Prompt : Hi, I kind of came up with this idea where Effie looks into the mirror of erised?:) thanks if you write it up!

The anon wanted it in HG world instead of HP AU, so… here it is. (In case you don't know, the mirror of erased appears in Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secret and shows whoever looks into it their deepest desire. It is said that a person completely happy would see nothing but her usual reflection)

Our Hearts' Desire

Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi.

Effie studied the inscription carved on the golden frame of the strange mirror that had been washed on Four's shore one day and had, since then, become a prized sought-after distraction. Nobody knew how it worked, no one in Three or in the Capitol could explain it. You looked into it and it showed you…

I show not your face but your heart's desire.

The Mirror of Erised as some people had begun to call it was paraded around from official events to official parties for the amusement of the Capitol population. Effie had seen it before but she had never dared come so close. First, it was always crowded because looking into it was the latest fashion and second, she was a bit afraid of what the mirror would reveal. She had seen some people laugh it off, others looking wistful and a very few handful saying they had seen nothing more than what they saw in their bathroom mirror every morning. Those were the happy ones, she supposed.

She couldn't tell what drove her to approach the mirror today of all days. Perhaps it was because the party had died down enough that there were only around twenty people left, all of them being mostly drunk victors and their escorts who were valiantly trying to get them back to their respective floor. Haymitch was somewhere in the room, still drinking with Chaff and whoever had the stomach for their heavy consumption of liquor.

She stepped in front of the mirror a bit wary of what she would find out. At first nothing happened and she breathed out in relief, already shaking her head at her own folly. Of course she would be among the people who saw nothing but their reflection, wasn't she perfectly happy? She gave herself a very satisfied smile in the mirror and adjusted her lavender wig because it was leaning on the left a bit, she ignored the small pang in her heart because it was ridiculous.

She saw Haymitch approaching behind her and she turned around to ask him if he was ready to go back to the penthouse. Except her surroundings were empty of people and she could still see Haymitch nodding somberly at something Chaff was saying where they were seated at a table by the wall. She faced the mirror again, her heart racing in her chest.

Haymitch was now standing right behind her. He looked better than he did nowadays. He was sober for one thing, his grey eyes were sparkling with mischief and his lips were sporting a proud smirk. He put his arms around her waist and propped his chin on her shoulder. Her hands flew to her stomach but found nothing there but her soft satin dress. The man in the mirror looked at her the way Haymitch never did. She had seen almost every emotion flash on Haymitch's face when he stared at her in the years they had worked together : hatred, disgust, repulsion, anger, curiosity, realization, sympathy and, more recently, desire. But desire wasn't all there was in his eyes when he pinned her against a wall or his mattress… Sometimes, there was self-loathing too.

Her own reflection blurred for a second and her heart was beating so loud in her own ears she was sure the whole room would be able to hear it… When she looked around however, she realized no one was looking at her. Wasn't that her worst nightmare?

Perhaps it wasn't.

The Effie Trinket she saw in her reflection was now a different person and yet not. She was herself, freed from her Capitol attire, freed from people's expectation and heavy stares, freed from her position as a living sex-symbol. Freed from her job as an escort. Her real blond hair fell on her shoulders in perfect curls, her pink dress was stylish but much simpler than what she had to wear nowadays… Haymitch kissed her cheek, her neck, her shoulder and she found herself smiling at the easiness of it all. She knew, without a doubt, that those people in the mirror were living a peaceful life. And a happy one.

She sensed what would happen a second before it did and she almost tore her eyes away from the reflection. Unfortunately, she wasn't quick enough. The twelve years old girl was all smile and laugh, she had her father's eyes and her mother's mouth. The child was carefree and safe like no child with a parent coming from a District could ever be. The child in the mirror wasn't afraid of being reaped and thrust in an arena full of people who would hunt her down and kill her.

It was a perfect life.

It was a perfect dream.

It was a perfect lie.

A second Haymitch appeared in the mirror. This one was shuffling his feet and staggering a little and his hand fell on her shoulder as soon as he was close enough. The touch was real and Effie quickly blinked to make the tears that gathered in her eyes disappear.

"You're done admiring yourself, Princess?" he mocked. "Still look like a stupid clown, I promise you."

He reeked of liquor, it was awful. She looked back at the happy family in the mirror and then stepped aside, letting her heart's desire fade away. Not all desires were made to be fulfilled.

"I don't want to fight tonight, Haymitch." she snapped.

His free hands grabbed her arm to steady himself. Wonderful, she would have to guide him back to the elevators and then to his bed. A perfect end to a perfect evening, she thought with derision.

"No? Do you want to fuck, then?" His grey eyes were veiled from all the alcohol but the sneer was mean. It wasn't a good night. She didn't know what he and Chaff had been talking about but it obviously had put him in one of his dark mood.

"As tempting as that offer is, no thank you." she retorted, hoping he would understand the sarcasm even in his inebriated state.

"Why not?" He stepped closer, his breath rolled on her skin leaving her with a severe case of goosebumps. Damn him. Damn him and everything else.

"What do you see in the mirror, Haymitch?" she asked instead. She didn't know why she did it. Perhaps she was a masochist because whatever he would see would probably have nothing to do with her. But there was a small chance it did, right? A very tiny chance?

He never took his eyes off her. "I don't like mirrors."

"I know." she sighed, well aware of his aversion for reflecting surfaces. He didn't like to meet his own eyes. "But this one is special. Humor me."

"Do I get to fuck you if I look?" he leaned closer and she leaned back. Her eyes darted around, afraid someone would see and put two and two together. No one was paying them any mind, though.

"Yes." she lied. He was in no state to have sex. He would pass out as soon as she dumped him on his bed if she was lucky. If she was unlucky, he would lose consciousness in the elevator or in one of the corridor.

He shrugged and faced the mirror. After a few seconds, his eyes widened and he let go of her to take a few steps towards the glass. She stayed close, wary of his tottering. What if he broke the mirror? They would be in so much trouble… He looked behind him and back to the mirror a few times and then looked at her. He didn't look as drunk. "What's that thing?"

She explained it quickly and in simple terms. She wasn't sure his alcohol soaked brain would be able to understand the longer version at that precise point in time. He didn't even listen to the end of her speech, he brushed the glass a bit on his left at his shoulder's level with the tip of his fingers. His face softened and, for a wild second, he looked young again, just like the Quarter Quell tribute she used to cheer on.

"What do you see?" She needed to know. She really needed to know what could make him look so…

"The past." he said, his voice was pure longing. He closed his eyes and stepped away, grabbing her arms again when he stumbled on his own feet. "I don't want to look anymore." He sounded like a small child. He sometimes did when the alcohol took his toll and left him sick. She hated those nights. She hated the way he would curl on his bathroom floor and beg her to make it stop. He didn't mean the spasms that made him retch the contents of his stomach. He meant everything. It was a wish she would never be able to grant.

"Let me get you home." She steered him out of the room and to the elevator. Focusing on the task at hands was easy and probably for the best otherwise she would probably start to cry. His heart's desire was his past. His family probably but also his late girlfriend. A young woman who, she supposed, had been her complete opposite. There was no place for Effie in his life. Not like that. She was just the woman he fucked when he got bored or when the fancy took him, not… Not anything more.

It was a mess. The whole thing was a mess. Their whole lives were a mess.

"I don't have one." he mumbled as they were waiting for the elevator to reach the twelfth floor.

"My apologies?" She looked at him inquisitively and he shrugged.

"Home. I don't have one." His eyes were sad and empty and she felt guilty for making him look, for reminding him.

"You have one with me." she offered just as the elevator chimed. "For what it is worth."

He didn't answer but he patted her shoulder gently. It was either grateful or patronizing, it was often hard to tell with a drunk Haymitch. Getting him to his bedroom proved every bit as hard as she had expected, there never was an Avox when you needed one. She made him sit on the bed and undressed him quickly. He let her do as she pleased without even a single licentious comment, not even a little joke. She found sweatpants in his drawers and helped him put them on. No man in the Capitol would ever go to bed in something so pedestrian, they would favor silk pajamas or something more fashionable but she had never seen Haymitch touch those kind of night clothes. When he showed to breakfast – still undressed because Haymitch was never ashamed of anything – he would always wear sweatpants and a woolen dressing gown. He favored comfort over fashion.

It took ten minutes to get him under the covers. She was about to go fetch a bucket in the bathroom in case he felt sick during the night when he caught her wrist and tugged a bit.

"Sleep here?" he slurred.

She stood frozen in place, unable to understand where that request had come from. They never slept together, not even when they had sex. It was an unspoken rule.

"I don't think…" she started.

"Please." he insisted. "Stay a bit. Until I fall asleep." He looked so lost and miserable she sat down on the bed. He wasn't satisfied with that however, he pulled on her arm and she had no choice but kick off her shoes and lie down next to him, over the covers. He gathered her close, sneaking an arm around her waist, she turned on her side so they were spooning. He curled around her and as hard as she tried to pretend it didn't affect her, she didn't succeed in fooling herself.

Her wig would need to be styled again after that but… It was worth it.

"What did you see?" he asked after a while. His words were a bit rushed and would have probably sounded unclear to the untrained ear.

"Twelve winning, of course." The lie came easily. "I became very famous and everyone loved me. I wore a dress from the newest Arganzte collection, it was all perfect." It was something the old Effie would have loved.

"Cut the crap, sweetheart." he grumbled sleepily, squeezing her waist once to let her know he wasn't buying it.

She frowned and shifted slightly so she could see his face. "How you can consume so much alcohol and still be that sharp is beyond me." she confessed.

"I'm very clever." His eyes were closed. She brushed the hair out of his face with a tenderness she never would dare show if he hadn't been that far gone. He wouldn't appreciate it. She was nothing to him.

"You have a beautiful mind." she hummed in agreement. "A shame you don't use it more often."

His hand ran up and down her upper body slowly. It was soothing but she was sure he didn't know what he was doing. "What did you see?" he asked again. He was already half asleep.

"Something I can never have." she whispered sadly.

"Effie Trinket gets everything she wants." he muttered, burrowing his face in his pillow. "You told me enough times."

"Not this." She retraced his face with the tips of her fingers. "It's the most beautiful thing, you know? Happy and peaceful. Just perfect. Like a dream. You would have liked it, I think. But it's all it will ever be… A beautiful dream. We will never be free and you will never love me back." Her voice broke. His eyes fluttered open but closed again just as quick. His breathing slowed and got deeper and she slipped out of his arms quietly. She pressed a soft kiss to his lips. "Goodnight, Haymitch."

He mumbled something in his sleep and stretched his arm after she had left the bed as if he wanted to held her back. Stupid, of course. He would never do such a thing. He carried his past in his heart not thoughts of her. As for her own heart… It was heavy with unrequited love… She wondered if that was how hearts broke… If love just made the heart swollen so much it burst and shattered in a thousand pieces. That was how she felt when she sneaked back to the empty room where the mirror of Erised was : like her heart would shatter. The sight of a loving Haymitch and a girl that looked like them didn't do much to heal that wound, it only made it ache stronger.