Chapter Two: Work for it
"Quickly, darling, we must hurry," Gisella urged, their footsteps slapping against the pavement.
Beside her, Blaise nodded, tugging on her wrist as he tried to match her pace. She smiled at him, before glancing at her watch. Great, Michael had made her tardy. Why did he have to argue about everything? Could he not support her?
As they approached the address she had been given, the building's violet-painted door standing out amongst the same, tired shop fronts surrounding it, she took a quick moment to fix her hair. She had made sure to wash it and style it—as best she could—like Cordelia and the other women wore their hair. The up-do was tight and pulled at her roots, yet it would allow her to appear presentable. Confident that no strand was out of place, she closed in the distance between herself and the building, and pushed open the door.
A tingling of a bell echoed throughout the room as she entered, her eyes taking a moment to adjust to the vast amounts of purple covering the wide room. At the far end, purple curtains covered the entrance to a smaller room, blocked by a large, lilac table full of different makeup and potion bottles. To the side wall, a large purple sofa was spread out, cushions of various shades of purple scattered on top. A few Flutterby bushes were placed around the room, as were pots of lavender and lilies. Stairs with a deep violet rug running down the center spiralled upwards, and as Gisella trailed her eyes up them, curious to see what would be on the next floor, she was drawn to a large, ornate chandelier hanging from the ceiling, casting shimmering purple light on the room's occupants. In fact, the only thing that was not some shade of purple was the white plush carpet beneath her feet.
A wizard rifling through the bottles on the dresser looked up as she strolled across the room, son in tow, before shrugging and resuming his task. A camera hung around his neck, Gisella stopped in the middle of the room, not sure what to do next. Was she at the right place? Was she later than she had thought, and they were packing up?
Thankfully, a familiar face swept into the room, gasping with delight as he saw her.
"Ah, Gisella, dear, you made it! I trust that you had no trouble finding us?" Gilderoy asked, striding up to her and kissing her on either cheek.
Gisella smiled, opening her mouth to apologise. "Sorry that I'm—"
"And who's this handsome young man with you?" he cut in, smiling widely at Blaise.
Blaise moved further behind her legs, eyes wide as Gilderoy bent down to talk to him. Fishing in his robes pocket, he pulled out a small piece of parchment and gave it to Blaise. "Here you go, little boy. Do you know who that is?" Her son shook his head and clutched her legs as Gilderoy pointed to the black and white sketch. "Yes, that's right, it's me! Here, you take this and go on over to that sofa, and you can colour it in whilst your mummy and I do some work. No, no, no need to thank me, I'll even sign it for you," he finished, winking at Blaise.
Blaise stared up at her, his eyes still wide. Gisella smiled, nudging him to go over to the sofa. "Go on, go have fun." He blinked, looked down at the picture in his hands, and toddled off towards it.
"You can use my quill if you'd like," Gilderoy called out, waving his wand and conjuring a low, purple table in front of the sofa, complete with bottles of ink and a quill. "You'll find the blue matches my eyes perfectly!"
Then, turning to Gisella, he said, "Right, well, we should get started, shouldn't we? C'mon, over we go."
Gisella allowed him to grip her hand and lead her over to the makeup table. Pulling out the chair for her, he pushed her onto it and beckoned the wizard to stand next to him. His hands raked through her hair, humming as she pulled at the bun.
"Carl, I think we'll start with the hair, don't you?" Gilderoy asked, taking out one of the pins she had placed to hold her hair up. Whispering into her ear, he shook his head. "A word of advice, my dear, never go back to whoever did your hair."
It seemed she was always destined to blush, for once again that week, her cheeks grew hot and she was unable to look away from her lap. Unperturbed, Gilderoy placed a finger underneath her chin, tilting her head up.
"Smile! Let Carl see what he has to work with."
Gisella lifted her lips, not sure she could. Behind her, the wizard tutted, prompting her to smile wider.
"Ah, yes, I see what you mean, Gilderoy. She has cheekbones that could cut glass. T'is a shame about the bags under her eyes, but I will try to work my magic," Carl said, pursing his lips.
Gisella shifted uncomfortably under the men's gazes. They were talking about her as though she wasn't there; like she was a doll, or clay to be moulded.
Picking up a humming brush, Carl began to do her hair, ignoring her hiss of pain as the heated bristles of the brush touched her scalp. With each stroke, he pulled back her hair, forcing her head back and causing her to wince. Was it normal for hair dressing to be this painful?
Meanwhile, Gilderoy had conjured another chair for himself and poured a glass of Merlot. Crossing his legs and taking a sip from his goblet, he turned to her and asked, "So, Gisella, how are you finding life?"
She turned to answer, yet Carl yanked her head back to face the mirror. Settling instead for eyeing Gilderoy in the mirror instead, she replied, "Uh, alright, I suppose."
"If you don't mind my asking, are you married, my dear?"
Gisella swallowed, not sure she didn't mind. She became aware that, apart from her son, she was alone with two, strange men in a room. Michael knew where she was, but perhaps it wasn't the best idea to stay.
As if he could read her mind, he laughed. "Only, I'm asking because your last name...Zabini, was it? Yes, well, it is a dead-ringer for the name of someone I've heard is very interested in ghouls and ghosts."
Letting go of the breath she held, she nodded. Carl held her head still, tsking, but she answered anyway. "Oh, oh yes, that would be my husband, Michael. He's very interesting in spirits and all that."
"I see," Gilderoy said, before adding, "Well, now, I simply must pick your brain about him. Tell me, is he close to breaking the secrets of the ghouls of Kentwell Hall? Does he know what appeases them, without using forceful measures to make them leave?"
"Erm, I think he could be. It's the only reason we moved. I'm afraid he and I don't speak much about his work, though."
Actually, they didn't seem to be able to speak at all, lately—not without them fighting constantly. Gisella thought back to earlier that morning, when Michael could not fathom why she wanted to be a model. He hadn't believed that they needed more money, yet only weeks before he had told her to do something about their poor financial situation herself if she was so unhappy with it. To make matters worse, he had stormed off to work, refusing to take Blaise along despite knowing that they could not afford to have someone to look after him. It was why she had been late, and she felt herself praising the Heavens that Gilderoy had not made a fuss about it.
"Fascinating," Gilderoy replied, dragging her from the memory.
Carl huffed, finally releasing her hair. It framed her face in a long, sleek ebony curtain. Little flecks of blue shimmered as the light from the chandelier caught it. Raising a hand to her hair, Gisella felt how smooth it was, the silky strands falling through her fingers like water, before Carl slapped her hand away. She had never seen it look so good, and continued wondering where the frizz had gone, or better still, how much the brush Carl used cost, as the stylist began on her makeup.
She closed her eyes, blinking every now and then as Carl dabbed and prodded at her face with a variety of brushes and puffs.
"Gisella, Gisella, Gisella; I am going to make you a star!" Gilderoy cried.
"Gisella, do you want to be a model or not? Come on, bigger smile!" Giledory said through a tight smile.
Gisella stretched her lips as far up as they would go. They had only been shooting for half an hour, yet already her makeup felt like it was melting under the harsh lighting Carl had put up. Smiling only made it worse, the thick paste cracking with the strain. She didn't know how Gilderoy continued to do so himself, for she was half in his shadow, the wizard's golden hair shining from the full exposure of the lights.
"Much better," Gilderoy said.
The camera flashed again, and lights danced behind her eyes. Her legs began to wobble, the heels making her feel as though she was walking a tight-rope stretched between two ten-story high buildings, scared she would fall with no broom to catch her. When she had walked from the changing room, she had told Gilderoy of her worries, but he had simply laughed and said, "Don't worry about that. You'll be behind me, and I'll hold your hand if necessary."
As it were, Gilderoy was too focused on angling his head, determined to feature his 'best angle' on the book's cover. A few more camera flashes, and he nodded.
"Right, I think we've got it," he said, striding forward to speak with Carl and examine the results.
Gisella let out her breath, the air feeling thinner than ever before. The dress robes she wore were certainly much too tight, particularly at her chest, and it had taken all of her energy not to pass out. She had thought them beautiful when she had first tried them on, the material one she had never had the pleasure of touching, let alone wearing, before. It hugged her chest and complimented her olive skin. Now, however, the price for its beauty seemed to be owning every breath she took.
"Oh yes, my chin stands out in that one," Gilderoy said, pointing to one of the prints Carl held in his hands. Then, looking up, he smiled widely at her, "Alright, my dear, we can call that a wrap, I think. Good work."
"Already?"
Gilderoy beamed at her. "Absolutely, you did splendid work. Your smile is simply gorgeous. No, no, keep the robes, they're much more stylish than the ironic ones you wore in. Good joke, by the way."
Gisella flushed, reminding herself to get rid of the plain, fitted black robes she had worn in. She had started towards the change room, but upon Gilderoy's instruction, moved towards Blaise. Her son had spread himself out on the lounge, the picture he had been coloured covered in scribbles. She quickly reached out and put it in her pocket, glancing at Gilderoy in case he saw it; by the way he had turned back to examine the pictures again, demanding Carl to make his eyes twinkle in the edits, she had a feeling he wouldn't appreciate her son's artistic capabilities.
Holding her hand out for Blaise to take, she smiled as he hopped down and said, "Finally."
"Uh, well, thank you for today. I enjoyed myself," she said, pausing by the door.
Gilderoy glanced up, smiling again. "Anytime, my dear. I shall let you know when the cover design is finished."
She nodded, wavering on the spot. She wanted to leave, but at the same time, wanted to make sure the man knew how much she appreciated the opportunity to model for him. Deciding it best to show her interest in it, she said, "I'm very excited to see the results. So… What is the book going to be about?"
The blond paused before answering. "Ah, well, it will feature a bit of magical beings. Goblins, possibly ghosts. Actually, may I ask you a favour, dear?"
She nodded eagerly, ignoring the way Blaise tugged on her hand and tried to open the door. "Sure."
Gilderoy beamed. "Well, see if you can talk to your husband about his work for me. You know, what his ideas on taming ghosts and ghouls is. I'd like to get some facts from an expert and compare my results."
"Absolutely," she promised and, seeing Gilderoy wink at her and wave goodbye, she left the building. Her heart swelled with happiness. Perhaps, just maybe, Michael hadn't completely ruined her chances in life after all.