I come here everyday, this small, dank and abandoned classroom. The dust threatens to clog my lungs at times and during the late summer the humidity swamps me and lures me into heavy placation. I could sit in front of this mirror forever, talking with my imagination, living in a place where she could possibly love a vile creature like me. Erised, one of the greatest wizards of all time has granted me this reprieve, and I do owe him my life. For without these stolen hours with Mirror Lilly, I fear I would have disappeared from this bloody plane of existence long ago.
The very first time I stumbled upon it, Lilly and I got into a tiff because she wanted to stay in the library with her Gryffindor friends instead of going down to the lake to study with me. I ran off, afraid that somebody would see the tears welling in my eyes and the color emerging from beneath my robes. I ran and ran and then I found the Mirror, tucked in a dusty classroom on the fourth floor. As I pulled the thick burlap sheet off of the mirror I saw her standing behind me. Horrified I turned around, but I was still all alone. Turning back, she was there again. Even those who have grown up surrounded by magic can still be dumbfounded by it. And hers, Lilly Evans, her magic was a kind I've never experienced from anyone or anything else. It was tangible in the air, in her scent and voice, in the way her lively green eyes fixed on you. Lilly Evans was magic itself. And in the Mirror, she came up behind me, looking repentant, looking like she cared about me. She wrapped her arms around me and rested her small, pale face against my shoulder, letting her gorgeous crimson hair spill down my back as she tipped her face to mine.
"I'm sorry, Sev." she whispered, oh so delicately.
"No, Lilly, I'm sorry." I stared at my reflection, watched the way the tears slid down my face and onto the tip of my nose. I waited, watching, to see if she would be dispelled by my leaking shame. I squeezed my eyes shut, holding on to the beauty of her, the image of her smallness pressed against me in a tender embrace. But I knew this wasn't real, that it never could be real. She would never hold me like this, love me like I loved her. I collapsed onto the floor in front of the Mirror, my back facing it. On my knees, I held my sides together as I convulsed with the bitter admittance that the only love I could ever expect would come from a magicked mirror and my imagination. It burned, soured, smothered all the light inside of me, all of the drive to do anything and be anything. Anything that didn't result in having her near me, imagined or otherwise.
I wiped my face, and tidied up my robes. Then quickly, quietly made my way to the Slytherin dungeons, to relive the embrace until sleep overtook me.