Mirror, Mirror

Mirror, Mirror

Chapter 18 - I Never Promised You a Rose Garden

It all belongs to Rowling, except what you don’t recognize.

“Well, at first we thought that he’d been kissed by a Dementor.” Dr. Tyranius Falco walked briskly down the corridors of St. Mungo’s with a sniffing, and occasionally hiccupping, Lady Snape. He stopped abruptly and Hermione nearly collided with him. “Are you sure you are up to this, Madam?”

She nodded.

“Well, we could maybe put sunglasses on him. He might not look quite so empty that way.” Hermione started to weep anew. “There, what did I tell you? I think we better take a moment to sit in my office and let you get yourself together.”

He walked another two paces and opened his office door. Hermione stared at the room. She’d seen odd Wizarding offices before, but this one was so ornate, it would have put a Victorian brothel to shame.

“Ah, you like the decor? My niece Caitlin-Elizabeth took care of it.” He sat on an overstuffed green and red striped velvet chair. “She’s studying to be an interior designer you know.”

Hermione took a seat on a magenta satin chaise lounge.

“Dr. Falco, I just want to see my husband.”

“But does he want to see you? In this condition?” He shook his head. “I should think not! A whining, hysterical female is bound to send him further out to wherever he is going. Mark my words, carefully now.”

Hermione waited. Dr. Falco started humming. He was giving a rather interesting imitation of a humming bird or rather it would have been interesting if Hermione hadn’t been ready to jump out of her skin.

“Would you please stop that!” Hermione asked.

“Lady Snape.” Said Falco standing up and beginning to pace. “As I said before, at first we thought perhaps he’d been snogging one of them Dementors, but then we brought in Albie Dumbledore—“

“That’s Albus Dumbledore.”

“What?”

“Albus, not Albie…”

“Well, he doesn’t seem to mind having a nickname, in fact it makes him rather happy. Now, if you will stop interrupting. Albie” Falco stopped and glared at Hermione, waiting for her to contradict him, when she didn’t he smiled and continued, “is our top Legilimens man.”

“And Headmaster of Hogwarts.”

“Well, yes, I’d heard he did something like that in his spare time, will you please allow me to continue?”

Hermione was feeling less and less weepy and more irate by the second. She gave a curt nod.

“And it became apparent that Dr. Snape had removed himself from his own body on purpose.”

“Oh, dear.”

“Oh dear, indeed, good Lady. What Albie learned was that Snape had discovered that you and your daughter were in eminent danger if he did not give the appearance of being permanently damaged. So the doctor gave them what they wanted.”

“But you must be able to do something?”

“My good woman. Of course we will do something. I’ll have you know that I am the foremost Wizarding expert on Muggle psychiatric techniques in existence. I know of electroshock therapy, insulin shock therapy, Thorazine, Risperdol, Depot, and the list goes on and on. And we in the Wizarding World have them all beat.

“Tonight, we shall apply the leeches and tomorrow he will be ready to go home.”

Hermione sat up a little straighter. “Just like that he will be cured?”

“Cure? Oh no, no, no. None of this is about cures. I said he’d be ready to go home. Everything that I’ve listed is all about teaching the patient that they are in a very, very bad place and to invoke the awareness that they need to pull up their socks and get out. Nothing to do with cures, much more about self-preservation. Believe you me, after a few dozen well applied leeches, he will leave here and never look back.”

“But Dr. Falco, you said he was, was…”

“The word is catatonic, and most definitely self-induced. It’s very important that he has a taste of how bad it is here, so he most certainly will want to go home and get well.”

“But he will get well?” Hermione asked hopefully.

“If he lives long enough, I should imagine so.” Falco crossed his arms and sucked on a corner of his mustache.

Hermione didn’t like the sound of that very much, but realized that the more questions she asked, the worse things seemed to get.

“May I see him now?”

“Yes, you have pulled yourself together, I see. Very good, he wouldn’t want to go home with a Nervous Nelly now, would he?”


&&&


It had been a very long day for Prof. Snape and Miss Granger. They had spent a grueling nearly six hours of escorting the Silver Heather realm Harry Potter around their world. First Harry wanted to go through all his files, just in case the other Potter was ahead of things in a few cases that they shared. And he took notes, even though he admitted he wouldn’t be able to take them with him.

Then he wanted to visit gravesites, most specifically Lavender Brown’s and Sirius Black’s. Snape felt it was rather morbid, but had to admire Potter’s determination to honor those who had been lost. He then wanted to read a history of the Final Battle with Voldemort to see how it went without Black and why Lavender died. By that time, even Hermione was finding the man a bit obsessive. Finally he asked to go and see Remus Lupin. His eyes filled with tears as he hugged the frail invalid. He took a few minutes to reassure Remus that Remus’ counterpart was having a wonderful time and had just returned from a honeymoon with his new bride. Remus lay back on the bed and listened to the account with a smile and tears of joy trickling down his face. Potter then swore that they’d get Remus the cure in time. Hermione shot Snape a look of pure contempt.

They had all sat down for tea in the living room when a bald headed man with bushy eyebrows stuck his head through the fire and asked for Harry Potter.

“Yes, well hello Dolph, didn’t see you earlier at the Ministry.”

“Sorry, was my day off. But we are having a problem and they couldn’t find you earlier, so I got called in.”

“Well, my apologies.”

“Accepted, and I’ll be taking another day off next week to make up.” He waggled his thick eyebrows to emphasis that next time he would not be dragged in.

“Yes, of course, of course. So what is all the ruckus?”

“It seems that the Minister of Magic from the ‘Silver Heather realm’ is being held captive in St. Mungo’s and we are on the verge of a Diplomatic Incident.” A tiny smile played around his mouth.

“The Hell you say.”

“Yes, Fudge is heading over there right now to try to fix things, but I thought I should let you know.”

“Cornelius Fudge? When did they release that maniac from Azkaban?” asked Harry.

Dolph rolled his eyes. “That’s whot I get for being somewhere an owl could find me. Don’t ask, just get over here.”

“Well, don’t get your knickers in a twist. I’ll head straight over to St. Mungo’s and meet you there.”

Dolph’s head disappeared.

“I was hoping to have some time to organize my notes to my counterpart, but I’ll just have to leave them in his pocket.” He picked up a fistful of floo powder, “Thank you for your kind hospitality, and welcome to the Federation of Transconveyance Realms. I’m sure we’ll hear more from you when things settle down a bit.”

And with that Harry Potter left.

Silver Heather realm Harry, with all his questions and demands, had kept Hermione and Snape admirably busy and had allowed them to avoid what needed to be said. Snape decided to take the lead.

“I suppose you are still upset with me,” he said in silken tones, hiding the fear.

“Actually, I think I’m more upset with myself.” She sat down on the couch and stared into the fire.

Snape stood there watching her. If he were to be entirely truthful with himself, he’d have to admit he was a bit relieved that it was over. Being with her, being in love with her was too emotional, too scary. He felt that he hadn’t had a chance to accept or process all the changes, which had occurred in his life since he’d been captured three weeks back. Having a relationship with a woman, and such a volatile one at that, was simply too much, too soon.

He walked out of the cottage without saying goodbye and headed for the lab. He went over the notes one more time and there, there was the answer staring him in the face. He wrote it down and placed it with the other notes. He had solved the puzzle on his own after all. He and Hermione had been looking at it all the wrong way; truly it had only required just a paradigm shift in thinking. Snape laughed bitterly and finished making the potion. He then wrote down what he assumed had to be the final part of the incantation. He left the potion and spell clearly displayed for Hermione. Finding the house elf, he requested that she pack his stuff and send it to the Leaky Cauldron. He left the cottage unsure of what his next step would be, but fairly confident that it would not include werewolves, house elves or annoying know-it-alls.

Hermione looked up and realized with a sinking heart that he was no longer standing over her. She felt ill. She wanted him but, well, he was impossible. Their relationship was impossible, in fact, what relationship? They had none. Rather than cry, she headed upstairs to see how Remus was holding up after all the excitement of the visit. She found him sleeping and upon doing a diagnostic, realized he might not even live out the next day.

She went downstairs to discover Harry sitting on the couch.

“Which Harry are you?” she said, checking the time.

“The right one, and I have memorized the end of the cure.”

Hermione squealed and ran into her friend’s arms. “Oh, let’s go quickly then.” And she threw on her cloak to head to the lab.

Harry found the parchment with Snape’s handwriting on it. “Damn.”

“What is it, Harry?” He held it up for her to see.

“Well,” she said studying it. “Now, I understand. We were looking at it all wrong.”

“He did get it after all. This is what I memorized.”

Hermione saw the jar and opened it. “Then this is it.” The jar had Snape’s handwriting, that day’s date, and it was marked the Lycanthrope Formula. Without a word, Hermione and Harry headed up to Remus along with the written out spell. Along the way, Hermione looked into Snape’s room. It was empty. Hermione had known it would be.

“Is that it?” whispered Remus.

“Yes, you can take it now, you don’t have to wait for the full moon, just as long as it is past the dark of the moon,” replied Hermione.

“And where is Severus? Shouldn’t he be here for this?”

“No. He’s left now that the cure is completed,” she said.

“That’s a bit odd, even for Snape, isn’t it? To not want to see the results?” Remus slowly gasped out.

“We’ve already seen the results,” said Harry gently. “There should be no problem, old friend.” He clasped his hand on Remus’ shoulder.

Together Harry and Hermione performed the incantation, chanting the words to lift the curse while Remus, with trembling hands, sipped at the potion. Soon his hands were shaking so violently that Hermione had to hold the jar for him.

“Hermiostanstand back! He’s undergoing transformation!” warned Harry.

The Wizard and Witch called up a protective bubble around Remus. Soon he was screaming and tearing at his clothes. White spittle was foaming his mouth and then they hear the sickening fracturing onesones as they lengthened and then splintered, realigning into something which was neither man nor wolf. The process could have taken no more than five minutes-- it was that lightening fast. Hermione was grateful because she didn’t think she could have withstood another moment of his agonizing screams and then mournful animal howls. Finally, there was silence.

“Hermione, did we kill him?” asked Harry, scared to even think of the implications of his so sudden stillness.

“If we did, it was a release. By the Gods, to think he’d gone through that regularly almost all his life,” she whispered.

“Should we check for a pulse?” He was prepared to break the spell protecting them when there was a suddenly movement from the werewolf. “Merciful Merlin, what is it?”

They watched as the solid image of the werewolf began to shimmer and become transparent. It lightened and faded until another image, equally faint was revealed underneath it. They saw the Wizard who was Remus Lupin appear under and through the shadow of the werewolf. Slowly the second image of the man became less faint and more solid. The werewolf became nothing more than an aura surrounding Remus and then, there was Remus alone.

“Is he breathing?” Hermione asked more to herself than to Harry, as she finally dropped the protective spell. She sat on the chair next to him. “He’s not. Harry-- he’s not breathing.” Hermione for all her medical training went blank from the sudden terror of knowing that Remus was dead. She forced herself to relax and to stop thinking like a friend and become a professional. She used a power charm to force air into his lungs and then out again.

He began to cough. His eyes fluttered open. Hermione immediately noticed that his eye color had changed from a light blue to dark blue with flecks of green. His grey hair was gone, replaced with the light brown color that he had originally had when she had first met him over a decade ago. There was much more hair on his chest and it was a dark brown and quite thick and curly. He looked up at both Harry and Hermione in shock and gratitude.

“That’s it then?” He sat up keeping the sheet over his nakedness. “I feel… wonderful! Oh, by Merlin’s staff.” He started to laugh and cry as Harry hugged him. After a few seconds, he pulled away from Harry. “I need clothes. I have got to get out of bed. No more lying around—I have my life back! There are no words--” he said turning to Hermione. He took her hand and kissed it before pressing it against his cheek.

“Don’t worry, Remus. I’ll go right now and fetch some of my robes for you.” Harry was grinning like the cat that had the cream. “It’s a miracle. Hermione, what you and Snape have done.”

Hermione wasn’t looking as happy. She knew that Severus should have by rights been there. He’d earned the privilege even if he hadn’t been the creator of the potion. But she also knew the man disliked, or perhaps even despised, both Harry and Remus. It just wasn’t fair. She regretted him leaving, and she wished she could have taken back a few of the things she had said to him, but it couldn’t be done because, after all, she was right. He should have returned to the Silver Heather realm immediately for the rest of the cure. He should never have taken chances with Remus’ life like that. Tears began to cascade down her face.

“Hermione, don’t cry, love” Remus was looking at her with adoration.

“They are just tears of joy,” she lied. It was the first of many lies she’d be telling herself and others over the next few weeks.

A/N: Big, big hugs and special thanks to my reviewers: DeblovesDragon, Nesscafe, Nocturnus, Glinda, Crudedly, Katta, Deb, Jen, LittleBird and NegativeNine.

Also, please, please go to http://www.deviantart.com/view/5186234/ and check out the wonderful illustration that Negative Nine did for this story. To leave a comment of the pic, you need to sign up, but it’s free, so please do go admire this wonderful artwork and review!