Normality

Draco Sebastian Malfoy was bored.

After two and a half years of roaming around the world living it rough, returning to boring, drizzly England was the last thing on his agenda. Not to mention that it seemed to have become more unbearable during the time he was gone.

Sighing as he glanced out the window of his modern London apartment, Draco's thoughts were only distracted briefly when a woman in a red dress strolled past, swinging her hips all the way down the street. Draco leaned out further, trying to get a better view.

That´s it... a little to the left, little bit, little bit more, just one more-

"DRACO!" cried the voice of his father, Lucius Malfoy angrily. "Why the hell are you leering like a fourteen year old school boy? You're twenty-six for Christ´s sake. Grow up, son!"

Turning irritated to face his father, Draco sneered before replying cuttingly, "Not much else to do in this Godforsaken hellhole."

Draco meant it too. After three weeks of trying to adjust to back his homeland, Draco was hopelessly and tragically bored.

He had tried everything, from journalism to *gasp* mini putt-putt golf. Nothing could satisfy his need for adventure, not even getting stuck in tunnel seventeen whilst searching for his strategically colored yellow (easy to cheat with...) golf ball.

He supposed he needed a challenge... something else to blow his inheritance on, but once one had endured backpacking across Europe, using holes in the ground to relieve himself and tasting mangy cafeteria-type food, it was hard to find even a hint of something more adventurous.

Turning his attention back to his father, who was now discussing the importance of securing a good business before 'those Mudbloods', as he so fondly called them, stole the business world entirely. Draco snapped back into a firm reality at the words, "So you see Draco, why it is so important for you to own a business."

"Pardon?" Draco asked with one eyebrow delicately arched.

"Draco, for God's sake! Half the problem is that you're so caught up in your own dream world. This is your future we are discussing... What is said in this room could well make you or break you," Lucius half-threatened,

"I don´t understand the significance of me being either made or broken in relation to my future," Draco responded airly,

"And why the hell not?" Lucius exploded, put out entirely by his son´s lackadaisical response to his veiled threat. The Draco he knew before would have risen to his bait without so much as a thought.

Draco had always had a rather give and, well, give a little more, relationship with his father. When he was a young boy at Hogwarts he had always considered his father right- an attitude that had only managed to falter during the last few years.

"Daddy-dear, I think you´re looking over the slight issues of my four million galleon inheritance," Draco sunk down into his chair, slamming his hands down on the arms of the chair for that extra dramatic affect.

"Draco," Lucius said low and dangerously. "I think it may have slipped your attention, but please do try to remember who exactly has control over your inheritance."

Draco didn't like the look that had come into Lucius' eyes.

"Father..." he trailed off cautiously.

Lucius stalked around the room muttering under his breath. Draco picked up words such as "Grow up" and "trust fund." It wasn't until he distinctly heard Lucius mention "cut it off" that he got really worried though.

"Are you ill?" he asked, desperately hoping that it was some kind of mind-altering fever.

"Never better," answered Lucius smirking evilly as he strode out of the room.

"Why do I have such a bad feeling about this?" Draco said under his breath.

* * * * *

It was a very agitated Ginny who strode down the steps of 'Spellbound' that evening.

Her last hours at work were no better than the first; Ginny was sick to death of everyone and everything... no exceptions. Usually she took great delight in the brief walk back to her apartment; the shops were on the brink of closing with the unmistakable smell of magic haunting the air.

She was pulled from her thoughts as she past the restaurant where she had worked for a couple of years after finishing school. The owner, a chubby, likable man named Julius Slingter was outside carefully lifting up a broad sign that pronounced 'closed'. Upon seeing Ginny, he called out in his Scottish traced accent,

"It ain't...Why it is! Com'over here me lassie, give your old boss Julius a kiss, eh?"

Ginny pasted a smile on her face, good humor slowly returning.

"Hello Juls. How´s the restaurant going?"

"Same old... same old," he said, shrugging his massive shoulders. "An´ the traveling business? Though, I 'spose it never changes."

Ginny sighed heavily thinking how very wrong he was. After suffering many more minutes of stilted small talk, Ginny excused herself with the unoriginal excuse that she had somebody very important waiting for her. If Julius could see through her pitiful excuse, he said nothing, offering her a kiss on the cheek.

He called out, "Well a good day to ya, Lass," before retreating into the warmth of his shop.

Scuffling her feet as she passed the large park outside her apartment building, Ginny mustered up her courage to face Clarissa at this time in the afternoon. It was especially daunting as Ginny could only assume that Clarissa had had her cup of coffee already. Coffee and Clarissa was an ill-matched pair.

Ginny made her way to the stairs after stepping inside the heavy glass doors halting the winter wind from howling through the corridors.

Their apartment was on the second highest floor. With brief inner turmoil, she judged herself to be lazy and promptly Apparated to the top of the stairs. Ginny walked down the dreary magenta (it stuck Ginny as odd that such a bright color could be reduced to dreary) corridor to the apartment and fumbled with the keys.

Through the narrow corridor leading to the living area, Ginny wondered where Clarissa was. Usually by this time of the night, she would be practicing Karaoke with her toothbrush or trying to swing dance with a broom.

Cautiously stepping into the blue lounge room, Ginny let out a sigh of relief to see Clarissa spread out across the couch, fast asleep. Ginny guessed that being woken up by a rouge alarm clock twice in two days was enough to make anyone who was not used to such precarious hours sleepy.

Tiptoeing quietly through the lounge, she rummaged through the icebox until she came across the iced coffee she had been saving for such an occasion as this. Grabbing the bottle firmly, she made her way down the darkened corridor next to the kitchen, and walked into her small bedroom. It overlooked the park and Ginny had long ago painted it a pale yellow to match the sun, which constantly seemed to shine through the windows. In one corner was a queen-sized bed covered with the frilly white covers Molly Weasley had given her for her twenty-fifth birthday last year. Ginny briefly wondered what home wear monstrosity she would be presented with this year.

Sitting down at the white painted wooden vanity that faced opposite to her wardrobe, Ginny stared hard into the mirror trying hard to match her freckles into star signs.

"Mirror, mirror on the wall...whose screwed up the most of all?"

Turning towards the mirror, she picked up the wooden hairbrush, and started to brush her reddish mane viciously, punishing her hair for her weaknesses.

When Ginny was satisfied, she threw down the brush and flopped onto her bed. Staring up at the ceiling, she began to count the glowing stars adorning the darkened ceiling. They were an early birthday present from the twins.

Ginny was unsure how long she spent counting stars and naming the ones she dubbed as special, but when she dragged her eyes away to glance at her watch she was amazed to discover that she was expected at Roger's in under an hour.

Ginny had no idea what was happening with good 'ole Roger at the moment. She had received very few letters since he had gone traveling off to China- In fact the Grand total in all those months, was about 2 letters. If Roger wasn't such a boring person, Ginny may have assumed he had enjoyed an affair.

Going to his house for Dinner wouldn´t be easy. Ginny had always found it hard to talk to people that she hadn't seen for large amounts of time. Especially a specific boyfriend she wasn't even sure how she felt about anymore....

But Ginny would not think about that.

Shoving herself up from the bed, Ginny ignored the bright red spots that danced through her eyes and made her way lazily to the bathroom.

* * * * *

Draco waited staring at the door for what seemed like hours. He had seen the look on his father´s face... the look that meant business.

Closing his eyes, and holding his glass of brandy against his forehead, every worse case scenario ran through Draco's mind.

The last time his father had looked like that Draco had been forced to enter a 'survivor course': six days of living off the wilderness, avoiding Dragons and generally starving... all because his father thought him soft. Of course, eventually Draco had begun to enjoy himself. To his complete and utter surprise, sleeping under the stars had turned out to be his cup of tea... that unexpected revelation had prompted him to start his world traveling expedition.

A sudden flash of memory broke through a shadowed area of his mind:

It was in a sleazy nightclub set in the depths of the Vietnamese dregs of society. Draco had never felt so far from home as he passed through the hazy, dark room filled with pole dancing exotic beauties. Of course, to Draco this couldn't really be described as a bad feeling. In fact, this was the moment he had dreamed of his entire life. He felt bad... a rebellious son lead into temptation.

Drinking. Booze. Gambling. Prostitution. It was the exact setting that any young millionaire would take advantage of. Feeling a hand settle on his shoulder, Draco turned around only to be confronted with a pair of dark liquid eyes.

"Feeling lucky, mister."

Her English was good, only holding a trace of a Vietnamese accent.

"Depends. Where is my luck coming from?"

She smirked, the gesture managed to enthrall Draco completely.

"Anywhere you want... if you can pay for it."

Tossing her long mane of dark hair and winking cheekily at him, she strode through the crowd. Her actions were not lost on Draco as he gazed after her, feeling as if his heart could burst.

Taking a deep swig of his brandy, Draco shook his head furiously as though he could rid himself of these thoughts by doing so. Sighing, he stared glumly at his desk. He had assumed he had dismissed these thoughts. He thought he had banished them from his very existence. It seemed the past was taunting him, making him remember events that were so much better forgotten.

"Will you forget me?"

Eyes wide, sheets tangled, atmosphere wild, unforgiving yet unforgotten.

"Never."

Slamming his glass down onto the table, Draco counted to ten slowly. He would not think of her again.

* * * * *

Lucius Malfoy was very clever.

He had to be. Escaping accusations of being a Death Eater twice was no easy feat.

Of course, people had protested. That nasty little brat, Harry Potter, even went as far as to lodge an official testimony. Luckily, the minister at the time, Cornelius Fudge was so short sighted and naïve that he declared Lucius, his precious payroll provider, completely innocent. Poor Harry was apparently just delusional.

Everyday Lucius thanked Rita Skeeter.

Now all he had to contend with was his own son- and gee, wasn't that easy. It was made worse by the fact Draco was getting weak. What sort of a man married a- well Lucius couldn't even begin to comprehend his daughter-in-law. Not only that, but since his return to England Draco hadn't even begun to search for a new Job.

He expects to live off my charity-just like that? No-go Son.

If there was one thing Lucius was good at, it was solving a tough problem- in the most, well, encouraging way as possible.

Turning his attention back toward the sheet of parchment spread out in front him; he made sure everything was in order for the third time. He waved away the emergency owl from Gringotts impatiently; it had done its job. Draco wasn't going to know what had hit him.

Oh yes...Lucius was very clever.

* * * * *

"Well? How do I look?"

Ginny tapped her foot impatiently, waiting for a sleepy Clarissa to give her an answer.

"Umm...Great, I guess."

Clarissa yawned widely, showing in every way possible that Ginny could have been the Queen and she wouldn't have cared.

It was about half-an-hour after Ginny had struggled off her bed, and Clarissa was lounging on their cushy, blue sofa, blatantly ignoring Ginny.

Ginny was stating to get annoyed. She had worked hard on her appearance tonight. Roger had owled a Dress in to her, a plain, black strapless with an elegant black bag. He had also attached a note politely asking her if she could possibly wear her hair up that evening...

"Not that I dislike it down Darling," The note had continued, "Its just I have a couple of very importantcolleagues around tonight- and their wives. I want us to make a very good impression, and your hair down looks lovely- just not the look I think is suitable."

Ginny had been almost offended by the note. Eventually though, she had admitted defeat. It was Roger's party and he had been good enough to invite her...

Actually no- he had a right to invite me. I'm only his girlfriend, for christsake!

Sighing heavily, Ginny turned her attention back to Clarrisa is a last single attempt at winning her good approval.

"Look. I just want to know a single question. Roger has important people over for dinner tonight. I need to look smart, sassy... someone who he will be proud to say is his girlfriend."

This possibly wasn´t the best thing to say to someone who walked around wearing t-shirts pronouncing 'Men are bigoted and Women deserve equal Wizarding Rights.´

Clarissa immediately sat up straight, suppressed anger burning in her eyes. Actually, Clarissa was the type who never really suppressed anything- that might have been why she had now decided to take a rather impressive verbal swing at Ginny.

"If that´s the only reason you're trying to look nice, well then I guess you look nice, but do you feel nice? Because on the inside you look like shit. Don't you want to look nice for Roger because you love him? Or is it all about appearances for you, Ginny Weasley."

Ginny looked at Clarissa wide-eyed. That had been completely unexpected and had obviously been bottled up for quite some time. The worst of it was that Clarissa was actually made sense.

"You see here Clarissa Manchest-"

"No you see here," Clarissa cut in. "For months I've seen you mope around the flat because of that creep. If he's not somewhere like Timbuktu researching some crap about a dead lady´s uncle's sister who has an obsession with the wood in wands, he's busy ordering you what to wear. What do you want with this guy? He's taken so much from you... what´s your return?"

"Nothing alright!" Ginny shouted in defeat, her voice breaking slightly. She turned away before Clarissa could notice the tears rolling down her face. She had no desire to stay around, with Clarissa looking so viciously into her soul. Not bothering to say goodbye, she struggled towards the door and ripped it open.

It wasn't until she was outside, back against the door that she relented to her emotions.

"I want nothing," she murmured quietly, the tears still wet on her cheeks. "He has given me my security."

She then took out her hand mirror and fixed up her makeup. She smiled into the mirror, slightly puffy eyed, but still the image of the girlfriend Roger was to keen to show off.

"I need no more," she said before bringing out her wand and Apparating.

* * * * *

The party was everything Ginny had expected it to be: boring, stuffy and filled with people that fitted the exact description of both qualities.

She flittered around in her little black dress, checking all the guests had enough champagne and nibbles, or that 'so and sob´s' husband wasn't cheating on thingy-ma-bob.

Ginny was seriously contemplating suicide with a corn chip.

Instead, she offered the very same corn chip to an elderly looking couple, who smilingly introduced themselves as Mr. and Mrs. Joseph Abbot.

"So what business are you in dear?" asked Mrs. Abbot smiling.

"Uh, The Travel Industry..." Ginny replied with a very forced smile on her face.

"Really!" asked Mrs. Abbot, placing a conspiratorial hand on Ginny's arm. "My daughter was going to get into that after she finished school...In the end she backed out though...I heard the pay was simply atrocious!"

She then let out a light tinkling laugh, which Ginny tried with all her strength (not much left now) to match.

Well actually, if you want you can humiliate me horribly and insult my work- only if you want of course.

A silence fell over the conversation. Ginny tried hard to break it by saying in a tight voice, "Yes, uh, well...How old is your daughter."

"Well, I think she's a couple of years younger than you, dear!"

"Yes?" Ginny asked, enthusiastic to rekindle the conversation, Roger would be thrilled. "What year did she graduate from Hogwarts? She did go to Hogwarts didn't she?"

"Yes dear- we wouldn't have settled for any less! Hmmm... Lets see. Hannah graduated the year after Mitch, which means..." after thinking for a while she grabbed her silent husbands arm and began to tug. "Dear, what year did Hannah graduate?"

Ginny was starting to piece together the pieces of the puzzle- the name Hannah Abbot was unsettlingly familiar...

"That´s it!" said Mrs. Abbot suddenly, grabbing Ginny's attention again. "I really can't remember dear, I have 4 children you know- very hard to keep up with. But if you graduated a few years before Hannah, then I'm sure we can piece it together! Oh, a puzzle!" she grabbed her unfortunate husbands arm again. "How absolutely fun!"

"Swell!" said Ginny, mouth trembling.

"Now, Hannah is twenty-nine- wait? Is she twenty-nine, dear?"

"No, she's twenty-eight, remember? Always old for her grade."

"That´s it! So if Hannah is twenty-eight, and you graduated a few years before- how old are you Virginia dear?"

"Twenty-five," said Ginny miserably. She had no idea she could pass for thirty, and like any modern young woman, she was absolutely terrified of that particular age.

Dear God- please don´t tell me I'm 26 in a matter of days.

Mrs. and Mr. Abbot looked mortified. Mr. Abbot decided to rescue his unfortunate wife, by exclaiming in a false happy sort of tone, "Look, Dear. If I'm not mistaken the Turpins are over there. Don't you have to talk to Mrs. Turpin about, uh, cards?"

"Don't be silly dear, Mrs. Turpin doesn´t even play cards- OUCH!" Mr. Abbot had kicked her rather obviously in the shin. Catching on, she replied in a loud voice, "Oh! That Mrs. Turpin-yes, uh, she had to show...Mrs. Turpin! Oh Mrs. Turpin dear! Excuse me Gwen..."

"Its Ginny..." she said quietly as they bustled away. She had to get out of this god-forsaken room.

Struggling through the crowds, she ignored the little shrieks of artificially done-up ladies as their chardonnays went flying. Truthfully, she didn´t care how many feathers she ruffled, being in that room was slowly suffocating her.

Stepping out onto the balcony, a cool breeze hit her face harshly. She glanced down at her small cocktail dress, instantly regretting her choice. Actually, to be fair, she would have to say 'Roger´s choice.'

All night she had been catering to his every whim. In front of his business mates she said she had been longing for a beer, however, when she excused herself to get one, Roger had asked her very impatiently if she had actually meant to say she wanted wine.

Fidgeting, Ginny stared out at the stars... she was unsure if she could keep up this charade any longer. With that thought came a sudden memory flash.

"Tom? Tom? Why are you doing this to me?"

"Shut up little girl... it will all be over soon. I think death will suit you."

"Please...leave-"

"I said shut your mouth or I may just have to kill you sooner."

"No... Please..."

Her voice was very small. He could feel her fears, and he was feeding on her weakness.

The memory went as quickly as it had come, leaving Ginny wide-eyed and dismissing any thoughts of leaving Roger. He was her security... her normality. She could not, and would not, give that up.

"Virginia, darling," A sophisticated voice sounded behind her.

Ginny turned around to see Roger standing in the doorway. He looked extremely handsome in his dark blue dress robes, brown hair swept back from his face. Ginny supposed he thought so as well. Taking a part veela to a ball once had boosted his ego for life.

"What is it Roger?"

"Why aren't you inside flattering my guests? Ginny, sweetie...you know business deals don't come out of thin air!"

"Why don't you flatter your own guests for God's sake," Ginny had snapped back before even realizing what she was doing. It looked like her rebelliousness wasn't just confined to the work place.

He took a step closer to her, obviously realizing his mistake. "I know I should, but you do it so much better..."

Ginny looked at him in disgust. She wasn't exactly sure where he thought flattery would take him.

"See... they don't want to be propositioned by a boring old 30 year old. They want youth. A young redheaded temptress would just seal the deal."

He obviously thought himself charming. Ginny felt as if she would vomit at any chosen moment. He almost made her sound like a prostitute. She took a step back, only to have him corner her against a balcony rail. He leaned forward and whispered into her ear,

"And I can't say that I would say no to that same temptress."

Personal space, buddy. Ginny was thinking, although she turned to him and said neutrally,

"Uh... really?"

"Truthfully..." he said leaning in a planting a sloppy wet kiss on Ginny´s mouth.

Ugh... Finally, Ginny managed to push him off her, scowling at him. Now he was treating her like a prostitute! It wouldn't be right now anyway- not even including the fact, that he had left her alone for so many weeks...then he expected to just return and use her anyway he seemed fit! He had some nerve.

"Not here, Roger," she hissed. "You have guests."

It was the second feeble excuse she had spun that very same day, but Roger seemed to buy it.

"Oh Ginny...you are so very modest. We'll see if I can unravel you one day, eh?"

Not in your dreams...

"Well, uh, let´s go inside then."

"Certainly my dear lady..." replied Roger offering her his arm.

As they entered the room, Ginny tried to work out her feelings for Roger. When they had started dating, everything had been fine, not wonderful but enough to stay together. He was away for such long sections of the year that, truthfully, it was hard for Ginny to ever figure out what was going on. She wondered why this time she was so irritated with him. Maybe it was just because she was still upset about her job.

Sighing, she grabbed a glass of wine off the nearest tray. She pretty much sculled it down, earning herself an amused look from the waiter.

"So did I tell you about the cauldron's yet!" asked Roger as another waiter walked past.

"No honey!" said Ginny smiling as she grabbed a shot of vodka. "Go right ahead though..."

Here's to you Normality...thought Ginny, as she knocked it back. Here's to you.

* * * * *

Meanwhile on the other side of London, in Draco's suburban flat, a very different confrontation was taking place.

Lucius Malfoy had returned.

He had seated Draco across from him, and was now staring at him intently, a smirk itching to come across his face. All Draco wanted to do was reached over and poke him or something. That would stop that bloody smirk... Please God; don't tell me my smirk looks even remotely like that.

"Now Draco," His father said, cutting through Draco´s thoughts. "We both know that you´re getting a little, well... irresponsible."

"I beg your pardon!" Draco said in an outraged sort of voice. "I am not irresponsible, thank you very much. I even do my own shopping! You go look in the `fridge. Correct me if I´m wrong, but isn´t there fresh milk in there!"

"Yes, yes," said Lucius looking very bored as Draco started to list his weekly shopping list.

"I even buy the cheese-" Draco suddenly looked up and noticed Lucius' apparent boredom.

"You aren't listening to a word I say, are you?"

"No," Lucius answered and cleared his throat, raising an eyebrow. "I've decided to cut off your inheritance." He said simply without blinking an eye.

"Oh Ok, really...WHAT!" Draco began to stutter and wave his hands around wildly. He had no idea what he had been expecting, but it certainly wasn´t that!

"Calm down, boy," said Lucius, greatly enjoying his son making a complete fool of himself. "I´m not cutting it off permanently."

"Well that´s a relief... Now I only have to live FIVE YEARS OR SO COMPLETLEY BROKE!"

"Oh, I'm sure it won´t be nearly that long...Maybe only four and three quarter years."

Draco regained his composure enough to ask in an icy cool tone, "And why this sudden urge to completely destroy my life?"

"As I said before, you, Draco, are irresponsible. I want you to take up a business somewhere and settle down. The time has passed where you can be a millionaire without working. You need the discipline."

"But, father, I've already done what you asked me to do! Has it slipped your mind already, the four long years I spent as a manager in your watch company chain?"

Lucius impatiently checked his watch. Draco was taking this harder than expected.

"Draco, I know that. After you finished school, I thought you had a great future ahead of you. I was willing to support you... give you that company on a gold platter, but instead you go gallivanting off around the world..." Lucius paused and rose throwing his hands in the air, "And then, get married! Of all things Draco...why that?"

"Don´t mention my wife," Draco said teeth gritted. "Of all things, do not taunt me with that."

"You see, Draco? You need something... something to build your life up again. This time I'm not going to help you."

"How am I even supposed to start a business if you plan on disconnecting me from all my money?"

"Your grandfather left you a large business account. You will use that, to any way you see fit. Once I have decided that you are running a successful business and making a substantial profit, I shall hand you back your key. Any questions?"

He said the last sentence in a deadly voice. Draco knew even if he did have some, they would not be answered. He glowered at the injustice of it all. It was true. He had spent four years in a sweaty, ugly factory making sure things went smoothly. Lucius should have been pleased with him... not suddenly cutting off the one thing in his life Draco was certain about. It was absurd!

Knowing that he had no escape, he handed his father the golden key, his lifeline. In return, his father handed him a small bronze key, the key to his new business account.

"Thank you, Draco," said Lucius meanly. "And good luck."

Lucius stood and left the room.

Draco was unsure on what to do next. Finally, he grabbed The Daily Prophet off the kitchen table and flipped through to the back, to the employment section. He ran a finger down the page, reading each heading slowly under his breath before, suddenly; he found what he was looking for.

Tearing it out, he turned quickly towards the fireplace and conjured up a blue flame. Chucking in a handful of floo powder from the small jar, stored atop the mantle, he chucked it in and waited for the flames to turn green.

"Job Express, please," he called into the flames. After a brief wait, a pretty, blonde head appeared in the fire.

"Hello, Job Express, Employment section. How can I help you?"

"I would like to make an appointment... does tomorrow suit you?" Draco mumbled, wishing he were in a pub.

Later,he assured himself. Later.