Lux et Umbra Vicissim I : Trance
- Rowan
A/N : My very first fic ever, so I'd enjoy any kind of feedback. I'm pretty new here, so forgive me if there's any etiquette I should be practicing. : ) Well, enjoy the fic… and forgive me if the Latin is wrong.
Disclaimer : All of these people belong to J. K. Rowling, not me. The only thing I own is the silver bracelet.
Draco idly scrawled 'Potter Stinks' on his notes. The heat and the heady fragrance of the June flowers were overpowering. All around him students were falling asleep over their papers, and Professor McGonagall herself was giving a slightly sleepy rendition of Transfiguration theorem. The class was very boring now that they were approaching more difficult methods, and the Professor insisted, of course, upon explaining the theory in detail. Only Hermione Granger remained fully awake, paying full attention, writing everything down.
'Potter Really Stinks' went down next.
'– Mr Thomas, are you with us?' came Professor McGonagall's sharp voice as Dean Thomas's head drooped onto his ink-bottle. It fell over as he jerked up and spilt all over his hair.
Draco smirked, then yawned again. The scent of the flowers and the sleepy, soothing murmur of the breeze were lulling him to sleep. Draco rested his head on his arm, shutting his eyes.
A comforting warmth seemed to settle upon him, and he slept.
* * *
A light touch on his arm awoke the sleeping boy, and he jerked awake, one hand moving reflexively to touch his silvery hair. His eyelids lazily wandered shut again, holding out against the light, but he was awake; screwing up his eyes, he yawned.
Suddenly he remembered where he was, and looked around wildly for Professor McGonagall.
There was no Professor McGonagall.
Nor was there a classroom.
He was on a train, and from what he saw, the Hogwarts Express. Draco's pale grey eyes widened, and he gazed around. There was a small red-haired girl next to him; she was slender and short, with long red hair. She wore a sweet worried expression. Draco sat up, interested.
'Is this compartment taken?' she asked. She had a nice voice. Draco liked her; she was of the sort which everyone wanted to protect.
'No,' he replied in his usual drawl. 'You can sit here if you like.'
'Thank you.' And she sat down across from him, her hands resting on her knees. She was wearing strange clothes – a pale green dress. Draco realised they were Muggle clothes, and was disgusted. Still, they looked nice on her. He wondered again how he had ended up on the Hogwarts Express. He hadn't lost his memory, had he? From what he remembered, Potter had never got close enough to punch him in the head, and anyway, he wouldn't be half strong enough…
As though answering a cue, the door opened, and Potter himself stumbled into the compartment.
Draco breathed a sigh of relief – if Potter was here, everything was all right. It was Harry Potter, wasn't it? That messy black hair, slender wrists…
No scar.
'Potter,' he called out to the boy, who looked up in surprise. 'What's happened to that lightning-bolt of yours?'
The boy frowned, staring at him. 'How do you know my name? Er… Sirius ate it.'
'Ate it?' gasped Draco. This was seriously strange.
The boy called Potter looked mildly interested. 'He ate it. Just snatched it out of my hands. Why? It was just candy…' He turned to the red-haired girl, who was watching them with wide innocent green eyes. Draco, however, knew enough about innocent eyes to know that this girl was not innocent at all. 'Hello,' he said, a touch more friendly than he ought to be when talking to a stranger. 'My name is James Potter, what's yours?'
'Lily Stanton,' she said, a sweet half-smile appearing on her smooth white face, not unlike Draco's lopsided mocking grin.
James Potter.
Draco gasped.
'Is something wrong?' asked Lily, looking at him again. 'You look a little ill.'
'Nothing,' he told her. 'Nothing at all.' If James Potter was here –
Where was he? Gone back, oh, more than thirty years?
Draco felt like screaming.
Someone outside the compartment did it for him – a playful yell reached their ears, and a moment later another black-haired boy tumbled into the compartment, followed by a serious boy with brown hair and a friendly grin. 'Sirius,' he threatened, 'give me back my book.'
'Or what?' challenged the black-haired boy, holding it tantalisingly high.
James laughed. 'Sit down, all of you. This is Lily, and this is –' He looked at Draco with a slight frown on his face. 'I'm sorry but I don't know you.'
'Draco.' Draco looked at him. He looked so much like Harry that it was impossible to get rid of the idea. 'Er… you don't happen to have a son, do you? A son called Harry Potter?'
Lily giggled and put her hand over her mouth. The other two boys snickered, and James looked perplexed.
'Me, a son? That's very funny, Draco,' said James, shaking his head. 'Why Harry Potter? Such a common name, if you ask me…'
'I think it's funny,' said the brown-haired boy.
'It's a nice name,' said Lily.
Draco gaped. That was surely Harry Potter's mother.
'My name is Remus,' said the brown-haired boy. 'Remus Lupin. And he,' pointing to the black-haired boy, 'is Sirius Black.'
If Draco's jaw had been able to unhinge, it would have been on the floor.
'Criminal,' he breathed, before he could stop himself.
'Yes, he is,' said Remus. 'He's stolen my book. Give it here, Sirius!' They plopped into the seats next to Draco, still battling for possession of the book.
Draco settled back into his seat, feeling so uncomfortable he thought he was going to explode. He was sitting in a compartment with Harry Potter's parents, back when they were – from the looks of it, eleven. Lily was looking at him in a way that made him extremely uncomfortable.
Then, as he was about to snap at her, she let out a shriek. The four boys in the compartment turned to her, staring. She pointed at Draco, who looked down at his hands –
They were gone.
He tried to gasp, but couldn't breathe. He was slowly dissolving into silvery mist… his feet were gone… his eyes… his whole body…
And then darkness came.
* * *
He came to yet again with the same touch on his arm. Looking around wildly, he saw grey mist and fog, and he was standing next to a slender, pretty girl with long red hair. Lily of the train, now many years older.
The mischievous half-smile reappeared on her face, and she hugged Draco close. He wept, crystal tears falling onto her white dress, and she took him by the wrist. Draco felt something cool and light being slipped around his hand. He looked at it through tear-blurred eyes – why was he crying? – and saw that it was a silver bracelet.
'Lux et Umbra Vicissim,' he read, and then looked up at Lily. She smiled and pulled him close again, and Draco let his tears flood his eyes and his conscious mind.
* * *
Bright sunlight hit his eyes. Draco was on a sandy beach, on a multi-coloured towel with a black-haired boy and a red-haired boy. He held an ice cream cone in his hand. The boys next to him were laughing, joking.
'James?' Draco asked sleepily.
The black-haired one looked at him. 'No, I'm Harry,' he said. 'Have you lost it?' He looked skinny in a pair of swimming trunks and an oversized shirt, as did the red-haired one – Weasley. Draco looked down at himself. He was dressed in ordinary black robes.
'How's the ice cream?' Ron asked, taking another bite out of his.
'Just fine,' Draco replied in a daze.
He looked at his wrist, remembering. The silver bracelet was still there. Harry noticed, and took hold of his wrist.
'You're really thin, Malfoy,' he said. Then he tugged at the clasp. 'It won't come off.'
'I know I'm thin, but at least I've got some muscles, Potter,' said Draco.
Ron looked at them both with a smirk on his face. He was a lot taller and stronger than either of them.
'Don't even start,' threatened Draco.
'Who gave it to you, Malfoy?' asked Harry, as though he had a perfect right to know. Draco stared apathetically at his jagged scar, wondering whether Harry would know anything about it.
'Your mother,' he said. 'Lily Stanton.'
Harry grabbed him by the shoulders and stared into his eyes. 'You met my mother, Malfoy?'
'Yes. She's very pretty –' He stopped as Harry began to shake him.
'You met my mother! Take me to see her, Draco! Please!' He stopped, looking thoughtful. 'Of course, you'll have to wake up first…'
Wake up first… wake up first… wake up… wake up…
* * *
The class watched in anticipation as Professor McGonagall strode purposefully over to the desk of the sleeping boy, Harry included. He was really going to get it this time, wasn't he?
He looked so peaceful in his sleep, pale silver-blond hair the colour of Galleons and Sickles, a usually malevolent pointed face angelic in rest. The class watched with bated breath as the Professor laid a hand on his shoulder.
'Wake up,' she ordered, but Draco didn't stir. She shook him harder, but there was no difference. Even a stern command in her steeliest voice didn't move him. There were mutters from the students.
'Is he even breathing?'
'He looks dead.'
'Drought of Living Death, didn't Professor Snape teach us that?'
'No, it can't be, I can see him breathing.'
Draco continued to sleep, his eyes closed, the angelic expression fixed on his face. This was to unwittingly change the… interests of many Slytherin girls, not to mention Gryffindors, towards him. Professor McGonagall paused in thought for a while, then spoke to the class.
'I'm taking him to the hospital wing. Please try to figure out the theory I have been teaching you, meanwhile –' Her words were drowned in a murmur of voices as the students began to discuss the situation. Frowning, she lifted him by magic, and set off with him to the hospital wing.
Madam Pomfrey was there, rolling up some bandages with her expert touch, and she took Draco, putting him into a white bed. 'He's in a trance,' she told Professor McGonagall. 'I have the remedy, but – how did he get into this position?'
'He fell asleep in class.'
'That's strange…' Madam Pomfrey took out a bottle of clear liquid and poured out a spoonful. Crossing to Draco, she opened his mouth and forced it down his throat.
A few moments later, the angelic look was gone, and the familiar malevolent expression was present on Draco's pale pointed face, like a pixie gone wrong. He stared at Professor McGonagall.
'Where's Harry?' he asked rather stupidly.
'Harry?' repeated Professor McGonagall. 'Harry Potter?'
Draco shook his head. 'Er… no.' He looked rather dazed. 'But I – I was with him just now!' Then he glanced down at his wrist, where Professor McGonagall saw a glittering silver bracelet. She saw him gasp, then hide his wrist under the bedclothes. 'I feel a little ill.'
'You fell asleep in class, Mr Malfoy.'
Draco's eyes widened.
'Do you want me to fetch Harry?'
He appeared to be thinking. 'Yes please, Professor.' Much more polite than he usually was, Professor McGonagall thought. As though it was painful, he added, 'Thank you.'
* * *
Harry was brought down to the hospital wing, very confused. Draco was lying in a white bed, looking a little green, and he was lying on one of his hands.
'Yes?' he said.
'I need to talk to you, Potter,' said Draco. And, with a glare at Professor McGonagall, added, 'Alone.' As she left quietly, he took his hand out from under him. Harry stared. He was wearing a silver bracelet on his left wrist.
'What's wrong, Malfoy?' asked Harry, sitting on the edge of the bed and taking Draco by the wrist. 'And what's that? Finally decided to come out of the closet – or is it just a display of how effeminate a man can be?'
Draco glared, a glare worthy of Medusa, and said, 'No, Potter, your mother gave it to me.'
Harry turned slightly pale. 'This isn't funny, Malfoy,' he said, in a slightly quavering voice. 'My mother is dead, and I'll thank you not to rub it in.'
'No, really, Potter,' insisted Draco. 'Your mother gave it to me. She's really beautiful.'
Harry got up, dropping Draco's wrist. 'STOP it, Malfoy,' he said, his voice tired. 'It really isn't funny.'
Draco sat up in bed, wisps of white-blond hair framing his pixyish face. 'Potter,' he said. 'Wait. I went into a trance just now.'
'And so?'
'I met your parents.' Draco told Harry the entire story. The black-haired boy seemed almost distraught. When he had finished, silence sank in for a moment – and then the pale boy was surprised by a pair of hands grabbing his shoulders. Harry shook him, his face wearing a desperate expression.
'You saw my mother,' he said, in a voice that seemed strangely choked. 'You saw my father.'
'Yes,' said Draco, wondering whether trances made your neck extra weak or whether it was just Potter shaking him extra hard. 'I saw you too.'
'It's true then…' Harry let out a hooting sigh. 'You have to take me to see her – to see them! My parents – you saw them…' He let go of Draco and let his hands fall to the bed. 'And she gave you that.' He took Draco's wrist again, and read, 'Lux et Umbra Vicissim.'
'Know any Latin, Potter?'
'Not really. We can always ask Dumbledore.'
'There is,' stated Draco flatly, 'no way we are asking Dumbledore.'
'Why ever not?'
Draco cradled his wrist to his hand. 'I just don't want anyone to know about this, Potter.' There was an unfathomable expression in his cold grey eyes. 'I'd switch places with you any time, even give you the bracelet, but unfortunately I can't even take it off, or control my trances.' He was remembering Lily Stanton, how he had wept in her embrace. Somehow the bracelet was significant to him.
Harry sighed. 'Life isn't fair. I just – just, you know, want to meet them.'
'I'll tell you when I see them again – if I see them again.'
With this assurance Harry left the hospital wing, leaving Draco to fall asleep amongst the fragrances of summer flowers and the soft snoring of Eloise Midgeon in the next bed, who had this time cursed her eyebrows off.
* * *
'Hermione,' said Harry, intercepting his friend as she exited the library. 'I need your help.'
'Why?' she asked, faint surprise showing on her face.
'Er… nothing. Just something for… Divination.' Harry couldn't think of another subject that he was taking and not Hermione. 'Know any Latin? Can you translate a phrase for me?'
'A little,' she replied. 'What's the phrase? And what's the old bat want with it? Another prophecy?'
'Yeah,' said Harry. 'Lux et Umbra Vi – Vicissim, I think it was.'
Hermione frowned. 'I've seen that inscription before,' she said. 'Light and Shadow… Light and Shadow something. I think Vicissim means by turns – Light and Shadow by turns. What kind of stupid prophecy is this?'
'It's pretty,' said Harry, wondering why his mother would have given Draco that bracelet.
'Yes, I guess so,' said Hermione, shouldering her book bag. 'Come on, Harry, Ron's waiting.'
As they set off to meet their red-haired friend, there were five words spinning in Harry's mind.
Light and Shadow by turns… Light and Shadow by turns…