A/N Yep, another of my short, one-chapter stories. I seem to have a thing with Draco and mirrors, don't I? Oh well. Enjoi!
My name is Draco.
by electricbluecat
A boy stared into a mirror. He was naked, save for a towel around his waist. The shower had cleaned him, yes, but it hadn't washed away the dread, it hadn't washed away the pain, it hadn't washed away the fear or the remorse, and it hadn't washed away the ugly bruise painted over his left eye and cheekbone, or the cut lip he wore. Strands of wet, blonde hair fell over his face, and he pushed them back slowly.
His good looks ruined by abuse, the boy stared at his face, and his tongue snaked out to touch the cut staining his mouth, long pale fingers reached up to tenderly touch the bruise. He winced, and recoiled, as if it was the mirror which had caused him so much pain.
He leaned closer again, until his nose was almost touching the glass, and he closed his eyes, as if to shut out the world, or his reflection. He breathed out in a long, hollow sigh, misting over the glass. He pulled away slightly and watched the threads of steam melt into oblivion as his breath on the mirror slowly disappeared.
He knit his brow ever so slightly at this, and a pensive expression appeared on his beaten face. His hands gripped the white sink, and he breathed onto the mirror again.
-
It was like I was watching my life story. What looked so beautiful and tranquil slowly came to an end and was replaced by something cold and hard. I wanted someone to breathe the life back into me, like I had breathed onto the mirror, only I didn't want this life to fade away so quickly. I didn't want it to fade at all. I wanted it to last forever and ever. I wanted something true. I wanted the eternal verities of life, I wanted something pure, something untouched by lies, pain, betrayal and criticism. For a moment I thought about breaking the mirror. I wanted to shatter the image I could see…what had become of me? I had been ruined. I had been broken. I had been beaten.
It was the last part I hated. Not that I had lost my looks, not that I had been snapped, those were minor inflictions. I had been beaten, when I had so wholly promised myself that I would win the war. I had been thrown down, cast away, unloved and unwanted.
I am beaten.
I am beaten, and my name is Draco.