Whee! I got an idea for this slight 'continuation' of this fic. I hope you guys like it.
Contains more slashy fun, more angst, and more other random things, including a crying Hermione. If you fear any of these, I suggest you go run away to the mountains. Take my exams with you.
This part just tells about what happened while the pictures were being taken, and some other bits in between. I'm also planning/thinking about doing another part on their deaths. Would anyone like to see that? It'd probably be way more dark. Input would be fun. All the quotes come from Kit's Wilderness, again by David Almond. (Must keep a trend, you see.) Go on, read it. You know you want to…again, they make no sense, but because I'm strange, they do to me.
Thank you SO much to everyone who reviewed, and put this story on their favorites list. I would hug you all, but that might scare you all away. I love you all, really. I was really surprised at how many reviews I got!
To Forfirith, sure you can use that little part at the end, that flattered me, I'm glad you like it!
This story is slightly lighter, but still has its dark moments. I personally like Harry in this. The end is sort of a starting point for me, for the next part that I'm planning for this.
The Harry Potter series belong to all of the peoples that I'm too lazy to name. References to Alice Through the Looking Glass by Lewis Carrol.
Behind the Looking Glass
(They thought we had disappeared, and they were wrong. They thought we were dead, and they were wrong.
-Kit's Wilderness by David Almond, Part One -Winter)
The two boys roll their eyes, obviously annoyed.
Perhaps too blatantly so.
Secret smiles, in the depths of their mind, the thrill of touching, as they lean back to back.
Both hold their broomsticks, and smile, one boy's more brilliant, but both reach their eyes, and light up their faces. Robes flutter in the icy breeze, but they don't feel the chill as electricity surges through their bodies.
One leans back, his head resting on the other's shoulder, and he grins at the boy looking down on his with shocked jeweled eyes.
"Liking this, Potter?"
"Or should the question really be, are you?"
The boy falls silent, the grin lessens slightly. Something sparks into his eyes, a rekindled blue and gray fire.
"Leave your strange fantasies out of this, dear." A sickly sweet voice, picking words carefully. His companion tenses, and bites his lip.
A quick hand shoots out, and messes up the boy's platinum hair.
"Ooh, Potter, I'm gonna get you for that one."
Blushes, the shutter still clicks, and both boys laugh uneasily.
He turns to his accuser, who's still trying to perfect his hair, and gives him a sly grin, eyebrows raised, and nudges him with his elbow.
"Alright, you two are dismissed. Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, please."
"Give you a race, Potter."
Neither know of what horrors can be achieved in a few years time.
-
(We stumbled together out of ancient darkness, into the shining valley. The sun glared down on us. The whole world glistened with ice and snow.)
-
Harry Potter stand outside of the Burrow, a Wizarding camera in his hand.
Happy times are now far and few in between, but he hopes that this will be one more precious memory. He smiles uneasily, as the rather large family arrange themselves.
Ron's not here, and that brings a shadow to the boy's face, and it troubles his emerald eyes.
"Alright, Harry, dear, I think you can start. Take a few, incase some don't come out. I want to get them blown up, too." Comes Mrs. Weasley's slightly more aged voice. Mr. Weasley nods in agreement, now almost completely bald.
The twins laugh, and smiled widely, putting their arms around their duplicate's back. No matter how much pain they've seen, they can always bounce back with a smile. Still, their eyes are tired…
Percy smiled slightly, a smile that was only of closed lips. It never reached his hazel eyes, and his hands were clenched at his side.
Bill and Charlie smiled the kind of smile of someone who has seen many things too horrific to tell of, but still try to smile through life.
They were doing rather well at it, and smile wholeheartedly.
Ginny only stared out at the camera, her chocolate brown eyes dark and shadowed, as her attempt of a smile failed, and she closes her eyes as the camera flashes and clicks, and winces beneath closed lids.
She prays not to cry.
-
(We held our arms against the light and stared in wonder at each other. We were scorched and blacked from the flames.)
-
"Oh, Ron…" Comes the sob of Hermione, as she stands outside the school, and puts a hand to her mouth, her eyes glistening. "I can't go in there, Ron." Tears start to well in her eyes, and she clutches at Ron, her fingers gripping at his shirt.
"Come on, Hermione. It's for the school," He soothes, and slowly leads the young lady to the heavy wooden doors.
In the room, they meet Harry. He's no longer in an awkward teenage state, and continuing Quidditch has given him a body that's still quite skinny, but hints at hidden strength. He barely administered the two's entering, and Ron looked nervously to Harry, to Hermione, and back to Harry.
"Harry?" The boy turns his head slowly, his quick emerald eyes there before the rest of his face.
Hermione gasps, her hand rushes back to her mouth. A sob shakes her body, and she clutches at Ron's hand even tighter.
"I'm so sorry, Harry…" Comes her desperate plea, and a eerie half-smile tweaks the boy's face, and a cold laugh sends chills down their spines.
Harry Potter looks dead, as his head turns to fully face the two people he calls friends. Yet he sees them differently.
His slightly parted blue lips twist into a demented smile, and his eyes are shattered gems - that glint sadistically - as a chuckle escapes from his throat. His snow white face shows little sign of life, and no love for any living thing is left in his soul.
"Sorry?" He hisses, and Hermione's eyes widen. "Sorry? Sorry killed a thousand people, it crushed a thousand more lives. Sorry? Hah. Sorry was never good enough." His voice is low and raspy, and sounds strange on usually such a kind boy.
Hermione fights with her will, her breathing is heavy and disjointed, her caramel eyes are melting.
"Harry, don't say things like that to her!" Ron suddenly shouts, and Harry's eyes flash brighter.
"Why not? I'm dead, I'm going to die, and there's nothing I, or you, can do about it." He laughs, a deranged, strange laugh, that would of sounded familiar to Ginny Weasley, and even sounded familiar to Harry's ears.
It's the laugh that Riddle laughed down in that Chamber of Despair.
Ron's arm snaps out and slaps Harry hard across the face, and he can only stare in shock at the red blotch that grows on Harry's cheek.
Harry laughs harder, as he sits in the chair, bent over and twisted in some kind of sick torment, but his eyes are still broken.
He's finding this all very funny.
Someone crams something down his throat, and he swallows, gulping, gasping for air, but laughs still plague his lungs and shake his body.
The world faded to different shades of gray.
-
Snape put a hand to Harry's forehead, and nodded, muttering something to himself.
"Damn boy. Never was right in the head after that Chamber accident." He seemed to be half-talking to the two behind him.
"Sir… Will he be okay?" Came Ron's careful voice. Snape nodded, as he still towered over the two ex-students of Hog warts - even Ron wasn't as tall as him.
"Yes. He's become rather delusional these days…daylight hallucinations, I believe the Muggle psychiatrists call them. He didn't take the potion for it in the morning." Snape shook his head, and ran a hand through his charcoal hair. "I'm not sure who he saw in your place. Maybe-" The sentence finished abruptly, but Serverus was saved by the fact that Harry was coming to.
"Let's go get that picture taken."
"Yes, let's. Are you feeling alright, Harry?" Calm voices, soothing and soft.
Neither will mention that moment of madness ever again.
"I feel like someone's stabbed me through the heart."
-
(There was dried blood on our lips, cuts and bruises on our skin.)
-
These two boys are back, black suits replacing bright Quidditch robes.
"Potter."
"Malfoy."
It didn't used to be like this. Potter and Malfoy had been exchanged for Harry and Draco.
Harry approaches the black backdrop, and looks up, closing his eyes. This man is making his heart ache, making his eyes burn.
"'Don't do this to me…" He whispers to some unknown deity, and his face contorts to pain, and he looks down, away, anywhere but the sapphire eyes that are trying to find his soul.
Under the black suit, Draco's arm burns in pain. A permanent scar. One that will never leave his skin, in life or death, that's now branded onto his soul. He's no longer the master of his own fate, or even his own will. A black skull, with an emerald snake with ruby red eyes.
Another picture, another immortalized memory. Draco's hand finds its way into Harry's, and they fit perfectly. Harry turns away, and Draco begs him with his mind. To come back to him. They'll run away, leave all of this behind them.
Both know it's not so simple, life isn't one big escapade, one big soap opera. No, he can't go with Draco, no matter how much his mind and body beg him. He can't live like this anymore. He turns to the boy, and just stares with precious eyes, that tell the other so many things at once. He'll wait for the end of time, for the end of reason. Then he'll join him.
Draco can only offer a sad smile, and watches as one gold tear makes a glittering path down Harry's cheek. One pale thumb wipes it away, and stains the nail, and fades away, into his blood.
Traitor.
-
Mirrors are curious things. They show only what is there, and nothing more. People may get distorted visions of themselves, but the mirror never lies to them.
Then what is a Looking Glass? Alice fell through one, to end up back in another twisted reality.
What does a Looking Glass show? You in another dimension, another reality?
Draco often watches his reflection in his Looking Glass. He sees a Draco that is accompanied by a shadowed figure, that snakes its arms around his body, and whispers nothings into his ear.
These are the only times Draco cries. Silent tears fall from his eyes, silver and black. His body shakes with quiet sobs, with unexplainable emotion. He clenches his fists, and digs his nails into his palms, until tiny crimson droplets appear from the skin, until the pain becomes unbearable, and he cries out in agony. Blood is one of the few signs that he's still alive.
He presses his hands against the clear, cool glass, and watches the Draco inside, envying him with all his soul.
When he leaves the room, and falls to the ground seconds later, his body still, but his eyes are wide open, and stare into an endless abyss, never to focus and see ever again.
Two blood handprints remain on the Looking Glass. The Draco in Wonderland still remains, and presses his hands in the same spot, and looks out with wide sapphire eyes and blood hands. He mouths words that come out as a whispers, and echo through the Malfoy Manor, out the doors, and to the World, the Universe so that they may know of his, and his counterpart's pain.
"If the prophet dies…does the prophecy as well?"
~Finite Incantatem~
