Behind the Hidden Door

Summary: I am (not) shallow. I am (not) small. I am (not) a Veela. I am (not) 'the pretty one.' I am (not) special. I am (not) lucky. And I am (not) innocent even though I did (not) sleep with Teddy Lupin. I am just me, Victoire Weasley, and my life is full of lies and unbelievable truths.

For reference: Victoire is a sixth-year and Teddy is a seventh-year.

Prologue: To Make a Mistake

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All of my life. All of my damn life. They always say the same thing. They only see the outside. They don't look past it because they don't care. They don't give a shit. No one does.

"You're so beautiful Victoire – you're so special – you're so nice – you're so lucky."

But that's all appearance. I'm not the shallow ditsy girl, but they all see me as that. I've been labeled. From the moment I was born, I was labeled. It's not fair.

We live in such a prejudiced world that you would have to be blind not to see it. Yet somehow, no one sees it – except me.

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The drunken giggling. The inappropriate dancing. The party scene.

It's where I'm at – it's where I'm always at. I act my part well. I drink, I get out there and dance with random people who mean nothing to me. I act like I'm having fun. I act like it's what I live for. I act like it's my favorite thing in the world.

But it's not. It's never been, and it never will be.

"C'mon, V-hic-ictoire, h-have a-a-another d-drink," slurs Lana.

"I've already had three," I say, already beginning to feel slightly tipsy. I sit down on a bar stool.

"Have a-hic-nother! I've h-had f-f-five, or hic, m-maybe s-s-seven ..." she trails off, giggling.

To please her, I grab another cup and down it. The teachers don't know what happens once a month, in the Room of Requirement. At least 50 kids stuff themselves in here for a night of drinking and partying.

We have a test tomorrow in Defense Against the Dark Arts, but no one cares. No one ever cares.

I down another cup. I feel light-headed and care free. I know I'm pretty much drunk by now, but I don't care. If I'm drunk, I'll feel better. If I'm drunk, I'll enjoy the party. If I'm drunk, I won't worry about anything.

I down my sixth drink and stand up, swaying slightly.

"I'm gonna dance," I say giddily, looking for someone to dance with as another song starts.

"Who wants to dance?" I ask loudly, giggling. I'm making a fool out of myself, but I'm too far in to stop now. I walk around, very dizzily, and run into someone.

"S-sorry," I slur, giggling more, "D-d-dance w-hic-ith me?" I say, looking at the floor and moving my feet already, not at all in beat.

"Vic?" A voice asks, and I look up to see a slightly tipsy Teddy.

"Teddy!" I squeal, excited, and giggle even more. I pull at his hand. "Dance," I command. Since he is slightly drunk, he obliges.

After 10 minutes of dancing, we head back over to the bar. I sit down and hand him a beer, which he downs immediately. I drink another one.

The rest of the night is a blur. More dancing, more partying. Except that I wake up in the wrong dormitory. This could be bad. Very bad.

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A/N: Like? Dislike? Please review! Sorry it's short, but it's just the prologue.