The Mirror of Erised
Chapter Twenty-One
By Jewel Little Bird
"You gave her the password to my room?" Snape shouted at Filch, who had his feet propped up on his desk, obviously pleased with himself. "Whatever possessed you to do that?!"
"A number of things," the caretaker replied happily. "After all, she mentioned that you had the password to her room, so I figured it was only fair to give her yours."
"I know that's not what you were thinking, and you know I know it." Snape glared at Filch. "Why did you do it?"
Instead of answering, Filch got up and rubbed a spot of imaginary dirt from the top of the doorjamb. "You know," he said with an evil grin on his face, "When she came in here asking for the password, it was all I could do not to ask her if she wanted a tube of KY Jelly as well."
@
Five minutes later, Ginny Weasley was sitting in the Gryffindor common room, terrified out of her wits. All her brothers could get out of her was that she had seen Filch, cackling merrily and running for his life, and a murderous looking Snape, chasing after the caretaker with a pair of scissors held like a knife.
@
"Come to my room later tonight," the note said. "You know the password." Snape re-read it a fourth time. He know who it was from. He was beginning to wonder if Fleur would've said "sure" to the KYJelly offer. Having been with Voldemort, however, had taught him to always prepare for the worst. So, he had brought his wand with him, just in case.
He stood in front of the portrait that covered the entrance to her room. It was a picture of Elena the Trampy (a brown-haired witch who was barely covered and wore too much make-up), and at the moment, she was batting her eyes flirtatiously at Steven the Straightlaced, who was giving her a look that clearly said he was disgusted.
Should I go in, Snape thought, or should I go back to my room and hide beneath the bed?
He sure as hell wasn't going to hide.
He looked up and down the hall, making sure no one was looking, said the password, and entered quickly. It would be just his luck if someone saw him, especially if that someone turned out to be the Weasley twins.
Fleur stood at one of the windows, her back to him. "I was wondairing eef you would come in," she said. "It took you long enough to make up your mind."
"I have reason to be cautious, especially after the last time we had a memorable encounter."
She looked at him, finally. Her face was blank, but her eyes told him that she was angry. He couldn't guess why. "Did it 'urt?"
"I've had worse pain."
"Did it scar?"
"Yes."
"Good." She walked away from the window towards him. He moved quickly out of the way, realizing too late that she had successfully maneuvered him away from the door. She turned to face him once more. The covered mirror stood to her left. "I know what you are. Or, more precisely, were."
He shrugged. "You're not the only one."
"I want to know why."
"Why what?"
"Ze 'Eadmastair would not let you stay unless zere was a good reason for 'im to trust you. I want to know what it is."
"What if I don't tell you?"
She smiled nastily. Only then did he comprehend that she was playing with him. "Eef you don't say it, I weell."
Just when he thought he'd had her figured out, she went and did something to change his opinion of her. At the moment, it had gone up considerably. She couldn't know; she was only trying to scare him into telling her. A cautious voice in the back of his head told him never to underestimate the enemy, but he ignored it. "I don't believe you know." He crossed his arms, smirking.
"I do, but I want to 'ear it from your own mouth."
"And I say again, you don't know."
"What eef I told you zat 'Arry introduced me to a friend of 'is yesterday? A little, or rather large, dog by ze name of Black."
His grin disappeared.
"Sirius Black."
He went cold. Shit, shit, shit, shit, was all he could think.
"Ze 'Eadmastair said I could be trusted to know. A very interesting pet he was, too. Some breed called an Animagus?"
Never, ever, ever, ever underestimate the enemy, that voice in his head said smugly. Told you so.
"'E could talk, too. Told me a very good story about a rat named Peter Pettigrew, a stag named," her grin widened, "James Potter, and a very pretty little lady named Lily Potter."
She did know. He prayed for the earth to swallow him up. Nothing happened.
"ZIS Lily as a mattair of fact!" She whipped the cover off the Mirror of Erised, just as he noticed rather belatedly that he was standing directly in front of it.
Sure enough, there was Lily. He grabbed his throat, struggling to take a breath. At the moment, he hated Fleur more than he hated James, more than even Voldemort and Black.
"You went to ze 'Eadmastair because you knew Lily was in dangair," Fleur's voice continued maliciously. "You 'oped zat in doing so, you'd save 'er life, but you were too late. Sirius 'ad already talked James into making Peter ze Secret Keeper, and from zat moment on, Lily's fate was sealed. You'd always loved 'er, even zough she didn't love you, and you wanted to do anyzing you could to protect 'er.... But. You. Failed."
A few years ago, Filch had let Snape look in the back of an Oxford Dictionary because there were some interesting sayings there. One of them was "Misery Loves Company." Underneath, Filch had written, "Miserable being must find more miserable beings; then, he's happy - Lady and the Tramp." Snape had thought it was dumb; it was one of those sayings that could be taken two ways: that miserable people found comfort with people who were just as miserable, or that a miserable person would make someone else miserable because it made them feel better.
Forcing his eyes from the mirror, he looked at Fleur. He didn't think it was such a dumb line, now; she was unhappy, and making him feel worse made her feel better simply because it meant that he was now more miserable than she was.
His eyes narrowed. Snape had once done this exact same thing to Filch; Filch had snapped him out of it by making him realize what he was doing. Time to do the same to Fleur. "I know what you see in the Mirror of Erised," he growled. "You see your mother and sister. Not your father, you didn't care much for him. I also know that you feel it's your fault that your sister was killed. If you had let her stay just a few more hours, she'd still be alive. You would've done anything to save your sister; you proved that last year during the second task. You hate yourself, though, because not only did you fail last year, you failed again... this time for real."
Her smile was gone, and she'd paled considerably.
"You know... the funny thing is, you're not all that different from me: both alone, both guilty of failing at our self-appointed tasks... and both wanting to blame it on someone else. The only difference is that you didn't know of the danger to Gabrielle. I knew full well the danger Lily was in, but I hesitated. The cost of that hesitation was her life. Even Potter and his friends can't say that I hesitate now. I never want to have to pay a price like that again."
She shook her head. "I'm not like you...." Tears ran down her face. "I'm not! I'm not! You are a murdairer!"
"I don't deny it; I was a Death Eater. You know it, though I don't know how. Why don't you blame me for what happened to Gabrielle?" His lip curled in a sneer. "Oh, wait. You've already done that, haven't you? You can't get the Death Eaters that killed her, so you're making do with hurting me. Pray tell, did it ever occur to you that I felt the way you do now when I found out what happened to Lily? I did the same thing you're doing now, only I did it to Filch. Tell me again that you're not like me. I could do with a laugh."
She collapsed to the floor, weeping. "Damnez-vous! Damnez-vous! Je vous déteste! Je vous déteste!"
Snape didn't need to understand French to know what she was saying. He'd said the exact same thing to Filch when the caretaker had made him realize what he was doing. He now knew that Filch must've felt sick afterward. Snape did.
Miserable beings indeed; all three of them, and yes, even Winky, were miserable.
@
End of Chapter Twenty-One
"You gave her the password to my room?" Snape shouted at Filch, who had his feet propped up on his desk, obviously pleased with himself. "Whatever possessed you to do that?!"
"A number of things," the caretaker replied happily. "After all, she mentioned that you had the password to her room, so I figured it was only fair to give her yours."
"I know that's not what you were thinking, and you know I know it." Snape glared at Filch. "Why did you do it?"
Instead of answering, Filch got up and rubbed a spot of imaginary dirt from the top of the doorjamb. "You know," he said with an evil grin on his face, "When she came in here asking for the password, it was all I could do not to ask her if she wanted a tube of KY Jelly as well."
@
Five minutes later, Ginny Weasley was sitting in the Gryffindor common room, terrified out of her wits. All her brothers could get out of her was that she had seen Filch, cackling merrily and running for his life, and a murderous looking Snape, chasing after the caretaker with a pair of scissors held like a knife.
@
"Come to my room later tonight," the note said. "You know the password." Snape re-read it a fourth time. He know who it was from. He was beginning to wonder if Fleur would've said "sure" to the KYJelly offer. Having been with Voldemort, however, had taught him to always prepare for the worst. So, he had brought his wand with him, just in case.
He stood in front of the portrait that covered the entrance to her room. It was a picture of Elena the Trampy (a brown-haired witch who was barely covered and wore too much make-up), and at the moment, she was batting her eyes flirtatiously at Steven the Straightlaced, who was giving her a look that clearly said he was disgusted.
Should I go in, Snape thought, or should I go back to my room and hide beneath the bed?
He sure as hell wasn't going to hide.
He looked up and down the hall, making sure no one was looking, said the password, and entered quickly. It would be just his luck if someone saw him, especially if that someone turned out to be the Weasley twins.
Fleur stood at one of the windows, her back to him. "I was wondairing eef you would come in," she said. "It took you long enough to make up your mind."
"I have reason to be cautious, especially after the last time we had a memorable encounter."
She looked at him, finally. Her face was blank, but her eyes told him that she was angry. He couldn't guess why. "Did it 'urt?"
"I've had worse pain."
"Did it scar?"
"Yes."
"Good." She walked away from the window towards him. He moved quickly out of the way, realizing too late that she had successfully maneuvered him away from the door. She turned to face him once more. The covered mirror stood to her left. "I know what you are. Or, more precisely, were."
He shrugged. "You're not the only one."
"I want to know why."
"Why what?"
"Ze 'Eadmastair would not let you stay unless zere was a good reason for 'im to trust you. I want to know what it is."
"What if I don't tell you?"
She smiled nastily. Only then did he comprehend that she was playing with him. "Eef you don't say it, I weell."
Just when he thought he'd had her figured out, she went and did something to change his opinion of her. At the moment, it had gone up considerably. She couldn't know; she was only trying to scare him into telling her. A cautious voice in the back of his head told him never to underestimate the enemy, but he ignored it. "I don't believe you know." He crossed his arms, smirking.
"I do, but I want to 'ear it from your own mouth."
"And I say again, you don't know."
"What eef I told you zat 'Arry introduced me to a friend of 'is yesterday? A little, or rather large, dog by ze name of Black."
His grin disappeared.
"Sirius Black."
He went cold. Shit, shit, shit, shit, was all he could think.
"Ze 'Eadmastair said I could be trusted to know. A very interesting pet he was, too. Some breed called an Animagus?"
Never, ever, ever, ever underestimate the enemy, that voice in his head said smugly. Told you so.
"'E could talk, too. Told me a very good story about a rat named Peter Pettigrew, a stag named," her grin widened, "James Potter, and a very pretty little lady named Lily Potter."
She did know. He prayed for the earth to swallow him up. Nothing happened.
"ZIS Lily as a mattair of fact!" She whipped the cover off the Mirror of Erised, just as he noticed rather belatedly that he was standing directly in front of it.
Sure enough, there was Lily. He grabbed his throat, struggling to take a breath. At the moment, he hated Fleur more than he hated James, more than even Voldemort and Black.
"You went to ze 'Eadmastair because you knew Lily was in dangair," Fleur's voice continued maliciously. "You 'oped zat in doing so, you'd save 'er life, but you were too late. Sirius 'ad already talked James into making Peter ze Secret Keeper, and from zat moment on, Lily's fate was sealed. You'd always loved 'er, even zough she didn't love you, and you wanted to do anyzing you could to protect 'er.... But. You. Failed."
A few years ago, Filch had let Snape look in the back of an Oxford Dictionary because there were some interesting sayings there. One of them was "Misery Loves Company." Underneath, Filch had written, "Miserable being must find more miserable beings; then, he's happy - Lady and the Tramp." Snape had thought it was dumb; it was one of those sayings that could be taken two ways: that miserable people found comfort with people who were just as miserable, or that a miserable person would make someone else miserable because it made them feel better.
Forcing his eyes from the mirror, he looked at Fleur. He didn't think it was such a dumb line, now; she was unhappy, and making him feel worse made her feel better simply because it meant that he was now more miserable than she was.
His eyes narrowed. Snape had once done this exact same thing to Filch; Filch had snapped him out of it by making him realize what he was doing. Time to do the same to Fleur. "I know what you see in the Mirror of Erised," he growled. "You see your mother and sister. Not your father, you didn't care much for him. I also know that you feel it's your fault that your sister was killed. If you had let her stay just a few more hours, she'd still be alive. You would've done anything to save your sister; you proved that last year during the second task. You hate yourself, though, because not only did you fail last year, you failed again... this time for real."
Her smile was gone, and she'd paled considerably.
"You know... the funny thing is, you're not all that different from me: both alone, both guilty of failing at our self-appointed tasks... and both wanting to blame it on someone else. The only difference is that you didn't know of the danger to Gabrielle. I knew full well the danger Lily was in, but I hesitated. The cost of that hesitation was her life. Even Potter and his friends can't say that I hesitate now. I never want to have to pay a price like that again."
She shook her head. "I'm not like you...." Tears ran down her face. "I'm not! I'm not! You are a murdairer!"
"I don't deny it; I was a Death Eater. You know it, though I don't know how. Why don't you blame me for what happened to Gabrielle?" His lip curled in a sneer. "Oh, wait. You've already done that, haven't you? You can't get the Death Eaters that killed her, so you're making do with hurting me. Pray tell, did it ever occur to you that I felt the way you do now when I found out what happened to Lily? I did the same thing you're doing now, only I did it to Filch. Tell me again that you're not like me. I could do with a laugh."
She collapsed to the floor, weeping. "Damnez-vous! Damnez-vous! Je vous déteste! Je vous déteste!"
Snape didn't need to understand French to know what she was saying. He'd said the exact same thing to Filch when the caretaker had made him realize what he was doing. He now knew that Filch must've felt sick afterward. Snape did.
Miserable beings indeed; all three of them, and yes, even Winky, were miserable.
@
End of Chapter Twenty-One