Sometimes, when I see my reflection on the mirror, I let my mind wanders. As I study the young man with platinum blonde hair that always groomed meticulously perfect and eyes like molten silvers, my imagination will work out. Then, the sharp and high cheek-bones will be lifted as pouty red lips—too pouty to be a man’s—morphed into a very rare smile.
I will hold the smile before studying the reflection again. I look different. With a genuine smile replacing the usual hate sneer and mischievous, almost naughty twinkles on my otherwise ice cold eyes, I look...happy. Like a normal boy.
Something that a Malfoy isn’t allowed to be. Malfoys are not normal.
Then I’ll pretend that the world behind mirror exist. A world that is identical and yet so very different from this world. I’ll entertain myself that in that world, Draco Malfoy is a happy, normal boy. Draco Malfoy doesn’t have to hide his true face, is allowed to show his emotions—crying, laughing, angry, jealously, loving—instead of killing them.
I’ll imagine the mirror Draco put his uniform hastily because he was late, like any normal teenagers, and in the haste, forget to button his white shirt and of course, the tie was made very poorly. It was a total opposite to what I’m doing, straightening my already-straight-robes, with an underside shirt that was chocking me, and knotting my tie perfectly.
Mirror Draco will, in my imagination, huffed at his bedside head and simply ran a hand through it, not putting so many spells only to make sure there’s not even one strand of hair that was out of place.
The other me will grin at his reflection then—at me—and nod in satisfaction for all of his imperfection, for all messy appearances he’d maintain to gain, before slinging his bag lazily over his shoulder and walking out. Ready to face another normal day as a normal boy.
I’ll stand there, in front of the mirror still, the smile fell from my face. My trademark sneer taking its place again. I look at the reflection of a perfectly dressed young man with cold eyes and I snarl.
Because for all the imperfections mirror Draco’s shown, he is still perfectly normal. So very true, not fake, like me.
I envy him for that.
-0-
I’ll imagine that Mirror World again whenever you bumped me at school. Of course, it’s not always you who bumped me first. Actually, most of times it was me who bumped you and then sneered.
Accusing you for something that was completely my fault is what I do almost every day.
You’ll sneer back at me, of course. You are a Gryffindor, they are known for their quick temper. Even your house’s colour indicates it. Red always makes people more aggressive.
I’ll taunt you for your “Poor excuse of a sneer, even a baby can do better than that,” in my perfect mocking tone. My friends will laugh and your friends will be outraged. I can see Weasley’s face reddening dangerously and Granger looks like she will burst a steam over her ears soon.
We never care about them though, do we? No. Whenever we meet, it almost like no one else matters. Sure, they are all around us, laughing, sneering, adding the background noises—not music because music is nice and their sounds are not—but that’s what they are, isn’t it? Background. This is our play, where we are the main star. I know it and you know it also.
Insulting Weasley gives me no thrill at all. He is too easily worked up it’s not even worth it. I can simply greet him, without any bad intention and his face will turn an ugly shade of red, accusing me for plotting something evil. What a laugh!
No, I’m always only attracted by you. You. No one else. At first, I don’t even know why I bother. Maybe because you are ignoring me. No Malfoys take ignorance well. As time passed by though, I start to question myself, is it really the reason? Just because you ignored me, I was acting like a five year old with a temper tantrum. I realized there must be something else.
Then I’ll back to wonder about the Mirror World. Every time we meet, we confront each other. With each confrontation, I start to feel different. I think different. Whilst I usually think what insult will hurt you best, now I think of how your eyes will blaze when they glare at me. When I was supposed to think where I should punch you, I realized how hard your muscles are instead. When I looked down at you, I was thinking of how fast you’ve grown, you’re almost catching my height.
Above all that though, I notice a small glimpse of amusement in your eyes whenever we insult each other. You make it almost like a banter. A silly banter between two friends; Friends who know each other best because they are so similar.
I’ll wonder then, whether you also have your other you in the Mirror World or not. I like to imagine you do though. Then... I dare hope that mirror you and mirror me are friends. Like what should have happened when we first met, when you reject my friendship.
I usually imagine that when we are at class, History of Magic, actually. I will imagine you sat beside me in the Mirror World, complaining about the boring class—although maybe in the Mirror World, the class is interesting—or how you really hate Crabbe’s snore.
I’ll imagine Mirror me chuckling at your sentences, agreeing about the class and the snores and then telling you some random jokes. I hope Mirror me is funny though. I like being funny with my wits.
What I really love to imagine is your smile though. I thought that since Mirror you and Mirror me are friends, then you’ll openly laughed at my joke, snickered at my silly brags, chuckled at my embarrassment. Even here, in this world where we’re not friends, I always love your smiles. I’m looking for your laughs, struggling to catch your chuckles.
Even here, where we are enemy, your happiness is always affecting me. So I imagine, in the Mirror World, I’ll always be very happy.
-0-
When Father, Lucius, call me to his study, I’ll let my mind wanders to the Mirror World silently. I’ll keep my face blank and give responses at times, an act that was mastered by all Malfoys since they were toddler. Occasionally I’ll focus back to Lucius. I’ll study him. He looks very much alike with me. People often say that I was a carbon copy of my Father. They are wrong.
Although I’m almost identical with Lucius, but I am an exact carbon copy of my Mother, Narcissa. Save for the silver eyes though. Lucius’ blonde hair is a shade darker than mine. Of course, with the light playing at them, it is a very difficult difference to be seen. There are still some more visible differences though, like my body is leaner than Lucius. My fingers are longer, like a pianist’s fingers. My movements are gracefully flowing, like air, wind. Lucius’ movements are gracefully demanding, like water, strong and noticeable.
The most basic difference though: I have feelings still, like my Mother. I’m sure my Father’s feelings were gone since the first time he bow low to the Dark Lord.
That is another reason I love to wonder about the Mirror World. I imagine there’s nothing like Voldemort there. I imagine my Father is normal, like any Father. He will praise me when I got good scores, he won’t be disgust to hug me when I was a little boy. He won’t push me to bow low to a madman and reduce myself into a slave.
I amuse myself in thinking that in the Mirror World, my Father will love me. Total opposite from the real condition.
But again, I think that’s not good, is it? If everything is total opposite then that means my Mother will be bad! No, I can’t let that happened! Mother is someone whom I truly respect. People thought I respect Lucius, idolized him even. Yet, there’s nothing more inaccurate than that.
I was forced to respect Lucius. Through fear. Through mind-numbing pain of Cruciatus Curse. Through my own ear-splitting scream. Only crazy people will actually idolize him. But only a crazier man dares to disobey him after so much pain.
Of course, thinking like that means that I think you are crazy, crazier than me even. Who can blame me though? You are really insane with all of your courage. I can’t even start to imagine how it feels to face a man that has kill your parents. How was it, duelling with the strongest Dark Lord alive when you are only a teenager? How can you keep your wits when you’re facing a Basilisk in a mere age of twelve?
Yes, you are crazy in my eyes. Yet, all of your craziness just attracts me even more.
Sometimes, I really hope Mirror World exist. I will trade anything in prospect to be friend with you. Sometimes though, I’m glad it doesn’t exist.
Yes, I contradict myself. That’s what makes me intriguing for you, isn’t it?
-0-
...continue to part 2
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