Fanfic: The Magic Behind the Camera by oldenuf2nb (Read for Free, 1,332,114 Clicks)

Description: Magical Photographer Evan Peverell is an enigma, one magazine assistant editor Draco Malfoy finds fascinating. The ‘rock star’ photog, with his purple hair streak and assorted piercings, is not remotely Draco’s type. And yet there’s just something about him¡­

Characters: No Archive Warnings ApplyDraco Malfoy/Harry PotterPansy Parkinson Assorted original characters Mundungus Fletcher25 Days of Harry and Draco 2019 Getting to Know Each Other WIP

Summary: Summary:

Magical Photographer Evan Peverell is an enigma, one magazine assistant editor Draco Malfoy finds fascinating. The ‘rock star’ photog, with his purple hair streak and assorted piercings, is not remotely Draco’s type. And yet there’s just something about him¡­

Notes: Notes:

Prompt used for Day 1Special thanks to sassy_cissa for being my bestie for the last fourteen years and cleaning up my messes for all of them. I love you. Join me on this year’s 25 Days of Draco and Harry journey.

Chapter 1

Chapter Text
Draco Malfoy swept through the offices of Sorci¨¨re magazine, his knee length dove grey silk coat floating open over his charcoal-colored slacks and elaborately embroidered waist coat. Like many of the younger moneyed witches and wizards in the UK with expendable income and no serious purpose, Draco enthusiastically embraced the style of Edwardian influenced fashion. Of course, Sorci¨¨re set the trends for everything from fashion to food to music, and though his official title was art director, everyone who was anyone knew he was the real ‘brains behind the throne’ at the popular magazine. Right now, the saucy little fanny with claim to the editorial throne was in very deep shit, as far as Draco was concerned. He’d been in the middle of a staff meeting planning next summer’s cover layout when photographer Simon Hinze, (pronounced Simone in an affectation Draco had never understood) stormed in and announced that ‘mademoiselle sacked him’. Therefore, he was taking his work, all of it, and going home. Which left them without art for their entire daily calendar series for December. Hinze snapped his fingers, and every one of his moving photographs flew from their location in the art department files or on layouts, shrank in size and disappeared into the inside pocket of his cerise coat. When Draco told him if he tried to take magazine property they’d sue, the little pile of hippogriff dung responded Draco should read his contract and swanned out the door like a prima ballerina. Draco did indeed then read Hinze’s contract with growing horror, and now he was determined to find out just what the hell his partner was thinking. As he stormed down the hall leading to the outer office of the editor in chief, he saw her assistant’s eyes widen. She stood up behind her desk and held out her hand, silently beseeching. He noticed her lovely bronze wool ankle length skirt and white shirt waist, her hair up in a simple French twist. As the first person most people saw at Sorci¨¨re’s office, she was doing her job of displaying the current Edwardian vibe. Draco approved even as he kept walking, determined to get through the main office doors.”Mr Malfoy, please; she’s on a very important call,” Angela, the assistant, said quickly.”I don’t care if she’s talking to the bloody queen,” he said through clenched teeth. She tottered out from behind the pretentious desk in her silly little ribbon closed kitten heels and tried to stop him with her tiny body. He did stop, but he put his hands on his hips and looked down at her. “Angie, get out of my way.””Mr Malfoy, please,” she did everything but hold her hands up in a posture of prayer, “she’s really not in the mood, and you know how she gets.”He looked at her incredulously. “Do I look to be in the mood for this little display right now?””No, not really. But I’m counting on the memory of the manners your mother taught you when you were just a little pure blood to prevent you from knocking me on my arse.”Draco looked into her wide brown eyes and gave in to his desire to laugh. She looked momentarily hopeful, but he slowly shook his head. “I will do what I can to save you,” he said with a slight smile. “You might want to hide, just in case.” He took her upper arms in his hands, picked her up and moved her neatly out of his way. “Oh, gods,” she whimpered as he passed her, rushing back around her desk. By the time she’d swept up the receiver and pressed a button on the phone, Draco was already through the floor to ceiling mahogany doors.”Parkinson,” he snapped. “What the actual fuck did you say to Simon?”Pansy Parkinson looked up at him from beneath thick false eye lashes. Her feet were propped on a lavish inlaid Victorian desk, white lace up leather boots crossed at the ankle. She was wearing a very sweet white tea length morning dress, the handmade lace see-through from the thighs down, leaving a lovely expanse of shapely leg visible. Her mink brown hair was cut in a sleek bob that brushed her chin, and her lips were painted blood red and matched her short, tapered nails. She was beautiful, and she knew it. She was holding her phone to her mouth, and she lifted her index finger in the universal ‘hold please’ motion. Draco rolled his eyes. “You know I’m not buying this for a second,” he said dryly. “I was in the outer office when Angie buzzed you.”Pausing for a moment, Pansy finally exhaled and put the sleek mobile down on her desk. “In regards to the bitchy little queen,” she said archly, “I told him that as Editor in Chief of Sorci¨¨re, I reserved the right to tell him his work had turned to shit and he was sacked.”Draco stared at her incredulously. “Well, that’s just dandy, Pans. But if sacking him was even a possibility, why did you sign a contract with him saying, basically, that we never had the right to sack him?”His voice rose on each word, and by the end he was nearly shouting. When she waved her hand dismissively, he feared his head might explode. “Oh, Draco. You know I don’t fuss with things like that. That’s the job of legal.””Yes, our vaunted legal department, all of whom are currently breathing into paper bags and trying not to expire.”She let her feet fall heavily to the floor. “Well, in candor, Draco, when we hired him, we were still publishing out of my spare room and he was the only photographer willing to come on full time.”Draco had not agreed to come on at the magazine until Pansy had been able to pay him a living wage, which had been a couple of years after the debut issue. Simon had already been a fixture when Draco became Art Director. “So, who wrote the bit of brilliance I just pulled out of Simon’s personnel file?”She rested her elbow on her desk and her chin on her hand. “Blaise. He was in law school at the time.”Draco exhaled heavily and dropped into the chair in front of her desk. “Merlin.” He rubbed his hands roughly over his face. “Pansy, you do understand that by sacking him, you’ve left us without art for the Twenty-five days of Christmas.”She grimaced. “I hadn’t really thought about it.”He shook his head incredulously. “You hadn’t thought about our best sales season of the year, when we get more subscriptions and outside links than any other time.””Yes, Draco,” she snapped. “I understand. I fucked up. But you should see these photos. Wait.” She reached down and he heard her unlock the file drawer in her desk. “Ah ha! The dim little shit. He never could get past my wards.” She pulled a file from the desk and laid it on her inlaid desk-top, spreading out several eight by ten moving color photos. Draco leaned forward and looked at them. It only took him about twenty seconds to see why Pansy had lost her mind and fired him. The photos were awful, utterly unlike their usual aesthetic. Sorci¨¨re was the glossiest of glossy fashion mags. Even unapologetically commercial displays ¨C weren’t. Especially during the Yule season. But these photographs bordered on ugly. They looked thrown together, the lighting too harsh, the colors too glaring. Draco shuffled through them. “Gods, I could have done better than this with my mobile in the aisle of a Muggle grocery.” Pansy made a ‘you see’ hand gesture. “Yes darling,” Draco sighed. “I understand why you lost your shit, but that still doesn’t solve the problem of no art for Yule.””Ah ha! I may have a solution!”Draco arched a brow. “Seriously? You know of a quality photog sitting around holding his prick during the busiest part of the sales calendar?”She made a face. “Vivid, yet unnecessary.” She shifted through several of their competitor’s publications on the corner of her desk and pulled one over in front of her, opening the magazine to a page marked with a bright pink post it. She studied the moving picture on the page for several moments, then turned it and pushed it toward Draco.He leaned forward, and what he saw made him catch his breath. The top half of the page was so dark a blue it looked black, the bottom half fluffy white snowflakes that looked as if they’d been sprinkled with diamond dust glitter. As he watched, two flakes drifted down, twirling slowly, one to lay flat on the snow, the other landing gently sitting straight up, the hundreds of gleaming connecting strands of ice constructing the unique pattern of the snowflake. It was a beautiful photo. He watched it three times before he spoke.”This is gorgeous,” Draco said, lifting his eyes to hers. “But how do we find out who took it? You also understand that they probably aren’t available.””Well, I don’t know about availability,” Pansy said with a small smirk that made Draco even more suspicious about Simon’s sudden departure. “But I still have friends at Witch Weekly,” where she’d worked for eight years before branching out on her own, “and I found out the name of the photographer.” She pulled a business card out of the magazine and flipped it across the desk, into Draco’s hand. It was a tasteful card, as business cards went. Black Times Roman script on heavy ecru card stock. It read Evan Peverell, and beneath that simply ‘Magical Photographer’. In the lower right-hand corner was a mobile number. Draco felt a rush of tingling surprise down his spine. Peverell? he thought. Seriously? One of the founding member families of the wizarding ‘sacred twenty-eight’, the three Peverell brothers had been rumored to have at one time possessed all three of the ‘Deathly Hallows’; the Resurrection Stone, the Cloak of Invisibility and the Elder Wand. There had been a lot of whispering amongst the Death Eaters about Voldemort’s search for the Hallows near the end of the war, but Draco never believed they existed; he’d just thought it another indication that the ‘Dark Lord’ had gone batshit crazy. The story was in a children’s book of fairy tales, after all. There were a lot of rubbish stories associated with the Deathly Hallows. He’d just assumed this was another one.”Peverell?” he said, frowning, flicking the card with his thumb nail. “I thought they were all dead.”She gave him a slow saucy grin he didn’t trust for a moment. “Only one way to find out.”Draco narrowed his eyes.

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