Hey Everyone, just letting you know I have no affiliation what-so-ever with the Harry Potter books - just the ridiculous story-line is mine :) This story contains adult themes, if you don't like, please don't read!
"You have got to be kidding me." The exasperation in Hermione's voice couldn't be heard over the spur-of-the-moment wind storm which had kicked up from nowhere. Hermione grumbled as she rubbed her frost-bitten hands together; which ended up being a futile gesture as it only created a meagre amount of warmth.
So far a hail storm had pelted down on her between shelters, then a bus sleeted dirty snow so she was officially soaked; and a chill of epic proportions was settling in her chest. To top off her day though, she'd slipped over twice on the icy pavement - each time landing on her derrière. Rubbing it absently, she could already feel a lump forming.
It was one of the chilliest days in London's history, which meant it was a perfect day to pick out a new Port-Key from the Ministry supply shop in Diagon Alley - Keymosabe. Her boss - Louis, had Owled her earlier in the week, saying she needed to upgrade her localised Port-Key for new missions – by Friday, no later. Hermione's old one was beginning to lose commands, and she had some important operations coming up. Hence the shopping trip in near arctic conditions. Pulling up her jacket collar to hide her pink cheeks from the harsh wind, she surmised that hell could never be the hot fiery pit it was portrayed as. The cold would be much more brutal to fragile human bodies.
At least she was alone today, no-one from the Ministry was breathing down her neck. Even though they had won the war almost a decade earlier, the Ministry still had close tabs on all the 'heroes'. Harry turned out to be a brilliant Auror - no surprise there; it was almost as foretold as his defeat of Voldemort. Ron had strangely enough become a talent scout for English Quidditch players - a job he relished as he couldn't play for quids, but had the amazing ability to sense talent in others. And Hermione…well Hermione became an undercover agent for the Ministry's Covert Operations Team – or COT. The Wizarding world thought she was one of many English Magical Ambassadors for the Ministry, fluffing about with dinners and meetings – Hermione loathed public gatherings and was glad she was obligated to attend only six a year. COT was an elite group of Witches and Wizards who were at the forefront of keeping the English Wizarding Society safe from outside attacks of any description. Each operative worked singularly, which was ideal for Hermione; she was a perfectionist and being saddled with a partner wouldn't fit into her plans. Alone was how she liked it, in not only her career but also her private life. She didn't even own a cactus.
So lost in her thoughts was she, Hermione didn't spy the unwelcome fellow shopper until they were almost upon her. She immediately berated herself for letting her guard down. Hermione hoped they would continue on their way, yet they circled her once; then stopped directly in-front of her. She exhaled a tight breath between her teeth when she realised he wasn't going to move.
"Why, Granger, that's an interesting smear covering the back of your jacket. I didn't realise Versace had a new line of dirty-chic out?"
Hermione turned what she hoped was a scornful look towards the bane of her existence. It made no difference; he continued to stand arrogantly before her. His left eyebrow lifted in amusement as he leaned around and blatantly checked out her backside. His scrutiny made her uncomfortable, which in turn made her angry; what did she care what he thought?
"Malfoy, never a pleasure…as usual."
"Oh, come now. It's always a pleasure when I'm involved." Draco's mouth twisted in a smirk - Hermione pointedly ignored the small gesture. She was becoming a master at disregarding his expressions, years of practise made it easier.
"You're right, I have heard the rumours; you're always involved in pleasuring yourself."
Hermione felt a moment of satisfaction as his mouth turned down while he figured out what she had implied. But before she could turn on her heel and enter the nearest shop, she felt her foot slip on the icy sidewalk. Oh God no, not in front of him. Anyone but Draco sodden Malfoy.
As she fell, Hermione flailed out like a graceless duck, managing at the last second to grip something as she went down. With a horrific rip, she landed at Draco's feet holding his pocket in one hand, and failing miserably at holding her dignity in the other. Draco looked down in surprise at first; then a demonic scowl overtook him as he gritted his teeth. Hermione could almost hear them grind from her rather undignified position on the sidewalk.
"Do you realise, Granger, this jacket costs more than you make in a month?"
Hermione gulped loudly and shut her eyes in a futile attempt to block Malfoy's livid expression out. With a bit of luck, he would self combust in anger and disappear with a puff of smoke. She peered up through a half opened eye. He was still there; looking angrier than before. Damn it.
Draco was somehow under the misguided notion he was superior to most mere mortals. Conceitedness like his took many years to perfect, and now at almost thirty - he'd nailed it. The only thing Hermione had managed to nail over the last ten years; was making sure her books were back to the library on time. Well, almost always on time; okay her late fees had at least been halved in the last year.
Realising she was sitting on the wet sidewalk with a blank expression - not unlike a shop mannequin, she scrabbled for something witty and non-threatening to say. She heard him exhale like she was a moron; which she probably was – but he needn't bring attention to it. Hermione felt herself flush in anger; there was only one thing for it. She had to goad her way out of the situation, see how he liked being on the receiving end of ire. To apologise would be to show weakness – something Malfoy would take great pleasure in exploiting.
"Merlin, why would you wear something like that in public then? Shouldn't it be in a vault somewhere? Hang on; we're on the same salary, Malfoy. Why on earth would you spend that much on such an ugly coat? I can tell you, I have nicer things to spend my pay-check on."
His face hardened, and she swore steam emitted from his nostrils; he was that ticked off. Satisfaction, hot and sweet curled deep within her; yet, the manners her parents had instilled from birth fought to ask if she could pay to get his coat repaired. Though something inside of her demanded she remain quiet. Hermione couldn't afford to be nice to Malfoy, literally or financially.
"Ugly? Coming from you in your bargain bin monstrosity, that's rich. This is Hugo Boss'." His sneer was still firmly in place, much to her dismay. He wasn't going to drop this easily. But, when had dealing with Malfoy ever been easy? She'd been trying for years now, and nothing had changed. Against her better judgement she snapped back at him.
"Well, I don't care who it used to belong to, it's still hideous. He obviously had no taste either."
Draco snorted in derision; then held out his hand towards her. Hermione blinked slowly a few times to make sure the proffered hand was not a joke. Maybe she had misjudged him. Holding hers out in response, she felt a breeze as Draco strode past her into the shop; leaving her stranded on the wet sidewalk. She noticed he had ripped the pocket from her hand.
"You…you, bloody prat." Hermione spluttered at the empty doorway; then groaned as she realised he had just stepped inside Keymosabe – the very place she needed to go. Crap.
Gingerly, she managed to get to her feet without looking completely useless. This was no mean feat when everything had a layer of thin ice on it, and your buttocks were screaming blue murder at you. What she really craved was a hot bath with a glass of white wine balancing on the side. Then she could forget about her run-in with the biggest pillock this side of the Thames. But she needed to purchase a new Port-Key, and they only opened their doors late afternoon. So ignoring the warning bells peeling madly in her head, she followed Malfoy inside.
Keymosabe looked exactly like an antique shop, one which consisted of four large rooms - each smelling as musty as the next. Although it was the aroma of old leather and books which made Hermione inhale deeply. A smile spread across her face as she fingered small trinkets which once belonged to some of the most powerful wizarding families in the country. An old hairbrush and mirror set caught her eye and she headed over to look at it properly.
She was stalling, and it annoyed her. The industrial Port-Keys she needed were in the back room, they were the sturdy multiple use ones – with a thousand or more Ports available on them. The ones in the front of shop were generally for single use only.
Hermione's usual Gryffindor courage had taken flight today. She figured Malfoy was at Keymosabe's for the same reason as her, and she was trying not to run into him more than she had to. He'd most probably pull a mace from the wall and embed it in her skull if he saw her again. She felt her face flame red as she replayed the rip of his coat in her mind. Why was she only ever incompetent and clumsy around him? It was downright exasperating.
"Can I help you, Miss Granger?" A kind voice interrupted her musings.
A small plump man with wire rimmed glasses walked gently up to her, his hands clasped together and cheeks pink. Hermione smiled warmly at him.
"Hello Manfred. It's so nice to see you again."
Manfred smiled genuinely at her; then proceeded to grill her about her lack of love life – berating her for not having a lover. Hermione flushed red. The thing about Manfred was; he was known as a ruthless awful man who treated Ministry employees with disdain and overcharged them grossly for his wares. But by some miracle, Hermione had won him over a few years ago, so she now had to put up with his invasive questioning – or else suffer his horrendous attitude and tripled prices. For some reason Manfred had taken it upon himself to be her personal love guru as he couldn't understand why Hermione wasn't in love and happy. She tried not to think about the reasons why she wasn't. Sighing inwardly she realised it could have been worse than Manfred's questions; she might have to be polite to Malfoy instead. Staving off a shudder, Hermione had to stop Manfred from talking about her, and there was only one subject he enjoyed more.
"Is the family well?"
His face lit up while he told her in detail how his Aunt Stella had fallen and broken her hip, and how Skele-Gro reacted badly with her bones. Hermione nodded and smiled politely; glad the topic was off of her dismal lack of partners. It's not like she never dated - just not Wizards. They all knew her, and wanted the notoriety of dating the famed Hermione Granger. So, she dated Muggles. Well, if she was honest - she slept with them – okay, two of them; it was a little bleak in retrospect. It was impossible to have a true relationship with someone when you couldn't tell them what you were at heart. Strangely it never usually bothered her in the slightest – only when Manfred questioned her. Feeling an unwelcome lump in her chest, Hermione interrupted Manfred's new spiel on his Cousin Agnes's bunions.
"Actually, Manfred - I'm searching for a new Port-Key. I'm after an ornate mirror for my bedroom. The last Key was a book – and I kept misplacing it. Something bigger would be perfect. Plus I'd prefer something with a bit of history, a story even."
Manfred stared intently at her for a moment, his look unreadable. Hermione couldn't figure out whether she'd said something to offend him. Maybe she should have listened about the bunions? Oh god, would she have to bring it up again? Hermione mentally slapped herself, of course not – Manfred was a professional, and he needed the sale. He looked over his shoulder towards the next room, and Hermione swore a smile passed over his face. It was gone before she could really tell though.
"Ah, I may have one or two mirrors which could be suitable. I have just been showing them to another customer. They're in the next room." He pointed to the doorway at the far end of the shop. "Go on through and see if there's anything you'd like for your bedroom in there. Call me if you need assistance."
Hermione frowned slightly; Malfoy was most likely the other customer; and he would definitely not be welcome in her bedroom. Suddenly a mental picture of him propped up on her bed wearing nothing but a smile, made her falter. Where the hell did that thought come from? Shaking her head, she looked back at Manfred. Yes, there was definitely a small smile gracing his lips. What was going on?
"Are there any unsecured maces back there?" He frowned at her, and she shook her head, and walked towards the door. "Never-mind. I'll take my chances."
Hermione's eyes rested on the perfect mirror almost immediately. It was freestanding with a golden frame. The small patterned leaves which were carved around the edges, gave it a whimsical look. Hermione almost clapped her hands together in excitement. It was perfect for her room. She strode towards it, and as her hand touched the frame, someone else grabbed the other side.
"Let go, Granger. I saw this first." Silver eyes clashed with chocolate ones. Sparks ignited between the two of them, tangible in the small space.
Anger bubbled up, she was sick to death of him getting his own way at work. Today she would make sure it turned out differently. "Oh, no you don't, Malfoy. I was here first; this is my Port-Key. It will go perfectly in my unit. You only want it because I do."
Malfoy dropped his hand; a look of utter distaste appeared on his aristocratic face.
"Why on earth, would I want anything you do? Your taste is usually atrocious. I can only imagine what a horrific life this beautiful Port-Key would have amongst all your junky furniture. It would be much better off in Malfoy Manor."
Hermione snorted in anger, which only made Malfoy's sneer widen. Why was it, Malfoy could make her feel so uncouth and inferior; no matter the situation. He had an extraordinary ability for riling her up, and it never ceased to amuse him. What she really loathed; was that it actually got to her and she reacted - every-time.
He was the only one in the entire COT team who rubbed her up the wrong way. Actually he rubbed her up, down and sideways in frustration and had been doing so for six long years now. Thank Merlin he wasn't her boss; they were equal to a certain degree - the top two operatives in the team.
Draco didn't really need to work, the Malfoy coffers ran deep. But, he seemed to get some sort of satisfaction working at the Ministry. He even went undercover in the Muggle world for six months. It must have been where he discovered the love of Muggle designers and fancy electronic gadgets. Malfoy grabbed for the mirror again, bursting Hermione's thoughts.
"Hey. I said, let go." She was ashamed to hear a slight girly whine in her voice.
Malfoy completely ignored her like usual, and picked it up. Hermione then did something she knew should make her feel ashamed for the rest of her life; but secretly loved doing. She threw herself at him. Literally. Malfoy didn't expect a physical attack, and promptly dropped the mirror in surprise. Fortunately it didn't break; it landed with a thump as Malfoy hit the ground with Hermione right on top of him.
All the air whooshed out of him in one breath as his face turned red. Hermione's forehead hit his chin, making him roar in pain; or maybe it was anger. She hoped she wouldn't suffer a black eye, or more importantly, have Draco's tooth embedded in her head.
Malfoy's arms involuntary came up to capture her, snaking tight around her waist. For a split second she enjoyed the feeling of being held, no matter how unorthodox the situation. After a moment, she found it hard to ignore the muscular body she was sprawled across; made only worse by the fact that it was Malfoy. She shouldn't entertain any indecent thoughts about him – ever. He was the kind of person who would sense it, therefore gaining ammunition in which to taunt her. Traitorously though, Hermione's body noticed his warmth. He was much warmer and solid than she thought humanly possible. Somehow she envisioned Malfoy to be cold blooded, and soft.
Hermione realised after a minute, that he still hadn't let go of her waist. She couldn't help but wonder if she'd stunned him into , she'd be in more trouble than Hitler if the golden boy of COT was injured by her hands. Her boss, Louis would be the first in line to throttle her. She still didn't see why he was so popular. He was an arse.
Maybe she could try and imagine it was someone else whom she tried to kill. Looking up, she saw the distinct blondness of Malfoy instead. He looked down and their eyes locked. Funny how she'd never noticed that through his silver irises, flecks of gold danced…. damn it; this was no time for her overactive imagination to kick in. He was an enemy of sorts, not an attractive suitor to lust over. Lust; hang on, who mentioned lust? Oh crap, she did. Suddenly he tensed underneath her, as if realising their position for the first time. Hermione ignored the tightness in her belly that his movement caused.
"Granger, you…daft twat. What the hell are you doing? Trying to impale me on a shard of glass? You're a damn nutter." His voice was strained as he came to grips with the situation.
Malfoy shoved her to the side and got up so quickly she almost snapped her neck. He stood for a moment wiping his jacket as if he could get rid of germs. Wait a minute; that would be her germs, insulting bastard. His hand ghosted over the missing pocket and he glared down at her again. Before she could cry out in indignation, she saw a flash of light in the corner of her eye. She jumped up and spun around, only to see their reflection in the mirror, nothing else. She could have sworn the glow came from there. Frowning, she turned back to her extremely furious co-worker and proverbial pain in her butt.
"I'm not crazy, Malfoy; I just really want that particular Port-Key."
He took one step forward which was supposed to be menacing, but seemed a little ridiculous to her. No way did she find Malfoy intimidating, well, not really. He was so close; her nose almost touched his neck - his strong muscular neck. The spicy scent he favoured washed over Hermione, making her catch her breath. She loathed admitting it, but Dunhill had always been a favourite of hers. Every time she smelt it, her stomach went funny; unfortunately he was the only man she knew who wore it. Which was the one and only reason Malfoy's close proximity was making her insides flip-flop. She took half a step back, gazing up into his grey eyes, which were currently slitted in rage. She saw another spark and this time Malfoy noticed it too.
"Are you casting spells, Granger?" His voice was derisive and full of importance. He lifted his lip slightly. "Certifiable you are. I should report you to Potter's department. Unlawful magic use in shops is illegal."
Hermione tried not to smile at his ridiculous threat. Harry would never arrest her over such a preposterous charge. Malfoy was just angry. She had ruined his jacket, crumpled his suit and winded him after a tackle. Okay, maybe he had every right to be annoyed, but so did she. "I am not using illegal spells, you Dolt. You know how I feel about unauthorized use of magic. It's coming from the mirror - I think."
Malfoy quirked an eyebrow, mocking her. She huffed and grabbed the mirror, pulling it forward. Inspecting the back, she saw nothing out of place.
"There's nothing wrong that I can see." Hermione knocked on the back, the sound reverberated through the room. She heard a chuckle from Malfoy and pushed down the small pulse in her chest. Surely she'd heard wrong, the lord and master of all cynics did not chuckle. Well, not in her vicinity anyway. And the sound of it certainly did not make her feel anything but derision.
"You would do anything to dissuade me from purchasing that Port-Key. Casting a few flashy spells will not frighten me away. It's mine." Draco's voice was low and serious. It should have made her back off, but it didn't.
Hermione was beginning to get concerned. Her blood pressure had increased and decreased at least fifty times in the last half an hour, all because of bloody Malfoy. She was a coronary attack waiting to happen. If she fell over spluttering, he would step over her, take the mirror and leave her to rot with furniture which hadn't been sat on since the 1920's. But, thoughts of her health didn't stop her from hissing at him furiously.
"Take it then, I dare you to try…"
Disbelief stole over Malfoy's face for a moment; then his eyes hardened. He grasped the front of the mirror, while Hermione held it from the back. They began tugging it from both sides, like children fighting over a toy. Unexpectedly a white blinding light exploded in her eyes. A second later she found herself on the ground. Groggily she turned her head, seeing Malfoy slowly sitting up. Whatever happened, affected them both. Her ears were ringing and she felt strange. She realised Malfoy was speaking to her.
"…like I said, Granger you're bonkers. I won't report you this time. But I'll be keeping an eye on you. What a nutcase…"
Before she could get to her feet, Malfoy had grasped the mirror and strode out to the front counter. She almost ran after him, until she spied what was hidden behind the mirror they were fighting over. Another exact replica sat undamaged. How she didn't see it before was beyond her, she must have been too busy trying to thwart Malfoy. If anything, this Port-Key was more beautiful than the one he had grabbed. Smiling broadly, Hermione waited till she heard the front door close. Thus meaning Malfoy had departed. A sinfully evil smile spread across her face.
"What a total pillock." Still giggling, she seized her prize.
Manfred waited patiently for her at the counter, a secret smile played around his lips. Hermione didn't think anything of it this time; he was obviously just in a happy mood.
"I trust you found what you were after, a Port-Key which would look good in your bedroom?"
"Yes, actually I did, even better than what I first hoped for." A smile at outwitting Malfoy bubbled over again. Manfred returned it with a twinkle in his eye.
"Ah, the mischief mirror, you have found a rare piece."
"The mischief mirror?" Hermione wondered why it suddenly didn't seem like such a good piece of fortune. It was a magical Port-Key shop after all. Anything could happen.
"Oh, don't look so worried, there is nothing remotely dangerous about this mirror. It once belonged to a trickster, many, many years ago named Rudolf Maine. He was quite a weak wizard who preformed parlour tricks to Muggles for money. The mirror was part of his illusions. He disappeared mysteriously during one performance, never to be seen again. I came across it years ago and have only recently converted it into a Port-Key."
"Oh, so you mean this original owner, Rudolf was a magician? Like pull a rabbit from a hat?" Hermione asked, glad the mirror she had chosen had a back story.
Manfred nodded in agreement. "Exactly, I like to give a little history on all the Keys I sell. I also like to give the new owner a little advice."
Hermione paid her money and patiently waited for his sage guidance on cleaning care and usage. You could never be too careful when it came to Port-Key furniture. She didn't want to be cleaning it and end up in Africa.
"Keep your wits about you, Miss Granger. Your brain is your greatest asset, especially when thrust into a world you know nothing about. But, you guard your heart too intently. Let it have a choice once in awhile. It may surprise you."
Hermione stood stock still for a full minute, knowing she looked like a goldfish. Well, that was not the type of advice she was expecting. Shaking her head she thanked Manfred and left the store. It wasn't until later when she was putting the mirror next to her bed she saw the activation code. It simply stated 'dreams can come true'. Hermione smiled at Manfred's joke and knew she'd have to call him in the morning to find out how to activate it properly.
Hermione kicked her leg playfully as his teasing breath ghosted over her shins. Sighing deeply, she reached down to run her fingers through soft hair. She loved his hair and had wanted to touch it for more years than she could remember. It was just as silky as she'd imagined. His tongue traced the groove of her knee and he slowly began to move upwards towards his ultimate goal.
She shivered in desire as he nipped her skin lightly, his soft chuckle at her moans sent shards of wanton lust straight to her groin. Gods this felt sinful, wrong and 'oh' so perfect all at the same time. His fingers dug into her hips as his kisses grew in intensity. Suddenly his mouth enveloped her, she groaned in pleasure. Never had anyone taken so much time and care with her, which meant she wouldn't last long. His tongue twisted and turned over her wetness, tracing around her clit. Hermione almost flew off the bed. Grasping his head in her hands she held him in place as his snake-like tongue delved deep within her. She flung a leg over his shoulder and let him take her wherever he wished.
"Draco, don't stop, Merlin that feels magic."
Stop. Draco? What?
Hermione sat up quickly. She was alone in bed, though her sheets were twisted and the smell of arousal permeated the room. The throbbing between her legs and the wetness she could feel were real enough. It was like Malfoy was really in her room tasting her. A spike of desire hit her stomach as she thought this. No, the thought of anyone in her aroused state would make her quake. Why oh why was her brain being so cruel? Now her dreams were creating unwanted attractions to Malfoy. As if spending eight hours a day in the same office as him when not on a mission wasn't enough, he now had to penetrate her sleep. Hermione ignored the tightness in her groin at the thought of Malfoy penetrating anything of hers.
"Get a god-damn grip, woman." She hit her bed in frustration. What was happening? Madness, that's what. Or had she eaten cheese before bed? Dairy was supposed to invoke nightmares, she had read that somewhere. Or maybe she really did want Malfoy in her bed.
"No, not at all, not ever," she whispered into the semi-darkness. It sounded like a lie, even to her.
Hermione flopped back amongst her pillows and flung a hand over her eyes. Peeping out at her alarm clock, she saw the red digits blink 3.27am. Groaning she shut her eyes again. She didn't think sleep would be visiting anytime soon. Not while she had a need that demanded to be sated. But, she couldn't bring herself to alleviate the situation, not when Malfoy was the cause. It would be like admitting to herself that she found him desirable. She sung loudly in her head as the voice of reason piped up to say she did find him ridiculously handsome. It worked for a moment.
"Crap, crap and crap once more."
Turning onto her side, Hermione looked at the reflections in her new mirror. Moonlight cascaded through the window and she could clearly see the outline of her prone body. Then another figure appeared. Gasping, Hermione spun over quickly. She was the only one in her room. Twisting back she watched in fascinated horror as the silhouette appeared once more, it looked like smoke pooling together to create a figure. Unfortunately, she knew the outline of this particular person very well. She must still be dreaming. Strangely, as soon as this thought formed she felt herself relax into the dream. What happens in a dream stays in one, right?
Surprising her with his solidity, smoky Malfoy curved an arm around her pulling her onto her back. Hermione turned willingly. His lips captured hers in an agonisingly sweet kiss. His lips felt full and real enough though. His tongue darted into her mouth and she moaned into his warmth. Growling in the back of his throat, Draco rolled them over so she was sprawled on-top of him.
"I like you on me, Granger. You had me so hard today; I'm surprised you didn't feel it."
Hermione giggled and kissed along his collarbone, earning her more small growls. Gods his voice was deep and hypnotic, she could listen to him for hours. She couldn't believe her dream Malfoy brought up the incident from Manfred's shop, her sub-conscious was working overtime.
His hand curled around her back and she sat up. The feeling of his hard cock against her warmth induced her to wiggle. His throaty chuckle made her smile. Hermione looked back over at the mirror and gasped. Smoke was pouring out of it, like the inside was on fire. Looking down at Malfoy she saw he had once again disappeared.
"So far this dream had been disappointing in the satisfaction stakes." She mumbled.
Suddenly a smoke tendril came straight for her. It wound around her wrist tightly. Tightly, hang on – this was dream smoke, it shouldn't be solid. It began to tug her. She resisted. It yanked harder. Hermione began to panic; this dream was turning into a nightmare. She rolled over sharply trying to dislodge the thread. It loosened slightly and she let out a relieved breath.
Then out of nowhere, four tendrils grabbed a limb each; she screamed out and writhed madly. They were too strong for her. The smoke began to drag her towards the mirror, which now had a surface like a lake in the middle of a storm. Waves of liquid glass lapped over the frame, the golden vines which looked so beautiful at first now looked menacing with thorns that reached for her.
Her feet dipped in first, she expected an icy coldness, yet she felt warmth spread across her feet. Is this what it's like to die? Hermione's self preservation kicked in and she tried once again to wriggle free. It was no use. She was now up to her thighs. Shutting her eyes she willed herself to wake. Nothing happened. The warmth now spread across her chest. Hermione took one last deep breath as her face disappeared into the mirror.
A/N: Hello there! Hope you enjoyed the first chapter of my new story - as always it's an action/spy story, I can't seem to shake the plot-bunnies which jump out for this genre! It will be around 9 chapters and I'll try and post every four or five days :) Feel free to let me know what you think - I love hearing from everyone!