It\'s All Done With Mirrors

A/N: Happy New Year, guys - see you in 2004! Maaaany thanks for the reviews - I live for them!!! Kait xxxx

Chapter Thirty One
Arrival


Greenhouse Three, Hogwarts, August 2010


Ron arrived inside the steaming, stagnant environment of Greenhouse Three. He clutched his stomach, peregrination sickness enhanced by the smell of Dragon-dung fertiliser, Bubotubers and Mandrake plants. He had to get out of there, he realised, before he hurled firewhiskey-laced vomit all over the place. Professor Sprout would not be pleased, but that was a minor issue. The main point was that it would rather give the game away.

‘Where to next, though?’ Ron thought. He looked at the lights…and quickly located a nearby dark patch. That looked likely. He crept out of the nursery, mindful not to wake anything sentient, and made his way in the velvet darkness towards the Hufflepuff entrance. He put his hand on the handle of the door, fully expecting to set of some screaming alarm.

But there was none. And the door swung open easily, which surprised him. That had been pretty easy! Not questioning it, he walked inside Hogwarts for the first time in about a dozen years.

There had been no lights on in Hufflepuff. Creeping about in the dark, keeping a watchful eye out for Filch…or worse, Mrs. Norris…Ron sidled up to the Portrait Hole. This would be the tricky bit, he decided.

He stood in front of it for no longer than a few seconds, before a rather stupid-looking…plant? animal? opened a pair of knotty-looking eyes, and whispered:

“Password.”


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Head Girl’s Room, Ravenclaw Tower, August 2010

Luna muttered in her sleep, waking Neville as he lay close beside her. He propped himself up on one elbow, saw her grimace, and shook her shoulder gently.

“Luna, love…”

“Something’s wrong…” she mumbled, deep in dreams.

Neville stroked her hair, unsure of what else to do. She moaned, in obvious distress, batting his hand away. “Something’s wrong…wrong…wrong…”

Neville cuddled up to his friend…and lover…and finally the nightmare abated, and she slid back into a dreamless state again.


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Outside The Hufflepuff Common Room, Hogwarts, August 2010


“Come on, Password please! I haven\'t got all day,” the creaky voice snapped.

Ron felt like he was back in the first year. “Um…”

“That’s a rather stupid password, young man. But since you’ve chosen it, ‘Um’ it will be,” the plant/animal muttered. The portrait slid back, and Ron walked inside.

What a stroke of luck! No one had set a password for Hufflepuff! Grinning, Ron walked through the Common Room, looking for a place to crash out and think. He spied a pile of rough-looking blankets, which upon inspection appeared to be Hessian sacks. Dragging them over to the couch in front of the fireplace, he piled them around him. They’d keep him warm, as he dared not light a fire…and who could light a fire in this place anyway, without a wand?

Ron lay under his rather prickly coverings, trying to germ. rm. The quietness of the room was a stark contrast to the Pandemonium at Millie’s office, and he was glad of the mental space here. He needed to think.

First of all – where would Hermione be? In the dungeons, probably, with that greasy git…and the last place he wanted to go, wandless, was anywhere near his old Potion Master’s domain. In addition, he would need to find Nathan Bulstrode and dispose of him so that no one suspected – imagine if suddenly two Nathan Bulstrodes walked into the same room!

This wasn’t going to be easy. Ron slipped the knife from his belt, and examined it for a while, turning it over, careful not to cut himself. It was bloody sharp, and the leather sheath protecting the blade was obviously dragon hide, probably Shortsnout. He laid the knife, back in its sheath, on top of the small briefcase.

Ron dragged a hand through his red hair. It wasn’t going to be possible to get this done tonight. What on earth had Pansy been thinking of, sending him here in the middle of the night? Was she mental, or what? Doubts began to cloud his mind. Snape had taken Hermione away from him. Was there any way he could outwit such a powerful Wizard? Without a wand? He would have to be very resourceful…never one of his strong qualities, resourcefulness. Especially on an empty stomach, he thought, as his tummy rumbled. He didn’t dare risk sneaking into the kitchens for some food, but he was ravenous.

And to add to ravenous, he was hung over, pissed off, and exhausted. Looking for Hermy could bloody well wait ‘til morning.


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Gryffindor Tower, Hogwarts, August 2010


I awoke with the rising sun, feeling its warm rays slide over my face and arms. Lying beside me, his face completely devoid of the usual worry-lines, lay Severus Snape, the man of my dreams. I gazed at him, a smile curving on my lips. He was beautiful. Completely beautiful.

I had never woken in the morning with anyone other than Ron beside me. The one time I had made love with Severus while I was a Hogwarts student, I had crept out and back to my room that same night. ‘If I have things my way,’ I thought, ‘I am going to make sure I wake up with *this* man every morning for the rest of my life!’

I leaned over and kissed his mouth, and, still sleeping, he responded, his lips lazily roaming mine. ‘I could do this all day,’ I thought.

But there was someone else I had to see this morning. Robin! My heart leapt again, as I slid from Severus’ sleepy embrace, whispering “I’m going to get breakfast.” And I opened the door into the Gryffindor Common Room.

*

I quickly dispatched a summons to the kitchens, and presently a house-elf began to materialise before me. I hoped it wouldn’t be Winky. It wasn’t. It was Dobby.

“Mistress Wea – Hermione, Dobby is here to bring Hermione her breakfast. What does Mis - Hermione require?” his huge eyes beamed at me, and I smiled.

“Thank you for remembering, Dobby. You’re a great house-elf.”

Dobby shook his head, his leathery ears flapping like flags. “Dobby is not great. Harry Potter is great. Master Dumbledore is great! Hermione is – “

I wasn’t about to get into this right then. “Yes, yes, whatever you think, Dobby,” I managed to say over the top of his gradually crescendo-ing objections.

At that moment, Robin came stumbling into the Common Room. He looked pale, as if he hadn\'t slept well at all.

“Good morning, Robin,” I said softly. “I’m sorry, did we wake you?”

He nodded, and that nod, I knew, was enough to set Dobby off in an orgy of self-harming.

“Shut up, Dobby,” I warned, making Robin blink with surprise. I suppose I did sound rather harsh.

“Hermione is quite right, young Robin Chapeau. Dobby must control himself. Dobby is too loud and naughty – “

I rolled my eyes at Robin, who looked at me and giggled.

Do you want breakfast? I mouthed

Yes, he mouthed back.

Eggs? Bacon? Toast? Juice? I enunciated carefully, so he would have no trouble lip-reading me.

He nodded vigorously to all of those suggestions.

“Dobby, we’ll have eggs, bacon and toast for three, plus pumpkin juice, a pot of tea and a pot of coffee.” I talked over him, as he was still chuntering on.

“Dobby will bring breakfast for Hermione and Robin Chapeau…” He winked at me salaciously “…and Professor Snape.”

I blushed. I knew there was nothing going on in Hogwarts that those house-elves did not know about. But they got me every time, the little gits.

Dobby snapped his fingers and vanished away to the kitchens, and Robin came over to me, blushing a little.

“Miss Granger, Professor Snape’s your boyfriend, isn\'t he?”

I looked at him in surprise. “Well…that’s not an easy question to answer, young man,” I tried to stall.

“Do you love him?” he demanded, tears beginning in his eyes.

“Yes. Yes, Robin, I love him.” I found myself replying, aghast that he was crying.

He looked down at the floor. “How long have you loved him, Miss Granger?” I heard him ask tremulously.

“Since my Seventh year at Hogwarts, in 1998.” I replied, hoping it would soothe him somehow. What was wrong with him?

There was a long pause. Then finally, Robin lifted his beautiful face, one tear suspended on his cheek.

“I …overheard the two of you talking last night…”

I hoped that had been ALL he’d overhea
“
“…and I thought I was right…but I needed to make sure. Miss Granger…You’re my Mum…aren\'t you?”

I let out a gasp.

“Yes, she is,” replied a voice from behind me, speaking in a velvet tone. Severus’ arms circled my waist from behind.

“And I, as you’ve evidently already deduced, am your father.”

There was a silence. I stood facing my son, the arms of his father around me. I felt nervous, and by the faint tremor coming off Severus’ body, I knew he felt just as agitated. Much upo upon this moment. Our son had had a lifetime of being lied to and meddled with.

Robin continued to gaze at us, his expression inscrutable.

“At least I won’t have to be good at Quidditch,” our son finally said, in a small voice.

“Meaning?” I asked, incredulously.

“I thought maybe Harry Potter would turn out to be my Dad…” he tweaked a lock of his dark hair as he explained, still speaking very quietly.

Severus’ arms tensed around my middle. “And you would, perhaps, prefer Famous Harry Potter as your father?” he asked, in the same restrained tones as his son.

There was another pause.

“I think…I’d prefer to be really good at Potions, Sir…Dad, I mean.”

I felt the arms around me relax slightly.

“I meant what I said, in the Great Hall, Robin,” Severus said softly.

“About working really hard and making my parents proud? I meant what I said, too.” He looked so small, so fragile…and yet I had caught a brief glimpse of his intelligence and abilities. He was strong. “I intend to do just that.”

“Well then, Robin Granger-Snape,” I said, my voice faltering a little, but if we weren’t ready for it by then, we never would be. “I’d be really proud if you’d come over here and give your father and I a hug…right now.”

I had never seen anyone move so fast in all my life.

Thankfully it was in the right direction, I breathed with relief, as he came crashing into us.

And I don’t believe I had ever felt more p, or, or pleased, than I felt at that moment. And judging by Severus’ face, he hadn\'t either.

*

When we’d all eatreakreakfastremaremarked casually, “Of course, you are going to have to be good at Quidditch as well as Potions.”

“Why’s that Miss Gra – Mum, I mean?”

“Because yfathfather used to be a Beater on the Slytherin team. And he was very good at it, you know. If you can call hitting a dirty great ball around a huge field, in mid-air, trying to knock other people out, a ‘good’ thing…”

Severus raised an eyebrow at me, and I guffawed with surprise, for when I looked over to grin at my son, he had the exact same expression as his father’s!

“Oh, gods, the pair of you…just stop it, OK? I know when I’m outnumbered,” I pretended to grumble.

“You mother doesn’t have any interest at all in Quidditch, Robin. Actually, it’s the only thing in the world she’s completely useless at.” Severus was baiting me, and I poked my tongue out at him. Robin was watching the whole exchange like a muggle tennis match, highly amused.

“What do you want to do today, young man?” I d, td, to change the subject.

He wore his father’s scowl as he looked at both of us. “I want to go and see Albus Bloody Dumbledore.”


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Main Floor Corridors, Hogwarts, August 2010


The Owl had not arrived, and Nathan walked dejectedly along the corridors, feeling most disappointed. He had been so sure it would have come with the post this morning!

Perhaps the owl returning with his Portkey had got lost, or maybe Opportunity Squibs had had a whole barrage of applications, and his Portkey was still awaiting its charms.

That must be it, he decided, brightening a little. The Owl would be sure to arrive tomorrow. He looked out of a window as he was passing it, and the day was going to be a beautiful one. Nathan checked his pocket-watch, and realised with joy that he had five whole minutes before he was due to get back to work. He could take the nearest exit, the one near the rose-gardens, and get some fresh air.

Smiling to himself, Nathan Bulstrode made his way along then con corridor towards the Hufflepuff Door. His step was light, and he knew that everything would be all right.

A slight movement caught his eye as he walked by the Hufflepuff Common Room. He stopped, and stared, wondering why on earth the Common Room portrait hole was open. No one was staying there. Nathan knew where everyone was staying who was in Hogwarts at the moment. Perhaps he’d left it open himself, the last time he had cleaned it. If so, then he would be in big trouble if he didn’t close it immediately. Master Filch was always getting on his case. Thinking of his Master made his head ache…he didn’t want to think about nasty Argus Filch.

With a toss of his light-brown, tightly-curled hair, Nathan Bulstrode stood before the open doorway of the Hufflepuff Common Room, and peered in. it wouldn’t do to shut someone inside – he was always getting in to trouble for doing this task wrong, that task quitquite right. Then of course Master Filch would give him the really shitty jobs to do, and he’d be –

He tried to scream, but a freckled hand was suddenly plastered over his mouth.

“Come in quietly, Mr Bulstrode, and don’t make a noise.”

Nathan Bulstrode, eyes rolling in fear, caught sight of something that made him nearly pass out with abject horror.

It was the shining blade of a steel knife.