Disclaimer: Anything you recognize is not mine. Don't sue.
Summary: AU Ginny has crossed over and taken Hollywood by storm. Only she's not Ginny Weasley. She's Iris Nouvelle. Draco becomes a cloistered, eccentric director when working on a film but wins awards doing it. Only he's not Draco Malfoy. He's Dylan Norton. When they are thrown together as the dream team that would make movie history in Firetree Studios' next creation, they find that they stand to gain a lot more than millions in their bank books.
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Couture, Clanks and Crossing Over
Chapter 3:
Kismet
"Me." said Dylan Norton, grinning like a maniac. "Found your sense of direction yet?
Ginny was completely speechless. What kind of sick, twisted dream was this? If she slapped herself hard enough, would it disappear from before her eyes? Because she was willing to do it just to avoid that bastardly smirk of his from getting imprinted in her mind. And to think, this man got rave reviews at Sundance, Cannes and pretty much any other film festival she could think of. 'How could this man be a critically-acclaimed director?' Ginny thought. And then it happened. It hit her. 'OH MY HOLY LORD! He's a director! He's OUR director! I'm going to be working with him for heaven knows how long!'
"I'm going to take that as a no, then. Which doesn't surprise me, really." said the Englishman. This was going to be hell.
Ginny's eyes narrowed, finally snapping out of her shock. "What doesn't surprise me is that you still haven't shaped up. You're still as crude and as pitiful a man as the day before," retorted Ginny, venom lacing her sweet smile.
"Woah there," replied Lawrence, putting a hand on each of their shoulders. "Do you two know each other? Is there some bad blood between you or something? Because that would be really not good."
Ginny and Dylan seemed to have completely locked gazes and not in a good way. However, Ginny replied, "No, I don't know him. And he doesn't know me. Not at all."
Dylan begged to differ, though. He interjected, still not breaking eye contact, "On the contrary, I think we know each other. You're the lady from Nobu, right? The one who threw herself at me?"
"Excuse me?" said Ginny. This man really needed to be taught a lesson in manners. She'd do it gladly. She was an expert back at Hogwarts with that Malfoy boy, she could do it again now.
"Yes, I believe you said that same thing that day," He replied. Ginny always thought her country's former accent to be pleasant but on him, she just found it snotty. Although, his seemed to be fading already.
"I did not throw myself at you. If there was any throwing of their persons at another, it would have been you. You are the one who tried to feel me up," spat Ginny, still not breaking from their ocular warfare.
"I caught you when you were about to fall!"
"And were an ass about it!"
"Okay, settle down. Settle down," interrupted Lawrence. He could not have the star and the mastermind of his movie arguing. He was not happy with this unveiling of events. Clarissa seemed gleeful enough about it, though. She was practically glowing. Not bothering to think why anymore, he said, "Now, just what happened?"
"I was in Nobu a few days ago. Then, the paparazzi came and in my hurry to get out, I accidentally bumped into this gentleman over here," enlightened Ginny, twitching a little as she said it.
"Oi, that's not the whole story, you know," said Dylan. "As I said beforehand, I also saved her when this... graceful woman lost her balance," he said with utmost sarcasm.
"Oh, go ahead. Mention how you insulted me right after your gallant self saved the day," said Ginny, flipping her hand up to give him the go ahead.
"Hey, you gave as good as you got, love."
"Are you two seriously fighting about this? You're about to work together on what we hope to be our biggest movie yet and you're brawling over a bad run-in? Can we please kick the maturity level up a notch?" said Lawrence. This only caused their glares to heighten in its silent ferocity. "Think about it, guys. You'll have hardly anyone else in your lives for a good eight months. So, for now, get some drinks, enjoy the party and cool off." Lawrence called over a waiter and he took their orders. With a huff, Ginny finally broke away from their silent, lethal exchange and went in the other direction, leaving Dylan staring silently after her.
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Draco watched as the woman marched off. There was nothing he could do. Something just made him watch her, made him go crazy whenever she was around him. From the moment she stepped into the room or even that first time he'd seen her in Nobu, an intense heat would just begin to build in him. And it just got stronger every time he saw her. She was so excruciatingly beautiful. Unlike anyone he'd ever met before, with her long, silky hair as deeply red as the finest wine. And her body… Oh, her body. It was just the greatest fusion of feminine curves and muscle he'd ever seen. In his arms that day before, he hated to admit to himself that nothing had ever felt better. Iris was now talking to that producer bloke, Ian Haas. He seemed to have told her a joke because she threw her head back, laughing. God, she was amazing when she smiled. And, well, her face was totally faultless, anyway; eyes of an unfeasible blue, a nose so sharp and slim and lips that made him just want to… No, he definitely hadn't met anyone like her before. But then again, he never really paid attention to women from his past, especially when he was in Hogwarts. Sure, he'd screw around with some of them. It was his pastime, after all. But no one had ever been like this woman. Not even Fleur, a half-veela. Well, then, there was that Weasel girl. She was a redhead too, he remembered. But that was a long time ago and she was most likely off in England having Scarhead babies.
"So, Dylan, I've been wanting to talk to you all night," said that Clarissa woman Lawrence had introduced him to, interposing on his thoughts.
For a moment, he kept his gaze on Iris but for fear of being discovered, he tore his eyes away and directed all, well, most of his attention on the woman ahead of him. "You have? Well, isn't that just great," He said. He was trying to be nice, he really was. Kindness to others was never one of his strong points. He could be if he wanted to, though. He snorted. His father must have just scoffed at him in his grave.
Clarissa gave him what seemed to be her best 'take me' smile and stare, nodding unhurriedly. "It is great. Not many people can hold my attention for very long, you know, but I've had my eye on you since we were introduced," said the blue-eyed woman. Iris' eyes were much nicer, though, he noticed. While the redhead's was almond-shaped, this woman's was almost circular and they were so big they almost begged to poked. What the hell was he thinking? Iris? 'Get yourself together, man,' Draco said to himself. He shook himself, eliciting a reaction from Clarissa. "Oh, are you cold?" she said, sliding closer to him till she could feel his breath on her cheek. She leaned over and whispered in his ear. "I could keep you warm tonight."
Draco raised an eyebrow. This girl wasn't bad. She was hot, actually. Quite fit, if he saod so himself. Nevertheless, he wasn't really in the mood tonight. 'Pity,' he thought. So, instead, he said, "Actually, I was just…" he trailed off, however, when he caught sight of Ginny's face. It was contorted into an expression of subtle disgust, since anything more obvious would be frowned upon in the company of the high-class. Suddenly, he felt very ashamed at the situation he had gotten himself into. Still sharing a glance with her, he coughed harshly and said to Clarissa, "Excuse me. I need to go to the Men's Room." He stalked off in the other direction.
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Ginny looked on in repulsion as she watched that Clarissa woman and that horrible man canoodle together off to the side of the room. 'They can have each other for all I care,' thought Ginny. 'She can fall for his act and he'll just end up leaving her after a few sessions in the sack.' Although, Ginny couldn't quite blame her if Clarissa gave in. He was just so amazing-looking that most people would probably fall to tears at the sight of him. Pale blonde hair styled so sexily. She thought she remembered Jude Law sporting the same 'do not so long ago. Oh, and his eyes were something out of this world altogether. They were gray, for God's sake! Who wouldn't just melt at the vision of those things? They were just like that Malfoy boy's back from when she was in Hogwarts. She hated him with every fiber in her being but she had to admit that Draco was positively gorgeous. But that was a long time ago and he was probably off making Pug Parkinson babies while shagging every other woman in England. This Dylan Norton didn't seem much different, though. But his body… Oh, his body. So lean and toned, just the perfect amount of muscle. It was incredible. He was… 'What the hell am I thinking!' said Ginny within her mind. She mentally slapped herself and soon, without realizing, she was doing it physically too.
"Iris… Iris. IRIS!" hollered her longtime friend, Ian Haas. They had met at a work function well into her career and had become instant friends. He snatched her hand away before she could smack herself silly one more time. "What are you doing? Are you okay?"
Ginny was bemused for a moment. "What?" she said. Then his words finally sunk in. "Oh, yeah. I just forgot to do something. Something important and I'm kicking myself, err, slapping myself for it now." she covered.
"Oh. Well, whatever it is, it can't be that bad. So stop doing yourself physical harm or I might have to tell Lawrence we need a new, saner leading lady," joked Ian, smiling. His lovable quirky looks did him more justice when he smiled.
"You mean he doesn't know I'm psycho yet?" gasped Ginny. A moment later, she sighed. "Well, he'll find out soon enough."
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The party had ended after a few hours worth of sake and socializing. It had gone without much more fuss. Even when she ended up having to speak to that Norton man again, only a few barbs were tossed around. However, today was another day and she would most definitely have to face him once again. It was the Press Conference for 'Veiled' and him being the director, it was inevitable.
It was set to be held at the Four Seasons function room at 3 PM sharp. So, in the morning, Ginny woke up early to do her intense 45-minute workout and did an interview for an English magazine called Lucky. When she first came into the business, it wasn't a widely known fact that she was actually from the UK. Many thought she was French, American, some even claimed her to be Israeli but she had cleared all misconceptions in an interview for the magazine a year ago. And of course, no one knew of her witching heritage. Now that she was fully resided in the Muggle World, she hardly ever used magic anymore. She had, although, mastered the art of wandless magic since it was much less apparent than flipping out her wand when she wanted the remote and was too lazy to get up. The only time she ever really did use magic was when she was alone and that wasn't all that often.
After the interview, Ginny went straight back home to get ready for the interview. She got home at about 11 in the morning, giving her about 3 hours to get ready. Maria and she had chosen a printed Roberto Cavalli jersey dress beforehand for the function. It was gathered at the bust and attached was a cobra brooch with Swarovski crystals. Paired with Giuseppe Zanotti slim closed-toe heels, it made for an elegant, body-skimming look. For that day, Sahara decided to leave her natural curls as they were, except sprucing it up a little with gel.
Ginny was sitting by her white vanity in a bath robe as Raquel did her makeup. Sitting on top of her turquoise bed sheets was her dress. Rebecca arrived not a minute later and immediately flew to the garment. "My eyes! Oh, my eyes! I've been blinded by the beauty!"
"You liar! You've never become blinded when you've seen me," said the man sitting cross-legged on one of Ginny's couches. Sahara loved her bedroom. He was always gushing about the size and its design. It really was immense, leaving more than enough room for Ginny's whole style team. The room was done in darling shades of blue and turquoise. Teal candles rested on the sidetables that guarded each side of the bed as tulle cloth hung down from the ceiling to drape over her bed in soft waves. Then to the side of her room was a large bay window with throw pillows atop its seat. Also, laid out was a set of furniture on the other side of the room. She was thinking about having a baby grand piano put in it as well since she liked to tinker around with the instrument every once in a while.
Rebecca rolled her eyes in reply. However, the gay man seemed a little miffed at her action. He stuck his tongue out at her and went back to reading his magazine. Rebecca turned her attention to Ginny, " So… Nervous?"
"Please, Rebecca. We've done this how many times already. Press-Cons are ritual now," said Ginny, with eyes closed as Raquel put some Erno Laszlo eye shadow on her.
"Yes, but this time around you've got a spicy affair with the director of your movie who's without a doubt going to be there," preened Rebecca, bouncing around the free side of the bed.
Sahara bounded from his seat and went to Ginny's side. "I was completely in the dark about this! WHO! SINCE WHEN!" he said, jumping up and down perkily.
Raquel dropped her mascara as well, setting it on the table. "Same here. Do tell, Iris."
Ginny glared at Rebecca from the mirror. "I do not have any relationship with that man whatsoever. Spicy or otherwise."
"You're not getting away with this, Iris," warned Raquel. "Now, spill."
Ginny held her pair of hands up. "I swear. There's nothing to tell except he's a horrible man. He's rude. He's vile. He's-"
"Outrageously hot," interjected Rebecca, standing up from the bed. Sahara and Raquel expressed their interest by squealing and scooting closer to Rebecca like eager little puppies. Rebecca nodded her head and looked off in what Ginny supposed was naughty day dreams that could probably even Jenna Jameson queasy.
"I do not," said Ginny stubbornly, talking to her mirror since her so-called friends had abandoned her for the juicer version of events. She hated that man and would only tolerate him for these preceding eight months. Yes, that was it. Totally. Completely.
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"That is completely shite," spat aforementioned outrageously hot man. "I don't understand why I need to be a part of this. You know I hate anything to do with publicity, Lawrence."
The tall man sighed in reply, putting two fingers to the bridge of his nose in annoyance. "I know, Dylan, but this isn't just any movie. We've put you and Iris together. Two colossal names in Hollywood. This isn't just a movie we're hoping to be a box office hit. We're hoping to make movie history with this thing."
Draco was nonplussed. "And?"
"And we need the director that's gonna make it happen to be there," said Lawrence, gripping onto Draco's shoulder. "Come on, Dylan. For this movie, it's a necessity."
Draco fumed inside. When it came to his movies, he hated having these Press-Cons, TV show appearances or whatever the hell else there was. Because he reckoned that the movie should sell itself. Its success shouldn't depend on how many times he begged the viewers to see it on national television. He didn't quite care if others, like the movie's cast, publicized but for him to do it, it was almost sickening. However, at the look on Lawrence's face, he thought maybe, just maybe he could give in this one time. "None of the small-time shite, though. You'll never get me to go to those," said Draco, wiping a bit of nonexistent dirt off his suit indifferently.
Lawrence grinned widely, putting down his hand. "I knew you'd come around. Now let's get going before we have to walk in late like retards," said Lawrence.
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Ginny had never taken to reading tabloids. She knew that they made up all sorts of lies. At one point, she had broken the record for number of times to go under the knife. She had had her breasts done, her nose, her lips, even her wrists! Or so they claimed.
However, this time around Rebecca shoved the latest edition of a notorious spread in New York and didn't give her much choice but to take a look. Along with Ginny and Rebecca for the limo ride was Angela Parsons, Ginny's publicist. She was a skinny lady from the Bronx who carried her accent and herself with pride. To most, she seemed like a stuck-up… woman who always seemed to have her nose upturned but in reality, she was outrageous and knew how to work a room like nobody's business. Like the one scheduled for that day, she attended all of Ginny's functions and loved the redhead like a little sister.
Angela lifted an eyebrow once Rebecca nearly took Ginny's eye out with the magazine. "Oh, yeah. Rebecca was hounding me about that thing," said the woman. "Just what was going on there, Iris? Are you getting a little action that we don't know about? Because I've told you before. You need to tell me who you're latest is the moment anything happens. I don't care if it was how you fell for the way he squeezed your ass, you have to tell me everything that might implicate you with someone."
"Oh, for the last time, there is nothing going on between Mr. Norton and I." said Ginny, snapping her fingers in vexation.
"Well, everybody thinks different. Take a look at the tab, honey." said Angela, gesturing down at the tabloid that Rebecca had finally let fall on Ginny's lap. Ginny held her breath. She closed her eyes and inclined her head. With one release of air, she opened her right eye first then the other one snapped open as she read on. 'DYLAN NORTON AND IRIS NOUVELLE: HOLLYWOOD'S DREAM COUPLE IN THE MAKING?'
"Oh holy fu--" began Ginny.
"Exactly the kind of language I was going to remind you to avoid today," interrupted Angela.
Ginny looked her straight in the eye. "What are we going to about this?"
Angela raised an eyebrow and said, "To be frank?" Ginny nodded. "I'm not all that worried."
Ginny was flabbergasted, her eyes bulging to the point that she could almost feel them moving out her sockets slowly. "WHAT!"
Angela shrugged. "Iris, we know all you've been linked to plenty before him. Some were true and some weren't. And from what Rebecca tells me you two have something going on, anyway," said Angela to which Ginny aimed her most heated glare at Rebecca. Rebecca just peered out the window to avoid the situation all together. "And if there's one thing I've learned in all my years as a publicist and not just for you, babe, is that when it comes to love links, there is no bad publicity about it. Who doesn't want to see their favorite actresses hooking up with their favorite actors? Excuse me, or directors."
Ginny moved her head from side to side in little motions, hardly believing what she was hearing and trying to comprehend everything Angela was saying. Angela sighed, shifting to the edge of her seat to explain further. "Because they can put themselves in your shoes, hon. If they can imagine themselves as you in a movie, which is the very thing that movie-making is all about, they can definitely imagine themselves as you in your day-to-day life. They want to be you, Iris. You're their idol and seeing you in love would mean they're in love too."
Ginny said nothing and did nothing but shift her gaze from the floor to Angela and back again. Then, Rebecca's voice cutting the momentary silence made Ginny's eyes drift in her direction. "You still haven't realized this, have you?" she said, gazing at Ginny in this half-unbelieving, half-endearing way. "After two years of soaring to success, a track record like no one has ever seen before, you still don't get it," reiterated Rebecca. "You're something, Iris. You have the world in the palm of your hand."
Angela smiled just a little, saying, "She's telling the truth, Ginny. Now, all you need to do is stay the same person you always have been."
"So this thing," Ginny finally spoke up, waving her hand at the tabloid. "…doesn't matter?"
"Well, I'm brilliant so I know how to keep it under control. I always have with the relationship issues. Now, the only thing that ever really fazes me with my clients is when rumors begin of one, drug use or two, a sex scandal," she said as she counted off with her fingers. "But I know that's not a problem with you, you see, since one, you've never been into that sort of thing and two, you're a prude."
Ginny gasped and crossed her arms with irritation. "I am not!" she exclaimed. She wasn't a virgin, after all. She had lost it to her first boyfriend in New York, an extraordinarily handsome sculptor named Rafael, following a year of sweet, abiding commitment, on his and her part. She had had a few relationships since then as well. So she was most definitely not a prude. Definitely. Yep, no doubt about it. Angela and Rebecca glanced at each other and burst out laughing. "What? I am not! I assure you I am not!" was the most prudish thing she could say when trying to claim the exact opposite.
After a while, their laughter subsided, however Ginny's sulking had not. "Aw, Iris. Don't get stressed. We love you the way you are." said Rebecca, trying to soothe Ginny. However, she still wasn't able to keep the slight teasing lilt away from her voice. Ginny, in turn, scoot ever farther from the two ladies.
Angela finally relented. "Alright, maybe you're not a prude. But let's just put it this way… Honey, if I had your body and your face, I'd be making a lot more use of it."
"Amen, sister." Rebecca concurred. "You could get any guy you wanted on the planet, Iris, yet you've limited yourself to what? Around four men in your prime age of twenty four." said Rebecca, hardly believing how it could possibly be even as she said it.
Ginny still did not move from her position, looking out her tinted view to the outside world. "Well, maybe I don't give my body to every hot guy that crosses my path but I'm not stuffy about these things. You guys know this," said she.
Angela and Rebecca shared a look. "Yes, we know. We're just teasing you." Angela said. One moved to play with Ginny's hair beside her as the other put her hand on Ginny's, the car speeding along.
"Yeah, we know you're a raging sex goddess inside." said Rebecca, adjusting her cheek on Ginny's shoulder.
Ginny fought it with all her might. She wanted to keep the charade up a little longer but as she heard Rebecca's words, she was powerless against the smile that threatened to break out. "You better believe it."
The car pulled to a stop. The divider between where the women sat and the driver's seat slowly dropped. Frank called, "We're here, ladies."
"Thanks, Frank." said Ginny. Already they could hear the paparazzi buzz outside the car doors. Seeing as it was a press conference and they were waiting in anticipation by the Four Seasons door rather than inside, she presumed these were the ones not invited to the event that afternoon. Angela waited for Ginny's signal then opened the door delicately. Angela slid herself from her seat and the cameras started going off like crazy. Next went Rebecca. Then, Ginny took a deep breath, preparing herself for the relentless lights and chattering. She stepped off from the car gracefully.
"There she is!"
The questions came in waves but she paid attention to none, since Angela had told her beforehand that she was to keep quiet about everything till she spoke at the press conference. Instead, she gave them an apologetic look and zoomed past, heading straight for the lobby.
Once she was securely inside, Rebecca exclaimed from a few feet away. "Iris, it's this way!" she said as she stalked off with Angela.
Ginny nodded, taking a step before she realized she had something clutched in her hand. She looked down and recognized it was the tabloid with Dylan and her on it. She sighed. She must've latched onto it again in her slight nerves as she got off the car. She fixed her eyes on the magazine, at the headline and Dylan's irrefutably handsome face. The picture was the exact moment that he had slipped his sinewy arms around her. She could recall it almost perfectly. She growled a second later, annoyed at herself for such blasphemous thoughts and where they were leading her. She noticed a garbage bin right beside her and immediately stepped to toss it inside. However, she stopped as she held it above the elegant container. She clenched her hand, creasing the paper a little, gazing at the title, its words and the image they presented one last time before… before she pursed her lips and stalked in the direction of the Cosmopolitan Suite, the magazine clasped safely between her fingers.