It seems that they are friends now. Ron's cruel words echo in her head and sit there. Though he hasn't apologized Hermione can't say she expected him too (petulant child he is). Much to her own surprise she finds herself getting closer to Harry, who's sweet but strict disposition reminds her of John. Her second youngest brother had always thought he was responsible for everything, acting so much older than his age.

Sometimes she looks at Harry and sees a familiar weariness in his eyes. John had in his. It makes her wonder if he followed her into this life, and if Neville and all the nostalgia he dredges up with his clumsiness isn't coincidence but Michael also following after them. The thought makes her sad, and she finds herself hoping in equal measures that it is and isn't true.

They are friends now though (maybe if she says it enough, she can convince herself it's the truth), the three of them. Friends share things and try to bond. So she lets them take her flying. And she hates it. The broom weights her down like unhappy thoughts and she yearns to let go of It and simply float. She hates it and she hates herself, and she hates this farce of flying. She quickly 'flies' to the ground and dismounts off the broom before smoothing her robes down. Harry and Ron race up to her their faces eager.

"What did you think, Hermione?" Harry asks her. She angles her face down so her face is covered by her hair before answering.

"I didn't like it much. I think I'm going to go. Quidditch just isn't for me." She muttered with a smile, sure to keep her head ducked down so they wouldn't see her angry tears. She spends the next few days looking up even more spells to fly and tells them that she's studying for O.W.L's when they ask.

Harry tells her and Ron one day about a mirror. He says that it showed him his parents, and when she asks to see it he waits until dark. He fetches his invisibility cloak (at her incredulous stare he mutters something about Christmas) and they go. He has Ron step in front of it, and while Ron is babbling about being Prefect ( an admorable dream, one she might share) she stares at the writing atop formentioned mirror.

Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi

The words make no sense, but her cleverness isn't just for show, and she quickly figures it out.

I show not your face but your hearts desire

Hermione perks up, and has to resist the urge to bodily remove Ron from the mirror. Her hearts desire was pixie dust! Maybe the mirror could show it to her!

She noticed Ron move away and moved in front of the mirror, only to gasp. Her eyes widen, and she looks down at herself before looking back into the mirror. She reaches a trembling hand up to her face. She's herself again. She's Wendy. She takes her eyes off herself and sees Peter smiling behind her. His name on her lips she turned around. But only Ron and Harry stood there, looking confused. Turning back, she saw only him, alone and smiling sadly and pressing a hand against the pane of glass. She moved her hand up so it was parallel to his and felt tears trickle down her cheeks as she swore she could feel his heat.

"I miss you." She tells him, her words echoing off the empty walls. The boy in the mirror smiles.

"Wendy." He says, and she can't hear the words but oh, how she wishes she could. She could stand there for hours, looking at him.

Something pulls at her and drags her away, and she turns to see Harry and an anxious Ron.

"Filch is coming, come-on!" He whispered, before running. Taking one last longing look at the mirror, Hermione fled.

A/N: I am back, lovelies! Now please bear with me and think happy thoughts, and I promise I'll update with a longer chapter soon.

I speak, therefore I am,

Pain