AUTHOR'S NOTES:

This was my entry for the 2015 HP Get Lucky Fest (hp-getlucky . livejournal . com). This is a three-shot story. I'll post all the chapters up at once for you.

PROMPT: #55 - A broken mirror brings seven years of bad luck. Will that luck change if the mirror is repaired? Characters: Harry x Hermione

Thank you so much to my beta, D, for coming through for me! It was our first time working together, and I greatly appreciated all your input - you rock!

Thank you to the Mod of the fest for allowing me to have fun in your world for the first time!

Please review, if you would!

Disclaimer: "Harry Potter" is the property of J.K. Rowling, Scholastic Books, and Warner Brothers. This fanfiction was written entirely for fun, not for profit, and no copyright infringement is intended.

Timeline: Post-Hogwarts, EWE

Main Characters: Hermione Granger x Harry Potter

Summary: Harry's done the unthinkable: broken the Mirror of Erised. Bad luck seems to follow him everywhere after that. Thank Godric he's got Hermione on his side! Would it be pressing his luck, though, to tell her his true feelings for her at long last?

Warnings: PiningInLove!Harry (a little OOC), Explicit profanity, Nudity, Implied oral sex, Interrupted sex, Discussion of masturbation

Author's Notes: Title of the story comes from Rod Stewart's song of the same.

SOME GUYS HAVE ALL THE LUCK

By: RZZMG

It is only Tuesday morning and already my day is off to a dreadful start.

Given that the last two years have been especially unlucky overall, however, that fact doesn't come as much of a surprise to me anymore.

Since the day I'd broken the Mirror of Erised by accident while out on a mission to retrieve a batch of stolen artefacts from Hogwarts (the mirror among them), Misfortune and I have walked hand-in-hand like a pair of stewed lovers. Every day, some new calamity befalls me—which makes my co-workers cackle with unholy glee on a regular basis, the rotten bastards—but I've finally gotten used to it by now.

Today's quandary starts off with a late quarterly budget report to the Minister. I've promised Kingsley I'd get it to him by this morning and have been up half the night and have come in early today to get it done. Now, thanks to a clumsy grab for my quill, all my hard work is ruined. As I stare at the tipped over ink pot and the spilled pool of liquid that crosses my desk, covers the report, and is currently streaming straight towards me, I'm resigned to the fact that events have just hit the 'bad' mark.

I force my dark thoughts to the side, concentrating on the positive, as my therapist advises: if this is the worst I have to deal with today, I can thankfully handle it. No one has ever died over a little spilled milk (or ink, in this case). Besides, I've had the forethought to plan for such an eventuality, expecting trouble: I made a Doubling charmed copy of the report, minus the last hour's additions and subtractions, which can be easily reproduced.

Take that, Misfortune, you bitch.

With a tiny sprig of hope blossoming in my chest that perhaps, maybe I'll actually make it through this particular Tuesday relatively unscathed I dare to smile and reach for my wand to clean up the mess.

A knock at my office door arrests my hand and has me quickly checking the clock on the wall. Blast, is it half-past eleven already? I'd promised the Minister he'd have the budget report to him by ten!

Forgetting the ink spill, and that Magical Maintenance had just yesterday installed a new hanging light over my work area, I quickly climb to my feet, intending to grab the report in question and rush off to the Minister's office. Unfortunately, Misfortune rears her ugly, snaky head once more, and my bad luck holds true to the course that had been decided for it seven years prior. In the blink of an eye, the 'worst' part of my day has finally arrived…

As I jump to my feet, I promptly smack my head on the metal lamp hanging overhead, sending it swinging forwards. Even as I reach up to rub at the sore spot on my forehead, the bloody thing swung back my way for a second round, banging me in the same exact place hard enough to make me see stars.

"Ow!" I holler in pain and close my eyes, slapping a hand over the area, rubbing it.

Touching the spot, however, causes an arrow of sharp pain to shoot up my spine. My hips thrust forward in an uncontrolled jerking motion… putting my crotch right in the path of the leaked ink. A lovely red patch appears where I'd normally zip up, soaking into the fabric as if it were a sponge, thirsty for water.

"Shit!" I bellow, noting the red seeping into my favourite pair of distressed blue jeans—which distresses me to no end.

One noteworthy thing about me: when upset, I automatically slip into 'Muggle mode' to handle a domestic crisis. It's a residual of the training I'd received under the Dursley's care. Forgetting for the moment that I'm a wizard and can easily use my wand to Vanish a mess, I start doing things the old-fashioned way, without magic. I pull my tee-shirt off to keep it from getting stained, unbutton my jeans, and grab for the box of facial tissues on my desk, blotting at the large, dyed spot on the front fabric of my jeans and on the bared skin underneath (I never wear boxers, finding them too confining given my size).

That benign stroking action, however, leads to another unforeseen consequence: my sensitive, much-neglected prick comes wide awake and decides to poke its puffy, little head up for a solid look around, seeking some action.

Now I'm horny on top of everything else.

Dazed by the rush of lust that runs through me, I still for a moment contemplating today's ridiculous situation—I'm shirtless, standing alone in my office with sopping red tissues in one hand, a cut over my forehead beginning to drip blood into my right eye, the front of my jeans covered in what looks like blood as well, and holding an erection so needy, it stretches straight up to cover my bellybutton. I'm sure I looked like a victim of attempted masturbation gone horribly wrong.

And, of course, my office door opens at just that moment.

"Oh, my Lord, Harry! I-I-I'm sorry! I didn't mean… I knocked! Er, I'll just be outside!"

The fluttering edge of a pretty summer dress and a pair of sunshine-tanned, gorgeous legs hurries back through the door as it shuts, and my heart lodges itself somewhere between my lungs and my tongue, making it both impossible to breathe or to speak, as there's instant recognition.

That voice, that face, those legs… Hermione has finally returned from her conference overseas!

—To find me bloodied, mostly naked, palming my aroused cock with a wad of red Kleenex.

Shit, but my luck just couldn't get any worse!

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Talk about ironic… This isn't the first time Hermione has walked in on me with my hand on my prick.

When we were alone in the tent that year we were on the run and Ron had abandoned us, she'd come back in after a perimeter patrol to find me stroking it in my cot as a form of much-needed stress relief. That time, she'd been scandalized, too, rushing back out into the cold and not coming back in for another hour.

This time, I actually had a plausible excuse for whipping it out. I just needed to let the shock run its course first before attempting to explain it to my best friend, though.

‒You know, the girl I was in love with, but could never tell.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Cafeteria coffee has to be the worst, but especially when there's no sugar and you're left with only honey to sweeten it. I ran my tongue over my teeth and made a face after taking a sip. "Rubbish," I grumbled and pushed the cup aside, refusing to drink any more. I should have ordered tea, as Hermione had. Honey went well with tea.

It probably went well with Hermione, too. I bet she tasted as sweet as her tea…

"Really, Harry, it's alright," she said for the umpteenth time after yet another apology spilled from my mouth. "I understand, and it wasn't your fault. It's the mirror's curse acting up again."

"Yeah, I know."

After nearly two years of repeated near misses, small disasters, mid-sized calamities, and the occasional full-blown accident, I was ready to lock myself in a white, padded room for the next five years until the curse blew over. Since that fateful day I'd literally fallen into the Mirror of Erised and smashed it to bits, I've been struck by lightning twice, had a cauldron full of armadillo bile blow up in my face, came down with both the Mumps and the Measles in the same summer, was bitten by Malfoy's pet snake in a rather sensitive location, and caught a rare kind of lice from one of my owls who'd been a bit too friendly in the Owlery with foreign birds!

I seriously needed a holiday, somewhere preferably quiet and as far from danger as possible. Solitary confinement was looking better and better every day.

"So, why are you here?" I ask, resigned to my doomed fate.

My best friend leaned forward in her chair, excited as only an Unspeakable could be when they were discussing the magically bizarre. "I've found a way to cure you!"

I blinked and turned my head, not sure I'd heard correctly. "Come again?"

"I was reading through Brodwin's book on magical enchantments, and–"

I fall in love with her all over again as I listen and watch her face as she discusses her latest interest.

She goes on for ten minutes about the book, its overall contents, and how the publisher ought to change their format to make the reading follow a more logical progression of enchantments based on difficulty in casting. Finally, when she starts spouting off how brilliant Brodwin really is (she seems entirely too enamoured of a git who lived more than two-hundred years ago, in my opinion), I feel it's time to bring her back on track.

"So, how does the mirror fit into all this again?"

"I was getting there," she says, a bit huffy that I've cut short her long-winded praise. "According to Brodwin's research into ancient mirror magic, the reason you're experiencing what you would call 'bad luck' is because of your proximity to the Mirror of Erised when you broke it. The magical energies upon it were set free in the moment the glass shattered. That backlash of energy hit you full-on, since you were standing in front of it at that moment."

"Okay, with you so far."

"Good, because in order to understand what's specifically happened to you, I need to explain how any of it is possible in the first place. This is where it gets a bit tricky."

She rubs her hands together, really warming up for the challenge of tutoring me, and inwardly, I groan knowing I'm about to undergo one of Hermione's famous crash-courses in magical history. These used to put Ron right to sleep and cause my eyes to glaze over and my brain to go numb back in school. But I love the girl, so I have to at least attempt to follow along. She'd murder me for wasting her time otherwise.

"Right, so what we refer to as 'magic' is really nothing more than different types of energy found in nature that has been channelled through items like wands, or stored in items like special rings or even horcruxes, to perform a particular function for our needs," she jumps right in and already I can feel my head whirling, attempting to latch on to the theory. "For instance, when you want to fly or move something out of the way or summon something through the air to your hand, you're borrowing energy from the gravitational energy field surrounding the earth and refocusing it in a specific manner to achieve your goal. When you want to cast Lumos or create fire, you're borrowing from the radiant energy of the sun and moon and stars to create light and heat. When you're casting a glamour charm to cover up an unsightly mole or using Polyjuice Potion, you're borrowing from the person's own electromagnetic energy to transfigure flesh into something else. Etcetera. Hopefully, you've got the idea."

Well, yes, it seemed rather easy to follow so far. Maybe this wouldn't be one of her typical–

"–and because wizards and witches are born with a stronger electromagnetic field than Muggles and Squibs, they can actually grab hold of those natural energies all around them and use them to perform great feats that seem to defy the laws of nature. Incantations and ritual wand motions allow witches and wizards to perfect their control of those energies and to funnel them with precision—which is why wandless magic is so difficult to master. I really wish they'd teach this theory in school, because I think it would benefit–"

Alright, I was losing her to the compulsion to preach now. It was time to step in before we were totally off on a tangent and my entire lunch hour was gone.

"Focus, Hermione," I joke, snapping my fingers in front of her. "You're off topic. What does any of this have to do with my bad luck?"

No one else I've ever met has been able to top Hermione Granger's ability to make me feel like the world's biggest idiot with a single glance—and that includes my former Professors at Hogwarts, Minerva McGonagall and Severus Snape. One glimpse from that half-shuttered, flat-eyed, admonishing gaze and I swallow hard and shut my mouth, feeling like I've been schooled, hard.

"Fine, I'll cut to the chase, since you're on the clock," she growls, and I know I'm in for it later. "Basically, the electromagnetic energy field that you generate, which allows you to manipulate the energies of the universe, was warped as a result of breaking the mirror and freeing the energy that had been stored up in it. Where before your electromagnetic field was positively charged, now it's negatively charged. Therefore, when you come into direct contact with positively charged energies, you cancel each other out, but when you run head-on into something negatively charged..."

"...I amplify the negative energies all around, which causes disaster," I say, catching on. "Boom!"

See, I'm not a complete dolt.

She nods. "You also attract things that are negatively charged, like illnesses and parasitic vermin, and can accidentally Confundus yourself or others if the build-up of negatively charged particles in the air begins to affect the brain's functioning, like what happened to the Muggle doctors last year when you went into hospital for a tonsillectomy and ended up having your appendix out instead. In any case, that's the source of your supposed bad luck: your electromagnetic energy, also known as your 'magical aura', has been reversed."

I whistled in amazement. "Well, that certainly explains how the Weasley's car was able to seduce my broom away from me. Seems my negative energy chased her out." At Hermione's curious look, I explain, "They ran away together in April."

My companion's giggle is an unexpected, but welcome sound after receiving that death look from her earlier. Unable to help it, I join in, feeling my cheeks suffuse with blood as I move quickly from giggles into guffaws. God, I must be redder than a tomato!

"They actually broke the front window to zoom off into the sunset together! Like some kind of bad romance novel," I say around gasping breath and tears of mirth.

We turn a few heads in the crowded Ministry cafeteria with our raucous laughter, but I don't think either Hermione or I care that we're attracting attention just then, the vision of my broom and Ron's dad's car flying off for the great unknown together like some romance novel hero and heroine too ridiculous not to enjoy just then.

"So, how do I get my aura back to normal?" I ask once the laughter finally dies down, feeling somewhat hopeful about my future for the first time in two years. "There's got to be a way, right?"

"There is, but it will require some work on your part," she says. "It's a good thing you had the forethought to gather up all of the broken shards of the mirror and give them to me to study rather than chuck them in the bin, because as is the case for all magical mirrors that are broken, the accident tied your electromagnetic aura to the glass. In order to right them both, you'll have to cleanse the negative energy from the pieces of the mirror, which will cleanse your magical aura at the same time."

"Cleanse? As in, wash them in soap?" That sounds simple enough.

Hermione shakes her head. "Not in that sense, no. Basically, you have to dust the pieces you collected, and then blow the particles into a new piece of glass, that you will then have to wash in a south-flowing river. What that's done, you'll paint the back with silver, copper, and tin that you mine with your own hands and melt down into liquid form. When the mirror is ready, you then have to magically imbue it with White Magic to do something new—something never done before in the history of magic. Only then will the two of you be separated, and your positive energy flows returned."

"Something new? How in Hades am I supposed to come up with a spell that no one's ever thought before? Is that even possible?"

I suddenly feel all of my earlier optimism leaking away through my fingertips. The handle of my coffee cup cracks and comes off in my hand. I stare at it with a thoughtful frown.

Hermione reaches across the table and takes my other hand, sharing her warmth with me. "I'll help you, Harry. We'll do it together."

When she says such things, there's a part of me that wonders how it is I'm still lucky enough to have this woman in my life.

TO BE CONTINUED...

Author's Notes:

Please review!