FAGE 007

Title: Dancing With Myself

Written for: StarshotFourteen

Written By: Jaden 'Birdie' Blythe

Rating: PG

Summary: The mind is a complex thing, yet so simplistic and basic at the end.

Prompt: Last Dance and Mirror, mirror on the wall.

Warnings: For the purposes of this story, Harry Potter will be a girl. No matter how hard I tried, he just wanted to be a girl for this fic.

Being tall and unhealthily lanky, and adding in my unfriendly attitude, it was no wonder I was so unpopular. But I had thought Lily surely saw through that, saw that I loved her like I loved no other in this world. We were friends for near to six years, I showed her that she was magical and one little slip and I'm left out in the cold.

So another holiday, alone in the dungeon dorms of Slytherin House with nothing but my potions, my books and my imagination—not that that's much. An outcast in the house of those who are cunning and play every move to their advantage. Perhaps they are right, I'm not much of a Slytherin. I allowed myself to be led around by a pretty face and a sweet smile and look at where it's gotten me.

I play it all over in my head; James Potter's wand aimed at me, softly swaying as he guides my body in the air. I can see the beauty of the spell as it plays out in my mind, but the fury still builds inside of me. Not just for Potter but for Lily, too. I could see the smile twitching at her lips—I know on the inside she was laughing at my expense.

For years I've put up with the Marauders bullying—the taunts, the hexes, the sabotage—all for her, all for the beautiful, fiery girl that was my first friend, my only friend. How can she be so unmoving towards me, for one slight said in fear, humiliation and anger? Why doesn't she show them the same treatment!

Now I'm stuck having to play it all again and again in my mind, trying to pick apart what I could have have done differently. How I could get her to finally forgive me? Maybe she was lying when she said I was fine as I was; I should have changed, tried harder.

How could that filthy traitor defend them!? I could see that glint in her eye; it's the same one that I see in Potter and Black's eyes when they are planning a new "prank". She is nothing more than that now: a traitor—a collaborator to their mayhem! The Headmaster acts as if nothing is wrong with Black leading me to Lupin in his transformed state. A harmless joke he calls it. Yet, he is not the one having to dose himself with potions just to sleep through the night.

He talks of his 'House Unity' and of all those residing inside of Hogwarts as being a family; he cares not for our safety, our health and well being. His precious Gryffindors can do no wrong, yet the slimy snake is always the one brought to task. Hypocrite!

Yet after even this, I still turn to him; he is my one constant in this world right now. Better to embrace the evil you know then walk out into the unknown.

The Dark Lord has given me a mission and I don't think I will be able to fulfill it.

Oh, why, why, why did I join them? Me! A half-blood, joining the cause of the pureblood sycophants. Few hold the same intellect as I but still, they hold the power and the money; surely being pure of blood must account for something.

Now I skulk and dart about in filthy alleyways and rundown bars hoping for even the tiniest morsel of information to bring back to my Lord. Mayhaps I shall receive a token of worth in the eyes of the elite, perhaps in time I will loose the indignity of my muggle heritage.

Luck is a double edged sword; in one night I have found favor with my Lord and ultimately sealed the death of the one who shall forever hold my heart. Poor, poor Lily. I have begged my Lord to let her live, but I feel that he shall only give her one chance.

So now I find myself falling nicely into the Dark Lords plans. I must contact Dumbledore for surely he can save her. In the spirit of the friendship we once had, I shall put aside my pride and grovel to the man who allowed my torture to go unpunished.

I shall lay myself at his feet and beg him to save the woman that bloomed from the girl I loved. In my mind I see her as she was before Hogwarts, before its hallowed halls poisoned her against me, before Potter and Black began their campaign to destroy my world.

Her long red hair flying through the air, her green eyes bright and full of life and laughter. Still I see her as the girl I would watch and envy in the park. Joy radiating from her as she ran and danced through the lanes back towards her home. She was my spark of hope in an ever increasing world of pain and sorrow.

That manipulative old tosser! How could he tell them it was I that told the Dark Lord. I swore an oath to him to spy on the Dark Lord and now he places my life in danger by telling them who gave him the information on the Darks happenings. And now she wants— no, she demands—that I create a potion to save her precious unborn child.

A potion, she asks, to make it so her baby is no longer a candidate to fulfill the prophesy. 'There must be some potion that you can make. The Dark Lord must not be able to mark my child!'

My words back to her still ring in my ears, 'What would you have me do? Turn your boy into a girl with hair as black as ebony, skin as white as snow, lips as red as a blood! Shall we stand before an enchanted mirror and whisper "Mirror, mirror on the wall!"

It's been a week since our meeting. A week since Lily Potter told me to change the sex of her unborn child. Oh, Severus, how do you get yourself into these messes.

It is done; and just in time, too. The child is due within the month and I have been getting constant post from Lily about her latest excuse for not wanting to know the child's gender. If all goes to plan, the Dark Lord will choose to go after another child. He will not make a girl child as his equal, he will not see her as his equal.

I sent the potion off to Lily this very afternoon. I only wish I could see the look on James Potters face when he finds his son is in fact a girl. Of course she'll have eyes of Emerald like her mother, her hair will be black as a moonless night; and as messy and wind-swept as her father, and her lips will be as dark as a ripe cherry.

The Dark Lord will not want her as an equal. I pray to Merlin and Morgana that he will leave the Potters alone, yet I am most certain he will still try to kill them for their defiance. Only time will tell, and for now they are safe.

My heart and soul scream for her. He has killed my only friend and made me watch as he took her from this world. As she begged for the life of her sweet Eirween Jamee Potter, I stood bound behind my Lord wishing for nothing more than to save the life of my dearest friend. It broke my heart, again, to realise that even at her death I could see that she had still not forgiven my harsh words from years before.

Now, I have no one. But I will not allow her daughter to be like me. I know what plans Dumbledore has in store for the young witch (should the Dark Lord have seen fit to mark her as his equal). How he will accomplish this, I know not. Black will not take the child, Lupin can not, and (from what I've gathered) Dumbledore has been promising a Hero for the newly conceived Weasley child.

I am still unsure how it is that Dumbledore was under the impression that the child was a boy. Perhaps he had the gender spells cast before the potion. He will be in a for quite the shock when he finds that the child is well and truly a girl.

The Dark Lord calls, it is time to follow him to the only other possible child of prophesy, Neville Longbottom. I hope my warning reached them in time.

Alice and Augusta are dead, the young Longbottom and his father still live and the Dark Lord vanished into smoke and dust before my eyes. Frank thanked me for the warning, where he was I am still trying to figure out, but the destruction of the Dark Lord was spectacular.

Again I was bound in place by a spell as Alice begged for the life of her precious child. You could see the bright white flare of magic around the infant as the sickly glow of the death curse collided with his mother. I do not believe that the Dark Lord saw it else he would not have cast the next spell.

As he cast Avada Kedavra at the child, I saw the white glow begin to pulse faster and faster as the spell got closer and closer. And then I knew nothing as a blinding white light filled the room. I was insensate for moments, only vaguely aware of what was happening.

I have found, through gentle questioning of Minerva, where the Headmaster plans to send the infant Miss Potter. I can not, in good conscience or the love of my dearest friend, allow her child to grow in the house of Petunia! It would be torture for the child, much as it was torture for Lily.

I have only hours until he leaves the child in the cold November night of Surry. There is much to plan and I know I can not stay here, in Britain, with the child. Perhaps a golem of myself or the child would suffice. With the right combination of spells and charms I could make the golem grow for nearly a year before it would start to waste away and die.

Yes! That would work beautifully. I'll make a golem of myself, charmed with copies of my memories it would be able to teach for the remainder of the school year and by the beginning of the new school year it will have wasted away.

I'll have to get the child shortly after Dumbledore leaves her at the Dursley's home. I'll return with the golem child the last night of All-Hallows Day. When Petunia holds the child for the first time, the wards (if there are any) will flare to life.

But where to go? Should I go muggle with the child? It might be the best plan. I could find somewhere rural where my use of magic wouldn't be recognised. Warding the home wouldn't be too difficult and I could put up a ward to change my magical signature just incase.

Somewhere in Italy or Spain would be good. Our dark hair would make it easy to blend in. Perhaps Sicily would be even better or maybe Crete. No, not Crete. It was far to small and chances are high that I would be caught doing magic.

Goodness, I thought they would never leave! Not a soul around to see them and still the old codger has to make a show of everything. And letting Hagrid bring the child on that flying motorcycle of Black's! What in the blazes was the man thinking! He had her stuffed inside his jacket like a scarf.

I had my doubts, but now I see that the child will be far better off with me. I shudder to think what the child would have to live through if these are but some of the actions allowed to happen to such a young one.

Lovely, more theatrics! Honestly, at times I wonder about the man's sanity; he must wish for all to think he is addle-minded. Nice try Headmaster, however, I see you for what you are: a manipulator and a fake. This is one child that you will not lay hands upon after today.

What of her inheritance I wonder. I will have to make steps to secure it from greedy hands. Ah, they are all gone. I must keep an eye out for Minerva—she is a clever tabby, of that there is no doubt. It wouldn't do to be caught out when I don't plan to leave for another two days.

"Hello, Eirween. I am Severus. I will be taking you from this harsh place." The child was much more pleasing to the eye when she didn't have snot and tears running down her plump cheeks. In repose, one could see that she would grow into a great beauty, much like her mother.

I could see the note tucked into the basket. I will take it all with me now and in two days time I would return it with the golem child in its confines. I can see no spells upon it, nothing to keep the child asleep until the morn or to keep her within until she was lifted from its short walls.

Slowly, carefully, I walked away from the home of Petunia Dursley. In two days time, I would forget about this woman and her hate of all things magical. Perhaps I could leave a special little surprise for the shrew of a woman, as a farewell from Lily. I could feel the chuckle working its way up my chest and I fought it down.

School would resume in exactly 7 days and I planned to be long gone by that time. I would write a letter for Dumbledore, set to be delivered after the end of the year. Oh great, I'll have to find a spell to keep Hogwarts owls from finding me. That wouldn't do at all. Perhaps having a drop box elsewhere, that I can have specific pieces sent off to where they need to be?

It's strange, all the books I skimmed said a child of Eirween's age would need more maintenance than she has required. Perhaps she is aware that time is of the essence and delay would only hinder our flight to safety? I have her in a play yard surrounded by charms to keep her safe while I brew the potion for the golems; she's happy as can be playing with a few toys I conjured for her.

She truly is a remarkable child, she seems to like the sound of my voice. The only thing she doesn't like is being rocked, but if I dance with her—oh, don't I feel a fool, I might as well be dancing with myself—she gives a little sigh and rests her head on my shoulder and soon she is asleep. To think that I created this little masterpiece while I was merely tinkering with a potion. Her hair is black as ebony, her skin is pale as snow—yet her skin feels as if it were warmed by the sun, and her lips are a red as blood.

Only a step left in creating a golem for myself and the child, a vial of blood; to give it life and make it behave as we would. I wonder, will Petunia see the perfection of her niece and treat her as her own child or will she see it preternatural beauty and be as the Evil Step-Mother? Will she covet the beauty Eirween holds?

I checked the letter Dumbledore placed with Eirween. What a vile man he is—how did I never see beyond his airs? He placed a number of compulsions upon the parchment. This child would have never known rest or love.

I did not place the compulsion charms and have reworded the letter to my own liking; I shall save the original for evidence later. While the golem-child will not—in most likelihood—be loved, she will not be beaten and starved. I have cast the spells that will make it seem as if the child is suffering from a magical wasting disease. Dumbledore will likely chalk it up to backlash from the protective magics her mother used on her.

All out pieces are now in place. In the morning Eirween and I shall be heading for Italy. I hope that I can provide her with the childhood she deserves. I will tell her of her mother and her father; the good and the bad. In a year, British Wizards will believe that she is dead. In a decade, they will learn otherwise.

I pray to Merlin and Morgana that I will survive the wrath that will fall at my feet. My memories, the uncharmed basket and Dumbledore's letter are the only things I have as proof that she would have been harmed. May Lily's love cloak her child up to that point, I fear she will need all the protection she can get.

Eirween means white snow.

Jamee is a french feminization of the name James.

This was an interesting little piece to write. I've never written in this style before and I've never written a gift fic or for prompts, so this was a new experience for me all around. I enjoyed writing this piece and perhaps I will write more in this verse later.

Birdie - -