Hermione walked slowly down the halls of Hogwarts Castle. It was late at night, but she was not breaking the rules, of course. Oh no, Hermione would never do anything of the sort. She was a woman now. She was allowed to wander the castle's corridors at night. She was merely visiting Hogwarts. Merely visiting it. She was here to help the students in preparation for their O.W.L's. Seeing as she had done so well on her own, the new headmaster of Hogwarts had called her here to help. But today had been her last day of helping, and tomorrow she would head back to her home. Back to her husband. Back to her new life. The one without… well… without him.
As Hermione walked, her fingers slid lightly across the stone walls, sliding silently as she headed in no particular direction. She didn't know what she was doing. She didn't know why she was wandering. But she could not sleep. Not here. Not in the last place which she had ever seen him. Deep purple circles danced beneath her sunken eyes. Her bushy hair cascaded down her shoulders, a little bit limp with grease. Her ribs stuck out slightly, her hands and knees knobby. She bore almost no resemblance to her old self. Not now. Not after… not after… well, she didn't want to think about that.
As she turned the corridor, she saw that one of the classrooms had not been locked for the night. With nothing better to do, knowing that sleep would never come to her, she entered this room. It had tall windows, and moonlight drifted gently into the room, creating a beautiful, soft, light glow. It reminded her of a night very long ago. A beautiful night back when she had been a beautiful young girl. When she had been with him.
She stared out the window for a while, at the silky black night sky, before turning to look at the room around her. She did not recognize it, but that did not surprise her. She knew she didn't know everything about Hogwarts. No one did. Except maybe George and – she stopped that thought. No. She would not dare to think about it. Or else she might break down. Cry her soul out. Break her fragile bones with sobs so brutal they could cause death just by listening to them.
The thought of her dead carcass lying in the gentle moonlight, waiting to be found by a student about to enter for their next class, took over her mind, she settled in a strange kind of peace. At least this… vision… did not hurt to think about. It was not real. It would never be real. Fantasies are so much better than memories.
Now, Hermione turned, ready to leave the classroom and wander some more, when something in the corner caught her eye. Knowing she had all the time in the world and nothing to do with it, she walked silently over to the strange object. As she approached, she realized it was a mirror. She looked at its strange inscriptions, in words or maybe runes, which even she couldn't make out. But then, her eyes drifted down, into the mirror itself. With a gasp, she saw him, standing beside her, smiling, waving and laughing. Her head whipped around, but no one was there.
"Fred?" she whispered, tears shining in her eyes. She reached out her hand, pressing it flat against the cold surface of the mirror. Fred's hand was outstretched too. In the mirror, it was covering her own. In the mirror, he was kissing her neck, just like he used to. But in reality… in reality, there was nothing there. Nothing but the empty air.
And that was when she finally broke. After years of keeping it together, after years of pretending it was all alright, she broke. Sobs filled the room, echoing in the empty night. Sobs that would wake students up in the dead of night where they would listen, but their conscious mind not hear anything and wonder what had taken their precious sleep from them. Sobs that were so full of pain and loss and lies and horror and every other brutal feeling Hermione had been keeping within herself for many, many years.
"Fred," she whispered through her tears. "Fred. Fred!"
Her whispers soon turned to cries of hysteria as she knelt on the floor, one hand pressed against the Mirror of Erised, the other reaching up absently, trying, and failing, always failing, to reach the one she loved.