It\'s All Done With Mirrors

A/N: I\'m awed by your responses, Reviewers! Thank you so much for them, as they are like well seasoned logs upon the Fire which warms the toes of my Muse! Love and New Year Blessings upon you all, love Kait xxxx

Chapter Thirty Two
Questions and Answers


Headmistress’s Office, Hogwarts, August 2010


“Good morning, Hermione, and…er…Severus,” Minerva McGonnagall’s voice sounded a little unsteady, and I felt sure she was blushing. “Good morning, Headmistress,” I replied, none too warmly, I’m afraid.

“Good morning, Minerva.” Severus’ voice was just as cool. He took a step sideways, and Robin stepped forward.

“Professor McGonnagall,” he said politely. “Please can we see Professor Dumbledore?”

Minerva’s face was pale, save for a ruddy spot on each cheek. She stepped away from the door, allowing us all to come in. With a trembling hand, she motioned us towards the loveseat and armchair.

“P-please be seated. I will go and fetch Albus immediately.”

With a desperate look in eyeseyes, Minerva left her office, and we listened to the sound of her footsteps as she descended the staircase. She was practically sprinting.


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Opportunity Squibs Office, Knockturn Alley, Au 201 2010


“I expect Weasel’s found your little squibling by now, Millie darling,” Pansy hissed, a horrible smile on her pug-like face.

Millicent said nothing. Pansy loved the sound of her own voice, and shutting her up was not an option. Unfortunately.

The two Witches had agreed to a truce – Pansy would not make any more attempts to take Millie’s wand, and Millicent herself would not bait Pansy any more.

It meant though, that Millicent had had to spend the whole night listening to Pansy’s snide and incessant prattling. Still, she was used to it.

“Of course, I knew your brother would have some use eventually. What a brilliant idea of mine, to feed him nice, sweet little stupefaction potions! I’m impressed, Millie – you got a nice little collection of hair tufts over the last couple of months. You could get yourself a nice little job as a Coiffeur, if you ever wanted to.”

She sneered at Millie, who merely nodded, bucolically. Pansy crossed to the window, and rubbed her name into the grime encrusting the small pane of glass. Looking at her finger, she grimaced, spat on it, and then wiped it off on her robes. She turned back to Millicent, a demented gleam in pal pale eyes.

“Of course, I’m really proud of my Polyjuice! I tried it on that Squib we interviewed last week – and it worked like a dream! I’ve improved a lot at Potion-making over the years, Mill. Just couldn’t seem to concentrate at Hogwarts – not with gorgeous Sevvie stood over me, looking all masterful. Oh, gods…I can’t WAIT until that ugly little cow-faced mudblood is dead! Then I can be with darling Sevvie…”

She sighed, fanning herself with an Opportunity Squibs pamphlet.

Millie looked at her, her face expressionless. “If you’re so madly in love with Snape, why the hell did you marry Draco?”

“To stop anyone else from marrying him, of course! Hecate’s broom, Millicent – I actually couldn’t care less about the ferret boy – I just wanted his money, and to get my hooks in his godfather. Then I would bide my time waiting for an opportunity to frame my dear husband! I’ve always prided myself on being able to get other people into trouble – take Ron’s piss-poor little attempt to stop Sevvie meeting up with that muggle h, fh, for example…”

“You’ve lost me, I’m afraid.” Millie said.

“Oh, sorry…I forgot that evil genius wasn’t your forte,” Pansy quipped, abusively. “Poor little Millie! Well, at least you had the sense to hitch your dull, fat caboose to the Hogwarts Express of my prodigal mind! Allow me to take you back a dozen years or so…”

With an expression of triumphant insanity, Pansy recounted a portion of the past, while Millicent just gazed at her, her hazel eyes empty of expression.


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The Astronomy Tower, Hogwarts, March 1998


“Ooooh, gods, Ronnie, you will never guess who I saw coming out of Snape’s rooms a while ago! I guess Slytherin and Gryffindor really is a great combo!”

Ron stopped fumbling at Pansy’s left breast, a little disconcerted. She wasn’t concentrating, he thought, a little ruefully. He looked up at her excited, smiling face, hoping to bring her back to attending his amorous ministrations. But she was gazing at him expectantly, and to try to avert Pansy from her preferred course was like trying to herd cats.

“Who?” he finally mumbled, giving a last squeeze to her flaccid pink nipple before finally giving up.

Pansy giggled. “None othern yon your little bookish friend, Ronnie darling! I must admit I was a bit shocked…I’d really thought she and Harry would end up being an item! But there you have it, sweetheart – even your darling Slytherin love-biscuit can be wrong sometimes…” Pansy’s voice had risen an octave, in a squirm-worthy parody of girlish self-deprecation.

Ron gaped at Pansy. “You Wha’?”

“Hermione, of course, silly! Our Esteemed Head Girl! She looked pretty mangled, I have to say…clothes all over the place, a silly grin on her face, walking like she’d spent all day on a broomstick…it was so funny, Ronnie! I laughed all the way back to my dorm…Ronnie? Where are you off to in such a hurry?”

But ‘Ronnie’ was gone. Pansy collapsed onto the bed, her fists balled, punching at the air in triumph.


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Opportunity Squibs Office, Knockturn Alley, August 2010


“See? It was brilliant. Then all I had to do was suggest that Weasel lent his useless little owl – Pigwidgeon, for gods’ sake, what a ridiculous name – to his darling mudblood…the useless bird of course couldn’t even make a trip up a flight of stairs without stopping to catch its puny little breath…so all dear Ronnie had to do was pick up the fluffy excuse for an avian and intercept the parchments!”

Millicent Bulstrode forced a laugh. She wished she was at home, in bed, eating chocolates and reading the latest “Witch Weekly” article on glamour charms…instead of sitting in a chair in a dingy room in Knockturn Alley, knackered and famished and having to listen to her ‘friend’ recount her nasty little exploits.

This project had stopped being fun weeks ago. She wished she hadn\'t got involved, but she hadn\'t been able to resist Pansy’s flattery, of course. She was right in the thick of it. Making her an accessory before, during and after the fact. Azkaban was too good for the likes of her. Even if she folded now, she would likely receive the Dementor’s Kiss. The only way forward would be to stay at Pansy’s side, and hope they got away with it.

“Of course, I knew that dear little Ronnie didn’t stand a chance up against dear Sevvie – if it had been Potter, I couldn’t have done it like that. Too powerful by far…so glad hs bus busy running away from that silly Ginny’s amorous advances to take much of an interest in what his best friends were doing. Potty’s advanced powers would have made mincemeat out of my darling! But Weasel, with his second-hand wand? I knew Sevvie would be safe. But anyway, back to my husband the ferret…”

Pansy cackled, and Millicent dutifully assumed an evil smirk.

“…The plan was to get Draco arrested for ‘killing’ Ron. Then I would descend on dear ‘Uncle Severus’ and pour my little heart out to him. No one’s ever resisted a Parkinson in floods of tears. He’d comfort me, and then we’d end up kissing, and then – ”

“Too bad he had an alibi, really. I don’t think you really thought this one through that well, did you?” Millicent said, pointedly, interrupting Pansy’s fantasies. The ecstatic look on her face was more than Millie could bear.

“Well, I’m back on track now, aren\'t I?” Pansy shot Millicent a black look. “My plan is brilliant! Once I’d figured that the Granger bitch was heading for Hogwarts – I do find 2-way photographs rather useful – ‘cos I saw the Hogwarts application form in her shit-poking little hand when she picked up my photo. Good job she didn’t look on the back, eh? We might have been rumbled! No – she was too transfixed by my beauty to think of that, wasn’t she?”

Millicent closed her eyes, and resisted the urge to vomit. She was fast coming to the conclusion that Pansy Parkinson Malfoy’s plan was not genius, but insane.

She was so tired, having stayed up all night, and she rubbed her eyes surreptitiously. It was vital not to doze off – that would be deadly, as she knew Pansy would renege on her agreement and be straight up her wand sleeve. She forced her plain features into a wicked sneer, and listened.


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Headmistress’s Office, Hogwarts, August 2010


Albus Dumbledore walked into Minerva’s office, Auror Lovegood by his side. I wondered if he thought he’d need protection from us. Probably a fair point, I decided.

“Good morning, Hermione! Severus…and Mr. Chapeau, too. What may I do for you?” His face was irritatingly merry, and I considered, briefly, setting his beard on fire. My wand hand twitched, but I controlled myself.

Severus was also being remarkably restrained, I thought to myself, as he merely gave Dumbledore a look, and then turned to my son, motioning him to rise.

Then I understood his actions, and heartily agreed. This was Robin’s fight, not ours. He was the only truly innocent party in this.

Our son stood, facing the ex-Headmaster of Hogwarts. His face was pale…but no paler than his father’s natural colouring. My hands clenched tightly in my lap, I leaned forward, willing him to stay calm.

“Professor Dumbledore, you’ve known about me for a long time. I think you were probably acting for what you thought was the best – but in all seriousness…why did you not give me to my father when my mother was unable to take care of me?”

Dumbledore remained as before, cheerfully twinkling at the boy.

“I see you have finally met with your parents, then, Mr. Chapeau…or perhaps now I should call you Mr. Granger-Snape?” he said gently, looking upon Severus and myself with one of his famous avuncular expressions. It made me want to hex Albus’ arm off and enchant it to hit him with the soggy end.

Robin’s voice was calm and velveteen-soft as he continued. “That’s right, Professor Dumbledore. But you haven’t answered my question. Why didn’t you even tell my father he had a son? Why didn’t you try to help my mother? Why didn’t you tell me both my parents were alive? I want some answers, please. I like my Uncle Draco and I like Lavender, but all along I had a Dad…less than five miles away…all the time.”

I wanted to run to him, he looked so heartbroken, but Severus placed a restraining hand upon my arm, and shook his head slightly. From the other end of the room, Auror Lovegood hed,hed, dreamily. I wondered why she was here, but there my train of thought broke off, as Dumbledore began to speak.


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Hufflepuff Common Room, Hogwarts, August 2010

Ron felt nauseous as he shoved the limp form of Nathan Bulstrode into a cupboard. He still couldn’t believe what he’d just done. He wedged a chair against the door, which kept threatening to swing open, and cast his gaze over the patches of blood on the floor.

After all his self-searching, he knew he’d done the right thing. His mission was to rescue Hermy. He had the Polyjuice. It would all work out fine.

Swallowing down the bile that rose in his throat, Ron Weasley opened the small briefcase, and slowly drew out a phial of Polyjuice. Pouring the stinking, glutinous fluid into a small glass goblet, he took out a delicate stirring rod from the confines of the case, and stirred in one pinch of Nathan’s curly hair, as per the directions.

Memories of accepting a glass of the same brew, years ago, from the small hands of Hermione Granger, flooded his mind. As did the memory of the taste. He walked over to the Common Room mirror, took a deep, cleansing breath, and raised the goblet to his lips.


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Headmistress’s Office, Hogwarts, August 2010


“My dear boy, I admit to having made poor choices at times in the past, but this time I believe my judgement to have been wise. Our Potions Master had much to do, for the good of the Order of the Phoenix, and was summoned often by Lord Voldemort. I did not want Severus to be forced, through Legilimency, to disclose the fact that he had a son...especially one mothered by a muggle-born. This fact alone would have been enough for the Dark Lord to seek you out, and dispose of you.”

Robin leapt forward, his face flushed. “But Lord Voldemort was finally defeated, what – nine years ago? Surely you could have told him after that?”

Dumbledore shook his head, gravely. “I’m afraid, Robin, that the abatement of the Deatheaters did not mean the world was rid of evil. You see, your godfather, Lord Malfoy, was privy to a few secrets that worried me immensely. A direct plot against your mother, and also yourself, I’m afraid. Keeping the three of you apart, and entrusting you into the care of Miss Brown, was the only way to ensure that, until we had concrete proof of the intended scheme, the three of you would be safe.”

“Pansy,” I offered, and Dumbledore nodded, sorrowfully.

“Your mother is correct. Lord Malfoy’s wife, Pansy, was a student at Hogwarts at the same time as Hermione. She knew of your parents’ relationship, and managed to discover the fact that your mother had borne Professor Snape a child. It was of the utmost importance that she did not detect where that child was. If your father, who needed to keep in contact with Mrs. Malfoy because of family connections, had known about your existence, then you would not be safe from her.” Dumbledore’s voice was quiet, but authoritative, and I knew that although it had been painful for all of us, his machinations had been all for the best.

“Mum’s told me about the dreams she’d been having after I was born. They came from this Pansy, didn’t they?” My son’s voice was cold, and I felt a chill down my spine. I shivered, and Severus’ arm slipped around my waist.

Dumbledore nodded assent, and Robin’s face grew red with anger.

“So where is she?” He exploded. “How could she have been allowed to get away with this? I missed having a mum and dad for eleven years, because of that…bloody Witch!” I stared, aghast, as my son’s composure finally broke, and he burst into miserable tears.

Severus stood, and he moved over to our son. He put his arms around Robin’s shoulders, hugging the boy to his chest. I merely sat, tears falling unnoticed onto the pale blue wool of own,own, listening to the voice of the father as he spoke softly to his child.

“Robin…Pansy was arrested for murder by the Ministry of Magic, but she escaped her escort to Azkaban and is unfortunately still at large. That is why you are here in Hogwarts, two weeks early. And that is why none of us but Albus and the Minister of Magic may enter or leave Hogwarts for the time being. We are safe here from attack.”

He continued to speak to Robin in the same calm and soothing tone. “My son…no one is more sorry than I that I did not have the opportunity to be there while you grew up. But Albus did indeed, though I hate to say it, act wisely on our behalves. And you are, perhaps, more fortunate than Mr. Potter whose foster parents did not make his childhood agreeable in any way.”

I was surprised that Severus could make that connection, in view of his enormous antipathy towards Harry, but I’d been amazed so much over the past few days that I decided anyt was was possible.

Dumbledore broke the ensuing silence. “Severus, Hermione, you know Auror Lovegood, I presume?”

We nodded. Then the old Wizard disentangled Robin from Severus’ arms, and led him towards Luna, who had stopped looking dreamy and was gazing at my son with interest.

“Auror Lovegood here is skilled in the art of Dreamweaving. She has reason to believe that you, Robin, have the same ability, although unschooled. She would like to talk with you about it, if you wouldn’t mind.”