Title: That Kinda Love Just Ain't For Us
Summary: What if Harry Potter wasn't the only weapon in The War against Voldemort and the Death eaters? What if Draco had a friend who cared more for him than the mask he wears? Would anything change at all?
Word count: 1,212
Timeline: Hogwarts first year
Genre: Friendship
Pairing: None yet
Rating: T
a/n: I've been writing this all 2016 whenever reality became too much to handle. There isn't any violence or sexual content in it. But there are a lot of Original Characters.
x-x-x
"Are you sure it was okay to tell him that you're friends with a Hufflepuff? And how are you friends with him anyway? I thought Slytherins were supposed to hate students from any other house? And stop going so fast!"
Ethan sighed and paused, letting go of her hand. "I told you. I saw something amazing last night! You've GOT to see this!"
"What exactly did you see?" Cassandra asked, suspicious. She tugged the heavy cloak more securely around herself. She'd learned the importance of proper attire the first time she'd been out after curfew. Ethan ran an agitated hand through his dark hair, leaning against the wall opposite to her.
"You wouldn't understand. You'll have to see it, trust me." He sighed. "And don't be silly. The reason I can't be your friend in public is different. You're Muggleborn, and I'm from the family of a- uh- a pureblood family. It would create all kinds of trouble for you. Shiro is a pureblood, he's been my friend for years. He's okay."
"If you say so." She still sounded uncertain. Nevertheless, she followed when he started walking down the corridor once again.
x-x-x-x
"It's gone."
He sounded forlorn. She stared at the nondescript abandoned classroom. Indeed, the floor bore the mark of something that'd been removed recently, the uniform layer of dirt seemed disturbed along a corner of the room.
"What was it?"
He sank to the floor, sitting amidst the dust, curling in on himself. "You wouldn't understand. . . I wish I could see it once more. To know it wasn't a dream."
It wasn't a dream. . . was it?
He started at the gentle touch against his shoulder. She was sitting beside him, on the dusty, grimy floor. She pinned him with a steady look.
"Tell me." She said simply.
So he told her.
x-x-x-x
(the night before)
He had trouble sleeping, for as long as he could remember. Always had some monster lurking in the crevices of his mind. Exploring the castle after curfew had become his second nature. By some immense stroke of luck, he hadn't been nabbed by Filch or Mrs. Norris yet. During one such exploration, he came across an empty classroom.
Moonlight shone on the pristine silvery plane of the mirror, and Ethan felt compelled to move closer, see his own reflection. He wasn't prepared for what the mirror showed him.
It was definitely himself, but at the same time he was a complete stranger. The man in the mirror was about a decade older than him. He had a dark ponytail swung up on one shoulder, dressed in a standard garb of Art Mage. The subtle cut and ornamentation were evident enough. But more than that, the Ethan Strider in the mirror had eyes that hosted a sea of calm and contentment. The shadows surrounding him shifted, and there was a hand intertwined with his.
The stranger in the mirror smiled. Ethan turned away and ran.
x-x-x-x
He'd went back to his dorm, narrowly avoiding being detected by Peeves. After giving himself some time to cool down, he'd thought about the bizarre event, the ethereal mirror, what he saw. He'd attended the classes in a daze, ate next to nothing and poured over any book he thought was relevant.
Then, right before Madam Pince was about to throw him out of the Library, he'd found what he'd been looking for. A reference to the Mirror of Erised.
The inked version failed to even grasp the elegance, the allure of the actual mirror. It was true, then. He'd actually seen the mirror, seen his heart's desire. But it can't be. It can't be. Ethan shut off the book and returned it back to the shelf. It wasn't true. Even in the privacy of his heart, he couldn't harbor the desire to become an art mage. It was too. . . unheard of, for a scion of the Strider family. Too common, too unusual, too eccentric.
And yet, it was exactly what he desired, he sighed as he accepted that after hours of staving off the thought. The thought scared him more than any monster ever had. Shiro poked and prodded, but somehow Ethan clung to the memory, hid it, didn't even utter a word about it. As if doing so would take away the memory. Also, Shiro was too clever for his own good, damn his Ravenclaw brain. At the first mention of the mirror, he would wheedle everything Ethan had seen, heard and thought. He didn't want anyone to know his deepest, darkest desire, thank you very much.
For a brief minute he wondered if it was normal. If this was what most people would desire. Wouldn't family be more important? Or a future, maybe a career. Some people saw themselves in a vault at Gringotts, surrounded by gold. Why couldn't he have a desire like that?
Agitated, he remembered it was Friday night. Cassandra would be doing her arithmancy homework down in the kitchen, usually with his help. He contemplated just leaving to visit the mirror. But he hesitated.
Maybe she'd understand his desire to be . . . different. After all, wasn't she very different from everyone she'd grown up with?
x-x-x-x
The house elves gave her looks of pity as she stuffed her face in a pillow, the half-done homework lay forgotten by the blankets. The symptoms of her unfortunate sickness hadn't gone away yet, and she slumped in front of the fireplace. She'd almost made up her mind about sleeping right there when there was a very loud bang. It jarred her out of stupor. But there was a hand pulling her out of the warm cocoon. She resisted feebly.
"please, come with me. You must see something." He'd said, and seemed deaf to any of her protests. They'd set off to find the mirror then.
x-x-x-x
(The present)
They sat in the shifting shadows for a long time after he'd finished talking. His thoughts skipped around, colours dancing behind his closed eyelids. He was tired, and yet he felt oddly jumpy.
She broke the silence first. "You know, Ethan. . ."
"Don't use my given name." He sighed distractedly. She was so inappropriate all the time.
She ignored him. "Do you recon they moved it someplace nearby? We could look for it. The mirror, I mean."
He frowned. "I don't think they'd keep it somewhere we could find it easily." Better to just forget about it and-
"Oh come on!" She stood up and stumbled a bit, looking pallid. "Let's just go and look. It couldn't hurt to look, surely."
"Surely, yeah. Except we could get caught and get detention." He said Dryly.
That didn't stop her from dragging him off. And checking all the unlocked classrooms. And almost falling asleep on her feet. And chattering incessantly about the time she'd wanted to become a princess, an air hostess, a pilot, a warrior, a model, a millionaire, an angel and some other stuff he couldn't even remember. In the end he had to escort her to the Basement (again). By that time the horizon was growing pink and Ethan felt a smile tug at his lips as he succumbed to the pull of a deep, exhausted sleep.
x-TBC-x