The double sided mirror (pansmione wlw)

A voice in the dark

Pansy walked in front of the tapestry three times, trying her best to ignore Barnabas' foolish attempts at teaching the trolls ballet. She had done this before so many times that her movements had become mechanical. First, look around to check that no other student is around. This step never took too long, as there hardly ever were any students hanging out on the seventh floor of the castle in between classes. The next one, which consisted in pacing in front of the stupidest tapestry she had ever seen, while pleading the wall out loud, had proven to be harder.

"You know what I'm here for." she said coldly, hoping that the magic at Hogwarts would be kind enough not to make her beg again. Nothing moved. She rolled her eyes. "Fine, I need a calm, quiet place where no student will find me. A place where I can help Draco fix his stupid closet." The dancing trolls finally moved aside to let place to a door. "A little help too, while you're at it, so I don't go completely crazy". She muttered under her breath before entering the room of requirements.

The vanishing closet. It had been her genius idea, and now it was her curse. Had she not told Draco about it when he had come to her crying, she wouldn't have to share the burden of fixing it. But then again, had she not told Draco, and both their parents would be dead by now. They had split the work, naturally. Draco, who felt extremely guilty that Pansy had been dragged into this, had decided to focus on fixing the closet, while she scoured the forbidden section of the library, looking for an alternative. By the time october had struck around, it had become obvious that all efforts needed to be put in repairing the vanishing closet. That stupid closet.

"Reparo Restar!" she said while raising her wand and pointing it to the closet. The latter had a light tremor, but eventually came back to its original state. Nothing had changed, though the pain looked fresher, if you asked Pansy.

"Reparo totalium!" She tried this time waving her wand in an awkward manner. She had had very few opportunities to practise this spell. A green aura appeared around the closet, but a defined cut prevented it from forming a perfect circle.

She cursed under her breath. Pansy had spent a great deal of time polishing that spell. Draco had told her that it didn't work, but she had blamed his spell working skills. The help that the Old Burkes had promised Draco was so limited that they could practically say they had worked on the project alone. But her charms had proven themselves to be too superficial, only being able to restore the esthetic qualities of the cabinet.

"He's going to kill us if you don't work, stupid!" she kicked the nearest couch in frustration. Secretly helping Draco had its advantages and inconvenients. She clearly did not share the amount of pressure he endured everyday by everyone around him. But it also meant that the amount of work she dedicated to helping her best friend went by unnoticed. Her grades dropped and she had no excuse to give. Most importantly regardless of whether or not they succeeded in fixing the closet, her and her family would never be safe from being mercilessly tortured and killed by the Dark Lord.

She tried using Reparo Restar a couple more times to no avail. Her day had been long, with a potions class that could not have been more boring, now that Slughorn had overtaken Snape, and a transfiguration class that she had understood in a matter of seconds, before her, and a couple other students had been forced to wait for the rest of the class to catch up. The only thing she wished for at the moment was to lay on the couch closest to the fireplace in the common room, and have a nap that would (hopefully) make her forget her problems for a couple of hours. The Dark Lord was demanding. There hadn't been a second where his task had left her mind ever since Draco had confided in her. She sometimes resenting him for it, but ultimately was glad she got to help him and make it less lonely in what was undoubtedly the worst period of his life. Had Pansy been weaker minded, she would have given in and procured herself some knockoff liquid luck, like she had seen the upper years do countless times when exam season approached, and they needed to blow off some steam. She thought back on their big, open mouthed smiles, and their empty eyes, wandering out in the castle, knocking into every statue they encountered. She was better than that.