Chapter 14
(Earlier that day)
"Your robes, miss." Said a high squeaky voice behind Willow.
She turned around. The little house elf had appeared again, this time holding a large white box with a piece of folded black cloth. The elf set the box on the counter and held up the dress for Willow to see. The dress was strapless and made of sleek black satin. The shape was simple and narrow. The elf handed it to her and motioned for Willow to follow her. "This way."
They exited to lavish bathroom and entered a high ceiling corridor with many large doors leading to other rooms. Her shoes made clicking sounds as she walked over the marble floors. The walls were covered with ancient photographs of people who, to her surprise, were moving. As she followed Tinky further down the hall, they sneered at her and muttered. Finally, Tinky stopped in front of a small bookcase. The elf picked up a rather ugly teapot on the second shelf. She opened the lid and muttered something into it. Willow's eyebrows raised as a patch of marble floor behind them vanished and revealed a spiral stair case going down. She gazed at the teapot again, dumbstruck. The elf hurried her along down the staircase to a poorly light cellar full of packing boxes.
"You're going to stay here for a few nights. You can change into the dress and when you're done ask Charles for Tinky the house elf." Tinky said.
"Who's-" Willow began.
"Charles is that portrait on your left." Tinky pointed to a painting of a short man with a goatee leaning on a box."
"How do you do, miss?" The man in the portrait said, puffed up his chest and bowed politely. He talked in a heavy English accent, not like Narcissa's light and sophisticated accent. His striped vest, half spectacles, and black waistcoat reminded Willow of the
"Uh um, I'm fine thank you, Mr." Willow said, still a little startled by the fact that she was talking to a painting.
"Patrick, but please, call me Charles."
Tinky left and the opening in the floor closed up after her.
Willow looked around at the cold, bare cellar.
"So, Are you a dinner guest or a prisoner miss-?" Gilbert said, adjusting his spectacles.
"Oh, Willow. And. I guess I fit into the prisoner category."
"That's and interesting name, is it your real one?"
"Yes-well, no. I suppose my real name is Divus."
"You suppose?"
"That's the name that my real mother, Glory gave me, but I was raised as Willow."
"Glory? Glorificus? She's your mother? Then you're a-"
"Goddess, yes I know." Willow shifted her weight uncomfortable and, wanting to drop the subject of her birth mother, asked "So, Charles. Why aren't you in the house like the other paintings?"
"Oh, well I guess you could say that I wasn't the dearest friend of the Mistress'."
"Why not?"
"Well." Charles sighed and took off his glasses and rubbed them on his vest like Willow had seen Giles do so many times.
"Must be an English guy thing." She thought.
Charles continued. "When I was alive I was one of the few good wizards in the Malfoy family. But I kept this a secret. Later, I joined the Order of the Phoenix and was sent to spy on the Malfoy family. After her husband Lucius was captured by the ministry and sent to prison. He was sentenced to death, and shortly after I was found out and murdered. The Mistress would probably burned up my portrait if her son didn't hide me in here."
"Draco saved your painting?"
"Yes, and I am very grateful to him, however ill behaved he was as a child. Do you know him?"
"Yes, a little but what do you mean however ill behaved he was?."
"Oh, when he was a boy he, pardon my language miss, but he was a bloody menace. Always torturing his toys, teasing the elves and setting the cat on fire."
"He set the cat on fire?!" She asked in shock.
"Oh yes, many times. Poor chap. He tried to run away a few times but the house elves always caught him."
"O my."
"Yes, just like his father that one. But I did see quite an improvement shortly before his father's death. I think perhaps he had begun to see the error of his father's ways, shall we say. Miss, I hope you don't mind me asking but what's that you're holding?"
"Oh this?" She said, holding up the dress. "It's the dress I have to wear for dinner, apparently they take a lot of pride in their hostages in this place."
"Well you better get a move on, the Mistress is not a very patient woman."
Willow looked around the space for somewhere she could change without Charles seeing her but found none. "Er, Charles, I know this sounds silly but could I turn your painting around?"
"Oh yes of course. Go right ahead."
She hoisted the large framed painting up and turned it around the other way. She took off her heavy black robes and changed into the small silky dress. Feeling slightly uncomfortable, because the dress was so tight that she couldn't walk very well she hopped around the room looking for a mirror. She found a huge full length mirror leaning on a shelf of dusty antiques. She looked at her reflection.
* * * * * Buffy and Spike walked together in silence through the graveyard. They were in the middle of a glaring contest when a vampire emerged from a newly packed grave and came at Buffy. Buffy tried to fight him off as Spike just stood there whistling and pretending not to notice.
"Spike get over here and help me!" Buffy shouted angrily at him, just barely blocking a punch to the face.
"O no," He said sarcastically. "I wouldn't want to DISTRACT you, Buffy."
Buffy scuffed loudly. She pinned the vampire on the ground, pulled out her stake and stuck it hard into his chest. His remains, a cloud of dust, ascended into the air.
"What's the matter Spike? Afraid to kill one of your own?" Buffy sneered.
"Alright, enough!" Spike said angrily. "This is getting us nowhere. If we're going to have to work together then we're going to have to at least be able to stand each other's company."
"Oh, self righteous Spike. But if I remember correctly, YOU'RE the one who owes an apology." "Me?! For what?!"
"For-" Buffy cut her sentence short. She found herself desperately trying to remember what she was mad at him for. But no, she wouldn't let him win like that. "For, I, uh, for, for being- for being an asshole!" She shouted.
"For being an asshole? God how much lamer can I get?" She thought.
Spike looked like he was going to shout something back at first but then paused for a moment. He smiled devilishly. "You don't remember what we were fighting about, do you?"
"Of course I do." She replied nastily.
"Oh no you don't. You have no idea. But you don't want me to know that. You're pretending that you do so I won't win."
"What the hell are you talking about?"
The smile on his face widened. "Yep, you're a stubborn one. I know you Buffy, and you can't lie to save your ass."
"You're wrong. Of course I know what we're fighting about, why do you think I've been so pissed off at you?"
He sighed impatiently. "Because, Buffy, you love to hate me. I learned that a looooong time ago. So, if you really know what you're talking about, prove it."
"I don't need to prove anything to you."
"Fine, then I know I'm right."
"You just go on thinking that then."
"Fine."
"Fine."
They waited for a few minutes in silence, backs turned to each other. Finally, Buffy turned around.
"You know what, this is ridiculous. Fine. You're right, Spike, I forgot what we're fighting about. You win. What do you want, a prize?"
"You admitting you were wrong is the prize."
"Ugh, Spike, you're such a jerk."
"And you're a stubborn bitch."
They stood there awkwardly for a while.
"So you want to back to your place and have sex?" Spike asked casually.
"Yeah."
* * * * * "Miss Willow, can you turn me around now?"
"No, I look horrible."
"I'm sure you look lovely now can you please turn me around?"
"Oh, alright." She returned Charles to his original position.
"Miss Willow, you look absolutely stunning."
Willow blushed but frowned. "No I don't I look like a corpse in this black dress, and I can't walk."
"Well, you do look a bit pale."
"See!" She sulked.
"Oh you look fine, miss. But I'm sorry to say you really should go. Shall I fetch Tinky the house elf for you?"
"If you must."
"Well, I'll be right back then." Charles disappeared from the picture and in a matter of minutes he was back and Tinky was coming down the spiral staircase.
"Come with me then." She said.
"Goodbye Charles."
"Goodbye!" He said cheerily. "Make sure and come back and visit me if you can."
She followed Tinky up the staircase and down the hall.
"Where are we going now?" She asked the house elf.
"To Mistress Malfoy's chambers."
"For what?"
"Her approval."
They stopped in front of two large white doors with brass handles. Tinky knocked and a voice from inside shouted "Come in!"
They entered. Narcissa Malfoy's bedroom was enormous. It was a royal blue Victorian style bedroom with white accents and a king size bed on a platform in the very center. The bed had blue and white silk sheets and tons of pillows. The floor was covered with rose petals. Narcissa was laying on a gold lounging chair with white cushions, wearing a lavender silk robe. She didn't look up, but just waved them in with her hand.
"Come here." She ordered, getting to her feet. She examined Willow. Motioning her to turn and pose. "No, this won't do. The coloring is wrong, you are far to pale for black and your hair emphasizes it. We must have you looking your best if we are to present you."
"Present me to who?" Willow asked.
"To WHOM, girl." She corrected. "And don't speak unless you spoken to personally or given permission, understand?"
She nodded hesitantly.
"Well, looks like we're going to have to go shopping." She said cheerily.
* * * * *
Come back soon for chapter 15 to find out if blondes really DO have more fun and much more when Narcissa and Willow go on a shopping spree in Diagon Alley, Draco comes face to face with the person he least expected to see, and the scoobies plan how to rescue Willow!
(Earlier that day)
"Your robes, miss." Said a high squeaky voice behind Willow.
She turned around. The little house elf had appeared again, this time holding a large white box with a piece of folded black cloth. The elf set the box on the counter and held up the dress for Willow to see. The dress was strapless and made of sleek black satin. The shape was simple and narrow. The elf handed it to her and motioned for Willow to follow her. "This way."
They exited to lavish bathroom and entered a high ceiling corridor with many large doors leading to other rooms. Her shoes made clicking sounds as she walked over the marble floors. The walls were covered with ancient photographs of people who, to her surprise, were moving. As she followed Tinky further down the hall, they sneered at her and muttered. Finally, Tinky stopped in front of a small bookcase. The elf picked up a rather ugly teapot on the second shelf. She opened the lid and muttered something into it. Willow's eyebrows raised as a patch of marble floor behind them vanished and revealed a spiral stair case going down. She gazed at the teapot again, dumbstruck. The elf hurried her along down the staircase to a poorly light cellar full of packing boxes.
"You're going to stay here for a few nights. You can change into the dress and when you're done ask Charles for Tinky the house elf." Tinky said.
"Who's-" Willow began.
"Charles is that portrait on your left." Tinky pointed to a painting of a short man with a goatee leaning on a box."
"How do you do, miss?" The man in the portrait said, puffed up his chest and bowed politely. He talked in a heavy English accent, not like Narcissa's light and sophisticated accent. His striped vest, half spectacles, and black waistcoat reminded Willow of the
"Uh um, I'm fine thank you, Mr." Willow said, still a little startled by the fact that she was talking to a painting.
"Patrick, but please, call me Charles."
Tinky left and the opening in the floor closed up after her.
Willow looked around at the cold, bare cellar.
"So, Are you a dinner guest or a prisoner miss-?" Gilbert said, adjusting his spectacles.
"Oh, Willow. And. I guess I fit into the prisoner category."
"That's and interesting name, is it your real one?"
"Yes-well, no. I suppose my real name is Divus."
"You suppose?"
"That's the name that my real mother, Glory gave me, but I was raised as Willow."
"Glory? Glorificus? She's your mother? Then you're a-"
"Goddess, yes I know." Willow shifted her weight uncomfortable and, wanting to drop the subject of her birth mother, asked "So, Charles. Why aren't you in the house like the other paintings?"
"Oh, well I guess you could say that I wasn't the dearest friend of the Mistress'."
"Why not?"
"Well." Charles sighed and took off his glasses and rubbed them on his vest like Willow had seen Giles do so many times.
"Must be an English guy thing." She thought.
Charles continued. "When I was alive I was one of the few good wizards in the Malfoy family. But I kept this a secret. Later, I joined the Order of the Phoenix and was sent to spy on the Malfoy family. After her husband Lucius was captured by the ministry and sent to prison. He was sentenced to death, and shortly after I was found out and murdered. The Mistress would probably burned up my portrait if her son didn't hide me in here."
"Draco saved your painting?"
"Yes, and I am very grateful to him, however ill behaved he was as a child. Do you know him?"
"Yes, a little but what do you mean however ill behaved he was?."
"Oh, when he was a boy he, pardon my language miss, but he was a bloody menace. Always torturing his toys, teasing the elves and setting the cat on fire."
"He set the cat on fire?!" She asked in shock.
"Oh yes, many times. Poor chap. He tried to run away a few times but the house elves always caught him."
"O my."
"Yes, just like his father that one. But I did see quite an improvement shortly before his father's death. I think perhaps he had begun to see the error of his father's ways, shall we say. Miss, I hope you don't mind me asking but what's that you're holding?"
"Oh this?" She said, holding up the dress. "It's the dress I have to wear for dinner, apparently they take a lot of pride in their hostages in this place."
"Well you better get a move on, the Mistress is not a very patient woman."
Willow looked around the space for somewhere she could change without Charles seeing her but found none. "Er, Charles, I know this sounds silly but could I turn your painting around?"
"Oh yes of course. Go right ahead."
She hoisted the large framed painting up and turned it around the other way. She took off her heavy black robes and changed into the small silky dress. Feeling slightly uncomfortable, because the dress was so tight that she couldn't walk very well she hopped around the room looking for a mirror. She found a huge full length mirror leaning on a shelf of dusty antiques. She looked at her reflection.
* * * * * Buffy and Spike walked together in silence through the graveyard. They were in the middle of a glaring contest when a vampire emerged from a newly packed grave and came at Buffy. Buffy tried to fight him off as Spike just stood there whistling and pretending not to notice.
"Spike get over here and help me!" Buffy shouted angrily at him, just barely blocking a punch to the face.
"O no," He said sarcastically. "I wouldn't want to DISTRACT you, Buffy."
Buffy scuffed loudly. She pinned the vampire on the ground, pulled out her stake and stuck it hard into his chest. His remains, a cloud of dust, ascended into the air.
"What's the matter Spike? Afraid to kill one of your own?" Buffy sneered.
"Alright, enough!" Spike said angrily. "This is getting us nowhere. If we're going to have to work together then we're going to have to at least be able to stand each other's company."
"Oh, self righteous Spike. But if I remember correctly, YOU'RE the one who owes an apology." "Me?! For what?!"
"For-" Buffy cut her sentence short. She found herself desperately trying to remember what she was mad at him for. But no, she wouldn't let him win like that. "For, I, uh, for, for being- for being an asshole!" She shouted.
"For being an asshole? God how much lamer can I get?" She thought.
Spike looked like he was going to shout something back at first but then paused for a moment. He smiled devilishly. "You don't remember what we were fighting about, do you?"
"Of course I do." She replied nastily.
"Oh no you don't. You have no idea. But you don't want me to know that. You're pretending that you do so I won't win."
"What the hell are you talking about?"
The smile on his face widened. "Yep, you're a stubborn one. I know you Buffy, and you can't lie to save your ass."
"You're wrong. Of course I know what we're fighting about, why do you think I've been so pissed off at you?"
He sighed impatiently. "Because, Buffy, you love to hate me. I learned that a looooong time ago. So, if you really know what you're talking about, prove it."
"I don't need to prove anything to you."
"Fine, then I know I'm right."
"You just go on thinking that then."
"Fine."
"Fine."
They waited for a few minutes in silence, backs turned to each other. Finally, Buffy turned around.
"You know what, this is ridiculous. Fine. You're right, Spike, I forgot what we're fighting about. You win. What do you want, a prize?"
"You admitting you were wrong is the prize."
"Ugh, Spike, you're such a jerk."
"And you're a stubborn bitch."
They stood there awkwardly for a while.
"So you want to back to your place and have sex?" Spike asked casually.
"Yeah."
* * * * * "Miss Willow, can you turn me around now?"
"No, I look horrible."
"I'm sure you look lovely now can you please turn me around?"
"Oh, alright." She returned Charles to his original position.
"Miss Willow, you look absolutely stunning."
Willow blushed but frowned. "No I don't I look like a corpse in this black dress, and I can't walk."
"Well, you do look a bit pale."
"See!" She sulked.
"Oh you look fine, miss. But I'm sorry to say you really should go. Shall I fetch Tinky the house elf for you?"
"If you must."
"Well, I'll be right back then." Charles disappeared from the picture and in a matter of minutes he was back and Tinky was coming down the spiral staircase.
"Come with me then." She said.
"Goodbye Charles."
"Goodbye!" He said cheerily. "Make sure and come back and visit me if you can."
She followed Tinky up the staircase and down the hall.
"Where are we going now?" She asked the house elf.
"To Mistress Malfoy's chambers."
"For what?"
"Her approval."
They stopped in front of two large white doors with brass handles. Tinky knocked and a voice from inside shouted "Come in!"
They entered. Narcissa Malfoy's bedroom was enormous. It was a royal blue Victorian style bedroom with white accents and a king size bed on a platform in the very center. The bed had blue and white silk sheets and tons of pillows. The floor was covered with rose petals. Narcissa was laying on a gold lounging chair with white cushions, wearing a lavender silk robe. She didn't look up, but just waved them in with her hand.
"Come here." She ordered, getting to her feet. She examined Willow. Motioning her to turn and pose. "No, this won't do. The coloring is wrong, you are far to pale for black and your hair emphasizes it. We must have you looking your best if we are to present you."
"Present me to who?" Willow asked.
"To WHOM, girl." She corrected. "And don't speak unless you spoken to personally or given permission, understand?"
She nodded hesitantly.
"Well, looks like we're going to have to go shopping." She said cheerily.
* * * * *
Come back soon for chapter 15 to find out if blondes really DO have more fun and much more when Narcissa and Willow go on a shopping spree in Diagon Alley, Draco comes face to face with the person he least expected to see, and the scoobies plan how to rescue Willow!
