geoviki | I'm writing, like the good little writer person I am

Mr. Geoviki and I celebrated our *mumbleth* anniversary yesterday by going on an official, two-adult-and-zero-kid date. He wanted to see "What the &*%$# do we know", which is about quantum physics. Somehow, that didn't strike me as a hot date film. Instead we went to see "Sky Captain and blah, blah, blah". My verdict: Jude Law is cute. Otherwise the movie was a horrible bore. Eighteen bucks and neither one of us liked it. YMMV.

I'm gearing up for a meta post on ATBT, but I'd like to say that I'm working on a bit of a sequel. And yeah, it's got the Draco-is-a-model thing, so be warned. I don't have a title or, worse, enough song lyrics yet.

Bluebeard's Bloody Blade, the letters proclaimed from a disgustingly creative sign hanging over the door to the establishment. Suppressing a frown, Severus Snape was on the verge of pulling open the door when he noticed that the door handle he had nearly grabbed hold of was a literal, if not historically accurate, knife. The sharpened blade glistened mere inches from his fingers.

“You may not want to do that, Severus,” a flat voice called from behind. Turning, he saw his dining companion striding towards him.

“So I've noticed.”

He paused to allow the other man to join him, then watched as he brought out his wand and said, “Alohomora.” The door swung open.

“Not a particularly welcoming place,” Snape said.

“But the food is superb. I think they're trying to keep out undesirables. The proprietors must figure if you can stomach the name and the decor, you just might not collapse when you see your bill.”

“Ah. Well, since you are more familiar with this place, I think I'll let you lead the way. Mr. Carmichael.”

That earned him a smile. “No need for formality. Call me David.”

They were greeted by an extremely tall older man who was careful not to look at either one of them. With little fanfare, they were led to a secluded booth, but he didn't relax until the privacy shields were in place.

“Will I be dining with David throughout the entire meal?” he finally asked, peering over his menu.

“Oh, no. I just trot him out for the stroll down Diagon Alley. I walked from Flourish and Blotts.” Even as he spoke, the nondescript features of David Carmichael were fading away, and Draco Malfoy shot him a pleased smile.

“Walked?”

Draco nodded. “ It's been a long, slow morning. I needed to stretch my legs. Jake's had me in the most uncomfortable positions known to modeling. You wouldn't believe—” He stopped, and Snape looked at him carefully. Draco was contemplating him with a devilish look.

“What?”

“You've never seen me working at the studio, Severus. Don't you think it's time?”

“No.”

“Oh, come on. You might learn something.”

“No. I have no desire to watch you display yourself like some rent boy, Draco.”

Draco laughed nervously. “How would you know what I look like in the studio?”

“Sully cornered me with her infamous scrapbook, of course.”

Draco groaned. “Oh, hell. I should have guessed. She carries that thing around with her like a baby. I still haven't managed to figure out how she gets hold of the pictures. What's worse, I can't seem to shut off her source.”

“For someone who presumably models clothing, there seems to be little in evidence from what I've seen. I seem to remember several where you were wearing nothing but a rather self-satisfied smile.”

Draco chuckled. “But you couldn't see anything.”

“That's only because you were wrapped rather indecorously around a young woman.”

“It was just the once, Severus! Don't be such a bloody prude.”

Snape ignored the challenge. “Then there was the series of photos where you looked like a vagabond. Scruffy beard, hair combed with an egg-beater, mismatched shirts. Which were marginally better than the ones of you in the chiffon dress.”

“It's art. Hey, I don't understand it myself, but it keeps me off the streets.”

“Hard to tell from the pictures,” he snapped.