Harry Potter Erised Severus

Severus paced impatiently outside of the museum. He had waited precisely thirty-seven days for the fuss about the Mirror of Erised to die down, and now, he waited for the damn Museum to open. Unlike many of the visitors to the famed mirror, Severus knew exactly what he would see in the mirror. He would see Lily, Lily still alive. Lily with him.

But knowing what he would see didn't change the fact that he wanted, no _needed _to see it. Lily was the entire reason that he had fought in the damn war, and he'd expected to be with her by now. He'd not expected for his childhood friend, and teenage love to give up her husband in the afterlife, but he'd hoped - oh, how hard he'd hoped - that she would forgive him. Severus thought he could stand seeing Lily with James, just as long as she would still speak to him.

The curator seemed surprised to have a patron push past him as he un-warded the front door, nearly falling over as Severus whirled through the gallery in a _swoosh_ of black fabric. He knew exactly where the room that held the Mirror was, knew exactly how long the wards on the room would let him linger there. He had fifteen minutes, precisely, to observe his ideal dream. Fifteen minutes in which he could see, in front of him, the way his life could have gone, had he made better choices.

He stood in front of the door, and placed the palm of his hand against the wood, feeling the wards recognize that he'd not passed through before. He took a deep breath, and stepped into the darkened room. The only light was shed on the Mirror itself. Severus stepped in front of it, and sighed in happiness.

There was his Lily. His beautiful, wonderful Lily. She looked to be fifteen, from her stature, and her hairstyle. She'd particularly liked plaits at that age, Severus remembered fondly. That was the year that he'd called her a Mudblood, and that she'd forsaken him for Potter. And there was that same scene playing out - except he'd fought back. Potter and Black were writhing on the ground, boils across their skin. And Lily was holding his hand, kissing his cheek…

Severus sighed happily, a rare smile drifting across his face, watching the images again. This was… perfect. If only he could live here, forever… inside the mirror. Severus fumbled with the vial of potion in his pocket… No, it was not time for that, not yet.

The scene in the mirror was changing. His seventeenth birthday, and there was Lily again, holding a lopsided cake with candles out to him. Mirror-Severus blew out the candles, took the cake from her hands, and kissed her lips. He did it confidently, easily, without fear. He kissed her as if he'd never kissed another woman, and never would. And Lily, Lily kissed him back with the same passion.

And she took his hand, drawing him up the stairs of her childhood home into her bedroom. The kiss became even more heated, hands wandering without reason. Lily's nimble fingers unbuttoning his shirt, drawing it over his shoulders, and dropping it to the floor. As mirror-Severus returned the favour, the Severus of the real world caught a clear glimpse of bare skin on his right arm. Bare. No dark mark in sight.

Lily's red hair fanned out across his chest. They were older now, and his hand smoothed gently through the soft locks. Real-Severus's hands twitched, aching and desperate to touch the hair of his love just one more time.

They were brewing together, in a lab. Subtle glances, gestures and unsaid words. It was like a dance, almost - they danced around each other as they prepared ingredients and brewed a perfect potion. Poetry in motion - or, really, potions, in motion.

Time jumped forwards again, and Mirror-Lily is pregnant. Mirror-Severus brews her potions to stop morning sickness, and to keep the babe healthy. He sings to her swollen stomach, and in his mind Severus knows it is the croon his Mother sung to him as a child.

Severus could hear the buzzing sound of the wards alerting him that he had one more minute before he had to leave the room. His fingers once more found the potion vial in his pocket. He raised it to his lips, uncorking it and downing the bitter brew, all the while watching the Lily - _his Lily -_ in the mirror.

"Forever, Lily," he whispered aloud. "I am yours forever, whether you'll have me or not."

- HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP -

The curator scowled as he moved to the room that housed the Mirror of Erised. The man that had knocked him over that morning was apparently refusing to remove himself from the Mirror, the stupid fool. Even the precautions of the wards hadn't managed to eject him, so the job would fall to him.

When he finally reached the room, and entered, he felt ill. Sitting with its back to the wall was a corpse. The man from that morning, had died in the room. His eyes were open, and a half-smile was present on his face despite the blood that was dribbled out from the left side of his mouth. In his left hand was the head of a flower, a white lily.

The exhibit of the Mirror of Erised will be closed, and the mirror itself hidden in the Department of Mysteries, covered in cloth so that no other wizard can be tempted to throw away their soul to the dreams in the mirror.


End file.

Harry Potter, Angst, Romance