Title: The Mirror Part Three
Author: Bell Pie >toggledog@yahoo.com>
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: R
Author's Notes: Thank you to all my reviewers. Please continue to do so. :)



Harry turns his pretty face to me, once the curator leaves.
"Come on, Draco. Let's go."


He grips my arm to pull me up. Anger curses through my veins and I place my hands on his chest, roughly pushing him back.

"Don't touch me, Potter! I'm not leaving with you!"

He runs his hands through his ruffled hair to the effect that when he releases, it sticks out all over his head. A tingle of pleasure overtakes me at this sight, exascerbating my anger.

I decide I would rather go back to Lucius than leave with Potter.

Pathetic Potter.

Stupid, bloody annoying idiotic stuck up tramp beautiful-

Hate him, hate him, hate him.

Good, Draco. Hold onto that.

You hate Harry Potter.

He's pretty, though. No, beautiful. He knows. I can't believe that he saw. That he got it out of me. But he doesn't need to be at an advantage. I take him by surprize as I jump against him, knocking my frame against his body and shoving him roughly against the wall. He gasps as his back roughly makes contact and pushes at me with his hands. I roughly kiss his mouth and throat.

But he isn't struggling too hard.

He is, however, not the runt he once was. Whereas he isn't a giant like Ron, at five foot eight, he is about three inches taller than me. This is when he does use force to push me back. I go sprawling. Both of us are strong and lean muscled, due to our Quidditch training. But I can't compete with those extra bloody three inches.

"Come on, Draco."

I stand and pout in the same fashion of when Lucius ordered me to go. I rarely disobey my father. To do so warrants more pain for me.

I'm Dirty Draco today.

Father's pet name.

Not far off Deranged Slut, really.

Harry leaves. I know this trick. Well, it won't work this time. It didn't work with Lucius. Does he really think it will therefore work with him? I catch up to him at the base of the building, favouring him with a glare.

I could never deny Harry Potter.

"Come on. I'll take you to Sirius."

"Sirius?" I scoff. " Why would I want to go to that-" The insult is interrupted by a familiar voice behind us.

"Harry?"

Oh great. It's the Weasel.

"What are you doing, Harry? Is he annoying you?" He steps before Harry, totally dwarfing him. Quite funny, really. He's double my size, height wize. After a session with him, I often end up with bruises all over. The ridiculous thing is that I don't think he means to hurt me. He's simply too much bigger than me. Isn't aware of his own strength. He often apologizes. Instant reaction, before he realises he has to hate me.

I usually have to spend the morning dissolving the bruises. If Daddy saw...

"Ron, why are you here?"

Momentary hurt washes over his face. "Hermione's just gone to buy a new set of quills." He looks to me as he speaks, very obviously examining my bleeding face.

What's wrong, Weasel? You could almost pass for concerned.

"Look, Ron..." Harry frowns. This is soon matched by Ron's.

"Something has come up. I hope you understand. I have to go."

Ron's frown deepens. "What's wrong, Harry?" He glances suspiciously at me.

"It's Sirius. I'm sorry, Ron. I can't tell you."

"What does it have to do with the Dragon?"

"That I also can't tell you."

Ron stares at him a moment, then stalks angrily down Diagon Alley, banging into a surprized warlock and not stopping to apologize. Harry opens his mouth as though to call after him, then utters a rather un-Harry like curse. He looks back to me.

Go on then. Back to the Weasel.

"I'm not taking 'No' for an answer. Draco, we're going to Sirius!"

I am dumbfounded a moment. He takes the opportunity to grab my hand. In an instant I am standing before a peeling yellow painted clapboard house with a wild, overgrown garden.

"What? WHAT ARE YOU DOING, POTTER?!" I launch myself at him, driving him to the ground, hitting at him with my hands, legs and feet.

Who does he think he is? How dare he! He manages to hold my hands.

"He can help you." He whispers.

What are you doing, Potter? You can't tell Sirius about this. Who the hell do you think you are?

Egotistical bastard.

"You can't tell him, Potter." He is partially lying on me, holding my hands together, legs covering my own, holding them down to prevent further injury to him. I opt for pleading, as anger isn't succeeding. "Please don't."

I lean forward to kiss him across the faxe. "You don't need to tell anyone. Why don't we have this as our little secret?"

I don't even know what I'm saying. Or doing. I just don't want him to tell anyone. He can't. No one can know.

It's bad enough that he knows.

"You can't tell anyone. Please."

If Lucius finds out, he'll kill me. So many threats.

Bastard. Damned bastard. Hurting Dirty Draco. Anguishing and humiliating him until he cries. Lucius is a master. He produces waterworks from Dirty Draco every time. Paining Dirty Draco until he begs him to stop. Telling him he can end his life whenever he feels. He's only important as his only heir.

Hate you, hate you, hate you, hate you.

No. don't hate you. Can't.

I love you, Daddy.

Special Draco. Our special relationship. Showering Special Draco with hugs and kisses. Then intimacy. Proving your love. Such intense passion. That I can feel such amazement.

What is wrong with me?

I'm about to cry in front of Harry. Again.

Twice in one day, Draco. You really are pathaetic.

"I'm sorry."

He kisses me. Softly, tenderly. As no one has before. As if I am wrought of the finest china.

When we release, he has tears in his eyes.

"Umm... what is going on here?" Harry stumbles up, a bright blush marring his cheek. I look up to the bemused face of Remus Lupin.

tbc...