes. “Of course you’re allergic.” Ginny brought a hand up to rub her temples. “And if it’d ever been part of my job description to feed you, maybe I’d have known that. Bugger!”

“I can go back to Portique?” he said, sounding just contrite enough that the urge to strangle him faded slightly. He held up a box and said, “I already got dessert from them, I’m sure dinner wouldn’t take long to fetch and your place could…air out?”

Sighing, Ginny said, “I’d like to get some sleep sometime before midnight, so just... Wait here while I put the food away, let me open the windows and cast a charm or two, and then I’ll just knock something together.”

The prawns hadn’t been in the flat for long and after ten minutes of a brisk, icy breeze wafting around, Draco went ahead and closed the windows.

Ginny was busy plying her wand over the stove and he sat at her kitchen table, watching. Meditatively, he said, “I think for the next photo shoot, we’ll have to go for a domestic scene. Maybe an apron...”

“You know, it’s not too late for me to get the prawns back out.” He closed his mouth abruptly, and she sniffed. “Wash up, the food’s ready.”

He lifted a brow but went to the sink to wash his face and hands before sitting back down in front of his place setting and taking a sip from his glass of wine. She set a plate in front of him and sat down to her own, waiting expectantly for him to speak.

He studied his plate intently, moving peas and mushrooms and bits of bacon around with the tines of his fork. It wasn’t precisely true Fettuccine Carbonara but it was what she had lying about and it should taste good enough. She knew she whipped up a mean Alfredo sauce.

He was nearly dissecting the dish and she was just waiting for him to make some rude comment about her cooking, when she realized he wasn’t being nitpicky; he was taking stock of the dish before tasting it. Funny, she’d never really pictured him as much of a foodie.

She waited a fair while more for a comment – any comment – but after he took the first bite, his fork never stopped moving between the plate and his mouth. When she cleared her throat pointedly, he paused his eating to say, “It’s a shame we can’t have you cook for all our customers. They’d become even more rabidly devoted than they already are.”

“Is that an actual compliment?” She grinned. “Careful, Malfoy, it’s a slippery slope. Next thing you know it won’t be veiled or backhanded or anything.”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “I’ll be sure to take care, since we can’t take a chance on you fainting at the slightest hint of praise.”

“Thank you for your kind protection,” she said tartly. “Did you want to start talking about business anytime soon, or did you think to wait until we’re both blasted on the wine you brought?”

He lifted his glass in a toast. “You do realize I only brought the one bottle, right?” When she shot to her feet, he added hastily, “Someone’s embezzling money.”

Ginny sank back into her chair, but he’d resumed eating with every sign of complete concentration. Finally she said, “And? Where are they stealing from? How much? Where is it going?”

“Weasley,” he said with a sigh, putting his fork down next to his empty plate. “All of my business experience is in marketing and PR. I can sell, I can spin, I can create buzz like it’s a symphony, but going through accounts is not one of my strengths.”

Frowning, she asked, “So how can you tell someone is stealing?”

“I was preparing a press release, and some of the numbers didn’t add up.” He shrugged. “I suppose it’s possible that we somehow lost money for the year when we showed a profit every quarter, but it doesn’t seem likely.”

“All right, so either someone’s stealing or something’s being severely misrepresented somewhere. Or you’re really, really bad at math,” she added with a bit of a smirk.

Blithely ignoring her disparagement of his mathematical skills, he said, “I had Elle pull and copy the records, but I wasn’t sure how thoroughly I could trust her.”

“You don’t trust Elle? But then why--”

“I don’t really think she’s involved, but I don’t want to take any chances.”

Ginny was silent for a moment, letting it sink in how completely he was trusting her. If he wasn’t even involving Elle, who was so frighteningly good at her job as to appear omnipotent... She lifted her napkin to her mouth, which was set in a firm, determined line. “Do you have any of those records?”

He nodded, but stopped halfway to standing up. “I don’t suppose there’s any more?”

Sighing, Ginny gathered the plates and said, “I’ll pack it up for you to take home, all right?”

By the time she’d returned to the table from getting the dishes cleaned and put away, and packing the leftovers, her kitchen table had entirely disappeared under stacks of file folders... And he was still adding more, some in boxes and some just held together by rubber bands and prayer. Through her horror, she choked out, “You realize we don’t need every piece of paper ever filed, right?”

“I asked Elle for everything I might need to learn about the company’s finances and administration,” he said. “I don’t even know if I have what you’ll need in all this.”

Ginny once again looked over the stacks with a numb shock, then glared at Draco. “You realize all of this could take months to go through? And that’s if I give up all pretense of a social life.”

“I wasn’t aware you had one—No, no, I’m sorry,” he said hastily. “I’ll help if I can.”

“Oh, you’ll help,” Ginny said grimly. “And we’re going to start by organizing this mess so I regain the use of my table.”

Leaving him to contemplate the sheer number of files, she dug around in her cabinets until she came up with a set of sectioned trays in blue plastic. “Hermione thought I’d need these to make ice for some reason, but they’ll do just fine for this.”

She sat down, snagged the wine glass teetering on top of the nearest pile, and finished it in a gulp. “All right, Malfoy, I’m assuming you at least know the basics of shrinking charms, and of filing?” She tapped each of the trays with her wand, changing the color. “Green for accounts receivable, yellow for accounts payable, pink for operating budgets, and red for profit and loss statements. We’ll add more colors and trays as and when we need to. Sort by year, department, project, and then alphabetically.”

Looking at the trays, then at the piles, Draco drained is own wineglass. “You realize I’ve only the vaguest idea what you just said, right?”

“Come on, Malfoy, let’s get to work.”

Several hours later, with Draco trained to at least a semblance of competence in filing, Ginny yawned and stretched. “Did you say you brought dessert?”

Draco nodded and brought out the tiramisu from Portique, still as perfect as when it’d been boxed. “You’ll have to get the plates.”

“Don’t be fussy,” she said, summoning a pair of forks. She dug both in, then lifted one to her mouth with a sample of the rich dessert. “Sinful. You’ll have to bring some every time you come over. Especially if you plan on bringing this much work with you.”

“Tiramisu – the official dessert of super secret meetings. Noted.” Draco took a bite of his own and then said, “All right, a file for the interdepartmental Quidditch league expenses – does it go under accounts payable?”

“No, that’s folded into operating costs. Who’s got it in their budget?” Ginny frowned. “Wait, I didn’t even know we had a Quidditch league. When did we get a Quidditch league?”

Draco rubbed his eyes. “We don’t yet, but I was thinking of starting it up, and the file got mixed in with all these.”

“I call Josh the intern for my team, then. If the little bugger’s as fast on a broom as he is fetching coffee, we’ll win every game.” Ginny yawned and took the file, shrinking it and floating it to her briefcase. “You can have it back on Monday. At least it’s out of the way for now.”

“Fine,” he said, stifling a yawn of his own. “I say we charge the teams to the bloody records department somehow.”

Ginny looked at the piles of paper work they had yet to make a dent in and grinned evilly. “The bastards have it coming.”


~ End Chapter Thirteen~