The Other Side of the Mirror

Year Six

Chapter One

-Plans-

Draco sat by his window, looking out over the grounds of the manor. He scratched his left arm through the sleeve of his black robe. A curtain of white-blond hair fell across his eyes but he paid it no heed. He had other things on his mind.

Sixteen years old. Almost a legal wizard,he thought. Though I have more on my plate than most sixteen year olds, I'd think. My father…if only my father was here, but he made a mistake. He made the Dark Lord angry. His fist clenched as he thought of Potter. Stupid Saint Potter. Can do no wrong. It's his fault that my father is in Azkaban! Just you wait, Potter, you'll get what's coming to you. Sooner than you realize. You and Dumbledore both.

Draco closed his eyes, remembering back to that fateful night.

"Draco, hurry, we mustn't be late," Narcissa urged her son, guiding him to the hidden spot where the Dark Lord awaited. Draco knew his mother was scared, more for his sake than her own. He wasn't exactly cheerful about where he was going either, but he knew what he had to do.

"Yes, Mother." Draco had become more distant in the weeks since the school year had ended. He just wasn't in the mood to put up with people, nor to be reminded of what had happened.

Narcissa led Draco to the edge of a clearing and then let go. She turned him to face her quickly, her eyes boring into his. "Please, Draco. For your sake. Be brave."

He put a determined look on his face and took a deep breath, trying to appear stronger than he felt. "I will be fine, Mother. The Dark Lord gave me his orders and I intend to carry them out. Don't worry so much."

Narcissa seemed to hesitate, but she didn't say anything. Instead, she merely nodded, squeezing his shoulder once before letting him walk away.

Draco kept his gaze to the ground, but he knew what the clearing looked like. It was small, with dark trees bounding the grassy area. In the center was a short, stone pedestal that served as a place to stand as well as an eerie throne. Voldemort stood there, garbed in his rich black robes, his snake-like face glittering in the darkness. Surrounding him were his Death Eaters, robed in black with chilling white masks. Torches flickered from various stands, casting shadows across the ground.

Draco fell to his knees before the Dark Lord, keeping his head bowed. "I have returned, my Lord." He swallowed, closing his eyes, trying to keep his heart calm. I can do this. I will. I will avenge my father and at the same time, rise to the ranks of the Dark Lord's Death Eaters. I will be better than my father and I will prove to everyone that I am a true Malfoy.

"Yes you have," hissed the chilling voice of the Dark Lord. "Draco, you have been given an important task. Do you believe yourself capable of carrying it out?"

"Yes, my Lord."

"Then rise and show me your loyalty."

Draco swallowed and stood, keeping his eyes on the ground. He clenched his fists in an effort to keep them from shaking. I can do this. I must.

"Crucio," came the hissed curse.

Draco opened his eyes, the pain still fresh in his mind. He glanced at his left forearm, knowing what resided beneath his robes and then returned his gaze to the fog-covered grounds. Mother left again. I don't know where she went this time. The manor all to myself and my memories.

He glanced over at his bed, where his letter from Hogwarts sat. Another year. However, this one will be quite different. I've got plenty of work to do and I'm just hoping I have the strength to carry it out. I will rise above the rest and I will be the strongest of His Death Eaters.

Draco stood, moving to his desk. He picked up the Daily Prophet, glancing at the front page. The article spoke about the new Minister of Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour and how Hogwarts had taken measures such as defensive spells, charms, countercurses and Aurors to keep Hogwarts safe from the Death Eaters.

Draco laughed bitterly. "You have no idea."

He tossed the paper aside and glanced in the mirror. He had grown taller in the past year but was still as lean as always. His face had thinned and become more angular, giving him an angelic look. Dark angel perhaps, he thought. His white-blond hair framed his face, his pale skin appearing ghostly in the glass. Visits to the Dark Lord hadn't helped him and the lack of sleep was evident.

Moving swiftly, he lay down on his bed, his silvery eyes looking upwards to the canopy above his bed. Plenty have been killed already. Bones…Vance…now we have Dementors lurking about. I wonder what will happen to Azkaban, without the Dementors to guard the prisoners. Breeding Dementors…it's disgusting to think about. The Dark Mark appears over more houses every day. While I can't say I mind getting rid of Muggles and Mudbloods, its beginning to hit close to home. I know my mother worries about me constantly, though she tries to hide it. I have to be strong. For both of us.

It's hard enough to deal with Bellatrix and especially Greyback. He treats me like I'm an idiot. Like he knows any better. He's just a hairy beast, only out for blood. So he's a family friend…and he doesn't kill me because of it. That doesn't mean I have to like him. I ignore him as much as I can, but unfortunately, the Dark Lord seems to like putting me with him on Death Eater raids. Why, I have no clue. I'd much rather be with Professor Snape…though his part in this…I can't be sure. However, he's the only one I can trust, if there is such a word and it'll just have to do. I'll prove myself to him. That I can carry out the Dark Lord's wishes without hesitation. It'll be easy.

Draco reached over to where his Hogwarts letter lay and pulled out his OWL results. He unfolded the parchment and glanced over the grades.

Astronomy: O

Care of Magical Creatures: A

Stupid class anyways, thought Draco.

Charms: O

Defense Against the Dark Arts: O

Herbology: E

History of Magic: E

Don't know how I pulled that one off. It was the worst class I've been in.

Potions: O

Of course.

Transfiguration: O

Draco thought he did decently; however, he had a feeling that the little Mudblood had managed to pull off all Outstandings. It would figure as much. I know what Father would say if he was here to see these: "You can do better than that Draco. I'm disappointed in you. You're a Malfoy and you're expected to uphold our reputation. How are you planning on doing that when you can't even surpass a Mudblood?"

You're right, Father, thought Draco. I'm sorry. I didn't want to disappoint you. But he knew he had worked hard. He had studied constantly, staying up all night on plenty of occasions. However, it just didn't seem that he had the knack for being the top. He should have been, if everything was right in the world. But it wasn't. It wouldn't ever be. Unless Voldemort got rid of the pesky Mudbloods…but even then. What would happen?

He heard footsteps and sat up just as his mother entered his room. "Draco." She seemed extremely relieved and moved over to him. "Dear, you need to eat more. You're going to waste away like that. And with everything that's going on, we need you at your strongest."

He brushed her hand away when she tried to touch his face. "Yes, Mother, I know." He loved his mother dearly and would do anything for her, but sometimes she was far too overprotective.

"Yes, well." Narcissa straightened, her golden locks coming to a rest over her shoulders. "It's dinner time. We have some guests. You know how to act."

"Yes, Mother." It reminded him all too well of the many conversations he had had with his father. He did miss his father but it was life. He would deal with it.

He stood, straightening his robes. "Good," said Narcissa. "Now come down when you're ready." She turned and left, leaving Draco to look at the space where she once had stood.

As the beginning of the term drew closer, Draco knew his mother would be dragging him to Diagon Alley. As much as he hated being treated like a kid, the only way to get his supplies was to allow his mother to take him shopping. However, he had other things planned during their little excursion, business to be dealt with and the like, so as long as he could give her the slip, everything would work out.

He met his mother downstairs and they headed to Diagon Alley.

As they moved through the crowds, heading to various shops for Draco's supplies, he noticed that Diagon Alley had indeed, changed. He saw posters of Death Eaters covering shop windows and even the atmosphere seemed to be darker. Everyone moved in groups and though Draco knew he wasn't in any danger, it wouldn't be smart for him to appear that way. So, unfortunately, he was dragged along as if a child buying robes for the first time.

"Mother, why don't you get my books while I go get my robes," said Draco, pausing near the entrance of Madam Malkin's.

Narcissa shook her head. "Draco, you're not going alone. Come along. We'll just finish up here quickly. I'll even buy you new dress robes."

Draco thought about it and went to protest but upon seeing the look on his mother's face, he shut his mouth. Oh well, he thought. I'll try again soon. I really need to get to Knockturn Alley. He glanced down the street to where the darker alley branched off and then entered the robe shop.

"Ah, Mrs. Malfoy. Mr. Malfoy," Madam Malkin greeted. She smiled slightly and ushered them to the back. "You came at just the right time, not too busy yet. Now what can I get for you, dear?"

Draco glanced around and his eyes fell on a bolt of dark green cloth. It looked expensive. Perfect. If I'm going to get dragged in here with my mother, I'm going to get something good. "Dress robes. Those." He pointed to the cloth.

"Of course dear." Malkin took Draco's measurements and with a quick spell, conjured up the right amount of cloth. "Now stand up here."

Draco glared slightly, but stood. "Let's go. I haven't got all day." Borgin will leave soon if I don't' get there. "Mother, can you just get my books for me? I can handle this." Malkin began to pin up the robes and Draco held out his arms, allowing her to pin the rest of it.

"Draco," Narcissa chided. "I know you can, but it's not going to be that bad. Just a few minutes here and we'll get your books. You have plenty of time. Besides, you know very well that you're not to be wandering Diagon Alley alone, what with all the happenings as of late."

He almost retorted with the fact that he didn't have time, but stopped. Instead, he said, "I might want other robes. You can just pay now and we can get things done. Besides, why do we have to stay together? I'm not a child, in case you haven't noticed, Mother. I am perfectly capable of doing my shopping alone." He stressed the 'alone' part. He was not going to be able to do what he needed if his mother was trailing him.

Malkin clucked disapprovingly. "Now, dear, your mother's quite right, none of us is supposed to go wandering around on our own anymore, it's nothing to do with being a child – "

Draco felt one of the pins pinch him in the leg and gritted his teeth. "Watch where you're sticking that pin, will you!" He pulled away, climbing off the stool, flashing a glare at Malkin. He heard her begin to talk to his mother and just ignored it. Instead, he strode over to the floor to ceiling mirror, turning this way and that to see how the robes looked. Good. A good color for a Malfoy. He glanced up and then noticed three familiar faces standing beside a rack of dress robes. Potter, Weasel and Mudblood. Oh brilliant. Looks like Granger is sporting a nice black eye. His gaze narrowed.

"If you're wondering what the smell is, Mother, a Mudblood just walked in," he said nastily.

"I don't think there's any need for language like that!" Malkin protested, coming out from behind a rack with a tape measure and her wand. Draco saw Harry and Ron draw their wands and just held his sneer. Malkin saw the wands as well and said hastily, "And I don't want wands drawn in my shop either!"

"Yeah, like you'd dare do magic out of school," sneered Draco. He snickered. "Who blacked your eye, Granger? I want to send them flowers."

"That's quite enough!" said Madam Malkin sharply, glancing at Narcissa. "Madam – please – "

Draco watched as his mother moved swiftly over to Harry and Ron. "Put those away," she said coldly. "If you attack my son again, I shall ensure that it is the last thing you ever do."

And for one, Draco could only smirk. That's the good thing about Mother. She may be rather over protective, but I'll admire her for her strength. Anyone has to have that to deal with my father.

"Really?" said Harry, moving to step in front of Narcissa. They were the same height now. "Going to get a few Death Eater pals to do us in, are you?"

Madam Malkin squealed and clutched at her heart. "Really, you shouldn't accuse – dangerous thing to say – wands away, please!"

Draco narrowed his gaze.

Narcissa merely smiled unpleasantly. "I see that being Dumbledore's favorite has given you a false sense of security, Harry Potter. But Dumbledore won't always be there to protect you."

That's right, thought Draco with a smirk. You can't win this time, Potter.

Harry looked around mockingly. "Wow…look at that…he's not here now! So why not have a go? They might be able to find you a double cell in Azkaban with your loser of a husband!"

How dare he speak to my mother like that. Potter, you're going to regret that. That had been the final straw and Draco moved angrily towards Harry. His foot caught the edge of his robe and he stumbled slightly but quickly regained his balance. "Don't you dare talk to my mother like that, Potter!" snarled Draco. No one gets away with treating her like that.

"It's all right, Draco," said Narcissa, placing her fingers on his shoulders. He stopped, merely glaring venomously at the Trio. "I expect Potter will be reunited with dear Sirius before I am reunited with Lucius."

Harry raised his wand higher but Hermione quickly moved to intervene. "Harry, no! Think…you mustn't…You'll be in such trouble…"

Malkin moved towards Draco, going to touch the left sleeve of the robe. "I think this left sleeve could come up a little bit more, dear, let me just – "

"Ouch!" he bellowed, slapping her hand away. "Watch where you're putting your pins, woman! Mother – I don't think I want these anymore." He pulled the robes over his head and threw them down on the floor.

"You're right, Draco," said Narcissa, with a contemptuous glance at Hermione. "Now that I know the kind of scum that shops here…We'll do better at Twilfitt and Tatting's." Narcissa strode out, with Draco quickly behind. He slammed his shoulder hard into Ron, knocking him aside as he left.

That was close, thought Draco, taking a breath of relief as soon as they were outside. He glared back at the shop. Bloody Potter. What the hell did he think he was doing? He adjusted his robes, careful to make sure his left arm was covered. There was a certain mark there he didn't want anyone else seeing. He checked his wrist, however, to make sure he hadn't been pricked. Why did I even think that we should get robes in Malkin's? She nearly stabbed me to death with those bloody pins of hers. The nerve.

Narcissa glanced over the list of Draco's supplies. "We just need a few more Potions ingredients and your books. That should be it."

"Mother, I'll go get the Potions ingredients while you get my books. Don't you have guests coming tonight?" he added quickly, in hopes to be able to slip away.

"Yes, but we have a few hours. It won't be a problem to get the rest together."

Draco was beginning to become frustrated and walked over to a more shadowed area. "How difficult is it, Mother? I can handle things on my own. You know what I've gone through!" he hissed quietly.

Narcissa's gaze narrowed. "And that is exactly why I don't want you walking around. Who knows what could happen."

"Fine." Draco crossed his arms in front of his chest, glaring at her. "Let's just get the bloody books." I'll just think of something…I've got to get away.

Narcissa looked pleased. "Good." They headed to the bookstore and upon entering, Draco spotted Pansy. He groaned inwardly and made a dodge for the nearest bookshelf, not really wanting to have her see him. She would only attach herself to him and then he would never be able to get to Borgin's. However, the bright side of the situation was that Pansy's mother, Rosetta Parkinson, was there as well, and Rosetta and Narcissa were good friends.

"Oh, Narcissa dear! I haven't seen you in ages!" Rosetta exclaimed, coming over to Narcissa with a smile. "How have you been?"

"As good as we can be."

"How is Draco taking it?" Rosetta asked quietly.

"He's doing well."

Draco tuned out the rest of their conversation, seeing his chance to escape. He slipped out the door silently and made his way to Knockturn Alley. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure he wasn't being followed and then moved through the dingy streets until he reached Borgin and Burke's. It still looked the same as always, dirty and dark. A perfect place to what he needed to accomplish.

Draco moved inside quickly, glancing at the black cabinet that sat against the wall. He strode up to the counter and waited until Borgin had arrived.

"Ah, young Mister Malfoy. How can I help you today?" asked Borgin, in his slimy voice. However, there was a look of resentment and fear in his gaze. Draco smirked Good.

"There's a certain situation that needs taken care of," said Draco coolly. "I have a cabinet similar to yours and it needs fixing. Not a word of this to anyone."

"But of course."

"I don't want questions asked. We need to get this done and done quickly. He will not be pleased if this isn't finished by the deadline. I have certain things to accomplish, which are none of your concern. The cabinet in question doesn't connect to this one the way it should. If things are going to go according to plan, it needs taken care of. Now, do you know how to fix it?"

"Possibly," began Borgin, in a tone that suggested that he was unwilling to commit himself. "I'll need to see it, though. Why don't you bring it into the shop?"

"I can't. It's got to stay put. I just need you to tell me how to do it."

"Well, without seeing it, I must say it will be a very difficult job, perhaps impossible. I couldn't guarantee anything."

Draco narrowed his gaze dangerously. "No?" he sneered. "Perhaps this will make you more confident." He drew back his left sleeve, revealing the Dark Mark. The fear on Borgin's face showed it all and Draco knew that he had the slimy man in his grasp. No one messed with the Death Eaters. "Tell anyone," he said menacingly, "and there will be retribution. You know Fenrir Greyback? He's a family friend. He'll be dropping in from time to time to make sure you're giving the problem your full attention."

"There will be no need for – "

"I'll decide that. Well, I'd better be off. And don't forget to keep that one safe, I'll need it."

"Perhaps you'd like to take it now?"

Draco refrained from rolling his eyes. What an idiot…if I didn't need this cabinet for the Dark Lord's plans, I wouldn't even be putting up with this man. "No, of course I wouldn't, you stupid little man, how would I look carrying that down the street? Just don't sell it."

"Of course not…sir." Borgin bowed deeply.

"Not a word to anyone, Borgin, and that includes my mother, understand?"

"Naturally, naturally," murmured Borgin, bowing once again.

Draco turned, striding from the shop, smirking. Perfect. Now that I have that in place and once I get that cabinet fixed, everything will be in order. He should be pleased that it is all going according to plan.

Draco hurried to the bookshop, slipping back inside and selecting a book from one of the shelves. He took a seat in a chair and pretended to be reading. If his mother was looking for him, he might as well appear as if he had been there the entire time.

Good fortune seemed to rain on him that day, for Narcissa hadn't even left the shop yet, so caught up in her conversation with Rosetta. Finally, Narcissa made her way through the bookshop, spotting Draco in the back. "Draco, there you are. Did you get your books?"

"Not yet. I was caught up in reading." Draco held up Potions of This and That. "I must have lost track of the time." He wasn't one for lying to his mother, but he couldn't very well tell her everything that was going on. She knew enough, but that was it. There were plenty of things that Voldemort had spoken to him about that wasn't for her ears and would never be. Such as the connecting cabinets in Borgin's shop and Hogwarts.

"It's getting late. Get your books and we'll stop by the Alchemist's shop on the way out."

"Yes, Mother." Draco stood, putting the rather boring book away and took the book list from his mother. He began searching for the books and then he felt someone drape themselves on him.

"Draco! I've missed you," cooed Pansy.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Hello, Pansy." He began collecting books in his arms. "I need to get books, so I can't talk right now."

Pansy pouted. "Draco, you never have time for me anymore. What have you been up to?" She went to touch his arm and he moved back quickly, nearly dropping the books. His arm still hurt and the Mark seemed to burn every so often. Besides, his position was supposed to be a secret. And if a blabbermouth like Pansy ever got wind of it, he'd never be able to carry out his orders.

"I've been busy," he said curtly. "Mother, here are my books." He handed them to her and turned back to Pansy. "I'll see you on the train."

"But that's weeks from now!"

"At least you'll get to see me." He glanced over at Narcissa, watching as she paid for the books. Then she walked over, handing Draco his bag.

"Pansy, a pleasure to see you, dear," said Narcissa, but there was a cool edge to her tone. "However, our visit must be cut short, as I have some guests tonight. Come along, Draco." Narcissa gripped Draco's shoulder. "We need to be leaving."

"Of course, Mother." Draco glanced at Pansy. "Save a compartment on the train."

"I always do" Pansy smiled and Draco merely waved her off, heading out of the bookshop.