What It's Like

Eyes impassive. Facial expressions emotionless. Shoulders back. Don't slouch. Chin up.

He was borne without the knowledge of this proper etiquette, but since those seventeen plus years, they've been burned and imprinted into the memory of his mind. Each morning, it's the same routine. Not one strand of silver-blonde hair out of place. His hair is always slicked back and his wave of arrogance hits you even when you're twenty feet away from him. He sneers nastily at you, smirking at your writhing figure.

You don't see past the obnoxious exterior to take a glimpse past that. Everyone believes that there's nothing there, just an empty space filled with nothingness. They all think that his chest is void of his heart. They don't know better. I'm his mother. I should know him better than that. No one understands the concept of having to be him.

None of them have ever experienced the pain of it all firsthand. He wasn't raised wit a silver spoon in his mouth. He was raised with an iron fist to his face or a blow to his stomach. I could never tend the broken bones and whatnots because of him. He made our lives like this. He wasn't always this cruel, mind you. He used to love us. He used to care. That's what made me so attracted to him in the first place. He was so tender. Everything changed when Draco turned one. That's when the storm hit.

Two of our prior schoolmates had birthed a baby boy. His name was Harry Potter. He would one day be a legend in the wizarding world. Even back then, we weren't too keen on the Potters. The Potter boy was a cute little thing, I must admit. He had raven black hair and bright green eyes that were filled with mirth and love. He was about ten months old by that time.

It was a windy night. A storm was brewing and rain splattered upon the windows of the Malfoy Manor. I sat on the dark brown leather sofa with my legs crossed evenly. A book was propped up on my thigh, but it never caught my attention. Lucius sat in front of me on the reclining black leather seat behind the mahogany desk, scribbling furiously onto the parchment before him. This was the night I dreaded most. Lucius' gray eyes reflected my own: filled with horror and trepidation. I knew what was to happen.

A small, almost silent hiss of pain passed his thin lips. The Dark Mark was burning. He swiftly rose from his seat and placed and chaste kiss on my cheek as a farewell. He apparated away. The Deatheaters would go hunting that night.

Hours passed. Draco slept silently in his well-furnished crib. His gray eyes were shielded from light. My own dark blue ones filled with tears. I never let them fall. Crying was a sign of weakness and I, Narcissa Black Malfoy, was not weak. A loud crash quickly brought me out of my reverie. I gracefully glided to Lucius' study to find him rampant and overturning various objects and furniture. I took time to study him. His lips were compressed into a firm line, filled with malevolence and his eyes radiated his anger. His pale skin took a turn for the worse, turning almost a crimson shade of red. His jawbone was set and clicking painfully. What could have caused this change in him?

He suddenly turned and saw me standing there, eyes questioning his motives. His breath was ragged and his eyes were completely bloodshot, something that I had missed.

“How?” was all he could say.

I had no idea what he was talking about and I wasn't about to press him for answers. His legs couldn't support him anymore and he tumbled to the ground in one rapid motion. I was immediately by his side. His large gray eyes looked up at me, filled with confusion and hate. I knew that it wasn't toward me, but from what had happened before.

“The Potter boy survived. Our Lord had performed the Killing curse upon that wretched boy and he survived! Our Lord was diminished in the palm of a baby!” he screamed.

I was astonished. I didn't like Voldemort, but I didn't know he was this pathetic. I had always led Lucius to believe I was a follower, but truth is, he was nothing but a folly. I had dated him back in our Hogwart days. He was four years older than I. Tom Riddle was the imagery of perfection until he decided that taking over the world was all there was to life. That was when I fell in love with Lucius. I knew Tom's plans were stupid, but this was just utterly horrendous.

Ever since then, Lucius had not been the same. He wanted Draco to be better than The Boy Who Lived. He wanted Draco to do something great to compensate for the mortifying loss of his master. I didn't want this to happen. When we sent him to Hogwarts, I was worried for him. He could hold his own, but it was only a mother's worry. Nothing too horrible happened. I sent his sweets, despite Lucius' protests. He thought Draco would become a nancy and turn soft or worse, a poof. I almost snorted in his face when he said that. I explained patiently that no child would become a poof from sweets. It was just that Draco had a sweet tooth and he would not be able to get much from his current dwelling. Lucius accepted my explanation and went on his way to go think of some torture for the mudbloods. Through the years, He became withdrawn and was always sullen. He was usually in foul moods. His temper was getting quite atrocious. I missed how he used to be. I missed the way of life we had shared before. I miss him.

(Author's Note: Any misspellings, I apologize profusely. I'm only thirteen and if this does not fit your fancy, don't read any further. I don't know if I should continue or not. It's up to you. I would appreciate necessary criticism and a rating that is deemed with your review. Saying this was juvenile or such does not live up to its expectations. I want reasons on why it was bad or what ever. You may do as you please.)

“Move, you twit!” Draco commanded.

The little girl's eyes widened in horror as she realized whom she had bumped into before taking off into the opposite direction. Draco smirked at her expression. He continued to glide slowly past each compartment.

“Get out of the way!” a voice ordered from behind him.

He turned around to face his opponent. All he saw was a shocking mop of red hair. It was the girl weasel.

“Are you deaf or just stupid? I said MOVE!” she yelled.

He cocked an eyebrow up at her audaciousness, but showing no other form of emotion beside faint amusement.

“You're not fit to even wipe my shoe, weasel, so don't try to order me around,” he drawled.

“Eat me,” she snarled before pushing past him and down a few doors before opening a compartment door.

She slammed it closed and plopped down next to her friends Colin Creevey and Luna Lovegood. They watched as she fumed. Colin was deathly afraid of this girl when she was angry. Luna was just watching her, not really seeing anything terrifying. Ginny's face was bright red and her hair was hazardous, even more so than her facial features.

“You okay, Gin?” he questioned cautiously.

“Just peachy,” she replied with an attitude.

“Okay,” he squeaked.

“Did you know that there were Rhinehorns in Kalawamaga?” Luna asked dreamily.

Ginny cocked an eyebrow disbelievingly at her friend. Even though she was in a foul mood, Luna always knew what to say, although Ginny never understood it. Luna made her feel as if nothing was real and everything was just some sort of demented abstract art. She made her laugh even when Luna was trying to explain something serious to her that Ginny felt was hilarious. Luna was just great to have around.

“Aren't Rhinehorns a myth?” Colin questioned.

“Just because you can't see them, doesn't mean they're not there. My father has seen a few of them,” she said haughtily.

“I'm sure,” Colin answered dryly.

“Guys! Can you believe that there's only two more years left of Hogwarts?” Ginny interrupted.

“Yeah. Only one more years of ferret-boy, too,” Colin grinned.

“Ferrets are known to have magical powers like blinding someone and throwing grenades,” Luna sighed airily.

Before Colin could make some witty remark, Ginny stepped on his foot to keep him from saying anything. Out of nowhere, Hermione's bushy head popped into their compartment.

“Get dressed, you guys. We're almost there,” she smiled.

She closed the door behind her. Ginny casted a temporary blinding spell at Colin like she did every year, which gave she and Luna time to get dressed into their robes. Once they were finished, Ginny lifted the spell and let him get dressed privately. The train suddenly came screeching to an abrupt halt. Ginny bounded out of her compartment just to crash into someone.

“I'm-“ she began.

The apology died on her lips once she saw the person she had run into. He was tall with unruly raven black hair and amethyst colored eyes that had a bit of blue around the pupil. This man was handsome. He looked like a description of someone from those romance novels she had been reading to pass time at home when everyone was out.

“Sorry,” she squeaked.

“It's quite all right. It's not very normal of me to bump into someone as stunning as you,” he smirked.

A crimson tide flushed into Ginny's pale face.

“I'm Zabini. Blaise Zabini. I presume you are the youngest of the Weasley clan, am I right?” he guessed.

“Yes,” she said.

“I hope to see you around,” he grinned roguishly.

She just nodded her head in confirmation, not trusting her voice to do anything but squeak while he walked away. When Luna sighed, she was brought out of her reverie.

“Can you move now?” Colin chuckled.

She blushed again and walked out to let her friends pass and stand beside her.

“You do know he's in Slytherin, right? He's in his 7^th year, too,” Colin informed her.

Ginny heard `Slytherin' and `7^th year', but she didn't care. The boy looked absolutely smashing.

(A/N: I know that it's short, but I can't think right now. I'll update soon, though. I hope.)

They were eventually seated in the Great Hall, waiting for the fickle first years to be sorted. A small prickle of anticipation coursed through her veins as she lingered upon the thought of Blaise Zabini. Suddenly, chills went up her spine, as if she were being watched. She lifted her head and saw that she was. It was Draco Malfoy. His eyes were filled with cold amusement and his thin red lips were curled in their usual sneering contempt. She smirked haughtily at him and flipped her hair enticingly. His pale eyes widened with shock. She chuckled softly to herself, pleased at the Slytherin's reaction.

“Gin. Are you flirting with Malfoy?” Colin frowned.

As usual, he was the casual observer, seeing things no one else did. Damn it all to hell. She faced him, even though her cheeks were flushed red for being caught red handed.

“No,” she lied unconvincingly.

He made a dismissive grunt and grinned at her.

“I wouldn't mind getting a piece of him if he weren't so straight,” he preened.

Ginny snorted at the thought. It was preposterous to ever think that Draco was gay. Then again, it was pretty hard to know now a days. Colin probably attracted more guys than she would in this lifetime and the next. It just wasn't fair.

“Blaise isn't looking too bad himself, either,” Colin commented.

It was a commonly known fact that Blaise went both ways and everyone knew it. Well, everyone except Ginny. She wasn't very updated with the new gossip and such. Colin, on the other hand…

“Gorgeous… Merlin, you're so lucky to have slammed right into him. It's a shame that it wasn't me,” he joked.

“He has a nice body from what I did feel. Very toned,” she noted devilishly.

“Lucky you,” he sighed dramatically.

They giggled as Dumbledore began his welcoming speech and Professor McGonagall sorted the students into their respected houses. There were 12 Gryffindors, 14 Slytherins, 11 Ravenclaws and 16 Hufflepuffs.

“Also, one more announcement. We have a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher this year. Let's welcome Professor Graves,” Dumbledore smiled with that ever-present twinkling in the abyss of his blue eyes.

Professor Graves had ruffled blue hair and sparkling hazel eyes. His features were defined. His nose was aristocratic and a bit big. His lips were full, but not too ostentatious. His skin was a bit wan, but it went well with him. His ears had a copious amount of piercings. He had that rough around the edges bad boy who brings his mum flowers look going. Instead of wearing a billowing black robe like everyone else, save Filch and his cat, he wore a black leather jacket, probably made out of dragon hide and a pair of black jeans. The girls were swooning and so were a few guys, but Ginny didn't notice. She just spared him a quick glance and went back to talking with Colin, who also didn't seem to notice. Murmurs of appreciation spread like forest fire. Steven Graves, however, had his gaze on the introverted redhead ever since she stepped into the room. She just had that aura around her. From his vantage point, she could probably be a fiery vixen, just waiting for the right person to unleash her desires. Unfortunately, she was also talking with the blonde boy next to her. Truthfully, Steven Graves was only about a year of two older than Ginny. He had just recently graduated Beauxbatons in France.

“So, Gin. Who will be my next conquest for the year? The boys you chose in the past years were too easy. Give me a challenge,” Colin grinned saucily.

Each year, Ginny would choose one or two guys, depending on Colin's seducing abilities, for Colin to tempt. He never stayed with any of them for long, though. Colin also chose guys for Ginny, but she never seemed to capture them.

“I think you should try Blaise this year,” she said thoughtfully.

He nodded in acquiescence. This would be an eventful year…

(A/N: I know it's short, but there are a few problems at home and stuff so yeah. Bear with me. Read and review!)

Ginny yawned obnoxiously at the Gryffindor table the next day. She had stayed up all night to finish her summer homework. Hermione had thoroughly admonished her. By the time she finished speaking, it was well into the night. She only had four hours of shuteye. This was not a good way to start off the year. Colin prodded her ribcage.

“What's wrong?” he asked worriedly.

“Tired,” she explained. “All `Mione's fault. `You should've finished your homework earlier like me because I'm so bloody perfect.' Oh please…”

Colin just laughed at her one-woman tirade.

“Merlin, she's so bloody annoying…”

Colin picked out a few choice pieces of bread and began to butter them, wondering to himself what they had first.

“I mean, she can't even keep her bloody gob shut!”

He hoped it wasn't Potions. Maybe it was Transfiguration.

“She keeps bloody talking and talking and talking like there's no tomorrow!”

He looked over to the Slytherin table. He saw Draco glance at Ginny and look back down at his food. He caught Blaise's eyes. Colin flushed to a crimson hue before promptly looking away.

“Am I right?”

Colin jilted and faced Ginny. Had she been talking all this time?

“Uh… Yeah,” he replied uneasily.

“Oh! Look! Blaise is looking right at you,” Ginny giggled.

If possible, Colin's face got even redder.

“Let's see if you can break your own personal record of three months,” she cajoled.

“Of course I can, but if I do, I can at least amuse myself by choosing someone out for you,” he grinned.

“Hey, go ahead. It won't be my fault if I don't get him,” she sniffed.

“I say we make a bet. Whoever gets their man first, gets to have first dibs on Viktor Krum's hat,” he said.

They had stolen his hat when he played in the tournament in her third year. It sat under the common room couch, where no one dared to venture. She and Colin had made friends with the dust bunnies and they kept the hat safe and dust free.

“Deal,” Ginny chuckled. “Who's my man?”

“Draco Malfoy,” he smiled devilishly.

“Are you bloody mad?” she whispered angrily. “That's not fair!”

“Yes it is! You gave me Blaise! It's only poetic justice,” he answered haughtily.

“Oh, you stupid sod! This is Malfoy we're talking about. My enemy. My brother's enemy. My family's enemy, for Merlin's sake!” she shrieked.

“Get over it, Gin. He's your conquest so make nice with him,” he guffawed.

“Fine I will! If I do get him, however, I also want something else,” she smirked.

“And what's that?” he cooed.

“Your broom,” was her simple reply.

“Fine. It's on,” he nodded.

Ginny shook his hand to seal the deal. He looked across the room again to find her gaze landing on her bet. He sneered at something Parkinson said before turning to meet her eyes. She froze.

“Did you finish your homework?” Hermione's shrill voice erupted.

Ginny winced, looking away from his gray depths.

“Yes, no thanks to you,” she snapped.

Hermione harrumphed and turned on her heel to go back to Ron and Harry. Ginny ignored them at all costs. The insufferable know-it-all, protective brother and the boy-who-wouldn't-expire routines were just getting old. Professor McGonagall walked around, giving the Gryffindor's their schedules.

“Yes! We have Defense Against the Dark Arts first period,” Colin beamed.

“I wonder what the new teacher's like. What was his name? Steve?” she frowned in concentration.

“Professor Steven Graves,” a husky voice emanated from behind her.

She jumped.

“Uh… oh. Uh… Hi. Sorry,” she sputtered.

“Aucun probleme, mademoiselle. I see you `ave my class first. See you there,” he winked.

Ginny's eyes widened to saucers. Being as dense as she was, she couldn't quite piece the puzzle together. Colin, however, could.

“Oooo-kay. What was that about?” she queried.

“Who cares. Your objective is Malfoy, not Professor Steven Graves,” he mocked.

She didn't even acknowledge him before going into the topic of Viktor Krum's hat.

(A/N: Aucun probleme, mademoiselle translates to No problem, mademoiselle. My French is a bit off seeing that I don't have a damn clue how to speak it. =) I hope it's not too horrendous. Plus, I'm on an update frenzy.)

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Ginny sat at her desk with something akin to boredom flashing through her eyes. She yawned behind her hand, hoping Professor Graves would just shut up. Colin nudged her ribcage irritatingly. She faced him with an expression that read, “What?” He pushed over a folded parchment. She carefully opened it.

This is so bloody boring. Are we going to the library fourth period? I need to get something.

Inconspicuously, she picked up her quill, dipped it in ink and began to write.

I can't understand what he's talking about. I also need a book. I-

All of a sudden, the parchment was snatched away into long, pale hands. The only thing Ginny thought was “Oh shit”. Professor Graves read it to himself, frowning. He began to curse fluently in French before going back to English.

“You vill `ave detention fourth period with me, Miss Weasley and Mister Creevey vill help me after dinner. Understood? Or am I speaking too quickly for you?” he sneered.

They both nodded nervously. It was bad enough to have detention on the first day, but on first period, too? Ginny was doing Fred and George proud. He turned, making his blue hair squirm. The girls in the class sighed as his cheeks flushed with anger. They thought it to be becoming of him.

By the end of the class, the Hufflepuffs lost 5 points while Gryffindor lost 15, partially due to Colin and Ginny.

“Merlin, that man is a horror,” Ginny griped when the class let out.

“Yes, but he's a striking horror,” Colin snickered.

Ginny rolled her eyes as Colin poked her stomach.

“What was that for?” she asked angrily.

“Your hat's right there,” he leered.

“What hat?” she questioned, looking around.

“Not literally, you twit. I'm talking about Malfoy,” he frowned.

“Oh. I knew that,” she replied.

“If you want the hat, you should get started on making ferret boy swoon,” Colin advised.

“Yeah, yeah. I know,” she sighed.

“Let me help you,” he smirked, as they got closer to him.

“I don't need your- Ah!” she shrieked as she tumbled onto the blond boy.

She expected to be vertical by now, but she was still standing. Kind of. Okay, she was holding on with a slanted position to the erect Malfoy, who was a bit irritated by now.

“Would you get off?” he grit out.

“Sorry,” she apologized, scrambling away.

She ran off, not even noticing that Draco bent down, which gave a pretty nice view of his arse, to pick something up. Her cheeks flamed with embarrassment at herself and anger at Colin, who had run away immediately. At least he took her bag with him. She stormed her way past students to Care of Magical Creatures with Hagrid.

“Colin!” she called out.

His ruffled flaxen head popped up from behind a tree. He giggled nervously, holding her bag a foot away from his body.

“You're so dead,” she glared at the mousy-faced boy.

She reached into her pocket to retrieve her wand to hex the offending lad into oblivion, but found that it wasn't there. Her eyes widened to saucers as she frantically stripped off her robe to check the pockets better.

“What did you do to my wand, you sodding bastard?” she yelled at Colin.

“N-Nothing. Honest!” he responded.

She charged at him to be halted by an outstretched arm. Her hatred filled eyes shot up to the person blocking her. It was Draco Malfoy.

“Missing something?” he queried, cocking his eyebrow up while twirling her wand between his long fingers.

She body relaxed as she held out her hand. He didn't give it back to her.

“Can I get my wand back now?” she asked with forced patience.

The Gryffindors and Slytherins watched the proceedings with curiosity.

“Meet me at the lake during lunch. I'll give it back to you then,” he whispered into her ear.

Ginny bit her tongue, counting to ten. Unfortunately, she only got to four before pouncing onto the unsuspecting man. Straddling him, she plucked her wand from his hand and got off, polishing it down with her chemise.

“Thanks, Malfoy,” she sneered.

Draco looked up at the petite redhead who was currently glaring at the Creevey midget spitefully. He congratulated her for her bravado as he brushed himself off and hurried past his housemates and various Gryffs to get to his next class. Mortification was not in his genetic make-up, but revenge was. Then again, so was passion and desire. His mind raced with memories. When that little chit had been running toward the mouse, her red hair splayed with anger and her eyes glowed with resentment. He loathed to admit, but she looked quite delicious. He shook his head, trying to rid himself of the Weasley thoughts. Alas, things didn't go as planned. Instead of them going away, he had imagined new ones. Explicit ones. Erotic ones. In the middle of a corridor, he slammed his head against a stone wall, instantaneously regretting his cursory decision.

He walked to Transfiguration with his head throbbing and a large bump smack dab in the middle of his forehead. He hadn't quite mastered to art of concealment yet. Bugger.

(A/N: This is just a chapter to kind of build up to the next. Yep.)

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“Oi! Malfoy! Wait up!” Ginny called out.

He stopped and turned to face the little fireball running toward him. He quirked up his brow and waited until he reached her.

“Yes?” he drawled.

“Hi,” she smiled genially.

He scrutinized her carefully.

“Out with it, Weaslette. You don't come up to me to say our formal niceties so you may as well come out with it already,” he stated.

He was right enough.

“I'm just saying hi, is all. Is that so formidable?”

Apparently.

“Yeah, you know. You Gryffs always come up to me to say hi,” he growled sarcastically.

“Alright, alright. I just wanted to apologize for being so snarky towards you this afternoon.”

“Are you on something, Weasley?”

She mumbled something that sounded eerily like `arsenic' before she shook her head.

“Well, if that's all. I'll be leaving.”

“Wait!”

He turned to face her.

“I was wondering if you'd like to meet at the lake during lunch anyway.”

She blushed to the root of her hair. He stood there, trying to decrypt her. He wanted to know if this was some sort of joke. Without another word, he turned on his heel and strode off.

“We'll see,” he called out over his shoulder.

She smiled. Things were going to be just fine.

**********

“Miss Weasley. You will help me by grading papers. Sit next to me,” Professor Graves ordered.

She did as she was told. She slung her bag over the arm of the chair and crossed her legs nervously, fiddling with the hem of her robe. He dropped a large stack of papers in front of her. She cursed her free period. It was a test that the third years had taken. He handed her a red quill and a pot of red ink and she went straight to work. He smiled because she needed no dictation.

An hour later, she stretched back lazily like a sensuous feline. He was mesmerized with the innocent sexuality she could emanate. After having been here for a day, he had been propositioned by various girls already and a few guys. He politely declined. It was simple. They just didn't have the grace that this red head did.

“You're dismissed.”

She nodded. She plucked up her bag and strolled idly to the lake where a lone figure was standing. She giggled to herself. He had shown up.

“You're late,” he murmured before she even reached him.

“I know. I'm sorry. I had detention,” she apologized.

“Well, sit down,” he motioned.

She did.

“Spill.”

“Okay. I have this proposition for you. I was wondering if you could pretend to be my boyfriend and I'll do your homework or something,” she blurted.

“Why? Just for shits and giggles? I don't think so. Give me a reason.”

“Well, me and my friend have this bet to see who can get their chosen guys first.”

“And I just happened to be yours, right?” he deducted.

“Right.”

“I'll do it on one condition and it's not homework.”

She gulped. “It's not?”

“Oh no, darling. If I'm willing to diminish my reputation to be seen with you, you have to do something just as well for me.”

“And that would be?”

“Sex, Weasley. Easy and simple.”

She choked. “What?”

“Sex. Fucking. Screwing Fornicating. Is any of this making sense?”

“I know what… what… sex is, Malfoy. I just wasn't planning on doing it with you as my first time.”

“Your call, Weasley.”

She bit her lip. She really, really wanted his broom and the hat. Was it worth giving up her virtues and morals for it?

“Deal.” Apparently it was.

“Good. Then we're at the same level. When will this little charade begin?”

“Today, I guess. We can just build it up, you know? Some kissing, talking… Things along those lines for the public. Otherwise, it's ultimately up to what fate acquires us to do.”

“Ah. And when will my end of the deal begin?”

“What do you mean by begin?”

“What? You thought it would just be once? Please. If you want this to be realistic, I don't think that I should be fucking anyone else.”

She understood his reasoning. Women talked.

“Fine. How about… during weekends?”

“Weekends, Fridays, Mondays and Wednesday nights.”

“Complete weekends, as in you never leave my bed unless I say and Fridays.”

She bit her lip.

“Okay.”

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I knew I shouldn't have touched it. This story is abandoned until further notice. Thank you for your consideration.

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