Chapter 6: Mirror's Story

Disclaimer: You know, if I had long enough, I could probably construct an argument to the effect that, according to the nature of space and time, the infinite dimensions of reality and mathematical probability, it is actually impossible to be certain that I am not J.K.Rowling. But I can't be bothered. Thus, I'm not J.K.Rowling, and don't own Harry Potter.

Thanks for 140 reviews goes to: lade dah, Simpson-Girl, Sor079(x2), Paganicewand, jules37, Beauty Full, Angel, girliedragon, Flexi Lexi, taragoddess, Stefy, Hp1fan, no name, simrun, bibleeohfile, Kippen, willowfairy, Chiinoyami-chan, DracMione, Celestial Eclipse, mesmer, Pheonix, Saotoshi, heavengurl899, Ms. Lit, PinkTribeChick, Plaidly Lush, Go10(x3)

A/N: I really, really have to thank everyone who reviewed last chapter a million times over. While my writing was back to normal last week, my life took a rather nasty twist… Exactly seven years ago this very day, I met a boy called Joshua, when he transferred to my school. We became friends. He was my first crush, the first person to completely shatter my heart into tiny splinters, and later on, my friend again. Until about six months ago, when we simply began to drift apart. Basically, we no longer have anything in common, he keeps trying to make me be someone I'm not, and last Monday it culminated in a screaming row (though all the screaming was on my part) and we've not spoken since.

In a way, I'm glad it's over, because it's been very stressful lately with all the arguments. Doesn't mean I didn't go through an extremely rough time emotionally, though thankfully as I was expecting it, I've gotten over it fairly quickly.

But, this is getting me away from my point, which is to say a huge thank you to everyone who left such positive, uplifting reviews for the last chapter. And also – according to my stats page, I'm on the favourite author list of 200 people! You guys are amazing, and you all really, really helped. Thanks so much, to all of you.

And so, without further preamble, onto the chapter. Enjoy.

~*~

If we could read the secret history of our enemies, we should find in each man's life sorrow and suffering enough to disarm all hostility.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

~*~

He was watching her. Not conspicuously, of course, because she'd be sure to notice if he stared directly at her throughout the meal. Carefully, by staring at a random point in the room while paying attention to her image on his peripheral vision, occasionally giving innocent glances in her direction.

Granger hadn't told anyone yet, mused Draco, but he wasn't certain how long that would remain true. After all, she was unlikely to blurt it out in the middle of a crowded dining room. But after dinner, talking to her annoying friends… she was almost certain to tell them what she'd seen. What he'd said. What he'd done.

Frowning, he took another spoonful of his soup – leek and potato, as far as he could tell – and once more cursed the entire range of sensations that these weak, pathetic, confused human minds termed 'emotions'. Especially this one called conscience. As a Fallen, he'd never have experienced any of these things after fighting with someone. It had been right to hurt people. That was what Fallens did. They had a deep, innate instinct to cause pain, and they followed it. It was simple.

But as a human, every single action produced some kind of feeling, and those feelings got mangled and mashed together until he wondered how humans could think straight without going completely insane. He couldn't even eat soup without feeling something about it, for goodness' sake!

He'd pretty much given up trying to sort out the confusing, entangled threads of feeling connected with Granger's little discovery earlier. He'd reacted cruelly because it was the only way he knew how to react, the only way he'd ever reacted when the situation involved Mudbloods. But it seemed to spark off these huge, complex masses of feeling when he did that, which gave him a headache and an incredible sensation of wrongness that made him shift uncomfortably in his seat. As though he'd swallowed a lead ball with spikes on, and it was entangling itself in his intestines.

Draco glanced up from his soup, only to catch Hermione staring thoughtfully at him, a frown on her face. He glared back out of habit: she frowned and turned to Weasley.

Things continued in much the same way for the next quarter of an hour. He continued to throw cautious glances in her direction, making sure that she didn't say anything about what she'd seen earlier to anyone, while wondering what to do. Obviously, he had to somehow procure a promise that she would keep it a secret – but for that he would need to either blackmail, threaten, or bargain with her. But he knew no intriguing secrets of hers, she would know that most of his threats would be impossible to carry out here, and what did he have to bargain with?

Occasionally she would look in his direction with a glare, or a puzzled expression, or unashamed curiosity, and then turn back to a conversation. Absentmindedly, she would rub her wrist as she talked. The wrist Draco had twisted behind her back in his fiery, thoughtless state. He frowned at that, feeling the painful sensation take another twist, and looked away.

He ate another mouthful of soup, but before he could take a second he found his thoughts wandering back to earlier events, his spoon swirling uselessly through the soup. It was impossible: how could he ever understand these strange feelings that never made any sense? He hated them and resented them, wishing he could just go back to the simplicity of a Fallen mind, but this damned human mind had too strong a survival instinct.

Sighing, Draco realised the heavy weight in his stomach had made him lose his appetite. He left the spoon in the bowl, and quickly exited the room without looking back.

~*~

'Why the long face? A guy as handsome as you are doesn't have anything to mope about, sweetie.'

Draco shifted slightly from where he was lying on the bed to look over at the mirror through one eye, frowning. 'What?'

'You look like a kid whose toy broomstick just broke,' the mirror informed him. 'More conscience troubles?'

Draco turned onto his side, his eyes narrowing. It felt extremely strange, having this mirror instantly guess what was wrong with him. Almost as if something incredibly private had been scrutinised by some impassive, external thing… 'No.' Draco denied vehemently. 'I'm fine. Just trying to think of a way to stop Granger telling her little friends what she saw, that's all.'

'Are you sure?' the mirror asked, not quite believing him. 'Because people who're just figuring out problems don't usually…'

'Look, I just don't want to talk about it, okay?' Draco snapped, sitting up and glaring darkly at the mirror. 'Forget it. If you want to be helpful, figure out a way for me to stop that Mudblood telling anyone.'

The mirror paused, a long and significant silence, before finally saying, 'Alright. Forget I said anything, okay? Right, so, how do you stop that dear Hermione telling anyone? It's a bit of a tricky one, isn't it, sweetheart…'

'I had realised,' he sneered. 'Basically there's three ways: threats, blackmail or bargains. I can't use any of those. She knows there aren't any threats I could carry out, I've no information on her to use as blackmail, and I have nothing she wants to bargain for.'

'So, a bit of a tricky one,' the mirror stated again. 'Definitely not a simple dilemma.'

'I had figured that out, thank you.' Draco replied testily, running a hand messily through his hair as he tried to think. He leant back against the headboard. 'Perhaps… If I could just get something… something she cared about. I could threaten to destroy it, or bargain to return it if she promised not to tell anyone. But what does she care about?'

He frowned, and closed his eyes to think harder. The mirror kept a quiet, respectful silence. A minute or so later, Draco's eyes snapped open. 'Why didn't I think of that sooner?' he berated himself.

'Oooh, what's your plan?' asked the mirror, intrigued.

'Something Granger cares about, that's a good enough incentive to stop her spilling my secret to those brainless idiots she calls friends,' he said with a grin, an evil shine coming into his eyes. 'Something like, say, her pet cat?'

'She has a pet cat?' the mirror asked, then it became doubtful. 'You aren't going to hurt it, are you, because…'

'Only if she refuses to promise,' Draco replied as if the topic hardly mattered. 'Now, how best to do this… yes… I'll just be a minute.'

With this he slid off the bed and left the room swiftly to return a few minutes later with a hissing, spitting, struggling ball of fur in his arms. Dropping Crookshanks on the floor, he slammed the door behind him and sank onto the bed, watching the angry cat nervously and rubbing his arm. 'Damn thing nearly took my eye out.'

'Oh, the poor thing!' replied the mirror. 'It doesn't look very happy…'

'That cat's a poor thing?' Draco asked incredulously. 'What about me? I'm bleeding from that damned animal's scratches!'

'Awww, who's a poor little kitty then?' the mirror cooed, and Draco rolled his eyes. 'Did the big mean nasty Draco scare you? I know, he's a scary one…'

Crookshanks meowed angrily, opening his jaws wide to reveal sharp incisors. Draco shifted imperceptibly away from the cat.

The mirror cooed over Crookshanks a little while longer, while the cat wandered round the room, trying to escape with no avail. Eventually, he crawled under Draco's desk and sat there, mewling pitifully.

'So, what are you going to do to the poor little kitty, now that you've catnapped him?' the mirror asked with an accusatory tone to its voice.

'As little as possible, ideally.' Draco replied with a sharp sidelong glare at the cat. 'I'll wait for Granger to come along, then I'll say that her cat ran into my room and won't come out, and make her remove the damned thing. When she comes in, I force her to promise not to tell anyone… I should threaten the cat as well, to make sure she keeps it…'

'Poor little kitty,' the mirror crooned.

'And you, mirror, can shut up about the cat.' Draco added. 'It is not a poor little kitty at all. It is a demon from Hell. Have you seen how much that bloody animal scratched me?'

The mirror sniffed. 'Well, you were kidnapping him at the time,' it pointed out. 'And don't you call me 'mirror' either, I do have a name you know. How would you like it if I called you 'human' all the time?'

'Technically I'm not human, remember, I'm half-Fallen…'

'Human, half-Fallen, whatever. The same principle applies.' The mirror sounded hurt.

'Fine then. Tell me your name and I'll call you by it.' Draco said in exasperation.

The mirror sniffed. 'My name's Rita.'

'Great. Fine. Hello, Rita.' Draco replied, and then the sound of footsteps on the stairs ended all further conversation, as he moved swiftly to the door and crouched, peering through the keyhole.

Coming up the stairs, as he'd hoped, were the four Gryffindors. The two Weasleys on either side of Potter, chattering away, and yes, there – Granger, walking to their left, seemingly distracted. Draco's mouth curved into a cruel smirk, and behind him, Crookshanks mewed piteously.

Draco swung open the door, moulding his face into the shapes of anger. 'Granger!' he shouted. 'Your filthy cat's got into my room!''

She looked up, blinked. 'He isn't filthy.' she pointed out coolly. 'And if he's in there, get him out.'

He leaned against the doorframe, scowling. 'Yes, funny thing that, but whenever I go near the bloody thing it attacks me. Now will you come and get the damned animal out of here before it defiles my room?'

'Alright, alright,' she said in exasperation. 'You three go on, I'll just be a moment.'

Hermione scowled at Draco, before detaching herself from the group of Gryffindors and entering his room, heading straight for the desk under which Crookshanks was cowering. As the cat ran straight into Hermione's arms, mewling loudly, Draco closed the door with a soft click, standing across the doorway, blocking Hermione's exit.

She scooped Crookshanks up and stood, hugging the cat to her, calming him down with soft words. It really was an extremely ugly cat, Draco mused. Well, he'd heard it said that the pet reflected the owner…

Hermione frowned when she noticed that Draco was blocking the doorway. 'Alright, I've got my cat, now let me out,' she said firmly.

'Why should I?' he asked, a simple smile flickering onto his face.

She wasn't imperceptive. 'What do you want, Malfoy?'

'That should be simple enough for even a Mudblood like you to figure out, Granger…'

From the wall, Rita muttered quietly, 'Really, Draco, your language…'

'Shut up Rita,' he said. 'Simply put, Granger, I want your promise that you will tell no one about what you saw earlier. That event shall never leave this room. Alright?'

'How will you stop me?' she challenged. 'I could tell anyone I want, and if you laid so much as a finger on me you'd get found out…'

'True.' Draco smirked. 'If I laid a finger on you…. But I don't have to hurt you physically, do I? For example…' he savoured the moment, eyes glittering, 'you're very attached to that cat, aren't you?'

She stiffened, eyes narrowing, clutching Crookshanks closer to her. 'What do you mean, Malfoy?'

'Well, just imagine how easy it would be for something bad to happen to Crookshanks.' His face was the picture of innocence, his voice silk. 'A fall down the stairs, an injury that gets infected, a fight with another cat, a collision with one of those vulgar Muggle cars…'

'You wouldn't dare,' she hissed.

He smirked. 'Are you willing to wager Crookshank's life on that?'

She didn't reply, looking away and burying her cheek in Crookshanks' fur.

'Of course, there is the alternative course of action…' He leant casually against the door, sensing an imminent victory. 'Give me your promise not to breathe a word to anyone of what you saw, and I'll let you and your precious cat go free. Under the condition, of course, that if you tell anyone the revenge will fall on Crookshanks' ugly head…'

She bit her lip. Finally, with her dark eyes shining and her voice bitter, she lifted her head and spoke. 'Fine. I promise never to tell anyone what I saw earlier today. Now let us go!'

Draco smirked and stood aside, knowing that he had what he wanted. 'Certainly. A pleasure doing business with you.'

Hermione hadn't taken more than two steps towards the door when, unexpectedly, Rita spoke up, her voice polite and brittle. 'Wait a minute, Hermione. I think there's something Draco would like to say to you…'

They both frowned. 'What on earth are you talking about?' asked Draco in annoyance.

'You know what I mean, Draco.' Rita replied coolly. 'The troubles you have with that little thing called a conscience, dearie? I think an apology is in order here.'

Draco felt as though Rita had just hit him, hard, in the stomach. An apology? Mentioning the whole complex, difficult conscience situation in front of Mudblood Granger, of all people? For a moment he considered walking up to the mirror and smashing it into pieces, before he got a calm, logical control over himself.

Hermione looked perplexed. 'Malfoy? Conscience? He's never had one before, why should one trouble him now?'

'I'm under new management,' Draco quipped with a dark glare to the mirror, who merely laughed. Rita could understand the joke – after all, he had explained Fallens and half-Fallens to her at great length.

Then came the thick tension caused by people evaluating the situation and working out what to do next. Draco looked between the mirror and Hermione, unsure of what to do next. Should he apologise? If it helped with that horrible spiked weight in his stomach, it would be worth it… And what did he have to lose if it didn't?

He decided to risk it. Turning to Hermione, he said formally, as he'd been taught, 'I apologise to you for injuring your arm earlier. It was wrong of me.'

The tension thickened. Draco frowned a little at the strange, assessing look on Granger's face. It made him feel uneasy, somehow, and nervous.

Then her expression changed, a decided, firm expression now, and she said, 'Alright, I accept your apology.'

'Good.' He realised that didn't know what he was supposed to say next. 'Well, take your cat and go, then…'

'Are you sure you're quite finished with what you want to say to Hermione, darling?' Rita cut in again, a rather insistent tone in her voice. 'I think there might be something a little more to say to her, something along the lines of an explanation, perhaps. Savvy?'

Hermione raised an eyebrow. 'I would certainly like an explanation…'

'Oh no.' Draco shook his head. He didn't want this; didn't want Mudblood Granger knowing such things about him, about what he was, about these strange, incomprehensible thing that were his feelings. One thing he had understood was that feeling were private, and his instinct was to guard them. 'I'm not being pushed around by… by a mirror, of all things.'

'Really?' asked Rita pleasantly. 'However gorgeous you may be, sweetheart, I think you owe Hermione an explanation. And if you don't tell her, I will.'

A rather cold feeling came over Draco then, like swallowing a hard lump of ice and feeling it shiver down his spine. He stared at the mirror, almost disbelieving what it had just said – a strange thing, considering he'd heard it clearly – but somehow, he couldn't make himself accept what Rita had said. Tell Granger? Tell her about… about everything, about what he was and… and the emotions. That's what he didn't want to tell her, most of all. Because that was private.

'You wouldn't,' he said slowly, shaking his head. 'You wouldn't dare…'

'Sweetie, I know you don't want anyone to know,' Rita began sympathetically, 'but really, its for your own good. You ought to have someone who actually knows what emotions feel like to help you. And Hermione's a nice girl.'

Draco gaped in horror at the mirror, trying to protest, but the cold emotion which had swept over him was strangely weakening. Besides, he knew that he couldn't stop Rita. He couldn't attack her physically, or anything to force her silence, only protest and plead. And what good would those do?

Numbly, he made his way to the bed and sat upon it, drawing his knees to his chest and resting his chin on them, staring at nothing. Strangely, he felt nothing. He was drawn away form the world around him, wrapped in a cocoon made from nothing, and he was glad of it, because he knew that Rita's… betrayal, would hurt when he felt it.

Hermione looked worriedly between him and Rita. Coming to a conclusion, she put Crookshanks back on the floor and crossed to the mirror's side. Silently, unable to do anything, Draco listened to their conversation.

'Alright,' began Rita, 'here's the story. Do you know all the stories about angels? The Fall and things like that?'

'I know the Fall, yes… though I'm rather worried as to what it has to do with Malfoy. Besides, isn't it a myth?'

'It's partly true. Basically, before humans took over this earth, angels were the main species. Just like humans, only with pretty feathery wings. Well, alright, not just like humans… See, physically they were similar, but their minds were… well, alien.'

Hermione cast a nervous glance towards Draco. 'Alien…. How?'

'Well the most important thing as I see it is that the angels didn't feel emotion. There's some other things, like perceiving colours and smells and stuff differently, but that's really not important. Now, there were two kinds of these angels, some Good and some Evil.'

'How were they good and evil without emotions?' asked Hermione.

'Instinct. The Good ones had instincts that made them do good things – healing, helping, so on, while the Evil ones had instincts that made them hurt and kill. They also had powers that echoed this - you know, Good ones had healing powers, Evil were more like Dark Arts. You get it so far?'

A nod.

'Okay. The Good and the Evil fought, and the Good won. And then they threw the Evil ones from Earth to some other place.'

'Hell?' Hermione asked.

'You'd call it Hell, though no one really knows what or where it is,' the mirror replied. 'Just personal opinion, but I doubt there's any fire and brimstone there. The Good angels had an instinct to do good things, didn't they, so I don't think they'd hurt the Evil ones more than they had to… but look at me, going off track! Anyway, the Good ones left the earth then too, for their own place – Heaven? Anyway, they aren't important now. What is important is that some of the Evil ones were left behind on earth.'

Hermione shot another sharp glance towards Draco, who turned his head on one side to avoid it, and wondered how long this comfortable numbness would last.

'And… and where does Malfoy come into this?'

'I'm getting there, dearie. See, these Evil Angels were given a new name by the humans – Fallens. And these Fallens ended up interbreeding with the humans, and having kids.'

'What? As in, half-Fallen and half-human?' she asked curiously.

'Aye, exactly. They were called half-Fallens, and they're rather complicated. For one, they can shape shift between the two physical forms. For another… See, since Fallen and human minds are so alien, they end up with two personalities. One Fallen, emotionless, instinct based, evil. One human, with all the emotions, feelings, and conscience of any normal person. The Fallen side is usually dominant…'

There was a significant silence, and then Hermione said, very softly, very quietly, 'Oh.'

Draco could feel the way she was looking at him without seeing it – surprise and sympathy – and he hated it. He didn't want her to know this. He didn't want her to be able to pry into his life. He didn't want her to know his weaknesses. Slowly, the strange dam that surrounded him began to crack.

'Yes,' Rita said simply. 'Draco is one of these - from what he's said, the Malfoys have always carried the genes. His father is one, his grandfather was one, and so on back to the time of the very first humans. He's had a Fallen mind all his life. Until recently, when the two minds… kinda flipped over, from his descriptions – and he's human now.'

'Oh.' Hermione said again, just as quietly, and then, 'So he's… he's never felt emotions before?'

Draco tensed, hating what was happening, hating Mudblood Granger for caring about it – he didn't want anyone in this! – but he sat there, with his shield breaking into pieces, knowing that realistically, he was powerless here.

'No. Never,' Rita replied simply. 'When it happened, he went to Dumbledore – he couldn't stay at home, obviously, his father would find out and he would not be pleased. So he flew to Dumbledore's office at Hogwarts, and Dumbledore brought him here. The rest you know.'

There was silence, a thick, uncertain hush that hung in the air like fog. Finally, Hermione spoke.

'Thank you,' she said softly to the mirror, then crossed the room tentatively, stopping a few paces from Draco. Draco kept his head turned away from her, not wanting to see her face.

'Malfoy…' she began doubtfully, 'I realise I'm not the best person for this, and I don't know how much I can do, but if you ever need someone to help…'

And then the dam or shield or cocoon snapped, the numbness vanishing in an instant, ice replaced by fire. It burned through him, this new feeling, hot and fiery and raging.

His head snapped round, causing Hermione to take a quick step backwards. 'I don't want your help!' he hissed. 'I never will want help from a… from a stupid Mudblood!'

She looked hurt, as though he'd slapped her in the face. 'I see,' she whispered, then caught up Crookshanks from where he'd been patiently waiting on the floor, swung around and left quickly, closing the door behind her.

For a long time, he sat clutching his pillow, eyes still on the closed door, letting the fire inside him dwindle away until he was calm again. Then and only then did he turn his face to Rita where she hung on the wall, and say in a soft, low tone, 'I hate you.'

'I know,' said Rita. 'I know.'

~*~

A/N: Rita was named for the character in 'Educating Rita', which is a brilliant play, incidentally. And I think that's all I can say, other than my usual plea. Allow me to get down on one knee… Ahem. We've had a beautiful relationship, you know, as author and reader, so I was wondering… will you be my Valent- Hang on a minute! OK, confess – who swapped my scripts around? Honestly, those betas, completely irresponsible… Now, what was I meaning to say? Ah yes – review. Please?