Lonely Portrait

Hello! I hope everyone likes this, I'm terrible at summaries! Takes place in a make-believe sixth year. This is a Dramione, but will include some moments that seem a little…multi-pairing. You'll see.

Anywho, rated M for later scenes.

Chapter One

Hermione stared at the canvas in front of her. She was determined. She was going to do this. It had nothing to do with her needing to feel like she was always the best at everything. Nope. It was for the sake of learning, that's all. Learning.

It had started earlier that day during Transfiguration class. It was mentioned briefly that Wizard Portraits are made with a technique related closely to transfiguration. It was actually amazing- visualize the portrait and transform the blank canvas into one with a moving, talking copy of a wizard in it. Of course, the proper potion must be spread across the canvas as a sort of "paint," which then soaks up the image.

The theory of it didn't seem too complex to Hermione, which is why she was so indignant at Ron and Harry's earlier comments.

"It seems impossibly hard- they don't even have a class for it here." Harry had said.

"Yeah." Ron had laughed. "I bet even you couldn't do anything like that, Hermione."

She had been shocked. It was such a simple theory, and the ingredients were legal and easy to find (which was more than anyone could say for some of her pet projects of the past couple years).

It felt as if the universe had challenged her, and she was not going to ignore it.

She had spent hours on the potion. While the ingredients were not illegal or anything, making portraits was, er….frowned upon. Not against the law, but definitly would cost you some house points. Supposedly, according to McGonagall, it was dangerous. But Hermione had read about the procedure, and it seemed only a complete idiot could mess this up.

In any case, she had vouched to play it safe, and was hiding out in an empty, unused classroom in the dungeon.

She had also failed to mention the whole thing to her friends. They honestly didn't think she could do this? What an insult! After all the times she's solved the puzzle and helped save the day…

Hermione decided she would make it a surprise.

She just had to figure out what to "paint"…an image of Neville facing the Bogart came to mind…hilarious, but no. She should just start out with something she knows, something simple…

In the end she decided to just paint herself, since this was her practice run. That should be simple enough, right?

She dipped the paintbrush in the potion and smeared the canvas with a nice, thick coat. It was many colors all at once; shifting and moving smears of the color wheel. It was actually very pretty just as it was…

Hermione shook her head. The next step.

She visualized the image she had seen in the mirror that morning. After she had fixed her hair and dressed, of course.

Lifting her wand she said in a soft whisper, "Imago Loco In!"

The colors began to move quicker and brighten. They grew brighter and brighter until they almost seemed to give off their own light.

The light seemed to hypnotize the young witch standing before it. She couldn't help but reach out a hand and lightly touch her fingers to the canvas. The light grew and enveloped her in an instant, and everything went horribly dark and quiet.

***

The girl stood up, slowly, from her spot on the floor. She placed a hand lightly to her head. She drew her fingers down her face, ran them over her lips, and down her neck. It was real. It was all real. She could feel her body, really feel.

She smiled, but it wasn't a pleasant smile. In fact, if anyone had been present they would have found it quite frightening.

She walked to the small potion sitting on the floor and kicked it over, spilling the contents all over the stone. She laughed as she picked up the canvas and saw the image of the unconscious girl within it.

Hermione Granger placed the portrait of Hermione Granger into the trash can in the room, the oversized canvas sticking out enough that Hermione's eyes could still be seen, scrunching up in sleep as if she were having a bad dream.

***

Filch was not a happy man. Cleaning all day long after snot-nosed kids with magic they could only put to bad use…it was enough to make anyone angry. And today Dumbledore had asked him to clean out the unused rooms in the dungeon.

Now, don't get him wrong; he'd always be willing to do what Dumbledore asked. While he might not agree with his soft nature on the subject of the students, he knew Dumbledore was a great man. So when he was asked to complete a task, he complied to the best of his ability.

He rolled his cart out from room to room, clearing out debris and putting useful objects back in their place. Many things had been stored throughout the years, and it was Filch's job to organize them.

'Junk. Junk. Crap. Junk. What's this?' he thought, picking up the square frame from the dusty trash bin.

A rather boring picture of a girl sleeping. She moved with her snores as he picked up the portrait.

Another picture to jam the halls of Hogwarts. Sigh. Where the hell would he put this one?

***

Hermione strode purposefully into the Gryffindor common room. She loved the feel of her shoes hitting the stone floor. Ron and Harry were seated by the fireplace, doing some homework.

"Oh good, Hermione's back! I need help!" Ron whined, motioning for her to sit next to him.

Harry grinned. "Er, yeah…we're kinda stuck on the potions paper…"

Hermione plopped down on the small couch. She loved the feel of it under her, and the warmth of the fire. She loved it all! She ran her hands over the fabric, marveling at the bumps and ridges.

She didn't say anything, and must have had a strange look on her face, because the boys both frowned.

"Hermione? Something wrong?" Ron asked, nervously.

"You know, we don't mean anything by it…Snape's papers are just difficult. You don't have to help us…" Harry said.

"…course then we'll fail…"

Hermione looked at the boy sitting next to her. Ron was in love with her. She knew that much. Any idiot could tell. Harry…she wasn't sure. Hmm. Harry Potter, the Chosen One.

He was a much better catch than Ronald Weasley, if she did say so herself.

If she was going to be Hermione Granger, for real, then she was sure as hell going to be a better Hermione than the other. She was going to really live, since she was alive.

Alive. Really and truly alive.

She grinned at Harry. "Nothings wrong. Nothing at all…"