JKR owns.

Deepest Desires

Part One

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[AN]: This is one of the first ficlets I dreamed up many, many eons ago. That explains its randomness. ;]

You know the drill: ready, enjoy, review, feel good about yourself for reviewing, and repeat.

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Harry entered the dark cellar, wand drawn, and eyes ablaze- scanning the room desperately for the fifth horcrux.

They had heard from a reliable source that Lucius Malfoy, being the dark arts collector he was, had purchased a cursed staff from a dealer about a decade ago. Rumor has it, that staff was Rowena Ravenclaw's staff, and Voldemort's fifth horcrux.

That's what had driven Harry, and a few other trusted Order members to invade the Malfoy Manor that fateful night. As their luck would have it, Lucius had just returned home with a few of his Death Eater friends while Harry, Lupin, and Tonks were still on the first floor searching through rooms.

Tonks had tripped and knocked over a very expensive vase, which alerted the Death Eaters immediately.

There wasn't much time left.

Harry took a few steps forward, about to go searching through a large imposing wardrobe that rested on the far right of the room when something caught his eye.

Harry's mouth dropped open as he started to read the Latin script circling around the metal frame.

"The Mirror of Erised," he muttered, mesmerized by its presence. He thought that the mirror had been destroyed in his first year. But studying the mirror closer, he could see that there were a few differences that he hadn't remembered from the first time.

It looked a bit shabbier- almost daintier. The finish wasn't as impressive and the mirror looked to be as if it were some sort of remake.

He stepped fully in front of it, wanting to see if it held the same power as it once had, or at least the one he remembered.

Unbeknownst to Harry, he had just took a step that would change his life forever.

The shimmering mist started to settle and the figure of a person could be identified. A few moments later, Harry appeared.

He was less scrawny, and more clean shaven in the mirror. The scar above his left eye was nothing but a faint wrinkle.

The mirror Harry smiled down at the real Harry, before turning around and opening his arms wide.

Harry frowned, wondering what was happening. Then he saw it. He saw her. Or more importantly, her lips pressing against his.

Harry's heart skipped a beat as he watched the two images of himself and Hermione kiss each other passionately and then pull apart, only to stare lovingly at each other before leaning back into their embrace.

"Harry?" whispered a voice next to him.

Harry closed his eyes. This was a mistake… he knew even though he told her not to, she would have just followed him in as soon as he dipped his head into the pensieve.

The door to the Malfoy cellar blew open, and Harry watched as a beam of red light shot into his back, knocking him into the glass and rendering him unconscious.

That was the end. The memory faded and Harry pulled away, falling onto his back as he finally left his memory and entered back to his reality. He let out a mild groan and rubbed at his lower back, still feeling the pain inflicted by the stupefy from earlier that day. Thank Merlin for Tonks and Lupin, because together they successfully apparated Harry away from the place before the Death Eaters could do anything more substantial.

He was in the library at number twelve Grimmauld place now, with books and maps scattered around their central area. Harry and Hermione had decided to stay up late to see if they could get some extra work done on Ravenclaw's staff while the others were attending Bill Weasley's wedding rehearsal.

Hermione had made the suggestion that it'd be a good idea to go back into Harry's memory to double check if the staff was at the Malfoy's. Since Harry was slammed with a surprise curse, the details were all a bit foggy to him.

But now, thanks to that embarrassing recall, he remembered perfectly.

He heard a light thud on the other side of the pensieve. He didn't think he could bear hearing Hermione's objection to what they had witnessed. Quickly he stood and headed for the door.

"Harry, wait!" Hermione sputtered throwing the hair out of her face and standing up.

"Look Hermione, I'm really tired and I think I'll just go to bed," Harry said, not looking back at her.

"Harry-" He had reached out to grasp the door handle when it twisted and the door opened.

"Oh there you two are!" greeted Tonks's cheery voice.

"Whoa Tonks," Harry mumbled as the purple haired woman threw her arms around Harry's neck.

"I've missed you little buddy," she giggled, her nose changing from a pig's snout to a bird's beak.

Harry couldn't help but let out a laugh, "Um, okay…"

"Oh, sorry about that Harry," Lupin panted, jogging up to them and grabbing hold of Tonks's waist, "Someone had a few too many shots of fire whiskey tonight."

Tonks grinned proudly and pointed to herself, "They bet-tet-ed that I couldn't drink as many as them."

"Let me guess; Charlie, Fred, and George betted you that?"

"Yep," Tonks swayed and Lupin fumbled with her. Letting out a breath, he looked back to Hermione, "Do you think you could go up and help her change? I have a feeling if I were to go up there she wouldn't let me leave and I have to get going to the Shrieking Shack for tomorrow's full moon."

Hermione shot a desperate look to Harry but he refused to meet her gaze. She finally sighed, "Fine."

"Thank you." Lupin handed Tonks off to Hermione. The woman laughed hysterically as Hermione drug her out of the room.

Lupin let out a breath and smiled hopefully at Harry, "So? How's the research going?"

Harry gave him a blank stare before turning and walking out of the library, headed towards his room.

Lupin blew out another breath, "Not well I take it…"

…

Harry quietly closed his trunk inside his room at Grimmauld place. It had only been a day since their trip into the pensieve, and already Hermione was proving difficult in letting the memory be forgotten.

He'd had to avoid her all day. She was up, knocking on his bedroom door at the crack of dawn that morning, gently calling out his name, begging to be let in. However, Harry had played like he was asleep. Eventually, Tonks came along, complaining of a head ache and the explosions going off in the house. Harry used that as his opportunity to escape under his invisibility cloak; he apparated to the bathroom, where he knew he would at least have another hour our two of privacy.

Throughout the rest of the day, he had stayed close with Lupin and Tonks, trusting that Hermione wouldn't mention anything about it while they were around. She had her own humiliation to worry about too, you know. Lupin had found it odd, sure; usually Harry enjoyed having his independence around the house. He didn't want his father's last great friend to think that he was completely hopeless with Dumbledore gone. He wanted to show that he could be proven to get things done without an Order member's help. Of course, Lupin and Tonks weren't really sure what they were helping with. While Harry had revealed the truth of the horcruxes to Ron and Hermione last year, Dumbledore had implored him to not reveal the secret to anyone else. Even though he was gone now, Harry didn't think it was right for him to break the promise he'd made to his old headmaster.

Nevertheless, Lupin didn't comment on the atypical behavior Harry displayed today. There were a few confused looks shared between him and Tonks, but other than that, they stayed quiet and dutifully went about helping out with Harry's searching of west Scotland.

But it was nighttime now, and there was no one else he could hide behind. Harry could tell that Hermione was getting annoyed with him, and that was the reason for his quiet packing.

Harry had to leave. Day by day in this place, it was getting harder and harder to focus on the mission. Ron had been gone, staying with his family so far that summer. He thought that his hunt, and Tonks and Lupin staying at Grimmauld place too, would be distraction enough. But he was wrong.

Wherever he went, she was always there. And now that she knew the truth…

It was hard to keep pulling himself away from her advances. He wanted to be selfish; he wanted to give in and tell her the truth of what she'd seen in his memory, but he knew he couldn't do that to her. It wasn't fair. He… he would just have to deal with his feelings, and hope that Hermione would one day forget about what she saw in the Mirror. It was as simple as that. Well, it wasn't really, but for now, it had to be.

He needed to keep focused. For her… for the rest of the world. This was a mission that only he could finish, and the sooner he got it over with, the sooner everyone else could go back to living happily.

He finished zipping the duffle bag he had packed his few outfits into. After a quick shrinking spell, he slipped it gently into his pocket. Next he turned to Hedwig. He gave her an apologetic look, and then muttered, "Silencio."

The spell hit the cage without any noise, and the bird instantly glared at him. She never did like it when he did that to her.

Harry turned around in the room, glancing it over for anything he might've missed. He didn't have much time, but he couldn't help reminiscing over the memories this room had in it. He and Ron had stayed here two years ago when Harry first learned of Grimmauld Place… back when Sirius was alive, and Harry had yet to hear of any prophecy made about him. This was the place that he first realized that he like Hermione, as more than friends…

Harry grimaced at that particular thought. If only he had acted on his feelings earlier instead of being a rude git to her that year, then maybe he wouldn't be going through this right now. They could've had time together… he would never have even bothered to get over her with Cho. He never would've bothered to pay Ginny any attention, because if he'd had it his way, Hermione would've returned his feelings immediately, and they would've been together.

The what-if was making him sick to his stomach. He couldn't stand thinking of what a fool he'd been, or how much time he'd wasted. What happened to staying focused?

With a deep breath, Harry glanced around the room once more, before shrinking his trunk, swiping it off the ground, and heading to grab Hedwig's cage.

He closed his eyes, a firm grip on his owl's cage, and disapparated.

If only he would have lingered for a few extra seconds, he would have heard the soft pop of someone apparating into his room.

Hermione looked around for Harry after getting over the unsettling sensation she felt in her stomach every time she apparated. After a few minutes of searching the room, she declared it empty, and fell back onto Harry's bed with heavy tears flowing out of her eyes.

…

September 1st; 7th Year

Hermione boarded the Hogwarts Express with as little enthusiasm she had ever remembered feeling while doing so. Usually, she was excited and quite eager to get back to the halls of Hogwarts, to once again stalk the library shelves, panic over seeing Ron and Harry play quidditch, and stay up late with them in the Gryffindor common room.

However, all of those feelings were gone ever since Harry disappeared.

She'd be lying to herself if she said that she was not hopeful to see him on the platform, smiling sheepishly at them and apologizing for his lack of contact. However, no such appearance happened. Hermione felt even more like she didn't belong there now. Hogwarts without Harry… well, it didn't seem like home. Harry felt like home, and now that he was gone, she might as well have been gone too. N.E.W.T.'s, being selected Head Girl… none of it mattered really.

She knew that Ron and Ginny were shooting worried looks at her from behind her back. But she didn't care. They had tried all summer to bring her out of her melancholy, but they had yet to succeed. She half wondered why they were still putting up with her. Especially Ron.

The other member of their trio had tried to talk to her about their supposed feelings for each another one evening at the Burrow, but Hermione had instantly quieted him on the issue. There were no longer any feelings. The memory of Harry pulling her into his arms and giving her a passionate kiss had made sure of that. Even though it hadn't really happened, she couldn't just forget about it.

She would never forget about it. She would never forget about him, either. Despite her gloominess, she held on to one optimistic hope:

One day, she knew, Harry would come back. He was going to defeat Voldemort. And when he came back to them, she was going to smack him over the head for leaving and not letting her know where she was. Once he was done apologizing with the sheepish grin she knew he would use, she would tell him that she loved him too.

Then he would kiss her, like he did in the mirror. Feverishly. Passionately. Lovingly.

At least, that's what her mirror showed her. That was, in the plainest definition, Hermione Granger's deepest desire.

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