October 11th, 1991 (Part 2)

Obsessive love. Destructive love. Ruinous love.

They are all I am capable of.

I knew the kind of person I was. The kind I have always been —even in elsewhere. In every life I am of the particular brand that will save their love even if it damns the world. No matter the cost. No matter the darkness I myself had to delve into. And I chose to love the Malfoys. I chose it with everything I had, knowing what they had done. I saw the truth of them from the beginning. How could I not after Lucius cast crucio on the other side of the nursery door —after watching Narcissa call an auror mudblood and demanding an appropriate wizard to handle Lucius’ case? They had not yet been Mother and Father. They had simply been background dressing. But when they smiled —I knew. When Father embraced Mother so tenderly, when he whispered of the greatness his children will bring to the wizarding world, when he read to me about dark charms for novice witches, I was gone. When Mother brushed my hair, whispering to me how beautiful I would grow to be, when she taught me how to control a room with the power I deserved, when she told me I deserved the world, I was gone. When Draco stood next to me, when he held me as I screamed due to unforgettable horrors haunting my mind, when he followed me into the woods to run, when he was so worried for me he went accidental, I once again was a half of a whole. We were Castor and Pollux, born under the twin star Gemini.

I would bleed myself dry to save my family from their future. I knew it. I knew it.

So I should not have been surprised when the Mirror of Erised showed me three people in matching robes. Mother, Father, and Draco. Cold expressions on their faces as if posing for a portrait.

I would pull my heart from my chest if Draco lost his own. I knew it. I knew it.

So I should not have been surprised when I was not standing among my family. Rather, I was a specter haunting the background. I knew I was never meant to belong. I should not have been shocked.

As my eyes roved the mirror-Malfoys, I couldn’t help but notice the small twitch in Father’s dimple —or the way he held one hand lightly on the small of Mother’s back while the other sat protectively on Draco’s shoulder, there was no more room left for me. It was in the way Mother’s eyes darted to look at Draco, a slight tilt to her lips, that I was reminded that smile was never meant for me. It was in the smug look on Draco’s face, the confidence of the serpent that he deserved to circle the world. The dead eyes of my own ghost fading in and out of existence as it hovered above my family, wrapping myself in a halo.

In my heart I knew I could only love one way. I only had one setting.

It still stung to know my heart knew it too.

It knew I would not survive my own ruinous love. Not the times before —and not this time either.

But the mirror was right. The world would move along. And even these three —older and wiser than they are now, in reality— would recover from my loss. Would thrive in this world without the shackles placed on them in elsewhere.

The Mirror of Erised has always been a tool to breed obsession. It shows sweet things —your heart’s deepest desire. It is not meant to be something that brings unease. But I am already obsessed with my family. And this was an easy reminder that my ruinous love trumps even my own self esteem.

Yet my work is not done until the war ends. My purpose is unfulfilled until Draco is Heir, Father has power, and Mother has more money that Gringotts can hold. Until no one can deny the Malfoy name. Until the very being that threatens my family, the immortal monster, is dead and gone. Until the story is completed.

“Or changed,” I huffed as I brought my hand up to the mirror and reached for–

“Such things aren’t so easily changed, but our hearts grow quickly when we are young, Miss Malfoy.”

I snapped back and whipped towards the voice, a blank expression filling my face and my mind emptied of all thoughts as I took in the man standing in the doorway.

“Headmaster,” I spoke with a noticeable lack of deference and a marginally unnoticeable bit of disdain.

There he was, in his bright blue robes with silver suns charmed to cloud over with his mood -Father received a similar robe for Yule once and threw it back into the Floo. White trim to match the hair that betrays just how ancient Dumbledore truly is paired with the deep crevices of his face. Over a century of time dedicated to pursuing dark witches and wizards. There is poetry in the fact that he stands before me now –as I am thinking of just what a time bomb I have become. Of how I would destroy all of Wizarding Britain if it meant the world would be at the Father’s feet. Of how I would cow all those that stand against the name Malfoy –and I would do it violently.

There is poetry in the way his eyes are twinkling below his crescent glasses as I let my eyes meet his. There is poetry in the way I feel exposed, as though my every thought is displayed. There is poetry in the wince the headmaster makes as he attempts a feat even the Dark Lord could not. There is poetry in the fact that even natural Legilimens could not absorb my memory, yet this man feels it his entitlement. There is a tragedy in there as well. There is a tragedy in the way Dumbledore thinks himself a hero –but he will never know the villain in his midst. There is a tragedy in the way I think myself a villain –destined to die in sacrifice. There is a tragedy in the way we are living dichotomous lives, both striving for a world reforged in our images yet with juxtaposed ends. One or both may die, but both cannot live.

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

“All due respect,” I let my voice settle as I step towards Dumbledore —and away from the mirror, “But I do not think my heart will change enough to disrupt the mirror.”

No. The mirror is not an oracle. But it read my heart –my intentions. And it showed me the future I want the most. A thriving set of Malfoys for them and an eternity of watching them thrive for me.

I could see his mind working, as he tried to decipher what his mind was absorbing. Four thousand and one spells flitted through my mind in perfect clarity as he maintained eye contact. All of them related to privacy wards. I hoped, a bit too much, that it gave him a nosebleed. Thus, I accidentally flooded my mind with a hundred different wounds –blood pouring and splashing or seeping. My mind became hateful and malicious and filled to the brim with horror. It was a pleasure to watch Dumbledore recoil at the onslaught.

“Interesting,” came the hum of his aged voice, a faux creak meant to soften his harsh edges, “What one must have seen to be so sure –quite interesting, indeed.”

“Not so.” I let a gentle smile spread, “I simply saw something I already knew. But if you’re interested we can trade.”

“A trade, hmm?” He thought for a moment before letting out a laugh, “How very ambitious of you, Miss Malfoy.”

“I am a snake.”

“Tutut, you are a Slytherin.” He gently corrected.

Now that was interesting. Snakes must be in poor form in his memories. While fair, it is novel that he’s making a point to correct it here –with an unrelated eleven year old.

“That too, sir,” Merlin, being respectful was hard when I found the very soul of the man foul, “But I am not one for such small differentiations. I’m just another part of the snake pit.”

“Snake pit?” He brushed through his snowy beard and gave a huff, “Now that is troublesome. Who is calling you that?”

I felt a genuine laugh leave me, “We do, Headmaster. You may not be a fan of our house –but we love it. No matter how others view us, it is a point of pride to be a snake in Slytherin.”

“Hmmm, yes, I suppose it would be.”

Well that was rather loaded.

“Sir, I should really go, excuse me,” I was already by the door, I simply needed him to move so I could leave.

“I would expect you to have asked again,” he paused, as if weighing his next words, “The trade, that is.”

I settled my smile back into a gentle thing, something preserved only for the weak. A mask meant for marks. No one of positive value would receive such a smile.

“Ah, I figured you were trying to decline —would you have said yes?”

“Oh, yes, Miss Malfoy,” he smiled, “What is a bit of my secrecy for one’s deepest desire?”

“Then you would have lied,” My smile never waivered, and what a sight it must have been to see such a gentle smile paired with such words, “And I would have been able to tell —so I would have lied right back. And neither of us would know anything of value.”

As he stepped to the side and I began walking down the hallway, I heard his voice clear as day —though he spoke softly.

“To the contrary, Miss Malfoy. We both would have learned much —as we have now.”

I was on fire. My very blood boiled. That man is, was, and will forever be, even in death, a menace.

And I was a bomb, fuse lit and beginning to burn.

Still, for all that I was wired from Dumbledore there was something to be said about the family in the mirror. Strictly speaking, I was trying to ignore the fourth living body I saw. I had blocked it from my thoughts. But it was turning my stomach and reminding me why my love is so ruinous. It ruins me. Thus, it was a terrible decision to let my feet take me where they willed—to the soul who took up that fourth spot. Someone I refused to even think about positively. Someone I have treated as an enemy. Yet, even after I realized where I was and who I was getting ready to see, I did not stop myself from knocking.

And I was ready to bare my soul to whoever answered. I was on fire.

“No.” Came a drawling from somewhere far behind the doorway.

“Severus,” I knocked again, my very bones feeling the pressure of my mind as I wished my Godfather would just open the door, “I need your help.”

“Medea?” I could hear the rustling of his cloak as he rushed to the door, pulling it open quickly enough to force his hair back from the wind, “What has happened?”

I clenched my sides with all the force I could muster, “I saw something. And I’m out of potions. And I ran today after I left your office. And I haven’t eaten since yesterday. And-“

I was cut off as he dragged me inside his quarters by the shoulder, “Yes, you foolish girl. You have done all that and have come to me. What happened to rejoicing my disinheritance?”

He hadn’t really asked it as a question so I chose not to answer. Because the truth was he was meddlesome. For all his sniping and emotional distance, Snape had never actually disliked me.

Arguably, he loved me. Just as he loved Draco. How could I have ever forgotten the vow he took to save my brother? The potions he custom made for me when I ran so intensely I destroyed every tendon in my knees? When he made me eat when I turned eight —because Malfoys do not go three days without food, even if they’re stressed? That, even when I ignored him and ran from him and called him horrible things, he continued to snark at me all the while making sure I was acting as a human and not the monster I was sure to become?

“I can’t take it,” My voice broke, “Severus, I need a Draught of Peace —or a numbing potion. Merlin, I’d even take a sleeping potion. I just can’t take any more of this.”

As he shoved me down into a chair, he promptly turned around and went to grab a tea set.

“What, exactly, can you not take?” His voice was measured, and I had my eyes shut so tight not even a shred of light could make it through. I wanted the moment not the memory.

“Knowing. I can’t take knowing!” I cried as the dam broke and tears built behind eyelids began flowing, my eyes snapped open and I locked onto Severus’ turned face, “I know too much and it makes me dark -and angry -and obsessed with knowing more. And I can’t forget. Anything.”

With a swish of his wand, two cups sat on the table in front of me and a teapot poured a dark liquid. He didn’t stop me as I continued on.

“I can’t stand it. I know I was gone. All the healers thought so. Mother and Father thought so. I know you did as well. And yet still I arrived and in doing so I have taken half of what is Draco’s —and I want to give it back.” I ended on a hush, “I know it all. The things you said to me when I was a baby —‘Meddy you are a miracle’ ‘A second born Malfoy, she must be magic’ ‘A Goddaughter and a Godson, both’. But it should’ve been him. I’ve taken his happiness. The love that belonged to him.”

It was the shattering of the cup that made me look back up and witness the rage contorting Severus’ face.

“Medea, you will stop this.” Severus’ voice had more emotion shaking it than I could muster on my best day, and it was all directed at me, “You have not stolen the affection given freely to you.”

I choked on a sob, “I’ll give it back. When we’re older, I’ll give it back. You all can have each other and I will just go elsewhere.”

“What has made you like this? What did you see?” He hissed.

“You!” I cried, “I found the Mirror of Erised and I saw you! Right next to Mother and Father! Across from Draco —you were there!”