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[ It's one of the nights where Hermione has drunk her tea and isn't quite prepared to take the potion that she lifts her mirror, waiting to see if Dorian picks up himself. She's not an idiot; she knows who has been taking care of her, quietly, even if the servants don't let her know.

She knows they all know that she and Gilgamesh haven't spoken, too, and rumours are abound.

Closing her eyes, she holds the mirror gently, waiting, not to see if he picks up but if he actually keeps it or uses it. ]

[At the precise moment, it does not actually give a few of Dorian. Instead, it gives a few of the ceiling of Dorian's bedroom in his house in Parrais. It's a very nice ceiling. The gold is pretty. Faintly, muffled and distant, noises seem to come from through a few doors—or rather, from down a hallway.

Dorian is totally doing his evening wash-your-face-and-other-grooming-habits-so-you-look-pretty routine.]

[ Strangely enough... It's comforting. Hermione just sits, staring at the roof of Dorian's house with a fondness that she can't ignore, breathing out. She can hear something, a noise of sorts, whatever he is doing (and at least he's not busy, that would be mortifying) and that's enough to make her relax, laying back in her pillows.

She has her servants, of course, and the people that she cares about, all who would be happy to sit with her, but even now she doesn't want to bother them with this. It's been months and she's seen death before. She will just take this, her eyes closing as she holds the mirror in a light hand, soft and unsure. ]

[Noise from down the hall—an opening door, Dorian calling out to someone (probably his servant), approaching footsteps, and then he's in his room.

Of course, this is the night time routine, so it's a good thing that mirror is pointing up. Dorian's taking his daywear off to get into his nightclothing, after all.]

[ It's not as though her eyes are open or she's peeking!

It's just nice to not be alone. It's nice to hear the sound of someone around her, as if there's someone for her to talk to or to share her day with, and she breathes out a little hum of contentment as she settles under her thick duvet, rubbing the heel of her palm into her eyes.

No Dreamless Sleep, she thinks. I can do this. The tea had to have been enough and she has to wean herself eventually, doesn't she?

Her fingers brush over the reflection of the mirror, stroking over the roof of Dorian's house. ]

[He hears the noise. It confuses him. He stops with his nightshirt half on.]

Hello?

[It could be either of his servants, honestly. Although it was more like Gilgamesh to be lurking around invisibly.

But it didn't sound like a man's voice.]

Oh. Um.

[ She shifts, awkwardly, pushing the mirror away from her a little, as if that might distract and make it less... Strange, what she'd been doing. ]

It's me - the mirror, Dorian. I was just going to say hello and thank you but I realised you weren't in the room.

[Hermione?

Dorian walks over to the source of the sound. And he remembers the mirror: a gift from last Yule and a hundred years ago. He grasps the handle, lifts it up so he can see her properly.]

Thanks for what? [Managing to sound innocent about that because he . . . genuinely doesn't know what she's thanking him for. Derp.] It's good to see you. Oh—are you heading to sleep? [based on how she is in the duvet and all.]

[His night shirt is still only half on]

You know exactly what for.

[ She's in her own nightclothes, of course, the same set she had worn when he'd been here and slept with her - at her side! - and she's as comfortable as she can be with the creeping darkness around her. Even his own state of undress doesn't distract her; she just smiles and shakes her head. ]

I was about to try. It's... The first time without the potion. I can't use it forever.

[ Hence the nerves. ]

[Ah, now he does know. He puts down the mirror a second so he can finally put his night shirt on. Then he picks it back up and gets into his own bed.]

There is something I hear drug dealers say about sampling their own product.

[He may be teasing her, but he has taken her mirror with him into bed.]

I'm not a drug dealer.

[ She reaches to pick up her mirror again, tilting it so she can look at him before she smiles and shakes her head. ]

But I do appreciate it. The servants spoke very fondly of you, even if they didn't mention any names.

That's kind of them. [He'll just fix the pillow up so that it can get pinioned properly so Dorian can turn on his side and look at her.] I didn't expect them to keep the secret, in truth.

It wasn't too hard to work out who was sending me my own potions, Dorian.

[ She thumbs the hilt of the mirror before she sighs. ]

I didn't mean to bother you. You must be tired.

So must you. I thought you wanted company. For sleeping.

[ She pauses, eyebrow rising. ]

I don't need sleeping company. Not - I'm fine.

[ She says, pink. ]

If you say so. But don't mind if I just fall to sleep like this. [He punctuates this point with a yawn and the shutting of his eyes.]

[ She softens. ]

Dorian, if I do...

[ Have a nightmare. She hisses. ]

You can turn the mirror away.

I promise not to turn the mirror off if it seems like you're having a really engaging dream.

[He doesn't mean nightmares.]

Dorian!

[ She frowns, leaning forward. ]

That better not mean what I think it means.

[He is so good at looking so innocent. It's the devil's magic.]

I'm not certain what you might be alluding to. I only mean that I respect your privacy.

[ She raises her eyebrows... Before she shakes her head and smiles. ]

Of course. How could I ever imagine otherwise?

Go to sleep, Hermione. [He flicks the mirror at the forehead.] I'll be here.

[ She hesitates before she nods, settling down. Then, her voice, quiet: ]

Thank you.

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mid-march, mirrors.

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WE CAN'T BE FRIENDS shouts dorian gray totally convincingly as he cradles hermione to his heart

love me love me say that you love me