Author's Notes:

Sorry for the delay!! BUT I have an excuse: I temporarily didn't have access to a computer ^^ The difficulties of moving…

LadyRhiyana: (as for your questions)

-"What did Snape mean when he explained Draco wouldn't be able to do magic for 12 hours, but predicted Draco would break it in two?"

It was to show Snape's very high regard of Draco. An average wizard is usually incapable of breaking the spell's effects within 12 hours, but since Snape thinks so highly of Draco, he says that Draco will not only break the spell's effects within 12 hours, but within 2 hours.

-"Are Slytherins magically stronger than other Houses?"

Not in my fic. Hermione can still kick Draco's (cute) butt anytime ^________^

Thanks to all those who reviewed! This chapter is for you ^~

Disclaimer: I do not own HP and all characters therein.

Discordant Harmony

Chapter 2

            Malfoy Manor was everything everyone expected of it. It was huge and looming even compared to the other manors in the neighboring vicinity. The outside and inside of the manor didn't greatly differ. For one, both were just as cold and two, both were just as bare. Paintings of deceased and polished ancestors decorated some walls accompanied by a few light fixtures. The most decorated was the part of the house that was off-limits to everyone other then Lucius and those he chose at the time of entrance to join him. The accents of those particular corridors and dungeons need not be questioned.

            The most used room in the whole manor was the dining area. The room itself was big and spacious, but what seemed larger still was the chandelier that hung from the high ceiling above. Looping lines weaved themselves into each other at the center and then promptly flowed outward in waves of pure gold to end, inevitably, by candles held by nothing else but magic. Below it held the long, undecorated dining table that - at the very end - was seating Lucius Malfoy and his wife, Narcissa.

            Lucius was calmly taking his tea with the Daily Prophet propped open. "Can't scorn Fudge for his stupidity. He's still calling all the attacks works of 'wannabe Death Eaters.'" He chuckled as he flipped to the next page. "Can you imagine, my dear?" He waited to hear his wife's own opinion – to hear her own scorn towards Fudge's cowardice – but the room was silent. Bending the tip of the paper slightly, he glanced towards his wife.

            She was still as beautiful as the day he wed her. The long graceful neck, the perfect smooth skin and the sharp gray eyes - gray eyes that were staring longingly towards the empty seat opposite her. Lucius own eyes traveled towards the empty chair.

            His eyes would usually land on his son, the lucky possessor of his father's immaculate blonde hair and power, but also the inheritor of his mother's sharp gray eyes and mind. 'Draco,' he thought, but then a picture of his Master came and with it his Master's words. 'Your son has chosen the side of the Phoenix. He is to be killed.' He had protested, of course, but it was futile. 'Your hand shall take his life. If you are truly my servant, you'll do this.' There was no other answer or he would have died on the spot. 'Yes, Master.'

            A cool voice sliced into his thoughts: "I want my son back."

            Lucius looked towards her. Her eyes rose to meet his. "I don't care what He says – I want my son back!" Her voice was just as steady as his, but years together allowed him to know the truth behind that steady voice. Her eyes were wide and glossy and he put his hand atop hers.

            "He hears and sees all, my dear. Choose your words carefully."

            Narcissa nodded as she took a sip of tea. Her hand was trembling. Lucius stroked it. "For now, don't worry," he whispered gently to her as he tugged her to come towards him. She obeyed and got up to sit on his lap. He laid her hand slightly above his heart. "He's still alive."

            Narcissa nodded yet again as she unbuttoned her husband's shirt and opened it to display the black dragon symbol that was emblazoned on his chest, and her son's. The dragon seemed to be moving. "As long as it's there, Draco's fine." But Narcissa didn't hear it as she was tracing the dragon mark carefully with her finger. She was memorizing it again even though she already had years past. "Love," he tilted her chin up so their eyes met. Seeing he got her attention, he stroked her cheek softly as he again marveled at his wife's beauty. Her fingers were still caressing the dragon mark. "I'll get him back."

            "Promise?" He remained silent.

            After buttoning his shirt back and clasping on his cloak, she got up. Walking towards the door, she turned. "If you love him, you will get him back. If you love me, you'll protect our son from Him." Turning around and opening the door, she added, "Or I will never forgive you."

            Lucius watched as she walked out and closed the door. He watched as the doorknob wound back to it's original position and stilled. His hand reached towards the dragon on his chest and it stayed there for a while. Siding with Voldemort meant protection for Narcissa – his wife and love. Siding with Voldemort meant protection for Draco – his son and his heir. This was to keep them safe. But now one was to die because of it. 'This isn't how it's supposed to be.'

            "M-master?" a highly nasal voice interrupted him from his thoughts. His eyes turned towards his newly acquired house elf. Jive, wasn't it? "There's a Mr. Borgin at the front door. He said –"

            "Show him in."

            "Yes, Master." The house elf disappeared from the doorway entrance and after a few moments Mr. Borgin, the owner of Borgin and Burkes, appeared.

            Lucius still had his hand to his chest. Closing his eyes, he inhaled. "I presume you have it?"

            "Yes," Mr. Borgin said as he took out his wand and magicked something that was behind him. A medium sized box, large enough to fit a decent cauldron, floated into the room. "Rather hard to find these, nowadays, since most were destroyed when the Dark Lord was destroyed." Lucius eyes fixed on him, his eyebrow raised.

            "Destroyed? Lord Voldemort was never destroyed."

            Mr. Borgin smiled as he ran a hand through his greasy hair. "So it's true - all the talk about Him rising again is true? Has He truly come back?" Lucius remained silent. "Oh, Mr. Malfoy! Is this for Him?" He swished his wand and allowed the box to settle down on the floor next to Lucius. "If so, Mr. Malfoy, please tell Him that Borgin and Burkes is always open to His needs."

            "I'm sure, Mr. Borgin," Lucius responded as he picked up the box. "Thank you for your troubles."

            "No, thank you, sir," he responded eagerly as he cast the spell to open the box. As the box opened, black light poured out and when it cleared, a mirror lay at the very bottom. Lucius bent forward and brought forth the item. It wasn't distinctive in any way. The silver polishing around the mirror was even already corroding. The mirror itself appeared dulled by the passage of time and the lack of attention given to it. Lucius felt a scowl form – how could this be…? "Don't be fooled by its appearance, Mr. Malfoy," Mr. Borgin said as he stepped forward towards the mirror. "It took many Muggles' lives due to its seemingly ordinary appearance."

            "Are you comparing me to a pathetic Muggle, Mr. Borgin?" Lucius asked, his passive demeanor still intact, but an icy edge now interlaced into his words. Mr. Borgin took a slight step back.

            "O-Of course not, Mr. Malfoy," he began. "I didn't think before I –"

            "As you clearly showed," Lucius said. "What a pity the mirror hadn't claimed your life as well. Much less of a nuisance you'd be and it'd also do you a favor: shut you up for eternity. Then there'd be no need to have to, how would you say it?, 'think before you speak' no?"

            Mr. Borgin bowed his head, more so to conceal his rising anger then for obedience. "You are right, Mr. Malfoy."

            "Yes, I am, aren't I? Especially since the customer is always right." Lucius turned the mirror and caught his reflection. At first the image before him was dull, but as he stared longer, his blur-like appearance began to sharpen clearly defining his physical attributes. In the background of his reflection (what should have been the high-backed black chair) were faces – dozens of faces contorted and in pain. "Especially me."

            "Yes, Mr. Malfoy."

            "Do you know the origins of this mirror, Mr. Borgin?" Lucius asked as he tore his concentration away from the glassy surface. He could already feel the mirror's effects – the mirror was already calling for his soul. Mr. Borgin shook his head.

            "Salazar Slytherin created this mirror – the glass was supposedly contrived from the venom of his personal Basilisk. It was forged to do what the Basilisk was capable of doing: kill those that looked towards it. Salazar Slytherin planned to give the mirror to all the Muggles that attempted to attend Hogwarts, but during the creation of this," Lucius held up the mirror so that it caught Mr. Borgin's reflection, "Repercus, Salazar was still in Hogwarts arguing with Godric Gryffindor. When Godric found out about Repercus he was in an uproar." With a slight tilt of the mirror, the reflection not only caught Mr. Borgin's reflection, but Mr. Borgin also caught his on the mirror. "Naturally, all-righteous Godric couldn't allow such a dangerous item to exist. He attempted to destroy it, but was incapable of doing so. The mirror was forged too well. The other two founders tried to destroy it, but they too were incapable."

            Lucius's eyes traveled to Mr. Borgin. His wand lay forgotten on the floor – his pupils were dilated. A smirk traveled its way towards Lucius's lips. "Not knowing what else to do, they confronted Salazar Slytherin about it. He was to either destroy it or they will punish him by taking his life. He was strong, but even he couldn't take all three founders at the same time. However, he couldn't destroy what he forged either and, therefore, in an attempt to appease the founders (and therefore save his life) he cast another spell upon Repercus that made it of some use. For Repercus will be capable of locating any person despite whatever magic may cover them. But, the Basilisk venom was still in the mirror and thus it's thirst for life – and this, Mr. Borgin, is what greatly appeased the founders."

            Mr. Borgin, however, was now kneeling upon the floor, his shoulders slack and his chin resting heavily on his chest. "For the only life Repercus is capable of taking is the life of those who had done evil – great evil, Mr. Borgin. Just like the taking of numerous lives without guilt. And with that life is the payment for Repercus's services." Mr. Borgin's body thudded towards the floor. The corroded silver flashed and in an instant, the once old, dull mirror turned into brand new. Lucius turned the mirror to face him and he met Mr. Borgin's contorted and horrified face. "And you, Mr. Borgin, killed for this mirror. You are its payment."

            The mirror's surface shortly began to swirl black and in another moment, it cleared to show Lucius's reflection. "Repercus," he whispered and the mirror responded to its name as it floated out of his hand and positioned itself in the air in front of him. "Locate: Draco Malfoy."

i.

            Hermione stared at the light that was shining weakly at the tip of Draco's wand. A wand that was shaking. A hand that was trembling. Hermione looked again at the boy she thought she knew so well and realizing how wrong she was. The gray eyes were still there, the pale and pointed face, the thin lips and blonde hair and yet... there was something else. Something else about his eyes. And then she saw it.

            Yes they were gray; they were deep and gray and mesmerizing. But now they were also open. Unguarded. They were full of emotion – full of relief. And it was that, that one thing that made him so different. He was showing an emotion.

            He was unmasked.

            To her disappointment, Draco recovered and began waving his wand threateningly at them in a spar-like fashion. "What were you saying, Weasley?" He said. The openness was gone. The emotion erased.

            Ron frowned. It should have been impossible to break the potion's effects - even temporarily - in less then half an hour. And yet, Draco broke it in less then 5 minutes. "How'd you do that?"

            "Because you fibbed, Weasley," Draco said, feeling in his own element. This was the same. This arguing – this feeling. "There is no such potion that can produce effects to limit a wizard's power when he or she is in dire need of it. The natural instinct within any wizard or witch is to use magic – it cannot be controlled."

            "Then why didn't it work before?"

            Draco sputtered, not knowing. He wasn't even sure whether what he said was true or not. But, it did make sense. The light at the tip of his wand proved it. "It doesn't matter now, now does it?" Waving his wand yet again in front of them, doing a quick slash, he added, "Now move, Weasley."

            "Or what?" Ron smirked, not moving an inch away from his position of blocking the doorway. "Going to light me to death?"

            "No, but I can stab you, can't I?"

            Ron withdrew his wand and held it out in front of him. "Since you just threatened me, Draco, I do believe it's in my right to use magic in self-defense." Moving his wand upwards, he said, "And unlike you, I have no potion effects to subdue me in anyway."

            Draco was faster. "Bilarious!" The small light that had shone so weakly at the tip of his wand burst brighter, filling the room with such an intensity of light that all that had faced the wand was temporarily blinded – except for the caster.

            The effects could only last for a few seconds, but Draco didn't waste them. Once the spell left his mouth – and after he felt a short, but powerful wave of dizziness engulf and leave him – he was already on the stairs jumping downwards, not caring that as each flight he descended, the contents of his stomach was increasingly progressing to come spilling out of his mouth. By the third flight ('HOW MANY FLIGHTS ARE THERE!?!?' Draco thought) he could hear the loud cursing of Ron.

            'Just run,' he thought as he willed his feet to move faster. By the last flight his legs slightly gave way, making his body bang against the landing floor, but he scrambled up and stood in what the Weasley's must have called their living room. The whole place looked cluttered and the materials of the furniture were so worn that Draco had to flinch in momentary disgust. 'By Merlin… they really are–' But he couldn't think of that now since he could hear footsteps descending (quickly) down the stairs.

            "Do they not know how to stay quiet for at least –" A woman was coming from his left. He didn't see her, but by the 'tsk'-ing she was doing, she was close. Draco made a mad dash to his right, wondering where the hell the exit was in this damn Weasley maze. The swinging door led him to another room in the Weasley house and from the sink that was cleaning dishes and the refrigerator that seemed to be smacking at him, he realized he had just entered the kitchen. A grimace made its way to his face. Do they not know how to clean? But as he tried to survey the room for an exit outside, he realized that the kitchen wasn't dirty (it was actually very clean) but it was the state of the furnishings that ruined the room. The wood was chipped and the paint was peeling…

            Someone crashed into someone since Draco could hear the resounding flesh upon flesh from where he was. "RON WEASLEY!!!!" That same feminine voice from earlier screeched out and Draco heard a lot of mumblings and further crashes of flesh upon flesh.

            Draco felt the corner of his mouth quirking upwards. 'Only a Weasley.'

            A screeching sound from his immediate right was heard seconds before a hard, but feathery, thing collided with his skull. As he stumbled backwards, his shoulder banged against the wall and the mumbling outside the door stopped. 'What the hell –?' When the stars cleared, in his hand was an owl. If he had the time, he would have stomped it into oblivion, but as he heard footsteps nearing him, all he could do with it was throw it (as hard as he could) to the other side of the room. He awaited to hear the crash of owl against wall, but he heard nothing. He looked up and saw an open window. Next to said open window was a door. 'Found you…'

            "STOP!" It was Ron. It seemed to always be that infuriating dolt that kept opening his mouth. Draco turned around and there he was (and, Draco noted with satisfaction, Ron had a bump forming on the right side of his head) with the rest of the entourage behind him. All were panting.

            "And who made you boss, Weasley?" Draco asked. With a smirk that made Ron's fists clench, Draco dashed towards the door. The door gave way with his push and he was out. The sun was high in the clear blue sky. The birds were chirping, the grass was green, and the heat was intense. Draco staggered as the exertions he just pulled were really beginning to take effect. His stomach's contents (that had been steadily rising since his descent down the stairs) reached his esophagus making his throat constrict. His head spun and he had to grasp the doorknob to stop from falling. His eyes focused on the fence that was only a few yards ahead, but seemed further.

            "Just get past the fence," he said aloud, his eyes closing as he tried to gather his surroundings. The doorknob he was holding was close to being yanked out of his hands when Ron reached the other side. "Just get past the fence, Draco, get past it…" Turning around towards the door, he raised his wand. "Occludes!" The spell worked. Draco watched as his gray light hit the door making it temporarily impenetrable and as the people on the other side cried in surprise. For a moment he felt the hard ground beneath him give way, but as he clenched his fists to his head, the feeling stopped and passed. The ground came back. The door with the peeling paint was in front of him. Towards his back was his freedom.

            'But to what?' He thought as his father's image came accompanied by the image of Voldemort. His red eyes… that ugly and evil face… the dead bodies…

            "Damn it! Step back!" It was Hermione's voice that reached his ear and woke him out his daze. "Dissip–"

            Before she could finish her spell, Draco regained control of his legs and was forcing them to run towards the fence. The first two lunges forward went by fine, but by the third he was gasping by the seemingly lack of air. By the fourth his body got heavier causing his legs to shake. At the fifth lunge forward he almost fell as something seemed to have fallen onto his shoulders. The air was getting heavy – he was being pushed towards the floor by something he couldn't see.

            'Bloody hell,' he thought as he forced his legs to rise despite the invisible pressure that was pushing his body downward. 'Damn it, damn it, damn it… I will not give up!' He forced his leg forward and he took a step.

            The backyard door cast open and he could hear as the Weasleys were running up from behind him. Granger's spell had broken his. Draco had to compliment her if she wasn't so damn annoying. The air was getting heavier and his head was beginning to spin. Collapsing to his knees, he stared towards the white fence when he saw it. It was a quick flash, but it was there. Two burning eyes that were in slits formed briefly against the white paint of the fence and what followed was a burning – an intense burning coming from his chest – from his dragon.

            His birthmark – his dragon – had turned bright red.

ii.

            The spell was strong – shockingly strong.

            Ginny Weasley staggered backwards till her back hit the wall as if the light was some vicious beast trying to rip her into shreds. Well, it was somewhat. Her eyes felt as if they've already been ripped into shreds. She wasn't just shocked about the intense light, however. The fact that Malfoy was able to do any magic was still astounding her.

            When the light cleared Malfoy was gone. The banging against walls and stomping of feet told everyone he was still descending the stairs. In a heartbeat, everyone was running down the stairs after him. Ginny stayed behind, of course. There was no use joining the bunch to go chasing after him. Even though he broke the potion's ban on spell casting, the potion still had within its contents Jinhryn, a powerful and rare plant that if consumed would cause the consumer to be incapable of walking any further then 8 feet, the length of it's roots. In potion form, however, Professor Snape must have grinded the roots and sprinkled them around her house – not even Dumbledore could break the plant's effects.

There was no use worrying over Malfoy escaping.

            Ginny smirked. 'Since mom's fixing the garage, the only way he could go is to the kitchen,' she thought as she went to the window that faced the backyard. 'And the only way out from there is –"

            A silhouette of a boy came bursting out of the backdoor and Ginny heard 'Ta-dah!' make it's way across her mind. Draco Malfoy. Whenever she saw him in school, he always looked so collected and reserved – he was assured of himself and who he was going to be. He was also a complete prick. But now…

            Ginny's brow furrowed. Now, he looked malnourished and sick. His shoulders were heaving as if strained (most likely were) and by his slight sway and shaky grasp of the doorknob, she knew he was at the brink of fainting. But he didn't faint; she didn't expect him to.

            When it was her turn to watch over the slumbering Malfoy, she expected to see what she always saw: a vulnerable face. Ron looks vulnerable when he sleeps, her father looks vulnerable when he sleeps, even Harry looks vulnerable, but Malfoy looked far from it. It was a bit scary seeing a bruised face that still looked just as dignified and collected as when those swollen eyes were open. It was odd, but it fitted him: a man without vulnerability.

            And yet, looking down at him grasping that doorknob in an attempt not to faint, she couldn't help but wonder who he is. Is he really that self-assured guy? Is he really so collected? Looking down at him, she could hear 'no' echoing the questions. For the boy down there looked lost. Lost and confused.

            Draco seemed to have cast another spell since a flash of light hit the door and Ginny could feel the magical attributes of it. Again, it was surprisingly strong for someone who still had the potion in his system. But then she saw it – she saw the effects of casting a spell. Draco teetered and almost collapsed if he wasn't so damn determined to not fall. Within a heartbeat he recovered (but by the haggard face he wore Ginny could see it was no easy feat) he was sprinting towards the fence. Halfway there he staggered. By the quick flash of gold on the grass he stood, she knew that it was Jinhyrn's effects he was undergoing.

            'You can't break this one,' Ginny thought as he struggled. 'So just stop.'

            But he didn't. He got back up and took another step. This time he fell down lower. Her lower lip made it's way between her teeth and she had the odd urge to scream at him for being such an idiot. To scream at him to stop because all he was doing was hurting himself. She wanted to scream at him to stop hurting himself – to stop hurting. But that was a quick urge that came and went before she could really grasp it and she was left standing at the window to watch in a quiet and confused anxiety.

            A blast of wood hitting stone resounded from what used to be her backdoor, but was now just a few remnants of broken wood. Hermione broke Draco's spell. As for him, he was kneeling on the ground and Ginny felt the anxiety filter its way out of her. He had finally gotten it through his thick skull – he finally submitted to Jinhryn's will. But as her eyes traveled over his body, she noted that his head was bowed causing her to be incapable of seeing his face, but he was clearly looking at something. His chest. Her heart felt as if it missed a beat. Red shone against the sun's rays. Was he bleeding?!

            "Fred! Don't!" She yelled, but Fred's feet were off the ground before her words reached him and his too-tall frame was careening itself towards Draco's back.

            She ran for the door to the staircase.

iii.

            Ginny was a fast runner (more due to her lithe frame then actual height – she was, fortunately, gifted with her mother's height and not her father's) but she wasn't fast enough. By the time she reached the backyard to the stifling heat, not only was Fred on top of Malfoy, but George, Ron and Harry.

            She was relieved to see a squirming and not dead Draco beneath them. "Get off of me you bloody–!" She heard a muffled yell that could only belong to him. Harry, having the common sense to realize that Malfoy couldn't least that long beneath all of them, got up and pulled the rest of them off. Draco Malfoy was lying face first in dirt, breathing heavily and looking furious. Tired and worn out, but furious. "What spell did you put on me, Mudblood?" Draco spit out towards Hermione and everything Ginny thought as she watched him struggle to the fence flew out the door. Draco Malfoy lost and confused? Her bony little ass!

            Ginny, though not receiving the legendary Weasley height, made up for it by receiving the Weasley temper tenfold. Having Draco Malfoy fool her by sympathizing with him undid the lid. Erupted the volcano. Or, Ginny's personal favorite, sprung forth the Weasel. "I can't believe you!" She screamed. It seemed that no one had noticed her arrival since everyone, including Malfoy, gave a startled jump. Malfoy's eyes swiveled to her. "Mudblood? Mudblood!? Hermione, and the rest of us, worried about you and instead of being grateful of having your bun saved by Voldemort," she noticed that at the mention of the name, his eyes clouded, "you instead act like an asshole by blinding us, running away and now calling one of us that filthy name." Ah… there, that felt better. But the angry Weasel was sprung forth and it wouldn't stop there. Her feet had a will of it's own – her hands as well. Somehow she had stomped her way next to his laying body and she kneeled down beside him.

            "Aren't you at least going to say something? 'Thank you for saving me' should be among the first things coming out of your mouth, but as for right now what I should be hearing is 'I'm sorry Hermione for being a complete bastard.'" She sat there, returning his burning gaze with her own. She was surprised at herself. These temper flares were rare and far between.

            "How about this?" Draco finally began to drawl as his eyes left hers and they were now staring straight at the cloudless sky above. "I couldn't care less of what you guys did because I don't need your help." Ginny felt her fists clench. And the weasel was so close to going back into its little box deep inside her too. "I don't CARE for your help. I don't WANT your help. Especially when it's help from Weasleys and a Mudblood." His eyes were again on hers. They were challenging her. Those deep gray eyes were challenging her to do something about that. God, what a bloody pain in the ass.

            "Is that so?" she asked, standing back up. "You don't need our help, is it? Well then, fine. Don't accept our help. Lay there for as long as you wish. When you finally decide to get your head out of your butt and realize that you're in no position to be talking all high and mighty," she dug through her pockets and took out the new prank toy that Fred and George had 'tested' on her previous Draco's awakening, "squeeze this." She put the small round ball into his free hand. By the look in his eyes, she knew he wanted to throw it, but he was physically exhausted and he lacked the strength to do so. "Until then, lay there and rot."

            She turned around and motioned everyone else to follow her. Her brothers each looked at her apprehensively and approvingly, following her retreat back to the house immediately. Harry was slower to react, still shocked in seeing the timid and quiet Weasley girl act like… like that… and only followed after her when he recovered from that shock. Hermione was less willing to leave Draco lying on the ground, but she eventually followed as well. Better for Draco to understand his position now then later.

            When Ginny reached the footstep to get into the house, her temper had tampered off slightly and with it her resolve. She gave one last glance towards the prone body. He hadn't moved an inch. His eyes were still directed to the sky. She wondered what he was thinking. Her temper tampered off some more and her resolve to leave him there was quickly slipping away. About to turn back and tell her brothers to carry Malfoy inside, she felt something whiz by her face and at the wall. It was the newly made Garlo, her brother's newest invention that when squeezed would rush towards the nearest person and transform into what that person feared most for a few seconds. When thrown at a high velocity against a wall, it breaks.

            The toy she had given Malfoy to call her was now splattered against the door, broken.

            Ginny swirled around and glared at Malfoy who had propped himself up to throw Garlo. He was smirking. "I don't need help!" He yelled before he promptly fell back down. 

            The weasel was sprung. Her resolve came back. "We'll see! I give you two hours before you start crying for us to help!" Twirling back around, she stomped into the kitchen.

iv.

            Two hours past that soon led to five. Then eight. The sun was down.

            Ginny Weasley was biting her nails.

            The family sat around the kitchen table, quiet, eating their dinner. Ginny couldn't eat. She glanced towards the clock and then towards the newly acquired backdoor (after Hermione profusely apologized for the broken door, she and the boys made a temporary replacement). 'That stubborn brat,' she thought as she again glanced towards the clock. The day was very humid before, but the temperature was quickly dropping. He was only wearing that silken robe… it couldn't be very warm…

            "Getting awfully cold fast," Percy said as he tried to break the tension Ginny's mood was creating. Ginny looked at him, her fear confirmed. "Draco must be…"

            "Cold, right?" Ginny said, mumbling more so to herself then to her brother. "And hungry. Must be starving right now. He hasn't eaten in two days… you don't think…?"

            "It was your idea to just leave him out there," Ron said. "He is a prick, but just leaving him there seems a bit… extreme… especially since he can't even get up."

            Ginny bit her lower lip. "But it's his fault. He has to realize–"

            "I agree with Ginny," Hermione said. Ginny gave her a grateful smile. "But," Ginny's smile vanished, "Draco must be going through hell as it is. He just betrayed his father who he admired so highly. His world is being turned upside down. He's confused and probably scared and he doesn't know how to cope with it. So he's acting like this – like the way he always acts. Behind a mask. Behind a façade because he's not used to it being any other way at a time when he practically lost everything."

            The table became silent. Ginny lowered her head, her hands twining anxiously on her lap. If that's so, then –

             "I'd appreciate it, Mudblood," a drawling voice said from the doorway. Ginny jumped as did everyone else, "if you stop talking about me as if you knew me." Draco Malfoy was leaning against the doorframe dirty as hell and staring daggers at Hermione. Five gnomes were crowded at both his ankles. "Because you don't."

.:. TBC .:.

Haha… is it just me, but after I wrote/edited this chapter, whenever I came to the part of the mirror (Repercus) the thought of Beauty and the Beast (specifically Beast's mirror) kept flashing into my mind?? Don't worry, I intended no rip-off ^^ I think…

Next Chapter: Lucius visits his son. Also: all magical items have consequences for their use (other then payment); Repercus is no exception.

.:. cyn .:.