Mirrored Measures

Harry Potter Snapped Up!

"Oh. I can assure you that it will be a most memorable location," was her only comment.

"Ugh. The Daily Prophet seriously needs a new editor," Hermione muttered.

"Are you sure that's clear enough, Hermione?" Harry asked. "It's a bit vague about where we're going to be. I know he's a Slytherin, but isn't that cutting the subtle edge a bit fine?"

"It's fine. One of Rita's cameramen is a Death Eater," she said, waving a hand. "We just had to make the fact that you would be doing the photo shoot public so that Voldie wouldn't get suspicious. You know how Rita loves to brag about that sort of thing. And anyway, it's probably best not to have too many onlookers at Godric's Hollow. It'll be safer than way."

"Okay, then." Harry nodded, and he ran a hand through his hair. He looked tired, Hermione thought. This couldn't be over for him soon enough. He deserved to live a blandly normal life, although Hermione despaired of him ever getting that lucky; he was living his parents' legacy.

Ron snickered at the photograph accompanying the excruciatingly written article. "Well I hope the photographs come out better than this one."

Harry's smile was pained at best, and his gaze shifted to the cauldron in the corner of the kitchen. Insubstantial wisps coiled upwards towards the high, narrow window where they diffused lazily into the light.

~oOo~

Severus looked faintly nauseated by the disgustingly flowery drivel that had slipped past the dunderhead of an editor.

"Are they stupid?" Draco asked incredulously. "Surely they know the Dark Lord is just waiting for an opportunity like this?"

"Nothing changes," Severus said acerbically. As far as bait went, it was vintage Potter. "It's a typically arrogant blunder," he said dismissively. "Potter loves the limelight. Even mortal peril wouldn't keep him from his adoring fans." Half-truth mingled in acidly with half-lies.

"Okay, then," Draco said, and he ran a hand through his hair. He looked drawn and tired, Severus thought. Perhaps one too many Obliviates lately. Witnessing torture at the Death Eater meetings wasn't child's play either. He deserved to live an easy, unprejudiced life, although Severus doubted that Draco's life would ever be the same again; he was living his parents' legacy.

Draco poked a slim finger at Harry's photograph. "Well I hope the photographs come out better than this one."

Severus's smile was pained at best, and his gaze shifted to the cauldron in the corner of the kitchen. Green-gray smoke crawled up the wall and slid sullenly along the ceiling, hovering ominously above their heads like a dark omen.

"It's absolutely perfect," Hermione said delightedly. She felt perfectly brilliant and euphoric.

After the final stir there had been a long, anticipatory moment before golden globules began to leap up from the metallic surface to tumble in a continual, glittering juggler's dance.

"You're brilliant, Hermione," Harry said.

"Don't touch it," Hermione said sharply, and she grabbed Ron's wrist. "You'll ruin it."

The Trio stood around the shimmering cauldron, smiling faces lit in the buttery, golden reflectance.

"This is an amazingly good omen," Ron said, grinning from ear to ear.

"I can't believe I got it right. The timing was so horribly tricky, and the instructions were so ambiguous!" She slid an arm around each man-boy's waist, and the Golden Trio huddled closer around their golden miracle.

~oOo~

"It's an unmitigated fucking disaster," Severus said sourly. One of his own making, admittedly, but he hated to look like a dunderhead.

The potion sat heavily in the cauldron, its dull metallic lustre entirely unexceptional.

Amazing what one extra stir can do, Severus thought as he mentally tallied the wasted Galleons.

"Isn't it supposed to be moving?" Draco asked.

"Don't touch it," Severus said sharply, and he grabbed Draco's wrist. "It's likely toxic."

They stood staring at the cauldron, faces grim and arms crossed. Draco still looked rather bemused that Snape hadn't managed to manufacture Felix Felicis for the Dark Lord.

"This is not a good thing," Draco said, wincing at Snape's imagined punishment.

"It's not an easy potion to perfect. The timing is disgustingly tricky, and the instructions are deceptively ambiguous."

Draco uncrossed his arms, gave Snape a tentative look of pity as he fidgeted nervously, and then crossed them again.

"Well done, Hermione."

Severus' words and his accompanying smile lingered with Hermione as she prepared for what would be Voldemort's last breathing hours.

She smiled to herself as she braided her hair. A parallelogram of light fell neatly on her desk, shimmering and glittering off the minuscule bottles of liquid luck. She swallowed the contents of one bottle...a conflagration of golden hope and optimism burned through her nerves and prickled at her fingertips.

"Whatever happens, Hermione, I am privileged to have come to know you."

She could hear Harry and Ron in their respective rooms-–the thump of Ron's footsteps, the banter exchanged to soothe their nerves. She smiled fondly. Soon enough their own golden confidence would make them feel invincible like this.

"Come what may, I'll see you at Stonehenge at noon."

Hermione felt a warm tug of excitement. He loved her too. She was positive about that fact now.

She fastened her leather wand brace to her forearm and flexed her arm experimentally. She slid her wand into the brace and turned to look in the mirror. She smiled, and a warrior smiled back.

She reached out a hand to touch the painting. They stood palm to palm, separated by hundreds of kilometres. So close in heart, separated by so much.

~oOo~

"Thank you, Severus."

Hermione's words and her beautiful smile lingered with Severus as he prepared for the day which would hold his darkest master's last fetid breath.

He smiled to himself as he smoothed his hated Death Eater robes. With grim determination, he swallowed the contents of a row of potion bottles. One had to be prepared to stopper death on a daily basis, after all. The mixture of potions gave him a near constant headache and made his skin and hair unbearably greasy. Better a greasy git than dead, though, perhaps.

The last of the bottles...one added to his daily dose just this once...gleamed and flickered warmly in the grey light. It had been delivered that morning in an unremarkable package via the Muggle post.

"And I'm glad to have met you, too, Severus."

The house was eerily silent. Draco was Stunned and bound. The enchantments would dissolve that evening if Severus didn't make it home. The thought took a handful of his stomach and twisted viciously, quickly relieved by a glimmer of undiluted optimism. Brooding was impossible with Felix glittering in his veins, it seemed.

"I'll see you then." Face-to-face, without a protective veneer of varnish and an unlikely and sarcastic painted chaperone.

Severus felt a golden hum of apprehension...for the first time he knew that she returned his regard, his love.

He slid his wand up his sleeve and turned to look in the mirror. He smirked, and a hopeful man smiled in return.

He reached out a hand to touch hers. Standing palm to palm separated by hundreds of kilometres, he'd never felt closer to another person before.