It\'s All Done With Mirrors

A/N: I\'m back! And I\'m feeling pretty good! Thank you all for your good wishes and get well soons! Bless you Grant, my honey, for managing to log in with my vague instructions...
LittleBird, star, Zephyr, amanda, mel, ching li, DiamondDove, Aiobheann and TheCharmedOne - millions of thanks for your lovely reviews, which were simply marvellous to come back to! Love, Kait (LovesThePotionBoy) xxxx


Chapter Twenty Seven
Cry Me A River


Gryffindor Common Room, Hogwarts, August 2010


.”…I think by that time I must have been completely crazed with fear. Thinking about it now, I cannot believe I really left my own baby with a muggle woman in Wiltshire, however nice she was. It wasn’t the behaviour of a sane person. Somehow I had managed to convince myself that I was poison…the dreams I’d been having had only compounded that.”

I waved my wand at the coffeepot, to refill it, and Snape leaned forward, silently, to pour me another cupful.

“After I’d left, I roamed the muggle world for another year…getting bar jobs, waitressing jobs…anything, so long as it fed me, and so long as it was cash in hand. I didn’t want anyone to find me. I slept rough, along with the rest of the homeless people – even joined a traveller’s convoy for a month or two, they were horse-drawn wagon dwellers, and their simple life appealed to me. But there was some kind of upset, eventually, and I had to move on.
“By this time, I’d made it to St Austell, in Cornwall. They’d got this exhibition on…something called the Eden Project, where they were creating environments suitable for growing things indoors, under gigantic glass domes. It reminded me of Professor Sprout’s greenhouses, actually. Anyway, that’s where I was spotted by the first magical person I’d seen in ages…Neville Longbottom.”

I sipped my coffee, which helped to lubricate my dry throat.

“I must have looked a sorry sight. I hadn\'t bathed for…gods knew how long…and the clothes I was wearing were little more than dirty rags. I couldn’t afford to get into the exhibition, so I’d – Merlin, I can’t believe I’m telling you this bit – I decided to busk.”

A slight movement from Snape, and I turned to look at him. He obvio did did not have the slightest idea what I meant by “to busk” but, in accordance with my wishes, he wasn’t about to interrupt.

“A Busker is what you call someone who stands around singing or playing music, in the hope that people will give them money for it. I’d done it loads of times, when I’d been short of money. I’d always been a fan of jazz music – that’s a type of muggle music from America – “ and here Snape nodded, to my surprise. “Anyway, I was standing there, my woolly hat on the ground for people to put money in, and suddenly I was aware of someone standing right in front of me…”


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The Eden Project, Bodelva, Cornwall, April 2000


“Now you say you’re sorry
You cry the whole night through
Well you can cry me a river
Cry me a river
I cried a river over you.”

Neville Longbottom paused; listening to the melodious voice as it sang the plaintive song. It was…haunting. A few people behind him in the queue started grumbling “Come on…move up, mate” and he realised that he was holding up the line.

He started to move along, but then curiosity caused him to look around for the source of the mysterious voice.

And his eyes bulged as he saw the untameable hair, the soulful brown eyes of someone he’d – and in fact everybody had – thought had simply vanished from the face of the earth.

“Hermione…” he murmured.

Neville lost no time. He left the line of people waiting to be let into the geodesic domes, and walked quietly over to her.

“Now you say you’re sorry
For being so untrue
Well go on – cry me a river
Cry me a river…”

She stopped singing. Her brown eyes widened in surprise.


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Gryffindor Common Room, Hogwarts, August 2010


“Neville practically marched me off to his car, drove to a pub called Jamaica Inn, which was full of tourists – Daphne du Maurier’s novel…quite famous in Muggle literature – and he bought me some sandwiches. I was so hungry I didn’t even speak until they’d all been eaten. Then I just cried.”

I could barely describe the combined relief, fear and frustration that I’d felt at that moment. I stared into the flames of the fire, feeling tears prick at the corners of my eyes. I finished my coffee, for lack of anything else to do at that moment, and put the cup down on the hearth, before settling myself back into the comfortable brown velvet couch.

Then Snape’s cool, elegant hand closed over mine, and my tears began to fall in earnest.

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Jamaica Inn, Bodmin, Cornwall, April 2000


“Where have you been, Hermione?”

She had not been called Hermione in nearly two years. She looked up at the honest, kind face of her fellow ex-Gryffindor and struggled to overcome her tearful sobbing.

“Oh, Neville…” she trailed off, unable to continue.

“We’ve been so worried about you! Couldn’t you have owled? Even to Harry? Gods, Hermione, no one’s had so much as a glimpse of you since the Graduation party! We looked everywhere…your parents are frantic…we even checked St Mungo’s!” Neville sounded near to tears himself.

“Please, Neville…please don’t ask. I just needed to be…alone.”

It wasn’t the whole truth…but there was nothing she could say to him.

“I’ve got to go – “ Hermione got up from her seat, but Neville caught her by the arm, and he was stronger than she was.

“Wait. Let me help yo kno know you probably want me to just disapparate, so I won’t linger…but first, please let me give you some money.” Neville pulled a bunch of twenty-pound notes from his wallet, and handed them to her.

She took them, wordlessly, eyes still shining with tears. Struggling with her pride, she sat there, blinking at him until she could control her emotions once again.

“Neville…please don’t tell anyone you’ve seen me. Really, Neville, I mean it.” She reached out and touched his round face. He nodded, reluctantly.

“Thank you. I – I think I might come back…but I don’t want a welcoming committee. I’d have to sort myself out a bit…don’t want anyone to see me like this. I’d really appreciate it, Neville, if you could refrain from mentioning you’ve seen me today.”

Neville Longbottom was near to tears himself. “Can I drive you anywhere?”


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Gryffindor Common Room, Hogwarts, August 2010


By the time I’d finished crying, I was gripping Snape’s hand so hard it must have been hurting him quite badly. Wiping my tears on the sleeve of my gown, I took a shuddering breath, and carried on.

“I left Cornwall that day and travelled to London on thein. in. I managed as far as Diagon Alley, hoping to get my wand…but the goblins at Gringotts wouldn’t believe it was me. So I got help from the Weasleys – Ron authenticated my identity – and ended up staying there.
“I saw my parents again, they’d gone out of their minds, worrying, and they wanted me to go back home, but I felt so stifled there…I returned to the Burrow, and before I knew it I was married to Ron.”

It all poured out of me then – the Trial, the first time Ron had cheated on me, the day he’d tried to steal my wand, the day he’d assaulted and raped me…all the time holding onto Snape’s hand as if it was a lifeline.

Then I got to the part in my tale that was going to be hard to recount. I turned sideways, curling my legs up on the couch, facing him for the first time since I had begun to tell my tale. I let go of his hand, and at once I felt exhausted.

“I’m going to have to stop for a bit, Professor Snape. My throat is killing me.”

“Severus,” he merely said.

“Severus,” I whispered, and he pulled me into his arms, whispering my name over and over as he buried his face in my hair.


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Opportunity Squibs Office, Knockturn Alley, August 2010


Millicent Bulstrode cracked the seal on the roll of parchment, and read it aloud:


“Dear Madame Bee,

Thank you all at Opportunity Squibs for this amazingly kind offer!

The password you require to charm upon the Portkey is:

Chapeau

I look forward with eager anticipation for the gift you promised, which will make such a huge difference to my life.

Many, many thanks,

Nathan Bulstrode”


“Ah, but how darling!” Pansy gushed. “However,” she continued, her smile contorting into a vicious sneer, “Promises are made to be broken.”


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Gryffindor Common Room, Hogwarts, August 2010


It felt so…wondrous…to be in his arms again. We clutched at each other, not kissing, not caressing, but simply holding on to one another as if we feared we would be ripped apart.

After a time, he loosened his grip on me, and pulled back to gaze into my face.

“May I speak?”

I nodded, unable to do so myself. Severus looked down, trying to find the words.

“I am not sure how to begin to apologise to you. First of all, for not being there on that day when you needed me…”

He looked directly at me, his dark eyes revealing such pain I nearly gasped.

“The owl you sent me was intercepted, and I did not receive it until it was too late. I found it on Ron Weasley’s person, after I had recovered from his attempt to attack me in the dungeons. No – don’t say anything,” he murmured, placing two long fingers over my lips as I attempted to speak.

“The battle caused a lot of damage, and half the wall came down upon me. By the time I had managed to get out, you had already gone. I was so wretched with grief, I didn’t even have the energy to punish Weasley, as I should have done then and there…if I had, things might have been very different. The responsibility for the damage that has been caused in this affair is not yours alone, please understand that. Do you hear me? It’s not your fault!”

I nodded my head, and waited for Severus to continue.

“Hermione – if I had known you were carrying my child, nothing could have stopped me from being with you. Not my position at Hogwarts, not Ron sodding Weasley…or Albus, or even the Minister of Magic! I was so horrified that you had managed to slip away like that. I tried to locate you, but your wand was in Gringotts, and you weren’t. I didn’t make a show of it, but every time your name came up in a conversation near me, I would strain my ears in the hope of gleaning some news of where you were, what you were doing. For two years I never gave up…casting locating charms, in the vain hope that you would come back for your wand. And then one day, you did.”

His face suddenly reddened as he continued, in a self-mocking tone. “I went over to Weasley’s house, a bunch of roses in my arms, just to try to get some chance to speak with you – to plead with you to return to me. But when I arrived, your fiancé was just breaking the happy news to his parents.”

‘So that explained the profusion of petals I had seen under the kitchen window that day,’ I thought.

“If, by my actions in prosecuting your husband for attacking me, I have caused you further pain…then I am deeply sorry, Hermione. I was so angered that he had managed to entrap the woman I’d loved that, as soon as the opportunity for revenge arose, I took it. And I took it thoughtlessly, not even considering your feelings. By that time, I had – gods, Hermione! I’m so sorry…”

There was a long pause, as we both picked cautiously over the wreckage of our past.

“Do you think…would it be too late…I mean, is it completely out of the question…?” I was beyond making a coherent sentence.

Severus’ eyes were full of sorrow as he solemnly answered. “I don’t know, Hermione…”

I gulped. Perhaps he was righterhaerhaps it really was too late for us. Too exhausted even to shed a tear, I looked away, humiliation and misery flooding my heart. Of course he didn’t want me anymore! I had run from him, lied to him, married someone else – of course it was too damn late!

A dry sob escaped my lips. That was that, then.

“…But I’m willing to try. You see, I still love you, Hermione.”