Mirror, Mirror

Mirror, Mirror

Chapter Six – The Cure

It all belongs to Rowling, except what you don’t recognize.

Snape took the floo from the Ministry of Magic to the Leaky Caldron. As soon as he stepped out, Tom the innkeeper hailed him.

“And is there anything I can get your Lordship?” Tom unctuously asked. Snape bit back a nasty reply. It had only been last month that he had threatened to hex Snape for some minor infraction of the house rules involving his spying for the Order. Of course Snape remembered that this was a very different set-up, with the man he was replacing having stopped spying after the war.

The homage to Snape continued on his walk through Diagon Alley. Wizards who would not have pissed on him if he were on fire suddenly were addressing him as ‘your Lordship’ and ‘Doctor’ all with smiles and approval, scraping and bowing before him. Snape was beginning to hate his counterpart.

He was grateful that Ollivander replaced his wand with no questions asked, even though the old wand would have exploded if he’s tried to do anything more than “Lumos” with it. However, things got worse at Gringotts. Goblins are not pleasant creatures, and Snape had always felt a certain kinship with them for that. It shook Snape to the marrow to see the head Goblin actually fawn over him. But when he got to his vault, he understood why. Snape was rich. Rich beyond his wildest dreams. He stood there as if in a trance totting up the gold, silver, jewelry, and ancient, irreplaceable tomes of magic. All this was his now? But he hadn’t done a thing to earn it! He’d tried to tell himself before that he was the victim in all this, but it was becoming hard to accept. As hardhearted as he wished to be, a small worm of pity for Dr. Snape crept into his soul. A wife who loved him, a daughter who worshipped him, an esteemed position in society and more gold than he could spend in a lifetime of liberty! He found himself beginning to breathe hard, and then suddenly, he couldn’t catch his breath at all. The room with all its gleaming, glinting gold began to spin and Snape began to quiver as a leaf before the whirlwind. He fell to his knees, holding his head and then his heart as it began to beat faster and faster until he was sure it would explode on the spot!

The anxiety attack continued to punish him, but he managed to get to his feet long enough to alert the Goblin who was in charge of his vault. Quickly, he was whisked off to the office of Head Goblin where smelling salts were wafted under his nose. It helped his faintness, but his heart was still beating a fast tattoo. It wasn’t his fault! He tried to assure himself, he had been only been doing business for the Order, keeping himself useful. He didn’t ask to come here. He didn’t choose to take away this man’s life! Innocent, he was innocent.

He ran out of Gringotts, unsure where to head. Once out on the street, the tightness in his chest eased and the world began to right itself. The sunlight burned his eyes, but it was a welcome change from the subterranean place he had just been. He decided to go back to Hogsmeade and collect his clothing. After all, he thought, the man’s wife, or widow, had no use for it. But then again-- perhaps he needed to sever all ties to the man? Take nothing and just leave?

Unsure of himself, he used the Leaky Cauldron’s floo to go to the Three Broomsticks. Ignoring Rosmerta’s offer to sit and have a drink on the house, something she would have never done for him in the other realm, he marched down the High Street of Hogsmeade and turned off into the lane where the cottage was located. He couldn’t fathom why anyone with the money the Snapes had stayed in such a humble dwelling. He found the door unlocked and unwarded and went inside. Hermione was in the living room sniffling. There was no sign of Potter about and Snape gratefully headed upstairs unchallenged.

He was going through clothing, learning that the only black thing the other Snape had owned other than socks was a Muggle-style black leather jacket and matching trousers. Snape sneered at the affectation and chose not to take any robes with him. He did take the underwear and socks, tucking them into a small bag along with some toiletries and potions. He had turned around to leave and nearly stumbled over the child.

“Daddy, why is Mommy crying?” Sarah was all round-eyed with fear.

“Go ask her. I don’t read minds.” He tried to pass by her, but she had spotted the bag.

“No, Daddy. You’re not going. No trip now, no, you have to make Mommy feel better.” Snape stared at the child, so very pale with those black Snape eyes and made a decision.

“Nanani! Nanani!” he yelled.

The elf appeared, now wearing a short, straight red wig which looked far worse that the first.

“Master?”

Snape produced a Sickle. “You are to take Sarah here to Zonkos and oh, what is that confectionary?” It took him a moment to remember with both the short creatures gaping at him. “Ah yes, Honeydukes, and let Sarah choose whatever she wishes.”

Nanani started to tremble, “Missus Snape be awful upset!”

“Well, she is already upset,” Snape muttered, “so it won’t be much worse. Who is the master here, Nanani?” He fixed the house elf with a terrible glare and she meeped and dragged Sarah out of the room. Sarah was holding the Sickle fiercely, trying to imagine exactly how many dung bombs a Sickle would purchase. Since she’d never been allowed to buy even one, she had no idea. But she was about to find out.

Snape had almost snuck all the way to the front door when Hermione appeared, looking like she’d been to Hades and back. Her eyes were bloodshot and her nose was completely red. Her hair had snarled and almost matted in places. Snape silently cursed, but faced her courageously.

“So that’s it. You’re leaving and not coming back?” she asked.

“Of course, Madam. That is the decision of the Ministry.”

“You don’t have to listen to them.”

“Then perhaps I choose to listen to my own advice and leave.”

“Well, since you are planning on going and starting over, there’s nothing I can persuade you with, is there?” Hermione stood there watching him with frantic eyes, praying that there was something that could keep him.

“Why, woman, would you even want me to stay? I am most definitely neither a husband nor a father. My presence would only hinder whatever grieving process you need to take with your lost husband. I am worth nothing to you, and considering that you would cold-bloodedly send me back to a situation of torture and imminent death in order to have your spouse back, I owe you nothing.”

“Why, indeed? You haven’t a clue, do you?” She quietly turned and headed into the living room. Snape found, much against his better judgment, that his curiosity was peaked and followed her. He tried to tell himself that she could do him no harm and he would not change his mind, and in fact there was no hurry for him to leave.

“So Hermione,” he continued to stand as she sat on the sofa, “what is it that I don’t have a clue about?”

“Who you are. You know, you are exactly like him. I’ve heard of this happening, but I would never have believed it.”

“You are only confusing things further.” Watching her, he had this desire to touch her. He reminded himself that it was nothing more than lust. Having had a taste of her pleasures this morning, he couldn’t help but want a bit more.

“When I look at you I still see my husband, only the way he was when we first became involved. I want you to understand this before you leave. I need you to see things the way I see them…” She licked her lips, and Snape again felt his desire rise for her. He tamped it back down. “I fell in love with you the summer I was fifteen. That summer I learned from Harry that even though he’d betrayed your trust and looked into the pensieve where you had stored the memories that you didn’t wish to share, you kept on teaching him Occlumency. I really respected that about you. You never knew that, I allowed you to think that you seduced me during my sixth year at Hogwarts, but it was never that way.”

Snape’s mind reeled. In his own world he’d suffered no end of repercussions from his decision to end Harry’s classes in the subject. The Headmaster had dressed him down repeatedly for not sharing his decision. He’d been accused by Lupin of deliberately trying to undermine the cause. And then the belief that…

“So tell me how Sirius Black is doing?” he asked, testing the waters.

“You hate Sirius, but if you wish to know, he’s doing fine.”

The room started closing in on Snape, similar to the episode at Gringotts. Snape sat down and closed his eyes.

“What’s wrong?”

“A glass of water, please,” he gasped.

Snape sipped the water and forced himself to be calm. He regulated his breathing and used the tricks and survival techniques that had kept him alive as a spy. The panic attack at Gringotts had taken him by surprise. He would not allow himself to be so weak again. “You may continue,” he said with his eyes half-closed.

She watched him carefully and then, “Imagine finding a stray cat in an alleyway. He’s half-starved and most of his fur is gone. His ear has been chewed off and his tail broken. Nearly dead, when you approach him, he still finds the energy to hiss and spit. Simply because that’s the sort of creature he is.” Snape looked up at Hermione and was startled by the depth of love he saw in her eyes.

“Then imagine the same feline a year later. Oh, the ear is still gone and the tail has a kink to it, but his fur is sleek and glossy. And when you walk in the room, instead of hissing, he purrs to you.” Hermione took his hand in hers. “Would you ever allow such an animal to be put back into the alleyway?”

Snape took his hand away and sneered at her, “What you’re saying is that you domesticated me? Made me into your little pet?”

“No, you still have claws and will scratch when upset. It’s just. Damn it all, I love both of you.” Hermione looked down, her cheeks quite red.

Snape got up. He couldn’t explain why he felt so disgusted with her, but it was there like a bad taste in his mouth that needed to be spat out. “Madam, you were a slut at fifteen and are still a slut. Good day to you.” And he left, knowing that more than anything he wanted to take her in his arms to his bed and fuck her to the mattress.

His steps were quite steady, even though he had no idea of where he was heading or where he’d be spending the night. It would be evening soon, but the feeling of claustrophobia just wouldn’t leave. He was scared. Scared to be alone, in the dark with his thoughts and memories. He knew that he had to make some decisions about his future, but he couldn’t think straight. He found himself in front of the Three Broomsticks again, and went inside.

“Severus!” Snape looked over and pulled a face. Just his luck, he thought, this was the last person he wanted to see.

“Lupin.” He said, looking for a place to sit down as far away from the werewolf as possible. Unfortunately, Lupin got up from his table where a rather beautiful young woman was sitting with him and joined Snape.

“Well, back to last names again, are we? You do look to be in a mood. Let me guess—you’ve started a new project with Hermione and all ready are at each other’s throats? Am I wrong?” He gestured to Rosmerta and they had two glasses of red current rum set in front of them.

For the first time, Snape looked carefully at Lupin. He had changed. The grey hair had totally left him and he looked younger and healthier than he’d ever been in his life. It was in shcontcontrast to the Lupin he had left behind in his world. Snape was tempted to ask what had happened to the man, but really he wasn’t in the mood to chat. He glared at the drink and asked himself since when did he drink rum instead of whiskey.

“I see,” said Lupin good-naturedly to Snape’s silence. He gestured to his shoulder nearest Snape. “Well, put it right here.”

“What?” Snape couldn’t understand the reference.

“Since you refused my offer to be your personal slave for life, you have my shoulder whenever you need to cry on it. So tell me what’s wrong!”

“It’s none of your concern, Lupin. Now I’d like some privacy, please.”

“Severus! You have it bad. What? Did Hermione toss you out?”

Snape shuddered.

“She did? Well, I’ll go have a chat with her…”

Putting his hand out, Snape forced the man back into his seat, “You will do nothing of the sort. What gives you the right to go poking your nose into my affairs,” he hissed.

Lupin looked at Snape with some alarm. “What gives me the right, mate, is that you saved my life. I was on death’s door when you invented the cure for Lycanthropy. You know that as well as I. I wouldn’t have lasted past the next transformation-- my metabolism had sped up from the transformations so much that I was like an old man. That gives me the right.” He took Snape by the arm. “So you will tell me what’s wrong and stop sulking.”

The information was too much for Snape to bear. First there was the shock of being wealthy, then the information that Black was alive, and then lly,lly, the news that he and Hermione had invented a cure for Lupin’s disease. He felt his heart start to race and yet another attack began.

“Severus, what is it? You’re sick, let me get you home!” They stood up, but Snape pushed him away.

“No. Get away from me! Now. I’ll get back by myself.” He shoved himself away from Lupin and, not looking where he was going, he careened out the front door. The light was gone from the sky, leaving an eerie half-glow only sin nin northern climes. There was a chill to the air and a promise of frost to come. Snape looked to the right and left of him, seeing the people on the street and yet not seeing them.

A cure for Lycanthropy! He’d dreamt of that discovery since the attack by Lupin on his person as a teenager. The only sure protection he’d ever have against the beast was to find a cure. And he and Hermione had done so! The puzzle pieces fit together now. Of course they were rich and feted everywhere. To the couple that created a cure to one of the Wizarding World’s most hated and feared menaces-- anything would be granted. They would, of course, receive titles and money and fame. Yes, he understood now. He began to pick up his pace. He was almost running as he entered the cottage. The oh-so-humble and yet gentle abode of the geniuses that had created the cure!

He stumbled into the living room not willing to go searching for her and called. She appeared from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a dishrag.

“What are you doing here? Have you any idea how much trouble you caused giving Sarah that money? She would have had every dung bomb in—“ The look on Snape’s face stopped her. For a moment they just stared at each other. Then Snape grabbed her and swung her about the room.

“Why didn’t you tell me we’d invented the cure?” he laughed.

“Because it wasn’t we, it was my husband and I. You don’t think you are going to take the credit?” asked a very startled Hermione.

“I need to read the notes. I need to see everything,” he said feverishly.

Hermione, afraid to take her eyes off of the madman who looked like her husband, went over to the bookcase and handed him a thin publication. “Here, it’s all public knowledge.”

He grabbed it out of her hands and looked at the cover. He then kissed it. “Next, we find a way to send me back to my realm.”

It was Hermione’s turn to be shocked. “You mean it? You really mean it?” Snape nodded and Hermione squealed. “Yes. I know we can do this! I know it.” She threw her arms around him and kissed him deeply. After a dazed moment, he kissed her back.

They danced around the room kissing, passionately, mindlessly. But finally they stopped and pulled apart.

Snape looked a bit chagrinned and Hermione was also embarrassed. “Would you be staying in the guestroom then?” she asked.

&&&

They barely spoke throughout dinner. And he took himself off to the guestroom quite early in order to study the cure in quiet. Hermione, after sending Sarah off to spend the night with her grandparents, went to Flourish and Blotts to purchase every book they had about Transconveyance. They agreed that in the morning they would attack the problem. And they said goodnight in a subdued manner.

He was almost asleep when he was gripped with another flashback and anxiety attack. Suddenly, he couldn’t breathe as he remembered what it felt like in the dungeon. He was naked and freezing. During the day, bits of light would stream through windows very high up in the stonewalls. That was when he’d be left alone. At night, it would start. There were three of them, wearing robes and Death Eater Masks. But they weren’t Death Eaters. What were they and why did they disguise themselves that way? He had hours to think on it. Long hours spent shivering in the cold and feeling his thirst and hunger and his muscles cramping and the cuts on him stinging. He was chained spread-eagle to a hard flat rock and he could feel where the imperfections in the rock were first bruising, then blistering, and finally cutting into his back.

Sometimes he wished it had been Death Eaters, and then at least he would be dead by now and his mind would be unable to return to the events. He was sucking in huge gasps of air, knowing that it was only a very vivid memory and than soon the anxiety would be over. He told himself that he just had to stay relaxed, and try to breath l itl it was over.

There was a rap at the door and it swung open. Snape recognized Hermione outlined by the nightlight that was kept on in the hallway for Sarah. Hermione crept in and slipped under his covers.

“What are you doing here?” he hissed.

“I couldn’t sleep.” She slipped closer to him, “Can you hold me?”

“Bad idea. Get out of here, before you regret it.”

“I’m not going to. So much has gone on, I need you.”

“Please get this clear. I’m not your husband and if you don’t get out of here, I’m not going to be responsible for the consequences.” He was trying so damned hard not to just grab her and rape her. “Don’t worry, we will find a way to bring him back. You just have to be patient.” His breathing was becoming ragged and all thought of the anxiety he had just experienced was being replaced by lust.

“I love you.” “Tha“That was the other one.”

“No, you’re just the way he was, all angry and sneering all the time. He changed after we became lovers and even more after the war ended. But right now, this is the way you were.”

“Hermione, don’t demean yourself and ruin your marriage. If we do this, the annulment won’t go through. The Ministry will know, Harry will, and the other Snape will find out.” She brushed her hand against his very hard prick, “Stop it!” He said, “I’m running out of nobility, here.”

She reached up with her mouth and licked the rim of his ear, “I’m yours. I’ll be yours always!”

“Damn!” If she doesn’t care, he thought, why should I?

“Do you want me?” she asked breathlessly.

It was becoming too much for him, “By Merlin’s staff, you know I do.” He crushed her mouth with his and none too gently squeezed her breast. Her only response was a “yes” followed by her pressing herself even harder against him.

“I need you so much. I don’t care about tomorrow.”

“I’m not the one you want.” He said between kisses.

“I wouldn’t want you, if you weren’t willing to get him back. I’d hate you then.”

Suddenly Snape thought he understood. Because she knew he’d help her get back her husband, she wanted him for… stress relief? That at least made sense. Another one-night stand, maybe more depending on how research went, yes, that he could understand.

“Last chance. Get out of here,” his voice rumbled war warning and menace.

“Stop wasting time, Severus.” She planted a kiss on his neck and then began to suckle on the sensitive skin there.

He tore off her nightgown and pressed his lips against her breast. He laved her nipple with his tongue and sucked on it. She yelped and pressed her hips against him, grinding her privates against his very hard and aching prick.

He pulled his mouth off of her breast. Removing his underwear, he released his cock and then, without any preamble he lifted her legs up over his arms and thrust into her. Their coupling was frenzied and violent. She would moan and say little words that he couldn’t make out as he slammed up inside of her. He felt her nails rake over his back to his buttocks as she forced him even deeper in. She was sobbing and thrusting herself against him, even as he tried to control her by holding her legs.

Needing even more control, he pulled out of her and roughly forced her to her knees facing away from him. He entered her from behind and plunged in and out repeatedly, this time with one hand wrapped up in her hair and his other hand over her clit, diddling it and squeezit wit with thumb and forefinger. This seemed to help and the rhythm steadied, as she was free to slam her arse back hard over his genitals. At such a pace, they couldn’t keep going for veryg ang and, as she clamped her muscles around him, milking him, he felt himself let go and give into his orgasm. He couldn’t resist biting her shoulder in the passion of the moment. She came a few seconds later.

The stormy lovemaking over, he cradled her in his arms. Even then she sd and and moved against him. Sensing that she needed further release, he finger fucked her until she came again and then again. She kissed his chest and licked off the salty perspiration. Finally sleep overtook her.

Severus lay in the dark with the wild woman at long last resting peacefully. He had never understood the opposite sex. Even less, he understood the agitated need for sexual release that she had demonstrated that night. It scared him a bit to be with someone as passionate as she had been. He couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like to be in love with a woman like her.


A/N: Many thanks to my reviewers: Wendynat, Lalaith, Serenbel, NegativeNine and LittleBird.