The classroom was abandoned, save for a girl sitting in a corner, writing with a look of concentration on her face. She had been sitting on the same slab of cold stone for the past two hours, dutifully writing out an essay for Potions class. Her quill hadn't stopped moving once in that long time period except for those brief moments when she dipped it in ink or when she set a new sheet of parchment aside.
Dusk was falling, and the last rays of the sun shone pink over the room's high window. Everything was quiet except for the scratching of her quill against parchment.
Outside, she someone giggled, a loud, obnoxious noise that echoed throughout the stone corridor into the room. Hermione Granger sighed in annoyance and tucked a piece of stray brown hair behind her ear. She had exceeded the minimum required length for the essay by two rolls of parchment, so all she needed to do now was finish up her conclusion. If only she could focus, she would be done.
The giggles seemed to be getting louder and Hermione covered her ears, straining herself.
Think, Hermione, think, she thought. What else can you say about laceweed in restorative draughts?
If only the girl outside would be quiet. Hermione knew the answer was at the tip of her mind. All she needed was some peace and quiet so she could focus.
After waiting with bated breath for a few seconds, she relaxed. The giggling seemed to have stopped.
No sooner had she sat back down and began writing again did the giggles start back up, sounding like someone was right outside the door. Hermione cast aside her papers angrily, deciding to walk to the door and give whoever it was a piece of her mind.
Before she could stride across the room, however, the door was opened from the other side. Two people tumbled in, crawling on top of each other in a way that made Hermione sick.
She coughed loudly, and the couple popped apart. Lavender Brown giggled at Hermione, who glared back. "Excuse me, but I was just trying to finish my homework in here," Hermione said icily.
Lavender giggled again, and Hermione closed her eyes, as if the sound of the giggles actually caused her physical pain.
"Sorry," Lavender chirped, "Won-Won and I just wanted a room." She stroked Ron Weasley's cheek tenderly, and he turned a flaming red the color of his hair.
"'M sorry 'Mione," Ron mumbled, refusing to meet Hermione's cold glare.
"Don't be," Hermione snapped. She fought back the lump in her throat as she snatched up her papers. One of them ripped and she groaned in exasperation. "Reparo!" she said, jabbing at the torn page of her essay. Immediately, the page repaired itself.
"Now if you two lovebirds don't mind," she said loftily," "I'm off to do my homework somewhere else." Her voice shook a little as she said this; and although she tried to sound angry, she couldn't help it when her voice cracked at the end of the sentence.
Then, without sparing them another look, Hermione marched off to the open door, leaving Ron open-mouthed.
"Wait- Hermione," he called.
She stopped in her tracks, but didn't turn around.
"Sorry," he said meekly. Hermione huffed.
"Oh, just let her go," Lavender whined, tugging Ron's arm. "She's not worth it."
Hermione flared up with anger. She had half a mind to turn around and hex Lavender. She had always thought Lavender was okay, albeit a bit brainless. She could understand Lavender's obsession with Divination and even her disbelief of Harry's story in their fifth year, but this was the last straw. How dare Lavender Brown say that she, Hermione Granger, was not worth it?
Hermione pulled herself up to her full height, pushing her chest out indignantly, before slinking out of the room. What had she been thinking? She shouldn't let her emotions get to the better of her. She was a prefect, for heaven's sake. She should have known better!
As she closed the door behind her, she caught a glimpse of Lavender snogging Ron, her legs wrapped around his waist.
Hermione dashed around the corner and into the next abandoned classroom before she threw her supplies down and slid to the floor, crying.
She hardly even minded that her essay was now soaked with ink, she was so upset. She knew it was stupid and girlish for her to act this way, but she just couldn't help it around Ron, that little git.
She clenched her fists in frustration. She didn't even know how she had come to fancy Ron in the first place, but now that she was completely sure of her feelings, seeing him was like a constant headache. He could do so much better than that giggling prat of a girl.
See, most people that knew Hermione Granger would be jealous of her. Sure, her appearance could use some improvement, but the rest of her life seemed to be perfect. Of course, they didn't know the constant heartache that she'd been having for the past year.
There had been a few times when she'd gotten her hopes up that he'd liked her, like during the Yule Ball, for instance. She supposed that was when she finally realized she had feelings for him.
Of course, before the ball, she had wanted Ron to ask her, but was too scared to admit her feelings, even to herself. At the back her mind, though, she had subconsciously known that she'd always had a soft spot for him.
It's not like she was using Viktor Krum though, for she'd liked him too, just maybe more as a friend than as a lover, she thought with a twinge of guilt. Granted, Krum had charmed her with his quiet intelligence and moody demeanor. Who would have known that underneath that brooding, mysterious shell lay an intelligent young man?
Viktor wasn't a bragger in the very least, though. He seemed to hate attention, and the only reason Hermione knew of his intelligence was what she deduced from the lively conversations they had. He was quiet, with the air of someone dark and mysterious, and he always tried to make intellectual conversation with her (as opposed to annoying her to no end.) In short, he was the complete opposite of Ron Weasley.
So how had she come to fancy Ron, then? It was still a mystery to her, even after a year of wondering. All she knew was that that night, the night of the Yule Ball, she had bewitched Ron with her hidden beauty and felt unjustifiably giddy about doing so.
Of course, Ron had denied having interest in her, but Hermione knew, just like every girl knows. Or at least she thought she knew.
I mean, why else would he have acted like a jealous prat all night at the ball during fourth year? Though she would never openly admit it to him, she'd known that his eyes had been following her all night, watching her as she danced and giggled with Viktor. And then when she'd gone to talk to them, she had pretended not to notice his eyes raking her body shamelessly, though the jealous pout was still tacked to his face. It gave her a little thrill to know that he found her attractive.
Of course, there had been the shouting match after, where she'd dropped hints that she liked him, but being the obtuse idiot he was, he didn't seem to pick that up. Either that or he chose to ignore them.
Then, hadn't there been times they'd spent without Harry where he'd shown signs of liking her? She remembered in particular that one time at the beginning of fifth year on the Hogwarts Express where they had been patrolling the corridors on prefect duty. She had lightly touched his chest, and he had flinched back as if he'd been burnt. She had enjoyed watching the colour spread across his cheeks, and he had been unable to do more than mumble and stutter for a full five minutes.
"Hi, Hermione!" someone said, jerking her out of her reverie.
"'Lo, Ginny," she said morosely, her mind still half on Ron.
"What's wrong?" Ginny asked, her eyebrows scrunching into a V. "Is it that one Arithmancy exam you thought you did badly on?"
Hermione shook her head and smiled blandly.
A look of comprehension dawned upon Ginny's face. "Oh, this is about Ron, isn't it?"
Hermione smiled wryly. Yes, even Hermione Granger had guy problems. Especially Hermione Granger.
"What's he done now, that ugly git?" asked Ginny. "Gone to eat Lavender's face, I s'pose?"
Hermione nodded, and Ginny made a retching noise. "They really need to stop that," she said. "Anyway, I'm sure he'll come around soon. He's just too stupid to realize he likes you."
Hermione grinned, hoping this was true. "Thanks, Ginny," she said, hugging her friend. "I guess I better go find somewhere else to finish my essay then."
She swept off towards the nearest staircase.
It took Hermione a few minutes to acknowledge that she was lost. She had been walking for quite a bit, thinking, just thinking, about what she had seen and what Ginny had said. Could it be true? After all, Ginny was Ron's sister, so she ought to know him pretty well. And as for the sight she saw, the image of Lavender crawling atop Ron would be permanently etched into Hermione's mind. Each time she thought about it, she had a strange urge to cry and to throw something at the same time.
Looking around down the corridor, she recognized nothing. Beside her, on the wall, there was a painting of a wizard playing chess with his dog. After walking up and down the hallway one more time, she stopped beside the painting. There was nothing more for it.
"Ahem," she coughed. A smile twitched at the corner of her lips as she recognized how much she sounded like Umbridge.
When the occupant of the painting didn't look up, she cleared her throat. "Excuse me," she said. The man in the painting looked at her sullenly. "Can you tell me how to get down to the library?"
The man looked back at her from under hooded eyelids, a look of deep resentment etched into his face. The dog in the painting barked loudly.
When the man finally spoke, it was in a deep, croaking voice that reminded Hermione of a frog. "Yeh kids neva come ova here excep' ta acks me how ta git out."
"Sorry?" said Hermione.
"Ungrateful lot, yeh are."
Hermione was starting to get impatient; she still had to finish her essay. "Look, I'm sorry you're stuck up here alone, but can you just tell me how to get out?"
He gave her a look of deep loathing, much like the look Kreacher gave her every time he saw her. (Not, of course, that it was Kreacher's fault. He'd simply had a faulty upbringing.)
"Okay, look 'ere so I don' gotta explain this again. Jus' go righ' down ta the end o' the corr'dor an' make a righ' at the las' classroom. Go all the way through tha' and yeh'll see a painting o' a nice lil' girl who'll see ya back."
With that, the man looked resolutely away from her, focusing on his card game.
Hermione followed his instructions, walking down the hallway quickly so that her robes flopped behind her. At the end, she stepped into the classroom on the right.
Unlike the dank, dark room she had been sitting in before she was so unceremoniously interrupted, this one was flooded with light. It was so bright she found herself blinded for a few moments. Her hair stood on end, and she could feel a tingling in her toes. There was magic this place.
But of course there was magic in this place! This was Hogwarts, for crying out loud!
The room was illuminated by a single skylight set in the ceiling that seemed to be a million miles away. She must be in one of the towers, then. How had she managed to walk so far?
Right under the skylight stood a magnificent mirror, large enough to reflect the light and spread it around the room, engulfing it in a warm (and rather blinding) glow.
Hermione walked forward, frowning at it. She had heard of this mirror before- the Mirror of Erised!- but what was it doing in a place like this?
Maybe it's fate telling you to look into it, said a voice in her head.
Don't be silly!, snapped another voice. Don't be lured in by temptation. You know what Dumbledore's said about this mirror.
But Hermione couldn't help herself, for despite all her self-restraint, her one weakness was her curiosity, and it was this curiosity that let her to look into the mirror.
After all, Ron and Harry had seen their heart's greatest desires, so why shouldn't she?
However, when she stepped in front of it, the image on the mirror didn't transfix her as it had transfixed her friends. Sure, she gazed at it with longing, but the practical part of her mind told her that it could only be a dream.
There in the mirror she was, but older. She was also much prettier, with hair as sleek as Cho Chang's, but the colour of warm honey. Her eyes seemed brighter, and her eyebrows were no longer wild and overgrown. Her pink cheeks were a bit more hollowed, and overall, she looked much more mature.
This couldn't be her deepest desire, though, could it? Maybe it was one of Fred and George's jokes. Sure, she knew she wasn't the most gorgeous, but most of the time, it hardly bothered her. Was she really so vain and shallow that her heart's greatest desire was to be beautiful?
Looking closer at the reflection, she saw that she was wearing a badge pinned to her lapel. “Hermione Granger,” it said. Underneath her name, in cramped writing, were the words “Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.”
Back in the room, Hermione smiled serenely. So beauty wasn't her deepest desire. What a relief! Still, the reflection in the mirror came as a bit of a surprise. Sure, she was passionate about S.P.E.W., but she never thought her biggest ambition would to be to bridge the gap between humans and other magical creatures. Maybe the reflection was just a representation or her desire to keep the peace among all magical beings.
She turned away from the mirror, satisfied- but wait, there was more. Someone else stepped into the frame, grinning like he had just won the Quidditch World Cup. He tugged a child into view, a girl with red hair as bushy as Hermione's who beamed up at her reflection in the mirror. Ron, who had also seemed to have aged a bit, went up to mirror-Hermione and swung his arm around her in satisfaction.
In the room, Hermione made a strangled noise at the back of her throat. She felt a pull at the bottom of her stomach, and her heart seemed to actually ache with want, looking at this happy family smiling back at her.
She couldn't stand it anymore. Summoning up all her willpower, she tore herself away from the mirror and dashed away, not bothering to try to find her way back. All she wanted to do was to put some distance between herself and the mirror.
*
Harry Potter tired to studiously ignore the two teenagers making out right beside him. Absentmindedly, he chewed on the top of his quill. Where was Hermione?
Just as he thought this, the portrait hole opened, and Hermione stumbled in, her cheeks red. She was breathing as if she'd run a marathon, but waved to Harry happily. As usual, she glared at the tangle of arms that was Ron and Lavender and turned her back to him.
“Where've you been?' Harry asked. “I really need help on my Potions essay.”
Hermione dumped her books down on the squishy armchair beside him and slumped down. “I've got to finish it, too.” She opened her mouth to tell Harry that she'd finally seen the Mirror of Erised because closing it again. If she told him, he'd probably want to know what she saw.
“So what have you been up to today?” Harry asked. “I was so bored hanging out with this lot.” He gestured to Ron and Lavender.
Hermione made a noncommital grunt at the back of her throat. “Nothing,” she lied. She pulled Harry's parchment towards her. “Let's finish these essays- what? You haven't started yet?”
She looked up at Harry incredulously when she saw that he hadn't written anything.
He shrugged, embarrassed, and gave her a sheepish grin.