Perpetual Mirages

***

"Everyday it's something, hits me all so cold"

-- "No Excuses," Alice in Chains

"Do you really plan on killing me, Alice?" a cold voice drawled from the body of a lean man with silver hair and penetrating silver eyes. He stared at his opponent, a chubby, bubbly woman whose senses of exuberance had been drained from her face as she stared him down.

Her usually warm, chocolate eyes flashed. "Crouch's old law of Aurors killing Death Eaters has yet to be vetoed," she snarled. "And I tend to abide by the law, Deron."

The man called Deron took a step back and threw a quick glance behind him to a woman who looked just like him. "Fine," he said. "You can kill me, but would you really kill Leda too? I mean, Vivian needs one parent at least."

"No, I do not intend to kill Leda," Alice said. Without warning, she had her hand grasping her foe's neck. "I intend to let Frank do it." Deron seized her arm and twisted it behind her back and attempted to kick her to temporarily paralyze her. She was too quick for him, despite her frame, and reversed the move and now had him in eye of her wand.

Deron let out a soft rumble, which turned into a chuckle. "Your bravado is to be admired," Alice still kept her arm up, never wavering with her wand.

"Give me a reason, Deron. Give me a reason and I swear, I'll kill you in cold blood."

He didn't respond. "But why would you want to kill me?" His voice dropped to a patronizing mock tone. "Wouldn't that automatically stoop you down to my level?"

"After all the people you tortured and murdered? I doubt I shall get anything less then a parade once I've done you in." Alice still had her wand at the ready, waiting for him to even breathe funny so she had excuse to say the killing curse, to just destroy him like a piece of dung on the bottom of her shoes...

Deron took another step back, Alice took another step forward. "I daresay you shall meet a very dark path, someday, Alice Longbottom," he sneered.

"And I daresay you shall be meeting that dark end right now," she shouted. "Avada Kedavra!" And Deron Malfoy fell over, dead.

Leda Malfoy let out a horrific scream as she saw her husband crumple to the ground. Then she turned to face Frank Longbottom. "Going to do me in as well? Leave my daughter to be an orphan?"

"Better an orphan than having parents like you," Frank spat.

She discreetly drew her wand out. "I might die," she began, "but I might not." She paused. "I'm going to avenge my husband. Crucio!" she bellowed, and Frank toppled over as rips of pain sped through his body.

Leda gave out an evil laugh and watched as he struggled to his feet. "You have no idea what you're up against, Longbottom! Cruc--" She was cut off in mid sentence by Alice pushing her to the ground and hurling her wand twenty feet away.

"Neither do you, Leda. Avada Kedavra!"

Six-year old Vivian Malfoy awoke with a start.

February 1986

The young girl tiptoed down the long hallway, avoiding the spots where dentations made a slight creak. Her white nightgown brushed against her bare feet, her shimmering platinum hair glowing in the darkness. Reaching the door she wanted, she slowly opened it.

"Draco," she whispered. She entered the room now, and sluggishly pulled the covers off of her cousin, who had been sleeping so soundly, it had almost been painful to wake him.

Her cousin mumbled some incoherent things, and rolled over. "Wake up," she hissed, tickling his back. This woke him up. He started to giggle loudly. He abruptly stopped when he saw who it had been that had woken him up.

"Oh. It's you," he said, slamming his head back into the pillows.

She rolled her eyes and clutched the teddy bear she was carrying close to her chest. "Yes. I had another dream about my parents. Can I sleep with you?" She pouted a bit, giving herself the illusion of a double chin and full cheeks. Sighing, her cousin made room for her on his bed.

"Honestly, Vivian. You should tell my Mum or dad about those dreams. Maybe they could help."

"You know they won't. They're going to say the same things they always say. 'You're a Seer and--'"

"'Embrace your gift,'"

The two six-year olds laid on the bed in silence. It had started to rain in the time of the cousin's exchange, and while both had their eyes closed, neither of them could find the strength to go to sleep. "Draco," Vivian said suddenly, her eyes still closed.

"Hm?"

"Do you know anything about my parents?"

Draco opened his eyes. "Why are you asking me? You're the Seer," he yawned, and retrieved his blanket from the end of his bed and covered him and his company.

"I can only see the past and future. I can't see personalities or anything like that. I'm sure you heard your father talking about them once, I just know it."

He groaned. At this rate, he was never going to get back to sleep. He racked his brain for information on his dead aunt and uncle, even a little bit of it made up so his cousin could shut up and he could get some rest.

"My father and your father were brothers. Your parents were Death Eaters and they were killed by Aurors."

Vivian scratched her hand and hitched the teddy bear up by her shoulders. "You just told me everything that I dreamed about." She paused. "What's a Voldemort?"

This made Draco sit up. The name brought the hairs on his arms and neck to rise.

"What?"

"Voldemort. I heard your dad talking about him the other day."

Draco chewed at his lip from the inside. "He's evil and I don't like to talk about him."

"I know the word Death Eater, but I don't know what they do."

He grimaced again. Would his cousin ever shut up? She could easily ask for this information from his father or mother, but no. It was him she had to prod. It was always him. "Death Eaters serve Vol--That evil guy."

Vivian gasped. "Were my parents evil? The people that, that killed them didn't seem to like them very much, though."

Were Vivian's parents evil? Draco didn't know, he had never met them. But they had served Voldemort. Then again, his own father served Voldemort and he wasn't evil, was he? "I don't think your parents were evil. By the way, they're Aurors."

"What?"

"The people that killed your parents are called Aurors."

Vivian's eyes dropped to her pillow. "I hate Aurors." She rolled over onto her side. "Good night, Draco."

"Good night, Vivian."

The next morning, Draco woke first and had to maneuver himself cleverly around his cousin if he didn't want to step on her when he got out of bed. He shuffled down the stairs to breakfast, where his mother was already pouring his father a second cup of tea.

"Good morning, Draco," Lucius said brusquely. "Where's Vivian? You two know very well we like to eat breakfast as a family--"

With that, pounding rhythmic beats began to come from the stairs. "I'm here, Uncle Lucius," Vivian said in a small voice, taking a seat next to Draco. Lucius eyed her carefully as she took a piece of toast from the bread basket and struggled to butter it.

"Oh, give it here," Lucius snapped. He buttered her toast in two swift movements. With a tiny mention of her gratitude, Vivian had began to daintily eat the toast, though she was starving.

Uncle Lucius did not like impolite ladies.

Narcissa set down various plates at the various people at the table and then situated herself at the other end of the table, facing her husband. "Did you all sleep well?" Lucius asked, talking like he was having a conversation with preppy Pureblood teenagers rather then two six-year olds.

"Yes, Father," Draco said, smoothly glossing over the fact that he didn't sleep well. He paused and shot a sideways glance towards his cousin, who never took her eyes off the floor. "Actually, no, Father. Vivian came to ask if she could stay with me."

Vivian's eyes widened and she dropped the piece of bacon from her usually nimble fingers. She kicked Draco under the table. "Really?" Lucius asked, rounding on his niece. "What was the matter?"

She blinked her gray eyes rapidly for a couple of moments and then squeaked, "I...had a nightmare. About my parents."

Narcissa shot Lucius a look, very confident that neither of the children saw it. "Can't you make the dreams stop?" Vivian asked. "I don't want to see my parents dying every time I close my eyes." She tried to sound assertive, but her voice came out shaky and scared.

"Honey," Narcissa began, "maybe we can take you to St. Mungo's. I'm sure some Healers can charm the mind or something so that you don't see--"

"Absolutely not," Lucius said at once, his voice cold as ice. "That is rubbish. Vivian's a Seer and should embrace her gift."

Draco heard this entire exchange, but kept his eyes down low the whole time, not wanting to look at his father, for fear he might lash at him, not wanting to look at his cousin, for fear she might erupt into tears onto his shoulder, and not wanting to look at his mother because she wasn't looking at him, she was looking at Lucius.

"Lucius, if the child has frightening images...She's so young. We could always get the charm removed once she reaches a certain age." Narcissa tried to tread lightly, but her husband had a cannon ball temper.

He shot an icy glance at his son and niece. "Vivian, Draco, please leave the table."

Draco and Vivian didn't need to be told twice. They promptly pushed their plates aside to the middle of the table and ran up the stairs as if they were being chased by dementors. "I've never seen your father that angry," Vivian breathed once they were safely behind the door of Draco's room.

"I have," Draco whispered. He shuddered, as if the mere memory of his father's outburst was too horrific to think about.

Vivian pressed her ear to the closed door. "Listen," she said. "You could almost make out what they're talking about...They're talking about me..." Sure enough, the only clear word they could make out was 'Vivian.'

"This really isn't fair," she whined. "I should be down there, letting them know how I feel. This is about me, after all."

Draco blinked. "You're a Malfoy. Nothing's fair."

She stared at him, searching for the most smart reply her young mind could find her, but in the end she settled for silence. She turned her attention back to the door. "They stopped talking." She closed her eyes as that would make her hearing any better and then sighed. "Your father went to work."

Her cousin began to push his toys and whatnot under the bed. "Maybe he has a reason."

"A reason for what?"

Now he began to open the door, as to lead her out of his room. "Maybe my father's got a reason for you to keep the visions." He pointed to the hallway. "Now, if you don't mind, I want to change out of my pajamas and into my robes. Mother's taking us to Diagon Alley today."

Vivian stepped outside the threshold of the door. "But if he's got reasons, couldn't he just tell me why--?"

But she was talking to a closed door.

An hour or so later, Narcissa had exchanged her nightwear and up-do for witch's robes and let her hair, the exact color and texture of Draco's and Vivian's, hang loose around her shoulders. Vivian had always thought her aunt was beautiful, but there was a gray cloud that hung over her, like a constant thunderstorm.

"Floo Powder," Narcissa said, gracefully moving a hand towards the fire place.

Narcissa gently nudged her son into the fireplace. "You first, dear. Speak very clearly, otherwise you'll wind up in God-Knows-Where."

It was obvious truth that 'God-Knows-Where' meant the dredges of Knockturn Alley. Lucius went there frequently, and it was only a matter of time before he brought Draco with him, but Narcissa was trying to prevent that from happening for as long as she could.

Draco took a generous amount of Floo powder and bellowed, "DIAGON ALLEY!" and deposited the ashes into the fire place. In a burst of green flame, he was gone.

Vivian did the same.

She was falling, her stomach had long since left her body, her other organs were a tangled mass. She was sliding, sliding...She landed on her bottom, right into the Leaky Cauldron. Draco had already steadied himself, rubbing his behind. Narcissa came swooping in, narrowly missing Vivian's head with her feet.

Tom, the bartender, cocked his head and then dodged quickly behind the table when he saw the forms of three unmistakable Malfoys. Narcissa got to her feet and brushed ash off her black clothing. "No, Tom," her syrupy voice rang out. "Lucius isn't here. It's just me and the children."

The bartender shot a suspicious glance at them, and then showed himself in full view. "How are you, Narcissa?" he mumbled.

"Just fine, thanks. Taking the children for some light shopping." Noting his embarrassment, Narcissa quickly said, "alright, kids, watch your step."

Diagon Alley was shining brightly, bustling all over with witches and wizards who needed a new robe, a new pet, new potion materials...On the alleyway between Quality Quidditch Supplies and Ollivander's, Draco spotted a family with vibrant, bright red hair.

There was a woman, who one might assume was the mother. She was walking with two boys, a couple of years older then Vivian and Draco, who looked exactly alike. Twins, thought Vivian, as she turned her attention to a boy who looked around her age, and his sister, who looked a drop younger.

"Narcissa," said the woman coldly as she approached.

"Molly," replied Narcissa in the same brisk tone.

Vivian stared at the boy, ignoring the girl and the twins. He was staring back at her, but not really looking. Now that she stared at him, she couldn't believe how fiery red his hair really was. Freckles sprinkled the area between his eyes and nose, and his eyes were squinted, trying to decipher the exchange between his mother and that other woman.

"Damn Weasleys," Narcissa muttered once the family of redheads was out of sight. "How they could even afford to come to Diagon Alley..." Her voice trailed off once she saw the youngsters staring at her. "Ahem. You two, let's go to the Apothecary so I can stock up on some supplies."

She led them to the store, whose smell was so ghastly that both children started to cough immediately. "I think you two better stay outside. Don't go off anywhere, I'll never be able to find you."

"What's a Weasley?" Vivian asked once they were safely back in the windy atmosphere.

Draco's eyes narrowed. "Another Wizarding family. Not like the Malfoys, of course."

"Why not?"

He deeply exhaled, wondering why the hell his cousin, who looked so much like him, could be so uneducated and different. "Because," he almost whined, "they're poor and obsessed with Muggles."

Vivian screwed up her face into a quizzical expression. "What's a Muggle?"

"Gosh, Vivian, you really are dumb," he said. "A Muggle is a person who isn't magic. I can't think of anything worse then being a Muggle, except maybe being a Mudblood." He paused. "Wait, I know what you're going to ask next. What's a Mudblood, right?"

She nodded.

"A Mudblood is a witch or a wizard who comes from Muggle parents. Disgrace, really. Father hates them and so do I."

Vivian cocked her head to the side. "Strange, isn't it? How can you be a witch or a wizard if you're parents are those--things that aren't magic?"

"Do you know what a Squib is?"

She shook her head.

"A Squib is someone whose got magic folk for parents, but are non-magic themselves."

He paused. "Sometimes things just happen, and you really don't know why they happen."

Vivian was trying to think of a clever reply to that, but just as she opened her mouth, Narcissa came out of the Apothecary with a tightly closed bag. "Ah, there you are, good show. Shall we continue shopping?"

Draco nodded to his mother, and then gave Vivian a look, as to reinforce his wise statement.

Sometimes things just happen, and you really don't know why they happen.

She didn't know it just yet, but that phrase might have very well been the motto for her adult life.

Vivian was rather quiet at dinner, avoiding glances and questions so she wouldn't cause another outburst at mealtime. There was small talk conversations; how was your day?, and such. Draco kept sneaking surreptitious glances at his cousin, but she chose not to return them.

"Want to play Quidditch?" He asked her after supper.

She shook her head. "No."

"Why? I'll let you win, I promise," he shot her a cute smile.

She shrugged. "Don't want to."

"What's your problem?" He asked, rather nastily.

She blinked a couple of times. "I don't have a problem, Draco."

"I think you do."

"Oh yeah? Then what is it?"

He licked his lips quickly. "Heard my father say it. 'She's too naïve about the world and about her parents. One day, she's going to grow up to be bitter and cold-hearted, to lash back on the world for what it did to her.'"

Vivian felt like the words were buckets of ice being splashed repeatedly on her. If not that, then the words were a red-hot ironed hand, that had slapped her across the face. "Am not," she practically spat, wishing she were older so she could have came up with a more intelligent response.

Draco just shrugged, as if to say, "as you wish." Then he went outside to the back for a ride on his broomstick, a swift Shooting Star.

Vivian stalked up the stairs into her own bedroom, for a change, and slammed the door so hard she thought she might have shattered the frame. "Am not," she said again, crawling into bed. "You'll see, Draco Malfoy."