"The Sex."

"But he usually just calls me 'Mione."

As if on cue, the bathroom door opened behind Hermione's mirror image. Hermione - the real Hermione, or at least she thought that was right - froze as she saw Harry walk up behind her. Then Hermione's reality... broke. Her reflection looked round with a smile, and kissed Harry over her shoulder, as Harry's hands gently found their way to her hips.

Hermione couldn't look away from the mirror, mesmerised by the sight of such easy physical chemistry between the image of Harry and her. She could feel the brush of his skin on her neck, savouring the touch of his lips on hers, even the taste of his mouth on her tongue.

'Mione glanced back to Hermione, a sly smirk on her face as their eyes met. Whilst Harry moved onto worshipping her neck, Hermione's reflection drew her wand, and tapped its tip against her own sternum. Hermione watched with amazement as ripples seemed to emanate from that contact, as some kind of disillusionment charm was lifted.

The first thing the brunette bookworm noticed was how much bigger her boobs were in the mirror - comfortably a D-cup, in contrast to her almost flat chest in reality. The wave of the counterspell spread further, revealing 'Mione's newly exposed skin was smoother and glossier than Hermione's had even been at the Yule Ball. Her face seemed to be mostly unchanged, though a tactful layer of makeup appeared to have been applied. Her bushy brown hair became silky chestnut locks, flowing weightlessly down to her bum - which was perkier and plumper than Hermione had ever dreamed it could be. The reflection's waist was narrower than the reality, her abdomen toned and strong. Her limbs were beautifully smooth and hairless, muscles toned to perfection. Under the disillusionment charm, 'Mione turned out to be wearing only the locket and a set of lacy lingerie, allowing Harry full access to her gorgeous body.

Hermione had to admit - seeing her best friend worshipping this goddess-like version of her was a wonder to behold. Perhaps someone could even have persuaded her this mirror was actually the Mirror of Erised, if that wasn't an even more impossible suggestion. Besides, as hot as it was to watch the kiss unfold in front of her, to feel the tingling pleasure of Harry's hands massaging her breasts - it wasn't something Hermione had ever wanted for herself. And she had more important things to be doing than watching this fantasy.

I can't move. Hermione tried again to look away from the mirror, to no avail. Her feet wouldn't budge either. All she could move were her hands, but when she reached for her wand, it was gone. She couldn't even reach her hairbrush, to throw at the mirror and break it. She muttered countercurses, to no avail. Called for Harry, but there was no response.

'Mione chuckled, licking her lips as she moved closer to the mirror. "Sorry, babe. That's not how this works."

"How is this possible?" stormed Hermione, shaking with equal parts fear and anger. "How did you trap me in my own body? If you're telling the truth, how did you even know I exist, when I didn't know about you?"

"Because, dumbass," smirked 'Mione, fire dancing in her eyes. "I'm the original."