CHAPTER FIFTEEN: DESIRE

His brown eyes stared into her golden ones. They never said a single word, but just sat, facing each other. He seemed almost like a ghost, or a vision. She felt no need to speak. Pan stared, wide eyed at Kirjava, but there was a tiny feeling in the back of his mind that it wasn't real, none of it was. The sun was setting behind her and no one entered the room, she felt as though she should speak, but was at a loss as of what to say. It seemed they could talk for a hundred years but never get anywhere. She almost felt that her speaking would break the spell. It wasn't for another hour, until she heard the footsteps behind her, that the image disappeared.

"Lizzie…" he said, walking on eggshells behind her.

"Oh… what. Oh, it's you…"

"Well, uh, hi. I… see you found the mirror of the erised."

"The what?" she said, sad that the dream was over.

"You see, that mirror only shows you what you want most of all. I found this my first year too."

She sighed. "Seems to me you did all of this your first year. I'm not like you, you know. I never will be."

He knew she would get defensive. He spoke slowly and gently, knowing somehow that she was unaware of the tears rolling down her cheeks.

"No, I guess you're not. You're better. I hate to admit it, but you are. If you don't mind me asking… what do you… see exactly?"

She seemed to finally snap out of the trance, aware of her own tears.

"What's it with you being all nice to me suddenly. Seemed to me like you hated me."

Harry suddenly felt a strange sensation. He felt as though this girl had been through all that he had, and more. He felt as though he could suddenly tell her anything in the world, and she would understand. She was nothing like him. She was more than he could ever imagine being. This small, wiry girl was full of mystery, and full of memories. He could tell.

"I never hated you. I'm just… scared."

"Of what?" she said, suddenly curious, "The famous Harry Potter? Scared?"

"Of you. Believe it or not, I like you. And I think I know what's in that mirror. I think I see almost the same thing."

"Oh, really?" raising one eyebrow, "Do you?"

"My parents died when I was a baby…"

"Well, everyone knows that."

"And I see them standing beside me. Are you an orphan, if you don't mind me asking…"

"I see one thing in that mirror, and it ent me parents. You could say I'm an orphan. I've only known me parents for a year, my dad was my uncle for a long time. If anything, I wish I were an orphan so I wouldn't have to worry about them… They never loved me anyway…"

"Oh I'm sure they do… did?"

"Don't know if they're alive, don't care. My mother's tried to kill me before, and worse."

"Oh… well…. that's…."

"A pity? A shame? I hope they're dead. Neither of them ever wanted me. Only one person really did. I mean, the others loved me, but not like this… he was the only one," she stared off vacantly, "The only one…"

"Well… if you'd rather not talk about it…"

"Well, if you'd rather not listen."

He hated to say it, but he was intrigued by her.

"Who… who were they?"

"As if you'd know. I can't tell you that. I ent trustin mister Famous Harry Potter with that."

"Listen, I didn't want to be-"

"I know, and you don't deserve it either. But that ent the point. At least you don't remember. At least you HAD parents…"

He sat there in silence.

"I WISH I were in a spot like yours!"

"SOMEONE WANTS TO KILL ME!"

"Oh, well lots of people want to kill me. My mother wants to kill me… she nearly did too… she gave me up when I was born and then tried to make me like her… like HER!"

She thrashed herself against the mirror.

"I'm… sorry…"

"Oh what would you know! You don't even know what I see. Oh it's all cute and nice, you seein yer PARENTS. I wish… No, I don't," then she looked him straight in the eye "You will NEVER know what it's like to not be patted on the back EVERY TIME you do the right thing. EVERY time! No one knows what I do, and no one can know. You can't even know my real NAME!"

"Wait, what?"

"Nothing…" she said. If she kept going on like this she would lose her cover. What was wrong with her?

He stared at her, an awkward silence between them. He wasn't sure if he should question her further. Then finally, after five solid minutes of silence, he managed to whisper:

"Oh. Well then, what do you see?"

"You wouldn't get it."

"Of course you wouldn't."

"Well… try me."

She sighed, feeling as though she could tell him.

"A long time ago, there was a boy that I met. He had people after him too… We can't be together anymore, and I love him. I think I always will. You ever loved anyone like that?"

"Well…" he thought of Cho, "well… no…"

"And every Midsummers day we would meet, if just for an hour. Last midsummer I wound up here. Haven't seen him in two years," she said, tears still streaming down her face despite her lucid speech.

He thought of Cho again, with her silky black hair. She was beautiful, but… he never wondered if he really loved her or if that was all. She was like this girl, only Cedric could never come back.

"What was his name?"

"You think I'd tell YOU that?"

"Well… why can't you see him anymore?"

"That's the trouble, I can't tell anyone. Not even Fred and George know all the details. He's not from where I am."

"Like, a different country…"

"You could say that."

And so they sat there in silence, staring at the mirror, with their true loves crowded around them, smiling in silence. And, for at least that moment, there was no fear, or jealousy, or ego. There were just two poor orphaned children who were lost and afraid, and only had each other to guide themselves home.

And though they both thought of it, they couldn't dare say it…

They were more alike than they would admit.

He looked into a mirror and saw her. She was beautiful, as she always was, with golden hair and eyes that shone in the small ray of sunlight. She looked hazy, as if she would fade away with the slightest breeze. He reached out to touch her and she vanished with a blood curdling scream that faded and faded into nothingness as the mirror shattered, raining onto him…

Will awoke to find himself in the same darkened room as he heard the snake eyed man shouting upstairs. He knew she would never come back, but every now and then he saw her, in a dream or in a vision. He knew she was closer than he expected, but feared her fate.

It pained him to know that if he had the knife, he could have had her in his arms, safe and sound in a world of their own. But that dream had long died with his will to fight and survive. He just lay, his head on the cold brick, covered in bruises, staring at the little ray of light shining like Lyra's lion eyes.