A/N- Set just prior to Dumbledore's death, but will not be very canon at all. Mainly serving as writer's block cure for my other fic's.

"And be careful with the leather one, it's a first edition- Oh, listen to me. As if you're likely to damage a book." Professor McGonagall smiled kindly as Hermione staggered past her with a huge tower of books.

"Ordinarily I would just levitate them myself, but some of the charms on those books are very old and a little unstable- the less unnecessary magic they come into contact with the better."

"Of course, Professor, I understand. I'll take them upstairs right away." Hermione grappled with the bottom book for a better grip as her fingers slipped over the leather, worn smooth with age.

"Thank you, Miss Granger."

Hermione struggled to peer over the top of the pile as she navigated the sandy coloured corridors to the rooms the professor had indicated. She heard Mrs Norris yowl at her irritably as she passed one of the cat's favourite hiding spots and resisted the urge to kick her. No other animal had ever managed to irk her to the brink of violence as that mangey cat had in their years of knowing one another.

With the toe of her shoe, Hermione nudged open the door to her left and held it open with her knee, hopping sideways until it was at her back, and then closed behind her. Setting the pile down on a desk, she took the top three books from the pile and left them by the window with a few others as instructed, and then heaved the rest of them back up and set towards the next room on her list, which happened to be Snape's office.

She groaned internally, and hoped he wouldn't be there when she called.

Naturally, he was.

"Miss Granger." He said stiffly, regarding the teetering tower of books.

"The top on is for you, professor. From Professor McGonagall." Hermione was glad now that she had taken the time to order the books so that the next ones to be taken would always be at the top- this way Snape could just take his book and she could go as quickly as possible.

The top book was plucked from the pile and Hermione felt the weight in her arms ease off significantly, letting her stand a little more naturally. The book for Snape was by far the largest.

"Thank you, Miss Granger." Something in Snape's voice seemed a little off, and Hermione placed it as mild bewilderment.

"Uh… Yeah." Hermione said, dumbly, turning to leave to quash her embarrassment at her lack of social skills for awkward situations.

"Miss Granger." Snape's voice was stronger now.

Oh, just let me leave. Hermione winced, half turning to look at him.

"Keep your wand in your sleeve."

Hermione pulled a face. "What's that supposed to-"

Snape's door slammed behind him.

Hermione stared at the door for a long time before carrying on her way. Had that been a threat?

The Gryffindor pressed the inside of her arm against the spines of the books she held and felt reassured as the wood of her wand pressed back.

She decided Snape was just messing with her, kicking another door open to make her final delivery.

As she entered the room, another door caught her attention. It was a small, dark medieval looking door with big iron straps across it, which she couldn't remember it being there last time she had come here. Setting the books down, Hermione looked behind her quickly and then moved to the other side of the room. She pushed on the wood of the door- seeing as the handle kept moving when she tried to grab it- locked. The door handle settled back down right at the bottom of the door by her foot.

"Stupid idea." Hermione muttered. She was, however, intrigued. What could be behind a door with a handle which evaded being caught?

It took fifteen minutes before Hermione found the right spell, and another ten before she managed to use it with enough conviction that it actually worked. The woeful door opened, and the young witch found herself looking at a sheet, which appeared to be covering something large and flat.

Hermione gripped the sheet and pulled it down from its draped position with a swish.

Behind it was a mirror, and Hermione's heart skipped a beat.

"Erised..." Hermione gazed at the mirror, and whilst having never done so before, recognised it immediately.

This is the mirror Harry saw in our first year. The young witch thought. She thought Dumbledore had taken the mirror somewhere safe, how the mirror had made its was back to the castle she couldn't imagine. Curious, Hermione stepped fully in front of the mirror. She took a deep breath, cleared her mind, and looked up to her own face.

Her blood froze.

For a split second she had to remind herself that it was just an illusion, as she whipped around and jumped away from the space to her left, sure there was a mistake. When she looked back, however, the reflection was exactly the same.

Dark and beautiful, another witch stood motionlessly beside her.

"But-" Hermione spluttered to herself. How could this be anything like what she wanted most? Bellatrix? Hermione's blood boiled at the thought. But sure as day, Bellatrix stood casually next to her, wand in one hand, the other playing with a stray curl. She wore a smile that would make most men, and probably a great deal of women weak. It made Hermione several things.

After a few more seconds of horrified staring, the Gryffindor turned sharply on heel and left the room. She slammed the door behind her, pressed her back to it, took a deep breath, and then flung it open again, marching back to the mirror, sure that this time she would see herself as a successful ambassador for elven rights, or becoming a famous writer.

Bellatrix cast a glance at her the second time, and then went back to her thoughtful stare.

"No, this can't be right, this must be a different mirror." Hermione muttered. Suddenly, she knew what she would do. She would ask harry to describe the mirror he had seen, and then surely it would be confirmed that the mirror of Erised looked entirely different.

Yes. She'd do it right now.

Leaving the mirror behind, Hermione hurried through the corridors towards the Gryffindor common room, praying Harry and Ron were still playing chess where she left them.

"Haha! Checkmate, mate." Ron leaned back in his chair in satisfaction as the last of Harry's pieces became entrapped by the Queen.

"Argh, I was so sure- oh, hey Hermione." Harry smiled at her as she dragged a third chair over to them, its legs groaning against the floor.

"Hi, boys." She mumbled distractedly.

"What's up? I thought you were errand running for McGonnagal."

"Um, yeah, all sorted now- listen, Harry?" The witch shifted in her chair.

"Yeah?"

"You remember that mirror from our first year? The one that showed you the thing you wanted most in the world?"

Harry frowned. "The mirror of Erised? Sure, why?"

"What, uh..." Hermione tried to come off casual but sounded a little queasy. "What did it look like?"

"What did it- oh. Um. Well, it had two steeple-like points on the top with a sort of triangle arch between them and lots of foreign writing in a half circle over the mirror bit. It was rectangular, pretty damned big, medieval looking- why?"

Hermione now felt as queasy as she looked.

"Just wondering." The young witch answered lamely.

Ron gave Harry a look and Harry pulled an awkward sort of face that was probably intended to move the conversation along.

In a world of her own, Hermione stared at the chess pieces as the boys played another game, before standing abruptly.

"I have to do something. I'll be back later."

"Want the cloak?" harry offered casually, probably assuming she was going to the library.

"Why would I- Oh." The clock showed plainly that it was after their curfew. She sank back down into her chair.

"You know what, it can wait."

You sure you're alright?" Ron asked, over a mouthful of chocolate frog.

"I'm fine. I think I'm going to go to bed though, night guys."

"Night." Came the unsure chorus.

The next day was Sunday, and it brought with it some small determination. As she had lain in bed the evening before, Hermione had pieced together a sort of plan. She was going to ask Snape to use the boggart. She couldn't say why, but after the encounter in the department of mysteries, Bellatrix had stalked her nightmares so intensely she couldn't imagine the boggart assuming the form of anything or anyone else. Perhaps it was that moment Bellatrix had looked right at her and Hermione had felt her very soul cripple. Or, perhaps, it was just common sense to fear such an evil woman. Either way, she was convinced that if her boggart showed her Bellatrix, then the mirror would have to concede and show her something else- after all, they couldn't possibly show her the same thing.

Snape opened the door to his office slowly, staring down at her expectantly.

"Yes."

"Professor, I was wondering if I could use the boggart. Alone." She added, panicking slightly at the thought of Snape accompanying her.

"Of course." Snape said, disinterestedly.

"I- Really?" Hermione had been expecting a fight.

"Miss Granger, if you wish to put yourself off your food this evening, that is entirely your choice."

"Oh." Silence. "Okay."

"It's in the third storage room on the second floor. Knock yourself out." He finished, sounding every syllable out slowly, his face not moving and his tone dropping.

"I'll try sir." Hermione muttered, turning away from the man.

"You might try harder, Miss Granger."

When Hermione turned back, again, Snape held the keys out to her at arms length. "Wouldn't want to see you in trouble for breaking in somewhere out of bounds."

Hermione swallowed. He couldn't know about the mirror, could he?

"No sir." She replied, trying not to seem guilty.

In the storage room-which was bigger than most classrooms and full to bursting with all kinds of lesson props, cauldrons, and even a snapped in half broom- Hermione had little trouble finding the cabinet. It shook when she unlatched it's doors, creaking wearily on it's stubby legs, and then, slowly, the door opened.

In an instance, all the breath left Hermione in a mixture of fear and confusion.

Seeing Bellatrix in the mirror was one thing, but she was much more real now.

Hermione backed up slowly, a foot behind her for every one Bellatrix put in front.

She wore the same smile which made her look much more predatory now- and Hermione felt a lot like prey. Trembling, Hermione raised her wand.

"Riddikulus." She cried, following through with the wand movement. Nothing. Bellatrix came to a stop in front of her, right as Hermione realised her mistake.

If Bellatrix is what I want most, I'll never be able to have enough conviction to perform the counter spell to the boggart.

Hermione looked left and right for a way out and her heart sank as she realised the boggart blocked the door. She knew it wouldn't be as strong as the real Bellatrix, but Boggarts could still imitate magic and if it attacked, she could very well be done for.

The fake Bellatrix started moving again, and Hermione's mind began to scramble for a way out.

She could fight it- but what would it do if it was provoked? Would she find herself face to face with a pissed off death eater, which even at half of the real thing's power would still probably be more than a match for her? Would it not fight at all? Would it know, after engaging with her, that her worst fear had changed to being killed by Bellatrix and act on it?

Shit. Hermione was pressed so hard against the wall when Bellatrix stopped walking for the second time she was sure just the slightest push might cause her to be absorbed into it.

The dark witch was so close to her that she stopped breathing. Hermione could see the flecks of gold in Bellatrix's iris', and feel the warmth that radiated from her.

Hermione took one last desperate glance to one side, convinced that a knife was about to be lodged into her abdomen, or a dagger run across her throat and squeaked as Bellatrix grabbed her face with one hand and brought it back around.

Before her eyes had refocused, the boggart kissed her. Hermione froze and her lips quivered slightly at the foreignness. Warmth battled with the softness for the most prevalent feeling.

Bellatrix is kissing me.

No, Her mind argued back, a boggart is kissing you.

Hermione snapped out if it at that thought, pushing Bellatrix away from her and re-aiming her wand, her hand barely able to grip onto the handle.

She opened her mouth to cast the spell and-

"Riddikulus." -it was cast for her.

Professor Snape prowled into the room and pushed the boggart back into the cabinet before Hermione had been able to see what his spell had turned her into.

"I- Professor Snape." Hermione's voice wavered.

The Professor turned to her slowly and looked at her as though he could see her every secret laid out on a table before him.

"Run along, Miss Granger." He drawled. "I'm sure you've seen what you came for."

Hermione left the room so fast she didn't even answer the man.

Oh, god. Oh god, oh god, oh god. The Gryffindor's head was spinning. Had he seen? Had her DADA Professor seen her kissing the image of her worst fear?

Oh god, oh god.

"Hey, Hermione."

Oh GOD.

"Do you want to-"

"Not right now, Luna." Hermione managed, not stopping to look at the blonde.

"Okay." The small reply came from behind her.

Hermione finally collapsed on the grassy bank outside, overlooking Hagrid's hut in the morning sun. She slowly caught her breath as she lay back on her elbows, staring up at the sky.

Oh god, Hermione.