Dancing With A Dead Woman

I stepped over the trick stair, wandered up one more flight, and arrived on the landing on the fourth floor. I could walk with my eyes closed; I knew the way so well. It was tragic how well I knew the way, a story of life and death. I stepped through the doorway. My feet felt heavy, and then the feeling descended on the rest of my body. It felt like I was carrying chains, bound to walk and wander forever like old Marley from the Muggle Dickens' books.

I had felt that way ever since one fateful day in my own Hogwarts years, the day that resurfaced in my dreams; the day I would give anything to relive differently.

Tonight I couldn't bear to look. The weight of the imaginary chains doubled, and then tripled.

I couldn't bear to look into the mirror I spent my sleepless nights in front of. It was hours of torment, yet comfort. I hung on to any and every reminder by a thread. It was the only thing that helped me live. That, and her boy.

But ultimately she was the only thing that tied me to this Earth, the one without her in it. The one that she was above. It was irony I couldn't figure out.

Tonight I was dreading the only thing I lived for. How could that be?

The mirror stood on the cold stone floor, waiting for me. It was like a heavy ultimatum, a prison I was chained to forever.

I stood in front of the mirror, seeing only myself. But only for a moment. My knees grew weak as her reflection appeared and mine disappeared. I knelt to the ground with a moan, my tired fingers sliding down the mirror, clawing at the reflection with a tortured grasp.

She looked down straight into my dark, desperate eyes, and it physically pained me to look into her innocent green ones. Her hair blew around her face as if there were a breeze that could only be felt on the other side of the mirror, rustling her translucent veil and billowing white dress with it.

A tall, suit-clad man walked into the mirror from the other side. It was the alternate of myself, younger, able-bodied, and better kept.

I watched the scene unfold as though at a Muggle cinema.

She turned to face the man as he put his hands around her waist, so slim he could reach almost around. His face instantly lit up as she threw her arms around him, running her hands through his shaggy dark hair. He enclosed her in his embrace.

She kissed him passionately and he kissed her with the same passion, if not more. The embraced continued.

I watched with a tormented, regretful fury. I felt a sense of calm and composure at the same time. My hands clenched into fists against the mirror, pure white at the knuckles.

He caressed her slim body as she ran her hands through his hair. They smiled and dotted the embrace with kisses. After a few more moments they pulled away slightly. The man led her in a delicate dance, stepping from side to side, her head on his shoulders that she could barely reach. Reaching the climax of the dance, he dipped her and kissed her as her hair stroked the ground, and then brought her back up. They continued to dance elegantly.

I watched carefully. I watched the alternate of myself dance with the woman whom I loved and had always loved, the woman who had been dead for over fifteen years. I knew that this mirror would never show a reality. Dead women didn't dance, and neither did I. But if I had her I would. I would dance with her all the days of my life.

Lily Evans. I spoke the name. Lily Evans had always been my deepest desire. The second I had seen her, I knew. I knew that if I had her, I would die happy. I would love her more than anyone ever could. That love for her hadn't faded a bit since the twenty-some years that had passed, it had only grown. Each day without her it grew more.

Ever since I had discovered the Mirror of Erised in my own Hogwarts years, I had seen Lily in it. Lily and I had danced in the mirror together every night since third year. Yes, the reflection had changed a bit over the years, but every night it was the two of us.

Every night I danced with a dead woman. Every night I cried for her and what could never be, not even in Heaven, even if I went to Heaven.

I watched the couple kiss in the mirror once more, then collapsed onto the ground. I loved her. I had loved her all my life and would love her long past my dying day.