eye as Dumbledore poked quietly at the fire, sending up a hissing rush of colored sparks.
'What is it, Draco?'
'Slytherin said that I shouldn?t have been able to fight him…and for a long time I couldn?t, couldn?t fight the pull of the sword, couldn?t act against it. And then, suddenly, I found that I could, just after I killed the manticore — something happened that made me able to act against him. Even after he put the Dark Mark on me. It should have been impossible, shouldn?t it? Slytherin said I was, must be……defective, somehow.'
'Only if love is a defect,' said Dumbledore.
Draco turned his head. 'What do you mean?'
'What you did…telling Harry about his parents — '
Draco winced slightly.
'Don?t look like that. What you did for Harry, you did to save his life, knowing it might cost you your best friend,' (at this, Draco looked slightly green) 'the only other person in the world who holds a piece of your soul, just as you hold a piece of his. You aren?t yourself without Harry, and Harry, whether he knows it or not, isn?t himself without you. To risk that was an act of great unselfishness.
Evil like Slytherins, evil like that which prompted his acquisition of that sword, evil like that which the sword itself is made of, doesn?t understand that, can?t grasp it. And in losing its grasp, it lost its hold over you. If Slytherin says you are defective, it was because you were created to be what he was — a windowless room. What happened between you and Harry, the link that was forged by the Potion, cut a window into that darkness. Now you can look out and see the stars. Consider that a defect, if you wish to. I do not.'
'But I saw myself….' Draco whispered, his voice steady but harsh. 'I saw in the Mirror of Judgement…what I really am. I am defective.'
'There is no Mirror of Judgement.' Dumbledores voice was sharp now with what was almost anger. 'For the son of such a cynical family, you?re awfully trusting. Slytherin lied to you. There was a mirror made at the same time as the Mirror of Erised, to be its twin.
When you look in it, you see not what you most desire — but what you most fear. That is not reality. Those are the black terrors of your own mind.' Dumbledore shook his head. 'You?ve lived a short life, Draco Malfoy. In that short life, you?ve been many things.
Spiteful sometimes, foolish as well; you?ve lied to bring harm to others, and been silent when you should have spoken out. But you?ve changed. No mirror that does not reflect the profundity of that change is a true reflection of what you are. If you can?t see it, then trust the reflection you see in the eyes of your friends…what do they see when they look at you? What does Sirius see, what does Hermione see, what does Harry see? I think you know the answer to that.'
Draco swallowed hard against something that had been blocking his throat for what seemed like a long time. Swallowed hard, and turned and straightened his shoulders. He looked down at his hand, where the signet ring glittered against the pale skin. Hands so much like Harrys, the same slender articulation of bones, the same squared-off nails, the only physical remaining sign that generations ago, their forefathers had been cousins. He said, 'I wanted to tell Harry about my father, but its his birthday — I can?t do it now. If I tell Sirius and my mother, it might wreck their wedding plans. But I should — '
'Draco.' The Headmaster put a hand on his shoulder. 'You told me.
Thats all you need to do. Trouble will come in its own time, there is no need to run towards it. Right now, theres a party going on just outside this room. Go to it. Enjoy yourself. Be with your friends.'
Draco nodded, and went to the door. The Headmaster watched the boy as he crossed the room, the firelight striking cold silver sparks from his hair, the set of his shoulders so like that of another boy Dumbledore had once taught, another boy with silver hair and eyes like gray morning light. Lucius. Who, like his son, had been touched by destiny; the mark of something special had been on him, as it was on Draco. Whether Draco was meant for a greater good or a greater darkness, Dumbledore could not be sure. There was no way to be sure. He could only wait.
'Thanks everyone,' said Harry, and stifled a yawn. Hermione put her arms around him and pulled him back against her shoulder.
'Best presents I?ve ever gotten.'
It was just after midnight, and Harry sat amongst a pile of torn-away wrappings in the downstairs drawing room. The party was still going on in the ballroom, although at a fraction of the crowd and volume it had been at earlier. Only a few guests were left — Percy and Honoria were snogging at a table near the windows, and Angelina and Jana were looking bored while they watched Fred and George leap in and out of a magical fountain Mad-Eye Moody had conjured up during a brief fit of good humor. Fleur and Bill had vanished.
Lupin had been forced by Sirius to accompany Heidi to her London flat. Hagrid was massively asleep and snoring in a corner. The Weasley parents had long ago Apparated home, and now only what Draco privately thought of as 'the family' remained — Narcissa and Sirius, Ron and Ginny, and Harry and Hermione, grouped around the dying fire, oohing and aahing over Harrys birthday gifts. Ginny had given Harry an ancient Gryffindor Galleon from the Weasley cellars, and Sirius had given him an Invisibility Cloak to replace the one destroyed by Slytherin. 'I can?t help thinking I?m just giving you something that will help you get into trouble,' Sirius grinned over Harrys protests, 'but your father wanted you to have his, so -
here you go.' Hermione had given him a watch, Narcissa a fancy new broomstick case, and Ron had given him a an object which made Hermione shriek out loud with laughter when it was unwrapped — a round black ball with a clear glass window cut into it.
One was supposed to ask it a question and then shake it, and words would appear in the window in answer to the query. 'A real Magic 8-Ball,' Hermione giggled. 'Ask it something, Harry.'
Harry looked for a moment hesitant and serious; then his face relaxed into a smile, and he asked, 'Will I get into trouble with the Invisibility Cloak Sirius gave me?'
Everyone gathered round to see the words form in the glass window: Of course you will, Harry.
Hermione pealed with laughter. Ron plucked it out of Harrys hand and examined it thoughtfully. 'Is Honoria really wearing leopard-skin underwear?' he demanded.
Not at the moment, said the ball.
'Gracious,' said Ginny. 'It really does work, doesn?t it?' She poked it with her finger. 'Will Draco ever wear leather trousers again?'
As everyone crowded around giggling, Draco looked up and over at Harry. Potter, he thought. Could I talk to you for a second?
Harry looked up, over Rons bent head. What, here?
