Speculum Effigia

Speculum Effigia

"You fucking self-righteous prig!"

"Selfish git!"

"You have your fucking head shoved so far up your fucking arse that you can't see what's happening outside!"

"At least I have a sense of virtue rather than thinking that the whole bloody world is as evil as your family!"

"Leave my family out of this! Don't talk about things that you don't understand you prat!"

Harry's voice lowered, but the quiet anger Draco heard was more unsettling than his shouts.

"I think I know a bit more than you give me credit for, but if that's the way you want to think, go right ahead, I frankly don't care. You broke your ties with them. You owe them nothing. But I think I understand you a little better now."

They glared at each other, flint sparking off steel, eyes harder and colder than either had ever seen before. Without another word, Harry turned on his heel and walked out the door without a second glance. The door closed quietly with an almost apologetic click.

"BASTARD!" Draco screamed at the closed door.

"My, my," said the mirror on the mantle, "temper, temper. Screaming at him won't make him come back, dear."

Draco slammed his fist against the wall. How dare he?! He felt a strange prickling sensation in his eyes. A single tear of rage and frustration, and not to mention wounded pride, slipped down his pale cheek. How dare he? Harry had done more than infuriate and insult him, he had hurt him. That he had caused even this brief moment of weakness in him was almost unforgivable. One simply did not get a Malfoy angry. Nasty things tended to happen.

Draco shook his head furiously. No. He wasn't a Malfoy anymore, he couldn't be. Harry was right; he had burned that bridge beyond recognition. He didn't regret it though, at all. And if he hadn't, what would the consequences have been? Draco's father, Lucius Malfoy, Death Eater extrordinaire and second in command to Voldemort, would not have peacefully and happily given his blessing to his son and his gay lover. His gay lover who happened to be Harry Potter. If there was one thing Lucius Malfoy did not tolerate, it was the loss of what he considered to be dignity and pride. Consorting with Harry Potter, the Dark Lord's nemesis, would definitely count as a blow to his pride. And Lucius Malfoy stopped at nothing for the sake of pride.

And besides, that was Harry who just walked out the door. His Harry. As much as Draco hated and loathed him at this particular moment, he was still His Harry.

Another tear sneaked its way out of Draco's eye. And another after that. He sank to the floor, head hanging limply, fists clenched.

"Bastard." he whispered as his tears fell to the floor unnoticed by anyone.

Harry walked quickly, frantically. He had no destination, nor did he want one. All that mattered was the pavement in front of him, the ancient, blackened gum on the sidewalk, and the constant movement of his feet. A small buzzing filled his head as he continued to walk.

Why doesn't he understand? Why won't he listen? Harry thought, his mind a web of confusion.

Maybe because you won't listen to him, spoke an unpleasant little voice from the back of his mind. Harry willed the voice to be silent. But I'm right! I know I am!

All the same, he felt the unpleasant twinge of doubt, and along with it the bitter sting of guilt and shame, and hurt. He quickened his pace, but was unable to outrun the look in Draco's eyes before he had left. The blazing anger and hatred in his eyes made his insides squirm with guilt. See, spoke the voice in his head, you do feel bad, and rightly so. You really are a self-righteous prick.

Harry sighed heavily, his pace slowing. I am an insensitive prick. How could I say that to him? He bit his lip, wondering if Draco would be willing to even look at him without throwing large objects at his head. He wasn't so sure. Well, I have to try. However, the painful memory of their first real fight caused him to hesitate. He still had a long scar on his shoulder from that kamikaze vase...Harry had survived encounters with Voldemort himself, yet the thought of an angry and violent Draco Malfoy caused him to cringe slightly in fear.

With that thought in mind, he turned and walked slowly but deliberately in the opposite direction, like a man on death row making his way to the electric chair, but he stepped into a flower shop for a few minutes to buy his lover a rose.