Mirrored Tranquillity

Chapter 3

Mirrored Tranquillity

Disclaimer: Severus and Hermione most definitely belong to J.K. Rowling.

Hermione sat in the drawing room of number twelve, Grimmauld Place. She sat comfortably with her feet curled up under her, reading a very engrossing romance novel about a writer and her quest to make her handsome agent fall madly in love with her. Perhaps she was enjoying it far more than she necessarily would have under more normal circumstances, because it was so disconnected from her current reality, a blissful escape. The wan autumn sunlight streamed in feebly through the double-glazed windows, lighting the homely room with a honeyed glow. Dobby and Kreacher had been exceptionally busy of late—Harry was of the opinion that the busier Kreacher was kept, the better—and all the rooms were spotless.

She was taking a much-needed break from research while Harry and Ron were out on their continuing search for the elusive Horcruxes. Three months had passed since they had left Hogwarts, and their search had been fruitless thus far. The frustration and anxiety of carrying out and keeping their secret weighed heavily on all of them at times. They had some nerve-grating moments, but their friendship was established and tested. Hermione trusted Harry and Ron implicitly.

She finished the chapter, laughing softly at the unlikely antics that the writer had employed to attract her agent’s attention. If such antics did work, and you snagged your man, he would invariably disappoint you in some way. She sighed, trying not to think of her failed attempt at a romance with Ron. She stood up to pour a cup of tea from the delicate tea service, ever-present on the dresser. She noticed the new Daily Prophet on the dresser as well. She decided that she might as well catch up on the news now; it would not do to be uninformed, no matter how intensely the misinformation annoyed her. She moved slowly to sit back down, sipping her tea and scanning the headlines.

She glanced at the main picture on the top half of the front page and flicked past that immediately; some idiot photographer had snapped them during a much-needed grocery shopping expedition. She looked anxious and annoyed in the photograph, an accurate reflection. The article would invariably include some blather about threesomes and speculate wildly about the perceived incompetence of Harry Potter. She skipped to the lower half of the front page, where she stopped to gaze at the familiar photograph of Severus Snape: Wanted Criminal. She touched the sneering photograph lightly and sighed. Before she could think too much about the man that occupied her daily musings far too often, she heard the front door open with a bang.

“Hermione!” Ron’s excited shout was three octaves higher than usual. “Hermione, we've found it!”

Severus sat in the living room of his home on Spinner’s End. He sat comfortably with his long legs stretched out in front of him, reading a very intriguing theory about coercion magic. Perhaps he was enjoying it far more than he necessarily would have under more normal circumstances, because it was his own research, disconnected from his current reality as a spy, a welcome escape. The threadbare curtains shut out all sunlight that could have warmed the stark, shadowed room. It seemed that Wormtail was neglecting his duties again—Severus continued to delight in treating the disgusting little man like a glorified maid—a thin layer of dust covered most surfaces.

He was taking a much-needed break from brewing while Draco and Peter were out working on the task that he had assigned them. Unknowingly, they were aiding in his search for the one Horcrux that he knew the young Gryffindors would never find. In the three months since he had fled Hogwarts, his search had yielded nothing. He was close though to discovering where she had hidden it. The frustration and anxiety of directing the search and keeping his secret was detrimental to the atmosphere in the house. He was more easily annoyed now, his temper hair-trigger. Draco’s continued whining and Peter’s sycophantic grovelling irritated him immensely. He would rather live alone, but conceded that he required their unwitting help. There was absolutely no hint of friendship between the three men, and he spoke only to give terse commands. Severus didn’t trust Draco or Peter at all. In fact, Severus trusted nobody but himself.

He finished the chapter, snorting with disdain at the unlikely conclusion that the obviously deluded author had reached. If the idiot’s method worked at all, and your target was rendered susceptible to your will, the effect would invariably fade within hours. He sighed, trying not to despair at the obvious lack of insight into the mechanics of spell weaving. He stood up to pour a cup of tea from the chipped tea service on the table, first cleaning the cup meticulously. He noticed the new Daily Prophet on the table as well. He decided that he might as well peruse the news now; it would not do to be uninformed, no matter that the propaganda angered him to near boiling point. He sat back down and sipped at his tea as he scanned the headlines.

He glanced at his picture on the lower half of the front page and flipped the paper over immediately. It was the same photograph that they had been using since Albus’ death. He knew that he looked condescending and angry in the photograph, an accurate reflection. The two-line article beneath the photograph would invariably appeal to the public to watch out for the evil, Dark wizard. Skipping to the upper half of the front page, he stopped to gaze at a new photograph of Harry, Ron and Hermione. He watched as her tiny likeness bit her lower lip, and he sighed. Before he could think too much about the woman that occupied his mind far too often, he heard the front door open with a squeak.

“Sir,” Draco’s smooth drawl was self-satisfied and accompanied by a satisfied smirk. “Sir, I think I’ve found it!”