The Dress
By Ms. Scribe
Authors Notes:This one is for Clio.Thanks to Sarea_Okelani for the Beta. <3.
***
"Wear it like this," she whispers, as she sets down the brush, clutches a handful of my hair, and piles it on top of my head. A few feet away are the eyes of Pigwidgeon. Pig flutters around angrily, backs away, and flies out of the room.
"We're close, aren't we, Ginny?"
Her eyes are pleading, sincere. "Of course we are, Mum."
She pulls me into her chest. I miss being wrapped in her arms..
"You never talk to me anymore. I know you enjoy going out with Susan, but you and I really need to schedule some time together. You haven't left me just yet!" she jokes.
"I've just been busy," I tell her, and adjust the hem on my dress. It is almost the same color red as the one Narcissa Malfoy had on the day I followed her and Draco into the shop.The day we locked eyes for one single second. The day she looked right through me.
The dress is restrained, refined.
"Your dress is lovely, but I hope it was worth it. You'll need to be careful and take care of it."
The dress was purchased with money I'd been saving for almost a year. A dress like this, Mrs. Malfoy might have purchased and forgotten to wear.
"I will."
***
I'm not prepared for where I am going. Most of the streetlamps are broken. The roads are paved with stained brick, cracked cement, and garbage. Old newspapers, broken glass, and things far less palatable clog up the storm drains. It doesn't seem the sort of place Draco would want to visit for a second, let alone spend the night.
Then I see him. I momentarily lose my balance, and lean against one of the lampposts. The expression on his face is indifferent.
"You're late," he says.
"Only fifteen minutes. I honestly thought I was in the wrong place."
"You look like it."
I smirk at him. "I got all dressed up for you.I even put on a bit of perfume."
He doesn't answer, but there is a hint of a smile before he nods towards a nightclub on the corner flashing with blue light. He doesn't take my hand. There are people around, and I can't help but stare. I silently wonder why it is that whores often times choose to only wear lipstick. It makes their red lips leap out from the rest of their bland faces. They look like carnivorous caricatures that have suddenly sprung to life.
By the time we reach the door, I have given up on my futile attempt to figure out which ones are girls and which ones are boys. Somehow, I know it doesn't really matter all that much.
"When we get inside, stay close to me."
"You still haven't told me what we're doing here."
"We're doing something to help Potter. That should make you happy."
"What?"
"Just do what I say."
"I think not."
He groans. "Please," he says finally, before opening the door.
The room is filled with wizards, most accompanied by hookers lounging across their laps or leaning against their arms possessively. Some are the same animated beasts I saw outside earlier. They are glaring at me.
"Bringing your own whore offends their sense of morality," Draco whispers, a hint of amusement in his voice.
The phrases "stuck up" and "oohh- la-la look at the princess" are tossed out at me, among many others.
"Ignore them. They're unimportant. The person we're seeing tonight is all that matters. Your name is Rose," Draco says casually.
"Viola. If I have to pretend to be your whore, I'd at least like to choose my own name."
"Fine, Viola," he says as a tick of a frown creases across his forehead.
"Draco?" I ask. His frown deepens.
"Someone's coming over here."
An unusually tall Wizard crosses the room towards us, and I am somewhat taken aback by the suddenness of his approach.
"Mr. Malfoy,"the man says, extending his hand.
Draco takes it. "Mr. Daviz."
"I was expecting your father."
Draco snorts. "He's got more important things to attend to.Surely you, of all people, understand that."
"I doubt that, Mr. Malfoy, but since you're here, you and your lovely guest can relay this message to him."
Locust Daviz smiles, and then glances over at me. "And you are, my dear?"
"Viola," I say softly. He reaches out to touch my hair. I flinch when Mr. Daviz lets his hand fall to my shoulder. I tilt my neck, nervously, but mesmerized as he leans into my ear and whispers something I know Draco cannot hear.
"You are enchanting. You deserve more than this young man."
I stare at Draco, at the lines of his jaw as he strains to listen to what Mr. Daviz is saying. He leans in further, his lips hovering dangerously near the nape of my neck.
"Follow me then," he says. I swallow and force a smile.
Draco doesn't blink. "She's a good deal more costly than what you'll find here, so in the future kindly request permission before making small talk with my escort, " he says loud enough to illicit a few indignant eye rolls from two whores standing nearby.
Mr. Daviz gives Draco a cursory glance.
"You're in for quite a performance tonight."
"It had better be short.I've no time for lengthy shows."
"This one is worth the time, young Mr. Malfoy."
Draco moves in closer to me. Mr. Daviz directs us towards a tiny door in the back. He nods at a very large man standing near the doorway and we are let inside.We crouch down and begin to walk towards a light. Something sticks on the bottom of my shoe and I stumble.
Damn high heels. One of my knees lands on something sticky and wet. There is a painful rock on the other. Draco grabs my arm and tugs me back onto my feet.
"Careful.I didn't pay for damaged goods."
Mr. Daviz chuckles.
"I'm fine," I whisper, feeling as if Draco is a world away.
We wait momentarily in the darkness, readying ourselves for whatever might happen next. Draco steps out first, pulling me along behind him.
This room is more elegant than the front of the club. People are sitting at tiny round tables playing cards and throwing insults back and forth. Women in various states of undress are drinking and staring blankly at a stage in front, even though there are no performers as of yet.
Mr. Daviz leads us to a table in the corner. Suddenly, the lights come on. There are rising columns of sweet smelling smoke, and in place of the familiar pattern of the club lights, there are intermittent sparks and explosions.
A tall man appears out of nowhere, and tiny birds rise into the air on burning wings. Draco sucks in his breath. My dress gets warmer, and sweat trickles down my face. I struggle with the top button, but it won't come undone. It's clinging to every part of me. It won't let go. I whimper.
"Ginny?" Draco whispers, his voice wavering.
There is a sound. Not a loud roar, but an undercurrent. A humming, buzzing, that makes my legs tingle and my hands tremble. My panic is followed by a show of frenzied fireworks, with no one sight experienced more than once. I can't catch my breath. In the instant of darkness between one explosion and the next, the entire scene changes.
I look down at my hands. They aren't mine. My fingers are long, and slim and pale. I reach for my hair. It's blonde, sleek. My blood is colder. My lips feel more slender.
I can feel her. I know her.
"It can't be."
One moment, I'm falling, the next I'm not. One moment, Draco is standing next to me, and the next, I'm leaning into someone who has a blade he is about to sink into my neck.
This isn't real.
"Stop…" I manage to say, and for a second I experience nothing.
"But this is what you want," the tall man says. He has too many teeth and his eyes are unblinking.
I feel like it will go on forever, the scenes changing before me. One move of his hand takes me from scenic beauty to atrocity. A beautiful field of flowers one moment, a cave plastered with corpses the next. I catch a glimpse of Draco. He is staring into space, wide eyed, horrified. The tall man is laughing.
My body is different. I feel different. The dress gets tighter. It's suffocating me. I pull at it, try to tear at the hem. I can't get out.
I can't get free.
I'm terrified that we've been led into some terrible trap. It is inexplicable, whatever it is that is occurring between myself and my dress. It moves on my skin now, sometimes soothingly, sometimes cruelly. When I try to unzip it, try to loosen the collar, it only clings tighter.
"Draco.." I cry out.
Someone shrieks, someone laughs, and darkness falls as quickly as the lights had come on.
I move my hands across my body. My freckles have returned. I'm still here. There is relief mixed with a pang of regret. Draco's eyes are red. His hands are shaky. Mr. Daviz is now standing before us.
"Powerful, wouldn't you say?"
Mr. Daviz's eyes are colder than before. "Tell your father that if he is to know true power, he will seek us out tomorrow night. "
"What did you just do?" he asks. When I glance around the room, I notice that one man is sobbing by himself in a corner. One woman is laughing, and dancing to no music in the middle of the floor.
"For a small price, we let our guests experience their deepest desires in their truest form.She'll recover," Mr. Daviz quips.
Draco reaches for my arm.
"I'll relay your message."
Mr. Daviz laughs and bows. "Yes, you will."
.
***
We're silent when we finally reach the exit. My footsteps seem heavier the further away we get. I try to forget the light show, but I crave it. Something in the pit of my stomach turns and I cling to the pole just outside the doorway. A man accidentally walks into me, nearly knocking me down.
"Muggles…" Draco grumbles.
"It's hard to leave," I say, my hand unwilling to let go of the pole.
"I know," he says. He pulls at my arm, and we manage to make our way across the street.
"Where do we go now?"
"We can stay at the Manor," he says.
Something is wrong. I can feel his gaze on me when we Apparate into his bedroom.
"I'm tired.Let's just get some rest," he says, not looking at me.
"Draco?"
I put my hand on his shoulder. He pulls away. I don't bother to ask him what he saw. I know he'll just find a reason not to answer.
He pulls off his jumper and sits on the bed.
"I'm tired as well," I say quietly.
He grumbles something inaudible, and climbs into bed. I unzip the dress, let it fall to my ankles, and climb in beside him. We settle into separate corners. I consider wrapping my arms around him, but I let him alone.
The wind has dropped. I can hear the sound of trees scraping against the walls of the house and the raucous cry of some unknown creature.
***
I wake up before him, and the first thing I look for is the dress. I get out of bed, pick it up, and drape it over the footboard of the bed. It is so unlike me, so very different from anything I'd ever worn before.
I shiver as I remember last night, and reach out to touch it, rub the silk between my fingertips. For a brief moment, I feel it again. I can feel the pulse of the music and Mr. Daviz's breath on my neck.
Something tickles my back gently, and I squirm.
"It was cold, lying there without you."
There is that delicious feeling of waiting, and then the feel of his arms wrapping around my waist.
"You're perfect," he says, and I believe him. When he touches me, I will believe anything he says, do anything he asks. His mouth on my mine feels urgent, bruising.
His hands trace down and rest on my inner thighs.
He mutters something, and bends me over the bed. I'm gripping the dress in one hand and stroking his cock in the other. When he enters me, I intend to bite down onto my fist to muffle my cry, but instead, end up tasting the red silk. The scent is wonderful, strange, bringing up odd, swirling images behind my eyelids.
Draco is panting now, slowing his strokes. He draws one of my earlobes into his mouth and then softly lets go.
I arch back into him and he rides me. His hips are scooping under and up, and then crashing into me; a steady rhythm marked by the sound of my name coming from him in tiny moans.
I hold the dress against my breasts, the creeping wave of need rising up from my belly and spreading quickly over my gooseflesh. My back arches and my toes cramp up as every part of my body coils, impelling me towards my finish.
I remember the way it felt to be like her. I bet she is refined even bent over a mattress.
Draco reaches around and rubs my clit, and I lose all thought until I come, my face pressed into the silk, leaving a moist circle near the neckline. Near the silver buttons that had clung too tightly last night, and that were now leaving decorative indentations on my cheek.
Draco notices and tries to pull it out of my hand, but it is me who is clinging now. Not wanting to let it go.
I turn onto my back, still holding the dress against my chest. Draco pays little attention to this and reaches under the silk to knead my bare nipples before entering me again, pushing too hard and too fast.
I realize, vaguely, that I'm lifting my hips to him, quietly whispering words he will likely never say back.
"I love you…"
And when he comes, the dress is crushed between us, damp and wrinkled. One button has come loose in my hand. The smell of it is fading now.
The perfection of it, ruined, by the beauty that is us. No fairy tale. No stuff that dreams are made of. Just the lifeless shell of something I'll never become. A hundred times I've closed my eyes and dreamt about what it was like to be someone like her.
I let it go.
There is a long sigh from Draco, a question perhaps. His own sweet smell is magnified all around me and I kiss him, trying to taste it. Feel it.
Draco pulls the dress from between us, tosses it to the floor.
"I'll buy you another. A different color."
I rise to kiss him again, holding him by his hair. I think to my self that later, I will ask him what he saw.
He rolls off of me, folding his hands behind his head with a satisfied smirk.
"Blue, perhaps," he says.
***