A Lifetime of Lies

Chapter Two

Reflections

He had come to her with the change of the season. She loved the feeling that came with the change of a season; there was a promise that hung in the winds of the upcoming fall. It was her sixth year and she had known absolutely everything. Things were simple, life had lines that were clearly marked and everything was written out in black and white.

There were certainties in life, guarantees. Harry would kill Voldemort, Dumbledore would solve any problem, and life after Hogwarts was still too far away to be concerned with. It was simple, she missed that the most.

He changed things though. With his messy blonde hair and irritable smirk, he turned her world around and changed her without her knowledge or permission. It wasn't that he was devastatingly handsome, that she had been seduced by his looks, lured into his bed. It began in the hall; it ended outside in the rain.

They were both running late for breakfast. She was shoving a shoe on her foot as she hopped towards the Great Hall; he was lazily making his way down the corridor lost in thought. They ran into each other. She sat on the floor waiting for an insult that would never come. He stood up and then extended an arm to help her up. Help her, a Weasley that he was supposed to hate…she had just looked at his hand in disbelief for a solid two minutes before accepting it.

Once she was on her feet, he continued on his way.

"Hey," she had called out to him. He turned and looked at her expectantly. "Why did you do that?"

He shrugged, "I wasn't watching where I was going, you obviously weren't either, and we ran into each other. I didn't mean to do it."

"No…why did you help me up?"

"Oh. I don't know, just the decent thing to do."

Decent? Malfoy was attempting to be decent? "I, well…thank you."

His mouth twitched as though he wanted to smile. Or smirk. She wasn't sure anymore. After a moment, he went into to the door and held it open for her. They walked in, ate their respective breakfasts, and that was supposed to be the end of it. Except, she just couldn't leave it at that.

He had intrigued her; he had set the wheels in motion. If he had just said something typical and nasty to her, he would have remained 'bloody Malfoy' forever in her eyes…but he had to be so mysterious. Curiosity killed the cat. Or at least it killed all normality in her life.

She followed him one day. He was walking down the hall and she just trailed after him. She wasn't sure why…not like she had any particular reason to stalk Malfoy. Stalking wasn't exactly her forte; she turned out to be very dreadful at it.

He had whipped around and caught her red-handed. "Any reason that you're following me, Weasley, or just looking for some entertainment?"

"I…" she looked at him, having no clue what to say in this situation. Her eyes drifted up towards his hair. His hair was once slicked back into an almost helmet-like hairdo that was hideous. This year though, he had stopped putting the gel and charms on his hair. It just fell now, shading his face, blowing into his line of vision. "Why is your hair like that?" she asked before thinking.

He smiled…she wasn't sure why. "Genes. Have you ever seen Lucius?"

Ginny gave a nervous laugh, "oh, yeah." She gave a thoughtful tug to her own hair, "I can relate to that."

"I'm sure you can. See you around, Weasley."

"See you." And then she left. Nevertheless, the intrigue was still there, stronger than before. He was subdued now, no longer the spoiled arrogant child he once was. His father was still in Azkaban. She would have guessed that that was what had changed him…but he was the same brat after his father's imprisonment that he had been before it. Something else must have happened, something huge. She was dying to know what.

And so it began. She learned his habits, noticed where he liked to go and what he liked to do. He loved to fly just when the sun was setting. He would go to the library during dinner because he knew that no one else would be there. He would wander the castle halls alone, lost in thought.

And she was always there…watching, waiting for something that she couldn't identify. In the back of her mind, she knew that he was aware of, or at least suspected, her presence. He didn't seem to care though. He was always alone; she thought that perhaps he simply enjoyed the company.

Sometimes he would acknowledge her…which was how that she knew that he was aware of her shadowing. It was a joke almost. They would laugh together, making fun of a situation that they couldn't identify.

She still didn't know why she was following him. It was almost a calling, she was drawn to him. They couldn't have actual conversations in the presence of others, that wouldn't be kosher. They still had their ancestry, the inherited hatred.

He would acknowledge her, but never talk to her to the point where it could be seen as meaningful. He wouldn't even turn around to face her. There wasn't even a falter in his step as one day he called out, "Weasley." It was a statement, he didn't need to ask.

"Malfoy."

"Why do you follow me?"

"I don't know."

"Oh. All right then."

And then he continued on, with her behind him. He seemed to accept the situation, weird as it may have been.

She tried to stop. Attempted to put a halt to her borderline obsession with him…but that was impossible. It had gotten too far. It was in the way that their few words turned into something more. He would talk to her. He would call her his shadow; she would call him a smooth talker.

She could feel herself falling. Falling for something ridiculous enough to laugh over. She was falling in love with someone that she barely exchanged words with. She could read him though, and he her. It was instinctive, primitive…innocent.

It began to scare her though. She could remember the exact moment when she knew it had gone too far. They were taking their usual stroll throughout the castle; she noticed that his step was more hurried than usual.

"What's wrong?" Ginny commented from behind him.

"Why do you ask?"

"You're walking faster."

He turned sharply and she would have ran into him had he not automatically caught her in his arms. "You shouldn't know that."

She didn't say anything. She shouldn't notice things like that about him, he was right about that. "What's wrong?" she repeated as if she hadn't noticed his comment.

"Why do you know everything?"

"I don't know everything."

"You know me."

"I know you," she said in confirmation.

"Why?" he asked again.

She shrugged, "if I knew 'why' then I wouldn't follow you."

"You…" he seemed to be processing information too quickly. "You know everything about me, don't you? You know my likes, my dislikes, and everything in between."

She nodded slowly and gave a small smile, "I know nearly everything about you…and you know nothing about me." She meant it to sound ironic, he took it differently.

"And that's how you want it, isn't it? You want the upper hand, you want to know everything there is to know about me, all my weakness and strengths, and you don't want me to know anything about you."

"That's not how I want it. You've never taken the time to notice me; you don't know anything because you don't pay attention, you-"

"When you're upset you chew on your hair--which is a disgusting habit by the way--you sing loud and off key whenever you think you're alone in the hallways, you eat your food in order, you finish one item and then move on to the next. Don't tell me that I don't pay attention."

"And why would you know all of that about me?"

"For the same reason that you watch me and follow me, I don't know." He let go of her arms as if he had forgotten that he had a hold of them. He turned back around and continued down the hallway.

She waited a moment before sighing and going after him. She couldn't live without knowing why.