Father of Mine, part III
Summary: Draco's musing on mirrors, philosophy, and the title of 'Father' again. O.o Have no clue where this one came from.
PoV: Draco's
A/N: Special thanks are at the bottom of the page. I think I'll switch every other chapter from PoV to 3rd person. I don't think I'll make it a romance, but if anybody wants to make it one, whether it be slash or het (I'll encourage either, heehee!), just E-mail me at potionsmaster66@home.net . I'd be more than happy to let somebody steal the show! ^_^ Now on with the fic...
The Other Side
Have you ever wondered about what it would be like to be on the opposite side of a mirror? Right would be left, up would be down (in some cases, anyway), front would be back, North would be South...weak would be strong. Cowards might stand up for themselves and others while heroes sit and weep. Black could be white, pure could be evil. Everything would be contrary unto itself. I'm sitting on the sink in the bathroom, gazing into the mirror but not really seeing anything. Everyone else is asleep; bully for them. I touch the glass lightly with my fingertips, willing myself to go through it. Doesn't work. And I lose myself in reflective contemplation.
Lucius never cared that much for his wife. Narcissa tried and tried to conceive a child, a son, to make her husband happy. Finally, after three years of trying, she's pregnant. Nine months later, exactly on time, an angel was born. Perfect looking, with wispy blonde hair and milky skin. When his eyes opened, they were forget-me-not blue. Lucius nodded his cold approval at the child. Narcissa never could be with child again. Infection had destroyed her. He named the child Draco, dragon, in hopes that he would grow strong like one.
As the child grew, his eyes turned an unusual shade of greyish-silver and Lucius looked on with indifference, teaching his son with measured patience. He never showed any emotion other than disapproval towards him at home. In public, however, he only showed pride. Draco learned early how to mask his feelings, hide his emotions beneath an unpleasant smirk. The older Draco got, the more precision and excellence was expected of him. Training for the Dark Arts took their toll on him. If he produced a correct spell, he was met with a curt nod. Anything less and he was punished most grievously. Draco felt some sympathy towards the house elves after a while. The beatings grew more regular. It seemed that whenever his father came home angry, he was always to blame for the slightest thing to go wrong. And he had the scars to prove it.
The pain was never that big of a deal; he could deal with aches and suffering. The worst part was the way Lucius smiled the more he screamed for help.
Sigh. Not wanting to remember, I look deeply into Mirror Draco's eyes and imagine his life. The opposite of my life. Life on the other side.
His father taught him how to play Quidditch, laughed with him, told him stories of knights in shining armor saving damsels in distress, wiping tears away and fixing scraped knees. His mother is the picture of perfection: Beautiful, vivacious...time never seems to touch her. Her bright peals of laughter ring like silver bells on a snowy Christmas Eve. When he struggled over a particularly complex Charm, his father helped him work through it, encouragement strong. And when he finally conquers it, his father's face is lit with an almost tangible pride. He hugs his son, happiness radiating from the both of them like heat from the sun.
He knew that his father would protect his family at every expense, even die, in order to keep his family from falling into the icy clutches of the Dark Order. He as well would die instead of joining and his friends would too. It was the perfect life to live, full of contentment and bliss.
That was the definition of a father to me: Someone who wasn't afraid to show affection towards his family, who would enjoy living life and teaching his children the wondrous secrets of the world. I honestly ponder how my life would have turned out if I had been Professor Snape's child; would he be the father I've always wanted? Or would he be just as cruel? Or worse yet, crueler...? He strikes me as a person who could easily snap me in half if he wanted to, from sheer anger. You hardly ever know what he's thinking; he could be cursing you in his mind for all you know and it's bloody uncomfortable while he's staring straight at you and never says a word. Not a single word.
I'm still touching the mirror, the glass cool beneath my fingers. Too bad I can't actually go through it. To the other side. I guess I'm just going to have to be contented with musing about what could have been...
...and what was.
A/N: So, there you have it. Now for the special thanks and appreciation section. I'm sorry, but there's just so many of you wonderful wonderful peoplings out there who have the patience to read this *BEAR HUGS TO YOU ALL!!!!!* that I can't write a specialized, personal thank you to everyone. HOWEVER! That does NOT mean that I won't thank you! Ok, here we go:
*drumroll* Special thank you's out to: Kristen, Jayde, Sev's Gal, Freakozoid, Person, Hallia, ~Liz!, Kit Maxwell, Draco Malfoy N Harry Potter, Lady of the Lights, Dash, Japetha Razorwire, Amaiko, Agnes, Ginger Cat the Gun Slinger, Morbane, kitty~*, Kimagure, Miriam, ionis, Holli, and iameviltara. You guys make writing worth it!