Refraction

Refraction Round 1

Refraction (the change of direction of a ray of light, heat, or the like, in passing obliquely (neither perpendicular nor parallel to a given line or surface; slanting; sloping) from one medium to another in which its speed is different)

*****************************************************************

Draco wiped the steam from the mirror and noticed a crack in it that ran diagonally across his reflected face. He stared at his face, distorted by the fissure, sliced into two separated visages. A glint of light shone in the crack, right between his eyes. He ran a finger down the mirror, tracing the edges in the unevenness, feeling the sharpness, staring into his own eyes, trying to ascertain the movement of his emotions. Seeing nothing but steely determination.

Everyone says Father's eyes are emotionless. Am I just like him? Do I want to be just like him?

He drew his finger away from the mirror and realised there was blood running down his hand.

I didn't feel that one.

He turned the tap on and watched the trickling water blend with his dripping blood, creating something surreal, meandering around the whiteness of the basin, eddying around the sinkhole and then sliding into the darkness, the nothingness of the drain.

He looked up at his pale reflection.

I bleed red. So I do exist.

He raised his left hand to the mirror again, not noticing that it was drenched in pale, watery redness and placed his hand between his reflected eyes. Splaying his fingers, so his eyes stared back at him from between them, he pondered again on the emotionless mask.

When I look into Father's eyes and I see this, is this his mask? Is this mine?

A noticed change, flecks of blue in steel grey, like flashes of lightning, gone before they start. Emotion?

He watched, fascinated by the rivulet of blood making its way down the mirror from the base of his palm. No longer diluted by water, it ran dark and slow.

He slid his hand down the mirror, leaving a ghostly, vermillion imprint, then pulled his hand away from a sharp pain.

I felt that one.

He stared at his hand, like it belonged to another, barely noticing that it was his hand. In that moment, that second, it was not his hand. It was the hand of his father, just as fine, just as manicured, just as soft, but stained with the blood of others, a symbol of the death and destruction he had created.

As he snapped back to reality, he realised that it was indeed his hand, his blood. A trail of red snaked down his wrist and under the cuff of his shirt.

He swore.

'Great, just great. All I need now is to turn up in class with blood all up my shirt. Snape'll notice that, the interfering git.'

He undid the buttons on the cuff and rolled up the sleeve. The trail ended just before the crook of his elbow. He took a handkerchief from his trouser pocket, wet it under the running water and proceeded to wipe away the blood from his arm and hand.

Unscathed.

He rinsed out the handkerchief, and wrapped it around his hand, tucking in the corner with the green and silver monogrammed 'DM'to hold it fast. He turned the tap off, did the cuff back up and raised his head to stare straight into his own eyes.

Who am I? Am I in there somewhere?

And again, he saw something move - like shadows in the greyness, a flicker of darkness.

A movement behind his reflection caught his eye. A flash of green under black hair.

'You know Malfoy, it doesn't matter how long you stand there, looking at yourself, you won't change.'

Draco straightened up and glared at the reflection off to his right. A moment passed as they stood, staring at each other.

'What would you know about it?' Draco said softly.

'I know that you and your sort are all the same.'

'So tell me Potter, what is my sort?' Draco was speaking so softly that Harry moved a few steps closer to him, but they did not break eye contact.

'Evil, debauched, depraved, corroded and decayed.'

Draco gripped the sides of the basin so hard his knuckles turned white.

'Oh yes, and you're the only thing in this whole world that's pure and good and right, Potter,' Draco spat back, sarcastically.

'Maybe I am and maybe I'm not, Malfoy, but at least I do not kiss the hems of a genocidal maniac.'

'Neither...do...I.'

'Not yet you don't, but you will follow family tradition, won't you? Isn't that what you Malfoys do? Step into the footsteps of your father?'

'I AM NOT MY FATHER!'

Did I say that?

Harry took a step back in surprise.

Draco's heart was beating so fast, he felt as if it would jump out of his chest. His face flushed and he could feel the perspiration sliding down his torso. His hands were shaking the basin in anger.

Harry took another step back as he watched Draco's pupils dilate and cheeks redden, then felt for his wand as he saw the basin shaking. The air crackled.

The basin at the end of the row exploded, spraying water and pieces of porcelain across the room. Harry jumped back, eyes wild, pointing his wand at it. The next basin in the row followed suit, and then the next. The only basin left intact was the one that Draco held.

Draco was watching Harry's reflection, listening to his mind race and hearing only his blood coursing through his body like a river rapid with flood. He felt as if he were overflowing, crushing and drowning everything in his path. His breath was so quick, he could hardly speak.

'Let me tell you something, Potter,' Draco whispered, his voice wavering.

Harry spun back to Draco's reflection, wand now aimed at Draco's back. Their eyes connected again, Draco's angry, Harry's wary.

'Everything's a lie and that's a fact.'

Harry was struck dumb. He stood, staring at Draco's reflection in shock, not believing what he was hearing.

'Probably the most truthful words you will ever hear, Potter,' Draco smiled sadly.

'What are you talking about?'

'What...I...am...talking...about,' Draco said through clenched teeth, 'is lies. Truth...and lies. Dumbledore lies to you, my father lies to me, what's the difference? It's all lies.'

Draco hung his head and released the basin. He closed his eyes and sighed heavily.

'You just don't get it,' he whispered.

'And what is there not to get? It's pretty simple, Malfoy. You and your lot on the one hand, killing everything in your path to world domination on the robe hems of a madman. And the rest of us, trying to survive and stop you from destroying us all.'

'Ah, yes, it is all so black and white to the Boy Wonder, isn't it? No shades of grey for you, is there? Did you ever stop to consider that perhaps there are some of us who don't fit...don't want to fit into either of those categories? No, to you there is only the black and the white.'

Draco turned around to face Harry and spread his arms wide. 'I'm unarmed, Potter. Do your worst.'

Grey eyes met green in the challenge. A minute passed and neither of them moved. Harry still had his wand pointed at Draco.

'Bloody Gryffindors,' Draco put his arms down, 'won't hex an unarmed man. Honestly, Potter, you'll have to do better than that if you're going to defeat the Dark Lord.'

'What would you know about it?'

'Obviously a lot more than you.'

Draco stepped toward Harry.

'Lesson one, Potter,' Draco drawled condescendingly, 'is that if your enemy is vulnerable, you attack.'

Draco swung his leg around and knocked Harry's feet out from under him.

'See?'

Harry struggled to find his footing on the wet floor. Draco smiled.

'You look good down there, Potter. Natural position for you, is it?'

Draco stood over Harry and looked down his nose at Harry on the floor.

'Fuck you, Malfoy.'

'Mmmm, now there's an idea.' Draco bent down, grabbed Harry's collar and pulled Harry's face so close, he could feel Harry's breath on his mouth.

'How about it, Potter,' he whispered hoarsely, 'fancy a shag with the Slytherin ice-prince?'

Harry reached up, grabbed Draco's throat and pushed him to the floor. Draco felt his head hit the wet tiles, and let go of Harry's collar. He winced in pain as Harry straddled him, holding him down by his throat.

'You like it rough, do you, Malfoy?'

For Draco, the world stopped. All he could hear was his rapidly beating heart and all he could feel was the growing tension in his groin.

Finally.

'I...'

'Well?' Harry squeezed tighter around Draco's throat.

'I...'

Draco's vision was beginning to blur, when he suddenly felt the weight lift from his body and the air rush into his lungs. He rolled to his side, coughing. He heard wet footfalls moving slowly away from him. When he looked up, he saw Harry walking towards the door.

'Noooo,' he groaned.

I hate it when you walk away.

Harry didn't even turn around.

'Why don't you slither back under the dark rock you came from and return when you're ready to play with the big boys, Malfoy?'

'And you think you're one of the big boys, Potter?' Draco croaked with a flippancy he didn't feel.

I know it can't go on this way.

Harry stopped in his tracks, just as he was reaching out to open the door.

'Don't fuck with me, Malfoy.'

Draco moved around and rose up on his hands and knees. He looked up at Harry, and cleared his throat.

'You haven't even given me the chance to.'

Harry turned his head slowly and looked over his shoulder at Draco.

'What?'

Draco almost missed the word, it was spoken so softly.

'You heard me.'

Why is this so hard?

Draco's breath quickened to the point where he was almost panting. Again, the beating of his heart overrode his mind.

Harry stared at Draco, his expression unreadable. The muffled sound of a bell could be heard through the closed door.

'If this is a joke, Malfoy, it's in very poor taste,' Harry stated as he opened the door and walked out.

As the door clicked shut, Draco bent his head and whispered, 'It's no joke, Potter.'

You can drag it out, but I'll be waiting.

********************************************************************