My Blood's True Color

Chapter One ~ Remembering Through The Mirror

* "WE'VE GOT HIM!" yelled the Death Eater nearest to Harry, "IN AN OFFICE OFF-" "Silencio!" cried Hermione, and the man's voice was extinguished. He continued to mouth through the hole in his mask, but no sound came out; he was thrust aside by his fellow.
"Petrificus Totalus!" shouted Harry, as the second Death Eater raised his wand. His arms and legs snapped together and he fell forward, facedown onto the rug at Harry's feet, stiff as a board and unable to move at all.
"Well done Ha-"
But the Death Eater Hermione had just struck dumb made a sudden slashing motion with his wand from which flew a streak of what looked like a purple flame. It passed right across Hermione's chest; she gave a tiny "oh!" as though of surprise and then crumpled onto the floor where she lay motionless.
"HERMIONE!" *

The girl who had fallen woke suddenly from the nightmare, now in the relative safety of her bed. Still breathing hard, she pushed her bushy, brown hair out of her face. 'Why did I have to dream of that now? It's been over for a few weeks now.' Sighing, she got out of bed. "Hermione, you're a mess." she muttered to herself. Looking at her clock, she groaned (2:30 AM), and stumbled across the room to her bathroom. Ever since that night at the Ministry of Magic, Hermione had been plagued by these dreams. All of them depicting what had happened at the Ministry. She knew that if she was having these dreams, that Harry must be having them as well, and that his would be worse. Hermione felt that she was being selfish, and this depressed her. She was avoiding everyone after the term had ended. Not that anyone could be contacted anyway. Feeling worse and worse, the days slipped by, and the nights brought with them the torture and pain of the memories at the Ministry. Hermione looked in her mirror. There were bags under her eyes, her hair was in worse condition, and she had the look of someone that never slept. Hermione's parents had questioned at first, but she managed to put up a mask, and tell them that it was fine, that she just hadn't been sleeping well. That didn't mean that they weren't still worried though. Hermione could tell that they suspected something, and in her view, they were right. A glint shone from the corner of her eye. The broken metal shone out against the mirror, it's jagged edges catching the light in an entrancing way. The small shadow it cast upon the sink becoming part of the design. Hermione ran her finger over the edge gently, before bringing her wrist up to it. She sighed as she felt the warming liquid fall over her wrist. She marveled at the way it painted lines on the drain. Then she remembered how tired she was. "Scourigify" she muttered once the bleeding stopped, and her blood disappeared once again from the sink and mirror edge. Finally relaxed, Hermione shuffled back to her bed and fell asleep once again.