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I Give You a Wondrous Mirror	By : Lomonaaeren Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 17806 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Thank you again for all the reviews!

Chapter Four�The
Golden Feeling

�� Draco�s
head hurt so much that he felt certain something must have hit him. A stone, a
storm, a spell, it didn�t matter; his skull was still splitting and about to
break, pieces of skin held together only by pain. He slumped against the wall,
moaning, clawing at the door of the Manor as if it would be able to hold him
up.

�� And then he
felt something that terrified him even more than the pain in his head. The
doorway began to fade and crumble away from him like mist, or the way the front
gates did when they expected a visitor. Draco knew he would drop through it in
a minute, and then he would land�

�� Where?

�� He clawed
some more, and the stones only broke further. He began to tip sideways with
slow, sickening inevitability. He wailed, and stuck out one hand as if his
mother stood near him and could pull him out of danger, the way she�d attempted
to do so many times during his Hogwarts years.

�� A hand
caught his own, and then a pair of arms solid in a way the Manor currently
wasn�t wrapped around him, and Potter�s voice shouted directly into his ear,
�Hang on, Malfoy! Think about your family! It�s the only way!�

�� In other
circumstances, Draco might have argued just for the sake of arguing (and
because it was Potter who had taken
it on himself to tell him what to do). But now, he was far too terrified of his
own tilting and his home�s fading to resist. He pictured Scorpius with all his
might, thinking of the warm weight in his lap when his son clung to him, the
baby-breath in his face, the soft yawns and murmurs and demands for stories.

�� And the
tilting, the fading, the horrible pain�

�� They stopped,
leaving not an echo of themselves behind.

�� Even
standing in Potter�s embrace, a position that would have embarrassed him at any
other time, did not take precedence over Draco�s utter astonishment. He nearly
fell, and this time it was a combination of Potter and the Manor�s doorway that
held him up.

*

�� Harry felt
the ground fuzz beneath him, in a way that normally only happened to him in
dreams, as if it had turned to dandelion fluff. Had he believed he would wake
from this as a nightmare into another and better reality, he wouldn�t have
fought.

�� But he knew
this was real, and he did not want to
know where this strange, rippling magic thought it could take him. The only
time he had suffered anything comparable was when he�d glanced up, seen Draco
Malfoy�s face and reaching hand in the mirror of his loo, and smashed the
reflection with his own magic so he couldn�t be drawn into it.

�� On the
other hand, this time there was no mirror to break, and he had no idea how he
could stop his going. Grimly, he reached out in thought to the people he loved;
he could at least die with his last memory being of how Al had looked up from
his toast and gaped at his enchanted counterpart when Harry floated the
portrait of their family through the fireplace�

�� And the
rippling vanished, and he knelt on grass again.

�� Harry fell
onto his hands, breathing hard, the sound of his own heart so loud that for
long moments he didn�t realize Malfoy was still groaning. Then he bolted to his
feet. A sparkling mist surrounded the other man, like�well, like light
reflecting off broken glass. Harry suspected he was suffering from the same
thing, and fellow-feeling made his feet light as he leaped up on the threshold
and his arms quick as he seized Malfoy and pulled him against him.

�� He knew he
shouted that Malfoy should think about family, but he couldn�t remember the
exact words. He was too busy being terrified that he could feel the shoulders
and robes under his hands growing perceptibly thinner, as if he were trying to hold a beam of sunlight.

�� And then,
with an audible crunch, as if the
invisible mirror that surrounded them had broken all over again, Malfoy turned
real again. Harry clutched at him in a paroxysm of relief, then did a little
dance to avoid dropping him as he momentarily became dead weight. His hand
slapped out and clutched the doorway, though, and he stood there, breathing,
head dangling, cheeks lightly flushed with what Harry could only guess were the
remnants of shock and fear.

�� Harry
closed his eyes. Dreams tried to tell him that he already knew how Malfoy would
smell and feel, from constant nights of holding him�even if not in the flesh.
He strangled the dreams.

�� It didn�t
help that Malfoy seemed to be in no great hurry to draw back from Harry�s
embrace. His head rolled to the side and rested on Harry�s shoulder for a
moment, and his breaths stroked along the side of his neck. Harry shuddered�his
neck was a sensitive place�and pushed him back a little more roughly than might
have been strictly necessary.

�� Fuck that, he thought as he rubbed his
hands on his robes. It wasn�t strictly
necessary for Malfoy to lean on me like I�m his sole source of support, either.

�� He
retreated into the front room of the Manor, which he caught a glimpse of from
the corners of his eyes as pale, filled with light and an enormous ornate
fireplace and more silver knickknacks than ten wizards should need. �Are you
all right?� he asked, loudly, ostentatiously. Where the hell were the
house-elves? They should have come the minute they sensed their master in
danger, shouldn�t they?

�� Well
enough, for someone suffering under a curse,� Malfoy rasped, and then his head
lifted, and Harry found himself unwillingly forced to meet a pair of eyes
brilliant with knowledge. �One that you�re suffering from, too, Potter. Aren�t
you?�

*

�� Potter
froze, as if he were going to deny it, and then he ended up just shrugging and
saying nothing, though his lips tightened. Draco took the moment to study the
man he hadn�t seen in more than a decade.

�� He
certainly looked more adult than he had ten years ago, but he wasn�t
unfamiliar. Draco had had the mirrors to tell him that Potter now wore his hair
in a style that didn�t quite
resemble, �Look at me, I�ve climbed out of a rat�s nest,� and which
artistically concealed his lightning bolt scar, even when he turned his head
away from Draco�s intent stare. His green eyes had brightened and deepened at
the same time, acquiring a store of both experience and happiness.

�� Happier than I am, I�d wager, Draco
thought, and felt a stirring of the old envy that seemed to be his constant lot
in Potter�s presence.

�� He wore
robes that suited him much better than the Hogwarts robes ever had, of a shade
just between black and deep green, and what Draco could see of broad shoulders,
muscled chest, and warily held arms urged him to touch. The clasp of those arms
lingered around him like the smell of smoke. He suspected that, if he permitted
himself, he might have a new wank fantasy for a few days or weeks.

�� Not that he
would permit himself, of course. Because it was Potter.

�� The
knowledge that Potter suffered under the same kind of curse, though, was
enormously heartening. Here was someone who would believe him, who would make
it so that he wasn�t alone anymore. And if Potter tried to deny that the same
thing had happened to him, Draco would brain him with a broomstick.

�� Stared
your fill, Malfoy?� Potter said, and he still couldn�t manage a proper sneer.
Of course, Draco would like to think that what had just happened between them
had unsettled Potter as much as him.

�� Not
quite,� Draco said, modifying any appreciation out of his voice. �First of all,
I want to know how you knew that thinking about my family would stop the curse,
whatever it is.�

�� Now that he
thought about it, Potter might have known how to make Draco�s life better all
these years, and he had never come forth with the knowledge. He had certainly
suffered less than Draco had. Selfish Gryffindor, as usual, not considering
that maybe, just maybe, the man he
saw in the mirror might be undergoing the same thing.

�� Draco
folded his arms and waited for an answer.

*

�� Harry hated
the way Malfoy stared at him, hated the way he spoke, hated the way he moved,
hated everything about him. He had spent the last ten years trying to put the
dreams and the unavoidable glimpses in any reflective surface away, and now
that he shared a room with the git, all those memories rushed back at him,
making the hairs along his arms and neck practically stand on end with
awareness. He knew exactly how many
feet away from him Malfoy stood, what the pattern of his breathing was like
and, now, how his skin smelled.

�� Harry hated
it. But then, he had always hated this strangeness. It made a part of his life
that couldn�t be shared with Ginny, the way they shared everything else�space,
children, love, beliefs. He had lived with it. After all, if he never came back
into contact with Malfoy, the strangeness should wither and die. And if it
didn�t, it made no more difference than the neglected hobby of collecting
Chocolate Frog cards he had once had and which his wife did not understand,
either.

�� All the more reason to be done with this
business of fulfilling the life-debt as soon as possible.

�� I didn�t
know that,� he said roughly, and then cleared his throat. �Nothing like this
attack has ever happened to me before. I thought I was�well, dying. I
envisioned my son, and the shaking stopped.� He snapped his head up, reminding
himself that he didn�t intend to cower before Malfoy. �And the same thing
happened to you when you thought about your family, didn�t it?�

�� Malfoy
nodded. �My son, Scorpius.�

�� Harry
cleared his throat again, this time so he wouldn�t snicker.

�� And you
know you weren�t dying,� Malfoy continued quietly. �You were going somewhere. Weren�t you?�

�� Harry
clenched his fists as all impulse to laugh died away from him. �I don�t see why
we need to discuss this, Malfoy,� he said. �I intend to fulfill the life-debt
your mother called in as soon as possible, and I need only deal with her. It
would be convenient if you could put your memories of the night the girl was
murdered in a Pensieve for me, but��

�� I�m tired of not being able to look at my
reflection, Potter,� said Malfoy, and advanced one step towards him. �I�m tired of not knowing when the hell the
scars I received from you will burn, or what that burning means.� Harry
couldn�t stop himself from starting, and Malfoy snorted. �It happens to you,
too, doesn�t it?� he asked, and in his voice Harry heard all the things he
didn�t want�strangeness, intimacy, a forced acknowledgement of this odd magic.

�� It�s my
scars from Voldemort that burn,� he retorted, and was pleased to see Malfoy
flinch at the name even though it had been ten years. �You never gave me any scars worth mentioning.�

�� Malfoy�s
nostrils flared. Harry spun on one heel away from him, partially because he
didn�t want to get drawn into an argument and partially because he could tell
someone else had entered the room. Narcissa Malfoy stood in a doorway next to
the fireplace, her eyes passing back and forth between them and a small, tight
smile on her face.

�� Welcome,
Mr. Potter,� she said. �I trust my son has not managed to antagonize you
already?�

�� Not
completely, Mrs. Malfoy,� Harry said, with a forced smile, and was absolutely
delighted to see Narcissa look at her son with a frown. He�d certainly never
thought he�d live to see his school rival receive a scolding from his mother.

�� Of course,
he would rather have lived without seeing his school rival receive anything,
even this.

�� He pushed
the thought out of his mind and smiled more politely. �As I told you,
unfortunately I have only a small amount of time each day that I can devote to
this case. I am glad to be able to fulfill the life-debt, and I�ll do all I
can, but I can�t solve it on the spot, or perhaps even within a few days.�

�� Narcissa
tilted her head down graciously. Harry thought she approved of his honesty; she
probably would have distrusted a declaration of altruism more than one of
self-interest. �The matter is not yet pressing, Mr. Potter. The evidence
linking Draco to the crime is fragmentary, and the Aurors are hunting a few
other suspects. Draco has already placed his memories in a Pensieve for you,
which I have in another room and will escort you to, since my company will
probably seem more congenial than my son�s.� She held out an elbow to him. �Shall
we?�

�� I would be
delighted,� Harry said, and took her arm, and left the front room without a
glance back at Draco.

*

�� Draco was
still staring after him when Marian�s voice said from the direction of the front
door, �He�s more impressive than I thought he would be. Not least because he
was not so impressed with you.�

�� Draco didn�t
bother turning to face his wife. He knew she would have one hand on her hip,
her head lifted in the imperious posture that she probably didn�t even realize
she�d copied from Narcissa, her face angled so that her scars were emphasized.
He didn�t care to see her at the moment.

�� Potter�s
never been impressed with me,� he said absently. �But in this case, he doesn�t
have a choice. We share the curse that makes it dangerous for me to look into
mirrors.� He turned to face her now, feeling less intimidated than he had done
for over a year. Perhaps my hatred for
Potter just drives other feelings out. �He�ll have to listen to me to have
any hope of undoing it.�

�� Marian�s
lips parted in a faint smile, and she took a few steps forwards, like a witch
preparing for a duel. Draco shook his wand into his hand�Marian had attacked
him before�and waited.

�� And if he
insists that he doesn�t need you?�
she murmured. �If he can live with
the curse in the way that you can�t, because he�s stronger than you?�

�� That won�t
prevent me from seeking clues in his behavior, now that I know it affects more
people than just me,� Draco said calmly. �He can be my test case. I�m not
unique, and my mother�s theory that the curse came from the spells my aunt used
during the war grows more and more unlikely.�

�� Marian
shook her head, just a bit. �I saw you,� she said. �I saw you near the door. I
saw you fading.�

�� Did you?�
Draco studied her with narrowed eyes, reminding himself that he had no reason
to be frightened. His wife wouldn�t try to kill him. Narcissa would know, and so would the house-elves, who
as a last resort could communicate with the very walls and floors of the Manor
itself and draw forth any memories of threatening words or gestures. Besides,
she wanted him alive so she could make him miserable. �Well, I highly doubt
that you�ll be able to do anything to exacerbate it, so don�t flatter yourself.�

�� I saw you
fading,� Marian repeated softly. �I saw the man who endangered my child fading.�

�� I fathered
him, too.�

�� Marian
flicked her fingers, never taking her gaze from Draco�s face. �Unimportant. You�ve
never felt another body inside yours, Draco, or a second heart beating
alongside your own. If I hadn�t felt the physical evidence, I would say that
you haven�t a heart. You love
Scorpius as your heir, and that�s all.�

�� Draco
blinked, surprised. Had Marian somehow missed how much he really cared for his
son? Of course, he never did show his
love for the baby in front of her. It was a weakness that would have resulted
in mockery.

�� That�s not
true,� he said.

�� You�re
having house-elves raise him. You let your mother saddle him with that name.
You let your mother use magic on him.�
Marian leaned forwards. �Tell me, where in that is evidence of caring for him?�

�� It�s the
way Malfoys care for each other.� Draco hitched a shoulder. �Not that I would
expect you to understand that, since
the only Malfoy thing about you is your current last name.�

�� When will
you learn that it�s better not to antagonize me, Draco?� Marian murmured, and
then she turned and left the room.

�� Draco
snorted and shook his head. His hand tingled as it fell away from his wand, but
then, most of him seemed to tingle,
blazing with excitement.

�� Potter
suffered under the same curse. And yet he seemed to lead a relatively normal
life, and Draco had never heard any reports of eccentricities on his part�which
avoiding reflective surfaces would surely be.

�� If he could
do it, Draco could. Or he would ask Potter again and again, and study him,
until he found out how he could do it.

�� Because
anything Harry bloody Potter could do, Draco could manage.

�� He let out
long, slow breaths, and felt as if he were breathing in sunlight.

*

�� Harry pulled
his head back from the Pensieve, frowning. Narcissa sat in a heavy oak chair
beside him, identical to his in everything but height. The Pensieve sat at one
end of a long dining table that Harry imagined could have seated twenty with
ease. Harry had had his head down inside the silvery liquid of Draco�s memories
for perhaps twenty memories.

�� Narcissa
had already showed him the articles about the murder in the Daily Prophet and conveyed what
information she had about the night it happened, which wasn�t much. And while
Harry could see why the Aurors suspected Draco, he had no clue how they could
actually solve the case.

�� Or how he could, for that matter.

�� Harry shut
his eyes, massaging his temples. He would go slowly, and rework the memories in
his head. He would put them together, if he could, and try to spot gaps, or at
least a place where he could begin.

�� The girl�s
name had been Esther Goldstein, and apparently she�d been distantly related to
Anthony Goldstein, an old Ravenclaw classmate of Harry and Draco�s. She�d
entered Hogwarts two years before them, though, and completed her N.E.W.T�s and
left the school without incident. She�d settled into a nondescript Ministry
job, filing paperwork for the Obliviators and occasionally filling in for them.
Even when the damage was done to the relationship between Muggleborn and
pure-blood witches and wizards during Voldemort�s War�which nearly everyone
Harry knew called the War of You-Know-Who or something else similarly
ridiculous�she�d escaped persecution by vanishing in time, and then returning
to take up the same job as before. If she had any political ties, both the Daily Prophet and Narcissa�s contacts in
the Ministry had been unable to discover them.

�� Harry had
seen pictures of her face, and of the body. She was a quiet, brown-haired witch
who looked a bit young for thirty, squinting into the camera and turning her
head back and forth to study the observer with one eye, like a bird.

�� The body,
which had been found a week ago, was mutilated to the point that the Aurors who
found it had been unsure at first if it was human. Most of her fingers and toes
were missing, but both thumbs and the right index finger had been stuffed down
Esther�s throat. Every limb was severed, most of the skin had been stripped off
in small pieces, and the top of the skull had been opened and the brains
scooped out. Worst of all, someone had apparently taken a knife to Esther and
raped her with it before she died. The Auror reports Narcissa had obtained were
written in a shaky hand, and Harry absolutely could not blame them.

�� The only
sign of Draco�s supposed presence was a strip of cloth with the Malfoy crest on
it dropped nearby. Even the Aurors recognized it as obvious bait in a trap, but
they had no other leads, so they�d seized on it.

�� Narcissa
had also shown him the threatening letters that had arrived at the Manor starting
six months ago, long before Esther�s murder happened. Most of them threatened
harm directly to Draco, but there were also some addressed to Narcissa, and
even Scorpius, Draco�s son, and his wife, Marian. Most described in lavish detail
the mutilations the tormentors would inflict on their bodies.

�� Harry was
familiar with such methods from his work with the Blood Reparations Department,
though the actual infliction of such violence was rare. He was sure that he
would have heard more about Esther�s murder if the Aurors hadn�t wanted to
concentrate their attention on the Malfoys. Both the extreme pure-blood
supremacy groups and those �revolutionaries� who wanted to ensure Muggleborn
control of the wizarding world and full access for Muggles to all kinds of magical
conveniences would use letters like these at times. Since the Malfoys were a
prominent pure-blood family, it wasn�t surprising they�d been targeted.

�� But the use
of blood magic�Narcissa had showed him the spatters of evidence captured and
frozen in the Manor�s wards�and the apparent attempt to link the Malfoys and the
murder was far more serious. Harry couldn�t remember any case like it since
Hermione had created the Department.

�� Harry had
never cared for Draco, but he and his family didn�t deserve to die at the hands
of fanatics. He assured Narcissa solemnly that he would look into the case and
do what he could to bring it to an end.

�� She accepted
that, too, graciously enough, and accompanied him back to the front door of the
Manor. Harry did pause on the way there, because his curiosity wouldn�t let the
matter entirely rest, to ask about
Draco and mirrors.

�� Narcissa�s
brows drew down, and she sighed. �Has he told you about his belief that he
cannot look at his own reflection safely, then?� She shook her head. �It is not
true. I believe that, at most, some of the curses my sister�� her mouth twisted
��cast during the war have returned to haunt him. But the matter does not
threaten his life, and is not as serious as he believes.�

�� But what
are the symptoms?� Harry persisted.

�� Not being
able to look into mirrors. Some of his scars burn some of the time, apparently.�
Narcissa shrugged, patently uninterested. �It keeps him a little odd, perhaps,
but it is his own lack of ambition that means he has done nothing with his life
since the war.�

�� Well, at least he doesn�t have dreams. �He
remained at home even before these threats arrived, then?� Harry asked.

�� Yes.�
Narcissa snorted. Harry thought she might not have confided this to him at all,
but she was frustrated at having no one
to talk to. �He stays at home, and plays with his son, and avoids his wife, and
does nothing else. He�s only
twenty-eight. He has more life in him than that. But he won�t listen to me.�
She gave a single sharp nod. �I mean to make
him listen, but my latest plan cannot proceed until this threat is past��

�� She seemed
to realize whom she was talking to suddenly, and snapped her mouth, shutting
off the flow of words. She gave Harry a cool little smile before she turned her
back and departed, and he took it as the signal it was to bow his head and get
out.

�� Draco
waylaid him before he could step out the door. Of course. Harry folded his arms, sighed, and leaned on the
doorframe that he had rescued the git from sinking into an hour before. �What
do you want, Malfoy?�

*

�� It was on
Draco�s tongue to say, �You,� just to see how Potter would react, but that
might make his wedding vows take notice and subject him to intolerable itching,
and he didn�t want that. He wanted the answers to a few questions instead.

�� Do you
think I committed the murder?� he asked.

�� Potter�s
mouth actually dropped open slightly. Then he shook his head and said, �Of
course not,� as if the possibility hadn�t even occurred to him.

�� Draco
blinked. �You don�t? Why?� Surely his worst rival in the world�and someone
stupid enough to refuse to admit he was suffering from the same magic as Draco�would
want to believe him capable of a heinous crime.

�� You�re not
a killer,� Potter said. His voice carried firm conviction. �You never were. I��
He paused for a moment, then said, �I was there, that night on the Tower, when
you couldn�t kill Dumbledore. And I had a mental connection with Voldemort
during the war. I could sometimes see through his eyes.�

�� You
realize how insane that sounds, yes?� Draco couldn�t resist interjecting.

�� Potter
ignored the interruption. �And I saw him ordering you to torture people.� His
voice softened, and he gazed at Draco with pity in his face. �You did it, but
obviously against your will. I never thought much of you, Malfoy, but I could
never class you with the likes of the Carrows and Fenrir Greyback�or your aunt,
for that matter. And it was someone like that who killed that poor girl. Not
you. Never you. You have some
essential decency in you.�

�� Draco licked
his lips and lifted his chin. His heart was pounding oddly fast. �And enough
courage to face this curse, even when you don�t.�

�� Potter�s
face shut down. �Leave it alone, Malfoy,� he murmured.

�� You don�t want to know?� Draco cocked his head.
Emotions he hadn�t felt in ten years were moving through him, energy that made
his brain feel fuller and faster than a good meal could. �You�re content to
live the rest of your life in fear of your own reflection? How unlike you, Potter.�

�� I want to
live my life,� Potter said, enunciating each word clearly. His eyes stared
directly into Draco�s, and the intense feeling increased, thrumming through his
blood like the healthy equivalent of the tension that had nearly destroyed him
earlier, making him long to feel more of it. �Without this kind of strangeness.
Without seeing you more than I have to. We got rid of that fading feeling once,
but who knows when it might return?� Potter shook his head. �No. If I ignore
it, it�ll go away.�

�� I�m not
willing to do that,� Draco said.

�� You can
study it all you want. Just don�t expect my help.� Potter turned away as
abruptly as he had when Narcissa summoned him and exited the Manor.

�� Draco closed
his eyes. His chest heaved with a deep breath. The golden feeling of energy and
well-being was cleaning out his veins, speeding through them, stirring sluggish
blood. Ideas stirred in him, where
for so long his brain had felt locked in ice, unable to work, unable to come up
with anything that would change the basic, nerve-deadening situation in which
he lived.

�� Perhaps it
was the mere presence of his enemy. Perhaps it was knowing that someone beside
him suffered under this magic, and that it was real. Perhaps it was the first statement
of belief in him that someone who was not his mother had made in ten years�no,
longer, because neither his parents nor the Dark Lord had been blind to his
lack of ability during the War, and even Snape had continually doubted Draco�s
capacity for any task not related to Potions.

�� He wasn�t
free yet. Not by a long shot.

�� But he might be.

�� And for
that, he was willing to risk everything he had in hand at the moment. Save for
Scorpius, it was not as though he had anything to lose.

*

�� Yami
Bakura: The chapters will probably be around 3500-4500 words normally, so some
are definitely shorter than others.

�� Thrnbrooke:
I can�t tell you what that means yet.

�� Mangacat:
Yep, Luna and the painting have been introduced into the story for important
reasons, so will reappear later.

�� Paigeey07,
Moyima, Ramandu, rAiNwAtEr: Thank you for reviewing!
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I Give You a Wondrous Mirror