Perpetual Mirages

***

"You don't remember me, but I remember you,"

-- "Taking Over Me," by Evanescence

August 2001

Diagon Alley looked different at night. Perhaps it was missing the usual screaming children, the complaining witches, and the aggravated wizards, but whatever it was, it covered the atmosphere like a thick, smoldry fog. The platinum-haired woman seemed to just disappear out of thin air into the murky streets.

Glancing up at the end of the road, she nodded to herself and quickened her pace. The Leaky Cauldron looked the same as it had been the last time she'd seen it, some eleven years ago. Despite the late hour, the bartender was still up and about, re-arranging tablecloths.

"Tom," she said slowly, remembering, savoring the name. He wasn't a significant person in her life, but he was minor key to the past. Inching closer to the door, she could see him through the windows, and her reflection as well. Her hair was blown out of proportion from the wind, her eyes were etched with sleep deprivation lines, her lipstick that made her lips garnet like her nails was lumpy and uneven.

The bartender, humming a tune to himself as he set napkins and cutlery on the tables now, threw a quick glance to the outside world and stopped short in his tracks when he spotted the young woman that was rooted to the spot right outside the door.

Opening the entryway, he stared her down, hard and trite. "Sorry, Miss, but we're closed. Do you know what time it is?" The woman strode in through the tiny crack and sat herself down at the nearest table. Tom sputtered incoherent phrases and clauses to himself.

"Are you lost, Miss? I thought I told you that we're closed, I--" Eyes falling upon masses of silver hair and irises, and an acerbic, cold expression. Tom's jaw would have completely fallen off his face if it hadn't been hinged on. "Vivian? Vivian Malfoy?"

The woman sitting in the old, wooden chair shifted her weight uncomfortably. "I don't know what you're talking about," she mumbled, using her thumb and index finger to massage tiny sections of her neck.

"Don't bullshit me," Tom said, with something of a laugh in his tone, "there is no mistaken that hair and those eyes. You're Vivian Malfoy."

Vivian forced a wry laugh and wiped a greasy strand of her hair from her eye. "Oh, no," she said, now scratching her neck, "I do believe you're mistaken."

"No, I don't think so," he said, stroking the gray stubble on his chin. "I'd swear it in front of the Minister of Magic." He cocked his head to the side. "You have Deron's facial expressions, but your eyes and mouth are definitely Leda's."

Involuntarily touching her eyes and lips, she said skeptically, "you knew my parents?"

"Who didn't?" Tom said, which he thought was an answer that would suffice Vivian. At that, her eyes flashed angrily, and he knew he'd struck a big chord. He gulped as quietly as he could, because a Malfoy is someone you did not want to get on the bad side on. Especially a Malfoy with Merdoc blood.

"For all the wrong reasons," she replied, shooting him daggers.

The silence was palpable. Tom went back to rearranging the tablecloths, and willed himself not to look at the girl, although she cleared her throat several times to get his attention. "I would like something to drink," she said to his back.

At this, he turned around. "Gillywater?"

"I was thinking something stronger. More along the lines of Fire Whiskey." Tom nodded at this request, and scurried behind the counter, whipping out a glass and a long, black bottle. Coming around the counter and handing it to her, she nodded her thanks and took a long sip. It burned on the way down, and she fought the urge to cough.

Tom smiled sardonically. "Not much of a drinker, are you?" he asked.

"On the contrary," she hummed, now gulping the alcohol. Downing the last bit of it, she got something of a brain freeze, and clutched her cranium in pain. "When you've had the life that I've had, you can't help but get addicted to a liquid comfort, you know what I'm saying?"

The bartender nodded slowly. "You're going to get yourself in a whole lot of trouble living the rest of your life with a bottle in your hand." he said wisely.

"This is coming from a bartender," she mumbled. "Practice what you preach, eh old man?" She sipped a bit more, grimacing again as she did so. "Nevertheless, I never did care much for Fire Whiskey."

Tom turned to his back to her again. "Well, then why do you drink it?" he asked, though from being around people like her too often, he knew the answer immediately.

Vivian gave a slight snort and licked her already chapped lips. "It helps," she said simply.

"Helps what?" Tom asked, even though, again, he knew the answer.

She didn't answer. Instead, she finished the last of her beverage and gingerly stood up. "You wouldn't happen to have a room for me to stay the night, would you?"

He nodded, and finally put down his dishrag. He led her up he rackety wooden steps, and on a door on the right hand side, labeled "14." Opening the door, she was led to a bed, night table, mirror, and bathroom. "This will have to do," Tom said apologetically.

"I guess so," she sighed, exasperated. He eyed her empty hands.

"Where are your bags?"

"I didn't know I was supposed to bring any. No, don't worry about me. Living large on the high road...I suppose, for a while, anyway." She plopped down on the creaky bed. "Thanks, Tom."

He sighed and shook his head. "Good night, Miss Malfoy."

***

Forty seven miles to the west, another Malfoy was just settling down to sleep. He was dressed in loose trousers, hair tousled so sloppily, but he didn't really give a shit. Because right now, all he wanted to do was get some sleep.

"What's the matter?" Came the voice that was also occupying the bed. Draco shot a look at Harry and shrugged. Harry nodded his head. "Vivian, again, huh? Let it go, man. How many years ago did it happen?"

Draco clenched his tight muscles on his abdomen. "It doesn't matter if it was last month or last decade. It's like a permanent scar, losing someone. I don't believe you'd know about it."

Harry gave a distinct cough, which sounded a lot like 'Sirius, my parents...' Draco gave a sympathetic smile. "Sorry. I...I'm an asshole."

To which the Boy-Who-Lived nodded and said solemnly, "yes, yes you are." To finalize his point, he flicked off the light and turned over, leaving Draco with a gloom choice: stand in the darkness, in the shadows like he'd been doing his whole life, or try to force himself to get some rest.

Choosing the latter, Draco crawled into the bed and sighed as quietly as he could.

***

Vivian couldn't sleep, but she was used to that. All of those times of hard, wired, drunken nights in her teens sort of made her immune to the sandman's visits. While her eyes drooped, her mind raced and all she could think about was her reentrance into the world she'd left behind.

The Mirror in her bedroom sighed, showing her an exasperated reflection of herself. "Honestly, woman, can't you go to sleep? It's quite unnerving to see you lying there, like a corpse."

"Sorry." Now Vivian sat up, staring at herself. "I don't do the whole play in the day, rest in the night sort of thing. I'm nocturnal." She felt odd, explaining herself to a mirror.

The looking glass sighed and started to fiddle with its hair. "Ah. So you sleep when the sun is up and about?" Vivian gave her a weird sort of look and laid back down on the bed, her hair cascading across the fluffy, white pillows.

"Uh, I don't do the sleep thing period."

"But surely, you must get tired and rundown at some point."

"I've resisted it so long I've forgotten what it was like to be tired, to desire sleep above anything else. Am I pathetic?"

"No, just really tragic."

Vivian let those words take her through the rest of the night. Just really tragic...She didn't know what was so 'tragic' about her life, really. Yes, she was orphaned long before she had first memories, but a lot of other people were orphaned too. Like Harry Potter. She was a runaway, but then again, she debated herself, lots of other people run away too, but they do it because they have to, because they need to.

I'm not really that pathetic, she thinks to herself, before she's afraid she gives into sleep, the enemy. The enemy that makes her see things she never wanted to see, tries to forget. Remembering every bottle she's ever drunk and every guy she's ever invited into her bed, she finally gives into the enemy.

***

The next morning, both cousins rise an hour apart from each other. Draco is always up before Harry, always, and Vivian always awakes before the sun is shining, if she really did go to sleep, before the alarm clocks have gone off, before anyone else has settled.

Today's the day.

Pretty sure she's awake before Tom, she slips down, in the same clothing as yesterday, into the bar, and is flabbergasted to see Tom and--customers. Running back up the stairs, she threw herself back into the room. She didn't realize that Tom opened so early and had people coming to drink.

"Who drinks this fucking early in the morning?" she asked out loud. Then, she stopped herself. "I do. Sometimes. FUCK." Rushing to the mirror, she tapped the glass to wake her reflection up.

The reflection yawned and rubbed her eyes. "Ah, got some sleep I see. How may I help you? You look fine, just a bit of eye crud in the corner of the left eye. Yes, that's it, right there. Now, what do you want?"

"Make me look different."

"What?"

Vivian bit her lip and grabbed the mirror by the rim. "There is a whole bunch of drunken customers downstairs who will notice me. The only person who knows who I am is Tom, and even that is too much. Please help me. Please?"

The reflection picked at her nail. "Ah, ah. You are too self-centered that you think everyone is going to notice you as soon as you enter the door. No, I'm not changing our appearance. You go at there and ignore them and keep your head high."

"...I am a Merdoc-Malfoy. We do not ignore people. We are the instigators." Vivian seriously thought about breaking that blasted mirror, but decided against it. Muttering incoherent curses under her breath, she flung the door open and descended for the stairs.

She discreetly entered the bar, and took a seat by the very end. Glancing quickly at the customers - middle-aged, uptight - she noticed that someone was staring at her, mentally examining her. She shifted her weight around the seat. Keeping her eyes down - don't look up, don't seem too curious - she grabbed the first thing she could, which was a dirty, empty glass.

And yet, still, she can feel those eyes.

Severus Snape sipped his glass as he watched the young woman self-consciously fiddle with her hair.

***

"Shit," he muttered. He knew he shouldn't come any closer, hell, he shouldn't be watching her, but it was coincidental, ironic, paradoxical...That she could be here, alive, right now, at this very second, drinking beer right in front of him. He would have to report to someone, anyone, but...

He finished his drink, felt the buzz go through him. He called over the unsuspecting witch that was reading Witch Weekly next to him. "Excuse me," he said, pointing to Vivian's back, "is it me or does that girl look startlingly like Vivian Merdoc-Malfoy?"

"Good lord, child," the witch laughed, indicating his glass, "better stop drinking like that, dearie. You going to start hallucinating even more. Vivian Merdoc-Malfoy has been dead for years." However, she took a closer look. "Sort of," she said, and then went back to her reading.

Leaning in to get another look at her, Severus's elbow accidentally sent his glass to the floor with a deafening crash. Everyone turned to look, even Vivian. His eyes went wide as his angry black ones intersected her fearful silver ones. "Vivian!" he screamed once he got the full view of her, stabbing an accusing finger in her direction. "I knew it was you!"

At once, Vivian screamed and ran out of the Leaky Cauldron into the deep brick nothingness that separated her from the rest of Diagon Alley.

***

Harry finally awoke to find Draco already dressed and on his third cup of his "special tea" - tea, with splashes of rum and cocoa in it. "What's the matter with you?" he asked grumpily, starting for the stove to make some eggs. "Where are you going so early?"

"Diagon Alley." came Draco's curt reply. "I need to clear my head. Want to come with me? I'll wait for you to get showered." Harry shook his head, making his hair, if it were possible, more tousled.

The blonde man shrugged. "Want anything special?" Harry shrugged and the frying pan sizzled with relish. "I really do wish you'd use magic around the house," Draco said with disdain as Harry started on an apple.

"Well, I'm off. I should be back before lunch." With that, Draco popped himself out of the kitchen and into the midst of Diagon Alley.

***

"Fuck," Vivian still stood by the bricks, not knowing what to do or where to go. She tapped random bricks with her nails, and they hissed at her. She didn't know the formula. Just then-- the door swung open and Snape flung himself at her.

His face was pressed against hers, their bodies so close that her breasts pushed into his stomach. "Who knows?" his voice whipped at her ear. "Who knows that you're here, god damn it?"

"I..." she searched for the words, feeling her stomach leave her body completely. Then, something snapped at her -- you are the fucking heir of Catalyana Merdoc, only the most celebrated Seer of all time. Fuck this hooked-nose, greasy-haired prick. "No one knew except Tom until you opened up your trap. Thanks to you, you insolent, smarmy bastard, this thing will be hitting the papers as we fucking speak!"

Snape took a step back. "Do you know who I am?"

"Search me."

"I am Severus Snape. I knew your father, I know your uncle, I know your cousin. Do you know the sort of agony they'd be in if they knew you were alive all of this time?"

"Agony?" a small smile played on her lips. "I thought they'd be overjoyed that ole ViVi has decided to come back and wow them with her charms."

He exhaled a bit, his breath playing on her exposed neck, which he then clamped a fist over. "Your charm is as non-existent as my sex appeal. You might have everyone else fooled by your seductive ways and 'damsel-in-distress' act, but I've got your number." He let go of her throat.

Gasping for air, and retaining it quickly, she flashed him a wry smile and turned her back to him, remembering that the bricks were two up, three across.

***

Draco loved the alley when it was either very early or very late. The crowds were thin, and usually there was a serene film of tranquility the hung around the atmosphere. He kind of hoped that Harry would decline his invitation, because this is the sort of thing that you'd like to be alone with.

There was virtually zilch engagement on the streets, and the first stores were just opening up. As he became the first customer at the Apothecary, Vivian exploded from the bricks and began to run. Her mind was racing, and she felt the embarrassment rise and settle on her cheeks. She was embarrassed because she made a mistake. She never, ever made mistakes.

And now, here she was, running through Diagon Alley, running from a mistake. Draco handed the clerk his silver and was about to swing open the door, when a lithe, blonde woman ran past, and tripped over a stray stone.

She felt flat on her face, and Draco heard the tear of human flesh. He immediately ran to her aid, and was faced with her back. Blood was trickling down the side of her leg, and her blonde hair was now dusted with street earth.

"Miss, are you alright? That was a nasty fall--" he gingerly turned her over and felt his heart stop the minute he saw her face. Silver eyes upon silver eyes, intense coldness swept over them.

Vivian bit her lip and tried to make a run for it, but found her limbs were immobilized. Draco was stationary, too, it seemed. "Vivian?" he asked incredulously. Her lips were gaped slightly, and she was still unable to move or speak.

Draco slowly rose to the side of the street and promptly vomited.

***

Harry arrived at work slightly earlier the usual, and was meant with a puzzled look by his best friend, and fellow Auror, Ronald Weasley. "What's going on?" Harry asked, noting that all the workers, no matter their department, were all crowded around one table and comparing data.

"Someone filed a phony missing persons report eleven years ago, and it seems that just now the Ministry has found it as void." Ron snorted at that. "The Ministry is slipping these days, isn't it?"

Harry ignored that comment and started for the table where everyone else was situated. Ron followed suit. "So who is it?" he asked the redhead. "Who did they find?"

Ron peered over the shoulder of someone who was holding a folder. "Vivian Catalyana Merdoc-Malfoy."