Broken Mirror

xoXOXox

Harry watched with an impassive look as children and parents bustled about on the platform. To any other person the scene would look like a normal day of witches and wizards making sure they had all their supplies and textbooks and robes for yet another year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. To him, and he was pretty sure to the two unwavering companions at his side, it looked like a trap…a lie that was meant to lull them into a false sense of security.

All the smiles and the laughter, the joy and the excitement only helped to exacerbate the overwhelming paranoia they all felt that once again something was going to come after them, try to kill them or destroy the world they had worked so hard to save. His mind healer had explained that it was a natural part of his recovery…something called post-traumatic stress disorder or PTSD. He was supposed to have patience and breathe through his episodes and try to focus on something that felt solid and real to him.

Turning his head, he let his eyes focus on his solid…his real. Both of them stood almost the same way as him, backs to the wall, no part of them left vulnerable as they watched the display with something close to apathy on their faces. He knew better of course.

Hermione hid her pain and rage behind a wall of blankness, trying to keep the memories and the present dark magic that crawled in her veins contained in just her arm. It was a sort of worry for their mediwitch, which of them would be the first to snap and let loose all of the seething fire underneath their pretend apathy, him or Hermione.

Ron on the other hand kept his face that way because it was the only other thing he allowed himself to feel besides a yawning chasm of regret and sorrow. It seemed with the death of his brother his penchant for flying off the handle in anger had been washed away on the many rivers of tears they had all cried.

All three of them had taken to dressing with the aim to keep people away from touching them or even wanting to come near them. Ron had cut his hair and it stood up on his head in tiny spikes of burnt copper, held in place by a muggle hair gel Hermione had found for him to use.

His shirt and trousers were black as night, the sleeves short to show off the Celtic knot work he had tattooed on him over the summer. The shirt had a picture of a dementor that looked to be climbing from his lower back, around one side, and up his chest. Magic made it look like it was moving in a slow breeze and Harry had to admit it even gave him chills.

Hermione on the other hand was covered as much from head to toe as she could be. Her shirt was more a thin, long-sleeved hoodie that was one size too big for her. She had cut holes in the cuffs to push her thumbs through so that the fabric covered half of her hands as well and could not be easily pushed up. Her skirt was checkered in black and red plaid with little metal rings along the sides that gave it a very metal band rocker look. It flared out from her hips and ended a few short inches past her bum.

A pair of skintight black leggings, with imprints of what he guessed was roses in lace ran up her legs and were tucked into a pair of knee high, heeled combat boots. The silver buckles on the boots gleamed like sunlight off the surface of a calm lake. Her nails were painted black and red to match the skirt, a sort of half and half design that seemed oddly pretty against the rest of her.

Her hair hung in dark chocolate curls down her back but was tied away from her face with a black rose clip at the top of her head. Her makeup, a new thing to try to cover some of the exhaustion she had from not sleeping, was dark around her eyes making them look like pools of honey trapped in layers of tar. Her lips, she kept a deep burgundy red, like the wine the Minister preferred to drink when they had dinner. He wondered with the dark magic inside her if she would taste just as bittersweet as the wine did.

Shaking that thought out of his head, frowning at himself for even thinking it in the first place, Harry turned his head away just as Hermione turned to look at him. He knew what she would see now. A boy turned man, careless black hair still running in all directions with no keeper. His skin was paler than usual as he barely went outside anymore due to all the reporters.

His clothing was a black button up shirt and slacks all pressed perfectly so that he looked like one of the hated sacred twenty-eight everywhere he went. His publicist had demanded at least one of them look half-way presentable and he had been chosen…as per usual. Being 'chosen' really did suck dick. Though if anyone had to hold that burden, he would rather it be him. It was the least he could do to allow his best friends the freedom that they seemed to crave so much more than him.

Speaking of the press, he could hear the flash bulbs going off, the wretched vermin trying to get any picture they could of the famous 'Golden Trio' while they were out in public. The honor guard of Aurors they were given as protection kept the bulk of them behind a magical line while still allowing those who were supposed to be here through. He was pretty sure at one point at least one of them would find a way through. He could only hope they did not make the mistake of pushing up against Hermione…she was more than a bit sensitive to being touched without her expressed permission now.

The whistle sounded with the shrill tone of a dying harpy and Harry saw out of the corner of his eye both of his friends jump slightly as he did. Loud noises were just one of many things they all hated now and it seemed that the summer in the mind healing facility had not fully healed that little issue either. If it had not been Ministry mandated, he knew none of them would even be here. He was pretty sure Hermione was still contemplating fleeing to America and hiding among the magic communities there.

If she went, he knew he and Ron would go with her. He really was tired of the pomp of England's magical world anyway.

Hermione leaned against the wall that separated the train station buildings from the actual platform. The scene was one she knew well but this year the feeling of excitement and awe were replaced by a numb acceptance of finality. The Dark Lord was dead and yet nothing seemed to really change at all. Those in his service that survived were either in Azkaban if their crimes were proven to be unforgivable or they were on probation and back at their manors. Disgusting, unforgivable people like the Malfoys. All the blood, the pain, the scars…all for nothing.

She turned her head in time to see Harry turn away and knew he had been doing his usual exercise for when he started to feel too tense. She knew because she did the same thing in her way. Whenever the screams in her head became too loud, too terrifying, she looked for Harry or Ron to remind her that she was no longer in the darkness. Just seeing her boys whole and healthy, even if they were a little broken, could be the only thing to pull her back from the brink of insanity that she sometimes felt like she was slipping into.

She could not help the twinge of sadness that filtered through her as Harry unconsciously flicked his head to try to get the hair out of his eyes with a frown of dislike on his face. After finding out that his mentor and hero had pretty much raised him to be killed at the right time, his view of the entire world had tilted sideways. His disenchantment began at that point and had only deepened over the past few months leading up to them being forced to return to Hogwarts. If she could, she would bring that old bastard back to life just to fling him off the astronomy tower again herself!

If she cared to be amazed, it would amaze her at the change they had all undergone due to the war and the aftermath. As it was, she only ever felt one deep emotion and she used Occlumency to keep that in control as well. There was no need to let anyone else see that the bigots and the hate and the torture of the war had in fact broken some irreplaceable part of her. If anyone understood their dour Potions Professor now, it was her. Her seething rage at the world and everyone in it bubbled and simmered just under the surface of her shields, waiting for a crack to break through. Merlin, help them all if her willpower ever falters.

The hair on the back of her neck stood up as she twitched to the loud blast of the whistle. As one they pushed off the wall and started to head for the doors to board. Everyone, old and young, moved as quickly as possible to get out of their way and though Ron was kind enough to return smiles and head nods, her and Harry did not even bother to acknowledge the throng of people.

At least not until one fell in a grunting heap at their feet. The cry of indignation made Hermione roll her eyes but otherwise her facial expression didn't change. A flurry of movement pushed through the crowd as Parkinson, Zabini, and Nott all moved forward to try to help the blonde wizard who was rolling over to his back with a groan.

Hermione watched dispassionately as Katie Bell stuck her foot out and tripped Parkinson, the other witch losing her balance on her ridiculously high heeled shoes and landing quite roughly on the palms of her hands and her bare knees. Her skirt was thankfully spelled to stay in place or they would have all gotten a nice look at what the pug faced witch considered appropriate knickers these days. As she fell, her trajectory would have had her colliding with Harry but with his reflexes honed from the war he stepped to the side and back just enough that she landed ungracefully at his feet.

Her shrill yell had Hermione cringing from the pain to her ears and with a huff of annoyance and the grace of a dancer, she stepped over the legs of the blonde prat on the ground and started to move forward towards the train again.

"Damn Granger…just going to walk over Drake like he isn't there and go about your day?"

The smooth Italian voice had her pausing, her head the only part of her to move as she looked up to meet Zabini's eyes. Quirking an eyebrow up in an imitation of Snape, she glanced over her shoulder at the wizard looking up at her from the ground and then back to the shimmering golden eyes of the one who addressed her.

"Yes Zabini…that is exactly what I am going to do."

Turning to continue on her way, the rage inside her calming slightly at his look of shock, she stopped once more at the shrill scream that followed.

"You bitch! What? Now that the Order has won the war you are just going to sit back and let your sycophants attack us and do nothing about it?"

Turning slowly, the boredom on her face never shifting, Hermione stared down her nose at the witch just the way she used to do to her. It was amazing how awful and yet satisfying it felt to have the roles reversed for once.

"You mean, am I going to stand by or walk away when someone picks on you, calls you names, tries to hex you, or otherwise make your life a living hell? Why yes Parkinson! It seems you have hit the bludger perfectly."

Bending down so she was eye to eye with both Malfoy and Parkinson, she let her shields drop just enough for a piece of her hatred and boiling rage to pour into her eyes. While the witch flinched away from her, she was surprised that Malfoy sat still, and his eyes seemed to fill with understanding instead of fear or disgust.

"Not one of you bothered to stop and think for yourselves the past seven years. You tormented and taunted us for our status, money, our house or blood. You made sure to bully anyone that wasn't one of your precious pureblood nobility or willing to bow to your supposed superiority. Your archaic and unfounded ideals almost destroyed everything we are!"

She knew the sneer on her face was ugly, but she had lost the hold she had on her own emotions as the magic inside her rolled and frothed with her anger, the dark magic in her body seething to be let free to shred and rend. For a moment, she considered letting go and releasing the screams in her head to pour all over the lot of them. Knowing there were too many innocent children on the platform that would suffer undeservingly, she reigned in the rolling darkness just under the surface of her skin.

"You tried to hand over our only hope, my best friend, to that nose less sociopath to save yourself. That is all you have ever cared about, Parkinson, yourself! You may be beautiful on the outside, but you are so twisted and ugly on the inside that it has leaked out all over the rest of us until that is all we can see now. You mocked us all for being who we were, caring about everyone, trying to save as many people as we could from his tyranny. Now you get to deal with what is left of us."

Parkinson’s eyes widened and she turned her head to look up at Harry. For a moment Hermione almost felt sorry for the girl but the feeling was drowned under the dark whispers in her mind just as quickly as it came.

"You're Harry Potter, savior of the wizarding world. You're the good guy, the face of the light. You can't let them do this!"

Her voice cracked at the end in what Hermione guessed was very hard to suppress emotions and knowing where this was going to go, she turned her eyes back to Malfoy just so she could watch his face as she stood.

Ron stood still, his heart aching at what had become of his best friends. Though he wanted nothing more than to step forward and help the two Slytherins off the ground and try to smooth the ruffled feathers, he would never sow discord between the three of them. No one was worth that kind of disharmony and pain anymore.

As Hermione stood back up, he carefully wrapped his arm around her, going slow so that she knew it was him and did not lash out in fear or anger. He could feel her magic pulsing just on the surface of her skin and they did not need her to have an outburst out here with so many children present. She wouldn't mean to, but he knew some of them would end up injured if it happened.

Letting his own magic unfurl, he sent reassuring waves of calm against her even as he turned his dead gaze to Harry and watched the man he was now flood into his eyes as he addressed Pansy.

"Yes Parkinson…savior of the wizarding world...a lot of good that did anyone. Dumbledore is dead. Voldemort is dead. Most of the Death Eaters are still running free even if they are on probation because the corruption in the Ministry has not been entirely purged. You are all like a disease, spreading your cancer through the healthy and choking all that is good and pure with your vile presence."

Harry bent down so that he was face to face with the witch, his eyes a fire of anger as his frown turned to an imposing scowl.

"Everyone here knows how much bullshite it all is, and the future generations will no longer stand by and let it continue. You want to know what a savior looks like after the war is supposedly won. He looks like a corpse still walking, his soul riddled with scars and his dreams torn to tatters by nightmares. He wakes screaming more often than he does silently and he sees danger and enemies around every corner."

Reaching forward, Harry gripped her chin and raised her face so she was looking at him from a very uncomfortable angle. Zabini and Nott started to move to help only to be stopped by a dozen wands pointed at them.

"He forgets how to laugh, how to love, how to do anything else but watch for the next disease that comes to infect what he saved. He questions his life, his purpose, why he is even still here when so many others are gone, and he mourns them with every passing moment. He is filled with rage and hate and the shine on the world dulls to a murky gray as he realizes everything he thought was true…was a lie!"

Jerking his hand from her face, he wiped his fingers on his slacks as if they were covered in something disgusting before clenching it against his knee.

"What light and good inside him has died and the only thing he can see is the jaded world for what it truly is. You and your friends made our lives hell for six very long years. You supported the doctrine of your bigoted parents and a sociopathic tyrant. You and your kind cost me and mine friends and family, loved ones we can never get back. I don't know what you expected, Parkinson, but saving you, protecting you, that is not my job."

Ron closed his eyes as pain lanced through his chest. Though the mind healers had tried to save them all, the pain of the war had already done its damage. He wasn’t sure Harry or Hermione would ever find the light again and it broke his heart once more. Magic could do many things, but it couldn’t put the shattered pieces of his best friends back together. He only hoped with time, they would find some shape that resembled who they once were, even if it was jagged and slightly crooked.

"I did my part. I lived in abuse to stay hidden until it was time. I bled and cried and mourned as the years passed. And when it was time, I willingly walked to what I thought would be my death because that was what I was supposed to do. I was born and raised to die and if I had not had all three Hallows, I would have. Harry Potter, the boy-who-lived, savior of the wizarding world died in the forest that night. If you are looking for a savior…turn your eyes to someone else. I am out of the hero business!"

Standing back to his full height, Harry surveyed everyone around them and let out a very loud huff of annoyance.

"That goes for all of you. You want a hero…a savior…some shiny beacon of hope and life and light…look to others around you. If you look in our direction, you are going to be sorely disappointed. The 'golden trio’ died somewhere between the trees in the Forest of Dean, the cold floor of Malfoy manor, and the last stand at Hogwarts!"

Harry's voice carried over the crowd and Hermione leaned on him as they headed for the train, the silence loud in the stillness and the anguish of those gathered tasted like ash on his tongue. Those who had fought in the battle filed in behind them, a show of support and solidarity against those who did not bother to lift a wand to help. They wanted to judge the survivors for not giving more and more and more when none of them had ever been in any real danger.

Once on the train, the three of them take one of the compartments in the center of the train. Luna, Neville, Hannah, Seamus, and Dean all joined them, and they could hear the other members of the D.A. gathering in the compartments in front of and behind theirs. Surrounded by those they trusted to watch their back, the trio of friends got comfortable and waited for the train to take them back to where their nightmares began. Hermione leaned against Ron as he leaned back against the window, his chest to her back.

Harry took the same position against her as she did on Ron and their arms came up to hold each other. They knew many articles had been written about their sordid triangle of love but none of them cared anymore for gossip or other people's opinions. The only time they all felt like they could hold themselves together was when they were connected at the hips, and nothing was going to tear them apart ever again.

Draco watched the trio of lions walk away before sitting up and rubbing his hands clean on his robe. Theo reached down to help him up as Blaise carefully lifted Pansy back to her feet. Looking around, he kept his face blank as he was taught as the crowd looked on. Not one person moved forward to try to help them and he realized this year had the potential to be even worse than he had expected. He could honestly say he never imagined the three saviors turning on everyone too. Like Pansy, he had hoped they would be the one factor that would tame or gentle the rest of the populace of Hogwarts. He knew better than to hope as that did not seem to be the case.

Looking her over, Draco noticed Pansy had scraps on the palms of her hands and on her knees but none of them were allowed their wands until they reached the castle. With no way to heal the marks, Draco took out one of his monogrammed handkerchiefs and helped wipe the skin clean of dirt and blood. Her eyes were shiny as she did her best to hide her tears and keep them from falling and for a moment he hated his father and mother all over again.

"What are we going to do now, Draco? All of us were banking on the trio being their usual holier-than-thou selves and keeping the others from attacking us. If we can't rely on their goodness to keep us unscathed, what do we do?"

Looking over at Theo with a grimace, Draco slid his arm around Pansy to help her up the stairs and on to the train.

"I have no idea Theo and I'm actually a little scared to even get on the train now. I'm starting to think spending the year in Azkaban would be better than being forced to go back to that school with so many people who hate us."

Blaise led the way further back on the train and as far away from the 'Golden Trio' as they could get. Finding an empty compartment near the very back, the four Slytherins piled in and took a seat with different sighs of worry and relief.

"Do you think Headmaster Snape is going to be able to make the other students leave us alone?"

Her voice quivering with her pain, Pansy continued to dab at her knees as she looked around at them all.

"I don't know, Pans. He can make a lot happen, but I am not sure even my scarier than Hades Godfather is going to be able to shield us this time. We just need to stay together and keep our heads down. It's just this last year and then we all can get our NEWT's and get out of England. There are plenty of places we can go where no one knows who we are or what we were forced to do. Let's just make it through this year in one piece, okay?"

All of them nodded their agreement and as the train whistle blew once more and the wheels began to churn on the tracks, Draco gazed out the window and wondered if any of them were going to be able to stick to that agreement. Hopefully the mind healers that were being forced on them at Hogwarts would be able to do some good and fix those that the war had broken…himself included. Either way he would find out as the coming days passed and he could honestly say he was not looking forward to any of it.

xoXOXox