When Hermione stepped in front of the Mirror of Erised, her breath caught.

She had expected something practical—maybe herself as Minister for Magic or discovering a revolutionary charm. But instead… there you were. The two of you, in a cozy home lined with books and magical plants. A child ran through the garden, laughing. You stepped outside, wrapped your arms around her, kissed her cheek. Married. Peaceful. Happy.

Ron peeked over her shoulder.

—"Well? What do you see?" Hermione blinked, trying to collect herself.

—"Minister for Magic. And a huge library."

—"Figures," Ron muttered. Harry chuckled. He didn’t press further.

Days passed. Then one afternoon, as Hermione walked through the main corridor, she saw you. You were heading her way, that familiar soft smile on your face. You waved casually, and she offered a nervous half-smile in return, heart pounding in a way she could no longer ignore.