Author's Note: A very short oneshot about a non-canon yet plausible pairing. Plausible to the fan-girl mind, that is. ;) No, really though, it is a good story.

I'm experimenting a little with style and story-telling, so I would appreciate feedback. Thank you!

Song (because a story deserves one, no matter how short it is): .com/watch?v=g38alcdlN94 Taking Over Me by Evanescence (appropriately angsty).

Enjoy!

The door clanged shut behind her, creating a strange echo down the corridor outside. For a moment she stood with her back pressed against it, her breath showing in thin white puffs in the cold air. The cloak wrapped hastily around her did little to stifle the chill of Hogwarts in winter. With a deep, misty breath, she walked slowly forward into the low-slung room.

All around her artifacts from the forgotten years of Hogwarts cluttered up the space. She almost tripped over a fallen statue she only just saw in time. Since none of the torches on the walls were lit she raised her wand and whispered, "Lumos."

The enchantment provided her enough light to see ahead into the darkness, to the end of the long room. Her breath quickened at the sight of the object of her midnight search: a tall mirror standing alone at the back of the chamber. Forgetting her first hesitation, she strode through the room in seconds, coming ever closer to the solitary mirror.

At the very last moment she paused, unsure. She wasn't entirely certain she wanted to see what might appear behind her in the mirror's reflection...yet she knew she would not be satisfied if she lost her nerve to look. She had to know, know absolutely, the truth inside of her. After another few seconds she steadied herself, threw back her long, red hair, and stepped over to the middle of the large pane of glass.

Her wand fell to the floor with a clatter and exstinguished itself, but not before she had seen the boy in the mirror. He had had black hair, as she'd hoped, and a familiar smile, but his eyes-his eyes were all wrong. Dark brown, nearly black, full of false promises and empty dreams, and yet so alluring.

His hands were wrong, too, long and graceful and not right. They were not the hands that had pulled her out of danger time and again; they were, in fact, hands that had happily tried to end her life. Now one of them was pressed against the other side of the mirror, trying in vain to reach her. She knew, could she feel it, that she would shudder at its touch.

But here he was, that boy in the mirror, the only one standing behind her. There was clearly no one else except her own pale reflection. She closed her eyes and opened them again, then picked up her wand. Once it was lit she held it to the mirror...and felt the pressure behind her eyes increase.

He was still there, unchanged from her last glance. She did not really notice how much taller he was than herself, only that he was taller than the boy she had so desperately wanted to see in the glass.

Slowly, she let her wand drop to her side, never taking her eyes from the reflection. At last, when she could no longer see him, she closed her eyes and felt tears streak silently down her freckled face. Bowing her head, she put one hand against the mirror, right where the boy's had been, and turned away.

As she walked toward the door of the chamber she thought she heard a voice whispering in her ear. "Ginny, Ginny," it said, faint but distinct. And because she knew it could never be real-could never be his voice-she ran the rest of the way.