Dysfunctional = Chapter 1: Screwed Up

Summery: Pansy's always wanted to be a writer. There's only one problem, she doesn't have a story.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything I swear. All belongs to JKR.

A/N: And thus begins another story when I have two unfinished ones already in the works... sigh Well I'm actually rather proud of this one... If you like this please check out my other two Harry Potter fics, Relive My Pain and My Life Is Over!

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Well I've wanted to be a writer ever since I was little. I'm not even really sure why. You know I don't even like to read all that much? So right now you're asking yourself, now why would a girl who doesn't even like to read want to be a writer? Well I guess it's just because I've always thought that there are stories out there that need to be told. Some of them are real and some of them are fiction, but the one thing that all great stories have in common is that they needed to be told. And for every story that has to be told there's someone who has to tell it, just like there're people who are destined to read it and be effected by it in some way.

So ever since I was a kid I've known that I was one of those people who was going to write something. I never doubted that. The only problem was, I didn't have a story I needed to tell. I had no motivation or inspiration or anything else a good writer needs to write. My parents didn't even know that I was interested in writing, not that it would of made a difference if they had. Hell half the time I don't even know if they knew I existed, that's just the way my family was.

My name is Pansy and I'm the second child of Malleville and Daeva Parkinson, and their only daughter. Now, one might expect that this would make me some what of my mother's favourite I suppose, but that really wasn't the case. As a child I think I was more like a doll or something that she could dress up in frilly floral printed dresses and such, but after a while I guess the novelty wore off and I was left to be raised by the hired help along with the house elves. Don't get me wrong, I wasn't neglected per se, I mean I was always provided for and fed, but for the most part it was my nanny Ady who raised me.

See seven years before I was born my parents had my brother List. And what does that have to do with anything? Well in the pure blood wizard families you need an heir, not to inherit all the money because as far as I know I do get some of it, but to carry on the family name. Call it old fashioned if you like, but it's just how things are done. See when I get married I'll be forced to conform to the man's family and take his name, where as a male will keeps his name. I've been told that some females find this procedure to be outdated and sexist, but I was never all that attached to my name to begin with, so I really don't care. Now after my brother List there was really no need for any more children, mainly me. I'm not even entirely sure that my parents ever even truly wanted to have a kid in the first place, but it was their responsibility to bear at least one male child.

For their eighth anniversary my parents decided to go on a fourth honey moon to Paris. Sounds terribly romantic no? Well that wasn't really the case, see my father had death eater business and my mother just loves the shopping there. Anyways one night back at their hotel I guess they got a little carried away and forgot the protection charm... Anyways nine months later out came little old me.

All in all it's pretty safe to say that my parents never loved me. I think they may have liked List, or at least pretended to. I was never jealous of List though, like most people think I would be. See he didn't exactly have an easy life either. The boys in pure blood families have certain standards to live up to. My father placed tremendous pressure on him. List was head boy, the captain of the quidditch team, married Prucilla Nott and now works for the ministry in the same department as my dad, which ever one that is. I don't tend to pay all that much attention to things like that. But he didn't do any of that because he wanted to. He didn't even like quidditch, and he wanted to a professor of something like History of Magic, or arithmacy, but he did what he had to in order to not "bring shame down upon the family name" and I happen to know that he was quite in love with a Hufflepuff in his Hogwarts days, whose name was definitely not Prucilla. See all I'll have to do in life is get married to someone that my father approves of and then give birth to an many kids as needed until I have a boy. I suppose I could have a job if I wanted to, but what would be the point?

So you see there wasn't ever really anyone there helping me out along the way, at least not at home.

When I used to sit up in my room thinking about stories and ideas and such, I always promised myself one thing, that I would never write a romance novel that middle aged witches sat and read, wishing their lame ass husbands were more like the main male character. At the time I guess it was because I thought they were sappy and pathetic, but when I think back to it now it was probably just because I didn't really know anything about being in love or even being loved. I wanted to write something really dark and awful that made people cringe in horror, but turn and read the next page anyways. I guess you could say I was a twisted little child.

Of course as most young witches and wizards are, I was sent away to a boarding school at the age of eleven. I attended Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, because both my mother and my father had.

I received fair grades in all of my subjects, though none of them really interested me. As much as I'm ashamed to admit it, I have never been terribly interested in things like magic. I heard that muggles study things like English and creative writing in school, which I think I would of enjoyed, but there wasn't anything like that at Hogwarts. Even if there was I'm sure my father would of forbid me from taking any such courses.

Hogwarts did have it's up sides though. First there was the fact that my parents weren't there which was quite nice really, but more importantly there was Draco Malfoy. Of course when I first met him I didn't think too much of him mind you.

He spent our entire first year going on and on about that prat Harry Potter. Apparently Potter had refused Draco's offer of friendship. His loss really, but of course poor fickle Draco couldn't just leave it at that. Despite his certain dispositions, Draco actually proved to be rather entertaining. He used to do the best impression of Professor Bins. He had most of Slytherin house wrapped around his little finger by the end of our first week.

Supposedly the rest of the school thought that Draco was a horrid stuck up brat, and I have to say that I agreed with them, but he was a likable stuck up brat. But you know the entire school population, Slytherins exempted of course, were rather biased. Quite often it was Potter or one of those awful Weasleys who started things, like the time when they walked past Draco and "accidentally" dropped an entire bottle of itching potion on him. Draco was red and blotchy for a week, but it was the rest of us Slytherins who really suffered, we had to listen to the complaining.

I remember that he came back in our fifth year with an obscene obsession with coffee. Apparently he had spent the entire summer having early morning hexing/poisoness potion making practices with his father and had discovered his love of caffeine. We were but mere aquaintenences at the time despite having gone to the Yule Ball two years previous. He spent the entire first term complaining about the awful state of the coffee that the school served (which of didn't stop him from downing three cups each morning). So for Christmas I picked him up some French coffee beans, just for the chance that he might complain a little less (he happens to be rather loud). Of course he didn't get me anything, but he did love the coffee. I gave it to him the morning before students left to go home for the holidays. He instantly summoned a house elf and had them brew him a cup.

It was watching him drink that damn cup of coffee when I realized that I liked him, like really liked him. God only knows why or how, but over the years I'd grown to be rather fond of the brat. Naturally the boy barely knew I was alive.

I used to have this theory see, basically I thought that if you were screwed up you were destined to wind up with another screwed up person, because naturally, no normal person wants to be with a screwed up person. So you either ended up miserable or alone and miserable, neither of which was a very interesting prospect. And I considered myself to be extremely screwed up. And Draco, though a little spoiled, wasn't screwed up. At least I didn't think so. He respected his father, and I assumed he loved his mother, he was on the quidditch team and he was a goddamned prefect. I mean come on that's practically the portrait of normal. He could have been Hogwarts' poster boy, I swear!

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A/N: Okay well that's all that I've got so far... So please take the time to review and tell me what you think!