Getting up at six o'clock in the morning was really not a problem for Ginny. She had been an early riser as a child and the notion never seemed to leave her. The day she was due to arrive at TH's studio she had woken up at four o'clock and feeling anxious. She took her time getting ready. There was no rush through her shower or her breakfast. Even so, she felt like time was dragging on and with each minute her anxiety only grew larger. To settle her nerves she went into her bedroom and pulled open the bottom drawer of her dresser to dig the Hawthorn book out. She sat on her newly made bed, wrinkling the covers, but caring little. Gently, she pulled the book open, skipping the title and content pages and going straight for the photographs. Generally she was a girl that knew what she wanted and went after it. What she wanted at this moment was some reassurance she was not about to do something utterly crazy. Looking at these exquisite photos helped to calm her nerves and assure her of the abilities of the artist. A man who could take photographs like this could not be horrible.

She glanced at the clock and saw the time. Realizing if she did not hurry she was going to be late, she replaced the book into its hiding place, grabbed her purse on the way to the door and locked it on her way out. She hailed herself a car and informed the driver of the address. When the car came to a stop she swallowed the lump in her throat and gathered her nerve as she paid the driver his fee. The building she had been directed to seemed nothing special at all, mostly brick and rather old looking with a few iron embellishments here and there on window sills or the rare small balcony. It hardly seemed like a place to create art. Then again, what did she know? Ginny set her jaw as she walked up the steps to the main door. Here goes nothing, she thought with a slightly grim tone echoing in her head.

Ginny noticed an intercom panel next to the building's door. Pushing the one for 3C a voice soon crackled over the intercom demanding to know what she wanted. It sounded like the assistant she had met before. A bit startled by his quick demanding tone she had nearly given her real name but managed to save herself the embarrassment of not appearing to not know who she was.

"Ah, Miss Brown. On time. Brilliant." A moment later a buzzing was heard and she could open the door.

The studio was not hard to find at all. The minute she entered the building she was met with a flight of stairs, and since the full address noted the studio was at 3C, it was to the third floor she traveled and down to door 'C'. With the determination she had gathered before entering the building, she raised her hand to knock. A moment later the door opened and it was the same squat man-boy that had interviewed her in the first place. Ginny was beginning to think this was Hawthorn and he had some sort of split personality problem.

"Right this way."

He hardly seemed happy about it, and she resisted the urge to make a face at him that either would have gotten her a funny look or a sharp remark to stop acting like an idiot. Either way, Mr. Man-boy was leading her into the studio, which just appeared to be a flat that had been converted into a more open studio-like space. To say the inside of this room reflected the outside of the building would have been an utter and complete lie. The windows that had looked small and uninviting were much larger and could flood the room with light when the heavy dark curtains were pulled back. As it was, in this moment only the nearest windows were free of their drapery and the back of the studio was enigmatic, if not for the lack of light, but the partitions that could be used as movable walls. There was no sign of TH, not as if she could recognize him anyway. His artist books were free of any pictures of him, and now that she thought about it none of the articles about him had his picture either. It was quite odd, something she remembered Seamus mentioning first off. She'd have to remember to Floo him when all of this was over.

Directly to the left of the door was a small office-looking area. It was here she was handed a stack of papers.

"First off, we'll need you to look over and sign an agreement. Standard things, mostly. It states that you are to be paid for the day's work at the end of the session and the artist retains the rights to his work. If you wish for any copies, arrangements can be made, but you will need to mention it now or not at all. If you chose to have copies at a later date you will pay the regular buyer fee, so of course now is the better time. If for some reason you are unhappy with the shoot you are free to leave at any time, but any photos taken prior may be used regardless. The moment you sign these contracts you are saying that you understand them and agree to all their terms. I didn't mention everything, so be sure to read them through. Coffee?"

Ginny found herself blinking at the papers instead of taking the rest of the studio in. The assistant talked so fast she believe she had only heard half of what he said.

"Uh, yes, please. Cream if you have it." She got a nod and off he went to the kitchen on the other side of the room. Alone, she looked through the papers in her hands. They seemed perfectly reasonable and really, for the sum he was paying, there was little for her to complain about, even if she felt like signing these papers would somehow be wrong, as if it somehow affected her soul. By the time her coffee was set down to her right she had signed "Mary Brown" upon the contracts and they were taken away.

"This way to hair and makeup," she was told loftily.

Ginny followed like some sort of lost puppy. Strictly speaking, she was not the feminine sort. Gossip and makeup were not high on her list of things to take place in. If she wore any makeup at all, it was often some type of neutral lip gloss and possibly an eye shadow. What would you expect from someone who had grown up in a house full of boys, and her closest girlfriend considered loafers to be the most sensible and fashionable shoe available? Not much in the way of fashion, that is for sure. When she was sat into the lone salon chair she mentally told her heart to calm itself. With the same nerve calming exercises she used before a Quidditch game, she was soon perfectly relaxed. A couple of hours later the stylist was finished with her and sent her toward the changing area, where a white robe lay waiting. She had no trouble switching her clothes for the robe, but wondered what it was going to be like to get rid of it.

"Miss Brown. He's ready when you are." Man-boy had been waiting on her.

With a steadying breath she exited the changing room and was met with the assistant for a final time. This time he held out for her a mask-powder blue with the most intricate swirling detail of silver inlaid.

"Put this on and enter through there."

She was pointed toward an opening into the darker area of the studio. At least there was no natural light from the windows allowed to shine. Ginny nodded and took the mask, carefully putting it on and adjusting it to fit her face. Remarkably, it fit perfectly as her fingers felt along the mask's lines that covered most of her forehead and down to her cheeks. Making sure to take steady steps, she entered through the makeshift doorway, and what she saw amazed her.

It was simple yet complex in the same way. Soft light played on a deep red lounging chaise. Vases of several sizes were painstakingly arranged to create the background, each of these filled with flowers giving the entire area a natural perfumed scent. The light, she realized, was from candles and a different type of curtain that covered one of the windows along the wall.

"Take a seat on the chaise, please, and remove your robe. There is some fabric laid out to drape around yourself."

The voice had startled her, and Ginny snapped her head in that direction, only to be met with the back of a blond head of a taller than average man she now assumed to be TH. He was paying more attention to his camera on a tripod than her at the moment. She noticed then that a second camera was on a nearby table. She did as she had been instructed. It was easier than she imagined to disrobe. Then again, she was doing so without watchful eyes. For that she was thankful. Settling herself onto the sofa was harder than she anticipated. Firstly, she felt ridiculous. Secondly, embarrassed. She had draped the section of diaphanous fabric around herself as best she could. The nature of the sofa required that she lean and so her legs were forced to stretch out along its full length.

"Alright," she announced when she was finished fussing about with herself. TH turned around and Ginny practically had a heart attack as she sat up with a jerk.

"Miss Brown, is it? This will go a lot easier if you relax. Milton mentioned you have never modeled before. And lean back as you were, unless something is wrong."

Still in shock from seeing a face she thought she would never see again, she did as she was told. Draco Malfoy! It couldn't be! Surely not. Posing as some Muggle artist... what for? It was some strange case of twins. Yes. That had to be it.

"Put your left arm up on the arm of the chair. No. Your other left. Yes, stay there," he drawled with slight annoyance. No. That was definitely Malfoy. That drawl could only be connected to one pointy, pale blond twit.

She switched her arms accordingly and stayed still. She had two options: stay or go. As it was, he apparently had no idea who she was, didn't seem to have any type of clue she was not Mary Brown. And she really needed the money, a powerful motivator. Her resolve hardened as she decided to stay, and possibly find out anything useful. "So what do you do this for anyway?"

"I'd prefer it if you kept conversation to a minimum. If you want an interview you'll have to make a separate appointment." His sarcasm was dry.

Ginny scoffed and it caused a smirk which only made her narrow her eyes, and glance toward the window.

"Stay there." He instructed.

It was hard to freeze yourself on command. It actually took quite a bit of concentration. She could not see him from this angle. All she could hear was the snapping noise the camera made. And then the snaps became louder and spaced farther apart. Try as she might to stay where she was, when the snap was closer to herself than previously, her head jerked and she was caught surprised by how close he was. Her surprise was clear in her eyes and the small parting of her lips. The camera snapped again. Her lips pressed into a loose line. The camera lowered and his face was now visible, taking in her form in a calculating way. It was odd to be under that gaze; even though it was not glaring, it was not hate-filled or accompanying some snide remark.

"Move your right hand to across your stomach... and hold the cloth there." He paused to look at her and adjusted the see-through fabric to get some better folds, and in a final touch brushed some of her curled hair over one shoulder.

Ginny held her breath to keep from acting in some way. What way she would have acted she had no idea. The camera snapped again and she let out a breath. The long minutes that followed were full of silence, save for the shutter snapping. It was Draco that spoke first, after telling her to adjust yet another thing and then to hold still.

"You should have started modeling sooner."

"What?" She rose a brow in confusion, as he had just breeched his no conversation rule, though that could have been a sarcastic rule only.

"Modeling. You've got a beautiful face and figure. I'm surprised this is the first time you've ever done anything, considering your look."

She wanted to snort a laugh. Her look. "I've had better things to do. It's never something that's crossed my mind, anyway."

"Sit up and come stand by the window. Yes. Wrap the cloth around you more. There." The snapping continued as the only noise until he spoke again. "So you've what? Lost those better things to do? Or let me guess, the money was a little too good and you need it."

Ginny didn't like that he had guessed so easily. So he wasn't an idiot. That didn't mean she wanted him nosing about. "How about you answer my question. Why this? Photography?" She adjusted herself and ended up sitting on the windowsill, though she had a hand waved at her to adjust her position yet again.

"It's given me something I was missing," he replied as he snapped away again. "Something I never realized I needed. I supposed it's given me my life back."

She had not expected him to answer so honestly. The truth of it was in his voice, and that gave her a small amount of alarm. Draco Malfoy and honesty were not something she would ever put together. He had always been a lying snake, trying his best to ferret out the best thing for himself. He was a selfish bastard.

Silence filled the room again, not even the shutter of the camera snapped, though he was still looking at her through it. In turn she looked in his direction, a mixture of conflicted emotions running through her face. Finally the shutter snapped and caused her to blink.

"You were right," she said quietly. "I do need the money. I don't care about fashion or modeling or anything of the sort." There was a small laugh.

"I don't blame you." And a few more snaps of the camera. "I have what I need. Milton should be back by now. He'll pay you whatever way you want." His back turned on her and his attention was once again directed at his cameras rather than her.

Quickly she untangled herself from the flimsy see-through fabric and slipped into the robe. She didn't see him turn and watch her exit as her barefoot steps took her to the changing room quickly. Practically throwing her clothes on, she headed for Milton Manboy to end this day as fast as possible. It was far too strange for her liking. She took her money in notes within an envelope that she shoved hastily in her purse as she left the building two steps at a time. Outside the sun was beginning to lean itself toward evening. She hailed a cab car and with every turn she let a little sigh of relief leave her, happy to have the day over with and never to be thought about again. That is, right after she Flooed Seamus with the day's events.