1200 word oneshot exploring an idea of what happened after the war. Harry/Hermione, some Harry/Ginny. Trigger for suicide.

Running a hand through my already tussled hair, I sighed loudly, stretching out on my couch so that my head was resting in the lap of my wife. My head got shaken around a bit as I felt her change her position to make me more comfortable, and I smiled and closed my eyes as she ran her fingers over my hair.

"You okay, babe?" Ginny asked me distractedly, the rustling of papers in the background.

"Yeah, I'm good." I rolled onto my side so that my nose was touching the edge of her stomach. I angled my face upward and kissed the growing bulge underneath her shirt.

"Then could you lay down somewhere else? I don't mean to be dismissive, but I have my next test at St. Mungo's in two days and I'm still not sure what ingredients prevent spattergroit from spreading from person to person so quickly." Nodding dejectedly, I got up and padded into the bedroom, closing the door behind me with a soft click.

I flopped backwards onto the bed with a sigh, feeling lonelier and lonelier with each passing . I laid my arm over my eye so that my nose was nestled in the crook of my elbow. Next thing I knew, Ginny was shaking me awake gently asking me to scoot over. I complied and snuck a peek at the alarm clock on the bedside table.

"Gin, are you only just now getting to bed?"

"Yeah, why?

I scoffed a little as we arranged ourselves under the covers. "Well, it's almost four AM. Isn't that a little bit late, especially when you should be resting up for your test?"

She yawned and shrugged, and that was the end of the conversation. Feeling desperate, I slid closer to her and wrapped my arm around her, resting my hand on her belly and kissing her shoulder. "Love you both."

She groaned and rolled over to face me. "Harry, it's too hot in here."

Getting her message, I rolled away from her and sighed again, feeling dismissed again. I closed my eyes, struggling through the crippling feelings of losing her when she was so close.

Suddenly I was walking through the halls of Hogwarts with a purpose. I seemed to know where I wanted to go, though I really had no clue where I was heading. The walls kept morphing and warping into each other, although the floor remained straight and flat. I followed the corridor as it shifted around me, unafraid and to the point.

I ended up in front of a plain stone wall, void of any chatty portraits or breezy landscapes or smelly tapestries. I walked back and forth three times, and it dawned on me where I was - I need a place to meet her. A door visualized in front of me, starting from the ground and growing vertically.

Grabbing the door handle, I went inside, expecting to see some girl - but again, unsure of what I was doing in this place. Looking around, I saw nothing but an old, tarnished mirror with a slightly rotted wooden frame and black lettering in script along the top of the glass.

"Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi."I muttered. I stepped in front of it, aching to see my family. My mother's hand upon my shoulder, my father running a hand through his hair and grinning at me foolishly. Instead I saw a figure approaching me from behind, with a head of hair whose unruliness rivaled my own. I grinned, recognizing the figure at once.

"Hermione," I breathed. She came forward and stood next to me, but when I looked to my side, there was no one standing there. "Why can't you be real?"

The girl in the mirror smiled, her teeth back to how they had been when I first met her; buck-toothed and strange. I couldn't help but smile back even as my chest ached in agony.

"You didn't have to leave any of us, you know." I said to the girl. "We all were hurting." Tears springing to my eyes, I pointed at my chest. "I would have helped you. Merlin knows I've had to learn how to deal with pain, 'Mione."

The mirror-Hermione rested her hand on my upper arm, pulling it close to her. I closed my eyes, and could almost feel her fingers gripping me tight. I could almost feel her lips soft against my ear, whispering that she had never left.

I opened my eyes again and shifted them to my side again, where she would have stood. I directed my gaze back to the Mirror of Erised, a lump rising in my throat the longer I looked at her face, studying every curve and dimple. "Why didn't you tell any of us? You just left, never saying a word aloud. Do you even know who it was that found you?" I squeezed my eyes tight, begging the tears not to fall. "It was me, Hermione. You wrote the note to Ron, but I was the one who found you. He never gave a shit about you, 'Mione. It was always me. Always." I turned away from the girl who just kept smiling at me and leaning towards me.

My eyes snapped open, aching with the effort of having them shut tight for so long, even in my sleep. I glanced at the alarm clock. One minute before my alarm would have gone off anyway. I shifted my glance to the other side of the bed, hating myself for wishing so badly that a mane of tangled brown hair was spilled out over the pillows. Instead, the pillows and blankets were bare. Ginny had gone to bed at four and gotten up before eight. I stretched slowly, pulling myself up and out of bed. Shuffling into the living room, I stopped in the doorway.

"Hey," I greeted, swallowing my remorse when a nod was given back from my wife. "I'm going to visit her today."

Ginny's eyes snapped up to me, locking with them instantly. "Do you want me to come?"

I shook my head, turning back into my bedroom to change clothes. I Apparated to Hermione from there, never saying goodbye to Gin.

"Mr. Potter," a Healer addressed me tonelessly. "Visiting the usual, today?"

I sent a sharp glance at the insensitive wording, but nodded and accepted the hospital ID they passed me. I headed up to her room, the steps counted and memorized.

I sat down in my chair, next to her bed. Taking her hand into mine, I watched her expressionless face. Eight years since the war. Six since her first breakdown. Five since her first attempt. Four since she came so close she put herself in a coma. I imagine she had this planned. Her hospital papers, the ones that say whether or not she wants any magical measures taken to wake her up, were changed just a few weeks before she tried.

I rubbed my thumb across hers.

"I loved you, you know? You thought Ron did." I looked up, blinking. "I love you." Leaning forward, I kissed her on the tip of her nose. The feature she hated the most. "You are my Erised."