The Darkened Mirror of My Soul


Disclaimer/Warnings: I do not own the characters. Slash – Draco/Harry, slight Lucius/James.


When did I become a stranger to myself?

I cannot remember. Only that now, it hurts to look at my own reflection in the mirror because I feel so ugly, so painfully ugly. And the scars won't seem to fade. They don't want to leave me, but secretly I don't want them to. Because they are my only link with reality, my only connection left with the real world.

The real world is grotesquely hideous, and so am I.

Tell me, what have I done wrong, that the wizarding world praises me, but my friends turn their backs against me, and lock the secrets away from me. Which path did I choose erroneously?  Where have I gone astray? Now, they cruelly leave me to drown in my own taciturn thoughts that dissolve into nothingness as the days wear by.

It is odd isn't it, how darkness changes to light in just the curved descent of the melancholic sun. As the night falls, and the black sky blankets this side of the earth, the moon is pale and perfect in her beauty. Even though it steals the light from the sun, it glows strangely with a passion of its own. A borrowed fervour, that only last for a few silent hours.

The darkness makes us all equal, which is why you chose it in the first place. And which is why I am choosing it now. All the lies in the day don't matter anymore, its just you, whole, empty and shredded. In the dark, there's no one to worship me. No crazy fans to praise me for my past laurels. It may surprise you, but you know what? I love it that way. Because you only came to me in the dark and in the light, your eyes are strangely veiled from mine.

Draco. How could you abandon me?

I hate you. Do you know that? I hate you.

You said you'd take away all the pain, all the scars and everything else left wedged in between my tornado of emotions. But you disappeared, and I don't know where you've gone. You don't want me to know do you? Before I could always find you wherever you hid, but now, I am blind towards your whereabouts.

It is no use for me to smash the mirror and try to pretend that I am whole again. I have tried, but my knuckles, even when they bleed from the splintered glass I feel no pain, for I have repeated this process ten, maybe twenty times. My heart bleeds a thousand times more furiously then my hands Draco, and I cannot heal them myself, just like a plaster cannot heal the wounds of the soul.

Can I not take back the things I said to you?

Can I not take you back?

And even as world passes me by, I cannot feel. It isn't because of you; for the numbness that floods through my veins it is not your fault. It was mine, for pushing Hermoine, for pushing Ron so far away from me. Even my only 'family' I rejected, as I sent Ginny reeling into the heartbreak of rejection. It wasn't my fault that she was innocent. The shining eyes and smiling mouth she carried around in the day was real, while mine was not.

The war makes monsters out of us, and I am the most hideous one of all. I am the one who enjoyed the power to control the lives of others; I am the one who enjoyed seeing the end of my enemy. Oh, it was no empty victory. I rejoiced, and relished their pain. I basked in their agony, especially that of Voldemort. When he fell, I was there to laugh at him, to tease him in his defeat.

Remember what happened? I cast an immobilization spell on him. Watching him struggle was like watching a butterfly flapping its wings, but failing miserably to fly. Just that Voldemort's face does not look any thing like that of a butterfly. Imagine a great man, a great wizard, humbled before a teenage boy. I divested him off his shirt – do you know why?

            Because I wanted the world to see his imperfections, I wanted everyone to know that he was cracked. From afar, he looked like a picture perfect porcelain, but when you went close enough, there were lines on his face, across his chest, everywhere, as if the skin on him could not bear to keep together. I laughed at him, but it stemmed up from the fact, that inside, I was very much like that as well. So to hide that all, I made him the mockery of the wizarding world.

 And you know what? Even Hermoine turned away at my cruel taunts.

Voldemort died a slow and humiliating death – I made sure of it. But what of your father Draco, what of your father who harboured a secret desire for mine?

We would never have known anything, if the spell used to steal another's memories was not perfected by us. It could only have been us that could simultaneously cast the spell; for we each had something of ours trapped in Voldemort's iron grip.

Our father's souls.

James and Lucius. Lucius and James. Can you imagine them sneaking away like how we did just for those few moments together; catching each other on deserted corridors, dragging each other into unused classrooms? Can you imagine your father, lying on the bed in wanton abandonment, gazing at my father the way you used to look at me? Can you imagine, a spitting image of me, fondly taking your father's face in his hands, with his eyes filled with an unspoken love.

I cannot. Can you?

I think I hardly believed it when I found out my father loved your father, Lucius Malfoy, more than he loved Lily Evans. The thought is still foreign and strange. I cannot imagine that I was born under so many lies, and so much deceit. That every time my father lay with my mother, he was thinking of your father instead. How ironic. It is reminiscent of the time when I slept with Ginny, while dreaming it was you that was screaming my name, calling for me.

You never did that. The Malfoy pride was your undoing. Just like it was your father's.

Don't you think it was funny how it was only by blackmailing your father that my father died under Voldemort? Ah, the Dark Lord is a sly and cunning one. And it was a pity that your father fell for it. I wonder what it was like when he saw his lover die under his master's wand.

Draco, we cannot erase our ancestors' sins. Just like I can never erase the fact that I was addicted to you. And it was because of this addiction that Voldemort could be defeated. It was our disturbing bond. Things run around in circles here, and the never-ending chain of repercussions traps us all. The darkness needs to be fed continuously, or it will destroy us both. You can't deny it Draco, no matter how much you run away.

So don't. Come and stay with me, and we shall embrace the shadows together. For I need you, my drug, my addiction, my poison.

Have you heard of how an infested wound eats at a person? It gnaws. I t is a dulling sensation and slow throb that manifests from the open gash. When it explodes, it swallows. It consumes the person whole. I would know, crawling underneath my skin, is an unmistakable gash, where the darkness of my soul swims in.

No matter how much you run away from me, and run away from your past, it will haunt you.

Be sure of that.

And I will find you, to make sure that I leave a mark in that bitter heart of yours. I want to hurt you, just to hear you screaming my name.

I did it once, and I shall do it again. Narcissa is not here for me to dispose of this time, but I will make you suffer, for leaving me alone to tend my hurts.

I am Harry Potter, once the perfect golden god, and the world bows at my feet.


A/N: I just had to edit this as well. Its my obsession that my fics just aren't good enough.First word count: 989. Second word count: 1414

Dark, perhaps a little too dark for Harry's character. This is the end result of too little sleep and too much alcohol. My only piece that was not pre-written, and I did not think it was much good for it doesn't have much plot. Cheers anyway. Review, and we shall see if there will be a sequel, or maybe something from Draco's POV. I'd like to thank Relle, for encouraging me to post this up *huggles*, S_star (S-star), for wanting to archive my fics on her site *hugs*, and for bakachan17, for being so sweet. =)


I regret tomorrow more than yesterday.