Mirror, Mirror

Chapter Nine - A Night on the Town


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


“What did you say?” Hermione pulled herself back together and did a Reparo spell on the butter dish and tossed the now spoilt cube of butter into the dustbin.

“Nothing,” replied Snape, heading back to his dinner.

“Oh no you don’t. You did it. You created a cure for Lycanthropy. Don’t try to deny it.” She went and got some olive oil and poured it into a saucer for dipping.

“Lovely salad. Is that Balsamic vinegar you used?” Snape cursed himself. Ever since Voldemort’s death his instincts had been slipping—badly.

Hermione came out of the kitchen holding the loaf of French bread in a decidedly threatening manner. “We have to find Remus, right away. Tonight! We can save him.”

“No, we can’t.” Snape helped himself to pasta. “He’s past saving if his counterpart is any example.”

“You mean he’s dead?”

“Just married, actually.” Snape continued to eat while Hermione glared at him.

“Well?” Hermione started to pile salad on her plate.

“My wife adds capers to the sauce, you should try it.” He refused to make eye contact with her.

“You are not refusing to help me?”

“Of course, I am. I have a wife and child waiting.” He looked up, “Or did you forget that little nugget of information?”

“You’d let him die?” She tore off a chuck of bread.

“May I eat in peace, please?” Hermione stared at him. He took another bite and slammed down his fork. “Obviously, not.” He got up and headed for the fireplace.

“And just where do you think you are going?” Asked Hermione, following him.

hardhard as you are trying to do an imitation of a shrewish fishwife, it’s not going to work.” He stopped and looked her up and down. “It just won’t do.” He said gently. “It’s not some wart removing concoction. It’s one of the most complicated spells combined with potion I’ve ever seen. It took my wife and me months to create and without my notes, I can’t duplicate it.”

He took a handful of floo powder from the dish on her mantelpiece and said, “Leaky Cauldron” and Hermione jumped in front of him.

“No. You can’t do this to him. Don’t you see? This might be the reason you are here.”

“You are grasping at straws.”

“I’ll do anything. Please.” She put her hands on him and felt a surge of chemistry between them. She was surprised at the effect.

“Don’t do this. I’m married. Don’t beg, just let me leave.” Snape felt it too, and became more determined to leave.

“It’s Remus. How can you be so cold?”

“Because in my realm, he’s hale and hearty. He’s happy. Just like Black and Potter and Merlin only knows how many people. This place is blighted and it’s not my responsibility. Now stand aside.”

Hermione took a leap of faith and grabbed him and kissed him. He feebly struggled before gripping her arms and holding on to her tightly. She kissed him thoroughly, making it last, and discovered that on some level, she’d wanted to do this, but had been lacking an excuse. The revelation made her feel guilty and she pulled away.

“That was a low blow, Hermione.” He said wiping some saliva off the corner of his mouth.

“I was only patronizing you about helping you get back. But, if you work on this with me, I promise that I really will help you.”

Snape walked round to the couch and sat down. His face was impassive as he stared ahead of him, but his fingers working themselves into knots betrayed his misery. “I’m married, you know.”

She sat beside him. “I know.” And she took his hand.

“There really hasn’t been enough time to locate the book. If you force me to try to re-create the cure, sans notes, sans my wife, it might take years and Lupin would die anyway.” He glanced at her. “Why don’t you understand that it’s futile?”

“What I understand is that maybe there was a reason for you being here. Please think about it.”

“I don’t participate in weird acts of faith, thank you.”

“You have so much back where you come from. Doesn’t it make sense to share your information to help others?”

“What part of ‘it’s futile’ don’t you understand?”

“All right.” Hermione’s eyes flashed with fire. “I apologize.”

Snape went on high alert. The Hermione he knew from his own realm was never so dangerous as when she threw in the towel. It meant that she had thought of something. Slytherin versus Gryffindor-- Snape had to admit that he never got tired of the dynamic. She frustrated him and aroused him and challenged him in a way no woman ever could. But this wasn’t his wife.

“Here, what are you playing at?” he said quietly.

“I just feel ashamed that I have gone through all this bother to fix a nice meal for us, and then I went and almost ruined it-- Especially with this lovely bottle of Chianti which I need you to open.”

Snape went through the possibilities. Seduction with wine was top of the list. He licked his thin lips and stifled a groan. He may have been taken off-guard by the other Hermione, but this one? No. He was on his best behavior. There would be no further Transconveyance adultery for him.

“Very good then, Hermione. I will return to the table.” He got up, straightening his rob No. No. No amount of wine would cause him to make love to her. He was made of sterner stuff. He had nothing to fear. He took the bottle and performed a decanting spell. He smiled and handed her a glass.

&&&

Bright light was stabbing into his brain. He rolled over and found a woman’s soft body under his arm. He groaned as his head felt ready to split open. The body underneath him said, “Mfrrrfph,” and then “Get off of me.” He managed to get his body to roll just the other way.

“Is there hangover remedy?” he scraped out.

“Only enough for one, and I’m not sharing.” Suddenly the female rolled off of the bed and tore into the bathroom. Snape realized that he had probably blown his one chance at salvation and fumbled after her. Fortunately her coordination was almost as bad as his and they wound up at the medicine cabinet together.

“Confound it, woman, this is the worst possible place to keep a potion. All the warmth, the moisture… And you don’t need the whole bottle, there is plenty to share.”

He grabbed the bottle from her and popped out the cork. He sniffed cautiously first, making sure the ingredients had not turned.

“It’s not brandy you know, please give it over, my head is throbbing.” Hermione whined.

He took a careful sip, just enough to take care of the worst symptoms, and handed the bottle over. She looked at him through half-closed eyes and rubbed the lip of the bottle with her sleeve before downing the rest of the contents. They both sighed and then eyed each other in horror. He was the first to speak.

“Well, in spite of us sharing the same bed last night, we are fully dressed. Do you remember anything?”

She nodded. “It’s coming back. You felt quite certain that the cot would collapse and you would not survive it, so I very kindly agreed to let you share my bed.”

“Well, aren’t you the gem?” He turned from her. And then turned back. “We went to a Muggle nightclub last night, didn’t we?”

“Ummm.” Hermione closed her eyes and willed herself to think. Some of the cobwebs began to dissipate. “Yes, we went out clubbing. There were a few Muggle clubs, along with the Wizarding ones.”

“Did we disgrace ourselves horribly?”

She pinched her nose, and then walked into the kitchen. “Must have coffee, first. But I think we ran into several people that we knew, and yes, we did say, and maybe did, a few things… which we should not have.”

He walked to an armchair in the living room and slumped into it. “While you are at the coffee, could you do me the honor of making a pot of tea?”

“Darjeeling or green?”

“Oh, nothing green today. Please.” The potion was slowly taking effect, but it wasn’t his special home-make version. Something he muchrettretted. Then he realized that there was probably some in his room. He staggered up and headed down the tiny hallway. There was a collection of bottles on the bookshelf. He found the right vial, downed it’s contents and then…

“Mystery solved.”

“What?” Hermione called from the kitchen.

“My cot did collapse. That’s why I wound up in your bed. Horrible, tiny, cheap little affair. You can’t expect me to sleep on that thing.”

Hermione walked down the hall and looked at the now sorry excuse for kindling.

“I’m very sorry. I’m sure it would have sustained you if you hadn’t tried to—“

“Tried to what?”

“I can’t remember. Oh, there’s the coffee, it’s ready.”

“And my tea?”

“Almost.”

“What time did we get home?”

“We had breakfast around 6 AM. It’s nearly 2 PM now. Ah, I remember,” Hermione emerged from the kitchen with a steaming cup of Blue Jamaican. “Your tea is steeping. I remember. We ran into Hooch and Trelawney at the Three Broomsticks. Hooch was already completely pissed, many sheets to the wind and we all decided to head for Muggle London.”

“Oh… by… Merlin… It comes back to me now. I wish it wouldn’t. They’d both got this, this, thing for me.” He looked stricken.

Hermione blushed. It was true. “I was really surprised. Trelawney tried to cop a feel of you, didn’t she?”

“Were you all that surprised?” Snape said coldly.

“Hooch called you a Slytherin sex godow’dow’d she know? Did she know?” Hermione took another gulp of coffee, “I mean have you two been...”

“Good heavens, no. Not that it’s your business, either.”

“Did you tell your wife?” Hermione was definitely feeling better.

“Nothing ever happened! I was a Chaser on the Slytherin house team my last two years as a student at Hogwarts and she just happened on me in the locker room one day.”

Hermione started to giggle. “She did that to Ron once, too. He said he had nightmares for a week…”

He started laughing and the laughter was infectious. And then it stopped and there was a strained silence as Snape removed Hermione’s coffee cup from her hands and put it down on a table. He took her in his arms and kissed her. He didn’t stop kissing her. It was leisurely, yet passionate and her arms went up and around him in return.

He was sing ing her hair and caressing her upper arms and back. Eventually she broke away and looked up into his black eyes. “Severus, do you think we are going to…”

In response, he picked her up and carried her to her bedroom.


&&&

Harry sat down in his office. He went through the documents that had accumulated since yesterday evening from various spies and informants around the city. Saturday afternoon and the Ministry of Magic was almost deserted. He didn’t mind, he told himself. He didn’t need a life because everything he needed was right here-- his job-- kng tng the Wizarding world decent for decent people. That’s what he was raised to do, wasn’t it?

So why was he trying to help Snape? Snape wasn’t anything like what he’d think of as a decent person. Still had the dark mark on him, didn’t he? He’d never paid for the things he’d done in his Death Eater days. If it hadn’t been for Albus Dumbledore, Snape would be in Azkaban where he belonged. Dumbledore was soft, way too soft. Well, come Monday, when he had Snape in for questioning, there’d be a rude awakening. There would be nothing Dumbledorian soft about Harry then.

Harry shifted the papers and a certain reportght ght his attention. One of his men believed he’d located the wand that had cast the Imperio curse on the two wizards that had tortured Snape.

‘Well, well. It’s getting interesting, isn’t it?” said Harry to the empty office.

A/N: Big, big hugs and many thanks to my reviewers: Mel, Littlebird, Genrou, Deb, FriendlyQuark, Uscarchie and NegativeNine. As outlined, this story is nearing it’s midpoint.