New Moon
When Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini showed up at the door of New Moon, the massive bouncer had the good grace to step aside. The club, which had reopened its doors but a few weeks prior, was in dire need of patrons such as these, and the bouncer, though of limited intellectual capacity, was no stranger to the fact. The two handsome, young men strolled into the club, shoulders straight and chins held high, the flickering lamplight taking nothing from their aristocratic elegance. Blaise nodded slightly to the witch at the welcome booth. She immediately whispered something into the ear of another, equally pretty witch, who caught up with the two purebloods and escorted them to their private table.
The blaring base of the multiple speakers accompanied the trio into the main room, where a spectacular dance floor boasted several bars and about twice as many private tables. The latter could be isolated at will by a translucent membrane, which rose and fell at the flick of a switch and could filter both the music and undesirable company. At this late hour in the night, most tables were taken by prominent figures of the wizarding world. Draco quickly acknowledged Astoria Greengrass's presence at a nearby table; disappointed by their fruitless relationship, she had been quick to find comfort in an Italian wizard's arms and was celebrating her last night as an unwed woman in the company of her sister and their mutual friends.
Blaise and Draco sat down and ordered two bottles of champagne, one of which was to be sent to the future Astoria Marcolini's table. With casual interest, their eyes scanned the dance floor.
"I like the new decoration," Blaise observed.
"I'm not sure what to make of the oversized bubbles floating about," Draco said.
"I'm sure we'll find out what they're for soon enough."
White and blue spots of light flew across the room, making the sparkly dresses and jewellery of various witches shine in their path. The dance floor grew increasingly full as witches dragged their friends along and their male companions stood on the side, holding the champagne glasses and waiting to be sufficiently inebriated to join the women.
"I haven't seen Ana in a little while," Draco said. "Where have you been keeping her?"
"She went back to St. Petersburg," Blaise replied with a shrug. "She was a dear, but you know how these Eastern Europeans are."
"I'd say England has its fair share of gold-diggers, too," Draco pointed out.
"Yes, but – ah, the purpose of the bubbles becomes clear."
Indeed, five barely clad women now stood inside the bubbles, as though suspended in water. Their graceful movements accompanied the beat of the music, the strings of beads that hung from their belts and bracelets making trails of colour as their limbs undulated in rhythm. Each time they touched the surface of a bubble, it glowed a different colour, casting waves of light onto the crowd beneath them. Suddenly, right in the center of the room, an additional bubble appeared. It found its place amongst the other ones, and then a bright flash lit the room. When people looked up, they saw that the sixth woman had arrived, effortlessly putting her companions to shame.
She was naked but for two golden bands that wrapped across her hips and torso. Her entire body was covered in gold paint, making her flaming red hair seem like the natural complement to her dazzling skin. Less shapely than the other girls, whose curves could have found equals only in erotic film stars, she captured the eye by her demeanour rather than her anatomy. Her body swayed as if transported by the beat, so beautifully and so naturally that she seemed to have music coursing through her veins. An inexpressible bliss lit her face and fuelled her gestures. She seemed on the verge of an ecstasy brought about by dancing, and that very fact made her the very best dancer most wizards present had ever seen.
Breathless like the rest, although he easily hid it behind a façade of indifference, Draco followed the nymph's gestures with growing pleasure. He wondered how it would feel to have her dancing against him like that – the golden paint set aside – with the reckless abandon and joy that burned through her without distorting her dance in any way. Below the bubbles, witches and wizards kept dancing unperturbed, unaware of the stunning spectacle taking place above them. The girl, lively and gracious as a music sprite, danced on.
"Well, well, if it isn't the Weasley girl," Blaise muttered, awe piercing his voice.
Draco only had to keep watching to see that his friend was right. This was indeed the girl who had held Hogwarts' male population on its knees, panting for a chance. He was surprised that Potter let her do this, as he would never have allowed her such behaviour had she been his girlfriend.
"Wasn't she dating Potter?" he asked.
Blaise shook his head distantly, enraptured.
"They broke things off about a year ago. Weren't you reading the tabloids?"
"No, I was trying to stay out of them."
The dark-skinned wizard shrugged but did not dispense Draco with an additional glance. His mind was obviously set on finding out whether the redhead would be willing to console herself in his muscular arms. From the fun she seemed to be having, Draco doubted the woman needed much consoling, and allowed himself to watch, with barely concealed desire, the human fairy dancing in her bubble.
An hour or so later and still she danced, her stamina undiminished, her enthusiasm if anything increased. Below her, the dance floor had somewhat emptied as alcohol and the late hour took their toll. Some witches struggled not to stumble, the fight against inebriety and the pain from their high-heeled shoes already lost. At last, the girls in the bubbles vanished. Soon after, Blaise rose without a word. Draco assumed he was headed to the loo and proceeded to empty yet another flute of champagne, gazing around for a witch he could eventually bring home. Somehow he was no longer as thrilled by the prospect as he had been earlier.
A while later, Draco noticed that his friend hadn't returned. Annoyed, he let his eyes search for the handsome wizard, half-expecting to find him cozying up to a passably intoxicated woman. He found him at one of the bars and immediately headed for him, utterly unfazed by the unmistakeably feminine silhouette he was speaking to. Around them, the music had faded to a languorous rhythm. The lounge-like sonorities melted with the fauve lighting to create a rich, sensual, and laidback atmosphere. From up close, Draco had no difficulty identifying the woman as the Weasley girl, now clad in very simple black pants and a tank-top, her hair tied in a loose bun. She appeared distinctly uncomfortable, and shot Draco a wary and annoyed glance as he approached.
"Come on, Jenny—" Blaise was saying.
"It's Ginevra," she snapped.
"Ginevra," he whispered, his eyes darker than usual. "We both know you need the money, and I'm not asking for much."
"I already told you," she bit back, "I'm a dancer, not a prostitute."
"Let's not use such crude terms, Ginevra. I'm merely looking for a bit of good time, and –"
"Not – with – me," she growled.
She was visibly angry and kept glancing to Blaise's hand, which was firmly wrapped around her arm, but made no attempt to leave. Draco wondered why she, who had never been known for her subtlety in saying "no" and probably had half a dozen bouncers watching over her at this very minute, did not get rid of this man whose behaviour, Draco had to admit, was surprisingly audacious. Distantly feeling like a night in shining armour, Draco stepped in.
"Blaise, they want to give us a complimentary bottle. Why don't you go pick something you like?"
A flame of irritation shot through Blaise's eyes but vanished just as quickly, replaced by a charming and obedient smile.
"Of course. Ginevra," he said, bowing slightly over her hand.
As soon as he had left, Ginny eased noticeably. She remained on her guard, however, and turned to Draco with a hint of defiance.
"What do you want?"
"To rid you of Blaise, obviously."
She stared at him, incredulity painted on her fair features.
"Sure, Malfoy."
"I'm Draco. Pleasure to meet you."
Ginny rolled her eyes but afforded him a small smile.
"Ginevra. Now what do you want?"
"So you work here as a dancer," he said, ignoring her tone.
"Obviously."
"Why?"
"Why not?"
Draco smirked and enjoyed the way her eyes flickered when he did that.
"I can't help but wonder how that horde of overprotective brothers of yours would let you do that."
Ginny shrugged gracefully.
"You won't be surprised to hear that I need the money."
His eyes widened ever so slightly at that.
"So this is your job?"
"Apparently."
They sat in an awkward silence for a while. Draco had a hard time believing that Arthur Weasley, who had been doing rather well for himself, could not support his youngest child.
"It helps me pay for the Mediwitch training. Those two years are surprisingly expensive, and after seven children at Hogwarts, well… I felt kind of bad asking my parents to keep supporting me."
Her admission had eased the tension. The smile that accompanied it made the atmosphere melt somewhat, allowing Draco to pursue the conversation.
"Since when do you want to become a Mediwitch?"
"Well, after I realized Harry Potter-worship was not a viable line of work, I decided being a Mediwitch was what I wanted to do. I was fairly good in Charms, Potions, and Transfiguration, so from there on it was a fairly easy trek – finances set aside."
Draco nodded but refrained from commenting. The only thing that came to mind were insults, and he supposed that was not the best way to woo the young woman.
"How far along are you?"
"Halfway through my second and final year. I'm almost done dancing on the bar," she added, winking.
"In the bubbles, you mean."
"Weekend nights are in the bubble, weekdays are on the bar."
"You're an excellent dancer," he said as noncommittally as he could.
She stared at him pointedly.
"Malfoy, what are you playing at?"
"Draco."
"Whatever."
"Can't I just be complimenting a future Healer on her surprising skills at dancing?"
She blushed then, but he could tell it was not from pleasure or sheepishness.
"What do you mean, 'surprising'?" she hissed.
Belatedly, he realized that his comment was not the most stellar example of his wit and charm. He promptly berated himself for the momentary loss of his smooth tongue.
"I mean that I didn't expect you, Ginny Weasley, to be dancing like a professional in London's fanciest nightclub."
"I am a professional," she said dismissively, a hint of pride creeping into her voice. She smiled impishly at him then. "You should have seen Harry's face when he first saw me here."
"Oh?" was all Draco could muster. Though he no longer loathed the bespectacled wizard, he did not particularly enjoy discussions revolving around his ex-nemesis – especially when the discussion was held with said nemesis' ex-girlfriend.
"I think his first instinct was to get me down from there." She grinned evilly. "Little Miss Demelza Robins had to beg him not to. I'm sure the bouncers helped as well."
"You don't seem too fond of Miss Robins."
"You wouldn't be either if the love of your life started dating her three weeks after your break-up."
"I'm sorry," he offered unconvincingly.
"I'm not. At least she'll be the one dealing with Harry's fame and the associated invasions of privacy. Not to mention, the twins don't like her," she added, as a purely Machiavellian gleam shot through her golden eyes.
Very few wizards still remained. Standing amongst his alcohol bottles and sparkling clean glasses, the bartender eyed the couple with interest. He had recognized Draco Malfoy easily and was surprised to find him conversing pleasantly with Ginny; if he remembered anything from his years at Hogwarts, their respective families had not been particularly friendly. He had seen both Slytherins walk up to the redhead and couldn't help but question their motives. Ginny seemed amused enough, however, so the bartender didn't step in. When she pushed her empty glass toward him, she gave him a nod that confirmed his thoughts.
"Well, Draco, it was nice running into you," Ginny said pleasantly enough. "I'm going to head home, though. I have classes tomorrow."
Draco stood as she did, absently noting that her figure was even nicer from up close.
"Will you allow me to escort you to the door?"
"In case I get lost on my way out?" she snickered. "Sure, why not."
They headed for the door around the time that the lights came on, allowing Ginny to get a good glance at her renewed acquaintance. She remembered him from Hogwarts, when the war and Voldemort's expectations had exacted their toll from his already pointy face and wiry limbs. No longer did shadows find a resting place in the hollows below his cheeks or in the creases around his eyes. No longer did the spectre of greater, darker things coat his gestures with the nervousness of a tracked animal. He had grown into his body and acquired the feline elegance that had been Lucius Malfoy's, his features becoming handsome and his air naturally refined as peace settled in. Ginny surprised herself by finding him attractive, and rewarded him with a smile when he helped her put on her coat.
She liked men who treated her like a lady. Draco knew she would, as most women did, and he took the childish gratitude in her smile as his trophy for the evening. They stepped out into the street, soft snow flurries dappling their coats with dark spots. The streetlights shone oddly as they usually do when the air is wet, coating the humid pavement with a shiny film. A chilly wind whirled around them. It hastened their perfunctory goodbyes, and but a few minutes later, both wizards had Apparated away.