Severus was still charging through the corridors towards Eri, his robe snapping at his heels, when a voice broke his concentration.

"Severus?" It was Minerva, a wrinkled hand held out to him. "Has something… happened?"

"Everything is fine." He drew himself up to his full height, his expression solidifying into disdain.

"Come to my quarters, have a tipple." She smiled, adjusting the tartan blanket around her shoulders. "I always find it a bit tricky to sleep with the students arriving soon. I keep thinking of all the things that might go wrong, and the worries just circle in my head like vultures. It'll do us both some good to have some company."

Severus looked behind him, towards the Room of Requirement, where he knew the mirror waited, and felt the prickle of anticipation work its way up his spine. Minerva was his boss - and more than that, she was trying to be friendly. As much as his skin itched to be alone, with her… the mirror wasn't going to move. He would be back later.

Surprisingly, and rather shamefully, this was the first time Severus had been inside the Head Mistress' quarters since she'd taken over the position. He'd suspected it would be all garishly red and gold, a true eyesore, but it was surprisingly dull - a forest green and crimson tartan blanket stretched out over a brown sofa, elements of blue and yellow picked out around the room in pops of colour. For a moment, Severus' eyes were glued to the writing desk, where there was no house emblem above her desk, for the first time in Severus couldn't count how many years.

She smirked at his expression. "I rather think a Head should be independent of all that House rubbish. Dumbledore, bless him," her features softened into a fond smile, "I think that was one of his greatest failings. He put House above person, above his position."

Severus reflexively checked that Dumbledore wasn't listening - but the portrait snored peacefully.

"It looks good," he cleared his throat, painfully aware of how awkward he sounded. "Cozy."

"I try." She waved him in the direction of the sofa, bringing out two crystal glasses from an understated brown cabinet in the corner. She carried a large glass bottle out, next, and poured a healthy amount of amber liquid into both. "I must admit, I hate the taste of alcohol once someone's used magic to carry it. Food, too. There's a reason elf-made wine wins every time."

The logo made Severus start, suddenly uneasy. Lucius had been fond of quoting that, too, though his politics were very different from Minerva's own. The hair on the back of his head seemed to stand to attention as his mind quickly and carefully ran through all the possibilities. Coincidence, an attempt to trick him, a flag that she knew Lucius - could she be acting in his interests?

"Is it anything you want to talk about?" Her brogue cut through his panicked thoughts and dragged him back to the present.

In an effort to keep himself calm - and sane - Severus picked up the heavy glass and swirled the liquid. It smelt divine, of comfort and growing up too fast and heady summer nights. "No."

"Well," she stared at him for a few moments, and Severus wondered uneasily if the Headmaster's skills of legimancy had transferred down to her. "Not to worry. I'm sure it will sort itself out." The reassurance was clumsy on her tongue. He wondered whether she might be remembering the way she wielded her wand at him, sharpening her tongue as he tried to save the students from the madness that descended around them, cursing him for a traitor.

He put the glass down, uncomfortable underneath his many buttons. They pulled tightly at his throat and he swallowed, feeling trapped.

"Headmistress?" a shout through the Floo. Severus recognised the voice subconsciously and fair flew through the room to the fireplace, all his senses prickling.

"Hermione? What is?"

"Oh, Severus! Thank goodness you're there." The stress in her voice chased away any joy those words could have brought - Severus filed them away to come back to later, once the danger had passed. "I… Can I come through?"

"Of course," Minerva said, fetching another glass.

Hermione tumbled through the flames, looking for all the world like she'd been dragged out of bed. Her hair, which had been so stylishly arranged yesterday, was once more wild about her head, matted and unbrushed. Her clothes - jeans and a t-shirt - were wrinkled. Her eyes were wild, and pink.

"Did he do it again?" Minerva asked. Mutely, Hermione nodded, biting at her lip. "There, there now. Drink this."

Severus felt a rage growing from deep inside his stomach, a ball of anger and fire that anyone would bring Hermione - the confident, gentle, helpful Hermione - to the edge of tears. "What is going on?" he demanded, each word sharply defined.

Minerva looked at Hermione, who was gulping down the strong liquid, and squeezed her hand. "Hermione's boss is having some difficulty-"

"Martin is a sexist pig who needs to have his testicles surgically removed." Hermione interrupted. "He seems to think I'll be ready and willing to work hard, no matter what time it is. And it's true, to a point, but then he steals any ideas I have and I'm-" she wilted. "just. so. done."

"I've told you before, there is always a job here for you."

"I know," Hermione wiped a hand down her face. "And that's very sweet of you. But I… I need this job. It makes me feel as though I can make a difference."

"What exactly is it that you do?" Severus' rage had subsided now that Hermione was talking, although he still wanted to wrap her in his robe and protect her, coddle her away. She wouldn't want that, though. She'd want him to stay as far away from her as humanly possible.

"I'm in charge of education reform." She took a shuddering breath, and Severus realised he'd taken several steps back towards the sofa, was brushing the back of it with his long fingertips, and froze in place. Hermione's voice had faded, and she seemed lost in though, oblivious to Severus standing right behind her shoulder.

"Go on," he drawled. A shudder chased through Hermione's shoulders as she dragged herself back to the present, and Severus took a step to the side, suddenly realising he'd been subconciously behaving as a professor would, looming, demanding obedience. Not the best way to start a friendship.

"I was leading an initiative to have more options than just Hogwarts. It's a beautiful school, but not all children can leave their parents for extended periods of time. We were experimenting with home studies for most of the subjects, and doing much smaller, focused groups for children with learning difficulties or special needs. But then Martin-" her jaw clenched. "He stole it and he ruined it. He wants to market it as a way to keep the purebloods separated. I only just found out when he passed me his notes to distribute before the meeting tomorrow. He's taken my data and he's going to use it-"

She deflated, as though the words had been the helium keeping her upright. Cautiously, Severus extended a hand and squeezed her shoulder, half jumping backwards at the feel of how tense she was underneath his hand.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have brought department business-" Hermione shook herself. "This doesn't affect my report on your fitness to teach. There were no complaints around the interview. I know you must have better things to be doing with your time."

When she smiled up at him, those brown eyes swimming in pink, his heart crackled. "No, it's… acceptable. And it seems to have helped you to… vent."

Her pink eyes crinkled at the corners in something half-resembling a determined smile. Suddenly his skin itched all over. Half of him wanted to go to her, to hold her, comfort her with his skin against her own, show how much he cared. The feeling was overwhelming, crackling across his skin like an electric shock, singing the hair on his arms. He knew that to do so would be to be rejected, to force Hermione into something she didn't want - and the thought repulsed him.

Suddenly, he needed to be somewhere he was wanted, where he knew what the other person would do - this was too much, far too much.

Severus swung abruptly towards the door, his robes swirling around him as he threw words over his shoulder. "I will leave you both now. Thank you, Minerva, for the drink. Miss Granger."

With an awkward nod he was back in the corridor, marching his way to the Room of Requirement, those magical doors that would give him exactly what he needed. Cursing himself for a fool.

Hermione might be real, but what he needed was an evening with Eri. Predictable, trusting, open Eri.

He wrenched the doors open, but the room was bone cold and nearly empty - no armchair, no book, no tea.

The mirror was still there, though, and that was all that mattered. He found himself kneeling down before it like a supplicant, begging, pleading for it to show him what he needed.

Eri was there, her curls dangling over her shoulders, a book slipping from her grasp. His Eri, in a way that Hermione was not. In a way that nobody could ever be.

And yet… there was something missing. Miss Granger had far more energy, far more life in her than this pale reflection did. He had never heard Eri's voice, whilst he could never seem to keep Hermione from speaking.

It was… It was like a book without its middle pages, like a jigsaw puzzle with missing pieces.

Curses and damnation. This wasn't fair. He'd finally achieved a degree of happiness, a degree of… of contentment. His life with Eri wasn't much, but it had been the closest to acceptance Severus had ever been and she'd become his everything, and now… It felt as though she'd been torn away from him, even while she lay there, breathing in the soft afternoon light, a book on her lap.

He knew without needing to test it that the enchantment of the Mirror was over. He didn't want the mirror, he didn't want this shallow Eri. He wanted his beautiful, lively, happy Eri, even if she could never want him back. He wanted Miss Granger's tears, and career struggles, and the messy reality that came with her and her miserable two best friends. He wanted something real.

But he could never hope to have with Hermione what he'd shared with Eri. She was young, innocent, powerful. In comparison, Severus was washed-up, a has-been. Hell, he'd even stopped bothering to contribute to the Potions field, knowing that his name alone would bar his research. The few vials he worked on at home were for his own problems - and why would Hermione want a selfish, used up, traitorous man when she had turned down any number of cretins.

Maybe she was gay. Or asexual. Or just. not. interested.

Severus' hands curled into fists at his side and he smashed his forehead into the carpet, groaning. Months and years stretched before him, empty, emotionless years, with only his tense friendship with Minerva and the grudging, wine-soaked conversations with Dumbledore's portrait to look forward to. No more sitting, reading with Eri, trusted and trusting. Without this balm, was life worth living? What had he survived for, suffered for, for all these years? He'd fought and suffered for years, knowing that he would die, only to have a happy ending thrust into his lap. She'd been more than enough for him, more than he deserved, and now she'd been wrenched away.

But no - he'd survived without Eri before, in those lonely years before Minerva's letter. He'd kept himself away, renounced the habit. He'd been… content. He could still be content. Couldn't he?


AN: Thank you very much for all the cookies and support!