Title: The Mirror
Author: Bell Pie >toggledog@yahoo.com>
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: R
Warning: I've decided to (as realistically as I can) deal with incest in this one and the reactions thereof of the victim. Therefore, allusions to rape and masochistic as well as sadistic behaviour. If this offends PLEASE TURN AROUND NOW
Author's Notes: This is for my followers of 'Rumours', an angsty Harry/Draco fic with typical angsty Draco and concerned Harry. Oh, and Ron lovers won't like this.


Of all people

It has to be him.

I would have desired anyone else.

Even that bloody Weasley.

Or the mudblood bitch.

He looks shocked to see me. The supple mouth opens, closes. He readjusts his glasses.

"Draco?"

No. I'm not him. I've never been him

Not really.

That was why I came here. To find out who I am.

Seventeen year old Death Eater? Student at Hogwarts? Tenth generation Slytherin?

Other people seem to know. To Potter I am a bastard. To Weasley, I am a deranged slut.

Wasn't that what he said, after our last session?

Yes, he took the deranged slut. Once a week. During the day he would profess his love for the mudblood and at night he would throw me against the wall in our abandoned classroom in the far off reaches of Hogwarts and have me. It was always rough. it was always painful.

I always initiated.

I looked to the pretty face peering down intently to me.

Did you know your best friend fucks your arch nemesis?

He kneels in front of me. I want to tell him to leave, to lash out at him in typical Malfoy fashion. But I can't. I'm too weakened. He lifts my face, his own alight with concern.

Yes, Potter, I know how hideous I look. I am aware of the cuts and bruises on my face. Quite a change from my usual appearance, huh, Potter? I know you notice me. It's alright. I do realize you want me.

But don't think you can have me. You will never have me. Understand?

Not the Boy who Lived.

Ron, Marcus, the others.

I get to be in control. Can you comprehend that? Perhaps not. I don't even think I do.

It's not about sex. I don't even like sex. In fact, I hate it.

I don't want to like it.

Some of them want me to enjoy it as well.

"Beautiful, beautiful boy."

Seamus had wanted me to take him. It felt like nothing. Even my own climax was as enthralling as watching muggles cooking.

Oliver Wood had been the most disconcerting. Ron and Marcus originally wanted to enact the 'Lubricous' spell on me but did not follow through when I forcibly insisted they not use it.

I wanted it to be as painful as possible for me.

Oliver, however, would not back down. I fought him. I bit, hit, kicked. He wrapped his big arms around me and hugged me so I couldn't move my own arms. I swore at him and called him every name I could think of. He let me go and favoured me with the look Potter gives me now.

I gave him a black eye.

"What happened, Draco?" He wipes my fringe away from my face.

I flinch.

I don't like these touches. I want him to leave.

The others roughly thrusting into me, tearing me, bloodying me inside. That is pain I can endure. That is suffering that validates my reality.

In my world of agony, I am Draco Malfoy.

I exist.

He looks to the mirror before me.

"What do you see?" I ask, numbly.

Harry Potter. Universally loved Quidditch champion. Defeater of Voldemort. What would he desire?

He bends down and takes my hand once more. I read hurt in his beautiful green eyes.

Good. Let him suffer as much as I have suffered.

Did you know, Potter? My first year at Hogwarts. That was when it started.

Daddy wasn't too pleased with Harry Potter turning me down.

Potter was the only one that I had after Seamus.

And this one I did on my own terms.

It was too easy. A subtle build up. A few suggestive words.

By the time we reached the tower he was pawing at me.

He had been a virgin. I could tell. That wasn't surprising.

Harry Potter. Too damned innocent.

And it had been... different, somehow.

I allowed him to kiss me on the lips. I allowed him to touch my hair and face. He was gentle with me. As I was with him. Perhaps that was why I was so cruel with him, after. He had some how taken my control. That could not happen. I told him he was nothing.

Just a fuck.

Of course, he told Weasley. Came crying to him. Well, Weasley's under my control now, Potter. What do you think of that?

"I hate you, Malfoy."

Good. I am relieved by that.

"I see us. You and me together. How can that be? How can I see someone I hate so much?"

Liar. Perhaps he doesn't even see his own culpability. I want to hurt him more, reach my hand in and curl my fingers around his heart, pull it out, inch by inch, have him screaming and-

"You're bleeding."

Yes, I am.

Did you know, Harry? That's what happens when-

No. Don't think. Don't think. Don't think.

It's been going on too long.

His face softens once more. He's beautiful. He truly is.

"Why do you do this to yourself?"

No. Don't be nice. Hate me. Please hate me. I don't deserve your pity or your sympathy. A tear splashes down my cheek.

He looks amazed. Yes, Harry Potter gets to see Draco Malfoy cry. My humiliation further extends.

"Why do you let them hurt you?"

It isn't them. It has never been them. It is always him. Countless thrusting bodies. All carrying the same grey eyes, silver hair.

He tells me that he loves me. I am everything to him. His beautiful son.

I want to throw up. I lean over and projectile vomit all of the ice cream he used to bribe me to his torture this time.
What will it be next week, Daddy? A new fire bolt. Hmm... well I already have one. You'll have to do better than that.

Potter... Harry's stroking my back now.

"They'll close up, soon."

That's true.

And Lucius will come back for me. He will see my bloodied and bruised face. It will make him angry. He likes his son beautiful at all times.

You were right, Harry. He didn't do this. I did.

The Mirror of Esired. It was meant to show me my desires. My most heart felt need. What did I see? I smashed my forehead into the glass, pummelling at it with my fists, then repeatedly mashed my cheeks against it, wanting to smash it, to smash me. To change the image.

What image?

I saw nothing at all. No reflection. Just inky blackness.

Clipped footsteps echo down the varnished floors. Harry and I freeze. I turn swiftly to him. it's Lucius. If he-

Harry has gone. Disappeared. My heart starts to throb in my chest. Just like the mirror. I don't exist. And now he doesn't.

"Harry?"

I need him near. I grope on the ground, to assert that it exists. If can feel the rough, grainy wood. if I can just hold onto that.

Harry, where have you gone?

"Draco!" My father steps into the room.

tbc...