A/N: Sorry it's taken me so long to reply - I've actually been *hides guiltily* working on another fic. I know! I'm sorry! I was just reading a lot of LWD Dasey fanfics and wanted to try my hand at writing one (Repaid, if you want to go check it out *cough cough*). As I said in the opening A/N for that piece: I'm hoping writing something else for a while will give me some idea for how to continue this story.
Chapter 27: All Dressed Down and Somewhere to Go
Blaise had decided it was time for a party.
Well, another party.
Really, if he could, he'd be partying every weekend, but that unfortunate 'school' thing made it rare for him to manage two a month, more often hitting about every three or four weeks. This weekend it was to be a classic in the rotation: ABC. Anything but clothes. There were two a year, falling once in the autumn and once in the spring, and Blaise took the dress code very seriously. Anyone who tried to enter wearing robes or typical clothing (with an exception for accessories) was barred entry for the whole night – even if they tried to change their outfit. As it stood, the event was infamously exclusive and had been the starting point for several rumors among the social elite of the school (the only ones who felt burned enough by messing their own chance that they would speculate what had happened in their absence).
Ginny was excited. But also terrified.
"But- but-" She tried to squeak a protest as Nat waved her wand over the canvas flour bag she'd been carefully transforming into a skirt, "There's no- um – support!"
Her 'outfit' (if one could call it that) had been the brunette's idea, one which Ginny was quickly regretting. After a thorough perusal of the rules, Nat had had the genius concept of "let's-get-Ginny-laid-by-dressing-her-in-something-innocent-but-also-open-to-double-entendre." Which was why Ginny stood in a surprisingly modest (loopholing the rules) apron, that gave her little cover on the sides but had a sweet little ruffled skirt that almost completely closed in the back. Nat's flour-bag skirt was simply a precaution.
"I told you," the brunette assured her friend with a wicked grin, "I've got the spells to keep that sucker from moving."
"This is a horrible idea," Ginny argued, as Nat shimmied the makeshift skirt up past her calves.
"But you're so sweet!" Vina smiled, looking to the cupcake print on the apron.
"Yeah, but everyone's gonna want a taste of her-"
"Oh my god, Julie, stop." Ginny was red, and had covered her face with her hands. "I can't go to this."
Julie, who had shot her comment off while in the midst of a change between quidditch and dinner, was smirking cockily, but raised her hands in resignation.
But Nat wouldn't hear of it. "No. You are doing this Ginny. You got us invited to the Twelve Ragers-"
"-well, technically that's not-"
"You're going. End of story."
The Twelve Ragers of Christmas – a stupid name for a stupid festival – was the infamous twelve-day holiday extravaganza with parties across the UK. There was an open invite to the festivities, but the locations were so secret that you only got in if you had a connection. Ginny – Nat had assumed, ardently and vocally – would be their connection. Ginny wasn't so sure she'd get the invite herself (and truly wasn't sure she'd be up for such a grueling hedonistic romp), but Natalie was a force to be reckoned with. Especially when it came to exclusive parties that she would otherwise stand no chance of attending.
The redhead was not a fan of the pressure her friends were putting on her, but she knew they'd back down if they were truly worried for her. If Ginny pushed hard enough, they'd relent. But she wasn't sure she wanted to push that hard. Truth be told… she was pretty excited. Her pulse had been fluttering since she'd got the invite, unable to stop thinking of all the pure unadulterated snogging she was sure to enjoy. Yes, she had her worries; since she and Zabini weren't actually going out, he wasn't bound by any obligation to spend his hosting time fulfilling her nonexistent naughty-baker fantasies, so she could end up in another Malfoy-at-Halloween situation. Then again, she wasn't too worried about Malfoy lately, after their gentleman/woman's agreement.
With the assurance that her apron would not budge a centimeter without the right countercharms (provided she didn't try anything too taxing), and the addition of some opaque body paint (or rather, flour, painted in imitation of a strapless top) to give her at least a little false modesty, Ginny felt secure enough to give the costume the ok.
She didn't know what she'd be facing once she got there, but she hoped it would be less irritating that her dorm room full of girls who thought it was fun to come up with as many baked-good-themed euphemisms for female anatomy as was humanly possible.
"Shit," Ginny frowned as she realized, "I forgot to find someone to travel with."
Julie, about to leave now that the fun was all over, paused at the stairs. "I can ask around at dinner, if you want," she offered, casually, "See if anyone will meet you out front to head over. I'm sure there'll be at least one person gloating about it."
Ginny nodded, but bit her lip. "Can you – er, well – just try to keep it quiet from my brother, okay? Or really anyone who's friends with him. Probably best stick with our year."
"Beggars can't be choosers, Gin," Julie warned, but accepted the terms as she left.
When her last minute traveling companion exited the front doors (clad, as Ginny was, in the most conservative robes available, showing no hint of what might lay beneath), she instantly froze. A small part of her mind went into panic mode, regretting allowing Julie to find someone, regretting her costume, regretting accepting the invitation…
It took a great amount of self control to shut down that part of herself that had begun ringing alarm bells.
We've settled this. It's fine. I'm fine. Nothing happened.
Hurriedly, denial took over, muting any worries she had and covering everything in a blissfully ignorant sheen. "Hey, Stephen." She managed a weak smile, that became stronger as she assured herself of her own capability.
Stephen Cornfoot, still as classically attractive as ever, shared a similarly tentative smile. "Hey."
As they made small talk, Ginny pointedly did not think of their last conversation.
A/N: So, as you may have guessed, next chapter will explain the very confusing and eerie situation between Stephen and Ginny. I will go ahead and give a trigger warning, although it isn't as graphic as one might expect. Any guesses? Please review! Also, just if you have anything to say at all please review. What can I say, I like getting reviews. It was a slew of reviews that reminded me to update.
