The Reflection


She stared at the intricate carvings that decorated the smooth wood, memorizing every line. Her gaze moved to the glass, watching as the woman began to take shape. Happiness shone through her, every nuance of feeling written clearly in the chocolate eyes. As she watched, a handsome man stepped into view. It was then tears blurred her vision, but she didn’t need it. She didn’t need to see the love in his silver eyes, the way his strong hands lovingly held the woman, so gently it would have appeared that she was made from the rarest china, the soft smile playing on his sensual lips, the same lips that tenderly brushed against hers.

A tear fell onto the wooden floor.

The woman’s hands, so like her own, crept upwards to brush against his jaw. His own hands dropped to encircle her hips. They were so perfect together; it was as if they were made for each other. The man lifted his lips from the woman’s, and brushed a soft kiss on her nose, another in her hair. Both turned to look at her, smiling softly, completely at peace. Their serene faces seemed to mock her, taunt her for not having what they had. The love, the laughter, she had none of it. Unable to resist, her gaze returned to him once again. Her heart clenched in despair at the softness in his eyes, knowing that it would never be for her.

She was a fool. It had taken her so long to realize that she had been deluding herself all this while. He did not love her. He never did. He never will. The injustice of it all caused a dry sob to well up inside her. Looking at them standing side by side, their fingers linked, she was instantly reminded of the day she found out that he had captured her heart. She had no idea how long she had loved him. It had been the most natural thing in the world. She had nursed him after each transformation, teased him into laughing during his occasional bouts of depression, stood by him when confronted by a bitter Snape. She had been his friend, his confidant, his savior from the darkness.

But never his lover.

She recalled the day she had admitted her true feelings for him, tentatively opening her heart to him. She had known the answer before he had uttered the words. The look of regret in his eyes had spoken what his heart held within. She had never really gotten over the rejection, the ultimate humiliation. For months, she had nursed her battered heart, wondering what she had done wrong. It never occurred to her that someone else had claimed his heart.

He had been bound to one, and one alone. The hurt she had felt at his rejection was nothing compared to the pain at seeing him with another. Watching them together, she had realized that he had never been happier. Part of her had raged and grieved at the loss. The other part simply felt nothing. At first, she had dared to hope that he would change his mind, or realize that she was indeed the one for him, but that moment never came. Unrequited love had changed her life. He had changed her life. She couldn’t escape from the clutches of her own heart, her own soul.

She had been standing there, gazing at the mirror, swamped by bittersweet memories of him when she heard distant footsteps. Jerking out of her reverie, she spun around and hid behind one of the dusty crates that littered the small room. To her horror, a familiar dark figure swept past her. Peeking over the top of the box, she stared lovingly at his tall frame, wishing for the thousandth time that she had his love. A thought occured to her. He was probably here to wait for her. A midnight tryst, no doubt. Her face hardened in bitter resentment at the absent woman. It was immediately accompanied by the naked pain in her heart that had nothing to do with the woman, but had everything to do with him. Noting that his attention was focused on the mirror, she silently left, unable to bear the sight of them together.

Had she stayed a little while longer, she would have seen him lift the hood over his tousled hair and look into the mirror towering over him. He stood there motionless, like a stone statue of some Greek God. For the second time that night, another image shimmered into view.

What none of them knew was that the second image was no different from the first.