Title: Myth

Author name and e-mail: mistykasumi at SeducerofFantasy@hotmail.com

Pairing: Harry/Draco

Summary: A shower of gardenia petals is all that separates Draco from remembering Harry, but he doesn't know it's so easy.

Rating: PG

Category: Suspense/Drama

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any related characters and objects.  They belong to J. K. Rowling, Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Inc., Warner Bros, and anyone else with copyrights.  I only own the plot of this story and any original items, characters, spells, and any other original objects not found in any of the published HP books (including the two minis).



            For the fourth time in a row, the lark sang as he passed.  It was a quaint little creature, really, with a vibrant voice and limber wings, faint blue feathers mixed with mottled black covering itself.  But what really attracted his attention to it were the vivid green eyes of the bird that seemed a bit unnatural for it.

            He bought the exotic creature and left the shop, ears full of melodious singing.  Why he bought the bird, Draco Malfoy did not know.  He just knew that he was compelled to buy the bird, the bird that sang to him everytime he passed.

            The lark was placed in the Bird Room, along with all the other exquisite specimens his family owned.  Unlike all the other birds, however, which were left to be cared for by the servants, Draco visited the lark everyday.  He didn't know why, but something drew him to the bird and its unnatural eyes.

            The emerald eyes were not like anything he had ever seen before.  His own eyes were cold grey, capable of holding little emotion.  Blaise's blue eyes were clear blue that reflected everything yet nothing at the same time….Or did…until they ceased to exist.  The green eyes of the lark were eerily bright yet somehow spoke of intangible suffering and catastrophes, as if it was somehow human.

            And the song…Draco experienced déjà vu everytime he heard it.  It was as if he had heard it before, but he hadn't….Had he?  Draco had an impeccable memory, and he was certain he had never listened to it before…But then, why did the melody stir up something from deep within him?

            The bird mesmerized him with its mysteries.  Draco would often skip meals and refuse to sleep just to watch the lark, singing to him, always.  Sadness always crept into its eyes when it sang, and Draco couldn't understand, didn't understand, but he desperately wanted to know why the lark fascinated him so.

            The conditions remained so for two years, two long years.  Two years in which Draco's skin grew paler because he refused to leave the manor, two years in which Draco's eyes grew duller from not leaving the lark, two years in which the emerald eyes of the lark grew brighter as it sang.

            He stumbled upon it by chance.  Walking through the library, he tripped most ungracefully and found his eyes resting on a book of fairy tales, myths, and legends.  And immediately, he knew that the answer was in a book full of imaginary rubbish.

            Looking through the volume, he finally found the legend that he had been looking for, the one that he had adored above all else as a child, the one about the hero who saved them all.

            When the equal defeats the Heir, a bloodshed so great shall drench the earth that history shall repeat itself, starting from the beginning.  However, the Heir shall cease to exist, and the equal shall, instead, become a songbird unlike any other, destined to roam the earth until the remembrance of his loved one frees him.

            Draco went back to the bird, looking at it intently.  "Was I your loved one?" he asked quietly, and the lark blinked, one tear slipping out of an emerald orb.  Draco opened the gilded cage and took the bird out, cupping the creature in his hands.

            "I'm sorry," he whispered, "but I don't remember.  Perhaps it's best if I stay away for a while."


            He was strolling in the gardens, the same way he had many times before.  However, his thoughts were never so unfocused as that he would walk into the part filled with gardenia shrubs, the ones his mother had loved because she received one every day from the day she and Lucius first saw each other to the day of her death.  Draco did not want to be reminded of his beautiful mother and what had happened the day of her death.

            But when he first set eyes on the white petals, he did not think of his mother.  Instead, he saw green eyes before a deluge of images flooded his mind, suffocating him under their weight.  Quidditch matches that never happened, confrontations that never took place, and most of all, a boy with messy black hair and radiant green eyes who stared at him boldly, who kissed him, who made him shiver with madness.  And a rain of gardenia petals showering forth the day they left Hogwarts.

            Draco rushed back to the Bird Room, and he saw him.  They stared at each other for one long moment, barely coherent thoughts running through their minds.  Gardenia petals then drifted down from the ceiling, and they were lost as the flowers covered them with their caresses.


Happy Birthday, Krystal-chan!