A/N: This is an idea I had after reading a couple of fics. This one is based on a story I read a while back, not sure of the title. This is a Harry/Girl!Harry pairing. This may be offensive to some people, but give it a chance. It's not slash, by the way, all het. I may make this a full length story if the reviews are supportive. But for now, it will be a One-Shot. Read on…

Disclaimer: I have no claim on Harry Potter.

Across the Mirror

Only Sirius and Bellatrix were still fighting. They didn't seem to have noticed the arrival of Dumbledore. Sirius ducked the red light that shot from Bellatrix's wand. He laughed and egged her on.

"Come on, surely you can do better than that!"

A second jet of red light hit Sirius on the chest. He only had time to adopt a surprised expression before he gracefully sank through the veil…

"Sirius!" Harry woke up with a start, his breath ragged, body slick with sweat. The unmistakable coppery taste of blood reached his bleary brain; he must have bitten his tongue. Spitting out the crimson liquid, he looked over to his clock.

Three in the morning.

Head clearing slightly, he headed over to the bathroom. He looked in the mirror and saw a defeated Harry Potter looking back at him. He had been tossing and turning since nine, when he had turned in, only to wake up in the dream that tore at his conscience, haunting every moment of his waking life. Halfway through his sixth year, Harry had managed to get over the dream, but it came back every so often. It was futile to get any sleep tonight.

Grabbing some extra clothes, he took a quick shower. Coming out, he dressed and made his way to the common room, invisibility cloak and Marauder's Map in hand. This had become a nightly ritual for Harry lately. Whenever he couldn't sleep, he explored the massive castle that was Hogwarts.

He had quickly noticed that the map charted nowhere near the entire castle. Much of the ancient fortress was unused, abandoned and forgotten. Filthy hallways plunged in darkness held testaments to the past, sinister portraits lining the walls. Grimy floors were covered in a blanket of dust.

Harry had discovered many classrooms that hadn't seen humans in centuries, textbooks detailing forgotten, or as Harry had quickly come to learn, illegal magic. Apparently the instruction of the Dark Arts had once been a part of Hogwarts, part of its shunned past. But now, all that was left were the tomes lining the shelves of the classrooms that Harry explored.

Stepping out of the portrait, he made his way to the third floor. The third floor was the largest of all the floors, but it had for the most part been abandoned. It held little in the way of classrooms, instead serving as storage. Placed half-hazardly in the halls were statues of fearsome vampires, dragons, and other such dark creatures. In a storeroom he had even come upon a life-sized sculpture of a dementor. He shuddered. The stone piece of art also replicated the vile creature's aura, albeit weaker.

So it was with good reason Dumbledore had hidden the stone on this floor – it was dark, dusty, mostly unlit, and had enough twists and turns to rival the maze in the third task. One could easily get lost in the pitch black that dominated most of the area.

Passing a portrait of a manticore slaughtering a village, he stopped. The rest of the hall was bathed in complete darkness. Lifting his wand, he whispered an incantation.


A thin beam of light shot out of his wand, dispelling the black shroud that hid the rest of the corridor. The rough granite walls extended forward several feet, but came to an abrupt end. Studying the dull grey wall that ended the passageway, he discovered a faint outline. Moving closer, he traced the rectangular crack in the coarse rock with his hand. He blinked. It was a door.

He tried pushing on it without success. Casting a silencing charm on the entire corridor, he hit the rock in front of him with several unlocking spells without avail. Furrowing his eyebrows, he contemplated the mysterious door. Had he not studied the wall up close, he would have passed off the cracks as natural. But they were too perfectly cut to be natural. What could possibly be behind it?

He decided to look around for clues. Perhaps the door had a hidden switch? He scanned the walls on his sides until he noticed a portrait of a snake, lion, badger, and an eagle guarding what seemed to be weapons, dark artifacts, and various treasures from a group of gathering students. He watched in fascination as a figure in black stepped away from the crowd and pushed in a hidden square block in the wall in front of the guards. The animals vanished and the students raided the treasures.

A smile graced his lips. It was ingenious. Looking back at the wall, he looked for a square block. He found it moments later. It seemed like it was only possible to see the block after viewing it in the painting. Pushing it in, he was rewarded with the door sliding back, revealing a pitch black corridor.

Stepping forward, he brought his wand up to examine the place. It was a very narrow passage, as narrow as the door. The rock above him was low, a few inches above his head. Heavy, moist air filled his lungs as he walked forward, every step kicking dust up in the air, visible in the wandlight. After a tense ten minutes of walking in complete silence, he reached a stairway. Quickly making his way downwards, he came upon a round antechamber.

The air here had cleared noticeably, lacking the oppressive quality the passageway above had. The stones were still moist, however, and the ground was damp.

Looking around, he saw that there were nine hallways leading out of the antechamber. He took off his cloak and placed at the entrance to the antechamber lest he get lost. Bringing his wand up, he peered down the length of all of them. Nearly all of them led downwards. The last one however, ended a short distance away with a door. Not in the mood to walk anymore, he headed down the last one.

He came upon a heavy wooden door. It was completely blank with the exception of a carving near the top. Focusing the shaft of light on it, he studied the seemingly random marks on the wood. There were dots connected by lines. It looked like a constellation. Searching his mind, he recognized it. It was the constellation of Gemini. Unable to control his curiosity any longer, he pushed the door open and entered.

Stepping into the pitch-blackness, he looked around cautiously, checking for any dangers. The stupidity of his whole situation hit him at that moment. He was walking into an unknown, dark area that was guarded against to ensure the student's safety. Alone.

Perhaps Snape was right, he was arrogant and brash.

But he wasn't about to leave now, go back to sleep…to Sirius. His heart clenched painfully at the thought of his godfather. Taking a deep breath, he summoned all his famed Gryffindor courage and took a step ahead. Reinforcing his light with yet another whispered 'lumos', he continued. His wand lit the darkness around him in a circle of dull-grey, paved stone. He walked shakily forward, checking his surroundings until he felt the darkness lighten up ahead. Continuing at an increased pace, he noticed small candles that began to line to walls on either side of him. Extinguishing his light, he walked on. Suddenly, he stepped out of the corridor into a small chamber, half the size of a classroom. It was lit by a few weakly flickering candles.

But there was one glimmer that penetrated the darkness in the damp room, an unnatural shard of light that caught his attention. He took a sharp breath as he recognized the object at the back of the room. The ornate gold feet, the tall, lustrous gold frame - and of course, the glass. The luminous glass reflected nothing at the moment, its surface a rippling silver mass.

"Erised," he whispered.

The mirror gleamed, as if in response.

He stood there for a few moments, in disbelief. But he felt a deep longing, an almost carnal need to see what Erised would show him now. He stepped forward, wondering what he would see now, five years after his initial encounter. His parents. Or, perhaps, Sirius. Yes, definitely Sirius…

But as Harry stepped close, his heart pounding in his chest, he saw –


Emerald eyes stared back at him. He stepped back in shock. Remembering what Dumbledore said, he was sure that he was not the happiest man in the world.

So why was it showing him without any desires? He ran his hand through his hair in frustration. He watched as his reflection did the same. Heart still pounding, he took a closer look at the mirror, studying its frame, the glass, its back. As he walked back to the front of it, he realized something. The words around the frame weren't the same.

Immediately his wand was in his hand, clenched tightly in his fist. This wasn't the Mirror of Erised. He traced his hand along the words around the frame.

Erised had the inscription 'Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi'. In reverse, it read 'I show not your face but you hearts desire.'

This mirror, however, read 'Etisoppo dna lauqe esoht tub dlrow ro ecaf ruoy ton woshi'

Harry reversed the words in his head.

"I show not your face or world but those equal and opposite," he read, voice soft. Equal and Opposite? He walked back in front of the mirror and froze.

Where the mirror reflected him before stood a girl. A rather beautiful one at that. He stood there gaping. The girl had long black hair, creamy white skin, and emerald eyes. Even stranger was the fact that the girl was not mimicking his actions. In fact, she was standing there, her arms folded, an amused look on her face. On her forehead was…the scar. The same lighting bolt scar that marked his forehead was also present on the girl's, albeit much lighter and nearly invisible. Oddly enough, it seemed to add to her beauty, rather than detract from it.

'Equal and Opposite…?

The girl stepped forward, placing her hands on the mirror, her emerald eyes gleaming with eagerness. Eyes so much like his own, yet different. They were as green as his, but were nowhere near as hesitant.

Harry unconsciously stepped forward, putting his hands on the glass, covering the girl's.

The glass gave off a soft ripple. He felt the glass grow warm under his palms, becoming softer. Looking back up at the girl, he saw a curious expression on her face, one that was suddenly replaced by determination. Her hands came alive, locking into his. The glass rippled around her fingers, sending off little waves. He felt himself pull her from the mirror. The girl came through and looked at her surroundings. Letting his hands go, she stepped up to him and gave him a searching gaze.

Harry stared back, in shock, unable to think.

The girl gave a soft melodious chuckle that broke Harry from his stupor. He tightened his hand on his wand, stepping back. Harry saw a deep hunger in her eyes, like a huntress gazing at her prey.

"Who…who are you?" Harry managed, face one of suspicion. His scar was giving off a curious buzz, albeit a pleasant one…

The girl gave him one of his own lop sided grins before answering.

"I…am you."

Harry blinked. Him? Sure, she looked like a bit like him, she even had the trademark scar, but he was a guy. The figure in front of him was not.

She seemed to pick up on this. Giving him a disturbing predatory smile, she stepped forward, eyes shining in anticipation.

"I am you, your equal and opposite," she whispered. Placing her hand on his cheek, he stiffened. She ignored him and started caressing the side of his face.

"So beautiful…" she murmured, eyes raking over his face and body, startling Harry. He blushed deeply. He'd never thought of himself as…well, anything. He was never one to comment on beauty, let alone himself.

She smiled at his blush. She looked up, emerald eyes meeting perfect replicas. Harry felt distinctly uncomfortable as they searched him, seemingly reaching into his soul, uncovering his every secret. Her hot breath brushed over his face, causing him to shiver. Noticing this, she smirked and brought her other hand up, holding his face in both hands. She leaned in, whispering into his ear.

"So sad, so defeated…what have they done to my Harry?" she breathed. Harry shivered again at her use of the possessive. She pulled away and started walking around him, hands brushing over his body. She took his arm, and brought it up to her face. Pulling the sleeve back, she traced the scar made by the basilisk with a single finger slowly, taking in all the details. The contact was sending tingles throughout his body and his heartbeat quickened. Cocking her head, she dropped it and put her arms on Harry's chest.

Leaning forward, she put her ear against his heart and closed her eyes. Harry felt the warmth of the body pressed up against him, so familiar, yet so different. It was…comfortable in a way he couldn't put his finger on. Harry's other self had apparently noticed too, as she pressed herself tighter against his body. She had closed her eyes, basking in the warmth provided by him. They both stood there pressed against each other, breaths synchronized, hearts beating simultaneously.

Harry felt a haze come over his mind. He felt lost in the warm feeling that enveloped his mind and body. He welcomed, letting it wash over him. But something like fear started to wind through the haze, penetrating his mind. Something like whats happening who what where when why - and Harry pulled away, not suddenly but slowly, his mind and body slowed by the thick fog that blanketed his senses.

The girl, his other self, looked up at Harry, looking slightly put out at losing Harry's proximity. Her face changed into the familiar hunger, the animalistic desire he had seen before. She moved forward again, pushing Harry into the wall with almost supernatural strength. Harry was too startled to do anything to retaliate, so he looked on as she placed her hands on his abdomen, slipping them under his shirt. Tracing his defined abs with a light touch, she grinned up at him.

"Playing quidditch as well?" Her hands moved upwards, tracing his nipples, circling them. Harry melted into her ministrations with a slight moan. She leaned in again, this time nibbling at the bottom of his ear before moving onto his neck. She could feel his heart rate increasing, his breath irregular. She stopped slowly, almost lazily and looked into the eyes of her counterpart, taking in the sigh that he gave when she had reached the nape of his neck.

"Beautiful," his counterpart murmured again and she pressed up against him once more. She moved her lips over his gently, softly brushing back and forth, back and forth until Harry was dizzy.

He felt the haze taking over his senses once again, enveloping him in a warm blanket. It was like a missing toy long gone that had been returned. He felt complete, more than complete, content. But the fear returned, once again worming through the dull barrier that surrounded his mind. He broke off the kiss, looking at the flushed face of his other.

"Wha…what are you doing?" he managed, his breath ragged. Why was his voice so husky?

She gave him a mysterious smile, and replied in her captivating musical voice.

"Why, I'm kissing you of course," she said matter-of-factly. She pressed herself against Harry once more, her pelvis grinding into his. He felt himself responding to her touch. Somehow, he couldn't bring himself to care anymore. Her face lit up at his response, and she attacked his lips with a new fervor.

She placed a hand on his scar and traced it back and forth. The normally painful mark was extremely sensitive, and the touch from his other sent tingles of pleasure throughout his body. He moaned again in her lips, before breaking off once more. He tilted his head toward hers, looking deep into her eyes. Using legilmency, he willed himself in, into her mind.

He was suddenly overcome with emotions, feelings, and desires. He drowned himself in the swirling maelstrom of pleasure, warmth, and euphoria that was not his. He saw as though far away, him kissing himself, hands still caressing the scar, and his own exploding with pleasure, sending waves of ecstasy down his body. He realized with a start that he was seeing things from her eyes.

Withdrawing, he found himself on top of his other, sprawled on the ground. She stared back at him, pupils dilated, her breath ragged. The scars had created a feedback loop between them, amplifying sensations. She met her unfocussed eyes with his, giving off a silent 'oh'. Harry was suddenly turned over, finding himself on the bottom. His counterpart captured his mouth in another fierce kiss, sending his mind back into the haze. She pressed herself against him tightly, enveloping both of them in the beckoning warmth. Her lips still locked into his, she moved her hands through his messy hair, massaging his scalp and rubbing behind his ears. Harry closed his eyes against the sensations. She knew best on how to please Harry Potter.

Harry responded by driving his tongue into her mouth, meeting a familiar entity there. The two equals proceeded to engage in a war, elevating the burning kiss. She broke off first, ripping his clothes off violently. He reacted similarly, tearing off her clothes as well.

Mouth met mouth, skin met skin, and they rolled across the cold stone ground, oblivious to the outside world. Soon they were panting together, each touch, each sensation amplified. Harry felt his other on him, and him on her, his thrusting into his counterpart, and her receiving him. It was a cacophony of sensation, blinding them.

It was intoxicating, perfect. Every contour fit, made for each other. Fierce kisses were given, each gasp, moan, and wave of pleasure echoing in their minds. It was symmetry, unity…utopia.

Deep in the thick fog that blanketed their minds, Harry registered a surge of feeling manifesting, his own, hers, ours as the sweaty bodies moved together. They quickened the pace and held on.

The surge broke, and the feelings crashed over them, looping through the scar connection. Stars exploded in his eyes, and Harry nearly blacked out from the sheer intensity. In that moment, they were one. It was bliss. Almost cruelly, they were torn apart when the climax ended.

Harry awoke hours later, something warm in his arms. He was sitting against the wall, with his other straddling his waist, arms and legs wrapped around him. Her head was nestled deep into his neck, hair falling over his chest. Their damp, bare bodies were covered in a hastily conjured rough blanket.

He sighed in contentment, numb in the warm haze. It was more intense however, unlike before. It wasn't the towering highs of an orgasm, nor was it the electrifying pleasure of the Dark Arts. It was like being smothered in a blanket of security, euphoria, belonging, stability, happiness, and freedom. Tightening his hold on his counterpart, his other, his self, he fell back into peaceful slumber.

When he opened his eyes again, he felt empty, but oddly at peace. She was gone. Looking back at the mirror, he caught the flowing of a cloak and billowing ebony hair before it disappeared behind a tall wooden door.

Getting up, he picked up his wand, moving to the neat stack of clothes on his left. On top of it sat a short note written in elegant writing, opposite of his own. Reading it, he smiled.

Putting on his clothes, he took one last look at the mirror before he left, shutting the door behind him.

Harry stumbled into the Common Room just as Ron and Seamus had finished a game of Exploding Snap. Taking one look at his flushed face, Ron chuckled.

"Well, you had a good night. Who was it?" he asked, amused. Harry's eyes got a far off look and he gave a small smile.

"Someone who understands," he replied. And with that, he went into the dorm for a few more hours of sleep. Ron and Seamus looked at each other puzzled.

Because in the end, only Harry Potter could ever understand Harry Potter.