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Stranger in the Mirror by luinrina

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Story Notes:

Disclaimer:
I do not own anything: neither the characters, nor the setting, nor the plot. I only wished I do, but the lovely J.K. Rowling has all rights.
Chapter Notes:

The spoken sentences are directly taken from Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, chapter twenty-four Sectumsempra (pages 488 to 490 in the British Bloomsbury edition).

My thanks go to both hogwartsbookworm and Maple_and_PheonixFeather who gave me lots of interesting titles to choose from. The title suggestion I finally used came from hogwartsbookworm.

And of course, many thanks to my beta mudbloodproud for her incredible job on making this readable.

This story has been written as homework for the first week's assignment of Professor Laur's D/A class in autumn 2010. The actual task was to write a drabble, but my muse got overexcited and pulled that one-shot out of her quill. *rolls eyes* Anyway, have fun reading.

Stranger in the Mirror



It was no use. No matter what he tried – and no matter how often he tried it – the passageway was not useable for humans. They would get hurt, maybe even killed in the process. He couldn’t risk that. The Dark Lord would kill Draco or his mother instantaneously. Or maybe even both. And for what? Only to get revenge on his father who failed to complete his last mission, instead ending up arrested and thrown in to Azkaban?

Draco stood there for a moment, trying to decide whether or not to try again, but with no more alteration of the cabinet, the outcome would be the same: a complete disaster.

With an angry outburst, he flung the apple he held in his hand, originally intended as a test object, through the cathedral-like room with all his might. It vanished out of sight, but Draco still heard the smash when the fruit collided with whatever. He thought screaming out his anger would help him, but the contrary happened.

Draco felt now even more at a loss of how to continue with his mission.

Slowly, he therefore left the Room of Requirement and turned towards the Slytherin common room. He saw no point in staying any longer when he was out of ideas anyway. But when he passed the door to the boys’ bathroom on the sixth floor, he stopped, pondering. In the state he was in now, the others would most likely start to ask questions. He wouldn’t – couldn’t – have that. The Dark Lord had promised to kill him should he leak his mission to anyone. So Draco retreated into the bathroom to take some time in which to compose himself.

Only, he wasn’t alone.

‘Get out!’ a girl’s voice shouted at him from out of sight, even before the door shut behind him. Her voice sounded thick with tears so Draco thought she was most likely sitting in one of the cubicles and crying her eyes out.

Draco frowned, then snarled, ‘This is a boys’ bathroom. You are the only one that has to get out.’ He was a little surprised that despite the state he was in, he still felt superior over the girl. That surely meant there was still hope for him left, wasn’t there? He simply had to succeed! But how? Hadn’t he just a few moments ago realised that executing the Dark Lord’s plan was out of his league?

But he assigned you with it so he must have some higher opinion of you, his inner confidence told him. Draco nodded to himself, siding with this thought.

Though, if that were the case, the threat to kill you and your mother in case of failure would hardly be necessary, wouldn’t it? his logic argued. If the Dark Lord really thought highly of you, none of this would be necessary.

Draco felt that there was as much truth in this thought as before, so he nodded to himself again. But that was really his problem, wasn’t it? Being torn over it all. That was why he didn’t know what to do. He didn’t want to lose his mother, or his own life for that matter. He was still so young! But he felt proud of having been chosen, of having been allowed to join the Dark Lord’s forces. Surely the Dark Lord had chosen Draco because he had recognised Draco’s superiority over others!

‘Until now, you are the first to tell me that,’ the girl interrupted his thoughts. Draco looked up and into Moaning Myrtle’s bespectacled ghost eyes. She was floating just outside a closed cubicle door. ‘Everyone else usually leaves when they hear me.’

Draco schooled his features into a blank mask as to not let her see what went on in his mind and scoffed. ‘I’m not everyone else, wimp.’

From what he had heard about Moaning Myrtle, Draco expected the ghost girl to break out in another flood of tears or wailing fit. However, to his surprise, Moaning Myrtle’s face distorted in anger. ‘I’m not a wimp!’ she screeched.

‘You are,’ Draco returned, taking pleasure in being able to rile her up that easily. ‘Everything you do all day long is to wail and cry. Only wimps do that.’

There was silence for a long moment in which Myrtle looked like she pondered his words. Then, very much to Draco’s distaste, she floated closer and scrutinised him through narrowed eyes. Her expression was completely blank, so Draco couldn’t even tell what she was thinking. Eventually, she said, ‘You have turned into a wimp then yourself.’

Her words rendered him speechless; they stung. No one had ever called him a wimp before. He was Draco Malfoy, heir to the Malfoy fortune and of pureblood ancestry. He was one of the youngest Death Eaters ever! But he didn’t feel it, the superiority, at least not right now. So had he really turned into a wimp? Was Myrtle right? He felt the weakness inside him, the inability to fulfil one single simple mission. And for what? Only to protect his mother? What a wimp he truly was! For Slytherin’s sake, his mother was a born Black; she was able to protect herself!

Feeling the weight of the realisation, Draco staggered over to the wall and bent slightly over, clutching at the first sink. He tried to take some calming breaths to shake off the uncertainty that wanted to freeze him, but he had no success. He seemed unable to do anything really as of lately.

Moaning Myrtle surprised Draco again. ‘Don’t,’ the ghost crooned gently. He didn’t turn to look at her, but the voice sounded like the ghost had gone back into the cubicle of earlier. ‘Don’t… tell me what’s wrong… I can help you…’

He wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of the ghost’s words, at the ridiculousness of the entire situation, but all he could do was to succumb to the threat of tears. If he wasn’t mistaken, that was the first time that he, Draco Malfoy, was crying. What a wimp he truly was…

‘No one can help me,’ he pressed out, starting to shake heavily from head to toe. He loathed himself for such weakness, for displaying vulnerability. But he could not help turning into a cry-baby. ‘I can’t do it… I can’t… It won’t work… and unless I do it soon… he says he’ll kill me…’ What had possessed him to confide in the ghost he didn’t know. No one must ever know, never! Get a grip on yourself. You stand there like a baby and are actually crying. You are a man, Draco! Men don’t cry!

Shuddering at the thought that he had allowed himself to sink this low, he took another breath and gulped the self-pity down. A Malfoy never gave up, and Draco was determined to show the Dark Lord and the rest of the world that he was someone that had to be taken serious. So, straightening his shoulders, he looked up – and met Potter’s gaze in the mirror above the sink.

How –?

Wheeling around, Draco instinctively pulled out his wand. Fury that Potter of all people had seen him coursed through his body. How he wished that this good-for-nothing boy was dead…

Before the other could react, Draco sent a quick hex in Potter’s direction, but due to some unfortunate luck on Potter’s side, Draco missed his target and his momentary advantage of speed was gone. Instead, Potter now threw a jinx of his own in Draco’s direction, but Draco was better. He blocked the jinx and aimed another curse at his opponent in nearly the same movement. From nearby, the ghost started screaming something that echoed loudly in the room, but all Draco heard was a painful ringing in his ears.

This slight distraction gave Potter time to send another jinx towards Draco, but luck had it that he missed. On the inside, Draco sneered at Potter’s poor duelling abilities, but the fact that his opponent had got a chance to fire another jinx in his direction only served to make Draco angrier. There was only one way that would ensure that Bloody Potter learnt his lesson and Draco would use it to show his opponent who was the better of the two.

Raising his wand, Draco fuelled all his hatred into the magic and cried, ‘Cruci—’ But before his curse could do any harm on Potter, the other one had – with a wild wand movement – cursed Draco.

Some spell hit Draco fully in his chest and severe pain spread through his entire body immediately. His vision turned red when his own blood spurted from the suddenly appearing wounds on his chest and face. Belatedly, Draco registered that wounds had appeared that looked like someone had slashed him with a really sharp sword. When the pain grew beyond bearable, his legs gave out and he fell to the floor, coming to lie in the water that ran out of a destroyed cistern that had exploded some moment ago when a wayward jinx hit it. Draco felt all strength flood out of his body until he didn’t even had any more power to hold onto his own wand. How he managed to gather enough strength to lift his hands to scrabble at his chest was beyond him.

Out of some unknown reason, Draco noticed how Potter staggered over to him and sank to his knees, mumbling something he didn’t catch. The Gryffindor looked… like he hadn’t wanted that? But no, that couldn’t be. Potter used every opportunity to show how arrogant he was, not caring for what others thought.

Before Draco could follow that thought, his mind unexplainably clear despite the amount of pain he was in, Moaning Myrtle starting screaming murder. The pain in his ears was nothing, however, in comparison to the one that coursed through his entire body. And before the echo of the ghost’s voice had vanished, the door to the bathroom burst open and in rushed Professor Snape.

Draco couldn’t really take it anymore and he noticed how – with his crumbling resolve to fight the pain – his vision started to darken slightly at the edges. With cool calculation, he realised it wouldn’t take too much longer until he would lose consciousness. For once in his life, Draco wished he was a weak girl and being able to succumb to unconsciousness immediately, right now! But no, is pride forbid him to repeat the display of vulnerability, even more so now that Potter was there to witness it. He just hoped that Potter hadn’t seen his weak state earlier, especially the tears. That would be horrible and a blow against his pride.

With satisfaction, Draco saw how Professor Snape pushed the Gryffindor roughly aside. Then the Potions’ Master chanted some murmured spell Draco didn’t catch. The effect was almost immediately, however. The wounds stopped bleeding and started closing again, both on his chest and face, everywhere where the wand of Professor Snape pointed. And with the closing wounds, the pain vanished until he could feel something else again, like for example the coldness of the floor on which he still lay. His clothes were soaked from the blood and water and clung to his skin uncomfortably. But at least Draco felt his strength return – slowly, but steadily.

Eventually, Professor Snape helped him stand up again, supporting him in case his legs gave out. Together, they made their way out of the bathroom, Professor Snape telling him that he needed to see the hospital wing and that dittany might help in avoiding scarring. Draco followed him willingly. Everywhere was better than being where Potter was.

However, before they left the bathroom, Professor Snape turned back towards Potter and in a cold voice said, ‘And you, Potter… You wait here for me.’

Smirking inwardly, Draco hoped that this insolent boy would finally get what he deserved.

Chapter Endnotes: Seeing that you got this far, wouldn't it be a shame if you didn't take one more minute to review to let me know what you think? Reviews are love! Thanks for reading.