Author's Note: This is a HP story with no made-up characters BUT minor ones; such as Death Eaters, Bus Drivers, you get the point. Rated PG13 for curse words and a more pre-teen/teen theme. In other words, fluff, snogging, and toast. Toast, for me, is mild curse warning. And I don't have anything to do with Criterion of Incertitude (**cough, Paradigm of Uncertainty *Cough), so don't even ASK! Although it is a very good story!
~ Realistic Genuine Shadow Mirage Specter Apparition Phantasm Illusion Phantom. ~
Please, call me Mirage. I need a beta-reader, and don't want to go to Writer's U. Will someone volunteer? You have to be able to find spelling and grammar errors that my spell check doesn't catch. Also, characterization and context is important! If you want to, contact me @
genuine_mirage@hotmail.comOr if you just want to chat, you can also email me!
Mirage: Pertaining to Illusions 01
Pertaining to Illusions
Introduction…
Illusions are nothing but lies. Or are they? They cover up the truth. But sometimes there is nothing under. But sometimes there is. And it isn't always a lie…
A baby boy lay in a cradle. The pannier was made out of black wood. The wood wasn't just a dark brown; it was truly black. The color of the bassinet and the color of the boy contrasted drastically, though. The lad was pale as a winter night—paler, if the truth was to be said. His hair was as white as an elderly woman's, and his skin had not even the bloom of youth. He was as well behaved as a man of twenty; he did not cry, nor even whimper as the baptismal water was put on his forehead. A cold voice spoke up. "This child is to be named Draco Thomas Malfoy." The child had not yet flinched at the cold January morning, or even at coming out into the world, but at the sound of his father's voice he cringed more than a little. "Bring in the gift bearers."
A heavy oaken door scraped on the floor. A ghastly stench filled Draco's nostrils; an old witch had approached him. " I give this child selfishness."
Another old woman came near. "My gift is persuasion." "Greediness." "Disobedience." "Rudeness." "Malevolence is my gift."
As each woman spoke she placed a form of plant-life beside him, all of which were black. An aster. A violet. A charred larkspur. A lily-of-the-valley. A fern. A creeping vine. And finally, a twisted rose. Only one woman was now left. "Thank you, ladies," Said Lucius Malfoy.
"Wait a moment," called out a light voice. " I have not yet given my gift."
A lady walked quickly to from the door to Draco's cradle. She tapped him lightly on the nose. "I was not invited to this ceremony! I consider that a mortal insult. Therefore, he shall die by trying to help someone else in his sixteenth year!"
Everyone had been frozen in shock before, but when she spoke these words, they writhed in horror. With a clap, she vanished. "Wait. I have not given my gift, either." The homeliest siren walked up, hunched over.
"Can you counter the hex?" asked the frightened father.
"No," replied the crone, "But I can help. He shall not die. He shall be put into a deep sleep. Sadly, it will still be by trying to save someone."
She reached down to place her flower down, a wilted daffodil, only to realize that the witch had also left a flower. A single white rose, brilliantly colored. The small child reached for it with his small baby hands, chortling.
Only too late, everyone in the room realized that Draco had been given two presents. One was the ability to bond deeply with someone. The other was a conscience.
Sixth Year, First Potions Class
"Today we shall be making a disorientation potion," whispered Snape. "This potion casts a random spell on you when drunk. Be careful how you prepare them. Now," and Snape looked around the room," I shall pair you up into partners. Granger! You work with Draco." He had noticed Harry, Hermione, and Ron sidling up to each other. "Longbottom! You work with Parkinson! POTTER! You will NOT be working with Weasley!" He pointed a long finger at Millicent Bullestrode. Harry groaned and strode off to his destination. Ron rolled his eyes as Snape paired him with Esselte Yakima, a scrawny, Swedish Slytherin with a face that looked remarkably like Dudley's.
"Let's get this over with." Harry gritted his teeth. Millicent wasn't known for being too good at potions. Quickly Snape managed to find something wrong with every potion ingredient that he had prepared; though praising Millicent's.
At least,
Harry mused, even if I hate Potions, I manage to put in the chokecherries without wondering why they're red…When the potion was finally done, it was a resonant emerald color. Harry looked around him, and saw that some were violet hues, while others were shades of gray. Harry grabbed a goblet sitting before him. Millicent did the same.
He ladled the liquid into his goblet, noting the high viscosity. The glop would hardly come off the wooden spoon. Finally there was a bit in each of the goblets. Harry tilted his upside down, figuring the thickness of it wouldn't allow it to come down quickly.
It came down far more abruptly than he would have figured. He hurriedly swallowed it, perceiving that it tasted like stoat. Nothing happened. He looked at his partner. Then he looked again. Her ears were larger than an African Elephant's.
Suddenly, his hearing range was exaggerated. He felt something brush his shoulder, and tried to brush it off, only to find it was his ear. His range of hearing caught Hermione's panicked voice. "Malfoy, we can't take that potion! I know what it is—a transportation potion! We could be flung anywhere!"
Malfoy's drawl was impatient. "Granger, we won't. It's just a shrinking potion."
"Well, I know they do look kind of alike, but this isn't!"
"Yes, it is. You don't want to fail Potions, do you?"
Her voice was meek. "No."
"Then take it!"
Harry's super sonic ears caught the glug of potion being swallowed.
CRACK!
He whirled around, only to see that Hermione and Malfoy had vanished. "HERMIONE!" He rushed over to where she had last been. The potion was a brilliant magenta. His words echoed seemingly in the silent classroom. "Where are you?"
The last thing Hermione remembered was taking the potion. Then—nothing.
The words echoed in Draco's head. "This is wrong… " He furiously fought them. "No, it's not! It isn't wrong! It really is a shrinking potion!" But he knew it wasn't, somehow. But was it really his fault? He thought it was a shrinking potion. He didn't change it. But he had deceived Hermione. But why did he care?
Why did he?
Seeing Hermione on the ground was really a welcome from the battle in his head. He knelt down besides her. "Wake up." He wasn't really used to not having his way. "WAKE UP! RIGHT NOW!" He was screeching at her. To no avail. She rolled on her side. "Where are you?" she sleepily murmured.
"What?"
"Nothing." Hermione sat up, smoothing her crumpled robes. "Where are we?"
"I don't know." Draco was frustrated beyond belief.
The groggy state was wearing off more quickly than he would have liked. "You mean it wasn't a shrinking charm?"
He shrugged. Nothing infuriated her more then to see that he was shrugging it off like that. Hermione wasn't happy about being lost and dirty, but the fact that Draco didn't care was more than she could stand.
"DRACO MALFOY! IT IS TIME THAT YOU STARTED TAKING RESPONSIBILITY! WE ARE NOT GOING TO GET OUT OF HERE WITH YOU ACTING LIKE THIS! YOU SHOULD—"
Hermione paused for a breath. Draco got the picture, however, because he immediately conjured up a magical map. His brow furrowed in puzzlement after looking at it.
"What's the matter?" Hermione inquired anxiously.
Draco didn't answer.
Hermione repeated her question with increased worry.
Draco looked up. "I—I don't know. It doesn't show."
Hermione had never seen Malfoy worried before.
It just showed how scared he was. And that scared Hermione, too.
Harry looked at the floor blankly. Everyone had been searching for Hermione for hours unsuccessfully. Ron ground his teeth. "I bet that evil git planned this, just to snog Hermione!"
For possibly the first time in hours Harry managed a weak smile.
"Ron, Hermione has something."
"What is that? Being pretty? An object on which Malfoy can vent his rage? Or simply the fact that she's female?"
"Ron, its called willpower."
"Why would you need wi—wil-willpo—"
He couldn't get the word out. Harry's grin grew larger.
Ron clutched his stomach and pretended to retch.
"Urgh…who'd think Malfoy was handsome?" He looked as though the word pained him.
"Wait—I
P think he's pretty. He's the biggestPretty-Boy I've seen." He added.
Harry shrugged. Truth be told, he had heard Lavender Brown and Pavariti Patil talking about him lately.
"…Ooh, he's so cute! I hope he asks me to the seventh year ball!" That particular dance was not supposed to be heard of except in seventh year, but the two biggest gossips in the school had intercepted love notes, snatched bits of information, and badgered people until they gave up and told.
"No, he's going to ask me!"
"I hope he doesn't ask Pansy Parkinson!"
They both wrinkled their noses at that, and changed the subject off Malfoy to Harry, at which point Harry had stopped listening.
"Harry, are you listening to me?" He stopped reminiscing and listened to Ron.
"But are they even close to finding Hermione? I hope they are."
Ron rolled his eyes.
"Really," he said sarcastically. "I do believe that I was the one who liked Hermione from the beginning. But now you go stealing her, like everything else. I'm leaving."
He stormed out of the commons area. It was deserted, because everyone was at dinner. But neither boy had felt hungry.
Now Harry felt even less so.
Draco wasn't feeling formidable at the moment. He wasn't feeling angry, in control, fierce, or even just his usual emotions.
He was feeling bewildered.
It wasn't something he was used to. He had been certain that that was a shrinking potion. But in the back of his head, he remembered that he had known it wasn't one. But why did he say that? He went over his day, step by step, to make sure that there wasn't something that he had missed.
Draco is shaken awake by Goyle. He gets up and dresses, going to breakfast. On the way he is intercepted by Pansy Parkinson, who simpers at him. But his heart belongs to another. He smiles at her, but it's a sad one. She doesn't notice. His breakfast is bacon and eggs. The Owls arrive, and he gets a letter—
Draco scanned his memory painfully. He just simply couldn't remember. He had no idea what had happened to him after that letter arrived. He didn't even know who had sent it. He could remember what happened after breakfast; he had gone to potions, feeling nauseous.He picked up a rock, and chunked it angrily. Hermione rolled over in her sleep. He had a strong feeling that that letter had influenced him in some way. He grinned slightly as he thought of R.L.W.I. (Reading letters while intoxicated.)
He took a long look at her sleeping, and braced himself for a long night. Draco pulled up his hood, still watching from inside it.
Ron was crying.
He didn't really know why he was crying; yet that didn't change the fact that he was bawling like he hadn't since he was very young. Perhaps it had to do with the fact that he was angry with Harry. No. He wasn't really angry with Harry. It was Hermione's vice that she was alluring, it wasn't Harry's that he was attracted to her.
Ron brought his fist down on the bathroom counter, shaking it noticeably.
He kicked the sink until a sharp pain in his toe made him stop. He then pulled out his wand and transfigured the washbasin into a twig, which he snapped.
Ron then proceeded to wreck the entire bathroom, venting his rage in such a way that Snape would be pleased to ruin Gryffindor's chance for the House Cup. There was a knock on the door, making Ron pause in the middle of planting an well-aimed spell in the toilet.
"It's Harry," said a small voice on the other side of the door. "Can I come in?"
"Yeah," said Ron gruffly. Quickly he wiped his face to clear it of tears, but he saw in the cracked mirror that it remained red and puffy. That couldn't be helped.
He walked over to the door and unlocked it. Harry stared at the bathroom.
"Wow." He gaped, avoiding looking straight into Ron's eyes. Ron noticed that he had not yet gotten rid of his ears; it had been hours.
"I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings, Ron. But Hermione is my friend. She will still be my friend, no matter what, Ron. And you can't stop friendship. But Ron, as long as you feel this way about Hermione, I can promise that I won't feel anything more than friendship for her…"
Ron looked down on him in a new light. Even though Harry was possibly two feet shorter then him, he still looked up to him. "Are you sure?" He asked wistfully.
It was too good to be true.
Harry wasn't sure, but he knew how much Ron needed him, and Hermione as well. His feelings for Hermione were beyond like. But he was sure if he loved her; he loved her like older brother and younger sister, even though Hermione was 4 months older then he was.
He finally looked into Ron's eyes. "Yeah, I'm sure."
Ron knew that Harry was lying, and he respected him for it. He knew that Harry was prevaricating to save him from being hurt. Ron trusted Harry to do what was best, but it still hurt. His lies hurt worse then anything.
Without drawing hemoglobin, or even speaking, they had created a blood bond. Neither would violate it until the other spoke. And that meant that their unsaid contract would never be broken.
Deliberately, that is.
Ooh! Cliff-hanga! Fine. I'll admit that I suck at them. You can scroll down through my THANX, BUT READ THIS FIRST:
I need a beta-reader! (Another one.) Also, thanks to Cassandra PissoneAuthor's Note: Before I end, I have a policy: Don't Ask!
JI thank everyone who has encouraged me to try this; mainly my best friend Meagan and Mad Catter. (I don't agree with all of Mad Catter's stories, ideas, or language though!
J Yeah, HMMM you too.)If you enjoyed this story at all, please review. I don't care about constructive flames. I'm not sissy-boy JKPotter12.
I love EMIN
$ M and BsB, even though they're the UUUUGGGLLLIIIEESST thingsI've seen…
This is really short…
Well, if you have any suggestions, any anything, don't hesitate to contact me!
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Disclaimer: Nothing is mine, except that Slytherin. I hope that Slytherin is everyone's
favorite house.
Also,
I
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J
Dedicated to:
Teresa, who has provided many hours of laughter with her silly emails. Also to HoHoHolly, whom I feel sorry for… Your stories were FUNNY! Don't quit! We NEED a bit of funny in our lives!