A/N: Thanks to all readers and reviewers, especially tryntee13 and amethyst-rose.

Yes—this is the (slightly) edited version of the chapter. Not a lot is changed, but the original was a more NC-17 for sure.

My cap has come home and I like it very much... Large, full bows of very narrow ribbon fold are the thing.
- Jane Austen muses about fashion in a letter to her sister, Cassandra

A cool breeze kept blowing, gently lifting the sweaty strands of hair from Ginny's forehead. She looked towards the end of the room. A door stood ajar. It hadn't been there before. Draco went out of that door, she thought. It must be where I'm supposed to go, too. Slowly, she got up and walked through it, hearing it close behind her on its own. She was back in the long, dimly lit corridor.

She was sure that it should have been easy to find the luxurious bathroom, but somehow, it wasn't. The walls remained stubbornly blank, or the doors she did find wouldn't open. Ginny was starting to worry. What if I don't find it? I've got to take a bath, that's for sure, and I can't go to the Ball in this! She looked ruefully down at her sweatshirt and trainers. They wouldn't even let me into the scullery dressed like that. I wonder what a scullery is, exactly… She pondered the question as she kept walking along, but she could only conjure up a vague image of dirty pots and pans soaking in a huge sink. It certainly sounded like something that would be part of a ball, though. That's probably where Cinderella would have ended up without the miraculous fairy-godmother transformation. Of course, if I don't find that bathroom, that's exactly the kind of pre-glass-slipper Cinderella I'll be—oof!

She stopped just short of running right into a dark wooden door in front of her. Oh, thank gods! She turned the ornately carved handle.

Ginny stopped in the tiny hallway. Surely there hadn't even been a hallway before? The beautiful woven Persian green and gold carpet was the same, and the marble sinks, and the edge of the round tub she could just see round the corner. But there was a little table with a vase of full-blown roses on it, just in front of her. No. That hadn't been there. Neither had the teak and green light fixtures, or the row of golden razors she could just see if she peeked.

I haven't been in here before, she realized. It's just not quite… right. Everything isn't the same. Did it make a difference, though? Did every one of these luxurious bathrooms actually have to be exactly the same? Still, she hesitated. It just doesn't seem right…

Something moved in the mirror set into the opposite wall. Ginny stifled her gasp. A flash of blindingly bright light; a head of silvery hair. Oh, gods! Draco!

He stepped out from the other side of the room, no more than a few yards from her, his back turned to her. Without thinking twice, Ginny dove under the table.

Her breathing seemed horribly loud. She tried to concentrate on keeping it as quiet as she could. Why is he standing so still? He had to hear that. Why doesn't he turn round? He's going to reach down and pull me out of here any second. Oh, why did I do this in the first place?

She should just get out from under the table, of course. There really wasn't any dignified way to do it, but the longer she waited, the more likely it was that a simple mistake would turn into something much dodgier, trickier, and certainly exquisitely embarrassing. So that was exactly what she'd do. Ginny decided that she would certainly scramble out from the table and announce her presence, right that second.

Really. She would.

He turned away from her partly, to the side, and his hand went to his belt. Oh. Ginny felt herself blush. She didn't really need to see Draco doing that…

But he kept walking forward as his fingers moved on his trouser buttons, one by one. He stopped right next to the tub, his hand on its side.

He's about to take a bath, realized Ginny. That meant that Draco Malfoy was about to take all of his clothes off and then slip into a tub of steaming water. Before that, of course, he'd stand around starkers for a few seconds, at the very least. And she'd be forced to hide and watch the entire thing. She'd have no choice. If she'd only got out from under that table right away, then none of this would ever have happened. How did I get myself into this? She wasn't quite sure; even now, when nothing had ever seemed quite so inevitable, she didn't really know.

His trousers fell and puddled around his ankles, and then he shoved his boxers down around his lean hips. In a flash, she knew what he was really about to do, and that a close-up view of the activity was much, much more than she had bargained for when she got under that table.

She couldn't get up and leave. She couldn't move. She could close her eyes, though. She could even stop up her ears, so that she wouldn't hear any sounds he might make.

But she didn't do any of these things, so she watched the last scrap of Draco's clothing below his waist fall away to the floor. From the side, in the soft, subtle light above the tub, Ginny saw him naked once again, as she now knew she had never quite believed she would see him.

Ginny watched as it hypnotized as Draco reached down and seized himself firmly in one of his powerful hands. He looked down at himself, and she wondered fleetingly what he was thinking about. He whispered something too softly for her to hear. Then he let go, and Ginny let out her breath. Had he changed his mind? But he was only dipping his hand in the soapy water of the tub. He turned back and took himself in hand again, and Ginny could no longer think, but could only watch.

It was his face that she couldn't stop watching, his contorted, beautiful, troubled face. Why? she wondered. This was a moment of stolen pleasure for him, at least, so why did he look so unhappy, as if no satisfaction could ever touch him?

She watched every moment of his shivering release, her own breath coming in soft, quick pants in perfect time to each pulse of it. He fell back against the tub a little as it ended, whispering. He said only one word, but it was very clear.

Ginny.

Her gasp of shock was very loud in the silent room.

Draco turned. His hair stood up in little wisps against his sweaty forehead, she saw now. He frowned slightly. Oh gods. Oh gods. Oh…

"Who's there?" he asked.

He had seen her! Frantically, her mind raced between options and found none. Well, wait—there's that charm, that one Bill used, what was it, the Scribby, Scrumbby, Scrappy- She couldn't stop chasing after the name of the spell as Draco stared and stared at her.

Scimbare! She remembered it now. It didn't seem like a particularly good idea. I'd probably just turn myself into an orange frog. And after catching me spying on him, Malfoy would never change me back.

"Come out," said Draco.

Ginny didn't even think of disobeying, or of trying to get away. She did as he asked. Somehow or other, he had pulled up his boxers by the time she reached him, her legs trembling so hard that she could barely stand up. What is he going to say? What am I going to do? Oh, this is the worst… I can't believe… how can I look him in the face after this…

She felt his hand on her chin, and then he was forcing her face upwards to look into his.

Draco's eyes were large and very dark, the silver swallowed up almost completely by the black pupils. He stared at her without speaking.

What on earth's going on?

"Ginny?" he finally asked.
A memory stirred in her mind.

They had been lying intertwined in the room at the Crystal Palace a month before, the very same room they had just left only a few days earlier. Draco had turned all of his exquisitely refined expertise on Ginny to rack her body and mind with incredible pleasure, and he'd finally allowed her to give him release in return. But then something else had happened.

As she held him in her arms, he had called her by her name. Just as he had done now. Ginny.

But he hadn't remembered. Will you fucking tell me what happened, Weasley! I don't remember it; I never remember what happens right afterwards. Yes. That was what he had said; Ginny remembered it now.

Like a flash, everything fell into place.

He won't remember this, she thought. But she knew, too, that she would have only a few minutes with this other Draco, if even that much.

"Draco," she asked urgently. "Why did you call my name?"

"Because I'm yours, Ginny," he said, and he took her hand and put it on his heart.

This time, she didn't cry. She looked into his face, and she knew that this Draco was no longer a complete stranger to her. She couldn't have said exactly when she had seen the first signs. Every time he had smiled in the past few days, she thought there might have been just the faintest trace. She thought perhaps that she had seen him in their dance, or when her hair had spilled over his scar, or in the moment when he had kissed her on her forehead. Only a glimpse, but yes, she thought that maybe she had seen him. But the moment was ending, as it had to do.

She kissed his fingers and put them back on his chest. "Goodbye, Draco."

His face crumpled. "You're going away."

"Not for very long," she promised. "You'll see me again."

He looked after her with a bewildered expression on his face, but there was a hint of that smile, she thought. Just a hint.

Ginny drew his head down to hers, and pressed a kiss between his beautiful grey eyes. Then she turned away quickly and left the bathroom, before she lost the control she had worked for so hard and so long.

Ginny found her own bathroom very quickly after that. She soaked in the tub for a while, unwilling to relax too much or for too long. It felt gloriously good to be clean, though; she thought that there was no doubt about that. She dried off with one of the plush towels, critically watching her reflection in the opposite mirror. Slowly, she let the towel fall and looked at her naked self.

"It's a nice enough body, after all," Ginny whispered, as if trying to convince an unknown audience. "It'll do."

"Oh, it'll more than do, dear," twittered a cheery voice from somewhere behind her.

Ginny shrieked and grabbed the towel.

"Now there's no need to get your knickers in such a twist," the voice said soothingly. "Although you're not yet wearing them, of course, and oh, they're such lovely knickers too. I can't wait until you see them!"

Ginny clutched the towel to her chest. "Who are you?"

"Why, I'm Lucenta, dear," said the voice. "I'm dreadfully sorry that I didn't introduce myself straightaway. But I can't bear to see girls measuring themselves in the mirror and finding their bodies wanting. I do always try to say something encouraging."

"Well, I wasn't finding myself wanting, exactly; I was mostly just thinking that if Dr—if anyone liked the frail, delicate type, that I wasn't ever going to be it, for all that I'm pretty short—wait. Wait a minute." The voice was definitely coming from the mirror itself, she realized. "You're an Inanim, aren't you?"

"But of course I am, dear," Lucenta said proudly. "A Malfoy Inanim, which is the very best sort to be."

A swift memory ran through Ginny's mind of exactly what happened on the chaise longue in that bathroom one month before. Draco had followed her in there, he'd guided her while she touched and toyed with herself, and then- Oh, gods! She groaned inwardly and gave a surreptitious peek sideways. But she couldn't even see the chaise longue while standing in front of the mirror, which reassured her a bit.

"You're, uh—not like Caldera," was all that Ginny could think to say.

"No, I'm most certainly not," said Lucenta. "I'm far more helpful, and tonight, I'm here to help you."

Could that mirror see what happened in the tub? For her continued peace of mind, Ginny decided not to even try to find out.

"I don't understand," she said. "How could you help me?"

The mirror parted and swung open, so quickly that Ginny had to step back. She caught her breath. She was looking into a wardrobe filled with gleaming colors; she couldn't even begin to identify all the dresses, but her hands reached out to the smooth silks and satins, the glittering brocades, the ruby reds and emerald greens and filmy clouds of white tulle. Ugh. Not all that pink, though. And the ruffles!

"It's time to prepare you for the Ball, Ginny Weasley," said Lucenta.
The towel was somehow neatly whisked away. Ginny gave an involuntary cry of alarm.

"I do hope you weren't planning on wearing that," said Lucenta, in rather disapproving tones. "It's finest Egyptian cotton, of course, but it simply won't do."

"No, of course not, but, uh…" Naked, Ginny squirmed.

Lucenta laughed. "Oh, my dear! To be nude in front of an Inanim isn't nakedness. Don't you know that? No, I suppose you don't. The Weasleys don't have them, do they?"

"Uh, no. We never had house-elves, either. Whatever's that?" Ginny looked dubiously at the boned chemise hanging in mid-air.

"It's a Regency corset, dear. Really, you ought to thank your lucky stars
that the committee hasn't done Victorian balls in ever such a long time. If you've ever been laced into a corset from that era—" Lucenta shuddered.

"Um, no, I haven't." Ginny decided then and there that she wanted to avoid the experience for the rest of her life. In fact, she wasn't sure about this one.

"The gown will never fit correctly without it," said Lucenta. Her voice was gentle, but held a hint of iron.

"Oh, all right," sighed Ginny, raising her arms to her sides. At least it was some sort of clothing.

The laces of the corset were surprisingly comfortable, providing just a bit of support. But her breasts seemed pushed up over the top to a rather alarming degree, thought Ginny. The gown would cover that, of course, she thought as a thin lace petticoat was neatly tucked round her waist. They were very modest during the Regency period. She was almost sure that she must have heard that somewhere. Wait. Something's missing.

"Where are the knickers, Lucenta?"

"Oh, that was only in a manner of speaking, dear," said the mirror. "There aren't any actual knickers."

"Aren't… any knickers?" echoed Ginny.

"Oh, no. Those were never worn at the time of the Ball, so they're not included."

"I'm supposed to go around without knickers?"

"Well, dear," said the mirror with a twinkle, "everyone else will be doing the same thing. You might think of that."

"I'll bet Malfoy gets to wear them," muttered Ginny under her breath.

"It must be admitted that all of the gentlemen will be dressed in nether garments known as pantaloons," said Lucenta. "But such is the way of the world."

"Uh-huh." I'll just bet it is. She scowled.

"Oh no, my dear, frowning is most unattractive," chided Lucenta. "Now it's time to fix your lovely, lovely hair. Just think of that."

A hand—or something, thought Ginny; it was always impossible to tell with these Inanims—pushed her down into a small gold-colored chair that had silently appeared.

Finger-like things started fussing round her face. Ginny tried to watch whatever was happening, but the mirror itself had coyly swung aside so that its reflective surface couldn't be seen. She finally sat back with a sigh and let the Inanim do her work, feeling as if a swarm of butterflies were making a nest on top of her head.

"Not too much in the way of cosmetics," said Lucenta. "Just a bit of rouge, I think." A furry, peach-colored rabbit's foot flew out of nowhere and attacked Ginny's cheeks. "Well, that's what they used at the time, you know," the mirror added. "Authenticity is a must!" Salve spread itself on her lips. "And soon you'll see your lovely, lovely ball gown. That'll put a smile on your face."

"Please tell me it isn't pink," said Ginny.

"No, indeed," said the mirror with a smile. "And no ruffles, either."

Ginny held her breath. Something rather filmy was beginning to drift towards her. At least it isn't pink…I don't think…

The thing detached itself from its hanger and took shape. It had become a thin, nearly sleeveless muslin gown with a very low, square neckline. Hesitantly, she reached out a hand to touch the pale violet blue folds of the skirt. It raised over her head and slipped downwards.

"Can't I see how I look in it?" she asked.

"Not quite yet, dear," answered the mirror. "We're far from finished, you see. I think we'd best move on to shoes."

I guess there'd be no point, thought Ginny. It wasn't as if the violet blue wisp of fabric could actually be the dress. Nothing that flimsy could ever have been meant to be worn as a gown in any era in history. It had to be some sort of undershift, she decided. It's too bad in a way. It's my favorite color. But I couldn't go out in that! Well, maybe a bit of it will show under the real gown.

"Could I at least get some high heels out of all this?" muttered Ginny.

"Oh, no. Those wouldn't be historically accurate in the least," said Lucenta. Ginny felt light, flat, low-cut slippers appear on her feet, fastened by lace twined round her ankle. She sighed.

"Diamonds?" she asked hopefully. "I mean, it's not that I care about jewelry, really, but it would be kind of fun…"

"No," said the mirror reprovingly. "Very little jewelry was worn during the Regency period. Oh, don't look so downcast, dear." I suppose that we could manage something. Now, let me see… oh! We're running out of time! I've been dilly-dallying far too much."

Everything seemed to happen at a frantic rate then, and Ginny felt herself being buffeted from all sides. She hardly had time to take another breath before she saw the mirror begin swinging outwards again.

"Here you are, dear," said Lucenta in a very satisfied voice, "and if I do say so myself, you'd do any Inanim's handiwork proud at that Ball."

Ginny blinked as she saw herself. The thin muslin of the violet blue dress clung to her every curve about as snugly as if it had been painted onto her. A gold ribbon twined beneath her breasts, outlining them sharply, and the flimsy material of the skirt falling away under the high waist clearly revealed every curve of her hips and legs. In fact, speaking of things being revealed…

Ginny peered down. She didn't have to look far at all. The corset certainly was pushing the girls up dangerously high.

"What do you think? Isn't it just lovely?" asked Lucenta.

"Um… yes. It's beautiful lingerie. Where's the dress?" asked Ginny.

"Ginny, dear, that is your ball gown," said Lucenta.

Her mouth fell open. "You're joking. Right? You've got to be joking."

"Not at all, dear. That sort of gown is entirely historically accurate. Madame Recamier wore something very similar in Kensington Gardens during her visit from France, and she created quite a stir, if I recall correctly—"

"But I can't go out in this thing!" wailed Ginny.

"My dear, it's the dress that's been chosen for you, and there's nothing that either you or I can do about it. We've no choice in the matter." The mirror's voice held a dreadful finality.

"No! No. This cannot be happening. If I knew you were planning to do anything like this to me, I never would've- " Ginny thought that she heard the mirror give a rather theatrical sniff after that last comment. "Oh, Lucenta, don't start crying. I don't want you to think I don't appreciate your help or anything, but it's just so…" She gestured helplessly at her chest. "Look! Look at this thing. If I sneeze just once, everything's going to pop out! And the whole pureblood wizarding world is there, and I've got to make the right impression- I mean, what's everybody going to think?"

The mirror smiled knowingly. Once again, Ginny numbly wondered how on earth such a thing was even possible. She stared at herself. She could already feel a blush beginning. Where did it tend to start, exactly, she wondered—on her neck? Or her chest? That had better not be it, she thought rather grimly. I'd never hear the end of it from Malfoy then. Of course, I won't anyway, as soon as he sees this dress! No. We can't even look at each other, can we? Oh, Draco…

"You look so very lovely, my dear," said Lucenta. "It's growing very late, but why don't you take a moment and look? Really look."

Hesitantly, Ginny reached up to touch her hair. It had been parted in the middle and tousled all over, then held back with a band sewn in pearls so that red-gold ringlets framed her face and spilled down one side all the way to her shoulder. A lustrous strand of small pearls had been wound round her neck, a larger pendant pearl hanging just at the dip of her collarbone. She was wearing long, white leather gloves that reached halfway up to her shoulders. Two golden rings set with sapphires and pearls had been slipped onto her index fingers, over the gloves.

"Don't forget your reticule, dear," said Lucenta. Ginny held her hand out for a small violet-blue drawstring bag that looked like a miniature purse, still staring at herself in the mirror.

"And your fan," added the mirror. "That's quite indispensable."

"I'm going to freeze to death in this dress," said Ginny, shaking herself. "Why on earth would I need a fan?"

"Oh, my dear, it has any number of uses. You might peep through your fan, over it, or to the side for maximum effect. Different social situations require different gestures. With fan in hand, a lady is well on her way to cutting a figure in society. She might give a lingering look that is long enough to invite but not embolden. Or she might discourage and refuse without being the least bit rude—"

"Just give it to me!" Ginny snatched the painted silk violent fan with a sinking feeling. Lucenta must be talking about Rules 2,999,987.3 through 3,485,738.8, her mind helpfully informed her.

"Now you're quite prepared," said the mirror.

"No, I'm not. It's December. I really am going to freeze to death." Ginny scowled.

Lucenta sighed. "It was considered the height of fashion for a young lady to stand shivering in her thin muslin gown with only the lightest wrap during the Regency, you know—"

"Well, we're not in the Regency! We're in the middle of some stupid game that purebloods like to play, and I'm not freezing to death. I want a coat."

"I suppose you've got a point," said Lucenta. "We've got every reason in the world to keep you healthy, after all. Your well-being is our top priority, Ginny. Nothing means more than protecting you."

"Who are 'we'?" Ginny asked suspiciously.

"Why, the Malfoy Inanims, of course. We follow the wishes of the heir. And so…" Lucenta allowed her words to trail off discreetly.

Ginny stood very still, that collection of thoughts percolating somewhere in her head.

"Perhaps a Kashmir shawl might be in order," said Lucenta. Ginny felt a large, light, warm shawl dropped over her head. It, too, was a dark, rich shade of violet-blue.

"Come now, dear," the mirror said gently, when Ginny still had not moved.

"What do you mean?" she asked, strangely reluctant to turn away. "What happens now?"

Hands gently guided her to her feet. "Your time here is done," Lucenta said softly, turning her round.

The luxurious bathroom had disappeared completely, leaving only the door. Ginny reached out to the doorknob and felt it dissolve into mist in her hand. "It's the portal," she said. There was no answer; she didn't really expect one. She knew without turning round that Lucenta had disappeared as well. She was standing between the worlds, and the very ground was vanishing beneath her feet.

I should be afraid, she thought briefly. I don't have any idea what to do. And Draco and I—oh, fuck it, I'm not going to call him Malfoy anymore, it's not as if he can hear what I'm saying inside my head!—we won't even be able to look at each other, all night long. Not until we present the sketches, and that's when we've got to act as if we hate each other. I'll have to watch him with Astoria, and he'll have to watch me with Blaise, and we won't be able to even say one single word to each other. And I don't know what we'd say, anyway. We won't be able to touch each other's fingertips. We won't be able to smile. I should be absolutely miserable.

But somehow, she couldn't be. She didn't know why. But something very small seemed to flutter in her chest, beating with excitement, driving her towards whatever would happen during this long, mysterious night at the Pureblood Ball.

Whatever it was, it lay on the other side of the door. And so did Draco.

Ginny took a deep breath, and she stepped through.