:By: Camprice
:Disclaimer: These people are owned by JK Rowling, but the stupid plot is
all mine.
:Anything Else: e-mail me if you've got questions at FrodoGamgee@aol.com,
or leave a comment.
A Different Point of View
+Initial Feelings+
It was so very, very strange.
To be looking at your own reflection and not see the same person that has always stared back at you.
Harry supposed the facial features were the same. As he turned his pale face slowly from left to right, he observed his slightly high cheek bones and pointed chin, his straight nose and heavy eyebrows, small ears and thick black lashes. But he stopped there, at his eyes.
The transfiguration spell McGonagall had used had surely done the trick and now curious brown eyes stared out at him through those lashes instead of his breathtaking green irises. It was such a small thing that made such an impact on the seventh year.
He looked into the mirror but his vision sought inward as he searched himself for answers he could never find. How did people see him as beautiful? Why did girls giggle and blush when he was around? Didn't they see him the way he saw himself? Gangly and awkward, hair that was never tamed by the mighty comb, blushing like an idiot and could never get the knack of walking as smooth as snake like some people he knew.
Harry sighed and caught a last glimpse at his chapped lips stained with tiny splotches of blood as he laid the golden framed hand mirror down on his bed- Hermione would never let him live it down if she knew he had stolen it from her. But he smile nonetheless.
He wasn't going to be the center of attention anymore. Sure, the old witch had refused to rid of that damn scar, but with his hair worn a little longer now, that was hardly a problem. Though he knew it was still there. But now? But now he was the Boy-With- Brown-Eyes and no one would even give him a second glance once he wore the same dark robes as everyone else and the same dark hair as everyone else and, now, the same dark eyes as everyone else.
He was absolutely giddy as he collapsed onto his bed and laughed out loud. And that's how Ron found him seconds later. Though as the boy on Harry's bed looked at Ron, it took the red head a moment to figure out who the hell it was, which made the stranger laugh even harder.
++++++++
Draco sat cross legged, leaning back on his arms that he had holding him up like sticks used to prop up a flooding house. His room was only dimly lit by the crackling fire that hissed in its niche across the black floor, providing the only noise as well. Though the night owls hooted randomly at the full moon somewhere outside of the tower window, Draco took no notice of any of it as he looked at himself in the silver framed mirror. The ancient full body length glass was a beauty in itself as the metal women who had been sculpted into its wondrous border forever looked at her own reflection as she tilted over to the left to look into the silver pool herself. But the living breathing being that was looking into the glass was more ethereal than any of these things.
Except now, he wasn't so angelic.
The dragon had been planning the trip to Hogsmeade for what seemed his entire life, though he had only been planning on changing his appearance for two weeks or so.
Ever since he had found out about the death of his mother. And when someone had told him she had been murdered by the hands of his father, it wasn't such a surprise to him as it was.such a depressing blow.
He had been staring into the mirror then, grim determination on his face and a burning, aching hatred in his eyes. That day the snow had been falling thick like shimmering pieces of stars, so no one saw him walk into the little wooden building with a swinging sign outside of it that read Invisible. Half an hour later, Draco had walked out of the salon, hair the color of the dark that had given him a new birth that night, and no one even gave him a second glance.
Dark. Did that make him a demon now? Draco smiled and laughed at his own joke, leaning back onto the cool marble floor to stare out the window. He hadn't asked the women who had transformed his locks to do anything about the stormy color of his eyes, even though she offered with a smirk on her face. But Draco wanted to hold onto the only thing his mother had passed down to him, and he didn't want to loose that part of her too. The only real reason he had changed was to rid his self of the thought that he looked like an adolescent Lucius, and he refused to have anything to do with that demon.
Though he had to admit, he was really killing two birds with one stone. He was absolutely sick and tired of the whispering and the sidelong glances he received every time he walked within even ten feet of anyone in the bloody school. And to be honest, he was sick of it. He just wanted to vanish into the crowd wherever he went and never be noticed again.
But now? But now he was a true Slytherin. He faded into their shadowy looks and black hearts. His eyes might stare out from behind the black veil at times, but the population would just look him over- blue eyes were such a common thing.
A Different Point of View
+Initial Feelings+
It was so very, very strange.
To be looking at your own reflection and not see the same person that has always stared back at you.
Harry supposed the facial features were the same. As he turned his pale face slowly from left to right, he observed his slightly high cheek bones and pointed chin, his straight nose and heavy eyebrows, small ears and thick black lashes. But he stopped there, at his eyes.
The transfiguration spell McGonagall had used had surely done the trick and now curious brown eyes stared out at him through those lashes instead of his breathtaking green irises. It was such a small thing that made such an impact on the seventh year.
He looked into the mirror but his vision sought inward as he searched himself for answers he could never find. How did people see him as beautiful? Why did girls giggle and blush when he was around? Didn't they see him the way he saw himself? Gangly and awkward, hair that was never tamed by the mighty comb, blushing like an idiot and could never get the knack of walking as smooth as snake like some people he knew.
Harry sighed and caught a last glimpse at his chapped lips stained with tiny splotches of blood as he laid the golden framed hand mirror down on his bed- Hermione would never let him live it down if she knew he had stolen it from her. But he smile nonetheless.
He wasn't going to be the center of attention anymore. Sure, the old witch had refused to rid of that damn scar, but with his hair worn a little longer now, that was hardly a problem. Though he knew it was still there. But now? But now he was the Boy-With- Brown-Eyes and no one would even give him a second glance once he wore the same dark robes as everyone else and the same dark hair as everyone else and, now, the same dark eyes as everyone else.
He was absolutely giddy as he collapsed onto his bed and laughed out loud. And that's how Ron found him seconds later. Though as the boy on Harry's bed looked at Ron, it took the red head a moment to figure out who the hell it was, which made the stranger laugh even harder.
++++++++
Draco sat cross legged, leaning back on his arms that he had holding him up like sticks used to prop up a flooding house. His room was only dimly lit by the crackling fire that hissed in its niche across the black floor, providing the only noise as well. Though the night owls hooted randomly at the full moon somewhere outside of the tower window, Draco took no notice of any of it as he looked at himself in the silver framed mirror. The ancient full body length glass was a beauty in itself as the metal women who had been sculpted into its wondrous border forever looked at her own reflection as she tilted over to the left to look into the silver pool herself. But the living breathing being that was looking into the glass was more ethereal than any of these things.
Except now, he wasn't so angelic.
The dragon had been planning the trip to Hogsmeade for what seemed his entire life, though he had only been planning on changing his appearance for two weeks or so.
Ever since he had found out about the death of his mother. And when someone had told him she had been murdered by the hands of his father, it wasn't such a surprise to him as it was.such a depressing blow.
He had been staring into the mirror then, grim determination on his face and a burning, aching hatred in his eyes. That day the snow had been falling thick like shimmering pieces of stars, so no one saw him walk into the little wooden building with a swinging sign outside of it that read Invisible. Half an hour later, Draco had walked out of the salon, hair the color of the dark that had given him a new birth that night, and no one even gave him a second glance.
Dark. Did that make him a demon now? Draco smiled and laughed at his own joke, leaning back onto the cool marble floor to stare out the window. He hadn't asked the women who had transformed his locks to do anything about the stormy color of his eyes, even though she offered with a smirk on her face. But Draco wanted to hold onto the only thing his mother had passed down to him, and he didn't want to loose that part of her too. The only real reason he had changed was to rid his self of the thought that he looked like an adolescent Lucius, and he refused to have anything to do with that demon.
Though he had to admit, he was really killing two birds with one stone. He was absolutely sick and tired of the whispering and the sidelong glances he received every time he walked within even ten feet of anyone in the bloody school. And to be honest, he was sick of it. He just wanted to vanish into the crowd wherever he went and never be noticed again.
But now? But now he was a true Slytherin. He faded into their shadowy looks and black hearts. His eyes might stare out from behind the black veil at times, but the population would just look him over- blue eyes were such a common thing.