Angel on the cover

A/N: the brief decription below, is actually really a part of the Dolce Gabbana collection and obviously belongs to their company













The agency had selected models to represent the Dolce & Gabbana spring collection. Draco, happy for his last well paying assignment, found himself in a sea of pretty faces and half naked bodies as he strolled mindlessly down a “runway,” cameras flashing in his face. Muggles were so odd, he thought; he couldn’t imagine them wearing any of the styles he’d seen so far. He glanced at his apparel and admitted he would never wear it on the street either no matter how well it complimented him. It was more suited for the bedroom, acting out some long desired fantasy… maybe something involving Native Americans.



A long sleeve brown suede jacket with crisscross design on its sleeves was all that adorned his torso, and the material fell down to his waist. The bottom was not much better: he wore matching briefs and a leather band that hung around the ankle of one of his bare feet. Most of the clothing fell in that theme. One pair of shorts he wore said Apache across the crotch, which Robert had explained was a tribe of Native Americans.



After being covered in concealing robes for the majority of his life, the change to Muggle clothing had been a bit disorienting at first. With time, he’d grown to love the designer clothing sold at the exclusive muggle stores, especially Armani.



If there was one thing that had been familiar was the atmosphere about the modeling industry, it was that the people were calculating, widely smiling and congratulating you on your success while silently wishing you would succumb to some horrible addiction.



He surprised himself a little when he didn’t partake in the power plays or try to establish himself within them. For once in his life, even if in this miniscule thing, he felt confident enough with himself that it seemed unnecessary. He remembered when it had all changed, those years before in Hogwarts.



*****

Sixth Year –Hogwarts

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He had never regretted being a Slytherin until he returned to school after his mother’s self-inflicted demise. His emotions were heightened, and for the first time in his life, he felt completely alone. Previously satisfied to let his father tailor what felt like his own skin, he suddenly realized how out of place he felt in this creation of the prodigal son. There was no one that he could turn to; people with their own agendas and ambitions surrounded him.



Even Severus had imparted the news of his mother’s death with a sense of detachment. He was very business when he addressed Draco on the train ride to Hogwarts.





“Wipe, your face Mr. Malfoy. You’re a Slytherin. Now is not the time for you to blubber like a child,” He sneered. “Your time for theatrics has ceased, the only person who would have been moved by the act is dead.”



The bottom of the flaring hemline was the last he had seen of Snape. He refused to look up from the sight of tears falling on clenched hands.



The first encounter with his housemates after the news spread had been much worse. In the most difficult moment of his life, he learned he would receive no genuine sympathy. His father was in Azkaban and his standing in their den was wavering He struggled to maintain his composure.



“Nott says he wants an answer,” Gregory said as he sat on Draco’s four-poster bed.





“What are we going to do, Draco?” Vincent added.



‘How can I tell you what to do when I don’t even know myself?’ he thought.



His mother’s message had been clear: she had no intention of letting him involve himself with a mission from the Dark Lord. Could he trust them enough to tell them of his uncertainty? The silence that awaited his response was broken unexpectedly.



“I think you should do what your mother wanted. Sometimes I think we go about things the wrong way because we don’t know any different.”





Draco was surprised by Vincent’s comment;he had never bothered to offer an opinion before.



“Draco, your mother was a Slytherin, and the wife of the Dark Lord’s right hand man. If she couldn’t find another way to get what she wanted, what chance do we have? She chose the option that would help you survive- I think we should follow it.” Vincent seemed apprehensive of Draco’s reaction but firm in his position.



Draco looked to Gregory who nodded his agreement.



******





It was the first of many conversations that had begun to change Draco’s world. His mother’s almost Gryffindor actions and his “bodyguards” willingness to follow his direction like Hufflepuffs all served to chip away the foundation his father had laid.



The expecting wizard was growing sappy and melancholy at the recollections and he blamed it all on the little witch or wizard cultivating in his belly, who demanded chocolate confections at the most inopportune moments. Fortunately for the both of them, their father was a very resourceful person.



In no time at all, he sat enjoying the treat he’d cajoled Robert into smuggling in for him. Silver glinted off the spoon as it made a downward stroke, greedily gathering up as much vanilla covered brownie as it could carry. Another pair of eyes followed its final destination past those naturally rose lips into the warm cradle of his mouth. Her whimper accompanied his satisfied moan as he licked the spoon clean.



The owner of the sound of distress was brunette by the name of Mary Anne. Her blue eyes continued following his movements, unaware another woman was focused on her expression. Draco could only describe the pair as the wholesome girl next door and a redheaded femme fatale. The latter was named Lisette.



“Don’t even look at it look at it, Mary Anne,” the willowy redhead chided, her hands on her hips and eyeing the brunette’s hourglass figure. “It’s hard enough for the designers to find clothes for you, don’t you think?”



Her words were an obvious taunt at an earlier problem with the fitting of the Mary’s clothing. Draco knew Mary had been discovered in a flower shop, and thought it best that she wilted as quickly as her former charges.



Lisette turned to him with her red lips stretched into a coy smile.



“You shouldn’t eat that either, Draco. You wouldn’t want to ruin your pretty complexion.” Her brown eyes ran slowly over his skimpy outfit. “If you must eat, there’s cottage cheese and fruit dips over there. ” She indicated a table at the opposite side of the room with a red-clawed finger.



She got points for being catty, but she had nothing on Pansy or the other Slytherin’s, Draco conceded. “I appreciate the advice,” his phony smile indicated how indebted he felt, “but I wont have an issue fitting in any attire, and unlike yourself, I don’t need to gorge in secret and top of my meals with my finger down my throat.”



Mary gasped and Lisette turned toward her, cringing at the look of horror on the plump model’s face. Lisette’s glare made threats even if her lips didn’t. Draco watched indifferently as she disappeared from sight.



“Draco,” Mary asked tentatively, “is that true?”



“No, it’s not,” a voice interjected. Draco dropped his head back over the top of the chair to look at the owner of the denial.



“She didn’t deny it, Robert.”





“Probably because she was too indignant to reply, Draco. Mary, please go find her and get ready. You guys go on in ten.”



“I think she does,” Draco whispered loudly to Mary as she hurried in the direction the bitchy model had gone.





“Draco, if I remember correctly, you were the one throwing up in the bathroom this morning,” Rob said in a teasing tone while sitting in the recently vacated chair next to Draco.



The blonde glared at him for the reminder. “You wouldn’t remember if there was a place to hide my wand in this thing, would you? One quick swish…a little Obliviate…” he trailed off with a devious smile on his face.





“I may be a muggle, but I know enough from my brother not to let an angry wizard point a wand at me. Why are you dressed already?”



The blond shrugged. “Because I didn’t want to wear the loincloth, and it was either me or Fionn for the two pieces. So I chose first.”





“You’re something else. Besides satisfied for tormenting poor Fionn, how are you feeling? You sounded pretty miserable before; should you really be eating this?”



“I’ll have my wand back at some point, you know. My morning meal didn’t sit well that’s all; it’s not uncommon for people in my condition.”



“Ok, I promise not to mention the incident again no need for threats. Your condition,” he repeated, “of all the things that my brother told me about the wizarding world, that stuck out the most. Men having babies without women….” He shook his head with a rueful smile. “So do you need to take some potion? Chant under some tree during the witching hour?”



“No, you fool, it’s happens naturally,” Draco retorted.



“So you can have the same surprise pregnancies as hetero couples?” he cringed after the words left his mouth and Draco’s face lost the easy going smile.



Draco slowly laid his empty dish gently on the table behind them and stood up. “Thank you for everything, Robert. I wont be seeing you later because I’m leaving right after.” Draco extended a hand to him like the man had extended his those months ago. “It was a little a perverted, but I wont hex your bits off.”



With one last firm shake, he turned to leave



“Draco?”



“Yes?”



“Keep in touch. I’ll look for something for you if you need to work again.”



Draco nodded and left him with a genuine smile.





* * * * *

The neighbours had grown nervous. The new tenant had seemed nice enough when he moved in, but he never left his flat. The only time the young man would leave was for groceries, and then he would come out of the house with a high collared jacket hiding most of his face, his hair an uncontrollable mess. His appearance was not the worst of their concerns, nor was his apparent desire to be a recluse. It was the screams that they had heard from his flat the night he moved in that peaked their concern.



The wails had been so painful that, out of concern, the police were called, but they said he had only been dreaming. What kind of dreams could elicit such horrible sounds? Since that night, nothing could be heard from his flat at all, and truth be told, it was hard to remember someone lived there. It was unsettling- a young man should have been filling their block with loud rock music and an obnoxious car whose engine sounded like a gunshot when it backfired, but not a sound could be heard.