ðHgeocities.com/owrai_fics1/3some/mirror.htmgeocities.com/owrai_fics1/3some/mirror.htmdelayedxHkÔJÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÿÈpn²OKtext/htmlQûiβÿÿÿÿb‰.HSun, 29 Jun 2003 00:38:30 GMTmMozilla/4.5 (compatible; HTTrack 3.0x; Windows 98)en, *GkÔJ²


the bottom!draco emporium-- Mirror Title: Mirror
Author: Tzigane
Rating: R
Summary: Can't be explained, you'll have to read it




He's never understood anything that happened. It's just as well. I don't think he's ever going to be ready for that sort of understanding. It defies what he thinks he is and what he thinks I am. He wakes in the morning, kisses me, rises and showers for work. While he bathes and changes into jeans and t-shirt to wear under his robe, I rise and cook breakfast. He eats and kisses me again, fingers tangling in my apron strings, and then he's gone, leaving me to wash up the morning dishes, leaving me alone for the day. When he comes home, he wants to kiss me again, have supper and spend the evening studying before tumbling into bed to make love to me so gently I could scream.

This is not what I thought my life would be.

Thank God for Severus's visits. If it weren't for him, if it weren't for the chance to use sharp words and wit, if it weren't for the occasional good hard *fuck* slammed over the loveseat with my face buried in the cushions so that I can barely breathe as his hipbones tattoo bruises into me, I'd go mad.

By the time he comes home, the scent of sex has faded, the sharp smell of potions is gone and he never, ever leaves the candles lit. The bruises are always missed.

I feel no guilt or shame about what I do. Those are words that have always applied to others. Fear, I have felt, and want and need and *pride*, but never those others. Sometimes, I feel nervous. Sometimes, I fear that he'll realize that I'm not some sweet china doll fit only for fucking and housework. Sometimes, I fear that he will walk in while Severus is making me scream and writhe with such frantic need.

Sometimes, I hope that he will, and that the imagery of me in pink ruffled apron with a plate of bacon in hand will be shattered.

It will never happen.

Even if he walked in and saw it, he would think that it was Imperio or perhaps some form of Memory charm to make me forget who was supposed to live with me. He would never think that it was my fault, and Severus would join Father in Azkaban and life would sink further into the numbing mindless morass of days spent staring bleakly out the living room window wishing that things were they way they had been before, when there were two of us, mirror images, opposite and balanced, sexual predators who met on equal ground.

Before Father.

Before Voldemort.

Sex with Father was always sharp and hot and painfully good. It left you bruised and sometimes bleeding but it was always so delicious. We loved it, together, apart, with Severus. It never occurred to us that we would be betrayed.

It never occurred to Severus that it would be someone besides Father who would do it.

First came the Death Eaters and then came HIM and then came the Aurors and when it was all done, I was without Mirror or Father and even Severus was abandoned for a while to Azkaban.

They thought the bruises and cuts and welts meant torture. They blamed Father because he was one of them -- the Death Eaters. They blamed Severus because he had been once. Only the welts and bruises upon him that matched those of me and my Mirror, the wonderful sweetness of Veritaserum, kept him from wizards' prison. They blamed Father and the Death Eaters completely.

They never even considered that it might have been Mother who set them upon us.

They never believed us when we said that it was willingly done, *wantfully* done, Severus, Father, Mirror and me. We were all willing lovers, never tortured for anything at all. They didn't believe and they said I needed someone to watch me, to be careful of me. He had been one of the Aurors who came upon me tangled with Mirror and so he had agreed even though we'd had our history, our disagreements.

He agreed even though he knew how I'd felt about Mirror.

He comes in and it surprises me. I hadn't even noticed it getting dark! Supper isn't ready, nothing's been done, and yet he smiles. He smiles and brings a hand up to tangle his fingers in platinum blond strands and he kisses me, red hair and freckles almost sickeningly clear. He kisses me...

"Hello, Harry," he whispers, and stands, and moves into the kitchen, leaving me infinitely lonely behind him.

/I miss Father..../

/I miss Draco.../

/I miss me./





back?