A/N: What's this? A new chapter in less than two months? And a title drop? Whoo whoo! Also starring: Ed's mouth.

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Edward heaved a deep, heavy breath as Harry left the classroom.

Fucking hell.

He had been expecting- anticipating, even- kids asking dangerous questions sometime or another. But he hadn't foreseen them beginning to ask so soon. Frankly, he didn't know how he hadn't taken all of his remaining sense and slapped that kid into next year with it.

Harry Potter was seeming more and more like he was going to be more trouble than he wanted. And he was probably off to report to his little red-haired friend too.

Shit.

Sourly, Edward stalked into the classroom's back office, dragging his sore limbs into a softer armchair than the plain wooden stool out front and crashing his head against the back cushion. Something dangerous, alright. To make things worse, that boy still carried around that nasty aura Edward didn't understand. It definitely didn't help that he'd caught Albus' special boy and company scrounging around near forbidden hallways, either. Albus had been nice enough to ban an entire corridor rather than just the room they would be using, but perhaps just the corridor instead of the entire wing was a little too easy to root through. Add insult to injury, the Stone would still be relatively underguarded for the immediate future. The voices in his chest roiled in discomfort and agitation.

Fuck.

A thousand more expletives in at least three different languages found their way through his head before he couldn't stand it anymore. Standing with a groan and swiping his cane from where it had been abandoned at the desk, Edward hobbled out of the classroom and down the hall, taking care to look out for any more wayward students. Thankfully, it seemed that just special boys felt the need to poke their heads where they didn't belong today and he hurriedly made it to the mirror's room relatively unseen.

The building panic eased only a little as he checked the lock on the door and found it to be still sealed with alchemy. Despite it, he still had to see. He had to know- Alphonse still had to be there, hadn't he? Stars shot through his eyes as he clipped his automail foot on the frame of the door, swears turning external as he slammed the door and locked it behind him.

The gray, no-longer-dusty sheet rippled to the ground as Edward scrambled trembling fingers up to the glass, his breath falling out of him in a whoosh of relief relief relief as Al's familiar bronzen eyes gazed back at him.

"Al!" He gasped, feeling suddenly like he could breathe again.

"Hello, Brother." The boy smiled back at him, radiating happiness and calm.

"You're still here…" Edward couldn't quite fully catch his breath for some reason, slowly sinking to the floor in relief and rested his forehead against the glass. If he tried hard enough, he could almost imagine the warmth of Alphonse's hand meeting his skin.

"It's okay, Brother," Al's reassurance echoed comfortingly close.

"You still have it?" Edward whispered breathlessly.

"Have what, Brother?"

"Ah, yeah. Good, good." Why was he suddenly exhausted? Edward fought his eyes trying to close, instead pulling back to gaze at the vision so close yet so, so very far and wishing more than ever to be able to feel the breeze of Resembool once more.

"I've got to get out of this school, Al," he murmured finally, wistfully, shaking his head sadly when nothing reached him through the glass.

"Where would you go?"

"Anywhere. I don't know. Back to Germany, maybe? Find somewhere quiet again. Where we could just… I don't know. But…"

"You can't leave me." Alphonse nodded understandingly. "It's okay, Brother. I love you."

"I know." Edward smiled bitterly. "And I, you. I'll get you back. I'll get everyone back. Just you wait."

Wait.

Ha.

That's all he'd been doing for centuries.

The joke wasn't funny anymore. Never was, really.

Truth was probably laughing his limbs off somewhere.

Stay positive. For Al. For Them.

He forced a wider smile. "Hey Al, think Winry's got any cool advice for fixing this 'ol battered thing up?" He knocked his knee, extending the joint until the automail was flat on the floor and ignoring the singe of pain from the port. While his other loved ones could be seen in the mirror sometimes, they were always distant in the background. He had never been able to contact them. Not like Alphonse. Not like his brother.

"I think she'd rather throw a wrench at your head for letting it get into that state." Al joked, tittering a little and looking behind him as if the proverbial wrench was really coming.

"Yeah, you're right. Maybe it's best she doesn't find out." Ed shook his head. "But check it- it's lasted five years this time! And the arm's still okay… ish." It definitely needed a good reconditioning. Frankly, these days, he hadn't much needed to do more than desk work and the occasional heavy-laden shopping trip. The lack of necessary physical combat left his metal limbs only at the mercy of normal daily labor and his own rigorous exercise regimen. The calmer lifestyle had left him in mercifully better shape than he had dared to wish after the 1940s.

"Ish? It looks awful!"

"Yeah, yeah," Edward grumbled good-naturedly, his false positivity easing into something more genuine at the familiar banter. "Look, I just care that it's practical. It's never gonna be as streamlined as Winry's, so…"

The conversation continued to flow, Edward falling into a semblance of security as he produced his automail kit from his pocket and began to disconnect and work on his limbs, basking in the long-lost familiarity.

And if he stayed there all day, who was going to tell him no?

[Year 1860]

"…You're not real."

"What do you mean, Brother? We talked about this. We…"

"You're not real. You can stop now." Ed replied dully, the only light in his eyes that of a flickering candle. Exhaustion and acceptance pulled sickeningly at his thin frame.

"What are you talking about?" The confusion in Al's voice slowly turned to anger. "You… you're lying. You're lying!"

Edward smiled wanly though there was no joy, pale face gaunt in the candlelight. He held up his notes. Inky, scribbled gibberish near impossible to decipher.

"No, Al. I figured it out. I made it make sense. Sense! And I checked it again and again!" The blond man let out a strangled laugh, a fresh burst of adrenaline rocking his body. "You were never real. You cannot be. Alchemy cannot create life, magic cannot create life, and only one holds the door between worlds. If you were real, really, truly real, I may as well call myself a god!" He spread his arms wide, manic grin flashing teeth. "Of course! The answer had been clear all this time!" He heaved some breaths, finding it hard to breathe, "And oh, Al. Oh, Al…"

"Brother…? You're scaring me…"

"Could you imagine if it were?" He continued, voice suddenly soft around the knot in his throat, "The freedom I would bear… If I were Truth, well, this could be real! And you would be here and we could all go back home and everyone would be okay! But no… no… that would just be too easy, wouldn't it?"

His chest throbbed so.

"But Brother, I'm right here!" The fake Alphonse protested.

"Shh." Edward stood, swaying slightly, and sauntered over to the mirror. "If you were you, you would understand. You'd get it. You're smart. But…"

"But what, Brother?"

"You're forgetting one very important thing. We both did." Edward trembled, holding up his automail hand and slowly curling it into a fist. For once, he couldn't meet his brother's eyes.

"I am no god."

He should never have forgotten in the first place.

A fresh wave of misery rolled through his Stone. Licking his lips, Edward continued. "I put all of my desperation into this spell, Al. I wanted so badly and I thought…" he wavered, "And then I made the same mistake we did with mom. I thought I was better. I thought I could do the impossible. But alchemy and magic never were supposed to go together, were they?"

Here he was, making the same mistake as his apprentice once did. Like a damn fool. Arrogant, pitiful, and unforgivably human.

"I should have learned from Nicholas. You are but a product of human arrogance, and you crave nothing but what you were born to be." Finally, he met the figure in the mirror's eyes, his own vision blurring as the knot in his throat threatened to choke him again.

"You're wrong! You're going to make me cry, Brother! Don't leave me! I am… I'm…"

A soft clack. Metal fingers gently caressed down what would be his brother's face. His vision watered too much to see and he closed his lids over them.

"A wish." The human finished for it, "Nothing more, and nothing less. But a wish can't exist without a wisher, can it? You need me."

Edward waited in the sudden silence with closed eyes, waiting for an apparition to speak when it had no voice. A tear, hot and burning, traced his cheek. Slowly, so slowly, he opened his eyes again to face the sobbing figure in front of him, another false, watery smile gracing his features. "I'm sorry, Al. I've failed you again, haven't I?"

"You want me to say yes." The apparition croaked. Oh, how he hated hearing Alphonse cry.

"Perhaps. Maybe I'm feeling self-depreciative. Or maybe I really want to hear that I'm wrong, but I know too well that I'm not. Not this time."

Pulling his wand out, Edward contemplated it for a moment. In the candlelight, the dark, gothic motifs looked just as mournful as he felt. He raised his hands into a gentle clap.

"What are you doing?" For the first time, Alphonse's apparition took a step back, fists balled in uncertainty and face flashing to anger. Afraid.

"Making a reminder." He murmured. Then Edward pressed his wand into the frame, sparks of magic and alchemy together arching across in a sinister purple light. A piercing scream stabbed through his brain and his ears, chest on fire.

Head ringing, he let the reaction dissipate and stepped back, swaying. The sudden panic from the philosopher's stone slowly boiled down as together they saw Alphonse still standing in the mirror, unharmed.

"Lest anyone dare to forget." Edward murmured, admiring his handiwork.

Above them, on the stone and bronzen frame, now lay words carved elegantly in swooping letters.

Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on woshi.

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

Edward smiled faintly, bitterly. "Desire is what you are, and what you will only ever be. It is what you crave and what you fool others to seek. Desire... Erised. It is only appropriate that you mirror your own warning."

Thereupon, the (terribly, terribly small) human took a step back, cradling his sternum as he struggled to keep his balance. Still, the man's gaze managed to meet gold once more.

"I'm sorry, Al, I really am."

Then his eyes rolled back into his head and he collapsed to the floor.

[Present]

Monday came too soon. If he wasn't exercising, eating, or doing upkeep for his class, he was with Alphonse and babysitting Flamel's stone. Edward found he took comfort in the ancient familiarity of his brother, fake or not- and it had given him the time to fix up his neglected limbs. Despite it all, the Stone in his chest whispered uncomfortable warnings and misgivings about the mirror.

'Not real!' they murmured.

"I know. But Flamel's stone… it needs to be watched right now." he fought back stubbornly. He'd been keeping his eyes on Harry and the redheaded Weasley kid when out and about, and thankfully hadn't seen them anywhere near the corridor since, but he still wasn't able to unwind his thick feeling of unease. And, he silently admitted, fake or not, Alphonse's company was a welcome respite from the foolish wizards.

So come breakfast, if he was a little extra crabby having to go back to teaching, then what of it?

Edward sat next to Severus, burying his face in beans and toast when he heard the lanky man next to him let out a soft huff, which usually signaled a sneer. Sure enough, when he glanced up, Severus looked like he had bit into something sour.

"Potter's arrived early today," the man shook his head at Edward's questioning brow. Indeed, the black haired boy and Weasley had tromped into the breakfast hall at- he checked his watch- 7:00 AM. They both took suspicious glances at the teacher's table before ducking down and trying to hide in the early morning crowd. They weren't the only ones up unusually early.

"Class anxiety, I bet." Edward huffed, amused. And then, taking advantage of the noisy chatter, "Say, what is your gripe with the Potter kid? You've been giving him the stink face at every meal since the semester started." Snape's face immediately soured.

"He just looks like someone I used to know." the man grumbled.

"Harry looks a lot like his father," Professor McGonagall, on Edward's other side, interrupted. "But so far he seems more down to earth than James ever was. …Perhaps more timidwould be the correct word. I hope he will grow in confidence with time, though perhaps faster than James learned responsibility. Lily's in there somewhere too. We are lucky to have him. Very lucky indeed." There was a hint of pride in her voice.

"Yes…" Severus reluctantly agreed.

"You knew his parents?" Edward pried them both. Severus snorted.

"Of course I did."

"I taught them all." McGonagall raised an eyebrow, "And I remember well. I have been teaching here for thirty-five years. James was… rambunctious and rebellious at times but quite clever. Lily was one of my best students."

"I don't know what she saw in him." Severus groused, seeming to extremely dislike the turn of conversation.

"Perhaps his cleverness, his bravery. He was a very compelling man, when he tried. Lily did do her best to curb his more… obtuse behavior and taught him some kindness over the years. He was quite a fine man when he graduated. I am just sorry it took him so long to get over his teenage ire."

That last comment was definitely projected at the potions teacher. Severus, on the other hand, was done with the conversation. Without finishing his food, the man stood and skulked out of the hall like a massive dark bat.

"Sensitive topic, I see," Edward shrugged and returned to his beans and toast.

"Yes… you should know, since the rest of the staff is already aware. James was a bully to him in school, but Lily was his best friend. He didn't take it well when she started dating James. And especially not when they died. Please do try to be courteous with the subject around him, until he has time to process. It was hard on us all, but he took it the hardest. Harry's presence here is a shock to all of us who knew them. He does look uncannily like James… except for his eyes. He has Lily's eyes."

Edward nodded thoughtfully. He understood loss and grief all too well. And hell- even he had his own Alphonse double currently in the castle (though only because Hohenheim had neglected to be rid of it). To see the dead alive again in some way shape or form… he wasn't going to say that it was easy. But Harry was at least alive and real…

(600 years and Alphonse still wasn't. None of them were.)

His chest burned in discomfort.

"I see. Thank you for letting me know." he smiled at Minerva, and she smiled solemnly back.

"Even I was shaken when I had my first class with him. I think it will take a few weeks to get used to. But I have no doubt that he will be able to make both of his parents very proud."

"Speaking of which…" Edward pondered, "Is there a reason he was left with his aunt and uncle instead of some other relatives? They didn't seem very keen on having him."

At this, it was Minerva's turn to sour. "Albus has his ways…" she said carefully, and Edward nearly rolled his eyes at the mention of the headmaster. How many pies did he really have his fingers in? "I cannot say I quite agree with his every decision, but he always has a good reason. And since Harry's godfather was sentenced to Azkaban… the Dursleys are the next of kin. Muggle though they are."

He did not miss her head do a tiny shake of incredulity.

"Can't say its one I agree with either," Edward said with a sigh, remembering the way the Dursleys had reacted to him and Hagrid. How many lives was Albus really playing with? And, he thought grumpily to himself, how in the hell had he let himself get put under his thumb too?

Verdammt.

Losing his appetite as well, Edward let the rest of the teachers' table talk wash over him as he glared thoughtfully at the students coming and going below.

Albus obviously wanted him here. He wouldn't have bargained otherwise to let him stay. Possibly not have let Nicholas send that letter. Much less demand to have him interact with the students. But ever since Edward had joined the staff, Albus hadn't made a huge effort to try and get close to him again, which threw out his first guess. …so what was Albus' real end goal here?

By the time his first class of the day started, he still hadn't come up with an answer.

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A/N: McGonagall: *chooses violence*

Ed: Fucking hell Albus dickhat Dumbledore I'm gonna punch myself for being an idiot