A/N- Written for the final round of the Diversity Competition on the HPFC forum, for which we had to write a fic focussing on a magical creature or object. I chose the Mirror of Erised :)

Hidden Desire

"And how exactly is this protecting the stone?" Minerva McGonagall asked, a puzzled frown creasing her brow as she stood beside the huge, finely-wrought mirror, which was the only item of furniture in the room.

"You know what the function of this mirror is, I presume?" Albus asked, with a twinkle in his eye, that, having known him for so long, she could tell meant he wanted her to work out the answer to her question herself.

"Yes, but I fail to see how the Mirror of Erised can possibly be used to guard something. Unless it is here merely to distract the seeker?"

Albus smiled and shook his head. "My dear Minerva, the point of asking many people to design obstacles is that not one should have knowledge of how precisely to reach the stone. I would not wish to know the secret behind your own protective magic."

"You have just seen my obstacle, Albus. I would think that it is fairly self-explanatory."

However, the headmaster did not seem inclined to divulge his secret.

"Come, let us get back to work." He swept from their spot beside the mirror and made to leave the cavernous dungeon room, without so much as a glance back to the mirror. Minerva noticed that he was very pointedly not looking into it. They had stood beside it rather than before it, as of course was sensible with an object of such powers. Though, Minerva suspected, with a twinge of sympathy, that Albus' actions were not merely rational precautions, but were based on sadness at the fate of the girl she knew he would see staring back at him.

She followed behind him, but as she reached the exit, a sudden irrational longing to turn back overcame her. She knew the mirror was now directly behind her. It was ridiculous to want to see the false hopes the mirror projected, but somehow, in that split second, she convinced herself that she could look back, just for a moment.

So she turned.

She supposed she had expected to see her late husband, Elphinstone, whom she still missed terribly at times. Or perhaps her mother. Or perhaps even Dougal McGregor, the young man she had loved so deeply as a young girl. But what she did see in the mirror both came as quite a shock, and yet instantly felt right.

Standing beside her reflection was a young girl.

The girl was so familiar, and yet so new. She looked almost exactly as Minerva had herself at that age, not more than twelve years old, yet with tiny differences. Her hair was a little lighter, her eyes a little darker. She had slightly rounder cheeks and a slightly thinner nose. Minerva had never seen this girl in her life and yet she knew exactly who it was. And she wished that she had known her.

The girl was her daughter.

Minerva had never really wanted children. Occasionally, though, she would picture a girl, who was a miniature version of her. Who would confide in her and learn from her and make her mother proud. She was not naive enough to think that this would ever come true. She was a teacher after all and she knew full well that raising children was never quite that straightforward. But she still sometimes allowed herself to wonder what her daughter might have been like.

Children had never been anything in which she thought she was lacking. In a way she had had hundreds. She might act strict and aloof, but in fact, she considered every child sorted into Gryffindor house a child to her. And she had her nieces and nephews, who would still visit from time to time.

But now, Minerva realised that there was nothing else that mirror could have shown her which would fill her with such longing. And the regret that she would now never know that little girl was breaking her heart.

She felt a hand on her shoulder.

"Minerva, my dear," Albus spoke softly, his voice full of understanding, "come now, it does not do to dwell on the past."

Reluctantly, she tore herself away from her little girl's face and looked up at her friend. Albus, who knew her so well, seemed to think she was seeing her husband, just as she had expected.

As they walked back through the maze of enchanted dungeons, she reflected on how deeply that desire must have been hidden, that not even her closest friends had sensed its existence. That she had not even admitted it to herself.