Mirrors

Rayef and Erised

Fred
Fred woke up as sunlight drifted through the window. Someone, a house-elf probably, had drawn the curtains and a soft light was glowing through the window, illuminating the snow encased Hogwarts grounds. White icing covered the grounds, undisturbed by students's footprints. Ice misted over the lake. But even more beautiful than the iced carriages, the majestic Durmstrang ship, the diamond-like snow, and the gentle flurries falling from the sky was Hermione. Her sweet face displayed an ease not shown to anyone during the day, the frown lines on her forehead from squinting at textbooks gone. The dark circles that rimmed her eyes seemed to fade, and her beautiful brown lashes fluttered against her face. One side of her cheek was flushed from where it had been lying on Fred's shoulder. There was a certain tenderness in which she breathed, and how a stray lock of hair moved in time with her inhales and exhales. God, she was so pretty. Not in the traditional sense, like Fleur Delacour was. But she did posses a certain type of beauty that wasn't shown on her face, but shone through the way she smiled, the calm, calculated voice she had.
If only he had asked her. Stupid, stupid, stupid, he thought. Why on earth would Hermione Granger, Brightest Witch Of Her Age, even remotely like him? The prankster, the jokester, the one who could only be told apart from his twin by 2 people in the entire world- Hermione and Ickle Harrykins. She'd never like Fred, and that would be it. No fantasies, no daydreams about him, nothing.
Although they weren't that different, were they? Yes, Hermione was smart, brilliant, even. But wasn't he smart, too? Didn't it take brains to come up with all those Canary Creams, Ton-Tongue Toffees, and Big-Nose Biscuts? Didn't it take brains to carefully plan out each and every prank he'd ever played? Didn't it take brains to comprehend all of Wood's complex strategies? Didn't I take brains to come up with all those clever jokes?
And yet, Hermione hadn't exactly said no when he asked her about the Yule Ball. True, she had cut him off mid-sentence, but that was only because she had been preoccupied. With something much more important, he chided himself. This, he began to ponder about what mission Dumbledore could possibly have assigned them. He hadn't reached any possible conclusions, however, when Hermione stirred feebly beside him.
"Hey," Fred sighed softly as the warm weight of her head left his shoulder. For a millisecond, he wished that she could stay asleep, curled up beside him. But that was nonsense, of course. There were pranks to be played, owl orders to be seeded and received, and snowball fights to play.
"Hey," she murmured back.
"So, um, breakfast?"
Hermione averted his gaze. "No, I think I'm going to sleep," she yawned, pushing her bushy brown hair away from her face. "I-I think I'll take a long nap. Big day ahead." For a second Fred thought she meant school, but then realized it was a Saturday.
He forced himself to be cheery as he realized the decline to his invitation. "Right. Dumbledore."
"Yeah." She rose up and walked sleepily to the stairs that led to the girls dorms.
Perhaps Hermione didn't like Fred after all.

Fred was poring over a letter from Ludo Bagman at the breakfast table, having George read it to him over and over again. The words seemed to swim off the page whenever he read them, and wouldn't stay still and wait to be read. He'd of course heard of Muggles having this condition- dyslexia, the called it- but them didn't stop him from feeling separated from everyone else who got As and Es and Os on their OWLs because they could actually read the question.
"Freddie, are you even listening?" George said, exasperated.
"Yeah," Fred mumbled. "Read it again."
"What's the magic word?"
"Please." Fred rolled his eyes. Odd, Muggle mannerisms were.
"My dear boys," George began in a mocking imitation of Ludo Bagman's voice. "I don't know what in Merlin's beard you're talking about. Leprechaun gold! Ridiculous! I've told you before and I'll tell you again, I paid you in real gold, Galleons and the like. You must've misplaced it, so I can't help you there. Happy holidays! Bagman,"
"That double-crossing prat," Fred hissed. "Shall we tell him that we know about the goblins and the like?"
"Yes," answered George. "I reckon it's time to play just as dirty as him."
"Are you blackmailing somebody? Who is it?" The twins turned around to face Ginny, red haired and three years younger than them.
Fred and George said in unison, "Ask no secrets and we'll tell you no lies."
Ginny smirked. "I could tell Mum."
"Oh, she's playing as dirty as Bagman," Fred said, earning a sharp jab from George.
"Do that and we'll tell Ron about Neville Longbottom." George wiggled his eyebrows. "He'd go and choke on his own laughter."
"Fine, I won't," Ginny grumbled, and stalked off.
They spent the rest of the day sorting through Owl Order Forms for Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, George reading aloud the orders and Fred shipping them, until at last came dinner at 5:30.
As Fred stuffed himself full of mince pies, turkeys, and Bouillabaisse, a French stew that turned out to be quite good, he noticed Hermione casting nervous glances his way, as though reminding him of the meeting they would have with Dumbledore. It was a success.
After dinner, he told George to go on to the common room without him.
"You sure?" Georgie gave him a quizzical look.
"Yes," Fred replied, risking a fleeting glance at Hermione.
George, following his gaze, chortled. "Oh, got yourself a lady friend, haven't you?" He clapped Fred on the shoulder and walked away.
Cheeks still slightly burning, he made his way over to Hermione. "Ready?"
She gave a small nod.
As they walked towards Dumbledore's office, Hermione leading the way, Fred pitifully attempted to make small talk. "So..."
"So..." At least he wasn't alone on the awkwardness.
"How's...studying...for the OWLs going?" He asked, sounding like a developmentally delayed tortoise.
Hermione's ears perked up. Obviously. They were discussing exams for goodness sake. "Oh, pretty well, actually. I'm averaging about 7 hours a day. You think that's enough? I would be doing a lot more, but with everything that's going on- you know, the Triwizard tournament and all- I haven't been able to find the time-"
Fred cut her off. "Hermione," he said, relishing the sound of her unique name, which sounded rather like a bird's melody. 'My-oh-nee', a pretty name for a pretty girl. He caught her staring at Fred, waiting. Snapping himself out of his reverie, he continued. "You do realize that OWLs are a year away, you'll be fine," he assured her.
"But what if I'm not? What if not being able to remember the difference from 'ehwaz' and 'eihwaz' is the difference between a pass or fail grade?" Her tone was almost pleading. "What if, because I couldn't remember one stupid little thing, I lose everything? My school, my friends, my job, my future, y-" she reddened and cut off abruptly, a bit to Fred's chagrin. He rarely saw Hermione so unguarded, actually voicing what was going on in her head. "We're here," she said.
Fred tore his eyes away from Hermione and looked in front of him. Blocking their path was a golden gargoyle, intricately carved with diamonds set into its eyes. It snarled at them, it's large wings blocking the staircase that peeked behind it.
Hermione spoke clearly and as seriously as possible while saying such a ridiculous password. "Fizzing Wizbees." Fred suppressed a grin.
The gargoyle folded its magnificent wings and allowed them to pass.
"Gone a bit loony, Dumbledore," Fred muttered under his breath.
"While I appreciate the comment on my sense, Mr.Weasley," said an amused voice that greeted them at the foot of the stairs. "I assure you that my password choice has to do nothing whatsoever with my sanity."
"Dumbledore!" exclaimed Fred.
"I assure you, Mr. Weasley, a comment here and there about my sanity can be forgiven." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "Now please do hasten to come to my office." He turned around, his long ivory-colored robes swishing behind him.
Hermione
"Revelusi Charnamentus," Dumbledore flicked his wand sharply at the door quickly after they had entered the office. Catching Hermione's curious stare, he answered her unspoken question. "An incantation warning if there is someone outside the door, eavesdropping our conversation." He swiftly seated himself behind a large mahogany desk, upon which was cluttered a phoenix cage, a diary Hermione recognized from their second year, feather quills and an ink bottle, a mound of paperwork, several spellbooks and magical references, and scrolls of parchment.
Hermione granted herself a moment to gaze about the whimsical office, with its patterned carpets and strange objects. Behind the desk lined elegantly framed portraits of who she guessed to be past headmasters of Hogwarts. They were all moving, as was customary for Hogwarts paintings. She vaguely wondered whether abstract art painted by wizards would possess magical properties like portraits did. Hermione made a mental note to ask Madam Pince to refer her to books covering the subject.
The other walls were lined with books, and lots of them at that. Big books and small books and new books and old books and hardcover books and paperback books and just so many books. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Fred smirking at her. She quickly closed the jaw she hadn't realized was hanging open and composed herself.
"Proffesor," she started. "What exactly is it you need us to do?"
"As you are aware of from my note, Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley, I require you to fulfill a task for me." Dumbledore said calmly. "However, before I impress upon you the weighty mission, some background information is required. You see, there is a popular folktales surrounding on twin mirrors Erised and Rayef. Miss Granger, I assume Harry told you of his encounter with the former? And that you've figured out what each name reveals about itself?"
Hermione swallowed, biting down upon a note of panic. If the task had anything to do with the creepy mirror, it was a slim chance they would succeed at it. "Yes. 'Erised' spelled backwards is 'desire', and 'Rayef' spelled backward with the 'y' removed is 'fear'. So if the Mirror of Erised shows your desire, the Mirror of Rayef would show your fear, wouldn't it?"
"Clever," Fred remarked. Dumbledore nodded in agreement.
"But proffesor," Fred interrupted. "Don't boggarts already do what Rayef does, thus defeating the purpose of the mirror?"
Proffesor Dumbledore explained patiently. "No, since boggarts only deal with physical fears. For example, Mr.Weasley, if your younger brother, whom I believe is afraid of spiders, were to look into Rayef, he would see all those he cares about being eaten and tortured by them. The mirror takes your physical fears, pushes them to the extreme, and uses it to destroy your willpower. Men and women have gone mad peering into the mirror, for in addition to its destructive powers, it bears an enchantment to hold the gazes of them. Make no mistake, the mirror is dangerous," he warned. "Therefore, I must urge you two to exercise great caution when using the mirror, and if you feel it's enchantments working on you, you must fight it." He said this with so much force that Hermione nearly jolted. Yet, as quickly as the sternness had come, it was gone. "But now, story time."
Something about the darkness etched on Dumbledore's face told her the story wasn't going to be a happy one.

AN:/ Oh lord, this was horrid, I rambled a lot. Oh, and to the two people who've read this chapter so far, I accidentally clicked the publish button before it was finished, so you might want to skim the end bit again. And to the total people reading this story- Mind sharing it? I'd be so greatful, specially since this is my first fanfic. Thanks, I appreciate it! Kay, kudos to y'all!