The Modelling Competition
Reporters from all sorts of newspapers and photographers from countless magazines, Witch Weekly included, were everywhere, some holding Quick Quotes Quills out at the ready as the glamorous event was about to take place on November 14th on the ground of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry. Already there were sporadic flashes of cameras across the packed Great Hall and some quills scribbling furiously before the splendid night had even begun.
The hall was especially refurbished to suit the requirements for such an auspicious fashion show. Why there were having a fashion show Harry could never fathom. The area at the High Table was magically transformed into a stage, with marvellous black curtains that shimmered with silver glittering at either sides of the far walls. In the middle was a long catwalk that stretched from the front of the hall to a little over halfway to the great oak doors. The ceiling was enchanted to sparkle all the conceivable colours but were also darkened and metallic, and were glittering and moving around the ceiling in a wonderful kaleidoscope of colour and light.
The benches of the Great Hall were rearranged. Some were parallel and adjacent to the catwalk and some directly in front of it, stretching almost all the way to the doors of the hall. A few VIPs, mainly the people from Sorcey Sorcerer were there, and some other famous wizard clad in a remarkably uptight purple tweet robes, and witch clothing designers were present in the first row, the parallel ones, Harry could recognize some faces from the Ministry. The teachers and Dumbledore were the few that also sat in the front row, directly in front of the catwalk. The rest of the school that wasn't participating in the modelling itself was sitting at the other benches. Harry and his friends were all situated between their teachers and the VIPs, at the end of the first parallel row with the runway.
Dumbledore and the Chairman of Sorcey Sorcerer had made brief speeches before the beginning of the event, who were followed by fervent and rather impatient clapping. Then the Great Hall dimmed considerably. The loud rumble of excited voices was reduced to hushed whispers as the event finally drew to a start. The whispers died out subsequently, with only the occasional flashing of a camera to be seen in the dimness. Next, the catwalk became illuminated with flying, brilliant floating sparks of light, like magnesium burning in air, adorning the floor and sides of the catwalk.
Slow, soft music started playing from behind, below and above everyone in the room, inciting excited murmurs from the gathered crowd. The music stopped abruptly. There was an instantaneous suspension of time when the room was quiet and the flashing of cameras seized.
The music started again a lot more forcefully and at a faster tempo, making the ground vibrate with every beat. Roars of cheers spread across the Great Hall but the left wing subsequently died a sudden death with one single potent and murderous glare from the Potions master. If looks could kill. Dumbledore laughed softly at Severus', well, rather reliable demeanour in this case. Needless to say in other times, especially during first year Potions classes, that demeanour wouldn't garner similar praise.
Hermione smiled widely at Harry and Ron before returning her attention to the open curtains at the mouth of the catwalk.
The music suddenly flared and out walked Lavender Brown. She had a white and blue checked scarf around her neck, high brown matte boots that complimented her attractive legs, a small sky blue skirt with brown clovers enchanted to twirl and swim around around the skirt, and a light long beige sleeve jersey. Lavender walked down the catwalk with one hand on her hips and had a brave smile on as he descended down the walkway sharply, perhaps she was in the moment. The crowd cheered for her. She turned modestly around and returned, surrounded by claps of admiration and an inadequate, in Lavender's opinion, number flashes of the camera. Dumbledore smiled warmly at her retreating figure.
Before Lavender Brown disappeared from the stage, Zabini walked out with very obvious looking colours; white and green. He wore short black leather boots, a silver silk tank top and green corduroy pants. The majority of the wooing crowd were girls from nearly all the houses, the guys just clapped perfunctorily. Three more students, alternating in sex, came out after him, each wearing more modern witch and wizard clothing designs and were in turn awarded with appreciative applause from the watching crowd.
Then, Draco Malfoy walked out.
Harry had never questioned his sexual orientation until that moment, one single short moment in time. This effect had to have not been exclusive to him.
Draco Malfoy stepped out of the black shimmering curtains clad with white Italian shoes, brilliant white leather pants that weren't too hugging and not too loose, a white plush fur coat with grey lateral stripes, big grey glasses that became transparent at the bottom, and he was bare chested, no shirt under the fur coat. His platinum blonde hair was slicked back neatly, without the gel, and some of it was fluttering behind him as he sauntered down the aisle. He still had on the Malfoy family ring on one of his long, pale aristocratic fingers and had the requisite confident smirk playing at his lips; he knew he was hot, if the make up artists at the back couldn't keep their hands off of him then the spectators were in for a rude awakening.
The crowed went cra-zy! An all of a sudden uproar! Shouts of 'Marry me Malfoy!' and other proclamations of undying love could be heard from here and there from the least suspected people! Least expected as in Luna Lovegood and Parvati Patil (the latter one of Malfoy's most passionate haters). Indeed it seemed most weren't immune to Draco's attractive show, they probably weren't even rooting for the clothes but the wearer himself. The students and VIPs clapped vigorously at the descending god of all things beautiful, eyes smarting with tears of joy and awe, hands paining from excessive clapping, and voices hoarse from screaming so much.
Hermione was applauding wildly, her hands a blur of digits, and her eyes shining with admiration at Malfoy, damn him for being such a prick but damn his thrice for looking like that, it really wasn't fair. Ron was blinking furiously, seeming as if trying to ward off an effect of some kind and was eyeing Malfoy with forced disgust.
Harry was gaping openly at Malfoy, his eyes following the gorgeous figure down the catwalk. He tried to look away but his eyes refused, so he closed his mouth instead, which was more acquiescent in complying with his orders after been caught by Malfoy looking smugly at him. Malfoy's chest was alabaster pale, luminous skin stretched over lightly defined muscle, the balance between prominently masculine and slender, normal built because Malfoy certainly wasn't buff and he certainly wasn't lacking definition in muscle tone. Even Malfoy's forehead looked sexy! His clothing really matched his complexion and his platinum hair. Harry just couldn't help it and his mouth fell open again.
Malfoy's smirk grew as he halted at the end of the catwalk. The screams became even louder and more desperate and the camera flashes becoming so frequent that they were forming an almost continuous blanket of white light in his eyes as he took it all in. He stopped at the front end for several seconds to revel and drink in the admiration and more than generous flashing of the cameras. He then turned around and saw Potter staring at him with awe and with his jaw hanging open. Malfoy's smirk grew even more at his nemesis' ogling.
He then stopped right in front of him and slowly bent his knees to get lower to Harry's level, the runway was above everyone's head, except for Goyle, Crabbe, Weasley's and some of the teacher staff. He stood with his knees and legs and then took off his glasses. Harry couldn't move. He saw Malfoy go down to take off his glasses and then come closely to his face enough to feel his breathe. Harry loathed to admit it then but damn Malfoy looked good, and up close he had full view to Malfoy's pale face with no trace of pollutants like blemishes, pimples, freckles, moles, absolutely nothing, just smooth luminous skin only conceivable created by the gods themselves, just like the rest of his body, ethereal. Harry's deep, questioning emeralds melted into stunning silver and he forgot that the rest of the world existed. Malfoy was smirking at him with a knowing and triumphant glint in his eyes.
Malfoy leant over the edge of the walkway. If it was anybody else, the move would look precarious and stupidly risky. But Malfoy had this graceful air about him that made you believe everything else in the world bent to his whims, just like the edge of the catwalk wouldn't betray him by letting him topple over. How did Malfoy manage to do that was a question his closest friends had quite a lifetime asking themselves.
"Come on, Potter, aren't you game? See what you're missing out on?" he said, indicating this when his eyes roaming all around the Great Hall. He looked at Harry again, sat on his haunches and continued, "You can only beat me to the snitch Potter," He then lightly roamed his hands over his chest sexily and languidly, tilting his head slightly backwards. "Nothing more." With that he stood up elegantly again and starting walking up the catwalk. People were screaming their lungs dry at Malfoy's actions when he was talking to Potter and were rooting him on as he traversed the length of the runway once more. Malfoy took all of this within in stride and made his way to the curtains with measured steps.