Author's Notes: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Furthermore, this story IS slash, so if this type of thing is not to your liking, please do not bother to read on and don't waste your or my time with a 'precocious' review. When I say that, yes, I am being sarcastic.

Bete Noire

If I close my eyes tight enough, the sunlight can't get in anymore.

And even though it still floods my body, if I wrap my arms around myself, it can't hit me anymore.

Or so I'd like to believe. Bugger.

I'm nobody. Who are you?

Are you nobody, too?

Then there's a pair of us - don't tell!

They'd banish us, you know!

Blaise Zabini ran into the sweltering Slytherin common room. It was about a hundred degrees outside, yet Draco and Pansy still sat in the cushy armchairs, reading quietly. Just looking at the two of them, sinking into the hot, scratchy material made Blaise feel even hotter. His own tie was dangling from his pockets and his robes were falling off his shoulders. He figured that the teachers wouldn't care anymore: it was, after all, the last day of school.

"Draco!" Blaise said, running up to the pair of them.

"Mmm?"

"There's something going on in the Great Hall. Come and see."

"What is it?" asked Draco, idly turning the page. More often than not, Zabini missed the mark of things entirely. It was better to make sure first.

"Come and see!"

"Just tell me what it is, first."

Right at that moment, Pansy made a scoffing noise in her throat. "It's stupid, is what it is. Dumbledore's idea of a treat for the students."

Draco sat up with interest. The old man might be a senile bugger with his senses where his navel should be but he thought a treat from Dumbledore for the entire school (instead of just those damned Gryffindors) might prove to be very interesting indeed. And if nothing, at least he could exercise his authority of being Prefect one last time by yelling at a couple of snot-faced second years. OK, not so bad.

"Lead the way," he said, closing the book with a flourish.

Pansy saved herself from the cushy armchair that was about to swallow her. "But I said it was rubbish!"

Draco yawned widely. "You think everything is rubbish. You thought the Prefect's bathroom was rubbish, but I proved you wrong, didn't I?"

Pansy turned pink at the rather embarrassing memory. "Shut up. You didn't prove me wrong...Peter Attwood did." She put down her book and put her school shirt over tank top she had been lounging in. "Let's go."

"Peter Attwood? That tiny Ravenclaw?" Blaise said in confusion, as he followed Draco and Pansy.

Draco snorted. "Tiny in every sense of the word."

"Draco?" Pansy almost sighed.

"Yes?" said Draco sagely. He knew what was coming.

"Shut up."

"OK."

"So what exactly is it?" asked Seamus uncertainly.

Hermione opened her mouth to speak but it was Ron who answered first. "Actually, it's really cool! You look into it and you see whatever you want."

Seamus snorted. "Sounds stupid to me. Why would I want to see what I want? As if I don't already know."

Hermione rolled her eyes at Ron. "Ron's a little less than efficient in explaining. When you stand within gazing perimeter, visions of your most profound aspiration come into view. Ones you never even knew you had. But -" she hesitated.

"But what?"

"But nothing of what you see necessarily comes true. It doesn't give truth. Or reality. And it's not even like a parallel reality. Nothing that is changed within the mirror exists in real life. What you see could happen."

"So," Seamus turned to the giant ornate mirror, " in non-hermione-terms are you saying that if I looked in this mirror I would see exactly what I want, that I didn't know I wanted, but don't have?"

"Er," said Ron, "Sure."

"Wicked! So I'd be able to see myself sitting on a throne with skimpy girls fanning me and feeding me grapes while I watch a Muggle circus!"

Ron and Hermione stared.

"What?" shrugged Seamus. "Is wanting to see a Muggle circus that bad?"

Hermione tried to look scandalized but failed because Ron's gagging expression at Seamus's desires was too much for her.

"Didn't your dumpy mother ever tell you that if you make a face like that, it'd stay that way?"

Ron turned around in a flash. Hermione froze to the spot and shut her eyes as she recognized the slick voice. Oh, great. This is exactly what we need on the last day of school.

Ron's face twisted in anger. "Malfoy! Don't you dare say anything about my mother, you -"

"Although," continued Malfoy in a loud voice, "I suppose it must be an improvement to the usual. Let's ask the Mudblood. Is it an improvement, Mudblood?"

There was a pause as Pansy snickered and Hermione tried to ignore them.

"Apologize, Malfoy."

Hermione's eyes opened, even more painfully perhaps, than they had closed. Harry. She turned around, not even daring to do so. There, behind Malfoy and his two flunkies, stood Harry, eyes flashing dangerously, wand gripped tightly in hand. Malfoy, Pansy Parkinson and Zabini all turned around to face Harry at the same time. They were on either side of him and both slightly shorter. Like a really bad cowboy movie, Hermione thought.

"No, you know what, Potter? I don't think I will," Malfoy said, with the air of one commenting on the weather. "But you're welcome to try and make me." Malfoy's eyes narrowed maliciously. Ooh, this would be fun.

Harry let himself get all worked up about Malfoy's crude expression as the latter stared him down. The injustice of Malfoy and just his mere presence was making the blood pound in his ear and it took his all to not launch himself upon the pointy, pasty boy in front of him. "I'm not going to try," Harry said quietly. His voice was strained and his knuckles were white from clenching his wand so tightly. "You're just going to do it."

At Malfoy's side, Blaise Zabini laughed unpleasantly.

Malfoy smirked. "Go on then, Potter. Make my day. No really, please go ahead."

Harry stared at Malfoy, a muscle in his jaw twitching like hell. Stupid Malfoy! It was only a bastard like him who would be...bastard-y enough to ruin the last day of school. Harry wished that he could have the nasty creature on his feet, in bloody hell and pain and begging for mercy while everyone looked on at his humiliation and they pointed and laughed and Malfoy would crawl at Ron's feet and...

His eyes narrowed painfully and Harry worked up an irrational idea that was aimed entirely at Malfoy's cowardice.

Or ego, whichever way you looked at it.

Draco fingered his Prefect badge. "If his Highness, the Boy-Who-Had-The-Slowest-Brain-Processing-Time, would perhaps make a move on, I could get this over with and on with more important things."

"Serpensortia."

Harry uttered the spell so quietly, it was barely audible. But it was enough.

Both Draco and Hermione's eyes widened as the words that left Harry's mouth struck a deep chord in the back of their minds. Hermione looked around and saw that everyone else was rather oblivious to what had just happened.

And perhaps what was going to.

Oh Harry, don't be stupid...

At the end of Harry's wand burst an ugly cobra, it's coils of sheen undulating slowly as it advanced forward, like a sickening hypnotic dance. Suddenly it stood stock still, the only sign of life, it's flickering tongue.

A sudden hissing sound filled the Entrance Hall, taking advantage of the extreme silence between the students and every nook and cranny of the ceiling above. The result was the hissing sounded out twice as loud than expected.

Draco stared hard at Harry, his eyes still as wide as ever. His brain stopped functioning as he watched the unearthly hissing issuing from Harry's mouth.

Of all the spells that Harry could have chosen, he picked this one. Draco's terror wasn't allowing him to figure out why exactly; the cobra was suddenly moving, on Harry's command he supposed. Because Harry was commanding it. With Parseltongue.

It snapped at Draco, revealing it's sharp fangs and moving forward as Pansy and Blaise backed away from it. Potter just wouldn't have the guts to do it. He was Harry Potter, after all, Great Protector of truth and goodness. The thing wouldn't actually hurt him.

But if it was one thing he had learnt from his father it was to never underestimate his enemy.

If it was Longbottom, maybe underestimation would be a little mandatory.

The hissing filled the Hall again, a little less ferociously perhaps, but egged the cobra on nonetheless. Hermione snapped out of her sudden stupor and let go of Ron's robes. She rushed a little in front of Malfoy, slightly annoyed at the gaping expressions of students around her. Malfoy was eyeing the thing in horror, his mouth wide open. Honestly, was she the only one sensing the impending danger here?

"Harry! Stop it, Harry, Malfoy isn't worth it," Hermione said earnestly

Harry ignored her.

Oh. Well, screw that plan.

The cobra stopped and blinked at her. Hermione looked at it nervously as Harry hissed at it once more. She took the sudden stop in its motion as the chance to talk.

"Harry Potter, you stop this instant! You're being stupid, with no regard for anyone but your own blind rage. You forget there are other people in this Hall too, hoping for a break from you and Malfoy so be merciful and give it to them! And you're shamelessly exploiting your own self, is this what you've come down to!"

Even through his shell shock, Draco spared half a thought on Hermione's always-sudden outbursts.

"Finite Incantatum." Hermione pointed to the malicious, hissing cobra before anyone could respond. It burst into black and gold sparks.

A pause.

Harry blinked and lowered his wand.

With a very business-like air, Hermione walked over to him and pulled the silent Harry with her towards Ron. As she passed Malfoy, she turned her nose in the air. Malfoy, Pansy and Zabini gaped at her in surprise as she sauntered passed them.

Ron came to, as Hermione pulled Harry along. "Well, it's not a free show, you know. Move along there, now," he yelled to a couple of frightened looking first years. And Seamus and Dean started shooing the large crowd away. Although, now most stayed because of the presence of the forgotten Mirror. But their attention was quickly diverted.

Hermione let go of Harry arm as she brought him to Ron. Ron gaped at his best friend. "Harry. That was...just...that...no need to get so angry, mate."

Harry snorted. "Your one to talk. If Hermione wouldn't have held you back, you'd be up to your own eyeballs in something we all call deep shit."

"What's that supposed to mean? I could take on Malfoy any day!"

Hermione ignored Ron. "Harry. It's not good to get so angry."

"Yeah well, I've had to deal with him all bloody year -"

"Yes, but you're not the only one, Harry. We all hate Malfoy," Hermione cut in.

" -And I did consider cold blooded murder but then I figured I'd let the snake do it for me instead. After all, it might affect my school record, murder might." Harry gave a little sanctimonious nod towards Hermione.

Ron burst out laughing.

Hermione hid her smile. At least he was back in good humor. "Oh, shut it, Ron. Harry, that's not funny, you know. That's not funny at all."

"Yeah, OK, I know. I won't get so worked up next time." He waved his hand carelessly. "And you're there when I do," he leaned in conspiratorially, "so I you can cover up all my footsteps once I'm done."

Hermione whacked him lightly.

Harry and Ron grinned. After all, it was Hermione that came up with the master plans.

Suddenly, Professor McGonagall came into the Hall. "Attention all students. Gather around and listen very carefully."

The curious crowd of milling students ranging from every year gathered obediently up to Professor McGonagall.

"As you can see, Professor Dumbledore has set up in the great Hall a mirror. It is the end-of-year-treat that he had promised you all, and, needless to say, he has kept up to it. Now this mirror is no ordinary mirror. It's enchanted. Can anyone tell me how?"

Harry now shifted his attention to his right, where everyone seemed to be looking. He didn't need the dull shine of the surface or the letters upon the top of the carving to tell him what the mirror was. How many nights had he hungrily sat in front of it, gazing at his parents, trying to commit their every detail to memory? His mother's smile, the way in which his father's eyes crinkled up slightly when he grinned. Or the oval shape of his mother's face. Or his father's long nose, identical to his.

It was the Mirror of Erised.

He clearly remembered Dumbledore's words.

"Yes, Mr. Potter?"

Harry tore his gaze from the mirror as the students around him turned their attention back to him. He was surprised to find his hand in the air, as he almost never volunteered information.

"The happiest man on earth would look into the mirror and see himself exactly as he is. This mirror is known as the Mirror of Erised. When we look into it, the mirror shows us nothing more or less than our deepest desires." He glanced once more at the mirror, as though entranced.

Professor McGonagall nodded at his rare participation. "Very good, yes, Potter you're right."

"But," Harry continued slowly, "The mirror isn't a source of truth. And it's not necessarily reality. Men - men have gone mad and have wasted themselves staring into it."

Professor McGonagall gazed at him oddly and nodded once more. "Excellent, Potter. This is completely true." She smiled wryly. "I would award you House Points, but seeing as Gryffindor has already won the House Cup..." Her eyes twinkled at Harry. The Gryffindors grinned at her and Harry turned his head to shoot Malfoy a triumphant leer.

As usual, Draco was there to counter Harry's look with a sneer of his own.

"So, in short, the mirror shows us our deepest desires," Professor McGonagall coughed before she went on. "Our fancies."

Draco grinned. How very amusing. McGonagall was trying to be scandalous.

"So," she continued briskly, "form a line and you will all get a chance to look into the Mirror of Erised." More out of sheer curiosity than anything else, students got into as straight a line as they could, considering the heat.

"Ooh. I can't wait to look into the Mirror," Hermione confided to Harry and Ron. "I wonder what I'll see."

"Probably your marriage to Madam Pince," snorted Ron.

"Ron! Honestly, just because we both appreciate magical literature as a medium doesn't say anything at all," Hermione said waspishly. "And I'll have you know that if I weren't on such good terms with her, the Restricted Section would still be quite Restricted."

"Well I never asked you to go looking in there, did I now?"

Harry rolled his eyes as his two best friends started to argue again. It ticked him off to no end that even after they had reached a point in their argument, they'd still continue affectionately, though there was obviously no use for it. He didn't understand why they didn't just come out and say it. It wasn't as if they had to contend with being gay or anything complicated like that.

" - Yes but you were the one who said the Muggle Prime Minister was a Squib. And that turned out to be collywobbles, didn't it?" Hermione was saying now.

Collywobbles?

"Well, it was your fault for starting that entire discussion. If you didn't comment on Errol, I would've shut up and said nothing at all," Ron said nonchalantly.

From Errol to the Muggle Prime Minister. That's it, they are officially bloody mental.

"Hey, I heard that Harry. Who're you calling mental?" Ron said as he tore off from the conversation, er, argument, with Hermione.

Harry smiled weakly and shook his head. Apparently he'd said it aloud.

Seamus turned back and grinned at them. "Alright. Wish me luck."

"Er, for what?" Ron asked.

But Seamus had already stepped up to the Mirror. As Dean engaged them in conversation, Harry let his attention wander to the Mirror. After Seamus was done, it would be Dean, and then Hermione. Then Ron. Then...him.

All of a sudden, Harry didn't want to be here. He didn't want to have to look into the Mirror. It wasn't as though he was frightened to see them - again. But -

But what?

But something. He didn't know. All he knew, was that he had to leave, had to get out of the stuffy Entrance Hall. Because if he stayed here one minute longer, he would surely collapse and then stupid, git-y Malfoy would never let him hear then end of it.

A combination wave of nausea and claustrophobia overtook Harry's senses and he ducked out of line, not daring to speak. Trusting that Ron and Hermione wouldn't miss him too much, he walked past the swiftly growing line, loosening his tie and shrugging off his robes as he went. Reaching the stairs, he broke out into a sort of desperate jog with no real destination. He'd deal with what the bloody hell was going on later. Right now, he just needed to get away.

Only one person noticed. With narrowed eyes.

Draco Malfoy.

"Harry, mate, where'd you go off to?" Ron said as he entered the Gryffindor Common Room. He flung his robe on one of the tables and joined his best friend on the cushy sofa.

"Oh. I -" Damn it. He hadn't thought up an excuse yet.

Just then, Hermione came in as well. "Harry. We were looking everywhere. Where were you?"

Why were you looking everywhere? Harry wanted to ask. But he couldn't. So instead he said, "Oh."

Hermione flopped down on the other side of Harry and leaned into the squishy sofa. "Bloody hell, I'm knackered."

Ron stared at her. "Bloody hell? That's it. I was right! You're becoming way too influenced by me and Harry."

Harry noted that they seemed to not want an answer from him, so he gratefully shut up. He leaned back and closed his eyes as well. It was a nice feeling to sit here. Nice but strange. It had been a hard five years and Harry could hardly believe he'd made it this far. Alive. They all sat together in comfortable, companionable silence. Dull afternoon sunlight was filtering into the gloriously empty Common Room and for some reason Harry thought this was the perfect moment for someone to say something philosophical.

"Let's make a pact," he said.

Hermione turned her head towards him. "A pact?"

Ron rolled his eyes. "Don't tell me you don't know what a pact is. Even I know what a pact is. Even Crabbe knows what a pact is, O-Esteemed-Walking-Human-Dictionary."

Hermione sighed. "Ron?"

"Yeah?"

"Shut up."

"OK."

"What were you saying Harry?" Hermione asked again.

Harry sighed inwardly. Truth was, he was still slightly at unrest about the Mirror. He wanted to see them. But not with everyone looking. He wanted to see them alone. It was his sole time with them. What if he got emotional (oh dear god, he hoped not!) He didn't need any more people ogling at him, thank you very much. "I said, I have to go and pack. See you guys later."

Hermione said nothing as she watched Harry get up and leave. Oh dear. She slapped Ron's arm.

"Ow!" Ron said, rubbing it. "What in blue blazes was that for?"

"For being insensitive and ruining the moment like you always do," she said as she stalked off to the girls' dorms.

"Hey! What's that supposed to mean?"

Leaving a very confused Ron, who was still cradling his arm.

Harry stayed awake as he heard the last trickle of people filter into their dorms for the last night of the year. At first, he had panicked, thinking that perhaps Seamus, Dean and Neville would want to stay up, as this was their last night together. But, thankfully, they had all fallen asleep an hour earlier.

And now, at about 2 a.m in the morning, Harry had come up with a little plan, the result of a sudden whim.

He wanted to go and see his parents. For the last time.

For the first time.

So, just before curfew, Harry had checked that the Mirror was still there before making his way back to the Tower. Then he'd got into bed, feigning exhaustion. Once everyone was asleep, he figured he would don his trusty Invisibility Cloak and leave. Considering the Mirror was still there.

Harry drew the curtains of his four-poster and silently stepped out. He shot a tentative look at Ron, who was snoring peacefully. He remembered, with a smile, how he had thought that the Mirror was a device to look at people's family members.

But Ron had seen something completely different.

The Fat Lady eyed him suspiciously, even though Harry was well under the Cloak. What with him sneaking out so often, she had long since come to realize that someone in the Tower must be the culprit. Now all she had to do was figure out whom; for no apparent reason really. It would just give her something to occupy her otherwise dreary time, with.

As was his habit, Harry slowly made his way down to the Entrance Hall. Even though he was well under the Cloak, he didn't want to have to run into a) Filch's cat, Mrs. Norris, whom he was sure could see through invisibility cloaks and b) Snape, who was already on to him.

The Entrance Hall was dimly lit with only a few of the bright fire sconces on the walls for light. The moonlight was filtering in from the open door to the Great Hall and Harry could just make out the dull glint of the brass mirror. Shrugging his Cloak off, he reached into his pocket to pull out his wand.

The moonlight made everything seem a little too surreal.

"Lumos," he whispered.

All at once, a bright light stemmed from the tip of his wand, like the backside of a glowworm. Harry stepped in front of the mirror, his breath only slightly hitched in anticipation -

His parents.

He could see them again.

And perhaps they'd say something to him. Like. Like at the graveyard.

Stop, stop, stop. They're not real, they can't speak to you. And let's just leave the graveyard alone, alright?

Lovely. Now he was talking to himself. Just lovely.

Harry took a tentative step forward and -

Shit!

Malfoy.

There was Malfoy's reflection in the Mirror. He must have followed Harry all the way here. And Harry hadn't even noticed! The blond git was staring defiantly back at him and the malicious grin said "Hah! Even if it was the end of the year, I still managed to catch you at something."

Shit shit shit. Double shit. No, quadruple shit.

Slowly, Harry wheeled around. He was done for. Bloody, nosey Malfoy. Why couldn't he keep his stupid, long nose out of Harry's business. Trying to think up a worthy insult, Harry turned around.

But the Hall was empty.

The sconces on the wall didn't whoosh with a sudden breeze, as he knew they would if someone had been there only moments before.

His rippling silver Cloak had not been disturbed by anything.

Harry's mind was tripping over itself as it worked painfully fast. What the bloody hell was going on? What was Malfoy trying to pull?

One minute he was there, and then, very deftly Harry had to admit, he was gone. Harry stared wildly around the Entrance Hall. There were no nooks and crannies in the Entrance Hall that Malfoy could hide in that wasn't already bathed in moonlight. Not really expecting him to be there, Harry left his Cloak and peeked into the Great Hall.

But all he saw were the stars twinkling at him from the ceiling. He scowled at them for no particular reason.

Bloody Malfoy. What a complete, bloody, sodding -

Wait a minute.

Harry approached the Mirror carefully, his wand tip still alight. Yes, there was his reflection as it was supposed to be. He was looking pale and vulnerable in his oversized jumper. There was his arm holding his wand. And his unruly hair making for weird shadows in the moonlight.

And then, the reflection in the Mirror, rippled a little. At first, Harry had thought nothing had changed. There was the Entrance Hall, the beams of moonlight, the flickering sconces on the wall. The open door to the Great Hall.

But on closer inspection, he saw that the figure in the reflection wasn't him anymore.

It was Draco Malfoy.

Draco Malfoy, dressed in full Hogwarts robes, fingering his Prefect badge as he often did nowadays.

No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no - went the chant in Harry's head.

He whipped around once more to see - surprise, surprise - nobody, no Malfoy, nothing.

Yet when he cringingly turned back to the Mirror, there was Malfoy. With his idiotic grin. Bastard. Bastard, bastard, bastard, bastard, the chant in Harry's head changed.

How could it be? How could it be that this was happening!

Malfoy wasn't here. Now. He just couldn't be. Unless he had an Invisibility Cloak of his own. But no, that couldn't be right either. Any normal answer to his question seemed to elude Harry as most of his burning questions had a tendency to do (like why was Voldemort after him in the first place!) That question was highly inconsequential now.

Unlike before, Harry's mind was now working very slowly, almost unwilling to take in what seemed so completely stupid. Im-bloody-possible!

The thing he desired most was -

Draco Malfoy.

Author's Notes: Oh dear. Hah. Reviews are appreciated, even one word like "urgh", "blah", "super cool", "have my love child!" whatever. Many thanks.