Mirrors

Mirrors

I hate looking into mirrors. I've never liked it. Even as a young girl I would never be able to look directly in the mirror, which is why I use my wand to fix everything.

Even now, as a grown woman, there are no mirrors in my apartment in Muggle London. I've taped them all up and I don't own anything that I can see my reflection on.

I guess you could say I'm scared. All my life boys have commented on how ugly I am, but my parents say I'm beautiful and I should look in the mirror to face that. But what if the boys were right? I mean, I've never been asked out, and I know I'm a nice girl with a nice personality. Are guys just shallow to only ask out a girl is they're attractive?

Ron says that I'm pretty, but he's just my best friend. He's supposed to say that. Harry says that I have the natural look, which, to him, is a good thing. He doesn't want me to be one of those Barbie dolls. Ginny tells me I'm pretty and that I should over come my, what she calls it, mirrorphoebia. I laughed when I heard that.

I have no clue what I look like. All I can see in from my shoulders down. The only thing I know is that my hair is brown and curly, my eyes are brown, I'm white, I'm 5" 5', I weigh 120 pounds, and my boob size.

Now, you might ask why a woman of twenty-four is still afraid to look in a mirror. What could possibly frighten you about a mirror? Well, here's your answer. All mirrors show different things. One mirror could make you look incredibly beautiful and another could make you look hideous. My suspicions were increased when I found out I was a witch. What if somebody had charmed it to show exactly what I wanted to or exactly what I feared I looked like?

But today, I need to look at myself. Ron's taking me to a muggle shop and buying me a brand new mirror just to prove nothing has been done to it. I must admit that I'm extremely nervous about this. I'm scared to see what I look like. Ha, now that would make somebody who doesn't know me laugh. It's time to conquer my fears. After all, for seven years I helped Harry fight, now it's time to look in the mirror.

*=*=*

It's been an hour, and I'm standing next to Ron in my apartment. We bought a body length mirror that Ron said would be perfect. He opened up the package and had a blanket over it, waiting for me to say I was ready. I wasn't. I wanted to see what I looked like, but I didn't want to. What was I going to see?

I closed my eyes and took in a deep breath. "I'm ready," I whispered with my eyes still closed.

"Okay," Ron said. I heard a swish and then Ron's voice. "Open your eyes, Hermione." I let out a breath and snapped my eyes open.

"Oh my God," I whispered, stepping closer to the mirror. "That's me?" I touched my pale cheek and ran my hand through my hair.

"That's you," Ron whispered putting his hand on my shoulder. I took in everything. The way my breasts were shaped, the curve of my body, my skin, my eyes, my hair, everything. Then I turned to my side to see the way my legs were, my butt, and my stomach.

"That's me," I whispered. It wasn't a question this time. It was a statement. I admired everything about my body, even the skin underneath my clothes. Ron looked away when I had my shirt, pants, and panties off.

Finally, I had seen myself. Finally, I was comfortable. Finally, I knew who I was.