Title: The Mirror Part Seven

Pairings: Harry/Draco, a little Remus/Severus and Oliver/Percy

Rating: R

Author’s Notes: Please R&R and tell me what you think- hope it’s not too confusing. :)

Should have killed the bastard years ago.

I am hardly a very compassionate man.

I cannot tolerate Harry Potter, Dumbledore’s constant ignorance of the real issues at stake, Gryffindor in general, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, turning against my own convictions to spy for a group I happily left twenty years before....

Admittedly, there are a lot of things I cannot endure.

Above all else, Draco’s muffled sobs replaying over and over in my mind as a broken wizardphone, have convinced me that the world, indeed, smothers what light can seep through the inky blackness of despair.

The Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs wear obscured lenses through which to look upon the globe, much like the ones on Harry Potter’s own face. They live in a fantasy land where dreams can coalesce with reality if one only tries. The Slytherins know truth. In this desert of lost and ugly souls, clawing at each other for a glimpse of the light, there only is oneself and ones own ambition.

How could he enact that upon his own son? I cannot shake the burnt imprint in my mind of all the horrors I have been witness to. It seems, no matter how I try, I cannot numb my already withered and beaten soul to every harsh blow that is thrust upon it.

Certainly, I did not have any inkling of his predisposition, particularly in regards to Draco. I am never one to accompany Lucius back to the Malfoy manshion with the others once the Death Eater meetings are complete. After spending precious moments with such determinable swine, I often feel the absolute need for a scolding bath.

I apparated to the house under Dumbledore’s direction. Of course, the Malfoy’s have the place jinxed and enchanted to nary allow a spider to crawl onto the front porch without departing its very short mortal coil. Lucius has always been, however, predictable. His narcissism negates him. The ‘best’ is often the easiest to manipulate, in my experience. This includes house protection. Lucius spent thousands of galleons on Flying Security Trolls from Advanced Wizard Security Services. I was able to concoct a potion to temporarily paralyze them within two days. For my part, I paid a little less for my security, going to a less disputable source.

As of yet, no one has ever broken into my house.

After breaking through the enchantments to the Malfoy residence, I apparated to what I thought was Lucius and Narcissa’s bathroom. The distinct groans and rocking in the room opposite clenched my stomach in disgust and I redoubled my efforts to find the potion I had been ordered to steal.

Noble Dumbledore ordering the theft of an article right from the supplier’s house. His hypocrisy often weaves its own personal enchantment around me. It is incredible to fathom such duplicity in the great wizard.

I rummaged through the cupboard, desperate to find the substance and leave, knocking over aftershave, hairspray, toothpaste, combs, liquids and pastes, a veritable arsenal of haircare and skincare products. No little bottle labeled ‘Hycinth’, however. I slammed the vanity door shut and took a few breaths. This didn’t make sense. My research had been very clear. Lucius kept the substance that was to be the key ingredient for a potion for immortality for the Death Eaters in his bathroom vanity cupboard.

The thought occurred that he had hidden it. Yes, that made sense. He possibly didn’t tell Narcissa about this little creation in the making. This would mean-

The noises in the adjoining room abruptly ceased, but for the unmistakable sound of. Yes, is that...? That couldn’t be-?

A little high pitched, shuddering.

Crying. Not crying. Sobs. I stepped up to the bathroom door and pressed my ear against it. Lucuis’ unmistakable voice.

"I will not tolerate my son having relations with the enemy."

I did not even realize I still had hold of one of the glass bottles of hair shine enhancement-Draco’s hair shine enhancement, from Draco’s bathroom, not Lucius’- until it dropped from my hand, sending glass shards across the floor and splashing muddy brown liquid across my shoes. I did not even hear the sharp tinkle across the marble tiles.

I did not move for a long time.

Lucius just

I don’t want to comprehend it. Surely it can’t be true. This is simply NONSENSICAL! It is INCONGRUOUS TO ALL THAT IS RATIONAL!

Errant thoughts designed to smash through my denial, presented me with proof. Odd rumours, Draco’s own less than remarkable behavior.

The anger finally arrived.

Not anger. Fury, deep boiling hatred unlike I have ever experienced. Hate so overpowering I was scarcely in control of my own actions. I completely overrode my purpose for being there. I was not meant to involve the family at all. Instead, I dragged Lucius out of bed, forgoing magic in favor of my fists. Narcissa’s scream was abruptly cut off as I point my wand at her, quickly immobilizing her.

I dragged Lucius back into the bathroom, where I had fixed up the bruises he had felt right to bestow on his own son.

Yes, created a right Royal mess, Snape.

Lucuis and Narcissa won’t remember the events of the past two or three hours. Nor will Draco.

But I will. The crawling, bloodied and bruised body of my favourite student is forever etched in my mind.

He stares at me now, face twisted in elegant distane, brows creased in confusion.

"Professor Snape! Where am I?"

I do not answer. I am waiting.

"What is going on?" He urges, more strongly.

Could I have known? I should have known. I must have. Why didn’t I save him? Why didn’t I go charging in like a great heroic nob in the novels I sometimes spy hidden under sheets of paper in Dumbledore’s office?

Lucius. My acquaintance from highschool. Did he show any signs of his illness even then? My head is pounding. Someone has taken their Firebolt directly to my scull, repeatedly whacking. I can almost hear it.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Lucius Malfoy just raped his own son.

It is comforting that Remus Lupin apparates now, or I would have surely started to tear the place up. I have never enacted such a travesty before and am already inwardly cringeing in supplication.

I sneer at the sight of Harry Potter beside him and seal my lips from a comment involving ditching his black haired lover for a much younger boy.

"Where is the esteemed Sirius Black, Lupin?"

He regards me with his wonderful hazel eyes. "He is of no present concern, Severus."

The young Potter sits awkwardly before Draco, who has lost his disdain for mere confusion. Lupin gracefully strides over to Draco as I curse myself for the sudden jump in heart rate.

Curse that infernal dirty wolf!

I cannot contain my eyes. They wonder unbeckoned down his form. I find myself tutting the worn and mended robes. Though I have an affinity for black, I slowly redress Lupin in my mind. I opt for gold with silver lining, highlighting the honey of his hair and gold specks in his eyes. Or perhaps something a little darker. I look down at my own black robes. Yes, they would highlight the paleness of his flesh. While certainly not alabaster like Draco-

I shake my head of such distracting thoughts.

"Draco-" Lupin begins, kneeling before him. "I am going to talk to you about your father. Is that alright?"

None of us see it coming. One moment Lupin is plaintively before his former student and the next he is on the ground, coughing mothballs, with Draco standing, his wand before him.

I inwardly groan in realization of Draco being on the defensive.

Oliver Wood is beautiful.

I am not the only one that recognizes this.

Though some don’t say such things out loud, it is obvious from their shocked stares and angered words upon seeing him on my arm. They simply cannot believe that little Percy Weasley would bag the Hogwarts Quidditch captain.

He is, of course, past that now. Both of us were offered a place in the secret Hogwarts University, in the school but in a slightly different dimension. Both of us refused. I think it pained Oliver to let go of his Quidditch fascination. The boy is obsessed. He even flies in his sleep, gripping the handle of an imaginary Firebolt.

He is thankfully not enacting such hilarity now. My beauty is simply sleeping peacefully. That is a relief for me. Many a time at night, he cries out in his sleep. He does not explain in the morning. He does not need to.

Both of us are well aware of his past.

I snuggle closer, resting my head against his broad chest. He distractedly flings an arm around me, murmuring.

"Percy..."

Two vowels. How wonderful they sound from his lips.

"Love you, Oliver."

I smile, content in the knowledge that this night is free from the horrors of his history.

tbc...

AN:

Ok, there it is. I will explain more as we go along, but please review! Little button down there. ;). Next chapter, back to more H/D smut, as well as R/Snape tension. ;P

And let me just add my amazement of actor Sean Biggerstaff. I didn’t think much of Oliver Wood in the books but found him utterly cute, charming and funny in the film of Harry Potter.

Oh, and Emmanulie, on my Author's page is the link to where the completed version of 'Rumours' is. Enjoy. ;)