"Mirrors Never Lie"

A/N: Finally got around to Dawns' challenge. This was written spur of the moment to amuse me. As always I don't own anything, but sometimes I pretend...

Fandoms: Harry Potter/ James Bond (though that is not the pairing)

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He was aware of the picture he presented. Relaxed, urbane and more than a little rakish. Seeing as though he was attending the ceremony due to invitation and not in any official capacity, he was able to indulge in one of his more infamous passions. Women.

“Good evening, Commander.” The voice broke his silent reverie, forcing his attention back to the gilded ballroom. Admiral Smythe, in full dress uniform, was regarding him with feigned interest. The girl on his arm, however, seemed much more impressed.

Lifting his glass in salute, he smiled at the man in front of him. “Admiral, it’s been far too long.”

“Yes, yes,” the Admiral answered, his attention already turned to more interesting guests in the crowded room. Turning his gaze to his companion, a girl of no more than twenty-five if his guess was correct and it usually was, the Admiral offered introductions. “Commander Bond, let me present you to my granddaughter, Hermione Granger. She’s been locked away at Oxford for too long. I barely convinced her to attend this function, as a boon to an old man.”

James smiled at the slight girl, far too pretty in crimson silk to be locked away at any school. The girl, Hermione, smiled shyly under his scrutiny. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Commander Bond.”

Smiling at the appreciation in the girls’ wide cinnamon-brown eyes, Bond brought her hand to his lips. “The pleasure is certainly mine, Ms. Granger.”

The Admiral, despite knowing the reputation of the esteemed Commander, had other guests to attend to. Disengaging his arm from his granddaughters, he smiled down at the girl. “I really must attend to greeting the American Ambassadors. No need to subject you to that, my dear. Have a drink and try to have a little fun.”

Left alone, Hermione resisted the urge to cover her nervousness by slouching. So much for Gryffindor bravery, she berated herself as she straightened her posture and smiled at the dashing man before her. If only all rank-bearing men in her grandfathers profession looked half as good in a tuxedo. Very daring, she had to admit, to carry such rank as Commander and show up in such a finely cut concoction instead of the dreary dress-uniform.

“Sorry to be thrust on you so, Commander,” Hermione said, trying to appear collected. Her grandfather was right, she didn’t get out enough. Her social graces were definitely lacking. Any minute now the sexy Commander was going to high tail it for some vapid woman who knew how to giggle and flirt.

Pinching a glass of champagne from a passing tray, James handed the glass to the nervous girl. “No need for apologies, it’s rare that I get out of your grandfathers’ grasp without considerable more damage. Pretty girls are never a burden.”

“You are practiced at flirting, Commander Bond.”

“Call me James. Being called Commander has certain advantages but it makes me feel ancient coming from such charming company.” Quirking a brow suggestively, he drained his champagne flute and made sure she did the same. “ Your time here is being wasted in this stuffy room, have you ever seen the

gardens?”

Arm in arm they walked out of the ballroom, across the stately lawn and into the lush green depths of the Estates’ hedge maze. James, having finished recounting a rather steamy encounter he’d had in a similar maze in Germany, was gratified to see her blush. With a quirk of a smile, he looked down at her and said, “Half of everything is luck. I found out later that she was the wife of my host.”

Hermione giggled. It was an appallingly girly thing to do, putting her in mind of the terrible rooming years with Lavender and Parvarti, but she had no head for champagne. “You a are so well traveled.”

“I do get around,” James answered, with some irony. It had been too long since he’d had a stolen evening free of the shoot-em-up, cowboy game that was his life. He was becoming terribly introspective and brooding usually followed. Taking her into his arms partially in an effort to head off the tide of morose feelings, he asked, “What are you studying at Oxford?”

“Oh,” she said with some surprise, looking up at him with an impish grin. “I’m actually working on two PhDs.”

James grinned, suddenly amused by the stranger in his arms. “Bit too early to play ‘Doctor and Commander’, unfortunately.”

Hermione grinned, remembering that she bad been instructed to have fun. If only Harry and Ron could see her now in her vampy ball gown, curls tousled by the breeze, wrapped around a man she hardly knew. A man who she suddenly wanted to know in a much more biblical sense. “You don’t need a PhD to play doctor, James.”

That was all it took, instantly they were on one another in a fight of lips, tongues and touch. Not wanting to be second in his line of hedge-maze shags, Hermione managed to manipulate them away from the gardens, through a scandalous cab ride and back to her flat. That night half of her neighbors were scandalized by their studious neighbor and her companion, while the other half were glad that the polite young girl had finally landed herself a man.

After falling asleep in the early hours of the morning, in a sweaty heap with clothing scattered from the hallway and to the bedroom, dawn came far too soon. James rose first, thinking she was sleep, but she watched him from beneath her eyelashes. Even for a Commander he certainly had a fit body and more than a few scars. In the early morning light, covered by the duvet, she allowed herself a catty smile as she remembered the night before.

After he had disappeared into the bathroom, Hermione got up and stretched like a cat. She was deliciously sore and the fact that she was skipping her research group made her feel decidedly naughty. Not once in her waking train of thought did she worry about what James would find in her apartment. After tying a linen robe around her naked body she walked into the kitchen, or intended but was deterred as she passed the bathrooms open door.

James was looking into the mirror, blushing. Instantly hysterical laughter welled up in Hermiones’ throat. The mirror. The enchanted mirror. If she’d only used her brain! The mirror was much like the mirrors she had gotten use to at Hogwarts, but instead of just mouthing off the mirror in her bathroom had a very raunchy sense of humor. All it took was to hear the end of it’s comment, something along the lines of, “You’ve got fabulous ass, luv”, to set her laughter loose.

“Care you explain?” James queried.

She had to give him credit he looked composed, like mirrors hit on him daily. “Gag gift from a girlfriend, I’m sorry.”

“Can you turn it off? You gave me my fill of verbal appreciation last night,” he delivered off with a grin, sending a delicious jolt of excitement through her body. There was still no doubt in her mind- Harry was a dead man for giving her that mirror.

“I’ve never tried,” she admitted, coming into the bathroom to glare at the mirror in question. “It didn’t come with directions.”

The mirror chose that moment to pipe up with, “You’re looking thoroughly ridden, girlie. About time, too!”

Hermione blushed scarlet. Harry was most definitely a dead man.

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