ERISED
The girl sat on the dusty floor of the unused classroom, framed by the darkness of the half open doorway. She had been careless, leaving the door in that state, he thought as he watched her in silence. She sat transfixed – a statue illuminated by the ghostly beams of a midwinter moon. She did not hear the slight creak of the door, nor did she notice the soft swish of his cloak as he slipped into the room. In fact, she seemed completely unaware of anything, save the mirror before her.
His eyes flickered to the familiar gilded frame, glancing across words he knew by heart.
ERISED STRA EHRU OYT UBE CAFRU OYT ON WOHSI
As quietly as he could, he crept across the room and knelt down beside her. "I thought you might be here," he leaned over and whispered.
She gasped, starting at the invisible voice that had murmured in her ear. He smiled slightly, allowing the cloak to slide away from his face, catching around his shoulders. Her brows wrinkled as she recognized the familiar face, but in a look of consternation rather than relief.
"You frightened me, Harry."
He had an urge to tease her about being out so late, but he suppressed it as she frowned, turning back to the mirror. He turned to stare into its dark surface, unable to see his own desire from where he had crouched. Only a pale reflection of himself and Ginny stared back in the moonlight. There was a long silence. When he realized she was not going to speak, he cleared his throat and asked the obligatory question.
"So… what do you see?"
He looked away from her face casually as he spoke, but it did not matter - her eyes didn't waver from the mirror as she answered his question with one of her own. "Do you know what it means – what I see in the mirror, that is? Can't you see it too?"
Harry shook his head. "You can only see your own Erised, never someone else's. And in any case, I can't tell you what your Erised means until you tell me what you see." It was not an entirely truthful answer, he knew, but a strange curiosity had overcome his usual polite reserve. Her frown deepened, as if she sensed his lie. "I won't laugh," he added hastily. "Promise."
She let out the smallest of sighs before replying. "I see… myself…" she began hesitantly.
"Go on," he prompted after a moment of silence.
"… and… I see you. But you're different," she added abruptly.
The first part of her confession made his insides tingle in a strange way, but the second part allowed him to ignore it. He frowned. "Different how?"
Ginny broke out of her trance, turning to look at him. Her round eyes gazed into his, catching him unguarded. "You don't have… I mean, you're missing…" her voice faded as words failed her, and in their place she traced a jagged line down her own forehead with a pale fingertip.
Harry had not known what her answer would be, but his breath caught in his chest at this revelation. His lungs seemed to have suddenly stopped working, leaving a funny burn both around his heart and behind his eyes. He stepped backwards, leaving Ginny alone in the beam of moonlight. She remained seated, gazing into the mirror once more. Her freckles stood out against the unusual pallor of her skin, and she remained still and silent. Of all the things for her to see…
He turned away from the mirror, hastily swiping beneath his glasses with the back of his hand. His lungs and heart had recovered and were now working overtime. He struggled to force his insides back into their normal rhythms.
"What does it mean Harry?" Ginny's voice cut through the silence, lost and wavering slightly, yet demanding an answer. He turned to see that she had pulled herself to her feet, and was now facing him. She was trembling, and had wrapped her arms tightly around her body. Memories of Tom Riddle and the Chamber of Secrets surfaced unpleasantly in Harry's mind. Ron had once mentioned Ginny's boggart in serious conversation. Harry knew how her first year had affected her. She knew – and she was the only one who knew, the only one who could ever understand that part of him. He suddenly realized he had closed his eyes on Ginny Weasley, and he reopened them, looking at her as if though for the first time.
She was still standing in the shaft of pale moonlight, looking so very fragile and delicate. And yet her hair gleamed with a fire that refused to be extinguished by the dancing shadows. She stood there, shaking in her thin white night dress, her coppery, wispy curls glowing around her face like a halo. He felt a sudden impulse to take the few steps necessary, to stand with her in the moonlight and hold her hands in his and never, ever let go. He wanted nothing more than to protect her; nothing more than to be her Erised…
Her eyes shone through the darkness, awaiting an answer.