A/N: I'm finally on chapter six and the boys are finally going to meet! I hope everyone enjoys it. Of course I'd like to thank WinterStorm, Swan Songs, and Airborn-Love for the reviews because they're great. Thanks to everyone that reads. There's some violence in this one (this story will have mature scenes in it at some point just so everyone knows). I don't own Harry Potter (obviously).
Floor to ceiling bookcases were against every wall of Luna's office. Draco mused silently that they were probably just for decoration. There was no way Lovegood had read all of them; he wasn't even convinced that she could read. Then again she had been a Ravenclaw…
A tall potted plant was in the corner of the room behind the desk. The leaves were about the size of his fist, heart shaped and a distinct mauve color. Stormclover. It was extremely rare and extremely expensive but its healing properties made it invaluable. How the hell did Luna Lovegood get one?
Draco noticed that there were no windows or lamps but a bright light seemed to emanate from the ceiling itself. He was so caught up in his inspection of the room that he failed to hear the door creak quietly open behind him.
"Hey, Luna told me to come up here and talk to you. She thinks we have similar illnesses or something…" The voice trailed off.
Draco instantly froze. He knew that voice. That voice had tormented him for seven years and still managed to haunt his dreams more frequently than he cared to admit. That was the voice of his arch nemesis and the voice of the boy that had saved his life from the fiendfyre four years ago.
Harry sodding Potter.
Draco pulled his glamour back around him rapidly, hoping with every fiber of his being that Potter had not seen him. In the high backed chair, (which, much to his disturbance, still resembled a unicorn), only the top of his head could be seen.
He stood slowly. The glamour masked his sore skin but not the pain that he felt every time he moved. He turned towards Potter after securely placing his indifferent Malfoy mask over his face.
"They let any type of vermin in here these days I see." he said in the monotone voice that he had apparently recently adopted. Potter stared back at him blankly, all signs of possible politeness fleeing once he recognized Draco.
"Obviously, they let you in after all."
"My mother brought me here Potter. I don't suppose you've ever experienced anything like that, seeing as yours is dead."
Draco could see Potter's fists clench at his sides, so tightly that his knuckles began to turn white. A familiar sense of glee filled him as he watched Potter begin to lose control.
Mocking the Weasel and his loser family was one thing; it amused Draco to an extent. But getting under Potter's skin… that was something completely different. It was what Draco lived for.
He was furious when he took in the Boy Wonder's appearance. The same obnoxious obsidian locks sat atop the pale, smooth skinned nuisance. His eyes were deep viridian pools that swirled with anger and hatred as he glared back at Draco. He looked exactly as he always had and it aggravated Draco that his own pale beauty was gone while Potter was completely unharmed.
Power seemed to ooze out of him, and the angrier he became the more dangerous he appeared. For a split second Draco finally understood how this average, un-noteworthy boy had defeated the Dark Lord. But he was not afraid.
For the first time since he married Astoria he felt alive. His own magic was gathering and coiling in response to Potter's.
"Don't ever talk about my parents!" The Golden Boy's voice was thunderous and was laced with rage. Draco briefly wondered if the Weasel and the Mudblood had ever heard their hero like this.
Draco merely sneered, which thanks to his glamour, turned out just as scathing as it had in sixth year.
"I don't take orders Potter, especially from the likes of you. I was reading the Prophet the other day and there was a horrifying picture of the Weaselette. Do you know who I heard she looks like?" Draco inquired innocently.
Potter remained fuming and silent, glaring daggers at Draco, an unvoiced warning hanging in the air. Draco studiously ignored it and barreled on.
"What's it like to fuck someone that so closely resembles your own mother? I suppose you did that on purpose though. You know, married the girl because she looked like that dead dunderhead-"
Now the tightly clenched fist seemed itching to hurt something, namely Draco. Potter's face had turned a bright puce color that surely could only indicate bad things. And yet Draco would not stop, really could not stop, himself from continuing and seeing just how far he could push the man that had always seemed to make him forget how he was supposed to behave.
"-that you never even got a chance to get to know. Poor tragic Harry bloody Potter-"
Whatever he was going to say next was lost as Potter's fist connected with his nose. He reacted immediately and lunged forward, swinging his elbow into what felt a lot like the rib of the Boy Who Lived. Potter stumbled back, still as ungraceful on his feet as always, and swung blindly, narrowly hitting Draco in the jaw.
Draco smirked as he took in the height difference between them. Potter was still shorter than him, the top of his head just coming up to Draco's ears. He didn't know why but he felt so small sense of accomplishment knowing that he would most definitely always be the taller of the two.
Potter, having finally gained some sort of balance, began stalking forward. Without thinking Draco dodged under his arm and stood behind him. Before Potter could turn around Draco kicked out the back of his knee, forcing him down to a kneeling position. Taking advantage of this Draco kicked at his back until he fell forward. He laid unmoving face down on the carpet that Draco now noticed had the pattern of dragonflies darting about on it.
He moved closer slowly, afraid that perhaps Potter was merely faking.
A few small specks of blood littered that carpet around Potter's open mouth. A sick sensation began to grow in Draco's stomach as he looked down at his school rival.
His hair, which had only minutes ago seemed unruly and dark, was a matted mass of washed out black straw. His skin was ashen and flaky. His lips were chapped and cracked.
He was just a darker image of Draco.
He must have been wearing a glamour too… Lovegood had said that she was sending up the other person with the same symptoms. Sweet Salazar, why am I doomed this way?
Draco's self-pity session was interrupted as he heard pained groans coming from the body on the floor. He stepped back a bit as Potter opened his eyes. His eyes were a pale tea green fire that made the fine blond hairs stand up on the back of Draco's neck. He was used to emerald rage, not this shallow imitation.
Potter's eyes widened as he inspected Draco. Immediately feeling self conscious Draco gazed down at his clothes to see if perhaps he had ripped them in the fight or something. Maybe a little disheveled but nothing too bad. He lifted his hand to readjust his tie and froze as he noticed gray peeling skin.
Shite! I let my glamour fall. Damn it! Damn Potter and his stupid face and his stupid life!
"Don't stare Potter, it's rude. I know your mother was not around to teach you that but really it is common sense." Draco snarled as he turned to the door and wordlessly reapplied his glamour. He left the office quickly and walked through the building at a brisk pace. Once he made it outside the entrance he apparated directly to his room at Malfoy Manor.
He let the glamour fall and looked at his reflection in the mirror once more. His nose was crooked and dried blood speckled his face. He appeared just like he had earlier but now more worn down and beaten. But his eyes had a spark in their pale depths. They reflected life.