Lies

There was a shifting pattern of light on the floor, delicate crystal shards melding with opaque splinters to form a mirror that reflected a distorted figure at whoever looked into it. The mirage was formed by the stained-glass window of white and turquoise and final, unexplainable blackness.

The shadows blended, showing a boy with pale skin and dark hair and eyes that had seen too much and only wanted one thing in the world, and it was unreachable.

His crystal tears shone like spun glass in the moonlight that streamed through the window and broke into a million tiny pieces on his body. The cuts bled pale purple sunlight onto the moss-covered floor as the boy watched with fathomless eyes.

His voice, when it came, was broken like a child's toy after the infant has grown tired of it, splintered and faded like cloth in the sunlight.

"I died."

His eyes show pure confusion as he struggles to talk, each word falling heavily over his lips and breaking on the floor.

"I was alive. No, I am alive, but I died"

The second voice comes out of nowhere, sliding through the air like honey, thick and smooth and sweet and tangy all at the same time, only honey isn't black, and the voice is.

"Did you?"

Now the first boy is scared, having thought he was alone. He turns, looking up in shock toward the veiled scars as they shine down to him. The birds whisper into his ears, softly buzzing words of advice but he can't hear them, and searches the shadows wildly.

"Yes. No, I was alive, but not really."

The voice comes again, the buzzing of a thousand hornets, the minute feeling of danger as he realizes that the voice is everywhere, and he cannot escape from his prison.

"Perhaps you were never really there. Perhaps you have been living in lies."

Now he is more confused then ever. He must agree with this voice, like one must run from danger, but the shadows are wrapping around him and anchoring him firmly to the dreams which swirl in the room, floating by.

"I...I don't know"

He has lost track of the time that he has been imprisoned in this tiny space, making a home out of desires and delusions. He struggles to think, to break past this web encircling him but he can't, and the darkness looms up in savage delight, keeping its prize.

"Fight it."

Now the voices are many, female male, human, non-human, all telling him to fight and to break free but he just sinks further down, crouching in upon himself and desperately trying to stop the voices but he can't.

And then, like a ray of black moonlight in the deserts oppressive heat there is the cold voice like honey, instructing him.

"Fight it. I'm here, I always will be."

His voice quivers like a baby bird just out of the nest as he frantically hides tears, and asks;

"Will you?"

And the darkness gives up its burden with a scream of discontent as Harry frees himself from the man-made hell and suddenly he is looking at a familiar blonde face in front of him and Draco is smirking and the hatred is gone, erased in a rush of heat and the lips find each other and they are alone, and nothing else matters because, well-

-the lie is finally over.