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Title:
Switched: Reflection
Rating: G
Warnings: WARNINGS
Archived: ARCHIVE
Chapter:
#/#
Notes: Please read up to chapter
11 of Switched so you understand this.
.~*~.
Have you ever
wondered what it is like, to wake up in the morning, roll over under satin sheets,
and stretch, taller than you should be?
Of course you haven’t. You have never experienced being in someone else’s
shoes, have you? Or someone else’s clothes. Or someone else’s body.
To wander around spacious, chilly rooms in the underbelly of a castle, when
for five whole years and a few weeks of a sixth you became used to a shared
dormitory. To step into the shower, avoiding the mirror because you don’t
want to face the role you’ve been forced to play, or to see the face you’ve
been forced to wear. And then, every morning when you lather soap over yourself
and in your hair, you try not to cry because you’ve been put into this
ironic role even when you did nothing wrong.
Because the mirror,
well, it sees all when it is unbroken. It knows who you are. It can see the
sadness in your eyes, until you break it. And you have to. Because what you
can see in the mirror, your enemy can see, too.
And one hairline crack in the otherwise perfect glass is all it takes to hide
your real identity, at least by appearance. To the mirror, that’s all
that matters.
And the disappointment you feel when you get out of the shower, tie the towl
around your skinnier waist, turn to face the mirror.
Because I’m
the one in this role. I’m the one who has to pretend the most. Everyone
has to pretend, of course, but me... I have to pretend to be someone I’m
not. And I have to make myself believe that the reflection I see in the mirror
is not mine, because once I start believing it, I know I’ll go mad.
I don’t think anyone else has changed into the person that they fear,
the person who they can just think of and get the chill, the feeling of unease.
I don’t think anyone else has been switched to the body of the man they
most despise.
And I look into
the mirror, knowing that I am Neville Longbottom, a sixth year Gryffindor who
is sixteen years old. Knowing that I have a grandmother who wears a vulture-topped
hat and parents who don’t remember that they have a son. Hoping that this
is all just one long nightmare that I’ll finally awaken from and never
have to face again.
And I turn away, wondering if I will bear the appearance of Snape forever.
.~*~.
Story copyright © Adrienne Wolter (aka catsncritters) 2003-2004 and onwards. Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling and WB; Matrix to whoever created Matrix; and ATBG to Klasky Csupo. I do NOT claim them, and am making no money off of this fan fiction.
Review?
Reviews are always appreciated, by any writer. They keep us
going, let us know where we've made errors, and generally just been good. However,
there is a fine line between constructive criticism and flaming. I can't say
I don't accept flames, because they waste more time for the flamer than they
do for the flamee, and, frankly, they're usually pretty funny. So don't say
I didn't warn you about slash or something else, because that is clearly stated
at the top. I accept constructive criticism with open arms, however - I want
to improve, and to do so, feedback is a must. I may not rewrite this
particular story, but I will keep criticism in mind for later. :) You can review
using the form here,
or by e-mail at adrienneATcniche.com. Replace AT with an @, of course.