Mirror, Mirror

Mirror, Mirror

Chapter Five – The Ties that Bind

Hermione used Mobilicorpus to levitate Snape over to his bed. She pulled down the bed covers and gracefully dropped the now gently snoring Snape. She had requested to check his wounds earlier and he hadn’t actually refused, so she took the opportunity to undress him. Even though she had hardened herself to patient’s injuries, she still hissed when she saw the scars criss-crossing his body with out rhyme or reason. There were old scars, most notably the one he incurred during the final battle against Voldemort. That one was quite obvious, still being puckered and red, even after all these years. The lance carried by the ghoul who was part of the army of the dead and near dead had ripped into his side inflicting damage on his spleen and liver. Everyone remembered the gruesome image of Snape, spear hanging from his side, continuing to cast hex after hex, protecting Harry from Death Eaters while Harry fought the Dark Lord. Hermione remembered how Poppy had moaned that he would never survive his injuries. But he had. And, for some reason chosen to put himself back into harm’s way not long afterwards.

She removed his underwear, looking for further evidence of torture. And she found none. In fact, the pattern and style of persecution was not that of Death Eaters at all. If Snape had been held captive and tormented by rogue Death Eaters, even one who wished to keep him alive, his injuries would have been much worse.

Hermione searched for some nightclothes to put on him and, finding none, dressed him in fresh underwear. Just as she was pulling the covers up over him, he reached out and brought her close to him.

“Come to bed, now,” he whispered, all brandy breathed.

Hermione blushed red as a beet. She stroked his hair and whispered back. “Soon, just go to sleep.” This seemed to be enough reassurance for Snape who sighed and went back to sleep.

She sat there a moment, pondering what had gone on. Either he was mad or perhaps they both were, for without a shred of evidence to back him up, she believed, or at least wanted to believe what he said was true. Imagine it, she thought, a kind of magic that would allow you to visit a lost loved one, one final time. To be able to go on with one’s life knowing that even though you could no longer see your dearly departed they were alive and continuing on in another place. She snorted, wasn’t that what most religions promised-- a special land where death had no dominion? However, this wasn’t a paradise, simply a someplace else with a different turn of events. Snape had told her that he had fought in the war. Could there be some dark place where Voldemort had won? She shivered at the thought.

She looked around the chambers. He was right. They were rather gloomy and you could tell that the damp was barely being held at bay.

And she thought about the story he’d told her about his Hermione. How should she feel over being told such a tale; that he would-- not seduce but-- manipulate a young woman’s feelings until she agreed to marriage? He seemed to honestly care about his family, but still… He portrayed himself as being almost evil in what he did. It would have seemed so much more wholesome if he had told her that he’d fallen in love with a student one night in detention. And then the rest would not have seemed too bad. It actually sounded like he had courted her in an old fashioned manner: finding out the things that made her happy, and then putting the best face on himself. What man didn’t do that? And, come to think of it, was he really so vain, or merely determined to please a woman who didn’t fancy her husband wearing black or not having nice teeth? Hermione came to the conclusion that before her was a man who was int intensely insecure and guilty over his actions in pursuing his love. Surely, his cockiness was little more than an act…

A memory arose unbidden to her. It was the summer after the battle at the Ministry. She’d developed, well she didn’t want to call it a crush, but feelings for Snape after Harry had admitted that he’d looked into Snape’s memories in the Pensieve. She and Ron had pestered Harry into describing what he had seen. It had all been part of Harry explaining to his friends why he’d stopped the classes with Snape. And as much as she wanted to take Harry’s side, and in fact pretended she did, her heart secretly went out to Snape.

She shook herself out of her reverie. Honesty, she thought, you need to think more like a medi-witch or you will never be licensed. He had been tortured, short and simple. The mind will do anything to survive and preserve itself, including creating a make-believe world where life has new meaning and there is a reason not to give up. I should be flattered, she admitted, he must have had some soft spot for me or he would never have come up with a fantasy where we are married.

Hermione got up and took one last look around. The furniture looked to have been at lease 60 years old and was aging badly. The carpets were threadbare and the tapestries on the walls were quite faded. Hermione was familiar with many of the professors’ quarters, having often returned toviwwarts to visit Professors she was fond of. They all had much better furnishings. So why did his look so sad?

Well, he didn’t seem to beisk isk to himself or others, so she could probably report to the old Headmaster that his being there would not be a problem for Hogwarts. Pity about him losing his job, though, perhaps the Ministry would grant him a pension for services rendered as a member of the Order. She’d speak to the Headmaster first thing in the morning about it. And with that she closed the door behind her and reset the wards. She hoped that the ex-potions professor had a good supply of hangover remedy. He’d most likely need it tomorrow morning.


&&&

Hermione took her breakfast in her room. She’d had a lovely time chatting with Dobby about changes in the castle since her graduation. Most of the house elves still hated her, having long memories, but Dobby protectively kept the truth from her. She was just getting ready to check on Snape one last time before consulting with Dumbledore and leaving when there was a knock on her door.

“Hermione, I’m so sorry to be disturbing you,” said the Headmaster who sounded like he was anything but sorry.

“Yes?” she replied with a sinking feeling in her stomach.

‘He’s in the library and Madam Pince is having conniptions. Would you be so kind?”

Hermione noted that there was a small smile playing about his mouth. What is he on about? she wondered.

“I’ll be right on it.” And she hurried out to find out exactly what was going on.

She found him in the Restricted Section surrounded by books. They were on the floor, on chairs, tables, window ledges, half hanging off of shelves.

“Miss Granger, I’ve told him repeatedly—we do not have what Professor Snape is looking for. Those books do not exist in this library.” Indeed, Madam Pince was having conniptions, she was quite beside herself.

Hermione held back a smile. She’d never been too fond of Madam Pince and to see her in such agitation tickled the schoolgirl still inside of Hermione. “I’m very sorry Madam Pince… I’ll try to reason with him.”

“Well, do something. He’s possessed!” And the librarian stalked off to her desk.

“Um, Professor Snape?” Hermione tapped him on the shoulder. She was surprised to see that he’d cut his hair short. As she suspected, his ears did stick out horribly.

“Hermione, thanks for coming. I could use your help in keeping that harpy off of me!” He nodded in Pince’s direction and Hermione heard a little “Harrumph” coming from her as she had obviously heard him. He chuckled at the librarian’s reaction. Again, Hermione felt her determination to be reasonable and logical swayed by the change in Snape’s personality.

“What are you looking for?”

“Any book having to do with Transconveyance, of course.” He ran a hand through his very short hair and looked a bit disconcerted. “I keep forgetting that it’s all gone. Feels much better though. How do I look?”

Hermione wanted to find a deep hole to hide in. “Fine, very nice.” She sighed. Maybe he couldn’t stay at Hogwarts. But she really needed to get back to helping her mother. What to do with him?

“Well, could you give me a title or two?”

“There are two books that are needed. They are the basis for all the other studies that follow: The original is a dark arts text that gives the original potion to send a soul to another realm, it’s a grimoire entitled, “The Blight of the Ages” or something like that. It’s a subject that’s not taught outside of the Ministry of Magic. The other book would be “Avery H.’s Travelogues” and it’s the latter book that is most important. I could do up the potion in my sleep, but I lack the incantations needed.”

“What if they are not here?”

“Then I’ll have to head down to Knockturn Alley and look for it. I should still have some contacts there. Hermione, there must be a copy in this realm. It’s only logical. How else could I have come here? The spell must have been used as part of the torture on the other Severus Snape. They obviously didn’t know what they were doing, so even though this is an uncharted realm, the texts must be extant. Well, at least tark ark arts one.” He turned away from her and took another book down and mumbled a revealing spell over it.

“You don’t even know if that spell would work without your wand.”

He didn’t even bother looking up at her, “Actually, I do know it works. I’ve already found various collections of erotica and pornography hidden here.” He continued his search.

“All right,” Hermione also began searching through the tomes.

“And what are you doing, Miss Granger!” Madam Pince said, her voice sharp with outrage.

“I’m helping Prof. Snape find a book which may be disguised.”

“No such books are here!”

“Oh, and what about this, ‘The Bedside Book of Prunella Quim’? It was hidden as ‘Moste Potente Love Potions’ by Amory Amoritus.” Said Snape with a sneer as he waved a book with a lurid pink satin cover.

Madam Pincer’s face crumbled and grew ashen. “What… in my library?” She sniffed once and walked quickly out of the room.

“Prude,” said Snape as he continued to rummage.

“We’d better hurry, I have a feeling that she is going straight to the Headmaster.” Hermione picked up the pace with which she was removing books and casting the revealing spell.

“It’s just this one bookcase left,” he heaved a sigh and rubbed his back. “I refuse to give up. I don’t care if I have to poke through every damned antiquarian bookstore and flea market there is-- I know there must be a copy in this realm.”

“And if there’s not?” asked Hermione.

“Let’s not go there,” he said grimly and continued in quiet.

&&&

“I must say, it was very nice of you to be willing to share your flat with me.”

“Well, I do feel partially responsible for Headmaster Dumbledore evicting you from Hogwarts.” She sipped her cup of tea and looked at the disaster that was once her flat. She knew that the Headmaster was a powerful wizard, but she’d never imagined that he could in one short spell send all of Snape’s belongings to her flat. She grinned, “At least we did determine that the books were not at Hogwarts.”

“And you did a wonderful job of convincing the Aurors that I did not belong in St. Mungos.” Snape took up a chocolate digestive biscuit and nibbled at the chocolate covering. “You almost had me convinced. What was that Muggle term again? Post-traumatic Stress Syndrome? You have quite the imagination.”

“No, Severus. It’s a real disorder. It happens to Muggles who have gone through great trauma, such as torture.”

“Never heard of it!” He popped the denuded biscuit in his mouth and began pouring himself another cup of tea. “And I am married to a Muggle-born.”

“I’m afraid that psychology isn’t very popular in the Wizarding World. I suspect that it’s due to the ability to perform magic. Most mentally ill Wizards blow themselves up well before there is even a chance to diagnose depression or other disorders.”

Snape looked uncomfortable at the thought. “So, planning to specialize?” he said, changing the subject.

Hermione shook her head, “I’m not sure what I’ll be doing once I’m a licensed medi-witch. I’ll probably take some more time off and take a look at different practices to apprentice at.” She wondered how long it would take to find Snape a new job and a flat of his own. Of course, it was problematic as to when or if he’d ever be capable of living on his own. She’d only just kept him out of St. Mungos by signing a Wizard’s contract to be his keeper. And this thing with finding the books did seem to be a monomania… She sighed and took another bite of her crumpet.

“Don’t worry about a thing, Hermione. I’ll keep out of your way until I find someplace to stay. Actually, I need to see how much I have at Gringotts in this realm. Judging from his taste in undergarments, not a lot of money. I’ll find the book sooner or later, and then…”

“Even with the book, will you be able to find your way back?”

“I hope so. Our version of the travelogue has the incantation for the “Silver Heather” realm. That’s the name given to my little corner of the universe.” He looked down and swallowed. Hermione noted that he was getting maudlin again.

She reached out and placed her hand over his. “You told Harry once not to wear your heart on your sleeve.”

“That was before I fell in love with you—I mean, my wife.” Snape actually blushed. “Excuse me. There’s something I need to attend to.” He got up quickly and locked himself in the loo.

Hermione sat and questioned herself as to how she ever got herself into this mess. After a moment she got up and addressed the bathroom door. “I’m heading over to my mother’s now. Will you be all right on your own? You are, of course, more than welcome to come with me!”

The door opened. “I’d love to meet your mother again! Is she still fond of Turkish Delight? We could bring her a box.”

Hermione shook her head. She’d forgotten that he’d claimed to know both her parents as their son-in-law. This would indeed be a very interesting meeting.

&&&

Margaret Granger was in heaven. Hermione rolled her eyes. Who knew that the evil, oily, asocial man could be so charming? He knew her mother’s every weakness and was currently exploiting it to the utmost. Her mother at one point had brought her into the kitchen to let her know that she really didn’t mind the age difference, since he obviously had the suave maturity that most of her other dates lacked.

Again, Hermione was confronted by the unreal feeling that he was indeed, as her instincts told her, telling the truth. He certainly was playing her like a fine violin. Resentfully, she wondered if her mother wasn’t simply flirting with him, but so soon after her father’s death she knew she wasn’t. Simply put, Snape did seem to have prior experience of Margaret Granger and knew the exact subjects that she loved to talk about. Hermione knew that she should be happy that her mother was so entertained. And yet, she felt like the dog in the manger and it was petty of her to resent the two of them. Oh yes, they had both turned her life upside down, what with her needing to take time off from her studies to help her mother adjust and now dealing with a Snape who might or might not be delusional.

Why me, asked Hermione, as Snape reeled off a really corny joke that she was sure her father had told them the last Christmas that he’d been alive. Her mother laughed appreciatively and again nodded her approval to Hermione.

A/N: Super big germy hugs from fluish April to my reviewers: Little Bird, Angelina, Jkrazed, Jules, Gill, Genrou, Demonic Angel and NegativeNine.