It was a cold day in early January when Hazel ventured down to the Mirror of Erised. Like always, the ghostly reflection of Sev was waiting for her. "Hi," she smiled, sitting down across from the mirror. "Happy birthday. I... I miss you, Sev. I miss how birthdays used to be, even though we never made a big deal about them. I'd have brought you a cake or a slice of blancmange or something but I thought it would be kind of silly to bother. Sir Nicholas told me ghosts can kind of taste things, but I don't think that would really work." She sat back talking to the mirror for hours, wishing that she could've gone back to this time last year. It was when she went to say goodbye that she realized how unhealthy it was to sit in front of that mirror every day.

Out of habit, she leaned in to kiss him, colliding with the cold glass. The familiar ache in her chest returned as she realized, like she did every night, that he was gone. He wasn't going to say goodnight to her. He wasn't going to ever kiss her back. He was gone. "I'm sorry, I... I shouldn't be here all the time," she sighed. "I've got to stop this. I promise i'll visit you, but it cant be every day. I can't..."

Miles away on the Scottish coast, a dark figure sat on the rocks, watching the stars twinkling above the ocean. It had been a decent birthday, a quiet one. No one had been around to say a word to him. He was used to birthdays like that, at least he had been until Hazel came back. The professors would wish him a happy birthday if they were back from the winter holiday, of course. Dumbledore and McGonagall always made sure to stop by the dungeons. He was used to conjuring a treat for himself, sitting alone and watching the snow, enjoying the silence. But then Hazel came back to the school, and she insisted they do something special, even if it was just grabbing a butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks, spending the day walking Hogsmeade, or taking an evening off and spending time together. For five years now, birthdays had meant something more special.

As he stared into the night sky, he wished that this birthday would've been like last year's. It had been a quiet one, like always, but he wasn't alone. Even in a school that had hated him, he wasn't alone. And now he was. Not a soul knew he was alive, and he had to keep it that way until the Death Eaters had all been captured and they'd stopped hunting down those who had disappeared after the fall of the Dark Lord. He couldn't go back to Hogwarts until he knew it was going to be safe. "I miss you," he said, the vastness of the ocean and the night sky offering little in response. "I miss you. I miss last year..."

"Good morning," Hazel smiled, rolling over in bed to kiss him good morning. "Happy 38."

"Oh don't say that, that means I'll be forty in two years," he laughed, pulling her into a kiss. "When did that happen?"

"Hmm, probably sometime in between becoming the most handsome man in Britain and saving Potter's life for the tenth time," she answered as she sat up and wrapped part of the blanket around herself. "What do you want to do today? I refuse to let you work all day, even if you are the headmaster."

"Why don't we go into Muggle London?" Hazel raised an eyebrow, but he explained that, "It'll get us out of here. We can pretend we're not... us. In the middle of a wizarding war. Even if it is just for a little while. I have a couple of things to get done this morning, but why don't we go after lunch?"

Muggle London was just as busy as Hazel remembered it. The two of them dressed in Muggle clothes didn't turn any heads in the middle of London. While they would have been whispered about in Hogsmeade, the city provided the comforting anonymity only the Muggle world could offer. While Sev hadn't been in the city very much, Hazel had grown up visiting London, so she managed to navigate them easily enough. "Where are we going?" he asked as they passed through a narrow street and into an open concourse full of fountains.

"You'll see. Actually, hold on, give me your hand. We can skip the line if we apparate." She reached out for him, and soon enough they were standing in the middle of a museum. A massive group of tourists had just entered, no one noticing the couple that blended into the room.

The two of them meandered through the museum for a few hours, Hazel pointing out the art that she'd first visited well before she went to Hogwarts. For his part, Sev enjoyed being able to walk around with her, unbothered by everyone else. No one knew who they were. No one was threatening to hex him in the halls. No one was pointing and whispering as they walked. They were just a couple of visitors in the thousands that moved through the museum every day. It was just the two of them, holding hands and strolling through galleries of Renaissance art, Impressionists, and Surrealists. They were able to lose themselves in the Muggle world for a few hours.

"You can tell who knew about magic," Sev whispered as they passed a portrait of a woman in a silver cloak. "That's an invisibility cloak. The Ministry's had a hold on that pattern for centuries."

"Do you want to see something really magical?" Hazel asked, guiding him into another gallery. "Mum showed it to me when I was little. It's my favorite painting here." They came to a stop in the room of French Post-Impressionists, waiting for the crowd to clear around a painting of a field, made with swirling whites and blues and yellows. A couple of trees grew up one side, nearly swaying in the breeze of an eternal French summer.

Sev was silent for a moment, studying it carefully. "It's beautiful. It looks like it's moving. It's not, not like the wizarding paintings can, but I don't think most Muggles can paint like that."

"That's what makes it so special. The man who painted it, Van Gogh, he wasn't a very happy man. A lot of people didn't like him at all. Most people didn't understand him," she explained. "But he used that to create something beautiful. And now a lot of people think he's the greatest painter who ever lived."

He looked over to her, noting the group of people starting to fill in the rest of the space around them. "Can we... stay here for a moment?"

"Of course." So there they stayed, holding hands in front of the painting while tourists cycled through, snapped a few photos, and moved on. Hazel rested her head on his shoulder, smiling to herself as they studied the field that had forever been frozen in time.

Staring into the pattern of swirling clouds, he sighed, happy to be there with her. He did like the art. It was probably his favorite painting in the museum, because it was hers. He also thought she was hinting at something, telling him that even someone who was so disliked by everyone ended up being loved by so many. "When all of this is over, can we go there?"

"France? We will. We'll take a real holiday. I think this was in Arles..." Neither of them knew how long they stood there, completely absorbed in being there with each other. "Do you want to see another one? They've got more of his stuff."

"Yeah, we should probably get out of everyone's way." He turned to kiss her, the two of them weaving their way through another tour group that was coming by.

Well after the sun had set and they'd found dinner in a restaurant where their waiter kept asking if Sev was an actor he couldn't quite remember the name of (but he'd been in that one movie, you know, with the building and the explosions and that American fellow?)(to which Hazel had, much to her amusement, simply smiled and told the waiter to keep it quiet), they found themselves standing on a bridge, looking over the twinkling lights of the city. Groups of tourists were still walking around, but most of the normal Londoners had gone home for the night. It was cold, threatening to snow, and after a long day at work most people would have greatly preferred being inside. But the two of them didn't mind. The Scottish highlands were much colder this time of year, after all. "Thank you for this," Sev said, staring out over the dark water. "I've hardly thought about the school or the war or any of that all day."

"You're welcome," she smiled, turning to look at him. "You deserve a break. Happy birthday, Sev."

As they lay in bed that night, fully defrosted from the London cold, Sev couldn't help but smile. Maybe, just maybe, if he could still find a reason to smile in the middle of a wizarding war, maybe there was hope of coming out of this. Maybe they could have a quiet little life where they went to look at art on the weekends. Maybe the most he'd ever be recognized in public would be the occasional waiter who thought he looked like that actor Hazel had told him about ages ago. Maybe they could blend in and be normal for once. "Are you still awake?"

"Yeah."

He reached out, pulling her into a kiss. "I love you, Hazel."

"I love you too, Sev. Happy birthday."

A year later they would both be falling asleep alone. Or rather they would be lying awake for a while. Hazel lay in bed, trying to sleep for the longest time. She eventually got up, staring out over the castle grounds. The moonlight shone over the lake, reflecting on the crop of gravestones. She could see the small stone under their tree, by the edge of the forest. With a sigh, she grabbed her wand, wrapping a dressing gown around herself before she took off for Astronomy Tower. None of the students would be there that night. She had the whole place to herself, save for a couple of owls that would fly through on occasion. Watching the stars twinkle over the castle, she thought back to the days when she and Sev would meet up there to work, to avoid the Marauders, or to just spend time together. "Happy birthday, Sev," she breathed, feeling the first of many tears trickle down her cheeks.

Sev couldn't sleep either. He'd fixed up the old house, designing a comfortable bedroom, but that night he lay awake staring at the ceiling. Like always. It took him ages to fall asleep every night. It had ever since he'd first woken up in the house in Sussex after sleeping for a few days straight. Since that day, every bed had felt too empty. He'd roll over, expecting Hazel to be next to him, only to find the other half of the bed still made.

He got up and paced the house for what felt like the fifth time in an especially restless night. Coming to a stop in front of the fireplace, he picked up one of the photos on the mantle. He and Hazel were sitting under a tree, laughing about something he didn't remember. They were so young back then. It had to have been late in their sixth year, maybe early in their seventh. As he stood there, he wondered if she ever smiled anymore.

Maybe next year things would be different. Maybe next year they would be back together. But as he set the photo down, all he could do was hope. It helped. Even so, it took him ages to fall asleep. Like always.