Title: Fake
Author: Crystal
Summary: D/G, during HBP. Draco helps Ginny realize something...
Dedication: To The DLA (:

Author's Note: I might add more chapters to this. Tell me what you think.

-

"You're fake."

Ginny Weasley narrowed her eyes and turned her gaze upwards, the words echoing in the empty corridor outside the Great Hall.

"Excuse me?" She snapped, her knuckles growing white around her Potions books.

His face stayed blank, the epitome of tabula rasa, and the distance between them closed. Soon she could see the silver in his grey eyes, feel his warm breath colliding softly with her face.

"I said that you are fake." He muttered slowly, his lip curling.

"How dare you-" Rage filled her to the brim, consuming every thought. Normally she would have shot back an insult and brushed it off, yet something in the way he said it- cold and flat- unnerved her usual instincts. A lump of frustration formed in her throat, for what he said rang true.

"Strutting around while Potter's and every other bloke's eyes follow you every where you turn. Pretending it's what you want. Cracking jokes and laughing as if it's what truly makes you happy. It's disgusting."

His face was no longer unreadable, now it had a ghost of deceit and distastefulness. Five long fingers reached up and grabbed a lock of fiery red before flicking it aside in disapproval. Something warm tickled her spine at the gesture, and her anger grew.

"You don't even know me, Malfoy. Now, if you'll excuse me-" Ginny made a move to leave, to escape, for the sooner she did, the sooner she could forget that this little meeting ever happened.

"You're not excused." Draco said firmly, his eyebrows raising in amusement as he quickly blocked her way. "And I know more than you think I do, little Weasley..."

"Don't call me that and get out of my way." The words left her lips in a hiss, her hand curling threateningly around a wand.

Draco noticed and smirked. A moment ago those grey orbs were studying and calm, and now they danced with glee, his very posture hunching to better close in on his prey- her. "What are you going to do if I don't?"

"What do you know anyway, you arse?"

"Oh, aren't you the clever one." He mused, backing her up into the wall. The cold stone seeped into her robes and cooled her warming skin. His voice deepened, became a husky whisper running along every groove of her body. "I know you've been trying to lure in Potter for years. It's pathetically obvious." A flash of something dark appeared in his eyes, bringing his expression to settle into an unfound anger and consuming jealousy. "I know you use all those other poor boys to do it. I know you skip around in that skirt acting perfectly happy- fake- but inside you're dying under all this pressure to be the perfect little girlfriend for Harry Potter- just waiting patiently for the day when he finally sees you. Aren't you, Ginny?"

His hand had somehow found a resting place right above her shoulder, and the other one, pale-white and searching, grabbed another few strands of her hair, feeling the silky texture. Ginny could only stand, dumbfounded and trapped.

A simper spread his lips. "That's what I thought." He concluded.

"Stop it." She said sibilantly, uninvited emotions ludging in her throat. His fingers traced the delicate slope of her neck and he took another step forward.

"I'm right, Ginny, and you know it. Why fight the truth?"

His hand was still on her, stroking steadily and her eyes burned with tears and realization. She hid them, lowering her eyelids, slumping against the wall for some kind of leverage, somewhere to push off of so she didn't have to know what this bottom felt like.

"Tell me, Ginny. Just how desperate for him are you?"

"Stop touching me." She tried to demand, but it came out weak and small and whining.

"Just how desperate and how deliciously low could you possibly consider yourself to wait so long for your precious Potter?"

Her face twitched away from his roaming fingertips in a wince that answered all, but the graze of his touch followed obidiently, moving her unwilling face closer to his.

The look on his features was one of triumph, the silver in his eyes gleaming and a small smirk adorning his face. He was disgusting, the embodiment of all she had ever hated, and his touch was like ice, freezing and every bit as demeaning as she could have hoped for. And she liked that gentle caress, because letting him, the boy who brought nothing but disgust to everyone and everything she held dear, practice it- made her as low as she felt.

He came even closer, eyes steeling themselves to stare at the pink lines of her lips, and every nerve stood on edge, in anticipation, in fear. "You are perfectly ripe for the taking, aren't you...?" He muttered excitedly, almost to himself, and Ginny watched in awe as those lips brushed against hers, once, and again. Her muscles stiffened and her skin tingled exquisitely, yearning for more, pleading for more, because it had felt so good and should have been so entirely repulsing.

His lips pressed more firmly against hers, beckoning her closer and deeper inside the pain and hatred that was consuming her being. This is what you deserve, a nasty voice spoke from the back of her mind, and the outline of Draco's body against hers was lean and warm and strong.

She was weak, a bundle of dying strength and painted words she believed were true. One moment she had been everything she had wanted- everything she was sure Harry would have wanted- and now Draco Malfoy had tore all of that away with a smile and a flick of a careless wrist.

His tongue forced itself into the confines of her mouth, and they both sucked in much-needed air simulaneously. Her little fingers gripped the black robes that covered his arms, a palm pressing between shoulder blades, somehow wiggled underneath her own robes and massaging the susceptible skin beneath.

"Malfoy." She gasped out, succumbing and clutching at him.

"Draco." He corrected fiercely, breathlessly, before pulling away so abruptly she almost tripped forward, cinnamon focusing through haze to look at him in question.

The rumble of his laughter shook her body. "This, Ginny. How you are right now..." He lured her into a trap, letting his lips touch hers once more. "This isn't fake. This is real."

She swallowed and stared in the hollow of his neck, closing her eyes yet again. Cold air separated them and she slouched against it, surprised that the small molecules could keep her upright. A grip clung to a lock of crimson hair once more, softly tugging at it. And then he was gone, only a pair of fading footsteps.