It\'s All Done With Mirrors

A/N: Here\'s Chapter 6...I\'m really enjoying writing this!
deblovesdragon - thanks for your review!!! Believe me, you will find out what has become of Sev and Hermione\'s little one...and also that there are a lot more players in this intrigue than is immediately obvious! Blessings, Kxx

Chapter Six
Corridors


Corridors in Hogwarts, August 2010

I decided that enough is enough, and I wanted some answers, damn it! Even though I had no idea where I was going, I walked purposefully along the dark corridor, my wand before me shedding the delicate light of the lumos Charm.

As I strode, making hardly any sound, I tried once again to make some intelligent connection between the events that had occurred in the past 24 hours. \'We can start\', I thought to myself, \'with the voice in my head. It only appears every so often. Why?\'

Or maybe where would be more appropriate. I retraced my steps mentally. First of all, I\'d been in the bathroom, washing my face. Then it had appeared again, while I was at the bar in The Leaky Cauldron. Once again, after I\'d eaten that pasty in Diagon Alley. \'Could it be food poisoning, or a food- or drink-related spell,\' I wondered. No, that couldn\'t be right, I hadn\'t eaten in the bathroom, and I hadn\'t had even a drink of water...

Water, then, perhaps. Though I had been drinking whiskey, and I didn\'t have a drink with my pasty. Hades, I was getting no closer.

\"What about just now, though? In the corridor?\" My voice sounded enormous in the silent corridor, and it made me jump. I cursed my stupid nervousness and continued the thought, silently this time.

\'You were in the corridor, and you heard the voice, and you leaned against...\'

The panelling, which was so highly polished like glass, I had nearly ended up on the floor.

Memories sliced their way into my consciousness. The bathroom mirror. The glossy polish of the bar, my face reflected in it. Checking my h inh in my compact. In the bathroom again, filling in my Hogwarts application form, in front of the mirror. In Harry\'s bathroom...

It was all to do with reflections.

Was I going mad? Possibly. Was I doing this myself? No. I talk to myself all the time, I know, and I\'ve never used any other voice than my own. The velvet-clad tones of the voice that had talked to me somehow via my own reflection belonged to someone else entirely.

And I knew, in a flash, whose voice that was. I had finally opened the lid on a memory I had packed away and sealed tight shut twelve years ago.

It was Snape\'s voice.


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The Dungeons, Hogwarts, August 1998

Severus scowled as he read down the list of results. Disappointing, most of them, but there had been a few surprises. Longbottom, for example had actually passed the Potions NEWT. Scraped through, he might add, rather like that idiot Weasley. Misses Brown, Patil and Parkinson had failed miserably. Famous Harry Potter had attained a tolerable mark, although he, Snape, would have loved to have scrawled a huge green \'D\' over Potter\'s test paper. And three hundred points from Gryffindor for being...well, for being a Potter.

Severus sighed. And here we have her marks. 402%...admirable, Hermione, simply admirable.

\"Her name is Miss Granger. And don\'t you forget it, like you foolishly forgot once before,\" he snapped out loud.

Why couldn\'t he have found her, though? Where had she gone? When he had managed to repair his wand, he tried to locate hers...had apparated immediately to Diagon Alley -

\'You washed your hair first though, didn\'t you?\' he rebuked himself. \'Not to mention the fresh shirt and clean robes. And was it worth it?\'

He had got no further than Gringotts. Hermione\'s wand was there indeed, the pull of it from the vaults making his wand buck in his hand. He waited, assuming she was down there making a deposit or a withdrawal. But after a while, when Gringotts closed for the day, it was apparent that Hermione wasn\'t in possession of her wand any more.

He\'d tried to locate her again, every day, for a twelvemonth and at least once a week for another, hoping that she would return some day for her wand. And then one day, his hope had died. He had seen her, with that bloody Weasley boy, and -

Well, suffice to say what he had seen had allowed him to exorcise her from his heart.


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Corridors in Hogwarts, August 2010

Severus bloody Snape. The absolute, bloody bastard. How dare he try and sneak his way back into my life, after what he did...

Scowling with utter fury. I ran my fingers through my hairolenolently scraping the bushy tangle away from my face. I felt sick with fresh grief. As if Ron being killed wasn\'t enough...

Was this why I had been brought here? Hadn\'t he hurt me enough, all those years ago? Was this all about some sick whim of his, to bring me here so he could laugh at what I\'ve become?

Well. I was about to find out. To the dungeons!

I whirled round and stormed off, no longer caring if anyone heard me. My bare feet pounded the parquet, each separate thud echoing round the dark, empty corridors. I rounded another corner and took the staircase, thundering down at a terrific pace. I was seriously pissed off. Severus bloody Snape had better have some answers ready, or -

\"Get. Out. Now!\"

I froze. Snape. Could he see me? Was this another of his little games? Terrified at the anger in his voice, I cringed into the shadows and whispered \"nox\" at my wand. The faint light vanished. A sudden crash from the Potions lab made me wince, and I caught my breath so sharply I let out a loud hiccup.

Oh, perfect. Holding my breath, I squinted towards the light round the slightly open doorway.

\"Isn\'t it enough that I have to tolerate you in my space without being subjected to your insufferable scheming? What have you done to me?\"

That was Snape all right...but whom was he screaming at? My lungs were aching fit to burst, but I dared not breathe. The angry woman who had hared down these halls moments before was reduced to a quivering jelly-like mass of pure fear.

More crashing noises. I was starting to see black spots before my eyes. \'Oh Gods,\' I pleaded silently, \"let him not see me!\' I squeezed my eyes shut as the door was suddenly flung open.

Another crash meant the door must have been slammed shut, but other than that all I could hear was the blood roaring in my head. I opened my eyes, and the black spots had got worse. I simply had to breathe before I passed out. I exhaled as quietly as possible, which was not quiet at all as it turned out.

For as my vision cleared I realised that someone was standing in front of me.


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A bedsit in Wizarding London, April 2000

\"Please say yes, Hermione! It\'ll be better than this\" - his arm swept in a circle, indicating the tiny bare room.

Hermione looked down at the floorboards. She was so tired. It wasn\'t fair.
Only that day, she\'d returned to the Wizarding world, going straight to Gringotts to retrieve her wand. And after a good few hours trying to convince the Chief Cashier goblin that she was, indeed, Hermione Granger, she realised that the famous Gringotts security was as impenetrable as all the legends suggested. Even with passwords and the correct answer to a list of extremely personal questions, she wasn\'t getting anywhere.

So she\'d Floo\'d a plea to The Burrow, and Ron had apparated immediately.

Ignoring his demands for an explanation of exactly where she\'d been for the past couple of years, Hermione had simply stared him out until he\'d finally shut up.

Tears in his eyes, he asked her \"What do you need?\" and she\'d replied, \"I need a pure-bred wizard to endorse my identity.\"

And he\'d walked with her into Gringotts and done just that. It had been that simple.

And now she wished she had asked someone else. Anyone else. Because now that he\'d found her again, he had no intention of letting her go. He\'d followed her to Flourish and Blotts, where she\'d looked at an advertisement for a room for rent.

He\'d pursued her while she walked to the house that had advertised for a lodger, talking all the while. Then he\'d insisted in accompanying her to view the room, which was about as low in both comfort and character as the rent was high.

And something had broken inside her with a soft snap, and she could fight him no longer. This wasn\'t the anonymous and cautious return to the Wizarding world she had wanted, but she supposed beggars - and here she thought grimly about her meagre store of Galleons in her vault - couldn\'t be choosers. She agreed to go and stay at The Burrow.

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The Burrow, April 2000

\"Hermione Granger, where in the name of all that\'s holy have you been?\"

Molly\'s dulcet tones hadn\'t changed a bit, that much was still in keeping with her past, she supposed. But everything else had changed.

For a start, Arthur Weasley had finally succeeded Cornelius Fudge as Minister of Magic, and there was a significant upgrade to the furnishings, most of which appeared practically new.

The usual bangs and explosions she had recalled from previous visits were conspicuous by their absence. She\'d learned that Fred and George had moved into rooms above the Hogsmeade branch of their successful chain of novelty wonders - Weasley\'s Wizarding Wheezes, where they were having tremendous fun giving that Zonko a run for his money.

There was no sign of Bill, Charlie or Percy, of course. Bill was still in Egypt, Charlie was missing in pursuit of a Norwegian Ridgeback. And Percy, of course, was in Azkaban.

Ginny was still there, though. She had taken one look at Hermione and her mouth had fallen open. Too stunned to speak, she\'d simply grabbed at her hand, and sat looking at her with shining eyes.

Hermione was a little stunned, herself. Ginny had grown into a beautiful woman. She was simply gorgeous, with her sleek red hair falling in graceful waves to below the backs of her knees. Gone was the shyness, and in its place was an unshakeable quiet confidence. Rather than adopting her mother\'s shrill tone, her voice was melodious, and completely bewitching.

Which was probably why Harry was looking at her as if she was the most precious jewel that ever was wrested from the earth.


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Outside the Potions Lab, The Dungeons, Hogwarts, 2010

\"I wouldn\'t go in there if I were you.\" A familiar gentle voice, which sounded, as it had always sounded, merry with amusement and as comforting as hot buttered toast on a rainy November afternoon.

\"Professor Dumbledore?\" I blinked a couple of times to make sure I wasn\'t still seeing things.

\"The very same. I see that after twelve years your insistence on wandering the corridors after curfew has not faded, Miss Granger.\" The twinkle in his eyes hadn\'t faded either, and I could not help smiling in return.

\"I am no longer a student here, Professor,\" I replied, as my legs threatened to buckle underneath me.

\"Then the obvious question would be, what are you doing in Hogwarts?\"

\"I didn\'t, that is, I don\'t really know, you see, I - \"

\"Calm yourself, my dear. I am pleased to see you here. Welcome home.\"

Home?

I was so tired bew bewildered, the only thing I could do with success is burst into tears.

\"But I am being inhospitable! Dear Miss Granger, please come with me. I fear you may be in dire need of a comfortable chair, and perhaps some refreshment - and I hope you will forgive me for my bad manners in not asking you sooner!\"

He took my arm and began to steer me through the corridors, his swiftness belying his advanced years. Dumb with bafflement, all I could do was scurry to keep up whim.him.