Shades of Grey

Chapter Twelve: Luck Be A Lady

“Luck be a lady, tonight.” – Frank Sinatra and Julie London's Luck Be A Lady.


The sun had just begun to rise, and Ginevra Weasley was jerked awake from her sleeping position on the sofa in the parlour to the sound of soft clicking. She brought her head up to see who or what was exactly disturbing her slumber when her confusion quickly turned to giddy joy at the sight of a familiar old owl perched on the windowsill near the front door, impatient to be let inside.

She jumped up and ran over to the window and opened the latch, allowing for Errol to step inside. She greeted the scrawny and ancient family owl with an affectionate soft stroke on the top of its head and retrieved the note attached to its ankle. She unrolled the parchment and grinned.

She had sent word to her father a few days ago, asking him if he could acquire an old Muggle device for her. His letter said that he would obtain one for her and deliver it to her by Portkey as soon as possible.

Ginevra giggled to herself as she held the letter close to her chest. She had a feeling that Malfoy—er—Draco would like the surprise that she had in store for him.

She grabbed her wand off the table near the sofa and walked over to Draco's cell, knocking lightly on the door.

“Enter,” he murmured from the other side, and she unlocked the door.

The tall and now broad blond sat on the end of his already made bed with folded towels on his lap. His hair was long now, very long. It reached down past his shoulders, and was unnaturally white and straight. His skin was a smooth alabaster colour even though they had gone outside every day for the past two months. He had gained a little colour from these daily excursions; however, the boy was just naturally pale.

His pewter-coloured irises, remarkably, were sharp and penetrating, largely due to the scar below his right eye. It had now healed, showing a smooth white ridge that curved towards jaw line. He looked older somehow, but in a dignified and refined sort of way. He was looking very much like the dashing rake one would find in romance novels.

“Ready for your bath, I see,” she commented dryly, still grinning.

“Yeah,” he answered, nodding his head as he stood up and brought a hand to his chin. “I was wondering if you have a razor or a pair of scissors?” he asked, putting both hands into his trouser pockets, holding the towels in the crook of his arm.

“For cutting your hair?” she asked warily.

For one thing, she really did not want him to cut his hair. He looked quite roguish with long hair. It really suited him. It made him look like his father. While Lucius Malfoy was a right evil bastard, more than his son could ever be, she had to admit that his father was a rather good-looking bloke. Not many men could pull off long blond hair. What really concerned her, however, was what Draco would do with a razor. It was true that over the past three months, he had seemed much content with himself than he had been before, but she didn't want to chance him cutting himself again.

“Shaving,” he replied quickly, glancing away, the ghost of a guilty expression hanging on his face.

Ginevra pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes on the seemingly clean-shaven blond.

“But you've hardly a hair on your face!” she exclaimed, folding her arms across her chest in suspicion as she found his explanation to be rather dubious.

“That's because I have been shaving,” he retorted, and she cocked an eyebrow in the air.

“How?”

Draco swallowed and sighed out through his nostrils, bringing his right hand out of his pocket to grasp his towels once again.

“I've been using the glass from the mirror,” he admitted after a brief pause, looking up at her through his long, blond eyelashes.

The same mirror he had used to cut into his face, he was now using as a grooming device.

“It takes a long time to do a proper job with it,” he explained, taking in a breath of air. “And it also tends to catch,” he added, rubbing his chin thoughtfully as he frowned. “I figure I could trim more hair and cut less skin with a proper razor and some scissors.” He offered her a devilish smirk.

It didn't work on her.

Ginevra tilted her head and frowned. She could trust this man to not attack or harm her, but she wasn't quite ready to trust him to not hurt himself.

“I have a kit upstairs,” she said slowly, and his eyes momentarily brightened. “But there's a condition,” she stated, and he furrowed his brow.

“What?” he asked, wondering what stipulation she had to offer him.

“I do the trimming.”

~*~

Draco closed the bathroom door behind him and brought the towels up to his chest.

The Weaselette was going to … shave him. The image was – at once – both erotic and disturbing. As much as he had started to get along with the redhead (and even begin to find her attractive), he wasn't quite sure if her trusted her with a razor to his neck.

He finally set down his towels on the sink counter and walked over to the tub to draw himself a bath. Sans bubbles (as he had refused to have the damnable things after the Missing Bubbles Fiasco), he stepped inside the steamy water, which was slightly too hot for his liking (but he would endure), and sat down. After a minute, he let out a long protracted sigh and finally sank back, fully into the water, leaning his head against the rim of the tub. It's funny how the simple things in life can be so satisfying.

He must have drifted off for a moment for he could hear the Weasley girl's voice on the other side of the door.

“Malfoy, you okay?” she asked him.

Still sleepy, he nodded his head.

“Mhmm," he responded, closing his eyes in bliss. "It's Draco," he added, murmuring.

“I'm coming in,” she said, and his eyes shot wide open.

“Weasley!” he cried as the petite redhead strode into the room with a small kit in her hand.

“Ginevra, remember?” she corrected him with a small smirk on her lips, which quickly turned into an O expression as her eyes widened, resembling a shocked-looking doe.

She had expected him to have been done his bath already since he had been in there for fifteen minutes, and she had also expected him to be using bubbles again, which he was not.

“Gin-e-vra,” he replied, enunciating her name through gritted teeth as he stared up at her with narrowed grey eyes. “What do I owe the pleasure in having to receive you whilst soaking naked in the tub?”

He hadn't bothered to cover himself or draw his knees up. He looked somewhat annoyed, nonchalant, and, perhaps, even smug.

“I … uh,” she fumbled for words as she brought a hand up to her eyes. “You've been in here forever. I thought you were done,” she explained, peeking out through her fingertips, which did indeed elicit a rather smug-looking smirk from the wet blond.

“So you thought you'd come in and offer to towel me off?” he asked, raising a suggestive eyebrow.

“No,” she answered rather quickly, blushing. “I had read somewhere that steam opens up the pores and makes for a cleaner shave,” she offered as she lowered her hand but looked away.

“Where did you read that?” he asked, sounding not all too convinced as he stood up inside the tub.

Ginevra quickly turned her body in the opposite direction, facing the counter, which also happened to have a large mirror (luckily it was fogged up).

“Witch Weekly, I think,” she answered hurriedly, in a rather high-pitched voice.

“Uh huh,” he murmured behind her as he cleared his throat. “Could you pass me a towel, Ginevra?” he asked painstakingly sweet (too sweet), and she could almost feel him grinning ravenously behind her.

She bent down and reached forward, picking up the top towel from the chair and quickly threw her hand back, trying to hand him the towel behind her without having to turn around.

“Thanks for handing me the hand towel, Ginevra,” he said wryly. “If this is what you think is an estimation of the size of my torso, I would suggest you turn around and have a better look.” He smirked.

Damn Malfoy.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, blushing several shades of pink as she reached forward again and grabbed the bottom towel, which was much larger.

She thrust her arm back again, and his wet hand made contact with her dry one, sliding the towel out of her grasp.

“Why do you have a hand towel anyway?” she asked lamely, wiping her hand along the leg of her trousers.

“It was for after shaving,” he replied in a muffled voice as he dried his face with the large towel and then the rest of his body.

Ginevra clutched the grooming kit tightly in her hand. She could have used a wand, but she didn't know any proper spells to shave, and she really did not want to be given shaving magic lessons by Draco Malfoy.

“So are we ready?” he asked in a low, almost sultry voice behind her, and, on instinct, she turned around.

Ginevra took a step and almost tripped over her own two feet. While she knew that the blond was a rather attractive bloke in school, the Draco Malfoy standing before her right now was nothing short of a Greek god. The large towel draped around his torso, which was narrow and trim. His broad and no long flat chest was still glistening with beads of water that rolled down towards his defined abdomen that seemed to ripple as he breathed.

She could see the long white scar that went across his right chest to his right bicep, no doubt the scar that Harry had given him in their sixth year. It seemed to fit perfectly with the scar on his face, which subtly highlighted the steel depths of his now merrily dancing eyes, which also drew attention to the cheeky grin on his soft lips.

Draco pushed his long wet hair out of his face, slicking it back down between his shoulder blades.

“Ginevra?” he asked and after a moment of no response, just her standing there, staring at his body with an open mouth, he cleared his throat. “Weasley?”

“Yes!” she exclaimed, snapping her head up. “Shaving. Yes. Uh, come take a seat over here,” she said as she pointed hastily to the chair.

He smirked and let out a soft chortle as he walked over and sat down elegantly in the chair.

“Now we're of equal height,” he commented with a wink, and she resisted the urge to swat him on his wet naked chest.

“Funny, Malfoy,” she responded, deadpan, as she set the shaving kit on the counter and took out a wide brush and some cream.

“It's Draco, remember?” He smirked. “You might as well just use your hands instead of that brush. It will get the job done quicker.”

Ginevra raised an eyebrow but complied, setting down the soft brush. Did he want her to touch his face?

She dipped her fingers into the small container and began to rub the cream, in circular motions, onto his smooth face, causing him to smile and lean his head back in comfort. She then walked over to the sink and filled a small basin with warm water and set it down beside him on the counter. She reached over and pulled out a long straight razor, and that was when Draco's smile faltered.

Ginevra saw the look on his face, and it was now time for her to grin.

“Trust me, Draco,” she almost cooed reassuringly as she dipped the blade in the hot water and brought it up to his neck.

He took in a deep breath and nodded his head, tilting it back for her to do what she must.

She held his chin with her thumb and middle finger as she slowly ran the blade upward, against the grain. She then dipped the blade in the water to wash it then wipe the residue on the side of the basin. She brought the razor back down to his neck and began again from the right side of his face, working her way to his left. When she reached the front of his throat and chin, she gently tilted his head back and straddled his lap so she could get in closer.

She put the blade close to his Adam's apple.

“Do you trust me?” she asked softly.

“Yes,” he replied, his voice almost above a whisper.

She smiled and brought the razor down, gently sliding it up his throat and over his chin until it reached his bottom lip. When she finally finished the rest of his face, giggling at her accomplishment as she threw the blade in the basin, he grabbed her waist and sat her down on his lap.

She let out a gasp as he breathed somewhat heavily and bent forward, resting his forehead against hers. She felt something stir beneath her, and she wriggled around on his lap.

“Don't!” he exclaimed sharply and drew his head back. “Don't squirm like that, Weasley,” he demanded half-heartedly as he smiled at her through half-lidded eyes.

At first, she didn't comprehend the look he was giving her or the large bump she felt sticking into her rear.

“I—”

“I apologise. I didn't know that this would make me ...” He paused and almost blushed. “You forgot underneath my nose,” he said suddenly, trying to change the subject, diverting the tension and embarrassment from his lap and heavy breathing.

“Oh!” she exclaimed rather squeakily and leaned forward to grab the razor, brushing her chest against his and then sat back down on his lap, causing him to moan softly into her neck.

“Sorry,” he apologised once more, drawing his face back away from hers.

She dabbed a bit of cream below his nose and slid the razor upwards, swallowing hard and trying desperately not to look into his stormy eyes or gaze too longingly at his full pink lips.

Ginevra giggled slightly when she finished, lightly dabbing away the cream and excess hair from his face with the hand towel. She slowly wiped the towel across his lips, staring down at them, wanting to lean down and taste them.

“All done?” he asked as she brought the towel back, and he placed his hands on her hips, causing her to jump. “Ung, I'll take that as a yes,” he groaned, still holding on to her, afraid that if he let go, his towel would fall off with her, and she would see how incredibly aroused he was.

“Uh huh,” she replied sheepishly and reached forward to tuck an errant strand of fine blond hair behind his ear. “So, do we cut the floppy fringe next?”

Draco shook his head and grinned, holding the lithe little redhead onto his lap, enjoying the moment.

“Maybe next time, Red,” he said as he stood up, lifting her up with him.

The towel, inevitably, dropped to the floor, causing Ginevra to hold her breath and look up into his deep grey eyes. His head tilted down, and she turned her face and gently pushed off him, turning around.

“I will wait for you outside,” she said quietly, and quickly ran out the door.

~*~

November had fast approached the Hollow. It was a chilly month, much colder than usual. Ever since the towel incident (they had so many incidents now), Ginevra had allowed Draco to shave his own face and trim his own hair. He had still kept his hair long though, much to her personal pleasure.

In other news, Ginevra’s father had finally come to visit her, to give her mother's and brothers' warm words of love and the Muggle items that she had asked him to acquire for her.

She set up the specified and highly anticipated item in the parlour, smiling giddily to herself as set the needle on the vinyl record. She turned up the volume on the record player and listened to it crackle and pop, the static ringing through all the way into Draco's cell.

The mellifluous melodies of Frank Sinatra and Julie London sang Luck Be A Lady, filling her heart with warmth and joy.

She pointed her wand at Draco's door and opened it wide.

Draco was standing in front of the door with a look of curiosity and amusement plastered on his face. He didn't know who was singing, but he was damn sure that they knew how to sing. He never thought he'd be so happy to hear two Muggles singing. Seven months of silence made him appreciate the beauty in song and the seraphic quality found in those who sang.

Ginevra was grinning from ear to ear, laughing at him as she turned up the volume even louder, dancing around the parlour. She motioned with her hands for him to come into the room, and he hesitantly took a step forward and left the confines of his cell.

“How did you get this?” he yelled over the music as he slowly sauntered towards her with his hands in his pockets.

“My dad!” she yelled, skipping around the room.

She had no idea who these two Muggles were (and perhaps it was her months of internment in this house), but she absolutely adored their voices.

When the song ended, she ran back over to the record player and played it again, familiarising herself with the lyrics.

Draco watched her run back and forth to the Muggle device, restarting it so that she could try to memorise the song. She just danced about the room, not caring how awful her rhythm was or how silly she looked just constantly twirling. She was happy and carefree. He smiled in return, feeling a sense of calm and ease watching her lose herself in the music.

“Hey, it's like he's you, and she's me!” she yelled, laughing.

He snorted.

“You think you can be a lady?” he asked facetiously, cocking his head to the side as he made his way to where she was dancing.

She stuck her tongue out at him and winked, singing the lyrics awkwardly but loudly.

“Stick with me baby, I'm the gal that you came in with!” she sang, ignoring his slight, not sure how she knew the lyrics already.

He reached her quickly and smoothly took her hand and twirled her around the room, dipping her at all the right times, holding her in all the right places.

“Why don't we keep this party polite?” he asked and grinned.

“Uh huh,” she replied, giggling.

“Never get out of my sight!” he said possessively as he drew her in close.

“No way!”

They both broke out into laughter, collapsing on the sofa.

He sat up and leaned towards her, which caused to sink into the sofa on her back as he fell forward and hovered over her, bracing his strong arms with his hands on either side of her head.

“Thank you, Ginevra,” he said after a moment, looking down into her soft caramel eyes as his long blond hair fell onto her face.

“You're welcome,” she breathed, smiling nervously up at him.

His face was precariously close to hers that she began to feel time like a heartbeat, the rhythmic thud sounding in her breast like a reckoning. She wanted to reach up and touch his beautifully sculpted face, trace her fingers along his scar and place the tips of her fingers on his full pink lips, letting them linger there to be kissed.

“Let's see what else Dad gave me,” she said abruptly, clearing her throat as she manoeuvred her way from underneath him and crawled off the sofa to jump up and jog over to the box of records.

She just had to get away. The nearness of him was suffocating her. She didn't know what she was thinking. She had been closer to Draco in these past six months than she had ever been with Harry. What was she thinking? Why was she beginning to feel so strongly about him, like he was someone normal, like he was someone she could trust?

Draco watched her go and frowned. He had been close to kissing her. Why? Over the past few months, he had begun to become intimate with the Weasley girl on a level he never thought possible. Her diary, her opening up to him, their discussions, his confession, the shave, the dance – maybe it was his isolation, but he was beginning to have feelings for his captor. Merlin, he hated to admit to the old adage, but she made him want to be a better man. Unfortunately, she was someone else's, and he had no one. He was just a lonely and bitter Heathcliff.

~*~

Author notes: And you thought I couldn't top The Bubbles Fiasco! Well let me tell you, a woman shaving a man is extremely sexy (at least my boyfriend thinks so). Plus, it's one of the ultimate signs of trust. Oh my, is this yet another scene that I must convert to smut in my Mine, Forever series?

Luck Be A Lady comes from the musical Guys and Dolls. The version Mr. Weasley sent to Ginevra was the original sung by Frank Sinatra and Julie London. (Am I a Big Band and Classic Blues and Jazz fan? Yes. Yes I am).