Hey guys! So this is my second Dramione fic (see my profile for the first, titled Formal Introductions if you haven't already read it!), but I'm not quite so sure about this one. Considering this,I'll only continue it if enough people actually want me to. It'll only be a three-shot or something, but like I said, I'm not sure about it so if you guys want me to finish it then I will, but otherwise...
Anyway - please R&R! Much love xoxo
Disclaimer: I own nothing but this particular plotline, all credit to Jo Rowling.
Sixth Year
I need a quiet place to think, I need a quiet place to think, I need a quiet place to think, Hermione repeated the same thought several times as she paced back and forth in front of the wall in the left corridor of the deserted seventh floor.
Within a few moments, a door had appeared in front of her and, quickly checking that nobody was around, she slipped inside. Waiting for her was a comfortable armchair in the centre of the room. Dropping her schoolbag and slipping her feet out of her ballet flats, she sank into the armchair and tucked her feet underneath her. Closing her eyes, Hermione's head fell back against the soft back cushion of the chair as she let everything that had been bothering her flow through her mind.
N.E. , Voldemort, Ron, her parents, Dumbledore, Harry, prefect duties, Malfoy…
Especially Malfoy.
He was so frustrating. She sighed, thinking of his blonde hair, tall stature, elegant posture and eyes the colour of melted steel. She remembered the Yule Ball in their fourth year, when she had seen him smile for the first time. Dancing with a Beauxbatons witch dressed in a mint green dress, he was a different person to the Malfoy that everybody knew. He was comfortable for the first time in his life, and it suited him; his grey eyes were shining, his lips lifted in a laughing smile, a smile that Hermione had not seen since.
She wanted him to smile, wanted him to laugh, and wanted him to stop hating her for the most pathetic reasons. Her blood status did nothing to hinder her magical abilities – wasn't she the brightest witch of her age? Her choice of friends did not mean that she was an instant failure – had he even noticed his own friends? Ahem, followers.
Subconsciously, Hermione yearned for the carefree Malfoy who had haunted her thoughts since Christmas of 1994.
A whoosh alerted Hermione from her reverie, and she pulled her wand out quickly as she got to her feet. Her brown eyes scanned the Room, looking for the source of the sound. Her gaze fell upon a tall, sheet-covered object that she had not noticed before. It cannot have been there when she first entered the Room; she would have noticed it, surely.
The sheet was fluttering, as if it had only just been thrown over the object. No, as if the whole thing had only just appeared. There was no other explanation; whatever the sheet was covering had just been revealed to her by the Room for some reason unbeknownst to her. Not for long.
Curious, Hermione approached it with caution, her wand in her hand. With a flick of her wrist, the sheet flew off, revealing a large, ancient, ornate mirror with clawed feet and a golden frame. Along the top was an inscription that read "Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi."
Staring at the mirror in awe, her brown eyes wide, Hermione's mind was whirring. This mirror was so familiar to her, but she could not think of why. As she focused on the inscription, a memory was brought to the front of her mind. She had read about this mirror somewhere, although the name of the book was lost to her. The Mirror of Erised, the Mirror of Desire, loomed over her.
Hermione's heart raced as her eyes slowly trickled down the Mirror's gilded frame, looking at every point of the mirror except her own reflection. She longed to look, but was so afraid. What would she see?
She couldn't resist any longer. Closing her eyes briefly, she breathed deeply. Before she could think twice, she snapped her eyes opened again and they locked with the eyes of her reflection. Hermione inhaled sharply, for in the Mirror she looked happier than ever. She was laughing, her brown eyes sparkling. On her left hand was a sparkling silver engagement ring and a matching wedding band, and wrapped around her were the arms of none other than Draco Malfoy.
Unable to tear her eyes away, she sunk to her knees in front of the Mirror. Her eyes were fixated upon Draco's face, upon his sparkling grey eyes and pearly white smile. The smile, Hermione thought, he's smiling. He's happy. As she watched her reflection laugh with her husband, her heart sank. No matter what, she could never have that, or him, or that with him.
She didn't know how long she sat there, sat in front of the Mirror, just staring, but it felt like hours. Wiping her eyes on her sleeve, she flicked her wand again and turned away from the Mirror as the sheet covered it once again. She picked up her bag and hurried out of the Room, resisting the strong urge to glance back. When she finally got back to the near-empty common room, she knew it was late.
"Where have you been?" Ron demanded to know, jumping up from the sofa. Harry quickly followed, concern on his face.
"I was in the Library," she lied, hoping that her voice wouldn't crack. "You know that Madam Pince lets me stay late sometimes."
"Yeah, but this late?" Harry asked. "It's almost midnight!" Hermione stifled a gasp, quickly thinking of something to tell them.
"Is it? I didn't realise. Madam Pince had some extra work to finish, I suppose; she usually just kicks me out whenever she's done so I don't look at the time," she said, shrugging. Please believe it, please believe it.
Harry and Ron exchanged a glance, not entirely convinced, but gave in nonetheless.
"Now, I'm going to bed," she told them, heading for the staircase to the girls' dormitories. "Goodnight." She walked so quickly up the stairs that she barely heard their respective replies. Creeping into the dormitory she shared with the other sixth year Gryffindor girls, she grabbed her nightwear and climbed onto her four-poster, pulling the curtains around. She changed quickly, sorted out her robes and then dived under the covers, burying her newly tear-streamed face in her pillow.
"Where are you–?" Goyle asked as Draco rose from the plush leather couch in the Slytherin Dungeon.
"Out," Draco replied shortly.
"Do you need us–?"
"No."
No more questions were asked about Draco's intentions. Goyle exchanged a look with Crabbe before going back to whatever it was he was doing; Blaise kept his eyes firmly on the Potions textbook in front of him; Pansy sighed but said nothing. Without looking back at the group, Draco walked out of the Dungeon.
To him, his intention was plain. Crabbe and Goyle probably thought that he was going to deal with what they had been assisting him with, despite the fact that they had no idea what that was. But he wasn't. He was going back to the Room, of course – it was where he spent most of his time, but not just for the task.
Silently making his way through the sleeping castle, he tried to keep his thoughts at bay. Finally, he reached the seventh floor and began to pace across the wall in the left corridor. I need to see my deepest desire.
The door appeared and he ducked inside the room. The Mirror was waiting for him, leaning against the far wall. Approaching it, he inhaled deeply. He desperately wanted to look at his reflection immediately, but he forced his eyes to avert from the centre of the mirror, pacing himself. His grey eyes raked over the inscription along the top, and all the way down the detail of the golden frame to the clawed feet at the bottom.
Finally, he could resist the urge no longer. He looked directly into the grey eyes of his reflection, and saw his heart's desire panned out for him within the glass. A happier version of himself, without the expectations or the family reputation to uphold of the overbearing pressure of the events that had been occurring of late, stood before him. Stood beside this reflection of Draco stood a beautiful young woman, with curly brown hair, deep brown eyes and the most radiant smile that revealed two slightly larger – although not as large as they used to be – front teeth.
Hermione Granger.