Challenge #1: Mirror of Erised

Title: Impossible Rating: PG-13 Warnings: character death Word Count: 481

"This is wicked!" Ron exclaimed, preening in front of the gilded mirror in the dark and dusty corner of Grimmauld Place's attic. "Ron Weasley, Minister of Magic. Never thought I'd look the part."

He beamed at himself before turning to Hermione, who was standing right next to him.

"What do you see?" he asked softly, taking note of the sudden sad expression crossing his best friend's face. Hermione, who had been so ecstatic after unexpectedly uncovering the Mirror of Erised during their random house-cleaning, had gone quiet, the grin on her lips fading into a thin line.

He glanced at her and back into the mirror, as if he'd see her desires there. But all he saw was himself dressed as Minister—no Hermione and whatever she sees.

"Hermione?" he asked again.

"Nothing, Ron. You go tell Harry and Lupin we found the Mirror of Erised. I'll just…go up and…get something from my room," she said, quickly turning away and stalking over to the door. "You may want to tell them it's broken, though."

"Wait, Hermione!" Ron called, but she had already sprinted away and with a loud bang, closed the door to her and Ginny's room.

Hermione collapsed on top of her bed, fresh tears springing into her eyes as she muffled her sobs into her pillow. She couldn't erase the reflection in the mirror from her mind.

It was impossible.

She sat up and rubbed her eyes, determined to look brave even though no one was looking. She reached under the pillow and extracted a photograph. Her shaky hands slowly brought it up towards the light through the window.

It was a photo of a bushy-haired girl, twenty-one years old by the looks of it, and a platinum-haired boy the same age as the girl. They were standing side-by-side, faces sullen at being forced to pose together.

Contradictory. Perfect.

She was brainy, calm, and composed. He was brazen, hot-headed, and easy to provoke. But they looked perfect together, nonetheless. Looked being the keyword there.

At that thought, more tears welled up and streamed down her cheeks. It blurred her vision, but she couldn't take her eyes away from the frowning young man in the photo—his fair hair, silver-gray eyes, aristocratic features…his soft lips… The lips she hadn't kissed for months now.

iThe Mirror of Erised has a knack of showing the impossible/i, she thought bitterly.

Outside, Harry and Ron stood by her door.

"What d'you reckon she saw, mate?" Ron asked quietly.

"I have a feeling that what she saw was the same as—" Harry paused, looked around, and continued more softly, "Malfoy's."

A look of understanding crossed Ron's face. "Right. Too bad the bloke's gone. No more chance for little Dramione babies…It'll be just a reflection in that mirror."

Harry nodded and patted Ron's shoulder, signaling that it was time they go comfort their best friend.

END.