Disclaimer: Harry Potter is owned by JK Rowling.
A/N: This is a bit cheating, but seeing as it's still Hermione-centric to me, I placed it in this collection. Sorry it's so short!
Pairing: Secret
Rating: T
Genre: Sadface
ooOoo
There were times when she looked at a mirror and saw someone else. Herself; and yet not.
The same mess of golden brown curls that frizzed at a hint of moisture in the air.
The same almond-shaped eyes—sharp and observant, although without the faint lines.
Her not-self's face was leaner, however...more angular. Cheekbones that were sharp, like her husband's. Thinner lips, too—but a beautiful smile, that sweet upturn of her lips showcasing teeth that would make any dentist proud.
Oh, that smile. It did something to her.
Stole the air from her lungs.
Flooded her eyes with tears.
Wrung her heart until she was sure it was broken.
"What's wrong, love?" Her husband appeared at the doorway behind her, concern etched on his reflection.
She dabbed at her eyes, an embarrassed flush warming her cheeks. "Oh—it's nothing," she stammered. "Just makeup irritating my eyes."
The worried wrinkle between his eyebrows smoothed over, giving way to an easy smile. "For what it's worth," he said, circling his arms around her waist, leaning her back against his chest, "you don't need it. You're as beautiful now as you were twenty years ago."
His words landed heavily on her heart.
"Darling." She took a fortifying breath. "When you look at me, do you...what do you see?"
He stared at her curiously. "I see my wonderful,"—a nuzzle against her temple—"talented"—lips grazed against her earlobe—"beautiful wife." He pressed a tender kiss on her exposed shoulder. "Who is going to make us late for our dinner with the Smythes," he said, fixing the mirror with a look of mock severity.
She swatted him away playfully. "Oh, all right. Go on and start the car, you old coot! I'll be out shortly."
With a laugh and a sheepish, "Yes, dear,"—he left. Minutes later, the rumble of an engine reached her ears.
She placed the cap back on her lipstick. As she traced a finger along the outline of her bottom lip, she saw her again.
Herself; and yet not.
Lovely and painful to behold. Strange...and familiar. Like the ghost of a word at the tip of her tongue.
If only she could remember.
The squeak of the front door pulled her back to the present. "Monica, love!"
With a self-deprecating laugh, she shook her head at her reflection. She turned her back to the mirror, shutting the lights off as she hurried to Wendell. "Coming!"
ooOoo
A/N: Thanks for reading! Reviews are appreciated!