Shades Of Gray-
"Would you do this?" Father asks. I say yes, of course. What else could I possibly say?
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He walks up, arrogant as ever, and looks at me. I feel like screaming. You're on the evil side, I want to say. People like you made Cedric, Sirius, mum and dad, and even Dumbledore die- yes, I know your role in that, even though your dad has it all hushed up so you can stay in school. But I don't say it. Got what they deserved, he'd say. Muggle-lovers and Mudbloods.
So the subject doesn't come up. But he keep staring, so finally I say: "Why are you here, Malfoy?"
And he waits a moment before speaking. "I have a proposition for you, Potter."
Then its my turn to do the silent thing for a moment because I had been expecting something more along the lines of "Go to hell, Potter."
"Do you think your loyalty for the 'light' side is stronger than mine for the Dark Lord?"
"Yes."
"Enough to bet on it?"
"Yes."
"How much?"
And I don't know. But I'm absolutely certain I'm right, that my loyalty is better. So.. "Anything. Anything at all."
He smiles. I have the feeling that he thinks I've done something pathetically idiotic.
"Your loyalty," he says confidently.
"Huh?"
"The stake. Your loyalty or mine. If I win, you come to the Dark Lord. If you win, I join your side."
I will win. Certainly. And I can always back out. There isn't any way he can make me join Voldemort. None at all. I only have something to gain.
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We seal the deal with blood and a spell, though Potter doesn't know it. The spell is special, and, of course, very illegal. Father entrusted a copy of the workings to me. I prepared it and set it in a piece of paper… It isn't even that hard- but it's consensual magic. Verbal consent needed to be able to perform it, from both involved parties. Only a great fool would give such consent.
Potter is a great fool. Soon he will be on the right side of the war, and we'll win.
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A drop of blood on a piece of paper. That's all Malfoy wanted to bind me to the contract. There weren't even any words on it. I don't know much about contract laws, but I'm pretty sure of one thing- no words means no contract. Otherwise, any random piece of paper would be a potential contract. Cut yourself and wipe it up with a paper towel? You've just signed over your life savings. No. Nothing was agreed to, really. But I doubt Malfoy knows that.
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There are side effects for this spell. Anything powerful enough to alter a person's mind like this runs on brute force. And with such force comes a certain lack of control.
The most important side-effect in this case is that appearance is changed as well as the mind. It takes several days, but I wake with a scar on my forehead. Easily hidden, but I also have a headache. I hope Potter suffers more.
The physical changes are much slower than the mental, and they'll stop at the same time. When both our loyalties match, or we're exactly the same in every aspect.
Potter is so stupid. He trusts even his enemies; he hasn't a clue what he's done.
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Am I doing the right thing? I have to wonder. If Ron and Hermione knew about this deal, they'd think I was an idiot. Malfoy is treacherous, Hermione would say. You can't trust him.
Well, I don't trust him. Not one bit. He let Death Eaters into Hogwarts. He killed Dumbledore. Indirectly, but still.
I don't trust him. Not at all. I don't trust anyone anymore. There's been so much killing now. I must be getting desensitized now, because the nightmares aren't so bad anymore. The screams are muffled, the curses less vivid. I hope they stay that way. I can't stand to see Voldemort kill anyone else. No more death. No more.
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Potter's scar is less prominent than it was before. Not anything a casual observer would notice, but I'm looking for it. Mine is still faint, but I keep it well-covered anyway. No need to let the cat out of the bag this early in the game.
Also, horror of horrors, my hair is growing out brown! I had to use a charm to fix it. I'd better get some serious compensation when I finish this.
The mental changes are harder to define. I feel off-balance all the time. Unstable. I notice that I'm using vocabulary slightly different than what I normally would. Nothing noticeable to anyone but me. But feeling off-kilter is good. My mind is resisting. I'll be changing much more slowly than he is. Stupid Potter couldn't keep foreign influences from his mind if he had two years preparation and… um. Something that would keep influences from his mind. I'll need to work on this little rant a bit more, I see.
I can't wait for this mess to be over. I'm having bad dreams, and I'm sure they aren't mine.
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Malfoy is beginning to worry me. He made an outrageous bet and hasn't bothered to find out who's loyalty actually is stronger. I'm almost scared. The drop of blood he took seems more sinister than incompetent now. Why did he take it? I corner him in the hall one day and ask, but all he'll say is: You'll see, Potter.
I think I'm in over my head, and nobody can fish me out of my mess now. Well, maybe Hermione, but she'd kill me for being an idiot. I'd rather face Malfoy than a mad Hermione. She'd never understand.
But I don't have any other chance.
Malfoy smirks at me in the halls and in classes. Every time I see him, there he is, looking amused. I don't know how much more of this I can take. Is this his test? Smirking at me in hallways and thinking I'll somehow decide Voldemort is better? No. Even Malfoy couldn't be that dim. I just wish I knew what he did have planned.
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Potter is confused. That can't be anything but good. I've been making a point of sitting near him in class. Proximity makes the spell work faster. I want this to be over.
But what if he asks the Mudblood for help? She's smart. Too smart. When we win, we'll cut her down to size. But in the meantime, I have to keep Potter too embarrassed to ask her for any help. And stop him if he tries. I can do that.
I'll make Father proud.
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I'm still trying to avoid asking for Hermione's help, but every hour that passes makes it look more hopeless.
Food tastes odd. Too bland. Everything seems too bright. I think I'm becoming ill. My body is gradually betraying me. Even my hair is odd. Not so stiff- it's nearly laying flat. And at the very roots, it isn't black. It's brown. I do a few tests on it, and the most basic one, to test for magic, reveals something odd: My hair has almost as much magic in it than my scar. Which also has more than it ought to. I tested some other things to make sure I haven't made a mistake.
I have more magic in me than all the rest of the magic in Hogwarts combined. I think I'd better tell Hermione now. At Hagrid's hut. That's where she is.
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Finding Potter is easy. Obliviate is wonderful spell.
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The snow outside is thick and deep. It's up to my knees at least.
Footprints lead from the castle to my feet, but I don't remember the journey. Don't remember standing here long enough to soak my feet though I'm wearing boots.
Don't remember. Don't remember. Don't remember.
Something big has happened but I don't know what. I have to get back to the castle. Have to sit in front of the fireplace and drink cocoa and talk and laugh.
But something is so wrong…
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I couldn't whisper the spell. My control was shot. I needed to shout- he was so angry- but no, it was me that was angry, really.
He'll end up in the hospital wing and I'll be found out. It isn't fair. I did what I was supposed to. Nothing bad should happen. Everything is so wrong.
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I'm so confused. The common room is full, and everyone looks at me when I go in.
"Where were you, Harry?" they ask. And I can't remember so Ron and Hermione take me to the Hospital wing.
"Memory charm," Madame Pomfrey says promptly, and then she frowns and gets some more teachers, and Hermione worries aloud because the magic is mine and it isn't possible to cast a memory charm on yourself, now is it?
And they want to take me to Saint Mungo's, and keep asking me questions and talking about permanent damage, but I can't answer, and something is wrong and I don't want to be here anymore so I'm not.
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I know he's confused. And I know I shouldn't be. But this stupid spell causes leakage of emotions and I'm too scared to block it.
They'll stop the spell. Potter won't turn. Father will kill me. I don't want to be me anymore. So I'm not.
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It's dark here, and quiet. Better. No people casting spells. No light. I want to sleep now. I'm tired. Everything will look better in the morning, maybe.
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I was an idiot for trying that spell on my own. Potter has so many emotional difficulties. I'll be a nutcase before the spell finally gets along to averaging out our loyalties.
My scar hurts much worse than it ought to. Potter still has the majority of the scar, right? I shouldn't feel this bad.
It isn't dark anymore. I'm not in my room. And Potter isn't confused anymore. He's asleep. I can tell. It's creepy.
I become aware that it is bright and noisy. Not my room. I'm starting to feel confused in my own right, without Potter's mind to help me along. How did I get here?
I'm in the hospital wing. Potters friends are here, looking at me worriedly. I look down at my hands. The nails are bitten. I don't bite my nails. Potter does, though. My eyes widen.
I am Harry Potter.
I shake my head to clear it. "Felt odd for a moment," I say in an odd new voice by way of explanation to Potter's friends. They look surprised.
"Are you alright, then?" the Mudblood asks.
"A bit dizzy," I reply, because Potter glasses obviously have an out-of-date prescription and they hurt my eyes. I look around. "How did I get here?" Convincing look of bewilderment.
They ask what the last thing I can remember is. I claim Potions, because it was the last class I had with Potter. I know what happened.
"No sign of memory spells now," Pomfrey announces with a worried look.
I have to stay in the wing for observation, but that isn't a problem. I consider writing a letter to father, but decide it would be too risky at this point.
Being Harry Potter is actually quite boring. Granger brings some homework for me to do. I finish it quickly, and, once she's gone, wonder at how like Potter's my writing is. Handwriting must be a body thing.
Once I get out of here I'll get Potter from my room. That's where he is. I just know. I'll put him somewhere safe, and keep him asleep. And I'll root around in his mind, find out what I need to continue being him. Just until the spell is done. Just until his loyalties shift.
I hide him in my trunk. It's quite large enough. I ensure that he won't wake or get uncomfortable, and then I leave. I can't do anything about the obliviation. Too strong. Maybe it will wear off? Probably not.
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I sleep a long time.
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The news of the week is that "Malfoy" has gone missing. Only I have the truth. And I wish… I don't know. That he could stay in my trunk forever. His life is better than mine, somehow. Simpler. Of course, all his friends are mudbloods and muggle-lovers, but… But I can't. He'll wake when the spell finishes anyway. Our magic will be identical. And you can't put yourself under a sleeping hex.
So when he wakes we'll both go to father and I'll say "I did it." and he'll say "Well done, Draco. Well done."
Only a few days to go.
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I wake. It is dark and cramped like a coffin.
I can't get out.
I must get out.
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He's awake. We're too close to being the same person, now. Can't keep a curse on yourself. Not even mild sleeping hexes.
Are his loyalties right, now? I have to see. And Father will say "Well done, Draco. Well done. Well done."
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I have to get away. Don't trust Malfoy, Hermione would have said. Don't trust him don't trust him don't. But I didn't ask, did I. Did I? I can't remember…
Why am I not scared? Because he won't kill me. Wasn't I scared a moment ago? I can't tell. I don't know.
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"Are you loyal to Lord Voldemort?" I ask.
But he won't answer. Can Obliviate wear off? Maybe the magical match has to be stronger. We aren't exactly the same yet. I throw even more power into the spell. His face changes a little. It looks more like mine.
"Are you loyal to Voldemort?!" I shout, not caring anymore if someone else hears and comes.
Harry looks up, eyes suddenly lucid.
"No, Draco. And neither are you. He killed my parents. And he took yours from you forever."
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I know what he did now. I think I even understand why. It would be hard not to. He's almost me. I even have his memories.
Draco saw the world in black and white. There was good and bad. Them and us. Death Eaters and blood traitors. No shades of grey.
Lucius saw the world as cattle. Cattle to be slaughtered, eaten, used. But he couldn't teach that to Draco. Draco saw people as people. Good or bad, but still people. And what he thought of them varied. They were good or bad, but only for a while. Only until someone changed his mind.
And what he really cared about? What everyone did. Being loved. Family, relationships. Voldemort had made a mistake when he made his followers torture, and kill. That left marks. Such people would not be able to give, emotionally. Only take, and force. Voldemort had robbed so many people of a normal childhood. How many Death Eater's children could be persueded to leave for a better life?
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"I need a life," Draco said. "I can't just… piggyback on yours forever, like I have been."
"Why not? We're a little bit different right now, but that'll change. You made sure of that."
"I did not. I just set it for loyalties."
"Too vague. It'll never end. The scar, too. It links us. The spell can live in that link."
"Oh. Whoops."
"So come on. We'll charm ourselves to look different. We can do whatever- take turns at being each other, or tell Ron and Hermione and see what they think…"
"Alright then. Lets go."
Two boys walked out of the room, but if anyone had seen them, they couldn't have been blamed for wondering if there was only one boy, and a mirror. They didn't look quite the same, but the look in their eyes was the same, and they both had the same expression of peace. At least for the moment.
A/N: ...odd fic, I know. I have no idea where it came from. I hope you like it and please review!