Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters, the only thing that belongs to me, sadly, is the plot. If JK Rowling would give me Draco Malfoy, I would die. Sadly, again, she won't.
Warning: Slash. Male/Male Pairing.
Rating: Rated R just to be safe.
Pairing: The ever-snarky, ever-passionate, ever-loving Draco/Harry. Yay!!!
Author: Dorothy.
A Soul Mate's Story
Chapter One: The Famous Mirror of Erised
There were nights when the wind was so cold
That my body froze in bed
If I just listened to it
Right outside the window
There were days when the sun was so cruel
That all the tears turned to dust
And I just knew my eyes were
Drying up forever
He could feel the warm light of the sun envelope his pale skin as he stood in front of the large window, his gray eyes downcast to the dust on the frame instead of the beautiful earth on the other side of the glass. His posture was of one who was superior, for his hands were behind his back, his chin lifted high, his legs were together and his breathing was silent and almost predatory.
It was so sunny outside, the birds were chirping, the sky was gleaming with its familiar early-May warmth, and the grass was green and it gave a fragrant of eternal earth… but that was on the other side of the window. The classroom was slightly chilly, the stone cold floors were hard and rough – that is, if one such touches it with their feet, and the aura around the room spoke of hidden sadness.
Lost in thought again, Draco Malfoy didn't feel his student's sympathetic glance towards their Professor one day in early May. He didn't feel their eyes search his clean and sharp black robes that day, nor did he feel their suppressed sadness wash over him in a wave. He didn't feel anything nowadays, anyway.
He heard the door creak open far away, where his mind was clouded with thoughts and dreams, feelings and emotions and pain, and he brought his gray eyes to his viewing level of the window. He didn't turn his head as he heard small and hesitant steps come up from behind him, until; finally, he felt a light tug on his robe.
"Uncle?" the small voice whispered, and Draco couldn't help but smile sadly as he turned his head around without revolving his body and looked down at the small bushy redheaded girl.
She looks so much like Weasley, he said to himself as his matured face turned into a slight smile that he only reserved for the saddest and compassionate times. He looked around the room and several nosy but interested eyes dropped back down to their work, the heavy scratch of quills against parchments familiarizing the purpose of the room.
"Yes, may I help you?" He asked sincerely, turning his body 180 degrees so that the sun shined on his back, and he shivered slightly as he felt the warmness on his neck. He kept his hands stationary behind his back, blowing some of his blonde hair from his eyes as he looked down at the girl with respected interest.
The small girl held out a piece of parchment that was folded ever so delicately, twirling around in her best dress as he gave him a sweet smile.
"Mummy asked me to give this to you," she tried to seem discreet, her rosy and freckled cheeks blushing ever so slightly as she leaned forward on her toes, her blue eyes glistening with mirth and child innocence. She giggled when he bowed slightly to the princess, and she waved as she pranced out of the room in ironic happiness.
Draco sighed as he took long strides to his desk, opening the parchment slowly. It read:
Malfoy,
Come with us to dinner tonight. Don't be alone again tonight… please. What are friends for, anyway?
Love, Hermione, Ronald and Ginger.
Years ago, he would have scoffed at the mere mention of the word 'friend' coming from Hermione Granger, but nowadays, he enveloped in the support. He smirked unconsciously as he saw Hermione's tidy scrawl written on the paper, then, at the end where Ginger's name was, it was of a handwriting of a preschooler just learning how to write her name.
He licked his dry lips as he raked his hands through his hair for the third time that day. The first was when he woke up in the morning, yawning in his empty bed made for two as the sheets underneath him felt cold and screamed out their need for warmth. The second time he ran, or glided, his hand through his hair was after he took a shower, the tired eyes and the bags under it exhibiting how he slept last night – and almost every night, in fact. The third time was now, as he read the note from his colleague.
Alone, he thought to himself as he read the note again, unsure of what to do exactly. That word repeated itself in his mind as his eyes searched the parchment again. Don't be alone again tonight… Alone…Some of his blonde hair draped over his forehead and some of the fringe got in his eyes as he unhurriedly brushed them away, and for the fourth time that day, he ran his pale and graceful hand through his hair.
He sighed sadly as he read those words over and over again, his gray eyes almost burning through the parchment with intense sadness that he almost dropped the paper as his fingers became numb… almost lifeless.
He snapped out of his thoughts when he heard the shuffling of feet and the closing of textbooks, he looked up slowly to see some of his seventh year students file out of his classroom, all of them looking over to the vibrant red rose on his desk before turning their heads away, some of their eyes trying to hold back tears.
He watched as one of his prized students came up, Melissa Bogtrottle, and she gave him a small smile as she put her heavy Defense against the Dark Arts textbook in her bag, her delicate fingers closing the clasp. She waited to speak with her gentle voice as the last student filed out, and she was there with her brown eyes, gazing into his own.
"Professor Malfoy? I… I just want to say, that… well, all of us want to say," she looked back into the empty classroom before she turned her head back and said in a soft voice, "We all want to say that we can understand what you are going through… and if you need any help at all… or need someone to talk to, or anything…. Even if we are your students…. We would be glad to help you…"
She trailed off there, unsure of what to say next as she averted her eyes to the flower that gleamed ironically in the bright day. It smiled sadly back at her, the main reason why it was there was to remember something… someone, because their soul was like a flower. Beautiful, sad… loving, wholesome… that is why Draco Malfoy put that rose there every day. A new one each day, to symbolize hope.
Draco only nodded and sighed quietly before he said softly, "Thank you, Ms. Bogtrottle, I appreciate you and your year mate's concern. But… I think I will be all right."
He said it like he meant it, but he didn't. He would never really be all right again, not for a long time. It had only been a year since the incident… He shook his head, trying to get the sinking feeling to run away from his chest, but he couldn't. He doubted he ever could.
He gave his student a small smile as she left his classroom to go to dinner that night in the Great Hall. He wasn't even sure he could go in there – it was true, he was hungry and he was tired, but he couldn't face all the sympathetic faces around him. He was a Malfoy, after all. He hadn't eaten in days, he couldn't bear to go in the Great Hall this morning for breakfast when the sun shone through the enchanted ceiling and he couldn't bear going through lunch either – the eyes following him as he sat in his respected place.
Instead, he regarded the note that was still in his fingertips and studied it. Alone… What are friends for, anyway? It read. He gulped a bit, closing his eyes. The parchment was signed Hermione, Ronald and Ginger. In the silence of his defense against the dark arts room, he felt his heart pain with the remembrance of something he once had so securely in his grasp before it was lost completely.
Hermione, Ronald and Ginger. They were a family; they all belonged to each other. Hermione had married Ronald Weasley after school after dating him for a year, and they instantly clicked. They were a family now; they each had each other… and Draco…
He didn't want to think about it as he buttoned his robes tighter around his slim torso, years of Quidditch and Auror training sculpting his muscular build. He put away his papers from that day into his desk before he locked it with a spell, then he glided his hair back with his hand for the fifth time that day as he made his way around his desk to look at the rose that was upon it.
It was just there. It glimmered in the sun, it shivered in the slightly chilled room, and it brought life to the Defense Against the Dark Art's classroom. Draco let his pale fingertips touch the petals slightly as he tilted his head some, staring at it, almost memorizing it. Then he let his hand go, he let it fall hopelessly beside him as he continued to stare at the vibrant crimson flower.
Gulping, he turned away and made his way hastily to the door where he pivoted on his heel an inch before the doorframe and locked the door, breathing irregularly and slumping his forehead against the wooden door. He couldn't cry now… he couldn't. Malfoy's don't cry, it was against their nature.
He picked up his head that was leaning against the door and sighed as he made his way to Hermione's room – knowing already that she meant for their meeting to be there. His empty footsteps echoed through the empty hall as he turned a corner and made his way down the west side of the castle.
His feet carried him through the stone-floored halls, each turn and each step memorized in the back of his mind, so that he could find his destination blindfolded. He was vaguely aware of the near-silenced hall as he turned another corner and came face to face with the Bloody Baron. He shivered as he saw the bloodstains on him.
"Where you going, m'boy?" the Bloody Baron asked, his blood stains on his ghostly figure gleaming in the sun. He sneered as Draco bowed in respect before he replied in a monotone voice, "I am going to see Professor Granger… She invited me over for dinner."
He knew it wasn't just for that… he knew that they were worried about him. The bloody baron scowled as he floated away and started down the opposite end of the hall where Draco's destination was, but just as Draco was about to continue on his way down the corridor, the Bloody Baron said quietly, not looking at him, "I'm sorry about Potter." Then he made his way without a glance back at the blonde man, his voice imprinted in Draco's mind as the blonde man stood there staring at the ghostly figure float through a door.
Draco seriously didn't know how he would make it the rest of the day – particularly – the rest of his life.
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He knocked on the door quietly, the hard wood making his knuckles tingle slightly as he lowered his hand and awaited to be discovered outside his colleague's door. He heard a girl's voice muffled on the other end of the door before his ears detected a deeper male's voice alongside the child's.
The door opened seconds later to reveal a tall redheaded man standing beside a smiling child.
"Uncle!" she grinned and ran out, hugging him around his waist before she glanced up at his face. "I missed you," she whispered before she let go and took steps back, holding out her hand to bring him inside.
He didn't refuse as he smiled down at her, taking her childish palm and entwining their fingers, looking up and locking eyes with Ron. Draco nodded slightly and as he came in, he could feel Ron's hand on his shoulder in a soothing pat.
He entered the warm room with the child's hand still in his, looking around for his main host. He heard Ron close the door behind him absently before a soft, deep voice asked hesitantly, "Doing all right, Malfoy?"
Draco's bottom lip threatened to tremble right there and then, but he lifted his chin high and he looked back at the redheaded man. In a quiet voice, he reassured him, "Yes. Thank you for asking, Weasley. But yes… I should be fine…"
He trailed off as he felt the familiar pang that surged his heart, making himself feel sick and slightly uncomfortable. It was a lie – that he should be fine – it was a lie and he knew it. He knew as long as he was alone, he would never be fine.
Ron only nodded and kept hold of his gaze for a moment before he dropped his eyes sadly, looking at everything but Draco's own gray eyes. It was hard for all of them, Draco noticed; as the silence of the room crept up his spine and made him shiver suddenly.
"Draco?" a female voice called out at the other end of the room, particularly the other end of the door that lead to the kitchen. He looked down to see that Ginger, Hermione and Ron's child, looking up at him. Her freckled face radiating with her gleeful smile, her bouncy and curly hair shaping her small face.
"Uncle?" Ginger asked softly, smiling up at him and curling a strand of her bushy red hair with her pointer finger, "Mother wants us for dinner now… come with me?"
Draco smiled at the small child, squeezing her hand in his as he walked with her to the revolving door that lead to the kitchen. He remembered when Hermione and Ron fixed their personal chamber to make it bigger that is; they made an extra room for her expected child, a kitchen and a living area, plus another room for the study… Yes, Draco remembered it precisely. Hermione and Ron didn't want to intrude in the castle, but Dumbledore insisted they live there, there were plenty of rooms to spare.
He went through the revolving door with Ron close behind him, the smell of food whisking through his nostrils as he looked around the small kitchen. Dumbledore had allowed her to make a small kitchen when Ginger Weasley was born, so she didn't have to make it all the way down to the normal Hogwart's kitchen without straining herself.
There were four chairs around the square small table in the kitchen, a large platter of spaghetti in the middle of it. Draco's favorite.
She came over to him, taking off her oven gloves and hugged him gently around his neck, her bushy hair in his face as he hugged her back, his heart close to breaking as he felt her involuntary shiver. They stayed like this for a while, both of their eyes closed in the memory of someone gone but not forgotten; never forgotten.
Dinner that night was uneventful; no one talked that much except for Ginger. She would tell her mother or father, or anyone who listened about how her day was, how she went swimming with some of the Hufflepuff's down at the lake or how she made another friend, or, even, how she danced with the headmaster after lunch in the Great Hall when all the students were off in classes.
"Mummy, did Auntie Ginny owl? How about Uncle George or Uncle Fred? Anyone?" She asked quietly, smiling, "How about Grandma Molly? Did she owl?"
The silence stretched as the child's voice rang clear in the warm air, her voice innocent that no one could really answer. Draco played with his spaghetti absently, pushing the noodles to the side, aware of Hermione's hesitant voice and Ron's shuffle of his feet.
"Yes, dear, they all did… but it wasn't for you this time. They sent lots of letters to Uncle Draco though…" she trailed off, her eyes searching Draco's face as he didn't lift his gaze to look up at her. He couldn't look at her. He knew what would happen if he did. He would see unbearable sadness, he would see pain, and he would see sympathy.
He felt her brown, soft eyes look back into her own plate and quietly, Ron said, "Ginger. You want to talk to Grandmother Molly in the fireplace?"
Even Ron could feel the stiffness the blonde was portraying and he could feel the unasked question his wife wanted to ask Draco, for he stood up when the girl gave him a large, wide, and lopsided smile and rushed to the living room to talk to her Grandmother through the fireplace, leaving the bushy-haired woman and the blonde-haired man in the kitchen sitting opposite of one another.
He looked up slowly because he could sense Hermione's eyes on his face, and he watched her sadly as her hand glided across the table to his own hand, placing it on top and squeezing it reassuringly. They were quiet for a moment before Hermione whispered across the table, her voice concerned and almost hopeless, "Draco… I know you miss him, but you have got to stop doing this to yourself…" she trailed off and her voice cracked in the middle of her comforting sentence.
He could feel his heart pang now with each second she held his hand, with each second she looked at him, and he couldn't help but whisper back softly, his lip terribly close to trembling as his body was terribly close to scream for the need of a hug, comfort at the very least – and his eyes… his gray and superior eyes crashed down into the pit of despair, at last, he whispered back, "I-It's… It's just so hard, Granger… I miss him so much." He wasn't expecting his voice to crack, but it did. He licked his dry lips as he couldn't keep her gaze any longer and his bottom lip started to tremble against his will.
He put his hand over his mouth quickly. Malfoy's don't cry, he said to himself as he closed his eyes, and he could feel her squeezing his hand as she got up. She didn't let go of his masculine hand as he sat beside him in Ginger's empty chair, and she put an arm around him, her eyes close to tears, "I know you miss him, I know you do… you have got to be strong…"
He wouldn't cry. He wouldn't, he struggled with his tears as he felt her embrace around his lonesome body. He gulped loudly, his voice trembling, "I wish he were back here… I wish he was with me…"
She hugged him tighter and softly, with tears streaming down her face, "I know that… he loved you so much… he still does-," but she was cut off by his hoarse voice and a jerk of his body as he looked at her, eyes deep and filled with pain.
"No. He doesn't still love me. Don't you see?! He is gone. GONE," he stood up quickly, shaking his head, his eyes glossy with unshed tears, his voice stern and hopeless. He continued to shake his head as she went to him slowly and hugged him again, pulling him closer.
"He is not gone. Harry is not gone." She said, inhaling a shuddering breath before exhaling it, her nimble arms around him pulling him into a crushing hug that he couldn't get out of – he didn't think he could, anyway. He hugged her tighter and he breathed into her hair as they stood there in the kitchen, slightly swaying each other, comforting each other in their despair.
The revolving door creaked open and Draco tried to pull away from Hermione but her grip wouldn't let him. He took in another deep and shuddering breath, his fingers clenching her robe helplessly as he wished he could be anyone but him. He couldn't be seen like this – not helpless and without his guard up…
"Hermione – Ginger wants to-," but Ron was cut off by the image he saw in the kitchen, his wife and friend shaking in each other's embrace. He stepped forward unsurely and he laid a hand on Draco's back, rubbing it gently.
Draco felt his heart give way and the tears he had been trying to keep from escaping his soul trailed down his face, the hot and humiliating wet tears dripping into Hermione's robe. An escaped sob was exhaled within his next breath as he held her only tighter, wanting – no, needing someone's embrace and understanding to know what he was going through.
Ron rubbed his back softly, and quietly, he whispered to Draco's turned away face but looking to his wife's eyes as he tried his best to keep his voice steady, "Malfoy – Draco, you are one of the strongest people I have ever met… and you are doing so well – considering what happened last year…"
Hermione squeezed him again around his waist, her tears seeping through his shirt and her eyes closed in memory. He felt the lost warmth return to him slowly, those days without shedding his emotions making him feel alone and lost, but now that he was in his two friend's hospitality and understanding, he felt wanted. He felt needed.
They stayed there – who knew how long, and their heads were bowed down, the love and considerate affection surrounding them both. It made Draco feel a little better… just a little.
Draco pulled away from Hermione reluctantly and wiped his tears with the back of his hand, not looking at either of them. He only nodded but didn't believe the words Ron just said as he mumbled, "Thank you Weasley. I-I… I should go." He stood there for a second longer, staring at the floor, the Malfoy wit and superior ability to make one feel intimidated escaping him almost completely.
He gulped as he didn't wait for their response and pushed the revolving door that led into the living room where he saw Ginger sitting in front of the fireplace, waving her hands vividly in front of her, talking into the fire.
"A-And Susan said I could come visit her tomorrow!" she said, and Draco made the mistake of turning his head on the way to his exit out of there to be alone in solitude again as he saw Ron's mother, Mrs. Weasley.
"Oh, Draco, Draco!" she called out softly, her face filled with concern and it was noticeable that she cried earlier, "Dear… how are you?"
He loved Mrs. Weasley very much – she was very understanding to him the last year since what happened to Harry, and he couldn't thank her enough. He couldn't refuse her as he stepped forward and stood behind Ginger, his face downcast into the fire as he said quietly, "I'm all right… thank you for asking."
They looked at each other for a while before Mrs. Weasley nodded, Ginger looking between them questionably. Draco stammered, "M-mum… I'm… I have to go." He looked anywhere else but her and stepped back, almost tripping over a towel Ginger left on the floor.
He didn't look at her face, or even Gingers face – as he practically ran out of the room, shutting the door soundly behind him. He faced the empty and cool corridor with his chin lifted high like nothing happened, but his fingers clenched so tightly together that he was sure there would be marks on his palms from his fingernails. He exhaled an exhausted breath and started to walk to his quarters, shuffling his feet as he went and hands in his robes.
He ran his hand through his hair again as he turned the corner, his footsteps silent as he heaved a sigh. The candles flickered as he swept by them, the silence unbearably eerie and screaming in his ears. He should have asked Severus if he could have a sleeping potion, but he was too exhausted to make that extra journey as he opened his door to his personal chambers and entered it.
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Several hours later, he put on his robes over his pajamas and cursed himself again internally for not listening to instinct on asking his other colleague – Professor Snape, for the dreamless Sleeping potion. He had used too many in the last month, he knew Professor Snape would question about that, but not only that – Snape was probably asleep and he personally didn't want to wake him up.
He couldn't sleep – but he was also afraid too, because he knew the dreams would make him insane… and he really couldn't take waking up crying again like he had for the last year. He couldn't take the pain anymore, really. He couldn't take the trembling and he couldn't take the looks from his students of his friends, and he couldn't take the solitude and he couldn't take the hurt and the pain and the missing hopefulness. He couldn't take it, he couldn't take it anymore, but most of all, and he couldn't take the dreams – for the simple reason that no one would be there to kiss his tears away like there used to be.
He went to his closet and reached out his hand to touch the sacred and silver fabric, something he hadn't used in a while – and pulled it out, Harry's invisibility cloak glimmering in the moonlight.
Yes… it had been a long time since he used it.
"Oi, Potter, is that what I think it is?" Draco asked, his voice filled with awe and his eyes wide – the gray color shimmering with curiosity. He stepped forward and reached for the cloak, but Harry stepped back one space and shrugged.
The twenty-three year old Harry Potter smirked as he waved the invisibility cloak in Draco's face, before he said smugly, lovingly, "Its an invisibility cloak, honestly you git."
Draco smirked and looked up and down the shimmering cloak, and then he looked in Harry's eyes, which sparkled. Harry took a step forward while smiling and leaned in to whisper in Draco's ear, "It's our anniversary gift…I want to share this with you, " he leaned back to look in Draco's face and smiled as he saw the opened mouth and the wide eyes.
"How… how did you know I've always wanted one?" Draco's admired whisper didn't take Harry by surprise as he shrugged again, but his green eyes told much more.
"So… It's ours?" Draco asked, stepping forward and looking into his lover's eyes.
Harry only nodded, and smiled, before he whispered back, "It's ours, you can use it whenever you want… to sneak out… to use when we fight in the battlefield… to have some solitude…"
Harry trailed off as Draco embraced him, the unspoken emotion evident between the hug.
Draco held the invisibility cloak in his hand, watching the end flutter as he felt a shiver up his spine. He reluctantly pulled the cloak around him and walked to the entrance of his personal chambers before he opened the door slowly, and walked out.
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He had been walking around for an hour, mindlessly, not caring what he bumped into or the silence he was invading. The stone-cold floor comforted his feet as he walked, himself knowing that the passages could lead anywhere where he was welcomed. He didn't bother to look at his watch as he felt himself sway – his tired legs and baggy eyes not willing to uphold him for much longer. He turned at the corner of the corridor and looked down into it, the candles and the flames flickering in the solitude of the corridor.
His eyebrows came together in confusion – surely this corridor has never been here before. He shrugged moments later, reminding himself that this was Hogwarts, anything could happen.
He walked down it slowly, mind wandering from one thing to another – not all necessarily happy thoughts, but rather sad and some things that ran through his mind he wanted to forget.
He felt safe under Harry's invisibility cloak, almost as if feeling Harry holding him. It had Harry's scent – he realized upon walking with it. He still didn't feel like sleeping as he eyed one door warily – its rusty handle making it eye-catching for the blonde haired man, making up his mind to go through it instead of turning back as he felt sleep gain on him.
He opened the door soundlessly, shivering at the cool breeze that made his pajamas flutter with the invisibility cloak. He looked in surprise around the empty room; he would have half suspected it had some storage it in or something. He closed the door behind him and put his hands in his pockets, taking hesitant steps forward and turning his head sideways.
The room was huge, he noticed as he looked around. The ceilings were high, and the chandeliers glistened. It was quiet as he stepped forward, his feet not making a sound.
His eyes caught hold of something black, a black blanket draped across something large. He sighed and figured he didn't have anything better to do and went over to the large object, standing in front of it. He was slightly shorter than the object in front of him, but it didn't stop him from doing what he did next. He reached up with his hand, and pulled down the blanket with one determined sweep.
A large mirror stood in front of him. His gray eyes swept over the large frame as he took a step back to marvel at the mirror's grand beauty, and his eyes caught something on the top of the frame, which read Erised.
He had never seen a mirror like this to tell the truth. He had seen talking mirrors; haunted mirrors, mirrors that showed nothing at all… but nothing like this. The mirror was grand, to say the least, its frame wide and powerful, and the glass itself was bare. He stood in front of it seconds later, his hand holding the frame as he looked in it, seeing nothing.
He searched the mirror, hoping to see something…anything really.
He continued to look in it, until, finally, he sighed and was about to turn away when he looked from the corner of his eye and saw something in the mirror move. He turned his face around completely to face the mirror and almost screamed at what he saw.
He saw Harry. He saw his Harry. He saw his Harry and him, holding each other. His face paled until it was almost a deathly white. He took several steps back quickly, feeling tremendous bolts of shivers go up his spine in a mad rush that he almost ran away, until, slowly, his eyes traveled up his reflected self in the mirror.
He stopped in his tracks, tilting his head quizzically as he saw himself wrap his arms around Harry's torso, pulling him into an embrace.
He stood there for who knows how long, staring at the swaying couple in the mirror. He could see Harry's face, smiling, eyes closed, lips parted, arms around himself… he stepped closer subconsciously as he saw his reflected self reach up a hand and caress Harry's back.
Draco Malfoy licked his dry lips, millions of unspoken thoughts running through his mind all at once that he almost couldn't take it. What is this? He asked himself as he saw Harry look at him and smile warmly.
"Harry…" he whispered into the night, knowing already that the mirror Harry couldn't hear him, but he took another step forward, eyes looking into the green orbs on the other side of the mirror.
His mirror self took a step back and looked at him, his face happy and his smile genuine. His real self took another step forward, and reached out to touch the frame, looking into the mirror under the invisibility cloak.
He continued to stare at the figures looking back at him, and he took in a shuddering breath, feeling that familiar pang in his heart as he took another step forward, close enough so that he was staring right in front of the mirror.
He watched as Harry looked back at him, then suddenly, Harry's hand lifted from the green-eyed boys side, and pressed it to the glass on the mirror's side, looking into Draco's eyes the whole time he did so.
Draco felt his knees go weak at such an action that he felt his hand lift up from his side, and slowly, without thinking, he slowly reached out and put his palm flat unto the surface of the grand mirror – touching Harry's palm through the glass.
He felt something tingle up his spine seconds later before there was a white light, mixed with green and blue and yellow, and he felt himself being pulled against his will forward, and as much as he tried to pull back he couldn't. He closed his eyes at the sharp light and he could feel his feel creating friction, his heart beating madly, his fingers clenched together. He blacked out minutes later upon landing upon a hard wooden floor, his head hitting the floorboard and making a loud sickening sound.
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He opened his eyes moments later, breathing hard, looking around and wondering if it was a dream. His skin tingled in the room he was in, a room that looked familiar but he couldn't quite place his finger on it. He got up slowly on wobbly legs, his vision blurred slightly and he felt his head throb slightly, and he realized with a jolt that Harry's invisibility cloak wasn't on him. He looked down and searched the ground – not caring where he was or what just happened to him at the moment – but needing to find that cloak for it was his only comfort.
When he turned around to see if it dropped behind him or if it was around the room, his eyes caught hold of his reflection in the mirror and he gasped at what he saw.
He saw himself… only, he was alone this time. There was no Harry. There was no empty room. There was only him, looking back at himself. And the thing that almost made him faint again wasn't even close to what he imagined it would be.
Draco Malfoy wasn't staring at his thirty-one year old self in the mirror like he was minutes before, but instead, he was staring at his seventeen-year-old self, and he never saw his eyes so wide before in his life.
-----TBC-----
Chapter Two: Draco starts to learn what happened to him.
Notes: Yes, I will be finishing Lullaby of a Dragon, Don't worry… but this just screamed out to be written!!!
Please review… please. You'll learn what happens in the next chapter, I promise.
Chapter One Completed: October 31, 2002