It\'s All Done With Mirrors

A/N: Thank you ALL for your lovely reviews! I\'m a bit slow because I have to rest *sulks* but I will be continuing to update as regularly as possible! Shoutouts:
jeanette you killed me there - \"clueless and wandless\" oh I loved that!
mother, sirius star holder, gillnylover - SO Glad you are enjoying this fic
Tesa thank you for the review...rest assured all WILL be revealed ;-)
Lusty Muse....can we kill Ron yet??? Hm...we\'ll see. muahauaa
Mel - ever did that as a kid? I know I did - *armpit pricklingly embarrassing memory* just HAD to include it
pixi - he\'s a dream, isn\'t he? I\'ll hold on to him for dear life!
Topaz - WOW. Now THAT\'s a tribute. Bless you!!! And kiss the twins from me :-)

Chapter Thirty
Drop Dead Gorgeous


Opportunity Squibs Office, Knockturn Alley, August 2010


“You really ought to be going, Ronnie.”

Ron nodded, still gazing into Pansy’s pale, glowing eyes.

“Then get going, gorgeous!” The blonde Witch waved her hand irritably in front of Ron’s face, and he broke the eye contact, blinking and backing away slightly.

“Millie?” Pansy looked over towards Millicent, who was drumming on the table with her fingertips, looking bored. She looked up and sniffed.

“Pan?”

“Give Ronnie his little presents, if you wouldn’t mind.”

“Sure thing, Pansy darling. He seems to be a little bit…preoccupied at the moment though.” Millie tried to hide her amusement as Pansy whirled round and caught sight of Ron looking at himself in the mirror that hung on the wall.

“Time to stop posing, Weas – Ronnie, darling…”

Ron didn’t turn round. “Gorgeous, eh?” he growled. “With a face full of cuts and a bloody black eye…you’re kidding me if you think I’m going to get Hermy back looking like this!”

Oh for gods’ sakes…Pansy couldn’t believe it! “Get over here. Now.” Gone was the soothing tone, and out came the bansidh-like wails. Millicent coughed, to cover up her amusement. Way to go, Mrs. Malfoy!

“No way. untiuntil you help me out. I look like shit. It bloody hurts, too,” Ron groaned, rubbing his jaw.

Pansy squeezed her eyes closed, to stop the tears of frustration. Weasel was NOT going to bail…not when she was so close to triumph! She couldn’t allow that to happen. ‘I am going to so enjoy killing you later, Weasel-face,’ she thought sourly. With a supreme effort, she pasted a blithe smile onto her face, and sauntered over to him.

“You look fine,” she said, in as soothing a voice as she could manage.

“Bollocks. I look like I’ve done ten rounds with a Hippogriff.”

Why wasn’t this working? Pansy started to shake with rage.
A stifled choking sound came from the other side of the room. Pansy turned her head slowly towards her ‘friend’ and glowere her her.

“I must say, you’re a real help, Millie darling,” she spat.

“I try, Pan.” Millicent wasn’t even attempting to disguise her glee now.

“Fine. Just don’t expect me to pull you ou tha that poisonous lake of acid.”

“What poisonous lake of acid?”

“I’m sure I’ll find one somewhere, Mill,” Pansy sang, raising one eyebrow.

“Oh for Merlin’s sake! All right. Ron, you look lovely,” Millicent muttered, rolling her eyes.

“Do not.”

He was sulking! Gods be damned! Pansy wasn’t going to be able to take much more of this.

“Fix his bloody boo-boos, Mill.” Pansy snapped, clutching at her hair.

“How about the broken ribs, Pan?” Millicent asked, cheerfully. She was really…reeeeeally enjoying getting a rise out of Pansy.

“I. Don’t. Care…Just. Make. Him. Happy.”

“Righty-ho, Pansy darling!” Millicent, having got one over Pansy yet again that evening, swished her wand towards Ron Weasley, and trilled “Restoro Integritatis!” *

And Ronald Weasley was restored to his former glory. Such as it had been. If he’d given the beer a miss occasionally, not to mention the firewhiskey, he’d probably have looked quite handsome. But there was nothing you could do about a decade of systemic abuse. Not without a time-turner and a good talking-to.

Ron sighed. It would have to do. At least he didn’t feel like he was going to puncture a lung every time he moved. He shifted his cloak about on his shoulders until it appeared to be straight, completely oblivious to the other two in the office. That was an improvement. Next stop: Hermy! He grinned into the Mirror, which whispered “That’s much better, dearie!” and turned aroun fac face the two witches.
o seo seemed to be fighting over something, and paying him no attention at all.


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Headmistress’s Office, Hogwarts, August 2010


“Check.”

Albus looked up at Minerva, triumphantly. She tutted in irritation as the Wizard’s Knight took her White Bishop.

“Queen to E5,” she said, dourly, chi chin supported in her hands.

“An excellent move, Minerva, if I may say so,” Albus clapped his hands like a child as he could plainly see his next move.

“Queen’s Bishop to E5…Minerva, you should really have seen that coming,” he chortled.

“Occasionally, Albus, one has to make sacrifices.” she lilted, as the Black Bishop slid across the board, diagonally. “Goodbye, dear,” she said to her White Queen, tenderly, as it was pulverised before their eyes. “Oh, Queen’s Knight to D3,” Minerva continued, as if it didn’t matter a jot.

Albus sucked in his breath, noisily.

“Checkmate, Albus.”

The old Wizard watched, gloomily, as his King was decapitated. “So, you’ve beaten me again, Minerva McGonnagall. You keep telling me you can’t play this damned game!”

“I’m a quick study, Albus Dumbledore.” He could have sworn she winked.

“Ah well, at least it passes the time. Minerva,” he called to Professor McGonnagall as she stood with her back to him, facing the fireplace. “What are you doing?”

“I’m just checking on Hermione, Albus. She should be fast asl – oh! Oh my goodness…well, I – I wish *I* could – Celestial Heavens!”

Minerva rapidly unscrewed the scrying mirror from her wand, and sat back down at the table in front of Albus, her cheeks flaming.

“Whatever is it, my dear? You look…flushed…” Albus prompted her, a worried look on his wrinkled face.

The Headmistress of Hogwarts pulled herself together. “I’m sure there are many ways one can think of to pass the time…a great many things. Ferreverto!” ** Immediately, Minerva’s pet raven, Belladonna, was transfigured into a pewter goblet which she filled magically with iced water, and pressed against her fervid forehead.

Albus shook his head in confusion. He would never understand a Witch’s mind…not if he lived another one hundred and fifty years.

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Opportunity Squibs Office, Knockturn Alley, August 2010


Ron stared, watching the scene with a look of total incredulity on his slack features.

“Give it to me! Give it to me NOW!” Pansy was on top of Millicent, bending her over the table backwards, her fist clamped around Millie’s right arm.

“Fuck…off…Pansy…you…tart!” With her lower centre of gravity an advantage, Millicent slowly shoved herself upright, holding tightly onto her right sleeve with her left hand.

Pansy screamed in agitation. “Either you give it to me this instant, or I will scratch your face…right…off! OW! You fat fucking cow!” She squealed in pain, staggering backwards, hurtling into poor Ron and sending him flying.

“Erm…ladies?” Ron stammered, from the floor, struggling for breath under the weight of Pansy who lay sprawled on top of him.

Pansy hauled herself to her feet, digging a sharp elbow into Ron’s chest. He howled.

“Oh, pull yourself together – at least your ribs aren\'t still broken,” Pansy said sarcastically. She turned to Millicent…

Who was pointing her wand straight at the blonde Witch’s ample chest. Pansy Malfoy went very pale. Millicent smirked and lowered her wand once again.

“Right. Well. Just a small disagreement, Ronnie dear. All sorted now, nothing to worry about,” Pansy said in a small voice.

“Er, well. OK. Shall we, um…?”

“Indeed we shall, Ronnie. Now, listen carefully. On the table you will find a Portkey. You will also find a small case contng ang a few phials of Polyjuice Potion, made by my own fair hands…with a little help from darling Millie, that is. The case also contains several tufts of hair from a young man at Hogwarts. Name of Nathan Bulstrode. Apprentice caretaker. You follow me?”

“Um. Yeah. Right…I Portkey to Hogwarts, take the Polyjuice potion, look around for my wife. Sounds all right to me,” Ron muttered. Then he looked up at Pansy, who had backed carefully away from Millicent’s wand. “But, what do I do if…well, what about the *real* Nathan Bulstrode?”

Pansy looked bored. “Oh, just kill him, Ronnie darling,” she soothed, handing him a vicious-looking steel-bladed knife.

Ron gulped.

“Don’t be a silly-billy, Ronnie darling,” Pansy rolled her eyes. “Do you or do you not wish to rescue your Dearest Love from the clutches of the Evil Potions Master?”

“Of course I do, Pansy, but – “

“No buts! It’ll be a lot easier than going after Snape, at any rate. Put that knife away, sweetheart, you’re going to cause an accident. Honestly,” Pansy smoothed her blonde tresses, going over to the table. “Anyone would think you were ungrateful!” She sniffed. “I don’t think much of people who are ungrateful, Ronnie dearest…”

He took the hint, and joined Pansy and Millicent at the table. He picked up the case, full of phials of Polyjuice Potion and tufts of hair originating from the apprentice Caretaker. ‘At least I don’t have to pretend to be Filch,’ he thought. ‘Just imagine the smell…ugh.’ He tucked the knife into the belt of his trousers. Then he reached for the small, plastic muggle key ring of the Eiffel tower. Millicent’s left hand closed over his, and he looked up.

Millicent looked truly awful, her plump cheeks blotched and her nostrils flared. “You need the password for the Portkey. Can’t get into Hogwarts without it. The password is Chapeau. You have to say it quickly, or you’ll end up in about a million irretrievable pieces. Have a good trip,” she finished, with her emphasis on the word “good”.

Pansy didn’t let anyone get the last word. Ever. “Don’t fuck it up, Weasley – I mean, Ronnie.”

Ron’s hand closed over the Portkey and they heard him whisper “Chapeau”. Then he was gone.

Pansy met Millicent’s stare. She smirked. Millicent’s face was a study in fury.

“And just what the fuck was all that about, Pansy Parkinson Malfoy?” She stormed over to the fireplace, and sat deliberately in her own armchair. “Why by the Blazes of Hades did you try to mug me for my wand?”

“You just seemed to be having second thoughts…not getting all weepy about your banished little Squibby sibling are you?” Pansy taunted.

Millicent glared at Pansy, her nostrils flaring. “Do me a favour! I come from a long line of Slytherins, who can probably be traced right back to Salazar himself! We do not have consciences,” she snapped frostily.

Pansy shrugged. “Whatever you say, darling Millie,” and she feigned a yawn.

There was nothing for them to do except wait for Ron to return. Millicent tucked her wand further up her sleeve, and stared moodily into the embers of the dying fire.

Actually, there had also been a lot of Hufflepuff in Millicent’s lineage. And a fair bit of Gryffindor…but no one spoke of that. It was not considered polite conversation in the Bulstrode family.


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Gryffindor Boys’ Dormitory, Hogwarts, August 2010


(The man was coming.

He was coming for Miss Granger. Robin stood there, screaming at everyone, but nobody heard him.

The man was nearer.

Nearer.

Nearer still.)

Robin sat bolt upright, still dreaming, sweat pouring from his body.

(Soon it would be too late.

He saw a flash of steel, and heard a scream!

The man’s hood flew backwards.

His hair was red. No, light brown.

No.

It was definitely red.)


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* Restoro Integritatis (Literally, “restore good health” (Latin)
** Ferreverto – the transfiguration spell used by McGonnagall in CoS

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