Reflections

I looked through a window and saw a man. He had silver blonde hair, like a Veela and matching grey eyes. It is only by his trademark hair I recognized him. In his disheveled state, I doubt anyone but I would realize it was Draco Malfoy. The hollow look in his eyes had made him a shadow of the once proud man he had been.

He always had an air of arrogance; his family name was, after all prestigious, one of the most important families in the Wizarding World. He was still arrogant as he had always been even after he changed sides before the war. The only difference was the prejudice he had for Muggles and Muggleborns were reduced. He had displayed no emotion when his father had been sentenced to Azkaban. It was after her, that he had changed so drastically. It was practically a timeline, AH. After her. After Hermione Granger.

Everything had started from admiration. He had been admiring how she managed to keep her head high, even after the never-ending insults that seemed to pelt endlessly at her. She even managed to achieve the highest score Hogwarts had ever seen in over a hundred years. A feat that had even impressed his father. In class, a place where practically every student’s mind would drift off, concentrating on things that had seemed many times more important, had left only a meager handful paying attention.

She was one of them.

She absorbed information like a sponge and stored them for later use. She had barely lived for more than seven years in the Wizarding World and already managed to show more intelligence than those who lived in the Wizarding World sine birth.

Of course, it was not for brains alone he admired her; else he would have easily fallen in love with a Ravenclaw. It was for her patience, logic, warmth, understanding... the list that seemed would never end. It was simpler to say he loved everything about her, as corny as it sounded. He knew she had qualities he would never have, and once again, admired her for it. It was not as if she was a paragon of virtues, she had her share of flaws that gnawed at his patience in every opportunity they could. But so did he and he loved her anyway.

He never allowed a single hint escape to make anyone think that he was in love with her. It was always her friends he insulted, never having the heart to insult her after the third year. It was bizarre. Draco Malfoy, someone who did not know love, have never been loved had a crush on one who was constantly surrounded by love. He himself knew that nagging feeling deep inside his heart was more than a crush. He tried many ways to end that feeling that would inevitably cause his destruction. He ignored it, found excuses to hate her, dated many others.

None worked.

Fourth year – The Quidditch World Cup. It was then when he saw his father levitating a few muggles, torturing them and laughing as if it was all just a big joke, as if it didn’t matter; with his friends, the other Death Eaters. It was, to them. He had been terrified, scared, but not for himself. Never for himself, solely for her. It was then when he knew.

A few moments later, in the midst of all the chaos; he saw her run in a thick forest with nothing but her friends for protection. It made his heart lurch nervously. He followed her, with Crabbe and Goyle.

Warning her directly was out of the question. Neither was ignoring the fact that she could be a potential target for the Death Eaters. Finally, he laced his admonition with layers of insults. He pretended to leave and ordered Crabbe and Goyle to go back to their tents. He followed the Gryffindor Trio into the forest with his invisibility cloak.

Just then, Harry Potter had indeed proved himself as a magnet for trouble. He heard a man's voice and something green and silver shot out of a wand. He didn't pay any heed to the man, after all, only Hermione was his main concern. Safely under his invisibility cloak, he saw stunners narrowly missing them, along with a group of adults who worked in the ministry heading towards them.

Thunder roared, attracting his attention. Looking up, he saw the highlight of the entire event – In the air was a carbon copy of Death Eater tattoo he once saw on his father's inner forearm. An icy hand grasped his heart as he saw the horrendous mark, a feeling of dread flooding him. On that moment, he wondered whether power really was worth all the pain and sacrifices he would have to go through.

The fifth year passed easily. He simply restrained all contact with Hermione and avoided the trio as much as he could. In addition to that, everything he said was planned before hand, to ensure nothing would break his illusion of a cold heartless bastard who would love nothing more than to kill Muggles and Muggleborns. Something that the Golden Trio eagerly believed He pretended to help Umbridge and her group of brainless minions. The hunger for power had covered his features had been selfish. It had nothing to do with supporting Voldemort. He had grown up believing power was everything - a belief that had constantly lingered behind, even after his father’s imprisonment.

He knew of all the things they had tried to keep secret but he said nothing.

The Room of Requirement, the thestrals, centaurs, the department of mysteries, classes taught by Potter Potter. He knew every bit of it.

It wasn’t difficult. All one had to be was observant and have copious amounts of money. He had paid handsomely to buy a looking glass that featured Hermione, but only when she was in terrible danger. He was rather amused to find that dueling with Neville Longbottom in the Room of Requirement was considered life threatening. Most of the damage he would inflict had been, after all, to him himself.

It was the sixth year when everything changed. They were both called to meet Dumbledore, the main promoter of inter-house relationships and were assigned to patrol Hogwarts together. He pretended to be outraged when he was secretly delighted. Her face had been carefully masked, betraying no emotion.

Her friends were furious when the found out what happened and had made quite a scene in The Great Hall. His friends, on the other hand, were happy, being Slytherins, they thought it was the perfect opportunity for Draco to provoke Hermione into loosing house points from Gryffindor.

On the first patrol, she agreed to be civil, knowing that it would be easier than arguing heatedly for the next few months over small matters. They had talked about petty things, like what they thought about Arithmacy and other subjects. Even the Hogwarts menu was discussed occasionally. She found out he read Hogwarts, A History. He found out she read a few topics on Dark Arts herself. ("Knowing the curses your enemies are to perform is the only way you can defend yourself against them.")They got closer, and became friends in secret, or rather, whenever they patrol.

He had never known that both of them had so much in common. (Apart from undeniable rivalry, of course) He had hoped they would argue, hate each other, and he would then finally get over her. He didn't. They shared so much about each other that his feelings had grown deeper, more genuine. She knew his reluctance to join Voldemort and he knew her insecurities on her looks. She was his Hope.

It was one fateful day that had resulted the biggest and most sacred change of his life.

-

"Happy Valentine's Day, Hermione!" said Harry strangely, enthuastically. "Ron and I got something for you."

Hermione blinked.

"Oh, Harry..." she sighed.”You know I don't really like Valentine's Day and all..."

The sound of the clanging of glass abruptly ended their five-second conversation as Professor Dumbledore stood up. The magnificent headmaster was wearing muggle clothing - clothing that thoroughly insulted muggle fashion all over the world. He was wearing a maroon tie with bright pink hearts that blinked. He wore a purple vest and a green shirt underneath, velvet black hair tie for his beard and hair. He also wore checkered blue and brown pants, completed with a yellow and grey hat. Professor Dumbledore looked as if a rainbow had crossed by him and destroyed his clothing by coloring his clothes in almost every color possible. It could have been easily described as looking worse than Dobby in his tea cozy, whom had once seemed impossible to beat.

He beamed at his gob smacked students, who finally noticed their headmaster.

"I would like to wish you all Happy Valentine's Day!" he said, happily. "I hope you don't all end up with a goat like my brother, Aberforth did. Also, I wouldn't recommend checking my old school records... (he looked meaningfully at the Slytherin table) after the spade and the pumpkin accident, I..."

Professor McGonagall blushed.

"Albus, please..."

Professor Dumbledore blinked at the interruption and abruptly changed the subject.

"So please try not damage your ears too much from listening to singing valentines!" he said with a laugh. "Tuck in!"

Food appeared on the table, all complete with red and pink food coloring. As she had expected Ron to dig in the food with unmatched fervor (as food was one of his few passions), she was surprised when he tugged her hand and gave her a dictionary box covered with beautiful, glittery, pink and red wrapping paper. She inwardly sighed as she realized that her best friends probably didn't know she abhorred the color pink.

'Draco would...'

She was snapped back to reality by Harry tapping her shoulder.

"Aren't you going to open it?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

She did - she was surprised with box of Dobblegoose's Best Chocolates, one of the most expensive brands of chocolates there was instead of a book she had been continuously expecting. Harry and Ron had apparently remembered her obsession for chocolates despite forgetting her choice in colours. She couldn’t really blame them, though; it wasn’t as if they spent their spare time discussing their favourite colours when Voldemort’s impending threat was so close by.

She thanked them sincerely and gave them each a hug.

-

It was time for patrol. Hermione could barely contain her excitement to meet Draco. She had never felt this way for anyone before. Her heart pleaded desperately, constantly, for even a single glimpse of his face. Even the barest skin contact with him filled her with warmth, bubbling from the depth of her belly. She knew she had to tell him. It was the unevitable.

She met up with him, feeling her nervous and uneasy. She couldn’t deny her feelings for him; it was too overwhelming for it to be kept secret. Yet, she feared his reaction, his possible rejection. She could tell that she would rather be rejected than to keep what she felt for him inside. Too many things were going to happen, their futures were unknown – but at the very least, she could either live or die; knowing that she did not waste her chance on being with him just because she was afraid.

As soon as he reached her, her mouth went dry.

‘It’s now or never.’ She told herself, summoning all the courage she could find.

"I love you," she blurted out.

Draco blinked.

"Of course, you do. Who wouldn’t?" he joked cautiously; as if he could not bring himself believe what she had just said. It was reasonable; even she could hardly believe it herself.

"I meant it. I really did, Draco." She said, tears welling up in her eyes. She chided herself for crying, she already expected his rejected, but Merlin, it hurts… "I'm sorry, Draco... I’m sure you probably have someone else in mind. Someone better, prettier an-"

She was interrupted with a kiss.

Just then, she knew.

-

They perused a relationship only known to a select few, even then; their knowledge was limited. It was a difficult time, where Voldemort was stronger and wiser than before yet still as ruthless at he has one been.

He was never thoroughly accepted by Hermione’s friends. ‘It’s just a phase; Hermione will soon grow out of it.’ They had thought. Nevertheless, they trusted him minimally and tolerated him as much as they could as a favor to Hermione. He did not care; Hermione was all that mattered. She was his obsession, his one reason of survival. He did not provoke her friends, even sometimes amazing himself at his restraint, mainly because he did not want to fall from her good graces. He joined her and her friends to fight against the abomination that threatened to enslave the Wizarding World.

He was no martyr. He never claimed to be. His reason for fighting was selfish. He needed to prove to his father that he was nothing like him. He wanted to let him see that he would never lower himself like a dog, begging for a little of its master’s food; groveling just for the sake of power that brought no honor.

The day before they were to act, a Death Eater had ambushed Hermione when she was on a visit to her parent’s house. She was wandless, and therefore at a great disadvantage. A barrier surrounded her house, separating him from her; making him powerless. As the barrier crumbled, he found her on the ground, on the brink of death. She made him promise to live and defeat Voldemort. Her last words. Hope died.

It was the last straw.

They attacked, unleashing everything they could. Aurors could be seen dueling with Death Eaters. Stray jets of light flew in all directions. In the middle of all the chaos stood Voldemort. Potter, Weasley, his sister and Draco threw spells, curses, jinxes, the Avada Kedavra, everything they could think of; at him. Voldemort survived, simply absorbing everything with a self-satisfied smirk.

The fact the Voldemort did not attack them did not occur them as suspicious. They were blinded by hatred and anger at the loss of loosing someone they loved dearly. Their emotions merely fueled Voldemort, who was supported by negative energy. Soon, Voldemort used the energy he absorbed and repelled them from him, in a gigantic force. As they remained in their fetal positions, Voldemort finally pointed his wand at them, intending to perform the Avada Kedavra curse on each of them. Potter suddenly remembered a key to Voldemort’s defeat; a single sentence that Dumbledore had used to say; "It is love that conquers all."

And it was. Potter channeled his remaining strength and focused on the emotion; love. The rest of them caught on and they used one final spell to attack Voldemort. A blinding white light filled the entire place and a scream so terrible it made a banshee pale in comparison was heard. Voldemort was finally gone.

Peace returned slowly, but surely to the wizarding world. Everything was finally over. His relationship with Hermione was finally made known. He had felt distraught, during that time, remembering how much Hermione wanted to keep their relationship out on the open. Gryffindors and Slytherins alike were soon mixing with each other. Everyone started his or her new lives, leaving the chaos behind. All of the Death Eaters that weren't killed were in Azkaban, his father among them, now heavily guarded with Gryffins and dragons, courtesy of Charlie Weasley.

Every time I look through this window and see his miserable face, I pity him. Everyone else had moved on, accepting Hermione’s death. He did not. He could not live without her. His drive to live was gone, leaving him with only the promise he made to Hermione. And he’d be damned if he broke his last promise to her.

He tries his best to live, even if it seemed like hell to him. He does not speak a word of his pain, merely masking it up with a fake cheer. To others, he seems to go on with his life as if nothing had changed, starting businesses, opening chains of shops…

How do I know all this and understand him so well, you ask?

Because the window I was looking through was actually a mirror.

And Draco Malfoy is me.