The Maze of Mirrors

CHAPTER 2: Crimson Dove

Draco's POV

I woke up this morning with that feeling, I do not know how to describe it, but I know it feels wrong. I tried to ignore it I really did, and I had succeeded up until breakfast that is. It is breakfast now in fact, sitting at the Slytherin table all alone, that is until the two gorilla's and the queen bitch come and sit with me, the two imbeciles in front of me, and the whore at my side, trying to earn her pay.

Pansy is disgusting. Why, in all of hell, does she think any one would pay for THAT? I know she only wants me because of my money and my fathers' connections of course. It's a fucking joke the only connections he has are with idiots like fudge and Voldemort, and with Voldemort all he does is crawl on his hands and knees for the bastard treated no better than that damned rat.

"Draco darling, why..." I cut her off.

"What the fuck have I told you, Parkinson, about calling me pet names? I am not your damned darling, now leave me alone; take the two thugs with you." Triumph, they leave, my day has just gotten better.

I look over at Potter. I mean it to be a passing glance and nothing more. I realize he is alone, and once again, he isn't eating, just moving the small amount of food around on his plate. Well at least he is not transfiguring it as he does when the lovebirds are around. They don't even notice, oblivious twits. I know I am not the only one who notices how thin Harry has become. It seems that lately Snape has been watching the boy wonder more often than not.

My interest peaks when I notice the reunion of the famous trio this morning, his friends seem to notice he does not look well, even when it took them more than two months to realize it. However, I have to admit he looks even worse this morning than usual. Oh, the Weasel really is stupid, he has no tact, and I mean really telling Harry right off the bat he looks like shit.

Once again that feeling, is it despair, anger? They are not my emotions, mine are of pure hatred, right? I watch on helplessly for a moment as Potter gets up quickly, he seems to have stood a little too quickly. He regains his balance in the blink of an eye and storms out of the great hall with one hand in his pocket; my curiosity always does get the better of me.

I get up a couple seconds after he has left and walk out trying to follow him as he storms through the main hall until he spots a something behind a statue in a small hallway near the stairs to the dungeons. He walks behind the statue and I then realize there is a door behind there as he disappears from view. He walks in, closes the door and is removed from my view for only a minute before I open the door, and I stand their like a zombie for moments that last for hours, days. Who knows how long I stand there watching blood drip down his forearms, watching as he passes out.

I stop my staring, as I realize what is going on. I walk over briskly, using my mask once again to cover any emotion, father says emotions are the enemy once you beat them you can rule the world. I take out my wand from my pants pocket; at this point, I am extremely glad I had been taking medic-wizard courses after school with Pomfrey. I quickly heal his lacerations; they leave a few thin silvery scars, simply because I am not yet that experienced at healing major injuries.

I stop and take a step back, before casting innervate on the unconscious boy. He seems confused at first, and then enraged at my presence.

"Malfoy, you mind-boggling bastard, give me back that goddamned knife you piece of shit!" Okay, enraged is an understatement.

"Why Potter, so you can try to kill yourself again?" said with enough disgust to cover all concern.

"I was not trying to kill my self, and besides why the fuck do you care? You, Malfoy, would probably dance on my grave if I did commit suicide." How can you be so blind? How wrong you are.

"Because if you were to die and I were there to stop you from dying and I didn't, that would make me a murderer; something a little too much like my father." SHIT! I did not just say that. Fuck, I am so fucking screwed.

Peeve's POV

Dumbledore, that batty old man, he and I get along quite famously, but I do not tell him what I see when I am not at Hogwarts. Poltergeist can leave a place; they can go anywhere, so Dumbledore sends me out as a spy. He does not know what I see when I am not sent to see. I went to see Potter once, oh yes I did, Peeves can go anywhere, and I am Peeves so I went to the Dursley's, Dumbledore knows nothing of this, and we will not tell him no Peeves wont. I might have a little raven-haired friend here in a while though, someone to torture and pick on. He does not deserve it but Peeves he teases new ghosties even Myrtle, the turtle.

Potter, you rotter, hehehe maybe Myrtle will still share her toilet with him.

Harry's POV

I wake up; I am hoping it was all a dream. Then I see him, Malfoy, he has. He has.

"Malfoy, you ignorant bastard, give me back that goddamned knife!" I need it back, Sirius gave it to me, and I need it back.

"Why Potter, so you can try to kill yourself again?" That jerk is messing with my mind. Is he stupid does he think I would kill my self? No, I cannot even allow my self that pleasure, because if I died then no one could destroy Voldemort, and once again, people would die because of me.

"I was not trying to kill my self, and besides why the fuck do you care? You, Malfoy, would probably dance on my grave if I did commit suicide." It is the closest thing to truth I can think of.

"Because if you were to die and I were there to stop you from dying and I didn't, that would make me a murderer; something a little too much like my father." What?

"What the hell? Just give me back my knife." He seems to freeze for a second.

"I told you to give me a good reason to give it back, now speak." If I have said it once I said it a million times, he is a bastard.

"Because, you bastard, Sirius gave it to me." He freezes in his smirking and I take the chance to grab the knife stash it in my pocket, and walk out to go to potions.

Harry walked out from behind the statue, and down the stairs to his left, without ever realizing the blood stain on his left sleeve, he didn't realize it until he was already in the potions class, in the middle of making a potion by himself for his daily grade. He only realized it then because the Potions Master stood behind his shoulder and pointed it out to the entire class.

"Mr. Potter, may I ask why your sleeve has been soaking in the blood you were supposed to use for the potion?" Harry relaxed when he realized he wasn't completely exposed. He then quickly murmured and excuse about himself being clumsy and knocking over the phial.

The entire class seemed to except the excuse except for three people one of which had been witness to the bloodletting, and the other two who noticed the phial of tiger's blood was still standing upright and full to the brim, on the boy wonder's desk.

One of these people was the same professor who had just realized what happened after what he had said. The other being Harry's friend Neville, who knew enough about accidents to know that his sleeve was not so completely soaked that it could have had something spilt on it.

After potions, Harry quickly packed his bag again, and left to go to his dorm. When he reached his room, he lay down on his bed and thought for a while. He thought about how much blackmail Draco would have on him now, and he thought about what Draco said about his father. Something he had yet to think about since he heard it that morning.

It was now lunchtime; he had fallen asleep and skipped divination after taking some of the sleeping draught he had made the night before. Neville came into the room and eyed him suspiciously before deciding to wake him for lunch.

"Hey Harry wake up, Harry? Come on pal wake up, Harry?" Neville was beginning to panic. Normally Harry woke so easily, and when he did wake he usually screamed out 'CONSTANT VIGILANCE!' something that usually made the other boys in the dorm laugh. Neville really was panicking now, so he ran down to McGonagall's office on the first floor.

Once he had stopped stuttering enough to tell the deputy headmistress what was going on they both hurried to Gryffindor tower. McGonagall tried everything, even innervate, to wake up Harry and he was not waking. She checked his pulse it was there but barely. She immediately fire called Madame Pomfrey, who noticed a small phial on his nightstand. They waited after the medic-witch checked the contents of the phial, and then administered the antidote to the green-eyed boy.

When Harry woke, he woke to the site of ten or so people, professor's McGonagall, Dumbledore, his dorm mates and a furious Madame Pomfrey; it was beginning to get dark out side.

"What have I done this time?" he was fearful that these people had figured out he was cutting.

"That, Mr. Potter is what we would like to ask you, it has taken us hours to get you to awaken. Most in this room were fearful you had died." McGonagall was the first to speak.

"Oh, crap, I am really sorry I had taken a sleeping draught, because I have been having insomnia the past week or so. The person- yea the man I bought it from in Hogsmeade must have made it too strong. I won't ever do that to you again." Harry had a talent for creating stories off the top of his head; it was required when living with the Dursleys.

Draco, had been thinking for a while know about what he was going to do about this problem with Potter, he had at first thought it would be so easy to fix once he told Snape.

Snape's POV

I had just settled down in my study for a drink of whiskey while I sorted out my thoughts about Potter, I knew he had been abused, severely so, at the Dursley's. That had been last year I found out; yet I still allowed Potter to go back, once again into their 'tender' care.

I am a monster, what have I done, now Potter is cutting him self and it is my fault, I knew, I KNEW. I could have stopped it from happening again I could have saved him. Nevertheless, no, I kept my promise; I kept my damned rivalry, even after I found out how different Harry and James are. I was a damned fool.

knock, knock

Ah, some brat most likely, wanting me to raise their grade. I do hope it is not Miss Parkinson she is most revolting.

"Professor, it is me, Draco, I need to talk."