It\'s All Done With Mirrors

A/N: This fic is Completed. Many thanks to all those who have, and are continuing (to my delight!) to read and review.
Blessings, Kait

Chapter One
Situations Vacant

Chez Nous, London, August 2010

My eyes felt sticky and gritty from the tears of rage and misery I had cried for most of the night. Fearing the dreaded eyelash-stabbing-the-eyeball agony that rubbing them would inevitably bring, I walked, eyes closed, across the familiar carpet into the bathroom to wash my face.

Last night had been completely and utterly wretched. His insensitive remarks and boorish actions had once again ruined my evening. I sniffed as I stood before the bathroom sink and turned on the hot tap.

As the water spluttered into the basin with its usual \'trickle bang gush burp trickle\' I drummed the vanity surround in a morose counterpoint, and inhaled a tendril of coppery-smelling steam that began curling up from the sink and around my face like a small, writhing serpent.

~ Serpent... ~ a silky voice breathed inside my mindAh, Ah, now, there\'s a creature. Lithe, slithery, sensual, gliding into intimate places. ~

I felt the warmth of the steam as it bathed my face, and a sensation I had thought was long dead within me began swirling in my belly. I ran my hand down along the edge of my dressing gown, fingers sliding under the satin to skim across my skin.

~ Yessssss ~ the voice hissed, as I felt the slippery wetness between my legs. I gasped, partly from the sensations my fingers were sending coursing through my body, and partly because the voice sounded so darned sexy.

I could feel my face grow hot, and not just because of the steam enveloping it like caressing hands. My fingers were moving faster, gliding over my aching centre.

~ You\'re so close ~ the voice whispered, and I dimly heard it murmur an approving noise as I began to experience my first orgasm in years.

\"Ooohhhhhhhhhhhh...Ouch! Bugger!!\"

The basin had overfilled and a curtain of hot water drenched my feet. I let out an undignified croak, rather like a startled frog. My toes throbbed with pain as I turned off the tap and reached around blindly for a towel. I swore, I have to admit, both picturesquely and copiously.

~ Your own fault entirely, I believe. ~

In my head, the voice almost glistened with its voluptuous tones.

~ If you had been concentrating on the task at hand, instead of indulging in silly adolescent fantasies, you would - ~

\"Oh, do shut up,\" I scolded. I wasn\'t in the mood to be chastised by a bloody inner voice. \"Who do you think you are, anyway?\"

\"Hermy?\"

Oh, bugger. He\'s awake.

\"Hermy, are you talking to me?\"

I plunged both hands into the sink, ignoring the plaintive chuntering from the bedroom, and preventing any further exchange with the idiot in the bed by making lots of nice splashing noises as I washed my face. My eyes were soon free of their salty stickiness, and I blinked a couple of times. The glass of the mirror was now cloudy with s, so, so I couldn\'t make a proper analysis of its reflection,\'but then again\', I thought sadly, \'it doesn\'t really matter any more, does it?\' Not for about twelve years, it hadn\'t.

Long ago, there had been a man...a man who had taken me by the shoulders, had stood behind me and had lovingly caressed my naked body in front of an enormous silver-framed mirror. He had bid me look, had called out to me to continue to watch, even when my eyelids felt compelled to close in ecstasy. He had shown me that true beauty lives in the eyes - the windows of the soul, he had said. Without love, I realised later, when it was too late, the eyes grew dull.

So I had stopped looking in mirrors a long time ago.

Lifting a finger, I began absently to trace a curving pattern on the surface of the glass. Carving into the velvety steam with the light touch of skin, slowly revealing the tones of mir, ir, of cinnamon and toffee, in the shape of two parallel swirls,ch lch looked rather like -

\"No.\"

I wiped the steam from the mirror with the back of my hand, turned away from the basin and made to leave the bathroom, but the velvet voice inside my head brought me to an abrupt halt.

~Rather like two letter S\'s. But, if you prefer, a pair of snakes.~


+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*


I really did have work to do that day. Dismissing the scene in the bathroom as the product of a fertile mind living a mundane existence, and not as the first step towards a lifetime vacation at St Mungo\'s, I crept back into the bedroom and began to pull on my clothes. I cast an anxious glance at the bed, but I was used to silent exits. The lump beneath the bedclothes occasionally uttered a deep and sonorous snore, followed by the unmistakable sound of grinding teeth.

\'How utterly charming\', I thought, rolling my eyes heavenward.

And if my parents knew how he was ruining all the work they had done on his molars, they would very likely send him packing the next time he showed up at their surgery for porcelain caps, the utter sod.

I pulled on my coat, and grabbed my satchel by the strap. I had had enough of this for one day!

Oh damn.

It was too late to cast a Silencing charm. The contents of the bag crashed to the floor, as I stared in horror, holding in my hand only a broken leather shoulder strap. Books, quills, a pot of purple ink and about twenty rolls of parchment lay on the scarlet shag-pile.

The lump in the bed stopped mid-snore. I slid my wand from my sleeve, pointed it at the untidy pile and quietly muttered \"Reverso\" - the items leaped back into the bag - and then with a \"Reparo\", my ancient satchel attached itself to the strap I was still holding. Too late to sneak out unnoticed, though.

\"Hermy?\"

\"Yeah?\" It took a supreme effort not to groan as he sat up and squinted at me with a pair of bloodshot eyes.

\"Give us a kiss then.\" Wonderful.

I dragged my feet as I went to perform my conjugal duty.


+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*
Diagon Alley, August 2010


Never let it be said that I don\'t admit it when I have made a stupid decision. I do, I do. I fully admit it. I normally just refrain from admitting it to anyone but myself. And as I stood in front of Flourish & Blotts, in Diagon Alley, I was in fact silently admonishing myself.

If I wasn\'t such a stupid witch, I would have replaced this satchel years ago. I would then have managed to escape from the house without having to endure ghastly morning sex with my oaf of a husband, I would not have been late for work again, would not have been unceremoniously fired. Would not be standing in front of a shop in Diagon Alley, would not be reading the Situations Vacant cards in the window. Again.

As usual, I charmed the cards to read aloud to me, starting at the top left and finishing at the Bottom right, as it\'s the only way I know I won\'t miss out on a Golden Opportunity. Yeah, right. The only opportunities ever advertised on these boards were crappy little part-time jobs, and the wages were only ever just enough to cover the rent and bills. Which with my status was about all I deserved. The auto-reading Charm made an impatient throat-clearing noise, so I stopped bitching to myself and listened.

\"Willing Witch Wanted.\"

\'That could be me,\' I thought.

\"To administer to the needs of three mature Wizards...\"

I wondered if we were talking bedbaths, or blowjobs. \'Either way,\' I decided, \'no thanks.\'

\"Next, please,\" I spoke aloud.

\"Opportunity Squibs! Magic-Enhancement Charms! Testers Required! Please owl Pansy Malfoy...\"

No way. I contemplated going to tip-off the Ministry about this. Pansy, the evil cow, was evidently still performing sick and illegal experiments on unforte Sqe Squibs. The only reason she hadn\'t been rumbled by now was because she\'d married Draco Malfoy.

\"Next, please.\"

\"Sensible Wizard\" -

\'Or Witch,\' I interjected in my thoughts, somewhat irritated.

Honestly, did we still have to deal with thoughtless sexism in this day and age?

- \"Required, holding a minimum of 4 NEWT qualifications, preferably Arithmancy, DADA, Potions, Charms and/or Transfiguration.\"

I liked the sound of that.

\"Please note that Divination will NOT be considered as a qualification.\"

I really liked the sound of that.

\"The successful applicant will undergo a period of apprenticeship, lasting three years.\"

\'Bugger,\' I thought dismally. \'So no actual wage, then.\'

\"The apprenticeship will be residential, and on a full-time basis.\"

\'Bugger damn. No point in reading on, is there?\' I began to motion the auto-reading charm to skip to the next advertisement, but then decided against it, thinking, \'Oh, sod it, might as well finish. Coul a g a goer for Harry, maybe, that is, if he\'s seriously deciding to retire from Professional Quidditch this year.\'

\"On completion of the apprenticeship the successful applicant will receive three years salary at Teaching Rate as back pay, and will enter into a Contract of Employment lasting no fewer than thirty years.\"

What was this job?

\"Hopeful applicants will submit their curriculum vitae by owl, to\" -

Oh, Gods.

\"Professor S. Snape, Deputy Headmaster, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.\"


+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*
The Leaky Cauldron, August 2010


I was glad that the Leaky Cauldron was open. Because it was the last two weeks in August, and the whole length of Diagon Alley was roiling with excited children.

Plus, I had to admit, I couldn\'t really concentrate properly after reading the advertisement for the vacancy at Hogwarts. But I did manage to commandeer Mr Flourish\'s House Elf into write the salient details of the remaining 237 vacancies on a few rolls of parchment and deliver them to me in the snug bar of the best pub in Wizarding London. Tom, bless him, handed me a firewhiskey as soon as he saw my face, and then, bless him twice, left me alone to sit, and sip in silence.

Snape as Deputy Headmaster. Merlin\'s teeth! Whatever next? Hagrid as Broomstick Mistress? I smiled warmly, thinking of dear Hagrid, whom I had not seen for twelve years. I knew he had kept in touch with Harry, but I had been too busy mourning my lot to even owl him at Christmas. Warmth turns to guilt, really quickly. How could I have just dropped everyone like that? It took two years to return after I...

~You ran away.~

Oho, that voice was back then. Old silky tongue. I sipped my firewhiskey and stared moodily down at the highly polished surface of the bar top. A dark face stared moodily back up at me. Childishly, I bent close enough to kiss it...but instead breathed hard on the bar, thus obscuring my reflection.

\"Mistress?\" It was Honky, Flourish\'s House Elf. \"Honky has Mistress\'s parchments for her!\"

I turned my head sideways and looked into her honest, hardworking face. Her willingness to please showed in her shining eyes. I felt an almost insurmountable urge to pick up my sun hat and place it on her head. This knocked my melancholy sideways, and I let out an immature giggle. Oh gods, remember S.P.E.W chu chuckled. Honky looked at me strangely, so I patted her head instead of dressing it in my hat, and tried to get her to take a Knut or two as payment. Bad move. Honky\'s expression soured, and she rushed off, muttering.

Now where was I? Oh yes, I was running away.

I did *not* run away. That hardly fitted the description of my departure from The Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade, on the night following our graduation. Hermione Granger does not run.

She sneaks off.


+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*+*
Graduation Party, The Three Broomsticks, Hogsmeade July 1998

She watched her fellow graduates as they sat, relaxed and happy, celebrating with Rosemerta\'s best firewhiskey. Minerva McGonnagal sat sipping Gillywater with Albus Dumbledore, even tiny Professor Flitwick was talking animatedly to a group of Ravenclaw girls. From the gestures he was making, it seemed as if he had once caught a very big fish. The Ravenclaws were staring at him, wide-eyed and oddly flushed.

\'Whoever thought that fishing stories could be even slightly interesting\', thought Hermione idly, as she tapped a small parcel against her leg.

Hermione was finding it difficult to be patient. To be fair, she could be patient if it involved something interesting...like the long, slow processes of potion brewing. The Polyjuce potion she had made in a disused bathroom during her second year had required a month of constant vigilance and patience...

But this was different. She could feel that something was wrong.

She gave a little shake of her shoulders. Nothing will go wrong. She had planned everything! Well, maybe not everything, but...

Hermione tucked the wrapped box back into her robe sleeves, nestled against her wand. She glanced around the room once again, trying to catch someone\'s eye. Ron was nowhere to be seen, but Harry and Neville Longbottom were busy flirting with Lavender Brown and one of the Patil twins. She sighed. They were completely absorbed tonight. If she hadn\'t been waiting for someone, she would have gone over and teased them. Just like old times.

But she was expecting someone, and when he arrived, she would lead him to the garden, and ask him to open the box. Then they would come back into this room, and...

\'And what if he doesn\'t come?\' Hermione gulped.

\'He will come,\' she soothed herself. \'He will come. If he ever loved you, he will come.\'