Mirror, Mirror

Mirror, Mirror
Chapter 13

~*~

It was not an easy feat to claim a small space of privacy within the heavily warded heart of the Malfoy seat, but Harry managed to cloak one small closet. Not for long; a blank spot in the wards would stand out as sharply as any breach if it stayed long enough to be brought to Lucius’ attention, but Harry didn’t need it but for a few minutes. His quarry was making his deliberate way down the hall, slim figure almost seeming to flicker in and out of existence as Harry’s sight struggled to pierce the disillusionment spells that tightly weaved the man. It was only by cause that his own magic had aided in the casting that he was able to see him at all. Unless you knew to look for him and had the power to see him he was a nothing more than a disturbance of air.

Percy walked right into his arms and Harry held him as fiercely as he knew the redhead needed him to. A few short years ago the thin, uptight redhead would have never made Harry’s list of possible best friend, yet he was The Boy Who Lived’s sole confidant now. They filled each other’s dark places and if that sometimes made them lovers it also made them brothers. Percy had fallen to the dark and climbed his way back up only to willingly descend again to carry back a man he had only known as a child. Being the strength Percy needed now to live among other wizards was nothing in Harry’s estimation. He could have wished for a happier future for them, for he and Percy both to have won the love they hungered for but he’d long ago accepted neither of them were deserving of such reward.

“Things are about to boil over around here,” Harry said quietly, never ceasing his petting of the redhead’s straight back. For his part Percy did not hug him back but to tuck his face into Harry’s neck, fingers clenched in his robes. “I think it’s time we saw this trouble away from our doorstep. Watch out for the American girls and Giles if you can. Get them out of here if things starting going too badly. You’re not to let yourself get hurt.”

“Yes, Harry,” Percy answered, just as he always did. Harry gave him a last bit of affection and then sent him out, quickly dismantling his privacy wards before he stepped out of the closet and went on his own hunt. People rarely saw who Harry Potter truly was beneath the mask he’d carefully constructed. Perhaps they didn’t want to acknowledge the darkness war had stained his soul and magic with. It tarnished their victory if their savior turned out as broken and haunted as the evil he’d fought in their name. No one but Percy had proven the strength to look beyond their love or hate for Harry Potter, the Savior. His quarry was no different, though his eyes were fogged with guilt.

~*~

“Mr. Giles.”

The older man froze for a brief moment before he turned to greet the son of one of his lost friends. He still carried a great deal of regret regarding James Potter, but he carried more for abandoning Harry, twice. “Hey, cub. I had hoped we would get to talk, but I wasn’t certain if you would want to.”

Harry hesitated in the doorway before he finally committed and stepped into the room. His lips quirked and Giles watched old hurts rise up in those large emerald eyes. “Yeah. Your letters, they helped get me through the rest of my school years. I was angry at Dumbledore and Snape for a long time that they sent you away, but I was never angry at you.”

“Dumbledore couldn’t change a world’s prejudices at a whim,” Giles gently reminded him. “And what lay between Severus and I could not be so easily forgiven. You had a right to be angry at all of us, Harry. I left you.”

“You survived. I could never hate you for doing that.” The young man went quiet after that, staring down at his feet before he again spoke, quieter. “You’re all that’s left to me of them.”

Giles closed his eyes, his own pain and loss leeching through him before he pushed them back. Becoming the Slayer’s Watcher had if nothing else taught him how to ignore and minimize his own tragedies. Remembering Remus Lupin, the man had wallowed in them, his every action and thought dictated by his curse.

“You will always have my love, Harry.” It was an easy promise to give, an easy truth to speak. Harry flushed and for a moment Giles thought he saw something in his eyes, something remarkably like amused contempt before it submerged. Surely not. Harry wasn’t possessed of a wicked bone in his body, always thinking of others. He cocked his head. “That’s not why you stopped by, however, is it?”

Harry fidgeted, eyes sliding away before they determinedly landed back on him. “Not entirely. Is it true, Angel and Miss Summers are in love with each other?”

“They believe so, yes,” Giles sighed.

The younger wizard nodded, sadness sweetening his scent. “Then you will lose Riley to his father, you know that, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Giles admitted, “I fear as much as well. The only one who could come between them is the boy’s mother and I have not spoken to her in months.” He did not even have an address to write or fire call to since she had contacted him last time.

“I never even knew the Headmistress had a daughter,” Harry shook his head, “though it’s no wonder if she married Malfoy.”

“Your mother and Riley’s were the closest of friends,” Giles remembered. “Turan always did things her own way, just as Lily did, which made them a formidable pair. I am not going to let Malfoy have her son without a fight.”

Reaching into his robes Harry pulled a small object forth, proffering it with a mischievous smirk reminiscent of his father. “Then this may help.”

~*~

“This what she wanted then?” Draco drawled in a bored tone. Severus snatched the weathered piece of parchment with his usual scowl, rolling his eyes at his godson’s theatrics.

“Does it matter? Go home. Your parents want you there.” Severus waved in dismissal, already turning back to head into Hogwarts.

“You’re welcome!” Draco shouted at his back. He stomped to the edge of the apparation wards, muttering about all the indignities that had today been heaped upon his maligned person, not least of which was an ungrateful godfather. With a last contemptuous glare thrown over the entire school he disappeared.

~*~

Narcissa was waiting for him when he limped back to his rooms. Riley was angry, more at himself than Angel, but he also couldn’t deny his hurt pride. The dark vampire had done nothing to stop him leaving, from sliding his body free and escaping the bed. He’d barely given thought to snatching his robe and transfiguring it into a pair of pants, needing some scraping of dignity to make himself feel less like a whore. A look into his face must have shown everything because Narcissa’s own hardened before she hugged him tightly. “Oh my sweet one,” she cried.

“The curse is definitely ended,” he whispered, cringing at the memory of the vampire’s horrified tone.

“Did he hurt you?” Narcissa asked with imminent violence.

Just the heart I’m too stupid to take off my sleeve, Riley silently answered. “No,” he said aloud. “I’m just not feeling too hot.” He wasn’t; the pain of rough sex had settled into a growing nausea ever since he’d come through the door. He wanted to throw up, shower and then curl up in his bed with the curtains closed until his heart stopped beating out its pain.

A small palm felt his brow. “You do look pale, my sweet boy. Let’s get you into the bathroom.”

Narcissa suggested a warm bath or shower, but Riley was sick before he could take either. He vomited a blackish slime into the toilet, tears leaking from his tightly clenched eyes at the agony that tore through his mind. Something broke off inside and Riley dry heaved, suddenly feeling bereft. He had held a comfort inside, a warmth of not being alone that had so subtly taken over that he’d forgotten ever not having the security. Not until it was gone did he notice and tears leaked from his clenched eyes in grief for something he couldn’t even name.

“Here, love,” Narcissa said, pressing a cold cloth to his forehead while she flushed away the mess. “Just let your body rid itself of the remnants of Aestus’ curse.”

Riley nodded, not really listening beyond the motherly tone. The heaving thankfully settled though the chill that seemed to have settled beneath his skin persisted. He hated being cold.

“You’re cold?” she asked. Had he spoken aloud? He dumbly nodded. “This may have gone deeper than we thought. I’m going to get your father.”

She barely seemed to leave before she was back. Riley had snagged the compress from his forehead, slumping against the toilet as he tried to wipe at his mouth and chin. Ugh, he felt wretched and only seemed to be getting worse if the sharp cramping pains in his stomach were anything to go by. Had Angel and he done something wrong earlier? His want of the vampire to be there was near as painful as his gut until he remembered again the man’s horror at realizing who he was in bed with. No, Angel would not be helping him.

A strong arm lifted him away from the toilet, Lucius’ face slewing into his line of sight. “Dad,” Riley coughed, unaware of the lack in formality. “I don’t feel so hot.”

“I can see that,” Lucius said softly. There was a darkly colored potion bottle in his hand. “I have a restorative potion here I want you to drink.”

Riley did not argue, willing to swallow anything to end his torment. The concoction tasted of ashes and burnt apples; his stomach heaved in protest and he gagged. It came right back up but Lucius clamped his hand over Riley’s mouth, leaving the foul liquid no choice but to go back down. Riley’s eyes watered and his fists clenched, but he did not flinch from his father’s tight embrace, locking gazes with the older blond as his body convulsed in helpless torment. Narcissa straddled his thighs, keeping him from kicking, leaning over him in her diaphanous gown and sparkling tears.

Finally, the potion conquered his rebellious stomach. Muscles turned to jelly and he slumped against his father, eyes unable to stay open though he tenaciously clung to consciousness.

“Just relax and give it a few minutes to do its work,” Lucius said quietly into his ear. The weight lifted from his legs with a hissing of silk and then with a weight lightening spell Lucius picked him up. “I’m just going to carry you to your bed,” he explained, perhaps sensing Riley’s discomfort at being bundled up like a child. He couldn’t disagree that a soft mattress held greater appeal than the bathroom’s cold tiles. “Finite Incanteum,” Lucius said as soon as he set his son down and Riley gratefully felt his weight drop him deeper into the soft down.

“Just a few minutes longer and all this nonsense will be gone forever,” Narcissa reassured stroking back his hair as she settled at his side. “Such a mess,” she tsked. “Do you want me to fix it for you, love?”

Given that he’d never really had reason before to learn any hair charms he hummed his compliance. Everything was feeling good and fuzzy so he was happy to just drift, the gentle tugging on his hair a distant anchor to reality. The terrible, tearing ache inside was gone, the hole filled with a fount of bubbles that lifted him up to play with the frolicking dragons that circled his bed. Riley giggled, hugging the shiny green dragon that sinuously twined about him, its toothy grin stretching impossibly wide. So wide he thought the dragon could swallow him in one great gulp, its gleaming white teeth wickedly sharp, a row of fangs above familiar glowing yellow eyes.

~*~

The boy was out. Lucius gathered his son back into his arms, pulling his boneless weight onto his lap as he joined his wife on the bed. Riley moaned softly at being jostled, but didn’t wake. At Narcissa’s command Nobby appeared with a wooden chest it left on the bed at its mistress’ side before flashing back out. Drawing his wand while she sorted through the chest Lucius vanished their son’s pants, his only covering.

He swore at seeing the handprint bruises that painted large butterflies on Riley’s hips. The evidence that the vampire had not taken their son gently tightened his lips in anger. Curse or no, no one treated a Malfoy so callously and escaped unscathed. The Dark Creature would know their wrath, but first they needed to see to their son.

“We should have just slain the beast,” Narcissa hissed. They had broken the hold the vampire held over their son, a quite powerful hold by Riley’s violent illness, but now they needed to also ensure he was completely cleansed. One of the ironies of magic was that the more powerful the wizard, the more fertile they were.

From the box Narcissa laid out a long silver pipette, a lubricating cream and the potion that would kill anything that had taken root in Riley without harming their son. “Riley is soft hearted, just like his mother,” Lucius said, gently shifting their tall son to a better position over his thighs. He smoothed his palm down the fine arch of spine and over the muscled ass cheeks. “We will protect him, even from himself.”

“Just as we should have Turan,” Narcissa agreed.

~*~

Angrily jerking on his clothes Angel again cursed himself a thrice dammed fool. In typical fashion he’d reacted without thinking, opened his mouth and said possibly the worst thing to say after sex. Was it a wonder Riley had lit out of the room? He was lucky the blond hadn’t Crucioed him. Angel needed to find him, now, and confess his idiocy. The curse had ended with their consummation, but once the shroud it had draped his mind in had lifted he’d been confronted with what he’d done. With what he had forced Riley into. He needed to confess that he’d bound them together through blood and worst, that he wanted to keep the bond.

That realization had surprised him when it’d struggled its way through his cloud of guilt. It was selfish, irresponsible, undeserving, *wrong*, he could go on and had for several minutes, but he didn’t want to give Riley up. Ever. He’d never shared blood with anyone outside his clan; even with Buffy, he had taken from her without sharing of himself. It added to his guilt, but what was done was done, right? Whether through selfishness or insanity he’d claimed Riley and even if it took prostrating himself and begging he meant to keep him. Oh, he still fully intended to beat Spike bloodless for cursing them but he’d also have to thank his childe. Without that stupid mirror he’d have never met and fallen in love with the real Riley Finn.

Buttoning his slacks Angel staggered to his knees, clutching his chest at a sudden wrenching pain. The moorings of the bond he had formed with Riley were ripping free from the wizard’s end! How could this be happening? It was like having a limb cleaved away with a dull kitchen knife and his demon howled in agony even as he curled into a fetal ball, whimpering. What evil could do this? Only the demon strong enough to form the bond could sever it. This couldn’t be happening, but before he could do anything to stop it, everything from Riley’s end was gone. All that was left was the tether he had forged reaching into freezing nothingness and sending Angel spiraling after.

~*~
TBC.