Reflections

Delia found herself wandering in the seventh floor corridor of Hogwarts. It was her first month at Hogwarts and she didn't know the castle very well yet. She was starting to panic thinking she was lost, when a door appeared in front of her. Curious, Delia opened it slightly. The room was dark, as tall as a cathedral and columns were holding a high arched ceiling. In the middle was standing a mirror.

Delia was about to leave the room, knowing for sure she wasn't supposed to be there, when her eyes saw something moving in the mirror. It wasn't her reflection; a boy was staring at her. They could have been siblings, his hair was as pale as hers with grey eyes and the same pointy nose, he was a little bit taller and probably a few years older. She came in closer, and the boy moved closer too.

Delia was about to ask the boy what he was doing here when she noticed he opened his mouth to speak. She stopped and so did he. That was awkward, thought Delia, scratching her neck pensively. Her hand froze when she realized the boy in the mirror was scratching his neck too. It was her reflection after all. She made a few movements with her arms to make sure she wasn't hallucinating, but the boy was replicating every move, even the slight frown on Delia's confused face was perfectly imitated.

Comforted that it was just a strange occurrence and not actually someone trapped in this mirror, Delia came even closer and decided to analyse the reflection in further details. He was wearing the boy's uniform of Slytherin's house; his mid-long hair was falling in his grey eyes that were staring at her. He seemed at ease in his clothes that fell perfectly on his chest and hips, the white shirt was tucked in his black trousers and the sleeves were cuffed at his elbows, revealing a white pale skin and thin wrists. He even wore the Malfoy's smirk perfectly. Delia knew this smirk, she had spent hours in her mirror at home to master it. He was beautiful thought Delia with envy.

A wave of sadness submerged her when she realised that this boy was all she had ever wanted to be. It was like looking at the perfect person she will never be. Somehow, her hidden dream was stuck in this mirror and that wasn't fair.

Tears of frustration rose in the eyes of the eleven years old kid standing in the dark room. The thoughts she had tried to ignore those past years surged back in Delia's mind. The horror she felt the day she realised she would have breasts one day. The embarrassment that submerged her at Madam Malkin's shop when Narcissa Malfoy was beaming over Delia in her Hogwarts uniform that consisted in over the knee socks and a grey skirt. That wasn't her. She didn't want to be that person, she would never fit.

Why wasn't she like this boy, this perfect boy in the mirror, taunting her more than she thought was possible.

The boy started to move, he wasn't a reflection anymore. His pale hands reached his collar and started loosening the knot of his green and silver tie, then unbuttoned his shirt and let it fall at his feet. His slender fingers unbuckled his belt, dropped his trousers to his ankles. Delia was mesmerized. The boy was wearing something under his shirt. It looked like a really tight tank top. She watched him struggling to get out of it and gasped when she realized there were small breasts under the fabric. Without looking at her, the reflection continued undressing, he was now slipping out of his boxers. Delia wasn't sure if she wanted to see a guy naked but continued watching anyway. She'd never seen a man naked but she knew that was she saw wasn't what she had expected. Under his clothes, the boy was similar to her.

She recognized the star shaped birthmark on the reflection's hip, the same mole on the shoulder, the boy's body was like hers, maybe a little bit older, but it was definitely the same. The boy and Delia were the same person. Everything made sense, there was hope, the boy in the mirror had shown her what she could be, who she would be.

The boy smiled and silver letters floated in front of him. "Hi Delia, I'm Draco."

Two years later

Draco woke up early, a grin on his face. He had dreamt again about that fateful day he stumbled upon the mirror of Erised in that room. He still remembered how he boy in the mirror had given him the last piece that helped everything in his mind fit together like a puzzle from the moment he understood he wasn't the girl he thought he'd been all along. From that moment, the changes had been gradual, he had started by cutting his hair short and switching his skirts to the boy's uniform. A few eyebrows were raised but no one really objected it. He had to go to a muggle shop to find his binder during his second year's Christmas break, when his body started growing in the way he had dreaded for so long. Magic would get rid of those eventually, but he didn't know how yet and that was something he didn't trust anybody else to do it for him. He could wait a few years.

The tricky part of his transformation had been explaining how he felt to his parents. To his surprise, they'd been thrilled to have a son who would carry the line of the Malfoys through history. Coming out to his parents was a necessary step if he wanted to get in the boy's dormitories; this had been Snape's condition.

Draco shambled to the boy's bathroom and looked at his reflection, who resembled the boy he had seen two years earlier in the mirror of Erised. He grinned, thinking today was a good day. The quidditch match against Gryffindor was today and he fully intended to erase Potter's stupid smile off his face when Draco would catch the Snitch.