IWSC Summer Camp
Weasley Cabin - DrarryMadhatter (Laura)
Summer Camp Round 6
Theme - Critically acclaimed. Write an AU about someone starring as an extra in an advert
Word Count - 1200
Warnings - The odd swear word, but that's it.
Author's Note - In this round we wanted to link our stories by using an action board.
Summary - Draco is a successful model for a prominent agency, having starred in many commercials and posed for many photoshoots for all kinds of products. However, the day goes from bad to worse when he's caught in a downpour, is running late, and has to wear a silly costume while sitting on a brush.
Cut!
Draco dashed hurriedly through the staff entrance of Scope, the main advertising agency in the UK, well aware that he was at least ten minutes late. He mumbled a vague excuse in the direction of one of the security team members and ran into his dressing room, throwing his jacket onto a nearby chair as he went.
He grabbed a soft white hand towel from his bathroom as he passed it and sat heavily on the plush chair in front of his dressing table mirror. The sight of his usually perfect hair, now stringy and lank with the sleet currently battering the streets outside, caused him to huff in frustration. He'd spent nearly forty minutes crafting it into a style of perfection . Quickly but carefully, he began to dry his hair and face, careful not to rub too hard and cause unnecessary redness on his unblemished pale skin. Just as he was almost dry, a sleek mop of brown curls popped round the door frame.
"So you finally made it? I've bought you a few minutes by hiding Jacques cigars — you know how he positively refuses to work without one of the foul things in his gob — but you better hustle. He's not in the best mood and I've no doubt you've just made it that little bit worse."
"You're a star, Pansy. Honestly, I totally owe you."
Draco found himself grinning as she winked at him and vanished from view. He looked at himself and grimacedgrimmanced. His hair was a state and that would never do. He quickly pulled out the hairdryer and some styling wax and got to work.
Five minutes later, which was a bloody record as far as Draco was concerned, he emerged from his dressing room looking as well groomed as ever, if slightly flustered. He quickly made his way over to the shoot set up, and looked around confused. It was supposed to be a photo shoot for a catalogue, so why on God's green earth were there filming cameras and sound equipment set up? He only had a minute to ponder the quandary before one of the interns shuffled towards him and pressed a pile of papers into his hands and mumbled some jumbled explanation about how Jacques wanted to film a commercial rather than do the photo shoot. Something about inspiration striking him in the shower or something. He nodded his understanding at the intern and looked around for the assistant who brought the coffee. If there was ever a day he was going to need coffee, it was today!
Ten minutes later, having downed two cups of questionable coffee and a frenzied skimming of the script, Draco found himself standing in front of an enchanted backdrop with several lights blaring down upon him. Fucking Jacques, thought Draco grumpily. Most normal people wash in the shower, but no not him. He has to get stupid ideas and ruin my fucking life! He took a steadying breath and tried to force some calm into his body. He was a professional. An artist of style and poise. If they needed him to pose in front of a stupid backdrop for an advert, then pose he would. How bad could it be anyway? He thought to himself, as he worked on keeping his breaths deep and even.
It turned out it could be very bad. Very bad indeed. The product being advertised was extra hold hair wax — that was all well and good. Just point a fan at him and watch his hair remain still and Bob's your uncle and Fanny's your aunt! — and some bozo, likely Jacques, had the bright idea of having him pretend to fly on a broomstick in some stupid Merlin-the-wizard costume! Apparently, the target demographic for this hair wax were people living in cuckoo fantasy land! He thought he had hit the all- time low when Jacques had him pose with a ridiculous cockatoo that kept crapping all over his arm and back, but this was something else.
"Oh come off it! There's no way I'm getting on a brush and prancing about in a bloody Merlin costume! The beard alone! I'm not putting that thing on my face!" Draco's cheeks were flushing with his indignation. He may be an old hat at this game, but even he had limits.
"Come on, old boy!" cajoled Jacques, puffing out cigar smoke as he spoke, "you need to wear the beard! It's Merlin! Merlin had a beard!"
"How do you know he had a bloody beard? Best mates, were you?" sniped Draco pettily.
"It's a common fact! He had a beard. We have procured you an adequate beard. You will wear said beard!"
"No. Sorry, but no." Draco folded his ridiculously loose bell sleeves across his star patterned chest and glared his best 'not budging' glare. "I am not wearing that thing. It's cheap and ridiculous and I'm bound to come out in a bloody rash of some kind. I've insured my looks and I'm more than happy to bloody sue if I can't work for the next however long just because you guys forced that thing on me."
The argument was interrupted with the arrival of Pansy, who dashed over to Jacques and whispered something in his ear, pausing every so often to gesture dramatically. After a moment or two, she dashed back to the sidelines, leaving Jacques frowning thoughtfully.
"On second thoughts, lose the beard. We don't want the wind blowing it about too much and having it disrupt the clear shot we're wanting of your hair."
"Thank Christ for that!" sighed Draco in immense relief as one of the items removed the offensive facial hair from his sight.
"Now, I want you to put some oomph into this, Draco! You're flying on a broom. People dream of this so I want exhilaration! Energy! You're flying and it's magic and you love it!"
Draco sighed, knowing that it was a losing battle, and picked up his brush — no his broomstick.
"Well? Where do you want me, boss?"
"On your broomstick at the left- hand side of the backdrop. We'll move it behind you and blast you to make it seem like you're flying across the sky. Brenda! Have you doused him with extra hold? I don't want one hair on that head to move even a millimeter!"
As Brenda dashed over to him and started spraying a noxious cloud of industrial strength hairspray at him, Draco couldn't help but glare at his boss. Of all the stupid ideas and somehow he's to crouch on a bloody brush nee broomstick and try not to pass out from toxic fumes! With a last aggressive thought of how badly he was going to give an earful to his agent, Draco rallied his professionalism and forced himself to mount the wooden pole.
Pansy dashed forwards with the action board, her brown curls bobbing smoothly as she moved.
"Take one! And action!" she called, snapping the board authoritatively, backing away towards an empty stool near Jacques.
Well, Draco mused in defeat as his face was suddenly assaulted with a wind machine and a pile of dried leaves, here goes nothing!