Unofficial Portkey Archive

Centerfold by PeiPei
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Centerfold

PeiPei

Chapter Two

---

After many lemon tarts and chocolate cupcakes, Ginny eventually forgave Colin's ill gotten apology and unacceptable behavior with his camera. He promised that he would never take another picture again without her knowledge and would destroy the picture immediately.

However, it had been hours, and Colin still hadn't been able to find the photo. But he wasn't going to be telling Ginny that any time soon. As he searched in between the couch, Ginny came back down to the kitchen for a sip of water. She looked at him peculiarly and asked, "Colin, what in blazes are you looking for?"

Colin quickly lifted his head up in surprise and tried to think of a quick reply. "Well … err … I lost some of the film that I had, and I thought it'd be here, somewhere, nothing to worry about," Colin said this in a manner much too fast and with a large hopefully reassuring smile.

Ginny wondered at his awkward behavior, but decided to dismiss it. "Well, okay then," she relented as she poured herself a cup. "For a moment I thought you were looking for that photo of me, but then that would just be silly because I told you to immediately Incendio it."

Colin had turned around and continued looking, but froze when he heard what she had said. He gave her a nervous laugh, smiled and reassured her that it was gone and would never ever be seen by another living human being again. He turned back towards the couch with a panicked expression that clearly showed that he was going to die a slow and painful death.

---

"'Eh Mort, 'ere's anotha one of em fines," said a large greasy man who was second in command of filing and sorting.

Mort turned his thin scowling face towards the man and grabbed the envelope. "God dammit, you'd think that after all these years I'd finally got promoted to a higher stand point, but no, I'm still in the bloody filing room with a great big oaf," he murmured to himself.

The large man shrugged at his partner's bitterness and went back to his sorting of mail and filing them away.

Mort sneered at him. He hated his filing/sorting job at St. Mungo's, but after 7 years in the job, he couldn't exactly find another that suited him. And so his daily life was limited to the crammed space he shared with Larry that surprisingly fit dozens of cabinets surrounding them, and owls coming and leaving at every second of the day. Having owls poop on you at least 8 times an hour surely wasn't a plus either.

As Mort continued to dream about what his life could've been, he absentmindedly tore open the envelope with his thin fingers and out pore all 125 Galleons, a parchment and a piece of material that Mort wasn't able to recognize. He began counting the money, just to make sure they weren't gypping him of any loose change. After he was satisfied with the fine, he moved on to check the parchment to see that it was correctly filled out and signed. His attention then went back to the unknown material. Mort slowly picked it up, afraid that it could be some trick from an angry fine payer, and examined it.

It seemed like paper, but a bit smoother and heavier. In the centre, was a different material that was glossy and a bit shiny. Completely perplexed by it, Mort flipped it and almost had a heart attack at the ripe age of 35, but instead he settled with falling backwards on his chair and tipping it so that he fell completely to the ground.

Larry quickly turned towards Mort with a look of horror. "Mort? You alrigh' 'der?" Larry tried to help Mort up and get him to explain what was going on.

After seeing that Mort was completely alright and didn't have any serious injuries, Larry took a closer look at Mort. His eyes were glazed over and his mouth was in a soft "o", and whatever was in his hand was the cause of it all. "Lemme see tha', Mort," Larry declared and reached for whatever it was that was distracting him. Mort seemed to be too occupied in his current state of mind to even notice that Larry had nicked something out of his hand.

Larry rolled his beady eyes at Mort with a slight grin and looked at the paper. Once his eyes dropped down, he was a complete goner.

- - -

Draco Malfoy strolled - no sauntered down the stairs of his flat. Malfoys did not stroll It was far too beneath them to do a thing that common, and they had too much poise for that. He headed towards his kitchen to prepare a quick breakfast before heading out to meet the burdens of the day.

As Draco was about to round the corner to enter the dining room, he couldn't help but pause in front of the mirror and check his appearance. Old habits were hard to break. He really was too vain for his own good, but it seemed like everyone knew that but him. Draco was usually the joke of his mates when they gathered together. His friends mocked him about his unnatural tendencies towards his appearance. Theodore Nott had even coined him as being metrosexual-a muggle term he said. He defined the word being, a male who spent great amounts of time on their appearance and lifestyle. Blaise had then chimed in, "Or to put it quite simply, you have gay tendencies." It was then that Draco began to sputter that he was indeed not gay and had several-no, dozens to prove that he was heterosexual. Blaise and Theo had snickered and replied that it meant he had the behavior of most gay men, but he was still straight.

With one final rake through his fine hair, and a low whistle from the enchanted mirror, he retreated to making blueberry pancakes with extra whipped cream and syrup. Many people in Draco's social standings turned their nose up at preparing one's own meals, but Draco thought of it as a necessity and it didn't hurt that many witches thought of it as dead sexy.

While gathering the ingredients, Draco noticed the latest issue of Playwizard on his kitchen counter. Now, Draco didn't need a men's magazine to get himself off. No, he had plenty of women that wanted to help him get off.

He was actually the Imaging Director of Playwizard. Well, actually, no, Draco Malfoy wasn't the Imaging Director, Sebastian Mallandore was. His mother nearly had a fit when he had told her of his current occupation. She demanded that he use a pseudonym instead of using his real name in the publishing royalties. She had also told him that she would have been mortified to face her luncheon friends if they knew Draco's actual career. To everyone else in the Wizarding World, Draco Malfoy simply ran all the Malfoy estates. He was in charge of many of the wizarding businesses, knew all the right people and attended all the right functions. A pureblood poster child.

Lately, the Playwizard sales hadn't been the best, but the company was still managing. For now.

He mixed the blend vigorously, but he couldn't help thinking of the future of the company. Draco was trying for a newer image. His image was tasteful and high class nudes. The nude ladies would not be trolloping around in scenarios that involved Catholic school girl uniforms or sexy role playing, but more of a higher standard. He had tried his idea for the last 2 editions of the magazine, but it seemed like the randy wizards liked their hitched skirts and pig tails on the girls.

Draco was actually quite surprised that his editor, Cassius Warrington, had even let him try out his ideas. It was a huge risk to let a new comer to the magazine try to make over the whole of it. But, he and Cassius had been friends in Hogwarts and fought side by side in the Second War, so Cassius thought that he would at least give Draco a chance. Although, it looked as if Cassius was beginning to regret it because sales had plummeted once customers realized that the centerfold was of a nude model laying on the sand with distinct and symbolic strokes of paint on her body. The wizards had complained that the paint had covered too much of her body and it needed to go.

As Draco began to pour the mixture onto the pan, a stunning brunette walked into the room clad in only a button-up shirt that hit mid-thigh. She strided towards him in a walk that screamed feminity and sexiness. The walk was definitely well practiced for feminine manipulation at its best.

"Mmm," she purred softly into his ear. "Pancakes, my favourite." She placed her hands on his shoulders and leaned in for a lingering kiss on the cheek.

"Yes, I know," Draco replied, clearly unaffected by her antics.

The brunette smirked and walked back towards the table and sat down cross legged and began to talk about what the day would hold for her.

As she continued to ramble on, Draco took this opportunity to study the woman sitting in his dining room. Tracey Davis was truly stunning and was always there when he needed a body to warm his bed. Their relationship was based solely on sex and nothing more. Many of his friends warned him that his heart may disagree with him and he may find himself in love with the lovely Miss Davis. Obviously, these were not his Slytherin friends. He had scoffed at the idea and reassured them that it was only sex and nothing more. Tracey had agreed whole heartedly. Honestly, she couldn't say no to the Slytherin sex god. One of the flaws of Tracey that Draco was quite annoyed with was her tendency to talk for hours on end about inconsequential matters.

Draco finished off the pancakes and garnished them with fresh fruit, syrup and whipped cream. He placed the plate in front of Tracey and she immediately stopped her yapping to begin to plow through her breakfast.

Draco dismissed Tracey's eating habits. He was all too familiar with them. He had long ago given up on trying to teach Tracey proper etiquette, but she was always like this. That was another thing that he really didn't like about her, her eating manners were horrific. He noticed that whipped cream had gotten on her upper lip and he wondered what she would do if he pushed the plates away on the table and licked it right off ...

Hey, her eating habits may be horrendous and she could talk your ear off, but Draco was still a hot-blooded man who couldn't say no to a luscious beauty.

"Love, breakfast was fabulous, and so was last night but I really ought to be heading to work now," Tracey said, as she wiped her mouth of the whipped cream with a napkin.

"Damn. Fantasy ruined," he grumbled to himself.

---

Mort and Larry were lonely men. They rarely went out on dates and women showed no particular interests in them. Saturday nights consisted of take out dinners, the casual adult film and it finished off with them getting reacquainted with their hand. So, when a nude picture of the Minister of Magic's daughter landed in their small office place, they milked it for every drop.

"Holy shit," Larry whispered for the third time in five minutes as he continued to stare at the red-headed girl in front of him.

Mort continued to walk back and forth in their confined space with thoughts as to why the picture landed in their hands. Many reasons flashed through his mind, one included that Ginevra Weasley secretly lusted after him and the only way she could obtain his attention was to send him an erotic picture of him. It sounded enlightening for the first 20 seconds, but then he remembered who he was. After that he called himself an idiot and continued to think of ways the photo could be put to his advantage.

"She's a bit fat, got some belly on 'er," Larry criticized the picture, but then sighed. "She's 'till a looker."

Mort rolled his eyes at Larry and grabbed the picture from his hands and stared at it once again. She wasn't stick thin, but she wasn't fat either. Sure, she had a little belly, but who didn't? He noticed the many freckles covering her body and wondered why she didn't charm them away. Other than the freckles and slight weight she could afford to lose, she was cute. Oh, but what to do with the picture? Make copies? Cherish it forever and hope that she really was secretly lusting after him? Or … sell it?

Mort stopped mid-step while the wheels in his head started to churn. He had dreams of buying that new charmed flying Mustang, but he never had had enough money left over. Why, if he sold the picture of a beautiful, naked woman, he'd make some good money. Plus, it was the Minister's of Magic's only and youngest daughter. Oh, he'd be getting some very good money.

---

"Oh shit, this isn't good at all," Colin said to himself as he looked under the tables in the kitchen for the seventeenth time.

Colin had stayed up most of the night tearing the living room upside down in search of the naked picture of Ginny. He had looked in every nook and cranny in the flat, but he still came up with nothing.

He wouldn't have admitted it 2 hours ago, but now he'd admit it freely. Colin was scared. Scared to death as to what Ginny would do to him when she found out that he had lost the picture and had no clue, as to where it was.

He fell back onto the sofa with an exasperated sigh and leaned a bit forward to grab a cupcake with generous amounts of frosting on it. As he munched on the dessert, he tried to think of just exactly what he did yesterday after he took the photo that was going to be the cause of his young death.

"Took the picture, ran down the stairs like a scared little ninny, threw it on the counter, saw the St. Mungo's fine, mailed the St.Mungo-" Colin almost chocked on his cupcake as he thought of the inevitable.

As he regained himself, he re-thought everything and came to the conclusion that it was indeed true. He had the mailed the picture of the most famous 20 year old witch to the filers of St. Mungo's Hospital.

"Oh, fuck," Colin murmured as he Apparated.

---

"Yes, yes, this is bloody fantastic" Mort muttered happily to himself as he read the fine print of Playwizard.

After he had thought of his quite brilliant plan, Mort started to dig through a pile of magazines in his secret compartment on his desk. Hey, the hours were long and he had to do something to occupy his time. On the back of the cover there were advertisements that offered money for particularly delicious pictures of witches. The fine print stated that any "candid" pictures were accepted and did not require any consent from the model in the picture. This was due to the fact that during press time, the participant's face would be blurred and therefore, no one would be able to recognize her.

Mort was practically jumping for joy when he had finished reading the paragraph. He did not need any consent from Ginny Weasley to get his pay. He quickly grabbed some parchment and ink and began writing a letter to the offices of Playwizard.

While Mort busily wrote, Larry suddenly tore his attention away from the mesmerizing picture and glanced at Mort.

"Eh, Mort, what cha doin'?" Larry walked towards his colleague and noticed the magazine and beginnings of his letter.

Mort looked up in shock as he noticed that Larry had suddenly clued into his conspiracies. He covered the parchment with his arm and flicked the magazine off the desk quite ungracefully. "Nothing Larry, absolutely nothing."

"Ya think I'm 'n idiot?" He picked up the magazine and turned to the page it was on beforehand. "Yer goin' to send the picture in, aren't ya? If ya do, I wan' my fair share."

Mort made a dirty face at Larry in reply, but nodded his head. Larry might be a blundering oaf at times, but he could kick his arse if he truly wanted to. Mort really didn't want to see that day. Plus, this was a picture of the Minister of Magic's daughter, naked! He obviously was going to be getting many Galleons for his naughty little picture. He could afford to share some of the wealth with Larry.

Mort made another copy of the photo and charmed it to burst into flames after the viewer was able to get its full liking of it. He finished the letter off stating that if they liked what they saw, all they needed to do was send the included amount to the address written inside and they would receive the authentic photograph. He placed the contents into an envelope and wrote who the letter was specifically for and smiled at Larry.

"We're going to be bloody rich, Larry," Mort said as he tied the letter to an owl's leg and told it where to go.

"Let's 'ope so," Larry answered, as he made his way towards some more files.

"Oh, I know so," Mort replied with a large glee on his face. He watched the owl fly out to his intended destination.

Mort went back to his desk and re-read the paragraph and address once more. Once he was finally content, he went back to his filings with happy thoughts for the first time in months. Hopefully, Sebastian Malandoré, Image Director of Playwizard would be sending him his riches some time soon.

---

The Malfoy heir groaned as he made his way into his office. Once he had set foot into the building of Playwizard, people began crowding him as to whether or not they were to continue on with Draco's 'vision' or quickly find swimsuit models and shoot them naked on a beach. Draco had barked at them to piss off and leave him be for at least another hour. They retreated quickly at Draco's threat.

Really, he didn't know what to do. On one hand, he wanted to continue with his "vision", but England didn't seem to quite agree with him. When he had been visiting Paris, he saw numerous magazines that evoked his "vision" and the Parisians loved it. Those magazines flew off the charts while Playwizard stood all by its lonesome on the shelf.

On the other hand, if he didn't switch his gears back to the old Playwizard, then he would be unemployed and scurry his way back to his Mother for money. He was 21 for fuck's sake, he wasn't going to be crawling back to Mummy.

As he continued to contemplate as to what to do, a young intern knocked on his open door nervously.

"Mr. Malfoy, I … I have a letter for y-you, says it's really important," the intern stuttered, as he placed the envelope on his desk.

Draco sneered at the boy and grabbed the envelope from the table to read its contents. Just as he was about to open it, he noticed that the intern was still standing there looking around nervously. Draco rolled his eyes at him and told him that he could take his leave.

After he left, he fingered the envelope carefully and sliced it open with his letter cutter. He read the letter quietly to himself:

Dear Mr. Sebastian Mallandore,

I have, in my possession, a picture that will most likely increase your sales by 100% guaranteed. This picture is of the most famous red-headed 20 year old in all of the Wizarding World. I have attached a copy of the photo which will incinerate after your full glance of it. If you are interested in my proposition, please send the full five hundred thousand Galleons to the included address. Afterwards, I will send you the authentic, mind you, this photo is authentic, photo of this particular witch.

If I do not hear from you within 24 hours, I will assume that you are not interested and I will take my business elsewhere.

Thank you,

Mort Daniels

Draco raised a skeptical eyebrow as he finished the letter. Raise my sales by 100%? The most famous red-headed 20-year old woman? An authentic nude?

He questioned Mort's promises, as he turned to the next page.

Draco expected many things. He expected crazy and absurd things, but what he didn't expect was a naked picture of an all grown up Ginevra Weasley, daughter of Arthur Weasely, Minister of Magic. This picture screamed scandal all over it.

"Holy fuck," Draco cursed to no one in particular. How the hell did this Mort character get this image of the littlest Weasley? Never mind that, what was he going to do with this image?

He did what any other man would do, he took in everything. Took in every freckle, curve, and blemish. Everything. The Weasley was a curvaceous girl with breasts just big enough to fit in a man's hands. Her freckles contrasted against her porcelain skin. The freckles were spread over her arms, legs, stomach … hell, they were everywhere. If Draco had had any doubt in the past, whether or not she was a natural red head, those thoughts were diminished. She was surprised in the picture. Her brown eyes were wide with unexpectancy and her pink lips were in a soft "o". Her dreadful red hair was long and hung limp and wet past her shoulders.

The girl was alright. She wasn't a model or stunning like Tracey. She was cute.

But what to do with this picture? He placed the photo on his desk and began to contemplate. Actually buy it and cause an uproar with the Weasleys or write a letter that politely explained he was not interested?

He took another look at the image and admired her pale legs. Screw the lawsuit. The Weasley picture was exactly what Playwizard magazine needed to bring itself up from the slumps. He would have to place his "vision" aside for the moment and think of his employment and the money the sales would project from this naughty little photo.

Suddenly, the picture burst into flames and in a matter of seconds turned into a pile of ashes.

Draco Malfoy didn't know it at the time, but the stages of fire to ash symbolized what his life would become in a few short weeks.

A/N: Tracey and Draco will never ever be a romantically involved couple. Tracey will not be jealous and try to break up Draco's future relationships. Draco will never become jealous of Tracey's dates or whatnot. They are friends with benefits. They have sex and seek companionship with one another.

Also, so sorry for the loooong wait. Chapter three … well it's in the makings. Wish me luck on my biology, chemistry, English and French exams! *crosses fingers*

On a final note, I have a livejournal: http://www.livejournal.com/~leipeipei … so if you'd like some snippets of upcoming chapters or just curious to know what's going on in my life, just friend me.