i loved you to the point of invention Chapter 1: the man beyond the mirror, a harry potter fanfic

Her knees scraped against the rubble-covered ground as she dodged another curse. With blood pounding on her ears and lungs burning from the effort, Hermione swore under her breath as her wand danced forwards, moving and jabbing and slashing across the air as different color spells left its tip; her opponent lasted only mere minutes, succumbing to the particularly heavy explosion hex that she sent to his feet.

She turned around, standing and with her eyes moving rapidly from bodies on the ground to the still alive students and professors fighting, but her heart jumped and stuttered as her gaze tuned in to the two forms battling in the distance, right in the middle of the courtyard.

Her legs moved on their own accord, desperate to go over there and assist Harry, to protect him from the Death Eaters that would surely strike him in the back like cowards, and to be there for when the battle was finally over. She had to dodge seven curses and duel another one of Voldemort's soldiers before her trembling limbs made it possible for her to stand meters away from the heated fight.

Harry was, tragically, a natural in the hostile environment in which he was fighting for his life, his body moving quicker and more ruthless than she had ever since him; it was a thing of beauty and despair to witness the violent sparks and the thundering sound of their spells colliding with each other, because it would be a wondrous display of raw magic if not for the fact that her heart was close to giving out every time her best friend attained a new injury.

She was close, so close; her legs, so tired, trembling under her weight and stinging from the several cuts and bruises she had obtained in battle, gave out just before either wizard could become aware of her presence. The need to help him, to make sure Harry got out of this battle alive, was overwhelming—

But her fears slowly receded as he watched the black haired man continue to duel his enemy, not giving him an inch of ground as sweat and blood mixed on his forehead, and his wand became the deadliest it had ever been as it moved faster and faster, spells flying and his body bending to avoid enemy curses.

Hermione leaned against a large piece of rubble and sighed, willing her body to move as she listened to the sound of war beyond her; Voldemort was the only thing standing between them and victory, since half his forces had run away the moment Harry had shown he was capable of defeating death a second time, and the professors had doubled down on the remaining Death Eaters with the students' help. As long as the leader fell, the others would follow or be crushingly defeated.

The end was so close.

She needed to help.

Her legs trembled again, now willing to carry her weight once more as she braced against the piece of stone that had become her temporary shelter; her eyes stared forward, looking for the two wizards locked in battle before she realized that their battle had moved them, and her eyes settled on Harry's fierce, shining emerald gaze as she finished standing up.

There was a shimmering dome around them, both wands connected to each other in an erratic, golden glow as both wizards did their best to stand their ground; she had heard about this, a consequence of the unique, deadly and fated relationship between her best friend and the dreadful dark wizard that had tried to kill him numerous times. As she stepped forward slowly, Harry's attention slipped just a second from his opponent, taking advantage of the fact that their confrontation had reached a standstill, to shake his head at her.

Hermione hesitated, knowing the concerned glint on his eyes all too well as she understood his request: Please, don't intervene. It was noble, and annoying, the need he felt to save people at his own cost, but her legs stopped short at the way the black haired man's wand stuttered in power, his enemy's spell clashing dangerously close to him as his attention slipped slightly.

She relented, reluctantly, and leaned back to hide slightly behind the rubble as her vision blurred, and she was suddenly reminded of the large gash on the left side of her torso; her fingers moved to it, pressing down and coating her hand in warm blood as her wand moved, murmured incantation. Her skin glowed for a second, knitting back together hastily as her attention was returned to the duel before her.

In between the shouts of surrender and victory coming from the castle, and after what seemed like a lifetime, the dome around them broke as Voldemort stumbled backwards, face set in a painful expression, connection lost; Harry's spell dominated his, the green curse rebounding at incredible speed.

Voldemort was turned away from her, but Hermione saw it; she saw his fear of morality shining clearly through the way his shoulders tensed and his back arched backwards, as if wishing to be out of the path of the curse that was a mere second away from hitting him. She heard his shout, of rage and despair, and witnessed the way his wand moved, tip shining with a new spell just as his own curse reached him. His body slumped to the ground, unmoving, a death so excruciatingly normal for a wizard that had done unspeakable things to break the laws of life.

Hermione felt relief flowing through her body, smiling as her gaze immediately searched for her best friend; he was standing there, panting and bloodied and looking like he would fall over right that moment, but there was a disbelieving smile on his face as he returned her gaze. Her feet moved, legs carrying her through a small fraction of ground before a glint of purple reflected on Harry's glasses—

And suddenly, his head bent backwards unnaturally, a sickening cracking noise echoing through the now still battleground, and Hermione's smile froze on her face as she witness the form of her best friend fall back into the ground violently. She stood there, staring at the still body of the black haired wizard before nervous energy coursed through her veins; her feet carried her painfully, running quickly towards him as she gripped her wand, healing spells ready on the tip of her tongue.

The bruises and cuts on her knees worsened as she slid to a stop next to his body, hands grabbing at his jacket in anguish when he failed to acknowledge her arrival; his eyes were opened, dimmed and unfocused, and his head lolled to the sides weightless as she moved him carefully. Her hands caressed his forehead, wincing at his broken glasses and the cuts they had left on his skin, and the blood that was pouring from his crooked nose. Hands traveling to his neck, fingers digging on the side of his it, right under his jaw, hopeful that she'd feel the thrumming of his heart in the tip of her fingers.

It was there—slow and erratic, and failing with each second that passes, but it gave her a sliver of hope as her wand moved to point at his neck. Several spells flashed through her mind, all of them learnt inside the tent that had become their home for several months, preparing herself for the worst—but she didn't know of one that would heal his neck. Not precisely. Not without risking a more painful death for him. Not one that was fast enough to save him.

She froze. Even with her mind screaming at her to do something, her hands froze as silent tears dripped down her cheeks, perhaps acknowledging the inevitable as she spied his eyes; she leaned forward to look at him directly, and his gaze seemed to focus on her for a second before it stopped, boring into her eyes and devoid of any life.

Hermione whined low on her throat, her blood turning cold as the reality of everything crashed on her slowly; a miserable sound ripped from her throat, as if her mind hadn't decided between a sob, a scream and his name, procuring an odd mix of the three as she draped herself on his chest, ear pressed to where his heart was.

No heartbeat.

There was something to be said about the cry that echoed through the grounds as her mind finally caught up to the fact that Harry's body was growing colder in her arms; she shook him, begged and sobbed, and even tried to use rennervate on him, but it was all futile and torturous as his expression stayed the same: broken, bloodied, dead.

By the time she was pulled off from his body, night had fallen and Harry's skin had grown paler than ever before, and her sobs carried through the castle as she witnessed Hagrid weeping as he took it upon himself to care for the lifeless form of the black haired man, and prepare it for a proper burial.

00o0o0o0o0o

"I assume you know about the Room of Requirement?"

Hermione nodded quickly at her boss' question, falling into step next to him as they reentered the antechamber of the Department of Mysteries. "I'd say I know it too well."

"Good," Croaker answered gruffly, becoming quiet until they were standing right before an old, wooden door with scratch and burnt marks all over it. "Then I can trust you to do this job properly."

The wizard grabbed the knob, pushing the door open carelessly and taking a step back as the bushy haired witch moved forward to look at the interior of the room. It was shrouded in darkness, the only light coming from the blue torches that surrounded the antechamber's walls. The dim light was capable of illuminating the sheer amount of objects inside the room, all piled up in a way that there was only a small path from the entrance to the middle.

"Has this room always been here?" Hermione asked, raising her eyebrows as her eyes stayed glued to the new space that had been revealed to her.

"Yes, but it's never been this cluttered before," Croaker answered. "You have Minerva to thank for that, she sent over everything that was found inside the Room of Requirement. I trust you're familiar with it?"

"Too familiar, I'd say," She answered, stepping inside. "I was there when it became consumed with fiendfyre. I figured the magic around it had failed after that, since I couldn't make the door appear for me."

Her boss stepped up next to her, wand jabbing forward the four, medium sized torches that were bolted on each upper corner of the room. The ember light of the fires allowed her to stare at the familiar shapes of the objects that had inhabited the room years ago, back when she and Harry—

"I'm surprised all of this survived the fire," She stated quickly, shaking her head softly as she turned towards the older wizard. "And Professor McGonagall just gave it over to the Department?"

"Not all of it survived," Croaker answered, shrugging. "Most small objects perished and were turned to ash, but the big ones made it through, along with everything they had inside of them. And Minerva doesn't want it in the castle, since some of them are probably bordering on dark, dangerous things."

The bushy haired witch nodded slowly, eyes racking over the pile of artifacts. "I assume you want me to see if I can fix them?"

"Yes, but only if it isn't too complicated," The wizard stated. "I don't want you to waste more time than you have to, but I've heard there were some very interesting things to be found inside the Room. Salvage anything you think might be useful for the Department, and vanish the rest."

Hermione nodded, throwing her boss a small smile as he excused himself; her wand gripped inside of the hand, she stepped forward through the small path between the objects as she bit her lips, wondering the best course of action for the start of her job. Her eyes settled on the stack of ancient-looking books on the left corner of the room, curiosity shining through her veins as she directed her magic to levitate the tomes towards her.

She didn't know how much time had passed since she took the first step to look through everything that had been delivered from Hogwarts, but she worked tirelessly for what felt like hours until the front part of the room was completely cleared. Next to her, on the right side, a big, black sack sat filled to the brim with unsalvageable objects, or artifacts too dark to see the light of day again. On her other side, a dark blue sack was holding the few objects that she had deemed necessary to revise at a later date.

She took another three steps forward, eyes narrowing in the low light of the room just as her feel collided with something solid; she squinted, finally realizing that she had stumbled upon an object taller and wider than her, covered by a thick black fabric. Her feet had clashed against the clawed feet of it, and her wand moved quickly to levitate the cloth away.

Her reflection was barely visible in the low light, shining spots of fire dancing on the surface of what seemed to be a mirror as she leaned even closer. She frowned, wondering why such a mundane artifact was in between ancient, forbidden magical objects such as the ones she had already sorted through—

The mirror fogged up with each breath she took as an uncomfortable weight settled on her throat, and her frown deepened at the way her mind seemed to tell her to turn around and leave, or to cover up the object again, but her curiosity was too powerful for her to ignore.

With a movement, the tip of her wand shined brightly as she brought it forward; the light reflected off of the mirror, illuminating the object fully as she took a step back to admire it and search for an answer as to why it had found itself inside of the Room of Requirement—

There was somebody behind her.

Hermione gasped shortly, turning around on her heel with a hex on the tip of her tongue, wand moving to protect herself before realizing that there was no soul inside the room apart from her. The space behind her was bare of anything except the sacks full of artifacts to vanish or take back with her. With her heart beating rapidly, and a dreadful feeling on her throat, she turned back to the mirror slowly, eyes firmly avoiding the reflective surface of it to concentrate on the frames of it.

She swallowed, immediately understanding why it had been inside the Room of Requirement as her eyes traveled through the engraving at the top of the wooden frame.

Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi

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

Hermione turned her head to the side, blood pounding on her ears and breathing growing shallow as her eyes racked over the floor, looking for the black fabric that had concealed the mirror and refusing to let her gaze wander to the mirror's surface; she leaned down desperately, her free hand gripping the cloth and tugging it up, intent on covering the object again—

"Hermione."

Her heartbeat seemed to stop for several seconds as the fabric slipped from her fingers. Her head turned slowly, coming to face the mirror after the slowest, most excruciatingly moments she had lived through for years. Her lumos spell still shone brightly, giving the mirror an eerie, blue reflection as she took another step forward to stare at the image before her.

Her body appeared to have a mind of its own: her hands trembled, the light spell stuttering as she lowered her hand as her free one traveled to her mouth, stifling the sob that was breaking out of her throat. She felt her knees become unsteady as her heart started to beat erratically as she gazed at the man inside the mirror.

Her eyes stayed rooted to his emerald eyes, shining through his glasses with the light of her spell and wide as they regarded her as if he couldn't believe she was standing before him. She couldn't look away—not when he leaned forward completely and only stopped when the mirror itself trembled softly, its surface shimmering for a moment.

"Hermione," He whispered, and his voice sounded muffled and so quiet that she had to step even further into the space of the mirror, eventually leaning forward until her nose was softly caressing the reflective surface.

She hadn't taken her eyes off of his, and neither had he, but her peripheral vision was capable of noticing the messy, black hair that framed his head and the shadow of stubble along his chin. She could hear his breathing, shallow and quiet from behind the glass of the mirror, and her eyes were witness to the way his gaze tightened and tears drifted down slowly.

"Hermione," He murmured, still disbelieving as he searched her face for—she couldn't know for sure, but her eyes roamed over his form in the same way, memorizing his features and the way his body moved, wishing that she could break and cross the mirror and hold him tightly to her.

"Harry," The word slipped out of her mouth before she could think, reverent and shocked, and the wizard's eyes widened as he nodded, pressing himself as hard as he could to the glass, fog covering the lower part of his face as his breathing picked up.

"Are you…" He couldn't seem to finish the question, his words getting caught up on his throat as the bushy haired witch swallowed nervously, fingers itching to claw her way into the mirror—

"Get Granger to help you, she's the best one at runes in here!"

Croaker's voice, loud and echoing, broke whatever exchange she had going on with the mirror; her mind sharpened and made her confused, joyful feeling subside as she turned to the entrance of the room. Footsteps echoed through the antechamber as her name was called once by—was that Bode?

She returned her attention to the mirror, frantically scrambling to grab at the dark fabric as the Harry inside of the artifact startled desperately.

"Wait," He blurted out, eyes wide and hands gripping something outside of the mirror—most like the frames, since his hands were now poised on either side of the object. "Please, Hermione, don't leave me."

She hesitated, hand tightening painfully around the cloth as the echoes of her name got louder and louder, and there was an urge to ignore everything and speak to the man beyond the mirror, her head swirling with questions and all of the things that had gone unsaid between her and Harry—

But now was not the time, not when her head felt as if it would crash any second from the mere shock of seeing him, or when her heart was close to giving out when she met his gaze, so desperate and forlorn, shining with anguish as he spied the fabric on her hand. Behind her, the footsteps of her coworker got louder and louder—

"I'll be back," She rushed out, leaning her forehead against the mirror, looking into his eyes and trying to convey the seriousness of her promise to him. "I'll be back."

She draped the cloth over the mirror, almost missing his whispered Please, and her wand seemed to move of her own accord as she levitated the mirror all the way back until it sat leaning against the far wall, disguising itself in the low light of the room.

She turned back just in time to watch as Bode entered the room cautiously, his eyes roaming over the half cleaned space before they settled on her.

"Hey," He greeted. "Sorry to interrupt, but boss wanted me to run something through you before I start any experiments. I just need a few minutes, if that's okay?"

"Yes, of course," Hermione answered, walking over to the entrance, all the while resisting the urge to turn back and gaze into the mirror again.

00o0o0o0o

"You actually did it in one day," Croaker commented, staring at the now spotless floor and taking note of the dark blue and black sacks in the middle of the room. "I was prepared to give you another two days at least."

"I'd like to get back to my project," Hermione answered. "So I worked as fast as I could on here. It wasn't too hard, the majority of things were completely burned, or too dark for us to safely experiment without the Dark Arts Room in top condition."

"Hmmm," The older Unspeakable nodded. "Do you think it's worth the wait to keep them safe until the room is back to full functionality?"

The bushy haired witch sighed. "Maybe? Some of them look like they could be useful in the investigations of the Love Room, or…"

"Or?"

Hermione hesitated slightly. "The Death Chamber, sir."

Croaker went quiet, regarding her through narrowed eyes as he moved closer to the sack full of dark artifacts. "Are you only saying that because of the…interest that you have on said room?"

The witch felt a surge of indignation rising as she understood the meaning between lines, but with a sigh and a nod, she answered. "No. Several of them have ties to the link between life and death that may come useful to—to whoever has a project regarding the Death Chamber."

"And what about the objects that managed to survive the fire?" The older wizard asked, abruptly changing the topic of conversation as he look inside the dark blue sack halfway full.

"Ancient tomes, some experiments that didn't quite take off, and several handwritten notes about multiple witches and wizards on spellcraft," Hermione supplied. "All of it extremely interesting and useful. I was thinking of taking it to the Records Room so that we could sort through it carefully."

Croaker hummed, acknowledging her answer, but his attention was divided between her and whatever his eyes were looking for. With a sigh, he crossed his arms lazily and turned back to her, speaking. "Was this everything that you could find?"

"Yes," She answered. "Was there something you wanted to find, sir?"

"I once came across a diary of a witch that had created a type of artifact capable of showing someone what they desired the most," The older Unspeakable stated. "It took me three months to find out that it had find its way to Hogwarts, so naturally I went and asked Dumbledore about it. He was, surprisingly, very honest about it."

"Really?" Hermione blurted out, frowning. "Professor Dumbledore—no disrespect, of course, but he's not known for…"

"Giving answers instead of riddles?" Croaker asked dryly. "Believe me, I know, but the point is that it was there—he called it the Mirror of Erised, did you ever see it when you were at Hogwarts?"

Her jaw tensed, hands traveling to the pockets of her pants to hide the way they close on a firm fist. "No, but Harry…he saw it once, he told me about it."

"Hmmm, Dumbledore was honest about the fact that it was inside the castle, but he never permitted the Department to enter and search for it," The wizard nodded. "I was—still am, actually—very, very curious about the inner workings of it. It's such an exquisite, dangerous and incredible feat of magic that I would've loved the chance to take it apart and study it…it's a shame it perished in the fire, though. Were there no remains of it?"

Please, Hermione, don't leave me

"No," She whispered, avoiding his eyes. "I didn't find anything that resembled what I've been told about the mirror, unfortunately."

"It's a shame," Croaker sighed, vanishing the black sack with a wave of his wand, and turning to walk to the entrance. "But it was to be expected. You're excused for the day, Granger. Be back here at eight sharp and we'll discuss the next step for your project."

"Yes, sir." Hermione answered, returning the small nod that her boss left her with, and gripping tightly the straps of the medium sized bag that was slung around her shoulders.

The journey to the lift and into the atrium felt like it lasted a lifetime; her hand kept tightening around the strap with each step she took, nervous energy fluttering around her stomach as she made her way through the Ministry, praying that nobody would notice the furtive looks that she sent to her bag.

The moment that green flames enveloped her, the tenseness of her body started to dissipate, leaving completely when she stumbled inside the living room of her apartment. She sagged, relieved as she dropped her bag into the sofa, slumping right next to it.

Her hands moved before she could think it through, undoing the zipper and opening the top layer of it before she froze. There was something glinting in the abyss of her bag, in the middle of the expansion charm that she had spelled into the fabric, calling and tempting her to recover the artifact that she had illegally taken from the Department of Mysteries.

She blew out a breath, putting the bag down on the ground before her and staring into the darkness inside of it, wondering about the choice that she had made, chastising herself for the rash movements that had shoved the mirror inside of her bag and her legs for allowing her to leave the Ministry with illegally acquired property—

Please, Hermione, don't leave me

The witch sighed shakily, hands rubbing at her face as she shook her head slowly.

She had made a mistake.

Why had she taken it with her?