Disclaimer: Everything belongs to the amazing J.K. Rowling. I own nothing but the plot.

A/N: TONIGHT!! AHHHH!! Harry Potter party and then OOTP!! I am soooooo excited. There won't be any updates of this story until AFTER I finish OotPwhich will be 4 or 5 days, relax (lol, DracosGurl). Then there will be a chapter a week until the story is finished, I'm guessing July sometime. Alritey, enjoy whatever celebration you're having for OotP and the book itselfbut don't forget to read and review this first!! LoLand thanks for all your reviews for last chapter!!



The Pain Within
Chapter 9: Confused Thoughts



Three days later, Draco was released from the Hospital Wing. Thanks to Madam Pomfrey's ministrations and the Concealing Potion, he appeared perfectly normal except for the sling that suspended his left arm. The school had been informed of his dreadful fall by Professor Dumbledore, a story Draco was only too happy to comply with. He didn't need the entire school speculating about his personal problems.

Which made him think: did he have problems? Sure, he had a bastard for a father, an unwanted tattoo, and was now a servant to another, but did those misfortunes warrant enough despair to kill himself? Had he tried to kill himself? These and other confused thoughts swirled around in his head as he lay in his bed each night. Every so often he peered through the bed curtains, scenes from that night flashing vividly before his eyes. He remembered the shattered glass, the ink stained wall, the ripped pieces of parchment. Why had he done it? What had made him do it?

After about three weeks of sleepless, wondering nights, Draco growled and threw off his bed covers. Slipping on a pair of shoes and snatching his wand, he left his room and went downstairs into the empty Slytherin common room. He sat in front of the practically dead fire for a while before springing back onto his feet. He felt too antsy to just sit, so he quietly snuck out of the common room to roam the dungeons. As he softly walked through the cold corridors, his thoughts plagued him again. Was he suicidal? He told his parents and professors he wasn't; but how did he know that? Perhaps he was too messed up in the head to correctly judge. He had always considered himself mentally stable and not capable of suicidal intentions. Now he just didn't know.

Whilst pondering his mental stability, Draco lost himself in the memory of that night. The thing that stood out the most was his feeling of despair. But it wasn't a depressed feeling of despair; it stemmed from anger and a pain deep within. It had felt as if he was trying desperately to grasp something that didn't exist. But what?

He slowly strolled along corridors, realizing he wasn't even in the dungeons anymore. In fact, he had no idea where he was. Judging from the large amount of moonlight filtering in through the windows, he assumed he was in the upper part of the castle. Most likely Hufflepuff or Gryffindor territory. Shrugging, he proceeded his aimless wandering.

He didn't exactly recall destroying his room. After punching the mirror and watching his image shatter into a million pieces, he shattered into a million pieces. He had lapsed into a strange frustrated euphoria and everything he had done was distorted to reflect his inner turmoil. He had not been pounding shards of glass; he had been beating the shit out of his father like he oftentimes had been. He hadn't ripped parchment; he was ripping his father's heart so it would be torn to pieces like his felt. He hadn't thrown his school belongings across the room; they were aimed at his father. The sight of the Dark Mark dragged him into a deeper rage. It embodied his father's force and influence over him. Tearing at the skin and watching the blood pour out was an adrenaline rush to Draco. Unfortunately, it only provided a temporary high and he had eventually slipped back into his normal frame of mind.

Looking around, Draco hadn't been able to believe what he had done. His room was a pure disaster. He had lost it. He had finally broke.



Meanwhile, back in the dungeons, another individual was also enduring yet another sleepless night over Draco Malfoy's problems. Severus Snape sat situated in front of a blazing fire in his living quarters lazily sipping a butterbeer. He absentmindedly stared at the crackling embers while once again brainstorming ideas to help Narcissa and Draco. He had already discarded reporting abuse to the ministry; Lucius Malfoy had too much power and money to threaten or bribe officials. It would be a futile attempt and result in horrible consequences for Narcissa and Draco. Using the Fidelius Charm was an interesting concept, but uncovering the identity of the Secret Keeper would be extremely easy. He, Severus, and Dumbledore were too obvious of choices; other than them, who else would agree? Neither Draco nor Narcissa had any other friends that would defy Lucius that way. There were other options Severus had mulled over, but he had objections to each one.

There was one plan, however, that might just work. It would be dangerous – very dangerous – for Draco. Severus wasn't sure if he wanted to put the 16-year-old at such a high risk. Even if he did, he didn't think Dumbledore or Narcissa would agree. Unless, of course, the teen insisted that he was willing to participate. And that was highly possible. Listening to his conversation with Narcissa, Severus was positive Draco had never intended to become a Death Eater; the decision had been out of his hands. And although he was scared of his father, it was obvious he hated him. How could he not, after all Lucius did to him and Narcissa? That might just be the motivation needed.

Severus decided to speak to Draco in private before approaching Dumbledore. He hoped to Merlin that he was correct in his assumptions and reading of Draco's emotions. Or he could be duck soup at the next Death Eater meeting.


Why did I break? Draco wondered to himself while still meandering through the castle. If Filch caught him, he would be in big trouble. But he was too busy to care at the moment. He didn't understand why now, after sixteen years of abuse and pain, he had fallen apart. Had the Dark Mark been the last straw and he just crumbled? Had his pent up anger finally reached its maximum and he just burst? As his footsteps echoed in the hallways, he searched blindly for answers.

Loud whispering brought his attention back to his surroundings. Paintings he had never seen pointed at him and whispered to each other as he brushed past. He glared at a few, but concentrated on attempting to figure out where he was. He pulled out his wand and muttered, In the dim light, he could see that his shoes left footprints in a large layer of dust on the floor, indicating the corridor wasn't used daily by students.

The Third Floor Corridor.

When the realization hit, Draco felt a surge of excitement course through his veins. So this was the forbidden third floor corridor the students were told not to venture down. A shiver of anticipation tingled down his spine at the thought of being where he shouldn't. All he saw were paintings and dust, so he didn't understand how anyone could die a slow and painful death. Unless they were allergic to dust. Up ahead he saw a doorway, through which the moving staircases were visible. That was it? he snorted. The scary corridor that no one was allowed to enter wasn't scary at all. Before the doorway, however, there were two doors on either side of Draco. Letting curiosity get the better of him, he approached one.

he whispered. Nothing happened. He tried the next door. And the next. At the last one, the lock clicked and he cautiously pushed open the door. He slowly walked into the room to find that it contained a sole object.

A mirror? he asked out loud in disbelief. That's why we can't go down this corridor? What a joke.

He stepped up to it and saw a strange incantation carved around the top. It didn't look like any language he knew. His eyes dropped down to the glass where he expected to see his bruised skin since the Concealment Potion wore off hours ago, but instead he sawhis father?

Draco's eyes widened and he whipped around to find no one behind him. Turning back toward the mirror, he saw his father smile and yell something. A younger Draco came running into view carrying a broomstick.

Draco watched, fascinated, as Lucius showed the younger Draco how to ride the broom. After Draco managed to fly a few feet and fall, Lucius came running up to him, grinning and clapping as he pulled little Draco in for a hug. The scene changed to a little bit older Draco and his father playing chess. Draco was bouncing up and down in his seat, clearly winning. From Lucius's smile, it was evident he was letting Draco win.

What is this? Draco wondered. Maybe it shows how life could have been? He watched more scenes fly by - Lucius celebrating his Hogwarts letter, Lucius cheering at his first Quidditch match even though Draco lost, Lucius helping him with schoolwork, and finally, the present Draco standing there in his pajamas with his smiling father behind him. He seemed to be beaming with pride and had his hand on Draco's shoulder. Draco touched his shoulder to feel nothing there. (A/N: I know, I ripped it off of Harry's first encounter with the mirror; SUE ME!!)

Draco viewed each scene twice more. They were hazy and dreamlike, and there wasn't any sound. But, in each and every one, Lucius was smiling and actually displayed affection for his son.

And so began the Mirror of Erised's hypnotic power over Draco. He left the room that night and for the first time in his entire life, felt perfectly content. His current life hadn't mattered as he stared into that mirror; all that had was that other life and seeing the love in his father's face. He didn't know how the mirror showed what it did, but it certainly wasn't the last time he would glance into it.





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