Glass Looking People

Introduction: Where Dante is Draco Malfoy.

He was sitting on a chair, nonchalantly sipping a tiny cup of strong espresso. He was very young and very handsome. Well, he was handsome as a statue, yet seemed as distant and cold as one. For some he might even be ugly.

His hair was silvery white, quite long, attached with a black rubber band. The tip of it was black. Black like all his clothes. He wore black trousers, a black shirt, a black pair of boots and a pair of black sunglasses was on the table.

There was an impressionable collection of very colourful and bright bracelets around his wrists as well as black satin or velvet cords. Those bracelets were the only colour he bore.

His skin was very white, contrasting strongly with his black clothes. If it wouldn't have been for the bracelets, he could have been a dandy who'd escaped from a black-and-white movie, leaving him in monochromatic colours.

A young woman approached the man and shyly sat down. She was impressed by his almost unnatural beauty. She was a writing pad and a little Japanese tape recorder with her. She was a journalist.

Her job was usually to interview old people about old buildings. This was the first time she had to talk with such an important and handsome man. She noticed how his legs were insultingly long under the table.

He was a very important person; he saved people all the time, helping those in need and that for free. He was a bit over twenty and already doing charities. Usually old rich men gave away money to buy the masses and to assure them a way up to heaven.

She smiled as she saw how he tried to ignore her questioning eyes. She hadn't seen his eyes yet. The background information of him had been odd; nothing about him as a child, very much about him in his late teenage years. He had been a rebel without a cause, getting busted for dealing marijuana and being too often drunk during class. She had even contacted some of his friends, all more or less famous people.

The stories about him had been incredible and very psychedelic. She had seen pictures of him, so bright it raped ones eyes. Back then he had been wild; so unlike the man in front of her now. She wondered what could have happened to him to change him so much.

"So. Mister Dante -"

His head snapped up and he opened his eyes wide open and stared at the young woman.

Her heart had a little shock as she saw his eyes. They were grey maybe, but somehow washed away, very pale, so they appeared white. White and old. He somehow appeared to be older than the whole earth; his eyes were filled with unshed tears; or maybe the colour had been washed away from too much tears.

"Please... don't... please don't call me that. My real name is Malfoy. Draco Malfoy."

"Oh. Okay."

Pregnant pause.

"Shall we start with the interview?"

"Mmh."

He nodded, looking past her, looking the street outside the café.

She took the recorder and checked the tape; there was enough space for three hours of talking.

"Mimosa Mellow for The Mirror. Date: 14^th of April 2000. Interview with Mr. Dant- Mr Draco Malfoy, also known as "Dante"."

She stopped the recorder. The excitement had left her as she had seen those weary eyes. The man in front of her was no younger than those old men she usually interviewed. The man in front of her was no more youthful those old men she usually interviewed.

Her eyes softened. Poor him; he wasn't an old man, he was a little boy. Suddenly she felt the strange urge to hug the man in front of her. But instead she gently touched his fingers.

"We're ready."

He nodded.

Mimosa pushed the button again and opened her noting pad. She browsed through the questions she had prepared in advance.

"Mr Dan- Mr Malfoy (he blinked to thank her for the change of his name) you are a notorious young man, very active with charities. You've modelled for a campaign to save the earth and make commercials for the 'Body Shop'. You just returned from a three month journey from Africa where you took care of undernourished children. According to rumours you're going to leave in a couple of weeks with Green Peace to save the whales. This would be first interview you'll ever give."

Usually the men who gave away money because they had too much of it smiled smugly when their charities were mentioned. But he just bowed his head, almost embarrassed.

"It's not much, really," he muttered.

The interviewer watched him now if he would be Mother Teresa. "Not much"? For Christ's sake, she only gave money to charities around Christmas and sometimes bought trade-free products. She couldn't even imagine herself on a boat filled with ex- and neo-hippies, chasing after huge corporation boats.

Her shoulders slumped.

"Mister Malfoy, why, and since when, are you so concerned about the wellbeing of your peers? What inclined you... er... inspired you to be so active?"

His face changed radically, he became somehow smaller without moving. His eyes were brighter and his lips slightly trembled. Then he pressed his hand against his mouth and she wondered if he was going to be sick.

He put his elbows on the table and watched through her again and seemed fascinated by something that was happening outside.

Mimosa turned around and saw two teenagers wearing bright coloured clothes in the oddest of fashions laughing whilst chasing each other down the street. He smiled.

She didn't really know what to do, so she browsed the list of questions in her notepad.

"Do you have an idol?"

He continued to stare outside, following the teenagers with his eyes until they disappeared from his sight.

Finally he turned away from the window and looked at he woman in front of him. She had badly dyed hair; it was supposed to be blond, but it was brightly yellow instead. Or maybe it was on purpose. It suited her though.

To her surprise, she saw tears slowly leaking from his eyes, but he seemed to be laughing somehow. He was fiddling with something in his pocket, and it irritated Mimosa that she didn't know what it was. The object fell from hands.

An old broken yoyo- or something looking like one, rolled on the floor. It wasn't rolling quickly, yet pictures, or some odd patterns, seemed to be moving all by their self. A hand fished up the object before she could see more out of it.

"Yeah, I have an idol: Cherryweather. Her real name is Hermione, but I can't recall the last time I called her that."

"Eh?"

He interrupted her with his hand. Mimosa quickly covered her mouth with her hand. She hated it when she was so rude. Especially now, because it was so inappropriate.

"Do you have time to listen to a fairy tale?"

She nodded.

"It's not really a fairy tale; it doesn't have a happy ending. It doesn't have the happiest of beginnings either, but it's one of my favourite stories of all time. You know why?"

His voice was childish now. His eyes were bright and suddenly appeared to be bluish. It reminded her of the eyes of her co-worker; a school friend she didn't talk to anymore.

She slowly shook her head. She liked to listen to fairy tales; besides it was easier to write about a story than a boring interview. And yes, she Mimosa had a passion for romantic stories with tragic endings.

"I like it because it's my story, told by her, Hermione. I liked to call her Cherryweather."

He braced himself and Mimosa ordered raspberry tea. She took off her shoes and curled up on her chair.

"Once upon a time, there was an Idiot Boy, a horrible boy who was a prick and couldn't say what was good and what was evil. But he had a cousin, who thank god, was a nonconformist..."

Finis intro.