Already Draco had carried the dress over and was behind her, helping her step into it, guiding it up and over her hips, which he cupped between his palms like delicate globes made of glass. The stones tapped and scraped against the floor as it dragged. The dress was cold and hard against her bare skin, from the inside, despite the silk inner lining, it scratched her now and then when the fabric rippled and she felt the cuts well up underneath the stiff sheath of black fire. The gown slid up her breasts and encased them lovingly, she tried not to move since it felt uncomfortable and she wanted to spare herself getting cut there by the gown's bizarre design.