The Day the World Changed

The Prologue - Into the Looking Glass

[January 25, 2002]

She looked in the mirror just like she did every morning, and for a brief moment allowed the melancholy that had been threatening her for days to finally creep to the surface. Where had the familiar, youthful face gone, and when had this stranger come to take her place? Her unpolished fingers reached up and traced the cheek that no longer contained the same childish plumpness it once had. Though still a young and attractive woman by anyone else's standards, she couldn't help but notice the beginnings of a few lines that hadn't been there less than a year ago and that probably shouldn't be there to begin with. But it was the eyes that distressed her most of all. Eyes that had seen too much in too short of a time, and yet still burned with a desire to hope. Eyes that hadn't really laughed in years. And right now eyes that were almost black with anger and frustration.

They'd lived together since the end, the only pieces of a puzzle that still fit together after everything was over and done. Best friends since childhood, they became broken soldiers after the last battle with Voldemort and the Death Eaters. During the long years of fighting the two had lost so much: Sirius, Hermione's parents, Neville, Hagrid, and countless others. And then came the day when they lost the one person neither had ever thought it was possible to lose. For some reason, both Harry and Hermione had been able to see the other pair of the trio continuing on in life should anything happen to either of them, but never had they thought that Ron would be the one to fall.

And now this. How could he have thought to keep such a huge secret from her? A secret that had been going on for how long--a year, two years, more? She pushed the looking glass away from her so it reflected nothing more than the wide expanse of white ceiling. She'd known it was something big, but she had kept herself hoping against hope that she was wrong--that she was making his resistance to confide in her and his recent emotional distance up in her own paranoid mind.

But she'd been right all along. He'd lied to her and broken her trust. And worst of all he'd left her completely alone. Without him, she was singular. A solo artist. How had her safety net of three broken down to just her?

And between these thoughts, her mind kept flashing through glimpses of the last 10 years of her life. Of first walking into that train compartment and recording the expressions on the two boys faces. Mending broken glasses with a wave of her wand. Trolls. Giant snakes. Hippogriffs. Werewolves. Mermaids. A boy dragging behind him the body of another boy. A man falling through a curtain. The images flashed faster and faster and she felt her breath coming in choppy, little gasps. Her arm linked through the elbows of two others walking along a snowy path. Enchanted paper frogs hopping over her books in order to get her attention in the library. A silvery blonde head bending towards a rich auburn one in a kiss. An emerald green stick pin. A hand pressed up again glass. Holding a shaking body next to hers as it sobbed over the loss of yet another friend. Green and red lights twining and pulsing with life, both intent on obliterating the other. A hunter green door and a voice crowing, "It's great, right?" Boxes piled on other boxes. A slowly growing stack of books on an end table. A fireplace. Christmas trees. A strong, graceful hand grasping her own. Pots of pasta and plastic cups filled with wine. A hushed conversation on the floo network. Growing silences. A torn letter. A breaking glass. Shouts. Doors slamming.

Hermione quickly shook off her musings when a soft knock came at the door. "'Mione? I'm heading off to work," Harry said tentatively, just cracking the door so his voice would come through. "I'll be back in a couple of days, alright? We'll... Well, I guess I'll talk to you when I get home." She knew he was hoping she'd respond--that she'd say anything if only to acknowledge his existence. And despite the heavy ache in her chest, she stayed silent. Better to let him know that she was not quite so predictable as he must have thought, than to give in to her desire to fix what was wrong between them.

With only her silence to bid him goodbye, Harry gently shut her door and left, apparating to wherever the Ministry had decided to send him this time.

It doesn't really matter, she told herself. It was just one more secret.

It was just one more lie.