Centerfold

PeiPei

Rating: R
Genres: Romance, Humor
Relationships: Draco & Ginny
Book: Draco & Ginny, Books 1 - 5
Published: 12/02/2005
Last Updated: 10/06/2005
Status: in_progress

When Ginny’s nude picture ‘accidentally’ gets mailed to the offices of Playwizard, she’s in for the surprise of her life. Not only does the entire Wizarding World see the Minister of Magic’s daughter in all her glory, but so does a certain grey-eyed Slytherin.

Chapters

1. One

2. Two

1. One

Title: Centerfold

Author: PeiPei

Rating: R for adult situations and mild slash

Ships: Draco/Ginny, Hermione/Harry

Summary: When Ginny’s nude picture ‘accidentally’ gets mailed to the offices of Playwizard, she’s in for the surprise of her life. Not only does the entire Wizarding World see the Minister of Magic’s daughter in all her glory, but so does a certain grey-eyed Slytherin. Draco/Ginny

Disclaimer: I really don’t know who created the whole idea of Playwizard, if anyone does know, please email me and I’ll give the credit. I really don’t owe any of the characters, they’re all JK Rowling. I only own the plot.

---

Chapter One:

Ginny Weasley hated Monday mornings with a passion. She always dreaded the feeling of waking up early and abandoning the security and coziness of her quilted comforter. She longed to stay snuggled up against her childhood teddy bear, Wontan for just a few more minutes, but her alarm clock continued to shout indecent messages to her (You’re late! You’re late you blundering chit!) Added the fact that it was an ungodly hour, she really had no incentive to get out of bed.

Waking up would also mean going to her dreadful workplace. You would think that the Minister of Magic’s daughter would receive a better job than stamping approval notes for the Department of Portkey Regulations all day. One could only take so much when dealing with loonies who wanted to use Portkeys to find immortality in the deep jungles of Asia. God, she hated her job.

Just as the alarm was about to scream out a particular nasty word, Ginny clamped her hand on the snooze button, and fell back on her bed. She was walking a fine line between sleep and reality, when there were flashes that lit up the back of her eyelids, weighing the scale away from the blissfulness of sleep. Refusing to open her eyes, Ginny brushed off the flashes. But the flashes refused to be ignored and they soon began again in earnest with a soft and steady rhythm of clicks.

“What the …,” Ginny grumbled, as she cracked opened her eyes. There, standing next to the bed was her assailant, a very blurry Colin Creevey with his new camera (a Polaroid he called it), taking snap shots of her ‘just woken up’ look. Ginny accomplished what she thought to be a satisfying glare in the general direction of the blur that was Colin. It really sucked to have Colin as a roommate; he was such an oddball at times.

“Stop glaring Gin, it’s ruining the photos,” Colin suddenly pointed out, ignoring the hostile looks he was sure she was giving him.

Ginny wiped at her eyes so that her vision cleared. “Colin what in the hell are you doing, barging in here while I’m trying to sleep!” Ginny asked irritably.

Colin lowered his camera and gave her a huge smile. “You’re supposed to be getting up for work anyways, you know, that thing many of us do to make a living. Plus, I’ve a fantastic idea for my next gallery, Ginnybean,” he held up the camera again and continued to flash pictures and talk at the same time. “I’d like to take pictures of people experiencing different emotions. You know, without pose. I’m trying to get loads of expressions, and so far so good. Until now.” He set his camera down and looked at her, his green eyes settling on her with a little displeasure, “You’re completely sullying my photographs.” He huffed and left the room with his camera.

Ginny gaped at the young man. As far as she was concerned, photographers were completely nutters, especially gay ones. Ginny fell back on her bed and closed her eyes. As her body completely relaxed and her eyes shut, the alarm clock woke her up once again. “Get up you great ninny! Your arse will be grass if you’re not at your job in 10 minutes!!”

She really, really hated Monday mornings.

---

Stamping portkey approvals and conducting interviews for potential portkey users was something Ginny really didn’t enjoy. At the moment, a Ravenclaw she had gone to school with was pleading his case to Ginny to let him turn a tie into a portkey so that he could take his girlfriend to a romantic getaway in Greece. As Terry Boot continued with his romantic explanation, Ginny was getting quite annoyed and jealous. Why couldn’t she have someone who would whisk her off to Greece? Why couldn’t she have someone to give her diamonds? Why couldn’t she be the one who would be thoroughly shagged by the night’s end? But not with Terry Boot, God no.

“So please, Ginny,” Terry pleaded, interrupting her thoughts, “I really need this portkey to surprise Susan.”

Ginny silently grumbled to herself. She had half a mind to reject his plea, but then she might be fired and she really did need the job…no matter how much she hated it. She forced a smile on her face and announced, “Of course Terry, I’ll have it you by tomorrow morning.”

Terry got up and began to thank her about how much it meant to him. While he continued his rambling, Ginny smiled at him and stamped “approved” in big red block letters for the millionth time that day.

---

“Hermione thanks so much for getting me out of that hell hole,” Ginny said gratefully, as she sipped her iced tea. She and Hermione were lounging at a new café called Mama’s Stuff in Muggle London not far from the Leaky Cauldron. The food served was good for the soul and reminded Ginny of her mother’s hot homemade meals. The place was usually crowded, but the two women had avoided coming at the lunch rush hour and there were only a handful of people in the café.

Hermione laughed, saying, “Then why are you still working there Ginny? It’s been about a year, and you yourself said that after a year you would quit,” she pointed out. “Why not join the International Magic Cooperation sect? I know that you love traveling and working with new people. It could be a perfect fit.”

Ginny scrunched her face, “And spend my days measuring a cauldron’s thickness? I think not,” she said distastefully. “This job is just a stepping stone for me anyways, I haven’t found the right job yet, and plus I need the money right now, even if my boss is a wanker.” Hermione had come to pick her up just in time to see her and her boss, Marcus Flint in a heated row. He had been lecturing Ginny on her carelessness in casting the exact location on the portkeys.

“Flint can be such an arse at times,” Hermione declared and suddenly smiled, “but he’s become quite a hot number since he had his teeth redone.”

Ginny rolled her eyes. She was too used to women saying that Flint had become quite handsome since he had work done on his teeth. Not a day went by without some tart walking into Flint’s office and not coming out without looking completely disheveled. “Disgusting Hermione, just disgusting; how you can even think that way about Marcus Flint of all people?” she joked.

The two young women continued to laugh and reminisce about old school friends as they continued their lunch long into the afternoon.

---

Ginny huffed and took in a large intake of breath as she strode up the last few steps up to her flat. The lift was in repairs, and walking up seven flights of stairs was not easy for someone who wasn’t keen on exercising and loved to plow through sweets. She cursed to herself and wondered why she agreed to room with Colin in the first place. She had come home to the Burrow quite late one night, and found her mother waiting up for her. They began a heated argument, which resulted in Ginny finding a flat with her friend Colin Creevey the very next day.

She fumbled with the keys and opened the door. Once she entered she was welcomed with the smell of freshly baked apple pie. That was another quirk of living with a gay room mate; they were fantastic cooks. Colin could be quite odd at times, like him photographing her in the early morning, but his cooking all but made up for it. She dropped her purse and parchments as she crossed the room to the apple pie. She was careful to avoid the many photographs lying on the table; Colin could be a git at times when it came to his photos.

“Mmm, just what I need,” Ginny sighed as the scent of apples and cinnamon overtook her senses.

After coming home from Flint’s excessive lecturing and stamping so many times her hand hurt, it was good to be greeted by sinfully good deserts. She knew she would need to play Quidditch with Harry and Ron for an entire weekend to burn away all the calories. As she was about to cut into the pie, she noticed that there were rosettes of whipped cream on the counter. That struck her as odd for Colin was very clean and usually scolded her for not doing her share of chores. “Hmm, that’s quite strange,” Ginny said to herself. She looked down on the floor and noticed that there were even more drips of whipped cream. Not only were they in the kitchen but some near the living room and some on the stairs. After even more careful examination, Ginny found clothing and shoes that obviously didn’t belong to Colin. As Ginny contemplated what exactly was going on, it suddenly struck her. Colin had someone over and they were doing much more than eating whipped cream and apple pie.

Just as Ginny was about to scoop up the slice of pie, and visit the neighbour, she heard someone coming down the stairs.

“Oh don’t worry Ollie, I’ll be doing much more with that whip after I get us some more pie,” came Colin’s familiar voice.

Ginny squeaked and was about to head to the door when she came face to face with Colin, in nothing but his tight Gryffindor shorts. The overexcited smile on his face disappeared once he saw Ginny.

Ginny flushed, this wasn’t the first time that she had caught him with one of his lovers.

“Gin,” Colin said nervously, “what are you doing back so early?”

“Well you see, I was—,” Ginny started but was cut off when she heard another voice.

“Oh Colin, get back up here and fu--,” the male trailed off as he saw Ginny.

“Oliver??” Ginny exclaimed with widened eyes, “Oliver Wood?!” She was taken back. She really couldn’t believe that Oliver was … gay. He was such a guys guy back in Hogwarts, and he went through handfuls of women back then as well. Oh, this was a surprise. She really couldn’t believe that the twins had never told her of Oliver’s … sexual preferences. Ginny looked at Oliver once again. He was quite fetching half naked. Tanned, tall, slightly muscled and hot as sin … the good ones were always gay.

“Err … yes,” Oliver said nervously, “I think I’d best be going now.” He hurried up the stairs up to Colin’s room, with a less than agreeable Colin after him.

“Oh my,” Ginny said to herself as she walked her way back to the kitchen counter. Oliver Wood. Gay. It was always the good ones. Always.

---

“You know what Ginny,” Colin slowly walked towards his room mate, “you really have this odd knack of popping up when I’m in the middle of something important.” He had been in the middle of a very intense session with the delicious Oliver Wood when Ginny had interrupted them. This resulted in cutting their “meeting” short and having to unwillingly escort Oliver out.

Ginny turned her head quickly towards Colin. “Colin, I already said I was sorry,” taking another bite of her pie.

Colin rubbed his temples and moved to sit across from her. “I know Gin, but you said sorry the last time, and the last time before that, and thank God you didn’t interrupt my session with Terry Boot yesterday, you probably wouldn’t be here right now if you did!” he tried to say calmly.

“Well I can’t help it if it’s an accide—wait did you just say Terry Boot?” she asked in a surprised voice.

“Yes,” Colin answered, “why?”

“But, he’s … he’s straight,” Ginny explained.

Colin frowned. “Really? It didn’t seem like it, he told me this lengthy history of his gayness,” Colin sighed, “that’s the problem with him, he has this really bad habit of talking for hours on end after sex.”

“No, Colin, no,” Ginny argued, “he’s been seeing Susan Bones for over a year now, and you just shagged him yesterday?”

“What?” Colin said, suddenly interested. He was such a sucker for the latest gossip. “But how can that be, he seems so—wait, Ginny stop trying to change the subject.”

Ginny’s mouth formed a small ‘o’, “Colin how can you say that? He’s going on a romantic getaway with her and more or less proposing to her as well!”

Colin rolled his eyes at the girl, “Ginny stop interfering in other people’s affairs. Now back to the matter of hand, you need to stop popping in out of the blue on me, sometimes I think you plan this just to get yourself hot.”

“What?!” Ginny suddenly stood up to her full, yet unintimidating frame and gave Colin an angry glare. “So you think I’m some kind of voyeur? That my sex life is so lacking that I have to see gay men prance around half naked in my apartment? Is that what you think Colin?”

Colin blinked, “Yes actually I do.” He was completely unaffected by Ginny’s temper at the moment, and he knew that he was going to pay for it tomorrow. But right now, he was much too annoyed at her to even think straight.

Ginny began to incoherently sputter at Colin. All he could really understand was that he was a wanker of a roommate, with a dash of idiocy. She finished off by calling him a very inappropriate name, saying his current photo idea sucked and that she was going upstairs.

Colin slowly breathed and yelled up to Ginny that he was going outside to take a fag. Oh he knew that she hated his disgusting habit of smoking but he loved to rile her up over it. With that he took his pack of cigarettes and walked out the door.

---

She hated Colin sometimes, she really did. After she heard the sound of the door slamming, Ginny quietly walked down the stairs and straight towards the apple pie. She had this nasty habit of eating for comfort, which could be why she wasn’t in tip top shape. However, she cut up her fifth slice of pie and began to wallow in her own self pity.

It was sad really, she was 20 years old and had only had sex with one person. Even in her lack of experience, she knew her partner hadn’t been that good. He was decent, but not fantastic. He always left her wanting more and unfulfilled. It had been such a long time since she had been with someone and it was making her anxious for a man’s touch. But she wasn’t spying on Colin and his partners; she really wasn’t interested in Colin’s affairs or the hot men he brought home. Oh no. Of course she wasn’t interested.

“I need to get laid,” Ginny declared to no one in particular.

Ginny pushed away the half eaten apple pie and laid her head on the table. Sometime later, she heard a distinct tapping sound on her window. She looked up and saw an owl with a post. She quickly opened the window and let the owl and cold breeze in. She fed the owl a small treat and it flew off into the night.

“Who in the world could be owling me at this time,” Ginny asked herself.

She slipped the letter out of the envelope and noticed it was from St Mungo’s. She sighed, and fell back on the closest sofa. She knew this was coming, and she didn’t want another reminder of the “incident”, as she called it. The parchment read that her fine was long overdue and they were expecting the 125 Galleons by tomorrow night. Ginny threw the parchment on the coffee table and closed her eyes. This day honestly could not get any worse.

The “incident” had happened about two months ago, when she was still seeing her boyfriend of a year, Roger Davies. They had been in the middle of an intense snogging session, when Roger suddenly had the bright idea to try out a spell he had just discovered. He explained to Ginny the specifics of the spell as she slowly widened her eyes. He couldn’t be thinking of doing this, no he couldn’t. He wanted to enlarge a certain part of his anatomy. Ginny had her doubts about the whole spell, but with a few kisses and caresses he had convinced her. So he laid there while Ginny cast the spell, and at first everything had seemed alright, but then everything went downhill from there. As they continued kissing, touching, something very odd began to happen. His anatomy continued to get larger and it wouldn’t stop. Roger simply told her to just say a shrinking spell and that would reverse the spell. At first it worked, but it happened again. At this point Ginny began to panic, she used the shrinking spell again, but it only grew larger. Somehow Ginny called in a representative from St. Mungo’s, and the representative (with a chuckle) brought Roger to the hospital and treated him. Afterwards, a thoroughly flushed Ginny spoke with the healer and representative. They stated that whoever cast the spell would need to pay a fine of 125 Galleons. Ginny had nodded while her cheeks reddened even more. After the “incident”, Ginny and Roger’s sex life seemed to have plummeted. After a few more weeks of dating, Roger finally called it off, pointing towards communication problems. However, Ginny knew it had been because of the “incident”.

Ginny felt restless and tired. What she really needed was a hot shower and a good night’s rest. With that, she went up the stairs and tried to forget about the entire day.

---

Colin blew out the last of his fag before treading up the stairs to his flat. He really hadn’t meant most of the things he had said to Ginny. He was just vexed that she was always interrupting his intimate moments with some hot bloke. He figured that he needed to apologize to his childhood friend before things really got ugly.

When he finally reached the front door, he was out of breath. “Need to quit smoking soon,” Colin promised to himself. He raked his hands through his hair and finally went in. The flat was empty and all he heard was the water coming from the shower upstairs. ”Good, it’ll give me time to prepare,” Colin thought. He knew that some kind of dessert would always make Ginny feel better and if anything, be more lenient towards his apology. He walked towards the kitchen and noticed the unfinished apple pie and St. Mungo’s official notice. Colin laughed as he remembered when Ginny confided in him about her incident with Roger Davies.

Colin stopped to look at his photos spread out on the table. He had many expressions of random people; sad, happy, lazy, angry. He was missing a surprised look, and contemplated the means of getting it. As he started to get the ingredients for lemon tarts, it suddenly struck him. Ginny was upstairs taking a shower, and she didn’t know that he was home. Colin smiled to himself, grabbed his camera and went upstairs. He knew Ginny was still mad at him, and would get even angrier at him, but he couldn’t deny a chance for great art. He waited outside the shower door as he heard the water turn off. He would just take a quick shot of Ginny in her towel with her surprised look. He would then apologize profusely and explain it was all for art and that he would make her a dozen lemon tarts to make it up to her. And then that would be the end of it.

“Colin, you’re a genius,” he congratulated himself.

---

“Oh damn, I forgot my towel,” Ginny said a loud. She had tossed her towel in the laundry bin and had forgotten to bring in a new one. She had thrown her wand aside in her bedroom in haste to get to the hot water. Ginny figured that since there was no one in the flat, she might as well walk out of the bathroom naked and get her towel. What she didn’t expect was to open the door and be greeted with the flash of a camera.

---

Colin was eagerly waiting for Ginny to walk out. When she did, he took the picture quickly with no time to react to her nakedness. It wasn’t until Ginny had yelled out, “WHAT IN THE BLOODY FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!”, that he had noticed that Ginny wasn’t covered in a towel at all. He lowered the camera and stared at the naked form of Ginny before she tried to cover herself with the bath curtains.

Now if Colin was a straight man, he would be drooling and cocking his head to the side and staring at her. But he wasn’t, plus he had more grace than that. Instead, he sputtered a few excuses and ran down the stairs.

From upstairs, she heard her scream out, “YOU BETTER HAVE A GOOD REASON FOR THIS CREEVEY!”

“I do! It was all for art Ginny! I needed a surprised look for my next exhibit! And I thought you’d be in a towel!” Colin replied as he set the photo on the kitchen counter.

“You are going to die Colin!!” she shouted in reply.

Colin nervously looked around the flat and saw the letter from St. Mungos. “I’ll make it up to you Ginny! Don’t worry! I’ll start by paying the fine for your ‘incident’ with Roger Davies!” He quickly picked up the letter and brought it over to the counter. He took out the reply letter attached to it and filled it out.

“Oh you better Creevey, you better!” hollered Ginny.

It really wasn’t good to have Ginny this mad at him. He found an envelope and put in the 125 Galleons he had found in his sack of money. He scooped up the reply letter, but unknowingness to him, the Polaroid of Ginny was right underneath the reply letter. He sealed up the envelope and went to Ginny’s owl, Athena and told her to take it to St. Mungo’s.

He quickly crossed to the kitchen and began searching for the remainder of the ingredients for the tarts.

“I’m starting to make you some lemon tarts Gin! And they’ll be bloody fantastic!” he yelled back up to her.

“They better be bloody fantastic Colin, or you won’t be able to use that pecker of yours for ‘Ollie’ anymore!” Ginny threatened from upstairs.

Colin gulped. As Colin continued baking, an owl flew into the coming dawn, intent on delivering an envelope filled with a fine that was 2 months, 1 week, and 5 days overdue and a naked picture of Ginny Weasley to St. Mungo’s Hospital.

---

A/N: Well, there you have it, part one of my fanfic. Hopefully it wasn’t too painful? So review please?

2. Two

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.