Mirror, Mirror

Chapter 15.

~*~

Before Draco had gone to Hogwarts his parents had sat him down and told him the entire sordid tale involving one Turan McGonagall. They hadn’t wanted him ignorant to the reasons for the then Deputy Headmistress’ expected cold behavior towards him, even if he was forbidden of speaking of what he knew, ever. At eleven he hadn’t really appreciated the loss his parents had suffered, nor fully understood all the intricacies of emotion that bound his parents and teacher into a never ending drama of hate and resentment. Emotions that never dulled and needed only the slightest provocation to once again spill forth.

Such as the spectacle occurring in their entry hall proved. Safely out of sight of those below Draco watched, eyes darting between his parents and his . . . brother? He hadn’t made detective class at his age by being an idiot; the guy standing between his parents and McGonagall with her Aurors was obviously a Malfoy and considering the way the old crone was trying to threaten him to her side, someone she also had a vested interest in. His parents’ lost lover had given him a brother? Draco took in the figure very similar to his own and licked his lips. Daddy sure did good work. His brother had that raw boniness of a McGonagall that could be seen in the square of his jaw and the breadth of his broad shoulders, but there was an undeniable elegance to his frame that spoke of his Malfoy inheritance.

His brother stepped back towards their parents and Draco’s smirk grew. Didn’t McGonagall know, family was everything to a Malfoy? That became ever more true after his parents had chosen Moldie over their lover, but it looked like brother dearest was forgiving them that slip up.

“No! Cygnus, whatever they have told you, it is all lies. You. Are. A. McGonagall. You do not have to accept their terms. Don’t make this stupid mistake!” McGonagall screeched.

“You never wanted me, Nana, so just let me go to the family that does.”

Cygnus. Draco rolled the name around his tongue. He could honestly say he’d never been seized with a desire for a sibling like some single children did, but he was not averse to the idea of a brother . . . so long as he understood his place. Whether older or not, his brother would learn Draco was the Malfoy heir and that he, like everyone else in his circle, including their parents, belonged to Draco. The slimmer blond’s greedy little heart swelled to think of how he could get his beautiful brother to dote on him, to readily bare himself to Draco’s every whim. Yes, Draco was supremely confident he could succeed where his father failed. He would have Ron and Cygnus and he would rule –

“Draco?” An irritated, sleep heavy voice mumbled behind him. “What’s going on? Where the bloody hell are we and why are you grinning at me like that? Are you nutters? Figures, I get hexed and you go around the bend. Come here and I’ll knock you back to sorts. Won’t hurt a bit but for the throbbing agony of my foot up your arse.” Even barely able to stand without the support of the wall Ron cheekily grinned, as oblivious as ever of the frustrated passion that flared in his partner’s eyes at the sight of him.

So his plan needed a little work.

“Ron? Draco?” Both Aurors turned to see Harry standing behind them, though in Ron’s in case it was more of a shoulder rolling against the wall. “Percy thought he heard you about. Did you find anything about the mirror? We know it’s the Mirror of Aestus, but it would be good to make sure there’s no tampering to it that’s going to come back around to bite us.”

While Potter blathered on Draco watched his partner with a growing confliction of ire and horror. Ron had snapped to at first hearing his old chum, then blushed an interesting shade of red. He was barely facing Potter’s way now, chocolate orbs wandering everywhere but on Scarhead’s person. Who seemed remarkably aware of the inattention given his usual obtuse stupidity and so made up for it by talking all the quicker.

Draco hadn’t been trying to seduce his partner without learning his every tell and a ten year old in the school yard could read Potter right now. How dare Potter have a crush on his Weasel! Didn’t he have his own? Though . . . and Draco’s Slytherin mind twisted agilely about, new plans spawning as old schemes were blithely cast away.

“Harry, Harry,” Draco said, smoothly interrupting the flow of nonsense. “Your instructions are right here.” He may have given McGonagall the original and his father a copy, but he certainly hadn’t made only one. Stepping in close he handed the brunette a folded slip of paper, making sure their fingers brushed. When Po-Harry’s thin fingers caught at the parchment Draco curled his hand within his own, drawing the man closer. Green eyes widened, but he just smiled. “Forgive Ron,” he said softly, intimately. “Took a strong hit earlier. Still a bit out of it, yeah?”

Potter was clearly unnerved by the solicitous behavior, but still seemed to take comfort in the words. “He alright then?”

“As right as he ever is with that thick head.” He winked conspiratorially and silently crowed when Harry grinned back. Draco would give it to him, Harry was a handsome bloke and the blond covertly took a quick perusal. Good height, lean build and those eyes added whole new pornographic depths to ‘bewitching’. He’d even heard rumors that during the brunette’s disappearance he’d picked up a few tattoos, among other embellishments. Shagging the hero turned teacher would be no hardship.

Especially if it got him Ron.

Still holding Harry’s ink blotched hand, ‘absently’ rubbing circles into the surprisingly soft skin, Draco half turned to smirk at his partner. Ron, shyness forgotten, was glaring hotly at them. “You are recovered, are you not, Ron?” Before the redhead could answer he turned back to Harry. “Say, you’ve never been to this old pile of rocks before, have you? What say I give the sickle tour?”

“I’m sure Harry doesn’t give a hippogriff’s ass about seeing how many tea rooms this place has!” Ron growled, pushing off the wall to crowd against Harry’s side.

“Ron!” Harry had been a teacher long enough that the admonishment came automatically at the foul language.

“Oh, I was thinking more of showing Harry the manor’s two hundred bedrooms,” Draco leered, challenge clear in his eyes for Ron to see. He wondered if Harry saw it as well as his eyebrows shot up and his jaw fell slack.

“Wha-“

Ron’s finger tipped Harry’s mouth shut on his sputtering confusion, his freckled hand clamping around pale and tan. “Not without me you’re not,” he growled into Draco’s face.

Draco smiled. Neither Auror saw Harry’s eyes deepen, something unimaginable to their innocent lives flashing before his mask of befuddlement settled back into place.

~*~

Nana and the Aurors left. Now it was time for everyone else to leave as well. His parents had vanished to do just that, confident Riley would not move from the armchair they’d settled him in, once more back in Lucius’ study. There was no reason he could think to move so he stayed, absently staring about. The room was very quiet, but the detached young man curled in its most comfortable chair did not notice. His grey eyes glazed, a doll waiting for its owners to come back and continue their play.

Something gently stroked his hair. Riley couldn’t get his eyes to focus, but he felt the whisper of feeling across his face and chest. A breathy sound tickled his ears. When the feather reached his right hand he barely noted the deeper breath that filled his lungs, but by the second and then the third his surroundings were surging back into focus.

“-ey? Come on, snap out of it. Riley?” The stinging of his cheek roused Riley as much as the fear in the voice calling for him. Blinking his eyes open the groggy blond stared blankly for a moment until the blur in front of him solidified.

“B-Buffy,” he coughed, blearily glancing about. How had she gotten here?

His ex-girlfriend smiled grimly. “Your shiny new parental unit was all gung-ho to boot us out the door but Angel and Giles are MIA so I slipped out to find you all. Giles was in the library,” she grimaced, “where else, and I’ve found you here making like the sleeping dead.” The emerald ring glinted in her hand when she held it aloft. “Where did you get this ‘cause you didn’t start to hear me until I took it off.”

The ring? His clothes were mussed, his shirt torn open and half hanging off one shoulder; he looked like he’d been practically molested. He had, but he suspected Slayer paranoia and too much experience with possessed objects rather than lust had fueled Buffy’s strength. He couldn’t remember the ring affecting him, but that wouldn’t be surprising. Of course, even if the ring was charmed his reaction to it could be adverse. It didn’t mean anything beyond a sensitivity to its magic.

“Who gave this to you?” Buffy demanded.

Riley shook his head. The last thing he needed was a Slayer on the hunt. “It doesn’t matter right now.” He could feel his old wariness battling with his desperate want to trust his parents. Mother was always lecturing that he was to trust no one save her, to listen to no one save her. He wanted Lucius and Narcissa to be the exceptions to those rules. “Are you ready to leave?” He asked, hoping to distract Buffy from the scent.

“I’m not sure.” Her eyes danced away, teeth worrying her bottom lip. “Are you coming with?”

“Not yet. This might be my only chance to know my father.” To know if there was anything truly here for him. His parents didn’t know him beyond the entanglement of that damn curse and he didn’t know them by more than their actions of the last day. Hardly fair judgment since not everyone shined their brightest when disaster struck, not the way Buffy did. It was what he loved and hated most about her. If the world needed saving, she was your girl, but she was horrible at the ordinary, everyday things that made up most people’s lives, his included. He reached out, smoothing down a few mussed honey colored strands. Buffy almost shied and caught herself too late, guiltily wincing when Riley jerked his hand back into his lap.

Green eyes, dark with emotion, resolutely lifted to his own. “Riley, I know the timing of this sucks, but if you’re staying then now it has to be.” She took a deep breath, but shook her head when Riley opened his mouth. “No, I need to say this before you say anything to change my mind.”

Riley didn’t know what could be so important that she couldn’t have said earlier when she broke up with him, but maybe she’d found a few more bones she wanted to pick at. Their break up was his fault so he nodded, resigned to enduring whatever final blows she wanted to deliver.

“You’ve lied to me,” she said quietly, the shaking in her voice barely noticeable but there. “I know I kept being the Slayer a secret but that’s only part of who I am. You lied about what you are. It’s been like finding out you’re really from Mars and all those odd quirks I thought were cute? Alien!

“But more than that, you’ve never shared any part of your self. I told you about my Dad and you’ve been there when my Mom was sick, but you never told me you grew up with a single parent. You haven’t trusted any part of your self with me.” She was crying now, quietly in that way she had that made it all the worse to watch, but still soldiered on, gaze determined and so very hurt. “I think we both know this isn’t working.”

She was breaking up with him?

Hadn’t they already done this?

Riley blinked, confused and feeling the first cold stirrings from the yawning chasm of betrayal opening wider beneath him. First Angel and now his parents? It was not lost on him that what Buffy accused him of denying her, he had shared with Angel. Who at the first opportunity had rejected him. Just as Buffy was now and who could blame her? He hadn’t shared of himself with her, not in any way beyond sex. Yes, Giles hadn’t trusted her either, but then, Giles wasn’t sleeping with her. He hadn’t trusted her with his secrets, but it was no justification for using her the way he had. Maybe he really was alone in all this and deserved to be, if Buffy’s words were true. “I’m sorry, Buffy,” he whispered, saying it automatically, mind reeling between self-incrimination and suffocating despair.

She stared at him hard, but finally nodded. “Thank you. I know you mean it.” She stood up, dropping the ring with a clunk onto the nearest table. “Take care of yourself and if you need my help, pick up a phone. Mr. Potter has offered to teach me some things so I might see you around. Good luck with your Dad.”

Buffy was acting the bigger woman and Riley numbly let her go about it. He was even distantly proud of the maturity she was showing, walking out of the room with her head held high. It was more than he could do at the moment.

So which one of his parents had orchestrated the break up with him in the solar earlier? There were numerous spells that a wizard could use to impersonate another. Some could last hours or longer, like Pollyjuice, others but minutes. Almost all were considered Dark magic. Anyone could have pretended to be Buffy; he didn’t really know any of the wizards he had met, but it had to been ultimately at his parents’ direction. It was them who had objected to him dating a Muggle. And Narcissa had conveniently appeared right after to wipe his tears and sink her claws deeper into his heart.

It could all be coincidence, a hopeful voice argued weakly from beneath his mother’s renewed training. Narcissa had suggested killing Angel so why would she have cared if Riley’s conscience was clear to sleep with the vampire? At the time that he’d “broken up” with Buffy, a voice fired back that sounded remarkably like his mother’s, they still hadn’t known the life of the curse. He could have been bound to Angel for eternity. Narcissa had seized the opportunity to hedge her bets.

And then there was the ring. Riley craned his neck to look at it, Turan’s ferocity that she had deliberately borne into her son wanting nothing more than to obliterate the thing. The ring’s magic could be too strong for his mind, but Riley didn’t think so. It was the excuse the Malfoys would feed him, but he knew it had worked exactly as intended. To make him a puppet. The betrayal made him physically ill and he choked on bile, struggling not to throw up.

He needed out of here. Perhaps it was time to return to his mother. He’d stayed in Sunnydale to try and help fix the mess the Initiative was making, but had he really been doing any good, been of any help at all? His career as an Auror was over and it was time he accepted there could be no salvaging of it. He’d cut his ties to his grandmother, rejected the McGonagall name, but if he explained things to mother? Maybe she’d finally swallow some of her pride and contact Nana, mend the bridges he had burned. Maybe something good to come from this after all.

Decision made Riley jumped to his feet and padded out of the room. His ears fair twitched straining to hear any noise that would reveal his escape was compromised, but everything was quiet. Just a few steps down the hall he found a large enough window overlooking a stone garden four stories below. Perfect. A burst of magic opened the glass shutters and he nimbly hopped up onto the windowsill. It was full dark out, the evening’s breeze curling around his lean figure, inviting. There were wards about the grounds that would alert the Malfoys when he tried to leave, he was certain of that, but they didn’t know all his secrets. None of them knew what he truly was.

Without any further hesitation, he leapt.

~*~

TBC

Final chapter next!