AN ~ Well this is it everyone. This is the end. Hopefully you will find this a fitting end to this little tale. A huge thank you to both Mistress Leigh, who has been my beta since day one of this story, and Lorien829, without whom this would have never developed beyond the little ficlet it was. Thanks girls :)

'Desire'

by Witherwings

Chapter Fourteen

October had quickly given way to November, the warm caress of the summer just past long since banished to memory by the icy fist of a cruel and indifferent northerly wind. Seemingly untroubled by the trifling defences afforded against it by either the thick winter cloaks worn by all the students at this time of year, the countless heavy tapestries that adorned every conceivable patch of bare stonework, or even the eight foot thick castle walls, such was the power of the arctic chill that, even several hours before curfew, the corridors of the ancient school were all but deserted.

Shoulders hunched against the biting cold, Harry strode the familiar corridors of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in silence, his mechanical stride carrying him towards the office that had once belonged to Professor McGonagall, its previous steward having vacated it in favour of the school's incumbent transfiguration teacher.

Hermione.

A familiar knot of despair twisted deep within his chest at the very thought of the woman he seemed doomed to love only from afar and he paused at an open window that overlooked the lake to compose himself. He couldn't let her see him like this.

Though at least an hour away by his reckoning, dusk was already settling over the castle grounds like a balm, the low hanging flotilla of clouds devouring the last of the sun's rays; what little natural light remained, cold and grey like the churning surface of the Great Lake far below.

As had become something of a nervous habit of late, Harry was dimly aware that his fingers were once again worrying at the smooth curve of the one item he possessed that had formerly belonged to his mother. Why he had taken to carrying it with him everywhere these past few weeks, he could not say – rationally he knew he was in no danger of needing it – yet nor could he deny that the simple act of keeping it near, of turning it end over end between thumb and fore-finger, had given him the strength to fulfil the promise he had made to Hermione a little more than month ago.

A month. It had been little more than a month – thirty-four days in fact – since Germany. A month since their ordeal beneath the surface of that frigid underground lake, a month since they had successfully defeated the draugr and found the mirror. Bellatrix Lestrange now awaited the trial for her crimes from the comfort of her Azkaban cell. It seemed almost impossible that it had been such a short flight of days since he had finally come to accept the depth of his feelings towards this new version of his best friend, since his heart had been shattered into a thousand pieces as he vowed to let her go, to help her return to her own reality. He'd promised, even though the very thought of losing her made him sick to his stomach. He'd promised, even though his life would be like a bird denied the sky without her.

A bellicose bark swirled though the air, the sudden sound pulling him from his thoughts most morose. A web of fine lines fanned out from the corner of his eyes as he squinted into the gale in an effort to identify its source.

As synonymous with Hogwarts as its four founders, Harry's gaze quickly settled on the two utterly unmistakable forms of Hagrid and his boarhound, Fang, the latter far behind, but bounding happily through the shallows as he gave chase to one of the Giant Squid's many arms.

Already half way across the waterlogged lawn, Hagrid paused, the several animal pelts hung over his shoulder swaying to and fro as he turned in place to face the lake. "Come on, yeh dozy mutt," came his gruff yet somehow jovial voice, the wind causing his words to overlap and collide with one another on the journey from the sloping lawns to Harry's ear. "Catch yer death out 'ere, yeh will. Let's get inside an' warm up."

With a last glance at the water that Harry could only describe as longing, the great black dog lumbered up the bank before trotting after its master who had already resumed his course towards the warmth and shelter on offer in their unimposing hut set on the edge of the forest

Though unsolicited, and most certainly not directed towards him, Harry noted that it was indeed sage advice: he needed to get out of the cold himself.

Patting his breast pocket to assure himself that his prize possession was still safely nestled there, Harry turned up his collar, thrust his hands deep within his trouser pockets and resumed his steady pace towards Hermione's office.

No less brilliant that her counterpart from this world, Hermione, freed from the hypnotic effects of the mirror, had made swift progress in deciphering the magical mechanisms at work in the mirror. In fact, although he often followed less than one word in ten of her explanation of the mirror's magical properties, Harry had the distinct impression that she could have completed her work weeks ago.

He shook his head to banish the nascent thought. Wistful thinking, he told himself. He believed he had known her long enough, one version of her at least, to recognise the look of eager anticipation in her eye – the one that made her face light up in a way that he so adored – when she believed she was on the cusp of a major breakthrough.

No, she was leaving him; worse than that, she was happy about it. Furthermore, if he had understood the patronus she had sent him not fifteen minutes ago correctly, it would happen today

Ooof!

It was at that moment, completely lost in thought, that Harry collided with something – someone – very solid, the impact driving all of the breath from his lungs and sending him crashing to the floor amongst a blizzard of parchment he had evidently knocked from the other person's grasp.

"Oh!" exclaimed a familiar voice.

Dazed, Harry lifted his chin towards the speaker whose wide, grey eyes regarded him in a manner that was amusement and mild annoyance in equal measures.

"Sorry, Luna," he mumbled, pushing himself into a sitting position. "I didn't see you there … probably all the wrackspurts, right?" he added with an attempt at a self-deprecating smile.

Luna blinked, her head cocked slightly to the side in a way that always made Harry feel bad, like she was trying to decide if she was being teased or not. "Don't be silly, Harry" she said after a beat, a warm smile spreading across her features that Harry took to indicate she believed the latter. "Everyone knows that wrackspurts are hibernating at this time of year."

Now a genuine smile did pull at Harry's lips. "Here," he said scrambling to his feet and retrieving his wand. "Let me help you with these," the dozen of so pieces of parchment immediately sailing into his arms. "Working them hard, professor?" he teased. The paper on the top of the pile had been graded T.

Of all those who had fought alongside him during the war, Luna Lovegood was perhaps the least obvious candidate for the position of Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. Nevertheless, after three years in the role, the eccentric former Ravenclaw had proven herself to be an exceptional, if rather unconventional choice: O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. grades at their highest levels in nearly twenty years.

Luna gave a tight smile, her eyes taking on the same hard look she had developed at some point during the war. "It's the only way they'll learn.

"Actually," she continued, her stern expression vanishing as quickly as it had appeared, "perhaps you could help me. I was just on my way to teach a remedial defence class. I'm sure your input would prove most valuable to my students."

There it was; the perfect opportunity. He could go with Luna, share his considerable experience with her class and, no doubt impatient to return to her own world, Hermione would be gone by the time he got back. Better for him. Better for everybody.

"No." Like shifting sands, the moment was fleeting. Choosing to go with Luna would only delay the inevitable. Hermione wouldn't leave without at least saying goodbye, and he knew that, deep down, he couldn't let her go without seeing her again. Just one last time.

Besides, if Hermione's theories proved correct regarding the impossibility of two versions of herself existing in one universe simultaneously, the other Hermione – the Hermione born to this world – should return the moment she left. He couldn't abandon her either.

He cleared his throat. "What I mean is," he amended, realising his had been rather rude, "sorry Luna. I'm here to help Hermione. Maybe another time?"

To his eternal surprise, Luna actually brightened at that. "Oh good," she said, her eyes wandering across him in that vaguely disinterested manner that made him feel as if she were looking through him rather than at him. "It was lovely for her to visit, but I know she has been feeling rather … displaced recently. She needs to find someplace she belongs."

Visit?

Displaced?

Belongs?

All of these words formed on his lips but, though his mouth opened to voice one, or perhaps all of them at once, Harry found that he could find no words to express his disbelief. She knows? His eyes widened. She knows!

But how could that be?Aside from Hermione, he knew that he was the only other person who knew the truth of how she had come to find herself in an world that was both familiar and yet simultaneously so alien. As certain as he was that he had not allowed her secret to slip, he was equally sure that Hermione would not have said anything either.

Finally Harry found his voice: "How did you know?"

Again, Luna smiled. Not the tight smile of a hardened war veteran from earlier, but the almost wistful smile of the innocent girl she had once been. A girl who was willing to believe in all manner of fantastical things without even so much as a shred of evidence.

"Oh Harry." She cupped his cheek with her free hand, "it's as plain as the nose on your face."

If he expected her to elaborate, he was to be sorely disappointed. As if to shake off the effects of a head rush, suddenly she blinked, dropped her hand back to her side and bade him farewell.

So surprised was he by this abrupt change, it took Harry until she had almost disappeared around a corner to call after her.

She paused, her long hair still billowing behind her as if she were still in motion. "Wish her luck for me," she added, an enigmatic smile pulling her lips into a slight curve. "Whatever she decides ... "

Leaving no time for Harry to so much as formulate a reply she was gone, her last words repeating endlessly in his mind.

Satisfied with her preparations, Hermione placed her wand on her desk and folded her arms across her chest. There was nothing left to do now but wait.

Not that she needed to wait long.

She had no sooner completed her work when a familiar rhythm – one long beat followed closely by three shorter ones – reached her ears.

Harry! She would know that knock anywhere and her insides fizzed like a bottle of pumpkin pop at the mere thought of him.

Already certain of the identity of her caller, Hermione swiped her wand from the table, the warmth of her grip still present on it's ornate handle, disabled the extensive protections she had erected around her office and stepped forward to pull the door open.

"Sorry," she said, lifting her eyes from the door handle to meet his. She had intended to apologise for making him wait, however, such was the intensity of his gaze – twin pools of obsidian surrounded by a narrow band of green – that her words seemed suddenly meaningless, unimportant; the happy bubble that filled her chest bursting as she was reminded of her reason for calling him here tonight: she was leaving.

A charged silence filled the room. More than the simple absence of sound, this was expectant, like the breath between verse and chorus. Each of them aware that they were on the cusp of something beautiful, if only one of them would sing the next line.

Where's your Gryffindor courage now, Hermione? taunted her inner voice as the moment passed and she stepped aside to allow Harry to enter the room.

"You patronus said you had found something?"

"Oh!" Hermione's exclamation was little more than an exhaled breath. She hated how flustered she sounded. "I mean yes, yes I did."

Closing the door behind her, she focused on Harry's question. If she could keep her mind occupied she wouldn't have to think about how painful it was going to be to leave him.

"You remember how I told you that the mirror was based around essentially the same magic employed by the Room of Requirement?" Harry, who had perched himself on the edge of her desk, nodded his recollection. "Well," she continued, drawing out the single word to allow her time to construct a sentence that would explain her findings in a manner that would not require a degree in advanced charms to understand, "I've discovered that the connection goes far deeper than that. Not only are both able to read and interpret their subjects' minds, both can act as an inter-dimensional gateway."

Harry's brow knit together. "You're joking?"

"I'll admit it does sound a little far fetched," she accepted. "But just think about it for a moment ... where, for example, do all of the things stored in the Room of Hidden Things go when the room transforms into another form?" Harry did not answer, his lips pursed together as he considered her question. "Well I'll tell you," continued Hermione, the cadence of her speech quickening in a way that she had never learnt to control. She sounded like an over-eager schoolgirl again. "They haven't gone anywhere, they're still there just ... unavailable."

Registering the confusion that now coloured Harry's features, Hermione tried a different tack. She moved closer to the still veiled mirror. "Think of it like a station," she began. "Just because the points are set for the train to arrive at one particular platform, doesn't mean all the other platforms suddenly cease to exist – "

Harry's face brightened. "They're just only available one at a time," he put in, catching on.

"Exactly," exclaimed Hermione happily, the joy she felt whenever she imparted knowledge briefly tempering what she knew that knowledge would lead to. "Each room continues to exist within its own dimension, totally inaccessible to us, unless we have a need for it.

"Once I figured that out, it was actually fairly simple to identify which spell allowed the room to differentiate between a person's conscious and subconscious desires. All I have to do now is cast the same spell on the mirror and ... " Hermione's voice trailed away as quickly as the child-like enthusiasm in Harry's expression.

"So you've done it then?" he wanted to know. "You've solved it?" He pushed up from his perch and moved so close that their chests were all but touching. "You're leaving."

Her tongue suddenly a balled up sock in her mouth, Hermione could only offer a weak nod. There was no delaying it any longer. "There's just one last thing I have to do before I do," she managed to add.

Though she had been unable to avoid the pain that came hand-in-hand with her decision to leave this version her best friend forever, she had been able to spare herself at least some of the same when it came to her sister. She had purposefully ensured that their interactions were as infrequent and brief as possible over the last month. Yet now, with her time in this world coming to a close, and with no means of transporting an photograph or a keepsake of her back home, she knew she could not leave without seeing her one last time.

Without a word, she turned towards the mirror, pointed her wand at the heavy tarpaulin and vanished it.

Harry's hand immediately landed on her shoulder. "Are you sure?" he asked, his concern for her well being unspoken, but nevertheless understood.

She closed her eyes and released a breath. "I am."

Slowly, haltingly, as if against his better judgement, Harry released his grip on her shoulder allowing her, for the first time in nearly two months, to step in front of the mirror.

For a long moment Hermione kept her eyes shut, her pupils flickering under her lids, as if darting over an unseen landscape. Finally, after what could have been hours, she opened them and looked upon the mirror, a sharp intake of breath hissing across her teeth as she did so.

The image had changed. No longer did she regard the piercing gaze of the sister she had never known, but instead a pair of brown eyes, full of curiosity stared back at her from the mirror's depths. Pretty, in an understated way, a mane of wild curls spilling onto shoulders clad in grey robes, Hermione's brow furrowed as she recognised her own reflection.

"The happiest man on earth would look into the mirror and see only himself, exactly as he is."

The words once spoken by Albus Dumbledore chose that moment to push themselves to the forefront of her mind. It was also at that same moment that she noticed one small difference between herself and her counterpart looking back at her: a golden band offset by a glittering diamond.

"Yes." The word was carried forward on a soft sigh; behind her, she felt Harry move closer.

"What did you say?"

Twisting on the spot, her eyes alive with wonder, Hermione threw herself into his arms. "Yes!" she shouted. "Yes, yes, yes!" and she claimed his lips with her own.

Not the halting, nervous kiss between friends who might be lovers, this was needy, desperate, the sort of kiss that could only be shared between two people who knew they had wasted too much precious time ignoring the truth that had been staring them in the face the whole time.

Momentarily stunned, Harry's eyes slid shut and he deepened the kiss, his hands snaking underneath her robes where they left tiny trails of fire across her back.

Replying in kind, Hermione's hands moved of their own volition – his face, his chest, his hands – using her grip on the latter to guide them to her buttocks, she directed a grunt of pleasure into his mouth as he pulled her closer.

Finally breaking their frenzied tryst, his face a picture of complete joy and utter bewilderment, Harry picked her up and twirled her round on the spot until she was so dizzy she didn't think she would be able to stand without support. "You're staying?"

Hermione shrieked with glee as her fairground ride came to an end. She swayed slightly as she tried to focus her swimming vision on Harry's face. She nodded. "I'm staying."

Harry's joyous expression evaporated. "But what about – "

He didn't even need to finish his question.

As if distorted by a pebble skipping across a still pond, their reflections suddenly shimmered and broke up only to be replaced by another, equally recognisable couple as the ripples dissipated and eventually faded to nothing.

Hermione stepped forwards. As certain as she had been that the mirror had chosen to shown her a future she could only have in this universe, she was equally sure, thought she could not say how, that the mirror was now permitting her one last glimpse of her own universe.

Ensconced in Ron's arms, the other Hermione briefly met her counterpart's eye, glanced up at the redhead as if she couldn't believe her luck, before directing her gaze at her alter self once more.

She inclined her chin slightly. All right? she seemed to ask.

All right, replied Hermione, a Mona-Lisa smile ghosting across her face.

For a moment, the two women, identical in almost every way, shared a knowing look, before the image wavered and then disappearing completely.

"Hermione?"

At the sound of his voice, Hermione twisted towards Harry once more, his arms automatically going around her waist as she moved into his embrace. "She's going to be just fine," and she rose up on tip-toes and pressed a lingering kiss to his lips.

Far more tender than their first frantic embrace, when they next broke apart, Harry was regarding her with no small amount of puzzlement and she lifted her brows questioningly.

Understanding what her expression signified, Harry drew a deep breath. "Not that I really care," he began, "but yes what? What did the mirror show you that made you want to stay."

Hermione's felt her cheeks warm. I can't tell him that, can I? After all, a few stolen kisses did not a relationship make. She settled on saying: "It's silly."

"It can't be," retorted Harry in all seriousness. "Nothing that brought us together could ever be silly."

"Okay ... " said Hermione. "But I want you to remember I don't expect anything from you." Harry quickly nodded his agreement. "I saw a ring," she admitted. "An engagement ring."

Harry's face paled; immediately Hermione feared she had been too honest. "But remember, I don't expect anything from – "

Harry raised a hand and she stopped talking as if she had been hit by a well aimed tongue-tying curse, his other hand rummaging in one of his robe's inside pockets.

"This ring?" he asked, his fist opening to reveal a dazzling diamond ring resting on his palm.

Hermione's heart leapt into her throat. It was identical to the one in the mirror. "H-how is that possible?"

For a long moment, Harry did not answer. Instead he picked up the delicate band and made a show of inspecting the single jewel which Hermione could tell, even from there, was nearly flawless. "It was my mother's," he said at length. "Sirius gave it to me. Told me that I should give it to the girl I wanted to spend the rest of my life with ... " Harry's words trailed away, his eyes still trained on the prisms of light, yet equally somewhere else entirely.

After what seemed like far longer than the handful of seconds she knew it to be objectively, Hermione saw his expression clear, his tongue darting forward the whet his dry lips.

"Hermione." His voice was rough and clogged with emotion, the tears shining in his eyes mirrored in her own the moment he dropped to one knee. "I've feel like I've been waiting my entire life for you and now that you're here I don't want to waste another second." He lifted the ring towards her. "Will you marry me?"

Too overcome by emotion to answer aloud, Hermione could only nod as Harry slid the ring smoothly onto her slender finger. It fit perfectly.

Bounding to his feet, Harry clasped her around the waist, spun her round once and kissed her deeply, their moment only interrupted by an enormous bang as the door flew open and slammed against the stone wall that framed it.

"Ah! Here you two – "

Harry and Hermione, still joined at the lips, twisted towards the familiar voice, Ron's sudden interruption fading to nothing as he regarded first his best friends and then his fiancée in slack jawed amazement.

Rosaline squealed. "It's about time!" and then: "How long?" as her eyes were drawn inexorably to the ring on her sister's finger.

Certain she would burst into flame if she blushed any harder, Hermione, a slight frown knotting her brow as she tried to remember if she had actually locked the door, settled herself back onto her heels and met her sister's delighted gaze.

"About two minutes," she said, stealing a quick glance at her best friend – her fiancé – her earlier theory proving unfounded as she felt her cheeks burn even hotter at the thought.

As quickly as if she had apparated there, Rosaline was suddenly by her side and she pulled her into a one armed hug as the other manhandled her left hand to inspect the ring. "Oh, it's gorgeous, Mimi," she said, her voice so high as to be only audible to dogs. "I'm so happy for you ... for both of you," she concluded before adding in a conspirational whisper: " I want to know everything!"

"Yeah." Ron, who had sauntered over to Harry's side, clapped him firmly on the back.

Hermione smiled as she found she did not feel a twinge of loss that Ron – this one at least – did not seem in the least bit jealous of her newfound status of one half of a couple.

"This calls for a celebration!" declared Rosaline, guiding the group towards the still opened door by virtue of her firm grip of Hermione's hand through the loop of her own arm. "The Three Broomsticks? My treat. Oh," she added as something of an afterthought, "we should call everyone! Get the whole gang together ... "

"Yeah, we should" put in Ron before lowering his voice for Harry's ears only: "Fred and George owe me five galleons each. They bet me that you two would be over thirty before you finally cottoned on."

Harry grinned. "As long as I see a cut of that."

Hermione was beyond the threshold when she pulled her sister to a stop. "The lights!" she exclaimed. "I've got to turn off the lights."

Ron brandished his wand. "I've got – " He paused. "Hey ... Isn't that the Mirror of Erised?" he asked. Perhaps he had been too stunned to notice it before.

Hermione, Rosaline still at her side, pushed back into her office and regarded the mirror, the four of them reflected just as they were in it's pristine surface.

"No," she answered, her eyes now drawn to the script carved around the mirror's frame, it's meaning very different from those of her memories of the ancient device – Sru oysi erised ou yta htlla. "It's just an old mirror," she concluded, dousing the lights and pulling the door closed behind them.

The mirror, she knew, had served it purpose.

FIN

AN ~ Feel free to comment on your way out.