Draco Malfoy and the Second Prophecy

It was an enchanting mirror, Draco had heard of it before. "The Mirror of Erised". He'd heard tales about Witches and Wizards toiling their lives away infront of it, knowing that it was destroying their very soul, but the kept coming back. Some starved to death, some were driven mad.They said, that in the mirror you saw your deepest desires and longings, ones you couldn't even admit to yourself. Very often, ones you couldn't have even if you did know of them.

The Slytherin in question stood in front and to the side of it now, not willing just yet to see what the mirror had in store for him. Probably something about his untimely demise for refusing the Dark Mark, or death at the Dark Lord's hands, blah blah blah. Well, actually, no, he wouldn't see that. This would, he reminded himself, show him what he wanted most. If he WANTED to be killed at the hands of Voldemort, that was an entire seperate and somewhat disturbing story.

He wasn't even sure why the mirror was here, in the Room Of Requirement. Draco usually made almost-nightly visits here, that is, since the insomnia set in, and the Mirror had never appeared before. Usually a small room with a comfortable chaise lounge, some parchment and a quill and maybe a small shelf of his favorite leatherbound voulmes were conjured up. Depending on how he felt at the time, a few details were changed, such as if he wanted tea or hot cocoa, a favorite of his mother's, or what color he would prefer to see at the moment, maybe the level of light in the room.

But never this. Never this cold stone, chilled by night air and lit by the moon, and this mirror...He didn't want this. Didn't think of it. So why was it here, in the room that molded itself to his whim?

Perhaps his subconscious was trying to tell him something?

"Well," He said aloud into the chill of the room, the echoes reverberating in an oddly hollow fashion, "I guess I'll never know until I look then, will I?"

And with that, he moved forward into the moonlight and the mirror.

It gave him a start, at first, to see Harry Potter, his rival, his nemisis, staring back at him. He stepped back, suddenly, and Mirror Harry peered at him with curious green eyes, his lips curling just a bit at the corners with amusment. "What do you want?" the blonde spat, reacting to the illusion of his rival in the mirror. Now Mirror Harry broke into a full grin, and shrugged.

"Well quit looking so damn happy, will you? I bet you at any minute, my true desire will be revealed!", Draco lifted a finger dramatically and screwed his face up into his best impersonation of his father. Surely, his greatest desire would be to lop Potter's head off in the heat of battle, or beat him to a bloddy pulp or... The grin turned into what would have been a laugh could Mirror Harry make any noise. Draco snarled at him, and Mirror Harry shrugged again and gestured to himself.

The Slytherin looked at him, the messy hair, the oversized clothing, that blasted scar. "You?" he said, with a sneer, completely oblivious to how it must have looked, with him insulting his own relfection. "YOU are what I most desire? HA!" He threw up his hands. "This mirror knows NOTHING! Malfoys desire riches and power, not stupid Gryffendor gits!"

Mirror Harry looked a bit concerned, and it bothered Draco in some way that he couldn't quite place. "Sod off." He glowered, making a dismissive shooing movement with his hands. Mirror Harry just shrugged again. "GOD DAMMIT POTTER, MOVE!"

Mirror Harry knitted his eyebrows and reached out to the blonde, which bothered him even more in that strange way he couldn't discern. When he realized, finally, that Potter wouldn't leave until he got out of veiw of the mirror, he let out a yell that bounced repetitavley through the room, and, turning on his heel, stalked out.

The Slytherin strode with purpose down the corridor in the dead of night, still seething, and not caring if anyone found him. He was a Prefect, after all, and favored by Proffesor Sanpe, so that wasn't even an issue.

"A trick Mirror, must have been." He muttered darkly to himself. "Someone must have bugged the Room of Requirement. Either that or my subconscious decided to play a particularly nasty joke on me."

But hours later, when Draco lay unsleeping in his bed, the dark green velvet of his bedcurtains drawn, he wasn't so sure.