Denied Dreams

Characters: Hermione Granger, implied Draco Malfoy, implied OC

Prompt 04: You know they would have gorgeous children.

Word count: 939

Harry Potter and the associated characters and world are © J.K. Rowling.

Hogwarts has always been a strange place. Its' hallways twist and move and never seem to be the same twice in a row. There are seven noted floors, though that does not take the deep dungeons into account, with rooms hidden far below the Black Lake.

Rowena Ravenclaw herself had planned the movements of the staircases, though of course any patterns had been lost to time, maybe even due to her own actions, as with the loss of her Diadem. Salazar Slytherin had even contributed, allegedly creating the Chamber of Secrets and hiding it away in rumours and myth, its' existence undiscovered by the 'unworthy' for centuries.

There are halls exclusively for parties and rooms only for receiving students. Some are huge, some tiny; some change, like the ceiling of the Great Hall, and some never do, like filthy Dungeon Five. There are viaducts and bridges and doors that pretend to be walls, as well as walls that pretend to be doors and paintings that communicate more effectively than some people and portrayals of mermaids in stained-glass windows that cry as well as any human.

In this place of strangeness and magic, of course, objects have been hidden. The Room of Requirement, finally located again seven years after the war, still hides a maze of teetering towers comprised of the discarded possessions that had accumulate over the centuries. There is a vanishing cabinet on one floor, where a student once vanished for a night years ago, and was made terribly ill. The Philosophers' Stone would have remained hidden beneath the school for years, if not for the meddling of Lord Voldemort and Harry Potter. The Chamber of Secrets, too, would still be no more than a myth if not for them, and the passage under the Whomping Willow a dream of dead men.

All of this passes through the mind of Hermione Granger in an instant, leaving her alone and without any more facts. Sitting alone in a disused classroom on the fourth floor, the new Transfiguration professor no longer has a means to comfort herself, no thoughts left to distract her curious mind from the object before her.

Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi.

"I show not your face but your hearts' desire," Hermione reads in a whisper, her lips barely moving: she has found the Mirror of Erised.

She can recall Harry's story of the thing, of Dumbledore's vague warnings and his own miracles. The happiest man on Earth would look into it and it would behave as a normal mirror, because they desired nothing more than what they had. Her curiosity has her wishing that she knew more of its' history, not just its' modification under Dumbledore's care. Her rationalisation pushes the impossibility of lost history aside, and she feels something cold against her legs: at some point, she has sat upon a desk opposite the Mirror.

Her reflection is sitting in a light filled room, a large window behind her displaying a beautiful day in a countryside, the sky grey enough to justify staying indoors, but still pleasant. A man at her side leans down to kiss her on the cheek, lips moving as though he is speaking. It seems so very real – but, though she swears she feels the kiss, the real her hears nothing out of place.

The man moves to sit beside the reflection of Hermione, revealing what he has in his arms. The baby, a boy, has his eyes open, just as warm and bright as her own. A neat covering of near-white hair dusts the top of his head, marking him forever as his fathers' son.

As if this isn't enough of a blow to Hermione, a young girl, probably no more than five years old, steps into the frame. Her small hands clutch a book, the golden words Quidditch through the Ages catching the light. She peers hopefully up at her father, her hair, a shade darker than his, curling uncontrollably. When she lifts the book, her pale grey eyes pleading, Hermione can practically hear the gorgeous little girl begging her father to read to her. Her heart goes out to the girl, desperately wishing to reach out and pull her close, even though she knows that she is not real.

The Hermione being reflected back at her smiles sadly, and, though the real woman does not move, she lifts a trembling hand to wipe away a tear. The little girl perches beside her, hugging her arm tightly, but her movements are not hindered. Dimly, the witch wonders if this is what insanity was like, to watch her reflection fall into a depression separate from her own, because, even though the entire purpose of the Mirror is to reflect ones' deepest desires, she is far too rational for the lie to take hold. Even the woman who lives in the dream world cannot believe it exists.

Dumbledore had said that it did not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live. All through the second war, travelling around the UK with Harry, she had figured that he had known what he was talking about. He was so old and seemed so wise, and Skeeter's slanderous book said as much.

Staring at the reflection of a dream, Hermione is no longer so certain. The world is against the possibility of her and Draco ever being romantically involved, she knows this.

And yet her deepest desire is to have a happy, safe, beautiful family with him, and no one else. Judgement be damned.

Too bad she cannot convince herself that she doesn't care what anyone else thinks.