Mirror
In the dark of the night Hermione feels unpretty.
---
That
I would be great
If I was no longer
queen
That I would be grand
If I was not all knowing
Alanis Morissette – That I Would Be Good
The scissors cut right through her thick brown hair, her knuckles where white from gripping the cold silver handles of the muggle scissors. Her eyes were red from crying.
The tears had stopped. With every hair that fell, she felt somewhat lighter. Under her breath she was murmuring a spell out one of the fairytales that her mother always read to her.
'Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who's the prettiest of them all…'
She was blind for the ghost that haunted the dark corners, she only saw the dark reflection of herself. Only a few steps away was the opening of the Chamber of Secrets.
But Hermione found herself in her own torn world.
She breathed a sigh of relieve. Her hair made circle around her, as if she was preparing herself for an ancient ritual. She placed her hands before her, and looked in one of the old mirrors. A shaky smile came upon her face. Slowly her eyes filled again with tears.
She wiped the tears away with a trembling hand. In an abrupt movement she smashed the mirror.
Her eyes filled themselves only with wonder, as she gazed at the blood that slowly seeped through her white blouse. Angry red wounds were left behind by the sharp edges from the broken mirror shards.
The mirror crunched under her knees when she fell downwards, sobs racked through her body.
Her beautiful brown hair got drenched in blood. As she lost more blood every minute.