Mirrored Morning

Her eyes drifted open. The enticing aroma of frying bacon and the echoes of spirited laughter drifting up the stairs indicated that she'd slept later than usual. She groaned and pulled her sheet...soft cotton scented with apples and sunshine...over her head, closing her eyes for a moment.

Sighing softly with resignation at the inevitability of facing the day, she slipped off the bed to stand on the shaggy rug that covered polished floorboards and yawned open-mouthed. It had been a while since she'd slept quite that well; largely due to the enormous sense of relief she'd felt yesterday when Harry and Ron had returned with a Horcrux in hand.

She gazed out over the back garden as she dressed slowly, lingering absentmindedly over each button. A soft smile graced her features momentarily as she admired the colourful, cheering summer flowers before it faded and a frown wrinkled her forehead.

She chewed her inner cheek and thought about their status quo. Three Horcruxes...in addition to Voldemort himself...remained. The high of yesterday's triumph had already faded for her. The anxiety returned in full force and concern laid siege to her mind. Renewed tension crept up her spine and settled in her shoulders.

She moved downstairs, gathering her hair into an untidy ponytail as she stepped into the kitchen. Harry and Ron looked up from their scrutiny of the golden cup when they heard her footsteps. Hufflepuff's cup had taken pride of place at the centre of the kitchen table during their celebratory dinner. They both grinned at her, looking impossibly boyish and carefree. "Morning, boys," she said, unable to resist smiling.

"Morning, sleepyhead," said Harry, waving at her, spatula in hand. He turned back to the stove to turn the bacon. "Breakfast is almost ready."

"Oh, good, I'm starving." Ron peered over his shoulder excitedly and Hermione rolled her eyes. Ron was always starving. He was starting to develop a little paunch too, from the continued snacking that he did, now that they were out of school.

Hermione sat and stared at the cup, wondering where bloody Voldemort had hidden the rest of the Horcruxes. She smiled absently at Harry when he put a plate of bacon, eggs and toast before her. "Thanks, Harry." He really had been a good sport about cooking. Ron was useless, and she hated it, so Harry had assumed that responsibility.

"We need to find a way to destroy the soul that's trapped in there," she said pointedly between bites, "and we need to find the other Horcruxes. Any ideas yet?" She looked up expectantly.

Ron rolled his eyes. "Hermione, give us a break." He shovelled another enormous forkful of food into his mouth. Hermione felt a bit nauseous and looked at Harry instead. He was the more responsible one; he'd back her up. Harry feigned ignorance.

Turning back to Ron, she glared at him as he swallowed his mouthful down with pumpkin juice. "Do you think that Voldemort is going to give us a break?" she said snidely.

"Ah, come on, Hermione, obviously we don't think that," Harry complained. "But we've just found the cup, and we just want a rest." He gave her a guilty look. "Ron and I are going to play Quidditch at the Burrow today with his brothers. You're invited too. They're having a picnic or something."

Hermione stood, pushing her chair away from the table. "Well fine, you do what you want...I am going to carry on with my research." Ignoring their protestations of innocence, she stomped upstairs and into the study that she'd set up. She slammed the door behind her loudly.

Didn't they realise that it wasn't a game? You couldn't just switch a war on and off. And why was she always the one to have to remind them that they had work to do. She'd thought that after Dumbledore's death, Harry would be slightly more focussed, but he seemed to have lost that intense edge after a few weeks.

"There's bloody three more Horcruxes plus Voldemort left," she muttered as she tugged the desk drawer open to retrieve a quill. "And what do Harry and Ron want to do? They want to play sodding Quidditch."

"Wrong, Miss Big Brains. There are TWO Horcruxes plus Voldemort left," sneered a haughty voice from behind her, causing her to start and slap a hand to her chest with surprise.

His eyes snapped open. The nauseating stench of burnt toast and the echoes of spiteful bickering drifting up the stairs indicated that he'd slept later than usual. He groaned and pulled his sheet...stiffly starched, worn cotton reeking of mothballs...over his head, closing his eyes for a moment.

Muttering with resentment at the inevitability of facing the day, he crawled out of bed to stand on the threadbare rug that covered the age-worn floorboards and sighed wearily. It had been a while since he'd slept for more than three hours, largely due to the enormous sense of foreboding and pressure he'd felt since after Dumbledore's death when Pettigrew and Draco had taken up residence. But, they'd been useful yesterday, returning with a Horcrux in hand.

He glanced out over the back garden, and then dressed quickly, concentrating on fastening each button. A slight frown crossed his features when he saw the overgrown, neglected flowerbeds, and it intensified so the deep lines on his forehead were wrinkled.

He traced his lower lip with one finger and thought about his status quo. Three Horcruxes...in addition to Voldemort himself...remained. The satisfaction of yesterday's acquisition had already faded for him. The anxiety returned in full force and concern laid siege to his mind. Renewed tension crept up his spine and settled in his shoulders.

He moved downstairs, tucking his oily hair behind his ears as he stepped into the kitchen. Pettigrew and Draco looked up from their scrutiny of the bronze box when they heard his footsteps. Ravenclaw's Horcrux had been temporarily hidden in the kitchen cupboard last night after dinner. They both looked guiltily at him, looking absolutely pathetic. "I should have known," he sneered, unable to resist scowling at them.

"Morning, Professor," said Draco, hastily rising and smoothing his robes. He turned to the toaster to retrieve the toast. "Breakfast is ready, sir."

"Oh, good, I'm starving." Peter peered over his shoulder excitedly and Snape rolled his eyes. Peter was always starving. He was starting to develop a little paunch too, from the continued snacking that he did, now that he was out from under Voldemort's constant supervision.

Severus sat and stared at the box, wondering where bloody Voldemort had hidden the rest of the Horcruxes. He nodded absently at Draco when he put a plate of baked beans and toast before him. "Beans again, Draco?" He really was a most unimaginative cook. Peter was useless, and he hated it, so Draco had been handed that responsibility.

I need to find a way to destroy the soul that's trapped in there, he thought to himself between bites, and I need to find the other Horcruxes. "Any progress on finding the cup yet?" He looked up expectantly.

Peter avoided his gaze. "Give us a break, Snape." He shovelled another enormous forkful of food into his mouth. Severus felt a bit nauseous and looked at Draco instead. He was more afraid of him; he'd give him an answer. Draco feigned ignorance.

Turning back to Peter, he glared at him as he swallowed his mouthful down with milky tea. "Do you think that the Dark Lord is going to give us a break?" he said snidely.

"Ah, come on, Professor, obviously we don't think that," Draco whined. "But we've just found the box, and we just want a rest." He gave him a pleading look. "The rat and I are going to play torture-the-Muggle at Aunt Bella's today with the rest of the crowd. You're invited too. They're having a revel or something."

Snape stood, pushing his chair away from the table, knowing that they'd just pretend to work if he insisted that they continue with their search. "Well fine, you do what you want...I am going to carry on with my research." Ignoring their chastised looks, he stalked into the living room and through into the study that he'd set wards on to keep Peter and Draco out. He slammed the door behind him loudly.

Didn't they realise that he was in charge? True, they did not know the true nature of their task, but he'd stressed that it was a secret mission from Voldemort, top secret. They were not even to talk of it to the Dark Lord himself. And yet, he always had to remind them that they had work to do. He'd thought that after Dumbledore's death, Draco would be absolutely petrified and obedient, but he seemed to have lost that shadowed look after a few weeks.

"There's bloody three more Horcruxes plus Voldemort left," he muttered as he tugged the desk drawer open to retrieve a quill. "And what do Pettigrew and Malfoy want to do? They want to play with sodding Muggles."

"Wrong, Severus Snape. There are TWO Horcruxes plus Voldemort left," sneered a haughty voice from behind him, causing him to freeze in place, his eyebrows raised in surprise.