Mirror, Mirror

Mirror, Mirror.
Chapter 11.
Author’s notes: This chapter might be a little confusing, but it’s deliberate and will make sense in the end. Promise!
AddictedtoBuffy: I love guilty Angel as he does it so well. My challenge this fic has been Buffy and trying to keep her multi-dimensional. Having a lot of characters can be vexing; I seriously considered taking out the rest of the Scoobies before posting. If and when I go back and edit this thing I might cut them out for a cleaner read. *hug* for the review!
Zafaran: Thanks for the review! Things are going to get messier before they get better, unfortunately, but Angel and Riley might wind up together in the end. Though a part of me is quite put out that Lucius won’t be earning himself any Harry time in this story I do love how devious my Malfoys are.
***

He heard her sniffling before he found her, collapsed in a room that had obligingly opened. In his rush to follow he hadn’t really thought why he was chasing her or what he was going to say once he caught up. They had been drifting apart for a while now, but he’d still held on, not wanting to abandon the only stability in his world. He certainly hadn’t wanted to end like this, to embarrass her in any way.

“Buffy?” he quietly spoke to her rigid back, not daring to touch her. She was staring out the window, shoulders shaking. In the sunlight streaming in through the window her hair briefly looked almost white, her face oddly angled when she glared at him over one shoulder. “Buffy, you okay?”

“Why would I be okay, Riley?” she sighed, turning to face him full on.

Oh boy, there was that all too familiar guilt. “I am sorry, Buffy. I never meant to hurt you.”

“No, they never do,” she said with a bitter smile. “I know this curse isn’t your fault, but it’s made us face some truths, hasn’t it?”

“Yes.” Riley slumped back against the wall bordering the window casement, arms crossed as he stared down at his feet.

She propped her shoulder against the glass to study his profile. “Would you have ever told me? About being a wizard?”

“No.” His answer was easy, immediately given. “If the Ministry, the Initiative, had found out you knew they’d have Obliviated you. Made you forget everything you knew about wizards, but the magic can be sloppy. You could have lost an entire year of your life – as long as I’ve known you.”

“Good answer,” she said weakly.

Riley shrugged. “This whole thing with Angel isn’t helping though, is it?”

“Well, Angel is easy enough.” Buffy said. “Just remember, it’s not really you he’s in love with.” Riley’s shoulders stiffened, glancing over at her, but Buffy just plowed on, green eyes hard and resolute. “Angel will always love me.”

“Just as you love him?” Riley softly asked in return.

Her face said she truly did not want to hurt him, that Riley was a great guy, and she hoped he’d be able to one day understand, to find his own true love. “Yes,” she whispered brokenly. “I’m sorry, Riley, but I will only love him.”

~*~

“Okay,” Xander breathed against Wesley’s mouth, trembling fingers working the buttons of the Englishman’s shirt. The guy actually smelled good, really good, and Xander buried his nose against damp, warm skin. Wesley whimpered and Xander instinctively soothed him, held him closer. “Just let me take care of everything. That’s it, let go.”

They could do this.

Really, really do this.

~*~

Their end had felt weeks in coming but it still left Riley feeling nauseatingly disconnected from everything around him now that it was truly over. Buffy left after her rather cruelly gentle declarations, leaving Riley to mull his own realizations. Buffy’s reaffirmation of her love of Angel reminded him that while Angel had made any number of possessive statements about him he’d also never rejected his love of Buffy. Like his usual idiot self Riley was falling in love with someone who again didn’t love him back the same. Seemed he had more in common with his Mom than he’d ever suspected because falling for the wrong people was all on her. Buffy loved Angel and he her, which made him the third wheel and he laughed because he was tired of wanting to cry. When was he going to stop fucking up his life?

“Riley? Darling?” A pale, slim arm slid around his shoulders and Riley gratefully leaned into Narcissa’s hug.

“I just want this over with,” he whispered. “I’m tired.”

“Shhh,” his mother shushed, tucking back a few escaped locks in a habit Riley was beginning to suspect was an obsessive-compulsive ritual. He’d have to compare notes with his brother once he turned up. “Your father and I are here and we’re very good at getting out of untenable situations. Let’s go back and see what he’s found, okay?”

Riley would rather wallow in his self-pity, but honestly, more than anything, he did not want to deal with a falsely amorous Angel while Buffy watched on. Just thinking of it made his stomach roil and his chest clench. “Ummm,”

“I will send a house elf to Lucius telling him you wish privacy,” Narcissa answered with a mother’s keen intuition. “He will understand and send away everyone but Mr. Giles and Angel. We’ll make everything okay, my sweet one.”

~*~

Lucius had found their cursed mirror. The picture of it in the book did it more justice than reality did, but Riley recognized it nonetheless. The great volume of Practical Applications of Dark Curses and Their Sundry Objects, Volume IV, was spread open across a tall black marble bookstand and Riley was left alone to stand before it and read his fate. The Mirror of Aestus. As was the nature of these bonds consummation was the end goal; he’d already known this. It wouldn’t be a curse if the worse it made you do was share your chocolate stash (well, maybe for Harris that was true). No, it was the nasty particulars his eyes searched for, the rare counter curse if one was made mention of. Knowing the gritty details was imperative to even determining if a counter curse could be crafted. Sometimes conceding was easier but some curses bound its victims eternally: you die, I die spiels.

This one did have a time limit: if they could withstand its effects for one year than the bonding would dissolve. A year of daily, hourly, physical contact, because the impulse would grow ever stronger, without sex. Riley could not even imagine and he jerked a quick look over his shoulder at Angel. Sitting stiffly on one of the brocade couches with Giles next to him softly explaining what Riley had in front of him the vampire’s attention was solely focused on his person. Intense brown met nervous grey that widened to see the dark eyes slowly swirling golden. He quickly went back to reading. A year was definitely out.

If they fulfilled the bonding to the curse’s completion then all compulsions ended. The original crafter probably imagined both parties would then be married and who cared then if the couple went their physical separate ways? Riley ran his finger down the faded Latin, re-reading the passage again.

“Consummation ends the curse for good or else we tough it out for a year?” He surmised aloud.

“Yes.” Giles was the one who answered. “The mirror was forged in the mid-1700s. The year end clause is most likely a wave to the liberal cabinet of the time since no one could feasibly hold out for so long.”

“It’s called a shrew clause,” Riley softly mused. Why he found that amusing, he didn’t know, but he did.

“The important thing is that it is non-binding,” Narcissa said, coming up to her son’s side and slipping her arm around his waist.

“I thought the no kids requirement was a nice perk,” Snape dryly commented. Everyone else had been gone as Narcissa had promised, but the Potions Master had remained, in case his skills were needed.

“Can it be unmade?” Riley asked his mother quietly.

“Unfortunately, no. It’s simplicity makes it near impossible to break. If it was eternally binding then it would be substantive enough for a Curse Breaker like your father to unravel.” Narcissa paused, licking her lips. “There is, however, no penalization if the bond is terminally ended.”

Kill Angel rather than have sex with him? “No!” Riley furiously whispered back. “He’s no more to blame for this than I am! This isn’t worth killing over!”

She pursed her lips, black eyes slanting toward the watching vampire. “Do not be so hasty in the largesse of your mercy, my son. As it is within his rights to cry foul once all is done the safest course is for you to carry through as passively as you can. Have you any familiarity with lying with men?”

“I’m not telling you that,” Riley gritted out, blushing furiously.

“Just hold it in mind, sweetling, as you commit to this decision.” A kiss of soft lips to the corner of his mouth and Narcissa stepped away to address those watching. “I will go make ready a room as Riley has chosen the most expedient means of ending this curse. Mr. Angel, a house elf will direct you up shortly.”

She was barely out the door, Riley barely a step from the podium, when Angel leapt up. He almost beat Giles to his side but the Englishman had already been on his feet and was considerably closer. Giles grabbed Riley’s arm, ignoring all the glares thrown his way, and dragged him into a corner, away from the others.

“First of all,” Giles began, grabbing Riley’s eyes with his own, “are you okay? We have all been worried for you.”

Riley couldn’t help stiffening. “Even though I’m a Malfoy?” he bit out, Lucius’ words still fresh in his mind.

Giles’ eyes narrowed, but he didn’t look surprised at the attack. “None of us can affect the nature of our birth. I know purebloods put a great deal of stock into their legacies, but you need to remember a hairstyle change is only superficial. I trust you are still the young man I had invited into my home and had come to respect.”

Flushing in guilt, Riley defensively crossed his arms, shoulders hunching him into the wall. “I’m sorry, Mr. Giles. I shouldn’t have said that. I’d never known who my father was and now I find out I have another mother! It’s been a lot.”

“I imagine so. I expect things will work themselves out, but no matter the outcome I am not leaving you here to make these decisions alone,” Giles said, squeezing Riley’s shoulder. The blond jerkily nodded. “Riley, having three parents, three houses to draw on, makes you a uniquely powerful wizard. Do not fear the Malfoys changing their minds about wanting you. Quite the opposite, really.”

Riley could not meet the man’s eyes, feeling his insides churn as he confessed his fears staring off over the Englishman’s shoulder. “Even though I’m going to play keeper for Angel? Narcissa was not what I’d call happy.”

“Considering everything those two have done to survive,” Giles dryly said, “’hypocrisy’ would insufficiently describe their behavior if they harshly judge you.” The man had the grace to blush, but soldiered on with his self-appointed task. “Are you okay doing this? I cannot predict Angel’s reaction once this curse is ended.”

It was a doubt that plagued Riley’s thoughts, but he just nodded. “I’ll survive, sir, thank you.”

Giles sighed. “I’ve no doubt you will.”

~*~

Riley fled the room after a short word with his father and an even briefer glance at Angel. In need of a stiff drink Giles directed himself towards the liqueur cabinet. Malfoy certainly kept a nice stock, but he went straight for an old friend without hesitation. “Would anyone else be in need of a drink?”

His question briefly drew Angel’s attention from his clenched fists. “I’ll take a dry scotch, thanks.”

“Ehmm,” Giles hummed in acknowledgement, reaching for another glass while he took a whiff of a jeweled decanter of whiskey.

One thunked down on the bar near his elbow, heralding Lucius appearing at his side. “You are making me seem the poor host, Mr. Giles. Allow me.”

Giles dipped his graying head. “My apologies, Mr. Malfoy.”

The former Death Eater waved a hand in dismissal. “Not needed, sir. I do not know you, but I appreciate the concern you have shown for my son. I haven’t even had the opportunity to thank you for bringing him to Hogwarts. It was through your actions we found each other.”

Giles masked his grimace with a healthy swig from his glass, the gin burning all the way down. He could not articulate all he wanted to say to Malfoy but it would start with “fuck you, you bloody git”. Riley had earned his respect, winning free of the Initiative and their vile bottom line. The boy had the makings of a great wizard, but his was a treacherous path. Damn him a bigot, but he was certain that if Riley stayed with the Malfoys no good would come of his life.

“Riley is a fine young man,” Giles said at last. “I brought him here to save him.”

“Well, you did the right thing,” Lucius said and Giles did not think he imagined his sanctimonious tone. Git. “Though it has taken over two decades, Narcissa and I are confident we will have all our family with us at last.”

The man had no idea he had once called himself Remus Lupin, housemate and friend to Turan McGonagall. The never dead wolf stirred in him at the perceived threat. Did the Malfoys truly mean to resume their hunt for their lost lover after twenty years? Then again, they did not before have Turan’s only child to lure her out of hiding. He could not leave Riley here, no matter the boy’s misguided wishes. If he had to, he’d kidnap Riley himself and damn Malfoy’s wrath.

~*~

He found her sitting in an austere solar, the large windows that let in the afternoon sunlight somehow incapable of chasing away the chill of the stone room. How she had found this little frozen room he wasn’t certain, but wizard houses as old as the Malfoys’ seemed to have a mind of where you needed to be and brought you there. She was curled up on one the couches that ringed the room, hugging herself as she stared out at whatever stretched beyond. Beautiful, elaborate gardens that would defy Muggle aesthetics most likely, but her face gave away nothing but conflicting anger and despair.

“Buffy.”

Her head jerked around at his voice, followed quickly by her body, red staining her cheeks. “Professor Potter! I’m sorry for running off like that – for yelling and making on like I was in one of those bad soaps Spike watches, really, but if they roped you into dragging me back, then sorry, yeah,” she faintly finished her rush of words, cheeks red.

“Don’t worry, I volunteered,” Harry said, shrugging his shoulders. “No one is going to say these last few days have been easy but your boyfriend cursed into a joining with your ex-boyfriend? Sounds like a soap opera to me.”

Buffy laughed, dropping back onto the couch. “Yeah. Maybe that’s why none of this feels real. Riley’s really a magician and a platinum blond with hair I would kill for? I feel like I’m going though these motions because it’s what I should do, but Riley and me were never here at this place with all this drama.”

“What do you mean?” Harry asked, sitting next to her. A little wandless magic heated the room more to his comfort level and he saw Buffy’s shoulders subtly un-tense.

“Riley is gorgeous and smart and sweet, but we were never Romeo and Juliet, you know?” She rubbed at her mouth. “And that was me. I wanted sex and I wanted easy because I was stupid with Angel and I didn’t want that again.”

“Being in love.”

“Yeah.” Her face turned away, her entire body turned away, looking back out at the gardens. “I know what kind of person that makes me. Riley is a better person than I deserve, but it hurts to see Angel look at him like he used to look at me. I hate watching them together because they can be what I can’t. I hate it that what I see isn’t even real but it’s still better than anything I ever gave them.”

Harry sighed, slumping back against the window casement. “I wanted to teach kids how to defend themselves but I also became a teacher because the man I loved joined the Aurors – the, ah, wizard equivalent to your FBI,” he elaborated at her blank look. “I did a lot of horrible things to defeat Voldemort, became something cold and heartless so I could prove strong enough to defeat the greatest evil of the last century.” It felt weird, speaking so baldly about events he usually avoided even thinking about, but there was a desperation in this little girl that called to him to share his own. “I had this destiny and it consumed me. I had lost my parents, my godfather, and I wasn’t going to lose anyone else I loved so I pushed them all away. Even the boy I loved though I’d never had the guts to tell him.

A deep breath and he pushed on. “In the end, I had become something terrible and driven. I won, but I had no idea what to do with myself after. I was a hero to everyone but all I felt was hollowed out, empty.” Slowly Buffy had turned towards him, such awful empathy in her eyes that Harry felt his heart clench for the too young girl. “They all had these expectations of normal; that I would marry the queen of some beauty pageant, make little Harrys and dedicate my life to good works by becoming an Auror, one day Minister. None of them seemed to understand how wrong I felt inside.”

“Like Real is just something you pretend at,” Buffy whispered.

He nodded. “I dated the Perfect Girl for all of a month before I ran away,” Harry smiled, but there was little amusement in his eyes. “I lost myself in places that had no names for I don’t know how long, but when a friend finally found me, I was ready to go back. I was still hollow inside but it wasn’t so terrible a feeling any more. I had tried filling it with all manner of sex and drugs, but nothing kept it long filled. Couldn’t stand to be around the man I still loved, to find out he couldn’t take away the terribleness inside either, so I accepted the job here.”

Buffy smirked. “Are you telling me I should run away? And I kinda got the heavy vibe that you and Carrot Top were, like, bunny buddies.”

“Bunny buddies?” Harry laughed. “I guess that’s a description. We’re not in love, if that’s what you’re asking. We . . . keep each other from being alone. It was fussy Perfect Percy who knew all the dark places to look for me in.”

“A good friend, then.”

“He turned out to be one of the best. Tell me what’s it like being the Slayer,” Harry quietly answered. “Tell me what’s it like to have a destiny where the evil never stops.”

“I thought I asked you to look after Willow, not me,” Buffy snapped defensively.

“Percy is talking to Willow and Tara right now,” Harry calmly answered. “He knows a little something about giving in to your darker side. Tell me about what makes you so hollow inside you will cling to a man you do not love and hold bitter, unrequited faith with the one you do.”

And so Buffy did.

~*~

The two Slytherins were waiting for her in Lucius’ rooms. Narcissa sank gracefully into her favorite chair angled to face Lucius’ bed, flicking a glance over at her husband and old friend. The two boys were conspiratorially crowded in front of Lucius’ full length mirror, talking in hushed tones. What were they doing? Severus moved slightly, letting her see they were watching the going ons about the manor via the mirror. Presently the Weasley boy was speaking to the two Muggle girls in the North gardens.

It didn’t look like an altogether pleasant conversation. Weasley was pale, his features pinched. The girls were crying. Narcissa felt some stirring of sympathy. “What is he doing to them?”

“Telling them why it’s such a bad idea to dabble in Dark Arts,” Severus said.

“Could such Muggle practitioners truly threaten any one?” Narcissa critically asked. She’d given them a dreamall to collect what memories they had of Riley and neither girl had noticed the intrusion.

“By what do you mean, dear, the red head is a witch,” Lucius arched an eyebrow in her direction before turning back to study the girl in question. “Though a mudblood, she’s obviously a witch.” Seeing their disbelieving, incredulous looks he defensively drew himself up. “Auras do not lie and hers is easy enough to read if you’ve the sight to look.”

Lucius never did lie lightly, and he had no reason to now. It was a talent of a Malfoy, to see all the different magicks that filled the world. It was what made him an excellent curse-breaker. “The girl said she was never summoned to a school,” Severus snapped.

“I don’t care,” Lucius shrugged, “I am merely stating the obvious.”

“Fine.” Severus rolled his eyes. “No one would actually want you to inconvenience yourself helping anyone not related to your exalted self.”

“You know me so well, Severus,” Lucius smirked.

Narcissa sighed and snapped her wand at the mirror. The surface flickered and the Muggle children’s wizard guardian came into view. The man had been left with his liquor in Lucius’ study and was presently perusing some of their more esoteric titles.

“There are far too many people in this house,” Narcissa stated matter of factly.

“Very true, my love,” Lucius said, gliding closer. Severus lingered at the mirror before he reluctantly followed after. “I take it Riley is ridding himself of his curse?”

“Yes.” She withdrew a small empty vial from her bodice, returning it to Severus. “I gave him the cleanser in his calming potion like you said, Severus, and charmed the doorway after he left so it shouldn’t activate until after he returns.”

The incriminating vial vanished from Severus’ hand. “If the vampire did indeed blood bond with the boy then you will soon know the truth when he purges the tainting.” He smiled. “I would recommend having some immediate means of disposal handy.”

“Riley is definitely in the creature’s thrall,” Lucius affirmed. “You did not witness his unusual behavior on the balcony. He was responding to a compulsion.”

“So, Severus,” Narcissa said, not wanting to talk about her possessed son anymore when she couldn’t hex the monster responsible, “tell us how you know this Rupert Giles. You seemed intimately familiar with the man.”

“He works for the Watchers’ Council,” the black haired man answered curtly. Though the Muggle organization was largely unknown to the Wizarding public, the Malfoys knew of the agency that straddled their worlds, monitoring demonic and magical energy in the Muggle world thanks to Lucius’ Ministry position. They understood that the Watchers worked with the various Ministries throughout the world, employing wizards and Muggles alike to carry out their mission. Those insane politicians who spouted Wizard/Muggle unity loved to hold up the Watchers as their shining example. The Malfoys hated them as much as they hated those liberals idiots.

“I didn’t know you had done work for the Watchers,” Narcissa said coldly.

“I haven’t,” Severus sneered, mollifying them somewhat. The two blonds immediately warmed, exchanging a glance, amusement clear in their eyes. Their Severus was never so fierce as when he was put into a corner about his personal life and Rupert Giles was obviously personal.

“Well then,” Narcissa said, standing to step over to her husband and kiss him sweetly. “I should return to Riley’s room to await his return. Severus, are you staying?”

“No. Potter will remain, but I should return to Hogwarts. Minerva’s doubtless stirred up quite the ruckus trying to find her grandson.” He arched a brow. “I am assuming the correct paternity tests have been completed for your new bouncing baby boy?”

“Done and registered with the Ministry,” Lucius answered smugly. “You can tell your Headmistress where the boy’s landed without any sufferance of torture.”

“Then I suppose congratulations are in order.” Severus hesitated then, obviously questioning if he should voice what he really wanted to know, but then he forged ahead. “Has he told you where to find his mother?”

“Not yet,” Lucius said with a bare hint of frustration coloring his voice, “but there’s hardly been time for such conversations.”

“He is a cautious one, our new swan,” Narcissa explained easily, dropping her usual endearment of “kitten” for the expected “swan”. A Malfoy never naively gave away secrets, even to their most trusted friends.

Severus nodded. “A true Malfoy then, is he?” Her husband could not look more pleased at the acknowledgement. Not even Severus’ next words could dampen his pride. “Has Draco been told yet he is no longer your sole heir and is not even oldest?” The man seemed to relish imagining his godson’s reaction to such news and Narcissa arched an eyebrow at his smirk.

“While it has been some time since a Malfoy had to share power,” Lucius said, “they will learn.” Or he would make them went unsaid.

“Draco was not raised to squander power,” Narcissa contributed on her son’s behalf. It was possible, if Draco possessed the strength of will, for him to bind his brother’s powers to his own, much like they had done with Turan’s. Her son could rival Potter if he had Riley to draw on. Narcissa smiled. “Draco will realize what a boon having a brother will bring him.”

~*~

Muttering under his breath and shaking off the urge to scour his flesh Draco Malfoy landed back in his London flat. He’d almost been brought to the point of begging before that obviously over-sexed Muggle had convinced that lunatic Wyndham-Pryce to let them go. If he’d been forced to watch Muggle sex he would have gouged his eyes out. And with a Hufflepuff! Yeah, he recognized the name, alright, remembered his father going off about one of his old classmates having such a disgrace. Uaugh! Even being spared the whole of the entire act he still felt violated.

Before he went into his kitchen for a calming spot of tea he dumped Ron’s dead weight on his leather couch, perversely satisfied to hear the dull thunk of his head against the wood satin edged arm. Bloody prat had slept through all the horror of the past several hours, he deserved a little pain. Absently he straightened the redhead’s limbs and corrected a few flyaway curls.

It was long habit that had prompted him to visit his heavily warded flat before going on to Hogwarts to give McGonagall her bloody piece of parchment. Any urgent missives, no matter where they were originally addressed, would be re-routed to here. It never hurt to be forewarned before he again ventured forth and he shuffled through the stack while waiting on his tea.

The letter from his father immediately jumped out at him. His parents often passed along harmless invitations and gossip they felt could aid his career but anything of actual import was marked by a silver dragon in the right topmost corner spelled for his eyes only. Whatever the missive contained required his immediate attention and he hastily ripped away the seal.

The scroll unrolled itself, his father’s elegant scrawl scratching across the vellum. //Draco, at your earliest convenience. The son of Turan has been found and brought home. – Lucius// That was his father, containing the wealth of the world in the fewest words. Spells could be broken, even the powerful ones Lucius cast on his correspondence, and old habits made him even more obtuse. Turan was a name Draco knew, however. He’d get McGonagall her parchment and then fetch himself home.

After a purifying bath.

~*~

TBC.