Secrets and Smiles

We all have secrets, and mine is tearing me apart. My secret is such a secret that I didn't even realise it myself, I had buried it so far down that I was no longer conscious of it. But once the desire was released, I became obsessed with the idea and could no longer think of anything else. It was consuming me. I was terrified, terrified that my husband would find out. A proper pure-blood which does not have such secret desires. No, a pure-blooded witch marries a pure-blood wizard and dutifully produces children to raise into proper wizards and witches.

It all began a year ago. I returned to Hogwarts, seeking employment as the position of transfiguration teaching opened up. The job was competitive, and several people I recognised from my school days were present. A Slytherin boy in the year below who I never knew his name, a blonde girl from Ravenclaw I vaguely remembered from Quidditch matches, usually sporting a ridiculous lion hat, and Vincent Crabbe, Merlin knows what he hoped to achieve from this. We were instructed to wait outside the Headmistress' office as the interviews were conducted individually. Chairs were summoned to make the hall comfortable, and I sat down, pulling out my parchment where I had written notes for my interview.

A humming sound left me unable to concentrate however, and I angrily looked up. The sound was coming from the blonde girl, who was sporting some sort of odd blue glasses and staring dreamily into space, a half-smile on her lips. I was stuck with a desire to laugh at how out of place her behaviour was, in a hall full of nervous people waiting for an interview with the Headmistress. As if she could read my mind, she looked up at me and her blue eyes met my own. A strange feeling rose inside me and I looked away, feeling my cheeks redden. It was because of nerves, I told myself, this is an important day after all; I really wanted the job as I hated sitting at home whilst my husband worked and provided for us.

Her name, Luna, is called, and I sit back comfortably on my seat, relieved she had gone but at the same time disappointed. I looked back down at the notes in my lap and concentrate on them, a frown forming as I found it difficult to read them. Eventually my name was called, and I rose carefully from my seat, smoothing down my smart robes. I passed the girl in the hallway and avoided her gaze that I could feel on me, but I couldn't stop myself from hearing her whisper of "Good luck" as I passed. I do not acknowledge her presence, as if she were a mere house elf like the ones my parents keep at our manor.

Twenty five minutes later, and the interview is finally over. The Headmistress bids me good day and says she will be in touch soon. Evaluating my performance in my head, I wandered towards the entrance hall so I can have a drink in Hogsmeade before returning home. Not paying attention, I found myself in a disused classroom, but not a normal classroom – there was a large, ornate mirror in the middle of it, writing carved along the top of the frame. Confused, I approach the mirror, only to jump back in shock when I see not only myself reflected in the dirty glass, but someone else, a blonde haired someone else who there was no mistaking. Her odd glasses were absent, and her usual vacant look was replaced by a smile that lit up her whole face. I double take when I see our hands intertwined. I glance up at the writing, deciphering it easily from my experience of completing puzzles and codes with my father when I was little.

I turn on my heel and run, as if I could escape the thoughts now in my head.

Eventually I made it to the village and I enter the Three Broomsticks, desperately needing a drink, only to feel my heart flip as I see the girl sitting alone in the corner. After my experience in the mirror, I can't stop myself from going over to her, even though my head screams at me not to. I introduce myself to her and apologize for ignoring her, which she dismisses with a wave of her hand. She babbles on about something called Wrackspurts and I have no idea what she is talking about, but listen intently any way, watching her lips as she speaks and wondering what it would feel like to touch them. We stay until the pub closes, I don't care that my husband is waiting for me at home, the dinner he made would be long cold and the candles burnt down as he sits up waiting for me.

Eventually I returned home to my husband, but as he kissed me goodnight all I could think of was dirty blonde hair and pink lips.

This was written for the Word Count Challenge on HPFC. My wordcount was 850 (this is 842!) and I use the prompts: Luna/Astoria, Vincent Crabbe, "We all have secrets", and the Mirror of Erised.