Erised

Erised

It was Neville who insisted on it.

"I live here," he'd said stubbornly, sticking out his chin in the way that Hermione recognized from their first year as students, "and they'll be fine. The house-elves can help feed them, and anything's better than St. Mungo's."

In the end, even the Healers had agreed that moving the Longbottoms to Hogwarts would not hurt. So Neville and Hermione's professorial rooms were expanded to incorporate a small suite for his parents: bedroom, toilet, and sitting room. The elves were more than happy to take care of two humans who so obviously needed it.

The changes were slow, almost unnoticeable. But one day, when Neville came in for his daily chat to them, Alice had been sitting up on her bed, watching the door.

Neville was in transports of delight at it. "I swear, she almost looked lucid!" he enthused through a mouthful of potatoes that night at dinner. "Her eyes -- they weren't clouded over, they were clear, but only for a second. And she opened her mouth to say something, and then... then it went away." He put his forkful of potatoes down and looked at it without appetite.

They were, in fact, getting better, so much so that Alice quickly learned how to get out of their rooms.

Neville panicked the first time. "What if she's gotten onto the grounds?" he wibbled, wringing his hands. "What if... the Whomping Willow? Oh, Hermione, I'd never forgive myself! What if... Fluffy?" This last came out in a strangled whisper, and he looked so stricken that Hermione promised to go find her, and didn't even remind him that Fluffy had been moved to the Forbidden Forest eleven years ago.

"No, you stay here," she said firmly. "In case she comes back." And she set off up the corridors.

Alice couldn't have wandered very far, and in any case, the students knew she was here, and would probably fetch a teacher if they found her. Then again, it was past curfew, so any students who were out would probably not fetch a teacher under any circumstances. Hermione grimaced.

She'd climbed through what felt like most of the castle before she found her, sitting on a desk in an abandoned classroom, staring into the most magnificent mirror Hermione had ever seen.

It was ornately framed with gilded gold, and the lettering across the top read, "Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi." Hermione looked hard at it, but couldn't work it out -- it wasn't any language she recognized. She moved her attention to her mother-in-law.

Alice was crying heavily. Not noisily, but heavily, great thick pearly tears rolling down her cheeks, dripping off her chin onto her sleep-rumpled robes.

What was she seeing that made her so sad? Hermione glanced in the mirror proper, back at Alice, and then had to look back at the mirror, where her own reflection had suddenly gained about twenty pounds round the middle and was smiling up at a proud-looking Neville.

Oh. That mirror. Harry had told her about it.

"Mum?" Hermione said gently, tearing her eyes away from the reflection with difficulty. "Mum, come back to bed." She tugged ineffectually at Alice's sleeve.

Alice did not move, did not speak, just stared at the mirror.

Neville was very angry.

"I had no choice!" Hermione said, manuevering the Stunned Alice back into her bed. "She would've stayed there all night if I hadn't!"

Neville slept on the couch, and Hermione came out to apologize to him sometime around five in the morning.

"I couldn't think of anything else to do," she said from the doorway. The lack of snuffling snores announced that he was awake. "I'm sorry," she mumbled.

"It's okay," came Neville's voice. He swung himself up off the couch and patted the spot beside him.

"I should have gotten you," she said, crossing the room, leaning back on the couch, and snuggling into the crook of his shoulder. "She wasn't going anywhere."

"It's okay," he said again, and rubbed her arm.

The next night Alice snuck out again.

"You don't think she's gone..." said Neville with a kind of resigned horror, when Hermione nervously told him that Frank was alone in the room.

Hermione nodded. "Your turn," she said, and set about unlocking the liquor cabinet.

When Neville came back, he was badly shaken and Alice was once again unconscious. "She wouldn't leave!" he said, pouring himself a brandy. "When I tried to pick her up, she pulled away from me."

"She doesn't always recognize you," Hermione said gently.

Neville tossed the brandy back and poured another one. "She'd been doing so well lately."

They both lay awake that night, Neville deep in thought, Hermione unable to stay asleep without his snores.

On the third night they went together, and that was when the miracle happened.

They entered the room to find Alice not sitting catatonic with tears streaking her cheeks, but wiping her eyes on her sleeve and sniffling.

Neville approached his mum whilst Hermione hung back; this should be his moment alone.

"Mum?" he said tentatively, and placed a hand on her arm.

Alice looked up slowly. Her eyes searched Neville's face, which was trying hard not to show too much hope. Alice looked back at the mirror, and Neville's face sagged.

But she looked back at Neville after just a moment, as though she had merely been checking something.

"You've grown," she whispered.

~fin~