The stages of a brair rose

Hermione silently walked through the huge, wooden, Victorian-looking doors she seemed to know so well and stepped onto the tiled floor, which was still ridiculously shiny even at night when the stars shown white. In front of her was the mirror; the big, golden mirror propped on lion claws.

It was always here. Everything was always the same. With a shuffle of her feet and a quiet noise from her silky night dress, she walked to the beautiful mirror expecting to see her reflection that always seemed to depress her. She knew she had self-esteem problems, but she still was not radiant or pretty and she knew it.

But, a different picture was in front of her. Her thick, bushy hair had transformed into sleek, shiny tendrils of brunette curls outlines porcelain, perfectly shaped face. Her usually puffy red eyes were liquid brown and surrounded by thick black lashes, and she was wearing a spectacular silver dress and fitted her perfectly and brought out her dreamy-looking shape.

And a blur of colors stood beside her, fuzzy but tall and erect, and unrecognizable. Her reflection smiled and held the man's hand to her side.

And then she was running- running into the mirror. Running into the distant white nothingness and away from who she was and who she would be, and disappearing from the real.

And now she was falling, scenes of her life flashing like an old black-and-white movie before her, Ron and Harry, Draco and everyone and everything she'd seen or done or met in the past. And the beautiful woman-herself- in the mirror of Erised.

Erised stra ahru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi. I show not your face but your heart's desire.

And it was all gone.

Hermione bolted up in her bed, and she could feel cold beads of sweat trickling down her brow.

Annoyed at herself for breaking the promise to never have the dream again, she quietly pulled back the covers and shuffled over to her mirror in the room only lit by the moon peeking through the curtains at the far side of the dormitory.

Once her eyes had adjusted and her pupils were correctly dilated, she could see her real reflection and took in was what really there and what she really did not want to wake up to every morning. She patted her frizzy, massive head of hair and pulled it into a messy ponytail.

Checking to clock on her nightstand a few feet away, she read the flashing green numbers- 5:44. Might as well stay up, she thought to herself and slipped out the door and into the Gryffindor Girl's bathroom to her left.

Turning on the luke-warm water and removing her nightgown, the water felt good against her bare, olive-toned skin, and her hair calmed down a bit after being freshly washed with cream-rinse her mother had bought her from a muggle shop.

After had turned of the water and put on a fuzzy red robe, she turned the knob on the door and walked out. A red-headed boy rubbing his eyes tiredly caught her attention from down the hall.

"'Lo, Ron," Hermione called. He waved wearily and walked toward her, Hermione doing the same. They met in front of a slumbering picture of unicorn. He looked down and blushed a bit, finally noticing she was only draped in a soaking robe.

"Hello, Mione," he said, grinning. "I heard the shower and decided to take a peak. Little did I know I would walk into you," he said, gesturing to the robe with his hand.

"Did you wake up Harry?" she asked, blushing a little herself now. Ron shook his head in a no.

"It's Saturday, and I only fumbled out of bed to see girls in the shower," he joked. Hermione giggled. "And I found you, instead." Hermione hit him in the shoulder in a friendly gesture, even thought it did bother her a bit because she was already so self-conscious.

She walked along the hall with him until they were next to the door of the boy's rooms and Ron grabbed her arm, suddenly serious.

"So did you have the dream again?" he asked her. Hermione nodded. "You should tell Harry. He's the expert on dreams."

"Okay," Hermione told him. "It's no bid deal, though. I don't think they mean anything," she lied, knowing perfectly well they did. And at That, Harry opened the door next to her, scratching his head.

Hermione realized with horror she was still in her damp bath robe and clutched it closer to her, trying not to let her face turn a deep crimson. Harry smiled, still half asleep and not noticing what she was wearing.

"Hmm, Hrmne, Hmm, Rnn," he muttered inaudibly, his lips staying glued together. Hermione realized he didn't have his glasses on and felt a little dizzy.

He walked past them both to the bathroom and Ron and Hermione stared at each other blankly.

"So right now I should probably be downstairs being crabby and working on a non-existent Arithmancy page, am I correct?" she asked him. He shrugged at her.

"Only if you want to," Ron told her. "But it's not like anyone's going to fail you if you go with us to Hogsmeade." Hermione smacked her forehead.

"Ugh, I completely forgot."

"So, do you want to go or not?" Ron asked. Hermione squeezed her hair absentmindedly and a few droplets of water fell onto the floor.

"Sure. Harry's going, right?" Hermione tried to ask casually. Ron nodded and it felt like a pebble or something tiny had gone through his stomach. I'm probably just hungry, he tried to reassure himself.

This feeling was new to him; it had started just last year when Hermione had told him that she was beginning to develop a crush on Harry. I get hungry at some pretty weird times.

He could get 'hungry' when he was looking in her eyes, or she laughed, or she had that dreamy expression on her face. But it mostly came when she talked about Harry. Or when she cried. He hated it when she cried, because when she was crying, he would be tempted to weep along with her.

And sometimes he wished they could just weep together. Hermione brought him back to reality and when turned on her heel and walked to the dormitory door.

"I'm going to change, okay?" she called. Ron didn't answer, but she closed the door anyway and he could hear her wet robe fall to the floor.

Shaking his head at himself, he quickly rushed into the dorm to change and, while he was cursing himself, he shut his finger in the door.

"SON OF A...," he yelled, frantically nursing his red index finger in his mouth.

"Ron?" Hermione and Harry said in Harmony. He looked back and saw that his two other roommates- Dean and Seamus- were still asleep. It seemed like the entire class of Gryffindors- including Hermione, surprisingly- had partied until dawn on account of Harry winning the place of Quidditch captain.

Apparently, they had drank a little too much butterbeer, and Seamus ended up jumping on top of a chandelier and no one could get him down.

"The ground is lava," he had explained giddily. "And you have to jump like THIS!"

Harry Ran out of the bathroom with a toothbrush stuck between his lips, foaming profusely at the mouth. Hermione peered at him from the other end of the hallway, buttoning up her blue jeans to go with her collared, white t-shirt.

"I slammed my goddam finger in the door!" he howled. Hermione thudded over to him, flipping her hair over her shoulder haphazardly and pulling her wand out of her now-buttoned pants pocket. He took his hand in hers and pointed the wand at his bent finger.

"Sanus Aster," she murmured, and his finger returned to normal.

"Thanks," Ron muttered.

"No problem," Hermione said lightly and smiled at Harry, who returned it. Ron felt the stone hit his stomach again.

* * *

Once Hermione's spell had taken the pain away from his finger, Ron walked into the dormitory and stared at his freckly reflection in the mirror. He noticed his hair was almost as messy as Harry's, and so he used the brush sitting on the table to comb it down.

And Hermione had her head resting on his shoulder. He jumped slightly as she appeared almost out of thin air. Harry was beside her, and when she laughed he thought she was overdoing it a bit. It sounded almost as if she were singing instead of giggling, and he wasn't necessarily saying this was bad, because she sounded good either way.

And so there the three of them were, all staring into the mirror on either side of Ron.

We make a good couple, Hermione thought, deciding that she meant Harry. She watched as she fixed his glasses absently.

"Are you ready to go?" Ron asked. Hermione checked her watch.

"It's only six thirty."

"Great- we can get there before it gets crowded and hot," Harry said, running his fingers through his jet-black locks. Hermione was tempted to help him with the task. But instead, she grinning and yanked Ron's hairline on the back of his neck. His head moved back a few inches with his hair.

"My geniuses," she joked, sneakily grabbing Harry and hugging the two of them close.

Look who's the genius, Hermione thought. Here I have my crush in my arms.

"So is everyone ready to go?" Harry asked, fixing the collar of his shirt. Hermione thought it matched his eyes. Ron nodded. "Alright then," he said, picking up his broom from his bedside.

"Harry...," Hermione said. "You're... You're not really thinking of flying, are you?"

"I'm up!" Ron chimed in. Hermione bit her lip in a worried manor. Ron thought she did that too often.

"Hey," Harry said, casting a hearty grin in her direction that made her heart jump and her knees melt like candle wax. "Who ever said that traveling in style meant never breaking the law?" She attempted to look scornful, but failed and let out a cross between a sigh and a laugh.

"Fine. I'm in."

"Atta' girl!" Ron exclaimed, slapping her on the back. Harry laughed and stepped onto the open window ledge. It was quite warm for February, and the boys had left the window open to circulate the air and, quite frankly, wake them up from their hangovers in the morning.

He mounted the Firebolt, and Hermione quickly hopped on after him. Ron was the last, and Hermione had to admit that when they took off she felt quite safe squeezed between two of her muscular friends.

Hermione thought that Harry's hair smelled like apples. She wrapped her arms around his waist as he steered the broom expertly up and then down again in a heart-stopping swoop. The wind whipped through her hair and Hermione felt adrenaline rush through her body. It was quite fun, actually.

Ron, however, immediately had trouble staying on the end without just slipping off and falling to his death. He pulled at Hermione's shoulders fearfully like a small child and her curly brown hair blew over him. He acted as if it were a shield and clenched his eyes shut.

"Ron, What the hell?" Hermione yelled as his fingernails dug into her shoulder blades. She looked over her shoulder and saw him cowering like a small kitten, and snorted.

"Look there, Harry. That's your best friend." Ron couldn't help but fight a small laugh.

"Here," she said, whipping out her wand and pointing it at his waist. "Ceruchus auxilium nonvirdere."

He felt an invisible rope wrap around him, connected to Hermione.

"Hey, Thanks," He muttered, embarrassed.

"No problem. Oh my god, Ron, look down!" Hermione screamed Ron looked at her with a cross between skeptical and disbelieving.

"Are you mad?" he yelled at her.

"Just do it, or you'll miss it!"

"Not a chance on god's green Earth!"

"Do it, god dammit!"

"No!"

"Yes!"

"Quit it," Harry said, breaking into the quarrel. "Ron, you've got to see this, just look!" Slowly, Ron lowered his eyes, removed his hands from his eyes, and gasped audibly. They were about a thousand feet from the ground, and the forests on either side of them looked like small pieces of died fuzz, and a long, thin red line curving in and out along a miniscule trail marked the Hogsmeade train carrying their fellow students.

"Oh, right, you listen to Harry," Hermione said in a mockingly grumpy tone. They all laughed a little and headed onward with the train, puffing small patches of gray smoky blobs here and there.

I knew I liked my friend for some reason, Hermione thought to herself.

* * *

When they landed at the opening of Hogsmeade, Harry stood the broom up against the three broomsticks and put a lock spell on it to keep anyone from stealing it. The three of them, winded a bit from the ride and the pressure of body squished between body, walked down the sunny, Indian summer-lit street and passed many shops, including one Ron had never seen before that apparently sold poems.

As they walked by, Ron managed to glance at the paper in the window.

The stages of a briar rose

At birth, the rose is green as grass

And then it turns to red

And brown as thy time passed

But then it turns inky black,

Frozen as the ice takes over

Frozen as it's looking back.

Envy, passion, growing old,

Black as night as its soul's sold.

The poem was deep, that much was said quite clearly. And, after a few seconds of deciphering, he realized that they were the stages of a broken relationship.

"Whoa. Light stuff," he muttered. Hermione looked at him.

"What's that?" she asked. Ron shook his head.

"Nothing. It's just... I saw this poem," he told her. "And it wasn't exactly uplifting."

"Oh," she replied, fixing her gaze back onto Harry's back. But somehow, Ron was drawn to the piece of work. There was something about it that was bittersweet. And maybe even truthful, he thought, quickly lifting his gaze to Hermione and then back down. She faintly noticed and moved her head a bit in his direction. And then to Harry again, Ron noticed.

He really didn't know why it bothered him so much that she had a crush on Harry. Or Krum, for that matter. He really didn't know why he did the things he did around her, now. Things were different, in some way. They had been, now that he thought about it, since she spent the summer at his house before the year began. Of course, she'd only came because Harry was there.

But it was always nice to wake up and hear her singing sweet love songs like Wild angels and December [a/n- GREAT song if you've never heard it], and he would act as if she was actually there for him and not for his friend.

But then the truth would smack him in the face as she walk down the stairs and sit next to the boy who lived. She wasn't there for him. Hermione brought him back to reality when she called his name.

"Ron," she said.

"Hu?" he asked, sounding, he thought, a bit like Goyle when asked to answer a question in Transfiguration class.

"I'm going to stop by Amara's potion shop. Meet me at the three broomsticks with Harry?" she asked.

"Sure." Hermione smiled and turned the corner, running into the shop next to her with a small tinkle from the bells.

* * *

Amara's was large and brilliantly stocked with colorful glass bottles along the walls and on small shelves in random places on the floor. Not even trying to find the potion by herself, she went up to the front desk and asked a girl with bright green hair for help.

"Excuse me, can you help me find a Nonlassus Potion, please? I need to be able to stay up late to study," she asked. The woman smiled, stepped back from the desk, and guided her expertly to a shelf along the left side. She picked up a small blue bottle and handed it to Hermione.

"We have three choices for a wakefulness potion," she said, gesturing to a few other glasses. "Take your pick." She walked back to the desk, leaving Hermione to study the different potions. She decided on the one to the far right in a bright yellow bottle.

Just as she was about to walk over and pay, she noticed a brilliantly red and white bottle that was sitting next to the yellow one. She picked it up carefully, looking on the bottom.

Bellus's love potion. Attract the one you love in seconds! She cursed herself for the thought.

But then Harry slowly crossed her mind, and she saw a picture of them kissing in the hallway. Or kissing anywhere, for that matter.

It wouldn't really work, she thought to herself. Love potions aren't real. Still, it would be fun... disgraced at herself, she swiped off both the potions from the shelf and went to the counter to pay. She probably wouldn't even use it.

* * *

Hermione swiftly plopped herself next to Harry in the revolving chair at the bar of Three Broom Sticks haphazardly.

"Hey, Hermione," he said. "Did you find what you wanted?" she went bright pink.

"Of course I did," she said briskly, moving the bag in her hands far behind her back and out of sight from Ron and Harry.

"Lemme see," he said.

"NO!" she yelled louder than she meant to. This grabbed Harry's attention. He looked at her a moment.

"Is something wrong, Hermione?" he asked slowly.

"Why would there be anything wrong," she asked. "Nothing's wrong. I'm completely fine!" she ranted. Ron backed away a bit.

"Er... Okay, Hermione, whatever you say," he said.

"I think I'm going to go back to the castle," she squeaked. "I'll take the train." She jumped out of her chair like a cockroach was underneath her and bolted out the door, her hair flapping behind her.

* * *

Though I think her subjects could
Run far and wide.
She has centered on the topic
Of the sky.

-collective soul- when the water falls