Disclaimer: I own nothing.

Summary: She does a very Muggle thing with very Muggle consequences.

Warning: Contains adult situations (i.e. drugs, language, sex).

Crystal Clear

I don't care how queer it sounds, nothing is better than a cold room with warm sheets. I rolled over under my luxurious comforter to lie on my chest. But if my mother wouldn't shut the fuck up soon, I would be forced to throw a fit.

How could I even hear her anyway? She only ever talks to people from the family room so they can see the life of luxury that we live. The family room is on the first floor. I'm on the third floor at the complete opposite end of the house.

I slowly sat up, determined to figure out what was wrong.

Ooh! Floor is cold. Floor is cold! Fuck it. I'm keeping the blanket.

I pulled my blanket back up around my shoulders and stepped on the end of it. I don't care if I look queer. I'm cold, and there's no one here to say anything about it anyway.

So I shuffled down the hall and managed to stay upright on the stairs; and when I got to the stairwell between the second and first floor, I could hear the conversation more clearly.

"Don't you know who I am?!" Mother screeched.

So shrill and so early in the morning too.

"I am Narcissa Malfoy! Daughter of Druella Rosier and Cygnus Black! My family is one of your oldest patrons! And I will not stand to be treated like some sort of poor mudblood!"

I couldn't hear the other person so I scooted further down the steps, the blanket keeping my feet silent.

"I'm afraid that there's nothing we can do. The ministry has put all of your funds on hold until the trail is over." The goblin from Gringotts sounded exhausted.

"And how much longer is that supposed to take?" Oh, she was mad, practically growling and whatnot.

"We're not sure, Mrs. Malfoy. It could be as soon as a few days –"

"Days?!" So very unbearably shrill.

"—or as long as a couple years."

"Years?" Seething in anger, probably foaming at the mouth.

And that's when it hit me.

We have no money.

I closed my eyes and tried not to panic. Father was always prepared. He stored a sizeable fortune hidden away in the basement behind that awful portrait of Granny. He hasn't even told mother about it. And he told me that if he was ever sentenced to Azkaban or died, then the money would appear in the chest behind that truly hideous painting (practically grotesque). Maybe that's why he never told Mother. She probably would have tried to have him killed or something.

I sat down on the step and tapped my fingers against my knee.

We could sell some old stuff. But we've been selling off stuff for years. Mother refuses to part with anything else.

"I will not accept this type of treatment!" Mother screeched.

We can kill Mother and hope the insurance will last until the end of the trial… Appealing.

"Mrs. Malfoy, the only thing we can suggest is that maybe you get a job, something temporary, just until this whole trial comes to an end."

"WHAT?!"

Looks like I won't be going to France this year.

The thought made me scowl.

Crystal Clear

Reginald Greengrass was a tall and imposing man with brown hair, a large mole under his left eye, and a distinct mustache that curled at the ends.

Man's a freak.

I sat across from him a vaguely uncomfortable chair, but I ignored it for the most part.

"And why would you like to work with us?" He asked in a droll manner that made me think he was already bored.

"Architecture is something that I've always been interested in; and considering that I will be graduating in the spring, I would like to have a substantial amount of work experience under my belt for a competitive advantage. And your company has always been in the forefront of architectural advances, so I know that this would be the best place for me learn."

He looked a bit impressed. After a few more questions, a few in-depth answers, and mentioning being friends and housemates with his daughter Daphne, he hired me on the spot.

I started work the following day, and I was thrust into a training seminar with three other people. The speaker continued to press the necessity of worker safety while teaching us several spells that involve expanding the building space on the inside rendering the actual size of the building unimportant.

It was surprisingly interesting; and I, of course, was more successful than the rest. (I shine in all aspects in my life as if I bathed in pixie dust.)

Crystal Clear

Work was interesting and going well. (I was working with Davy Gudgeon, who is legendary for those who don't know.) But while it was interesting, it was also pretty stressful. A fellow intern cast a spell wrong, and an entire building nearly collapsed in on itself. If it hadn't been for Mr. Gudgeon, a month's worth of work would have been lost. Thankfully, we've only been set back a week; but it's still a bit much.

So with no money to spend (as I need it for books and whatnot come fall) and no abundant free time, I went into my father's private quarters. I sauntered over to his private bathroom and pulled open the bottom drawer by his sink. I sat down, leaning against the wall opposite the drawer. I rifled through the magazines and settled on the one I liked the most. A sultry brunette with long wavy brown hair enticing me to touch her, feel her, fuck her. Of course, it was a magazine; so I couldn't do any of those things outside of caressing glossy paper.

I put the rest of the magazines back and headed towards my room with a bit more enthusiasm. I was feeling anxious, and "jerking off" always helped me relax. I should just keep it in my room, but I'm too terrified of Father finding out that I've gone through his things.

This magazine was different from the others. The others contained naked women dancing on poles, masturbating on beds, or kissing other girls. This magazine, though, was a bit more discreet. The women in this magazine were never fully nude, and they were dressed as Muggle workers like nurses and librarians.

It was the librarians that really got to me. Long sleeve button up shirts with the sleeves rolled to the elbow, buttoned up half way with just a hint of a bra showing. Knee length pencil skirts with long slits up the side. Hair twisted into tight buns with glasses sitting atop a pert nose. A stern look settled on a gorgeous face.

Of course, the centerfold certainly added interest as she held a strong resemblance to one of my classmates with wide brown eyes, wavy brown hair, a splash of freckles across a button nose, and a purse of pouty lips. The centerfold and Hermione Granger could have been sisters. And when ejaculation hit, it was easy to replace the nameless centerfold's face with Granger's.

Ever since third year when she slapped me, I've thought about her. At the time, I was pissed. But I kept thinking about it. Why didn't I slap her back? Why didn't I curse her 'til she was screaming in pain? Why didn't I grab her wrist to stop her? Why didn't I kiss her to mess with her head? It escalated from there.

And after the incident with her teeth, she was smiling almost all the time. And while I had caused the teeth incident, I was excited to realize that my actions had inadvertently made her happy. Her smile was so bright. I felt like I fell in love the first time she smiled at me… Well, in my direction at least. Ugh. Nearly four years later and I still feel like a lovesick puppy.