teaser chapter

May 06, 2010 09:19

I have been inspired by Moulin Rouge.

I read over at the HP lexicon that a galleon was roughly 20 American dollars, so that's what I'm going by here.

It's just a really rough draft of part of the 1st chapter and has probably already been through a million mental changes :) Your thoughts and feedback are greatly appreciated!

Title: In Return
Pairing: Draco/Ginny
rating: This section is just PG
Author: jessicakmalfoy


“Ginny, mon cher! You have a guest. Booth eight.”

Ginny glanced up from her lighten mirror, the makeup brush in her hand frozen halfway to her face. “He's here?”

“Yes, amor,” Harold, her boss, said quickly, making motions to shoo her out of the room. “He is asking for you.”

Ginny dropped the brush on her dressing room table and stood up straight. “How do I look? Should I change? Ah Merlin! He knows I'm in the next number.”

“And there's a 20 minute intermission after this song,” Harold said. “Besides, you look fantastic in that costume. Now go. We can't afford to lose him. He's our most profitable patron.”

She nodded, glancing down at the short, green sequined number she was wearing. Tight, bright and flashy. That was exactly what he liked. “He didn't tell me he was going to be in Paris,” Ginny told Harold. “Actually he said he was going to be in Tokyo for two weeks.” She carefully rolled up her tight high fishnet stockings and stuck her feet in her shiny black dancing heels.

“Maybe it's someone else asking for you then?” Harold winked at her.

The first time he had asked for her, was the first time any of their patron's wealthy enough to ask for a specific girl, had requested her. Harold had been beside himself with excitement when he came to tell her. “Ginny,” he had called for her, searching out her red hair amid the sea of girls backstage. “Someone has requested you.”

“Me?” She had stopped and stared at him. “No one requests me.”

“They do request you.” He brushed her protests aside. “But when we tell them what you will and will not do, they change their mind.”

Being available to the men and women who frequented their cabaret was not a requirement, but most girls made themselves available because it was an easy way to make extra cash. Not all the girls would sleep with their patrons, but many of them did. Each girl had a set list of what she would do and how much it would cost, but Ginny's list was very short. She would sit with them, dance solo numbers for them, and kiss but only at her digression. Because of that, no one ever bothered with her.

“It would help you pay off your debts more quickly,” her fellow dancer, Trixie, would tell her. “Maybe just some under the table hand jobs?”

“No way,” Ginny would tell her, giggling at the very thought of it.

So when Harold told her someone was requesting her, she could hardly believe it. He must have some sort of ginger fetish, she told herself. But either way, just her company at a private table would cost 5 galleons an hour and she would get one of those. It would be another galleon towards her debts.

Ginny had quickly changed into an emerald green gown, the only one she had at that time which wasn't part of a costume, and hurried off to the private booth to meet him.

She had nearly fainted with shock when she recognized the patron from her days at Hogwarts. Of course, she hadn't really known him, as he was a year older than her and in the Slytherin house, but still. As far as she knew, no one from home knew of her life at the cabaret.

But he had been nothing like she'd imagined. He was sweet and kind to her, wanting to know every detail of what had brought her to the club and her life and her hopes for the future. In the year that Ginny had been at the club, there was no one to really talk to, so she spilled all her secrets to the practical stranger at her table.

When the night drew to an end, Ginny realized he hadn't made one inappropriate move towards her, and he had only bought her champagne, unlike the other patrons who bought the girl's shots to get them drunk as quickly as possible. He kissed her on the hand and bid her goodnight, and when Ginny rose from bed the next day, Harold informed her that on top of her fee for the four hours he'd spent with her, he'd left Ginny a 50 galleon tip.

Ginny's never had so much money in her possession at one time, but she gave most of it to Harold, insisting that he put it towards her debts and kept seven for herself. It was enough to take her to see a few sites in the city and eat a really good meal.

A sharp laugh from across the room drew Ginny from her musings, and she glanced over to see Nini watching her in the mirror. “No one else ever asks for you, cheri,” she spat.

“Why do you care?” Ginny shot back, even though she knew that Nini only cared because she was used to the men asking for her. Nini was tall and gorgeous. She had thick blond hair that always seemed to tumble down her back in perfect waves and she filled out her dresses perfectly, without the charms and temporary spells the other dancers used, but Ginny knew it was all fake. The girl had obviously had permanent work done.

Ginny knew as well as everyone that no one else ever asked to see her. Why should they? She was just a back up dancer at the cabaret, not the star - that was Nini. Their customers barely noticed her. “Has he said anything else?” Ginny asked quietly. “About that new show?”

“Non.” Harold shook his head. “But I want you to ask him now. Go, go!”

Ginny grabbed the engraved pill case her benefactor had brought her from his recent trip to Hong Kong. She had been inexplicably worn out lately, despite sleeping most the day when he was gone, and Trixie had offered her some pills - things to keep her awake. Ginny knew she shouldn't, but they worked better than any potions or magic she could do, so she took them. When she had time, she would go visit a healer and get proper care. She popped one in her mouth, swallowing it down with a drink of water.

With one more glance in the mirror to make sure her makeup and hair were in place, Ginny hurried out into the dark sitting area of the cabaret. There was one lone singer on stage, and most the tables were occupied with secret couples who weren't paying the singer any attention. She tried to appear graceful in her rush as she headed up a set of stairs that led to the dim, semi-private balcony booths that only their wealthiest of patrons could enjoy. Usually her benefactor occupied booth six, right in the middle, but that night Ginny passed it without looking in, her eyes focused on booth eight. While she very much enjoyed her benefactor's company - and money, she wasn't going to lie to herself - she'd never had a benefactor before and it made her nervous. He had told her he liked the fact that she hadn't slept with him immediately; he thought it clearly set her apart from the other girls. He'd even gone as far as to ask why she worked there, when she should be a stage actress. It was nice: the attention, the lavish gifts, the promises of stardom. But she knew it wasn't going to be like this forever. He was going to want her to sleep with him soon. In fact, he had told her the last time he'd seen her that he didn't want to wait any longer.

“You're not like the rest of those girls,” he had told her, tugging gently on the long red curls piled atop her head. “You're prettier and more talented. But most of all, I like the fact that you don't bed the first man to flash a galleon at you.”

“I haven't bedded anyone since I started working here,” Ginny blurted out, the words escaping her lips before she even realized what she'd said.

Her words and the blush in her cheeks only served to increase the fire in his eyes. “Two weeks in Tokyo,” he whispered in her ear, his fingers tracing light paths on her neck, “then a week at home and I will be back here.”

He was so hard to resist. He was beautiful and always kind to her. He had mentioned that he'd spoken with Harold about financing a major production for the cabaret - he wanted a huge, money making spectacular and he wanted Ginny to be the star. He had found a writer he thought promising and with Ginny's name attached to the title, he predicted she would be out of the cabaret and into real, respectable theatre within months. If anyone would know about that, he would. He owned the wizarding world's largest entertainment company. He had his fingers in stage theater, music productions, dance and even Muggle movies, which were becoming more popular with wizards.

“Not that there is anything wrong with the cabaret,” he assured her between kisses. “But I know it is not what you really want, is it?”

And she'd had to admit that while fun, it was not. Her job at the cabaret was only as good as her looks, and those wouldn't last forever.

“I've brought you something,” he told her that night, reaching into the pocket of his suit jacket.

“You shouldn't have,” she chastised him lightly, her fingers traveling across his thigh. She was already wearing the diamond earrings he had given her weeks before. Her dressing room table and her small bedroom above the cabaret were constantly laden down with brilliant hand-painted purples roses that were replaced the instant they began to wilt. He had brought her clothing from his various world travels: silk sleeping gowns from China, lace trimmed dresses from tiny European towns, skimpy bathing suits from Brazil, stilettos from Milan and gorgeous knickers from around the world.

“I want to,” he told her obstinately. “It makes me happy.”

He slid the black box towards her, and her heart had jumped ever so slightly as she opened it. The diamond necklace inside glittered ostentatiously even in the dim light of their booth. Hands trembling, she lifted it from the case. It was all diamonds, crossing over each other in the front, with each end containing a dangling emeralds.

“Diamonds,” he told her quietly, “are forever. I wanted you to have them so you'll know how I feel about you. And then the emeralds, of course, they set off your beautiful hair.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, swallowing hard as he placed the jewelry around her neck. She'd never had such a gift in her life.

“Promise me,” he whispered, “that you will always be mine.”

Ginny had two major problems with this. She'd never been expected to sleep with anyone just because they spent so much money on her. But even Harold was pressuring her, telling her to think of the cabaret and what her benefactor could do for them and her career and her debt. The second problem was, while she did like him and maybe even more than a bit, he was married.

That was why he had to spend a week at home after Tokyo. His wife liked to attend fancy parties in London that guaranteed her name in the society column of The Daily Prophet and she liked to go with her husband on her arm. On top of that, they had two young children to care for.

While she had no delusions that he was ever going to leave his wife for her, she did like him. He knew about her debt and if he financed a large production for the cabaret, he had promised her that he would have a contract drawn up so that a percentage of the profits would go towards her debt. Twice he had even offered to pay off her debt, but she had refused, knowing that would make her his plaything for as long as he wanted.

She just wasn't ready for that yet.

Sometimes she wondered what she would be doing if her family had survived the war in tact. What would she be doing if three of her brothers hadn't died? If Harry hadn't died while killing Voldemort? If her mum hadn't gone mad with grief, refusing to take care of herself? If her dad hadn't fallen further and further into his work, until one winter day he too had dropped dead, his heart failing? What if her mum hadn't tried to kill herself then, resulting in constant psychiatric care that was too great for Ginny to afford? She certainly wouldn't have sold herself into the indentured servitude of Harold Dubois and his Glace Cabaret.

But that made it seem like she hated Harold and the cabaret, and neither was true. Harold had always been a good friend to the Weasley family and it happened that besides needing a backup dancer who could hold a tune, he had enough money to keep Molly in good hands.

It hadn't been a hard choice and mostly, she'd enjoyed the wild nightlife at the cabaret. She liked sleeping the morning away, even though there were times the pills she had started taking kept her up through the sunrise, but she enjoyed seeing that too. She loved living in Paris - the language was beautiful, the sights were endless and she loved the food - even if she only had a tiny room above the cabaret and a loo that she shared with three other girls. They had a cook to fix meals for them and she got to wear beautiful clothes every night. It was more than she'd had at home; by the time she had approached Harold, Ginny had sold most of her possessions to pay for Molly's care.

Harold had been thrilled when an internationally known, incredibly rich wizard had asked for her after a show one night. “His money in our cabaret would put us on the map,” Harold had told Ginny.

“Why would you need his money?” Ginny asked warily. She'd seen the benefactors some of the other girls picked up. Some were no more than a passing one night fancy, but others were controlling and even cruel, leaving some of the dancers with bruises that makeup and charms had to work hard to conceal. Only Zula had a benefactor who was constantly around without being overbearing. Cabaret dancers didn't exactly bring in the most upstanding clientele. “The cabaret does just fine.”

“His name is gold in the entertainment industry,” Harold reminded her. “Besides, you are the one who needs his money. Just go see him. Sweet and innocent is what he likes and you fit the bill.”

So far it had all worked out, but Ginny knew that he was probably going to want to return to her room that night. While part of her hoped that he wouldn't, she knew better than that. The least she could hope for was that he would want to take her back to his big beautiful hotel, instead of trying to fit the two of them into her tiny green and gold trimmed bedroom. Her room was more like a large closet, over flowing with clothing, shoes and jewelry, that someone had stuck a bed in.

And then she spotted his silhouette in the booth and she slipped in next to him, wrapping her arms around him the way he liked and kissing him hello. “Hello darling,” she said in her sexiest voice. “I didn't expect you back so soon. But I've missed you.”

She cupped his face in her hands, pressing her lips to his again and nipping at his lower lip as she let her tongue explore his mouth. When she finally broke free, she smiled to herself, pleased that his kissing was even more enthusiastic than usual, if that were even possible.

“That was not the hello I was expecting,” he drawled, “but I could get used to it.”

Ginny froze, horrified. That drawl, while distinctly British, wasn't not Blaise Zabini's voice.

The man next to her shifted slightly, and the unmistakable white blond hair of Draco Malfoy came into view.

“Oh Merlin,” Ginny gasped, clasping her hands together. “I thought you were someone else.”

“Should I be offended?” he asked.

“No, no,” she tried to assure him, mortified. Blaise had probably sent Malfoy there and she had gone and snogged him. “These booths are just so dark... I thought you were Blaise.”

“Excuse me?” She could hear the amusement clearly in his voice. “You thought I was Blaise? Blaise Zabini? Perhaps you should get your eyes checked, love. We look nothing alike.”

“I know,” she told him quickly. “He's just the only person who ever asks to see me, so I thought... He didn't send you?”

“I haven't seen Blaise in years,” he told her smoothly. “Not since he tried suing my company. Now tell me about Zabini.”

Ginny felt herself sinking down in the seat, mortified. “I thought you were friends.”

“Hogwarts was years ago,” he brushed her comment off.

“Less than ten years ago,” she protested.

“Are you going to tell me why Zabini calls for you?” he demanded. “The quicker you do, the faster I can decide why I'm here.”

“Well I don't know exactly why he calls for me,” she told him. “He's just the only person who ever does. Have you seen my list? It's quite boring.”

“Yes, it is,” Malfoy agreed dryly. “The man at the counter tried to convince me to take another girl. He thought I'd like that awful Nini.”

Ginny couldn't help laughing. “She is the star of our cabaret.”

“She's so fake.” He wrinkled his nose in disgust. “Not my type at all.”

“Are you saying I'm your type?” she said, her flirting on autopilot.

“I'm saying I spotted you on stage and I wanted to know what in Merlin's name Ginny Weasley was doing on stage.”

“Then... I'm not your type?” She pretended to pout.

“Drop the act,” he told her sharply. “If I wanted to be charmed out of my money, I'd have requested someone else.”

“Fine,” she shrugged. “I'm here because it's a fun job. And I make a good deal of money doing it.”

“You can't possibly make as much money as the others,” he told her, ordering drinks for them. “You do nothing for your clients.”

“Just dancing.” She rolled her eyes. “I make enough money dancing.”

“I don't believe you.”

“I don't care if you don't. I don't even know you.”

“I think I would like to get to know you,” he told her, resting his fingers on top of her hand.

“Absolutely,” Ginny told him, her eyes twinkling. “I have all the time in the world to get to know you... provided you can afford my fee!”

“Of course I can.” He looked put out. “I can afford far more than Zabini can afford.”

TBC
Previous post Next post
Up