(no subject)
Jun. 15th, 2007 10:50 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dripping_cherryTitle: Black Mirror (Schwarzer Spiegel)
Author: Maxine
Translated from the German by Dripping_Cherry
You can find the original here: http://www.fanfiktion.de/s/40aa633b000009d3067007d0
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: R/NC-17
Timeline: 6 years post-Hogwarts
Warning: Rape, Non/Con, slash, lemon, violence, dark, angst. If you can’t deal with it, you’d best not read it.
Betas: Maxine thanks!
Summary: “When will you be able to look into the mirror again, and not feel guilt?” – “Only when you can look into my eyes without fear.”
It won't rain all the time.
The sky won't fall forever.
And though the night seems long,
Your tears won't fall forever.
(Jane Siberry - It Can't Rain All The Time)
**
You believe that you can forgive me for violating you.
I tell you, you won’t be able to forgive me.
Not when you know that I enjoyed every second of your torment.
**
“Mr. Malfoy?”
The soft sound of a familiar voice grazed his ear, but didn’t seem to register. Only with difficulty did he tear his gaze away from the window with the azure sky behind it and focus on the old, white-haired man that was sitting across from him.
Albus Dumbledore had laced his fingers together on the desk and was looking fixedly at him. His penetrating eyes were as light blue as the sky outside. “You cannot blame yourself for what happened. There was nothing you could have done differently. Unless you wanted to die.”
Draco went tense at those words. He rested his chin on his hand, thinking of how the abyss beneath the North Tower had tempted him. “Maybe I should have.” It sounded so frighteningly resigned. Even to his own ears.
“Don’t speak nonsense,” Dumbledore rounded on him sharply. He leaned forward and locked Draco with his gaze. “That would be of no use to anyone. How are we supposed to win this war if you are dead?”
Normally, the knowledge that he was important to the mission would have filled him with pride. But nothing was normal anymore. He decided to ignore the rhetorical question. “Voldemort is still weakened from the last battle,” he began tiredly. “Wouldn’t now be a good chance to attack him again?”
Dumbledore shook his head slowly without taking his eyes off Draco. “Voldemort may be weakened. But his Death Eaters are still much too strong. You’ve seen it for yourself.”
Draco closed his eyes in agony. There they were again. The images that he’d rather forget. The voracity in Dolohov’s eyes. Rookwoods fleshy hands on Harry’s naked skin. And, of course, every detail of his own atrocity. He bit his lip hard. The pain brought him back to reality. “How many of them have escaped?”
The Headmaster sighed softly. “Most of them, unfortunately.” Tonks and her team had the element of surprise on their side, but they were outnumbered. Two Death Eaters fell, five were taken prisoner. Dolohov and Rookwood weren’t among them,” he added, as if he’d guessed Draco’s thoughts.
Draco’s eyes fell. “So what are your next planes. When will my next assignment be?”
The old wizard hesitated for a moment. “There will not be a next assignment for you as a spy,” he explained softly.
“But I…” Draco started at him. A thousand questions shot through his head. “Why not?” The anxiety rose inside him. His fingers clasped tightly around the sides of his chair.
“Draco…” Dumbledore sounded patient, like a father speaking to his uncooperative child. “You’ve raised suspicion. They saw how you brought Harry to safety in the chapel when the attack began. They noticed your horror. It would surely be the death of you, if I were to send you back into that snake pit. Voldemort’s followers know no mercy where traitors are concerned, as you yourself are aware.”
Draco shuddered inwardly. “What will happen to me? Am I supposed to stay here at Hogwarts?”
“No,” Dumbledore answered in a resolute voice. “I know of an excellent hiding place for you. Somewhere, where no one will look for you. You will be safe there.”
The seconds stretched to eternity. Draco realized that his features had frozen to ice. Everything inside him tightened. “I won’t bear it,” he said quietly, his voice quivering slightly. He noticed the despair in it and hoped that Dumbledore hadn’t picked up on it. “I can’t simply hide away for months, waiting idly until something happens. I’ll crack, being there alone.”
“It won’t be for long.” Dumbledore’s gaze was both soft and severe at the same time. “We’ll see this through,” he whispered insistently. “The time to defeat him is near. The prophecy will fulfill itself. In our favor.”
Draco swallowed dryly. Somehow, Dumbledore’s words didn’t arouse any emotions inside him, least of all relief. “Hopefully you’re not expecting too much of Harry,” was all he said. Slowly, he pushed the chair back and stood. The old wooden floor creaked beneath his feet.
“Everything will get better. The wounds will heal.” Again that penetrating gaze which nothing seemed to escape and which, at the same time, betrayed nothing. “You must persevere, Draco. Even if you only do it for Lucus.”
Draco tried to suppress the painful feeling of loss that always shot through him at the mention of his father’s name. “When do I leave?” he asked dully.
“Within the hour,” was the answer, which didn’t allow a protest.
*****
This time she didn’t need the Marauder’s Map to locate Harry. He was lying where he’d been lying for two days already—on his stomach, on the bank of the lake, in the shadows of the old weeping willow whose branches swayed gently in the wind. He only lifted his head for a moment as he saw her approaching. His features seemed grim, his green eyes as deep as the lake’s murky water.
She slowly let herself sink to the grass and absently plucked one of the numerous daisies. “When will you finally start joining us for meals again?” she asked quietly without looking at him. He worried her by not eating anything. Everything about his behavior worried her.
Harry snorted. “I’ll grab something from the kitchen later. I can’t stand their sympathetic looks during mealtime. I think what they’d most like is to ask me is if I’m finally able to sit again, without too much discomfort.” He turned over onto his back and stared melancholically at the cloudless sky.
It was the first time since his breakdown in the Prefects’ bathroom that he mentioned the rape.
“No one would ask you anything like that,” she responded calmly. “You know that very well. And you don’t need to be afraid of encountering Malfoy either. He already left a few days ago.”
“And how do you know I’m afraid of encountering him?” Harry’s voice sounded tense.
“I don’t know,” she retorted quickly. “I only know that I’d be afraid of that if I were in your shoes.”
For a minute they were both silent. Ginny nervously plucked the daisy to pieces in between her fingers. Small waves were breaking quietly on the bank. “We will both leave tomorrow, too,” she finally broke the silence. “The new school year begins the day after tomorrow, so the Aurors have to be gone by then.”
“Oh. Good.” Harry’s voice had a hint of bitterness in it. “All this sitting around business is wracking my nerves. I’ll be glad when I finally have something to do again.”
Ginny breathed in and out deeply. The following words were difficult. “I’m returning to the Auror academy alone. Dumbledore said that you aren’t ready to lead a team again.”
She could feel that Harry froze beside her. “What?” was all he managed to say. He had lifted his head. Rage blazed in his eyes, even though he remained calm on the surface. Over the course of the years, he had learned to control his violent temper.
“Harry…” Her voice was beseeching. “Look at you. Not a second passes when you don’t think of this… matter. Do you really believe that you’d make a good team leader tomorrow? Do you really want to put Terry and me in danger?”
Harry didn’t answer. He stared into emptiness, his lips pursed tightly.
“You will survive if you work in the background of the Order for once,” she said in a firm voice. “Then, Dumbledore will surely bring you back on the team.”
“Where does he want to send me?” he asked flatly. “The Order’s headquarters?”
Ginny hesitated. She feared his reaction. “Close,” she answered slowly. “To the old headquarters. 12 Grimmauld Place.’
****
Harry was spent as he let himself sink into a cushion inside one of the compartments of the Hogwarts Express the next morning. He hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep the entire night. As a consequence of his argument with Dumbledore, he hadn’t had a moment of peace. He had fought tooth and nail against the old wizard’s decision, but Dumbledore had proved unyielding. He was sure that the time was not yet ripe to send Harry back to the Auror Academy. And there wasn’t enough space in the new headquarters on Callander Square for him to spend several weeks there.
He rested his forehead against the cool window pane and observed how the towers of Hogwarts disappeared behind the hilltops. Strangely, he didn’t feel any regret, only fear of what was to come.
He hadn’t entered the house of the Black family since Sirius’ death eight years ago. Dumbledore had found new headquarters for the order relatively quickly. He hadn’t wanted to burden the members with constant exposure to the memory. And Harry was to return there nevertheless.
Ginny sat across from him and occasionally cast her worried gaze, which he tried as hard as possible to ignore, on him. He didn’t want to talk to her. There was nothing left to talk about.
It was already dark when the train arrived at the King’s Cross station. Neither of them had much luggage. Nobody noticed them as they quietly crossed the station concourse. Ginny waited with Harry until the Knight Bus arrived. She embraced him in farewell. “We’ll see each other again soon, I promise. Be strong, Harry.”
He stroked her hair and kissed her on the cheek. Then he climbed onto the bus, let himself fall into his seat and waved until the petite figure disappeared into the darkness.
The drive to Grummauald Place only lasted a few minutes. Stan Shunpike’s desperate attempts to make conversation couldn’t distract him from his growing unease. And when he finally found himself alone with his small suitcase in the dark alley, and the rear lights of the Knight Bus were no longer visible, panic overwhelmed him completely.
An invisible menace that only wizards could see seamed to emanate from the old house. It cut off his breath. But he had no other choice but to go inside. After all, he couldn’t spend the night out on the street.
With trembling steps, he climbed the worn out steps towards the entrance. The black door with a silver doorknob in the form of a snake opened as if by magic as he came near. He took another deep breath in and out before entering.
An unexpected, comforting warmth that emanated from the flickering fire in the huge hearth engulfed him. There was no hint of clamminess or fustiness. Surprised, he raised his eyes and looked around curiously.
Hardly anything in the entrance hallway, which was illuminated by the soft light of numerous gas lamps, was reminiscent of the former house of the Blacks anymore. The askew, age-blackened portraits of family members, as well as the dust and the spider webs, were gone. And, as an overzealous, bowing house elf tore his coat and bag from his hand, he was sure that Kreacher hadn’t been living there for a long time already. Harry had expected that the memory of Sirius would overwhelm him, but nothing in this house was reminiscent of Sirius anymore. The entrance door closed shut with a loud crash behind him.
Although the house appeared much more inviting than during his last visit, the feeling of a threat remained. Carefully, he took a few steps. Only when he reached the old stairs with the squiggly railing did he realize what was responsible for the feeling.
Above, on the top of the stairs appeared the deathly pale face of a young, blonde man who had apparently been startled by the sound of the banging door. He was wearing a dressing gown made of fine silk. His eyes were full of discomposure and horror.
Harry automatically stumbled a few steps backward. His heart began to race. “What… what are you doing here?” he managed. His voice was little more than a helpless croak. He felt as if someone was pulling the ground from beneath his feet.
“I could ask you the same, Potter.” It was apparently supposed to sound arrogant, but the trembling in Draco Malfoy’s voice was audible.
Harry no longer knew what to think. His brain seemed not to be functioning properly at all. ‘Get outta here,’ was his only thought. But as he turned on his heels, wanting to storm towards the exit, the door through which he had entered was gone. Nothing on the naked, cold walls showed a trace of a door ever having been there.
Tbc….
Author: Maxine
Translated from the German by Dripping_Cherry
You can find the original here: http://www.fanfiktion.de/s/40aa633b000009d3067007d0
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: R/NC-17
Timeline: 6 years post-Hogwarts
Warning: Rape, Non/Con, slash, lemon, violence, dark, angst. If you can’t deal with it, you’d best not read it.
Betas: Maxine thanks!
Summary: “When will you be able to look into the mirror again, and not feel guilt?” – “Only when you can look into my eyes without fear.”
It won't rain all the time.
The sky won't fall forever.
And though the night seems long,
Your tears won't fall forever.
(Jane Siberry - It Can't Rain All The Time)
**
You believe that you can forgive me for violating you.
I tell you, you won’t be able to forgive me.
Not when you know that I enjoyed every second of your torment.
**
“Mr. Malfoy?”
The soft sound of a familiar voice grazed his ear, but didn’t seem to register. Only with difficulty did he tear his gaze away from the window with the azure sky behind it and focus on the old, white-haired man that was sitting across from him.
Albus Dumbledore had laced his fingers together on the desk and was looking fixedly at him. His penetrating eyes were as light blue as the sky outside. “You cannot blame yourself for what happened. There was nothing you could have done differently. Unless you wanted to die.”
Draco went tense at those words. He rested his chin on his hand, thinking of how the abyss beneath the North Tower had tempted him. “Maybe I should have.” It sounded so frighteningly resigned. Even to his own ears.
“Don’t speak nonsense,” Dumbledore rounded on him sharply. He leaned forward and locked Draco with his gaze. “That would be of no use to anyone. How are we supposed to win this war if you are dead?”
Normally, the knowledge that he was important to the mission would have filled him with pride. But nothing was normal anymore. He decided to ignore the rhetorical question. “Voldemort is still weakened from the last battle,” he began tiredly. “Wouldn’t now be a good chance to attack him again?”
Dumbledore shook his head slowly without taking his eyes off Draco. “Voldemort may be weakened. But his Death Eaters are still much too strong. You’ve seen it for yourself.”
Draco closed his eyes in agony. There they were again. The images that he’d rather forget. The voracity in Dolohov’s eyes. Rookwoods fleshy hands on Harry’s naked skin. And, of course, every detail of his own atrocity. He bit his lip hard. The pain brought him back to reality. “How many of them have escaped?”
The Headmaster sighed softly. “Most of them, unfortunately.” Tonks and her team had the element of surprise on their side, but they were outnumbered. Two Death Eaters fell, five were taken prisoner. Dolohov and Rookwood weren’t among them,” he added, as if he’d guessed Draco’s thoughts.
Draco’s eyes fell. “So what are your next planes. When will my next assignment be?”
The old wizard hesitated for a moment. “There will not be a next assignment for you as a spy,” he explained softly.
“But I…” Draco started at him. A thousand questions shot through his head. “Why not?” The anxiety rose inside him. His fingers clasped tightly around the sides of his chair.
“Draco…” Dumbledore sounded patient, like a father speaking to his uncooperative child. “You’ve raised suspicion. They saw how you brought Harry to safety in the chapel when the attack began. They noticed your horror. It would surely be the death of you, if I were to send you back into that snake pit. Voldemort’s followers know no mercy where traitors are concerned, as you yourself are aware.”
Draco shuddered inwardly. “What will happen to me? Am I supposed to stay here at Hogwarts?”
“No,” Dumbledore answered in a resolute voice. “I know of an excellent hiding place for you. Somewhere, where no one will look for you. You will be safe there.”
The seconds stretched to eternity. Draco realized that his features had frozen to ice. Everything inside him tightened. “I won’t bear it,” he said quietly, his voice quivering slightly. He noticed the despair in it and hoped that Dumbledore hadn’t picked up on it. “I can’t simply hide away for months, waiting idly until something happens. I’ll crack, being there alone.”
“It won’t be for long.” Dumbledore’s gaze was both soft and severe at the same time. “We’ll see this through,” he whispered insistently. “The time to defeat him is near. The prophecy will fulfill itself. In our favor.”
Draco swallowed dryly. Somehow, Dumbledore’s words didn’t arouse any emotions inside him, least of all relief. “Hopefully you’re not expecting too much of Harry,” was all he said. Slowly, he pushed the chair back and stood. The old wooden floor creaked beneath his feet.
“Everything will get better. The wounds will heal.” Again that penetrating gaze which nothing seemed to escape and which, at the same time, betrayed nothing. “You must persevere, Draco. Even if you only do it for Lucus.”
Draco tried to suppress the painful feeling of loss that always shot through him at the mention of his father’s name. “When do I leave?” he asked dully.
“Within the hour,” was the answer, which didn’t allow a protest.
*****
This time she didn’t need the Marauder’s Map to locate Harry. He was lying where he’d been lying for two days already—on his stomach, on the bank of the lake, in the shadows of the old weeping willow whose branches swayed gently in the wind. He only lifted his head for a moment as he saw her approaching. His features seemed grim, his green eyes as deep as the lake’s murky water.
She slowly let herself sink to the grass and absently plucked one of the numerous daisies. “When will you finally start joining us for meals again?” she asked quietly without looking at him. He worried her by not eating anything. Everything about his behavior worried her.
Harry snorted. “I’ll grab something from the kitchen later. I can’t stand their sympathetic looks during mealtime. I think what they’d most like is to ask me is if I’m finally able to sit again, without too much discomfort.” He turned over onto his back and stared melancholically at the cloudless sky.
It was the first time since his breakdown in the Prefects’ bathroom that he mentioned the rape.
“No one would ask you anything like that,” she responded calmly. “You know that very well. And you don’t need to be afraid of encountering Malfoy either. He already left a few days ago.”
“And how do you know I’m afraid of encountering him?” Harry’s voice sounded tense.
“I don’t know,” she retorted quickly. “I only know that I’d be afraid of that if I were in your shoes.”
For a minute they were both silent. Ginny nervously plucked the daisy to pieces in between her fingers. Small waves were breaking quietly on the bank. “We will both leave tomorrow, too,” she finally broke the silence. “The new school year begins the day after tomorrow, so the Aurors have to be gone by then.”
“Oh. Good.” Harry’s voice had a hint of bitterness in it. “All this sitting around business is wracking my nerves. I’ll be glad when I finally have something to do again.”
Ginny breathed in and out deeply. The following words were difficult. “I’m returning to the Auror academy alone. Dumbledore said that you aren’t ready to lead a team again.”
She could feel that Harry froze beside her. “What?” was all he managed to say. He had lifted his head. Rage blazed in his eyes, even though he remained calm on the surface. Over the course of the years, he had learned to control his violent temper.
“Harry…” Her voice was beseeching. “Look at you. Not a second passes when you don’t think of this… matter. Do you really believe that you’d make a good team leader tomorrow? Do you really want to put Terry and me in danger?”
Harry didn’t answer. He stared into emptiness, his lips pursed tightly.
“You will survive if you work in the background of the Order for once,” she said in a firm voice. “Then, Dumbledore will surely bring you back on the team.”
“Where does he want to send me?” he asked flatly. “The Order’s headquarters?”
Ginny hesitated. She feared his reaction. “Close,” she answered slowly. “To the old headquarters. 12 Grimmauld Place.’
****
Harry was spent as he let himself sink into a cushion inside one of the compartments of the Hogwarts Express the next morning. He hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep the entire night. As a consequence of his argument with Dumbledore, he hadn’t had a moment of peace. He had fought tooth and nail against the old wizard’s decision, but Dumbledore had proved unyielding. He was sure that the time was not yet ripe to send Harry back to the Auror Academy. And there wasn’t enough space in the new headquarters on Callander Square for him to spend several weeks there.
He rested his forehead against the cool window pane and observed how the towers of Hogwarts disappeared behind the hilltops. Strangely, he didn’t feel any regret, only fear of what was to come.
He hadn’t entered the house of the Black family since Sirius’ death eight years ago. Dumbledore had found new headquarters for the order relatively quickly. He hadn’t wanted to burden the members with constant exposure to the memory. And Harry was to return there nevertheless.
Ginny sat across from him and occasionally cast her worried gaze, which he tried as hard as possible to ignore, on him. He didn’t want to talk to her. There was nothing left to talk about.
It was already dark when the train arrived at the King’s Cross station. Neither of them had much luggage. Nobody noticed them as they quietly crossed the station concourse. Ginny waited with Harry until the Knight Bus arrived. She embraced him in farewell. “We’ll see each other again soon, I promise. Be strong, Harry.”
He stroked her hair and kissed her on the cheek. Then he climbed onto the bus, let himself fall into his seat and waved until the petite figure disappeared into the darkness.
The drive to Grummauald Place only lasted a few minutes. Stan Shunpike’s desperate attempts to make conversation couldn’t distract him from his growing unease. And when he finally found himself alone with his small suitcase in the dark alley, and the rear lights of the Knight Bus were no longer visible, panic overwhelmed him completely.
An invisible menace that only wizards could see seamed to emanate from the old house. It cut off his breath. But he had no other choice but to go inside. After all, he couldn’t spend the night out on the street.
With trembling steps, he climbed the worn out steps towards the entrance. The black door with a silver doorknob in the form of a snake opened as if by magic as he came near. He took another deep breath in and out before entering.
An unexpected, comforting warmth that emanated from the flickering fire in the huge hearth engulfed him. There was no hint of clamminess or fustiness. Surprised, he raised his eyes and looked around curiously.
Hardly anything in the entrance hallway, which was illuminated by the soft light of numerous gas lamps, was reminiscent of the former house of the Blacks anymore. The askew, age-blackened portraits of family members, as well as the dust and the spider webs, were gone. And, as an overzealous, bowing house elf tore his coat and bag from his hand, he was sure that Kreacher hadn’t been living there for a long time already. Harry had expected that the memory of Sirius would overwhelm him, but nothing in this house was reminiscent of Sirius anymore. The entrance door closed shut with a loud crash behind him.
Although the house appeared much more inviting than during his last visit, the feeling of a threat remained. Carefully, he took a few steps. Only when he reached the old stairs with the squiggly railing did he realize what was responsible for the feeling.
Above, on the top of the stairs appeared the deathly pale face of a young, blonde man who had apparently been startled by the sound of the banging door. He was wearing a dressing gown made of fine silk. His eyes were full of discomposure and horror.
Harry automatically stumbled a few steps backward. His heart began to race. “What… what are you doing here?” he managed. His voice was little more than a helpless croak. He felt as if someone was pulling the ground from beneath his feet.
“I could ask you the same, Potter.” It was apparently supposed to sound arrogant, but the trembling in Draco Malfoy’s voice was audible.
Harry no longer knew what to think. His brain seemed not to be functioning properly at all. ‘Get outta here,’ was his only thought. But as he turned on his heels, wanting to storm towards the exit, the door through which he had entered was gone. Nothing on the naked, cold walls showed a trace of a door ever having been there.
Tbc….
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2007-06-16 07:53 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-06-16 10:28 pm (UTC)Enjoy!
no subject
Date: 2007-06-17 01:43 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-06-17 01:53 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-06-17 07:34 pm (UTC)I do hope Dumbledore knows what he's doing and that Harry and Draco can deal with the otehr and what has happened.