Draco smiled dreamily into the mirror, running his pale fingers through is ever perfect blonde hair. He smirked, a small self satisfied giggle making it's way through the room. A low, smiling moan of arrogant appreciation slid from his throat as he admired himself.
"Oh, Draco..." He whispered silkily, running his finger down his reflection's perfect cheek. "How on Earth are you so beautiful? You look as if the Gods chose the finest marbles with which to craft your wonderous face."
"Draco, darling, why do you insist on constantly reminding yourself of your perfection? Surely by now you must know how 'beautiful' you are...?" His caretaker, Severus, said tiredly. He reached up and pulled a rough hand down his haggard face and knelt to lace the master's custom black scale boots. Draco merely shrugged.
"If you are by any means requesting I cease this ritual, you are in to be sorely disappointed. Certainly, one as beautiful as I must know each day that he is beautiful. I only wish to reassure myself of that, Severus, dear."
"Of course, Young Master, how in heaven's name could I think otherwise." He returned flatly. He worked his way upward in dressing the Young Lord, stopping at last to replace the pleaded stock that adorned the Master's neck into a dignified position. Draco, through the process, merely watched Severus' hands in the mirror, doing wonders to enhance the fine lines of his figure, adding emphasis to his paleness with the small dandied black plume shifting restlessly atop his small grey ornamented top-hat.
"Dear, that is enough. Too much and the people will never stop ogling," Draco smirked. "Now come, to the market. Father's due to arrive today at the Square at a quarter to noon. Mustn't be late, Sevvy."
The bleak, sallow man nodded, extending an arm to lead the Master to his Buggie. The sleak black automobile shrugged under the weight of the two as they slammed shut the doors.
"Foot to the floorboards, Sev. It's already thirty to twelve."
Severus nodded. "Yes, Young Master." he replied curtly, forehead creased with silent irritation.
The automobile sped off of the curb into the cobblestone roads leading to the bustling crowded Square. Severus knew they had atleast a ten minute trip, which was unlucky enough considering his master's impatience.
"Severus, speed this contraption up. I'll not have us late because of your poor driving."
Severus grit his teeth. "My driving would not be seen as poor if you'd cease your wicked complaints, oh Young Master. I'm quite tired of your insesant whining."
Draco reared back as if slapped, and turned a reddened cheek to his caretaker. "You dare to speak to me as if I were some common street rat?" I'll have you sent to Kinsley for a seventh whipping, you ungrateful filth."
Severus grit his teeth, his knuckles whitening as his fists clenched the steer harder than nessecary. "Young Master, I'll advise you to hold your tounge-
"I'll advise you to bite my arse!" the blonde bellowed, shoving his caretaker into the door. The steer jerked with the motion and sent the car flying into a mock hydroplane. Draco screached and clutched the door, seeing only seconds late before the car spun into the wall of a gun shop.
Severus watched the crash in slowed motion. The friction of the car skidding against the metal outlinings of the door elicited a small but effective spark, streaming through the air into, to Severus' undisclosed horror, the barrels of fire powder settled against the wall.
Draco stared up at the hospital's rafters, a small bird tittering on the one closest to the window. Nurses talked quietly with his father outside, seemingly in whispered outrage. Draco slowly lifted a hand to his face, feeling- with a wince- the melted stretch of skin so near his now milky grey eye. He ran his fingers along the scar until he came to his hair, the left side's ends tinged with ash and black.
"...is now a revolting freak! I'll have him in my home no more, you hear? No more!" His father voiced with rage, slamming into the room and glaring over at him. Draco stared into the molten silver that was his father's eyes and cringed.
"You are no longer my son. You disgrace the house of Malfoy with a face as sickening to look upon as yours. Never set foot on our floor again." He ground out, hand tense against his walking cane. Draco said nothing in his shock, staring down at the white sheets covering his waist as his father left the room with a terrible finality.
The days following were sick. Draco had been disallowed to look into any mirror. The nurses would have him shy away from the loos and washrooms, giving him, to his moritification, a pan in which to get his business done. The shame that followed was blinding, and he chose to not eat.
"Tell me I am beautiful..." He whispered as a nurse helped him out of his hospital robes. She winced, looking away from his scarred body as he dressed in clean linens.
"I cannot lie, Youn-... Draco. You are not the beauty that proceeded the accident. That boy is gone, along with that wicked charm you so effortlessly upheld." She whispered, holding her hands to her breast.
"Let me have my reflection. Show me this horror that others see." He almost cried.
"Again, I cannot." She replied, her face set with determination.
"Please..." He croaked, whipping around and clutching her arm. She gasped and struggled to get away from his hold but he tightened his grip, staring at her with crazed eyes, one scarred by burns.
"Get off!"
"Give me a mirror! GIVE ME MY FACE!" He bellowed, throwing her to the ground. He glared down at her, grabbing a ladle from the bed table she'd rolled into the room.
"Draco, Stop!" She screamed, blocking her face as he beat down on her.
"Show me! SHOW ME!" He cried, continuously whipping her with the ladle. A hoarde of nurses, followed by doctors, ran into the room, restraining the young boy until he quieted to sobs. He fell into a light slumber as he calmed.
Draco opened his door carefully, looking down both ends of the hallway before slipping from his room and closing the door as noislessly as he could manage. He walked slowly down toward the canteen, knowing of the wall mirror settled above the wood burning stove in the kitchen. He sneaked past any and all interuptions as best he could, until finally reaching his increasingly longed for destination.
He stared into his familiar, flawless gray eyes, alight with panic and slight insanity. The left of his face was marred by burns and scars, his perfect lips now far from symetrical. He screamed at himself, curling inward.
Half his face. Gone. His left hand and arm were unrecognizably darkened, a far cry from the paleness the right half seemed to exude. His limp was obvious to him now, watching himself scramble toward his once beautiful reflection.
"YOU FILTH!" He screamed, pounding his fists into the mirror. "YOU PATHETIC EXCUSE FOR A DRIVER!" The crack that had appeared slowly grew, until the mirror shattered, shards raining onto the blonde boy, covering him with bleeding wounds. He continued to scream and pound into what was left of the mirror.
"I want it back..." He breathed, tears streaked down his face. "I want my face. GIVE ME MY FUCKING FACE!"
The night guarde ran toward the screaming, bursting into the room, struck dumb at the blood-covered eye gazing at him from the cracks. He watched, fascinated, terrified, as a burned hand slipped into the mirror, the wide eye finally disappearing into the glass.
"...What?"