A/N: A fond and sparkly thank you to everyone on my LJ f-list for your tidings of comfort and joy, and a special thanks to TimeTurnerForSale and Luna for the usual reasons and then some.


Of Mirrors, Masks, and Rain

"Because, Minerva," he said quietly, "one of the names is hers."

The book in Dumbledore's portrait nuzzled his hand, and it seemed to sigh as he stroked its cover.

As Hermione reached for the door to the Room of Requirement, Tayet sang a soft note and drifted over to perch on a nearby suit of armor. Hermione turned to look at her, and Tayet tilted her head, folding her wings.

"You're going to wait, then?"

Tayet sang another note, which Hermione couldn't interpret.

She sighed, squared her shoulders, and walked into the Room.

There was an armchair in front of the Mirror of Erised this time, and she nodded to herself upon seeing the Room's confirmation that there was something she'd missed. She needed to see everything, this time, so she sat, tucking her robes around her.

Again herself and Severus. Again the expressionless faces. Again the single, stark kiss. And again the flash of green light – from Severus' wand, she saw this time. His eyes… oh, gods, his eyes… steady, Granger, she thought sternly, forcing herself to watch as the light grew, intensified, consumed the mirror's surface.

It was replaced with a rippling veil.

The veil? Not a good sign.

She drew her feet up into the chair, hugging her knees, and closed her eyes, burying her face in her robes, her mind whirling.

Unbearable… The look on his face… Oh, gods, that's not going to reunite his soul; it's going to blow it apart… oh, gods…

When she could finally bear to open her eyes again, she made herself watch again as he raised his wand to kill her.

The same sequence of images. The same kiss. The same look in his eyes.

And the same green flash, and then the rippling.

Again.

And again.

And again.

She stretched her legs in front of her and leaned her head back against the soft cushions of the armchair. Staring at the ceiling, she forced herself to review what she'd seen.

The look. The kiss. The Killing Curse. Wait.

She sat up suddenly and leaned forward in the chair, staring intently at the mirror.

The images played again.

Severus raising his wand –

Hermione willed her gaze away from Severus' face and focused instead on her own.

She hadn't bothered, before now; there was no counter-spell for the Killing Curse, and never would be.

As the green light flared, obscuring her face from view, right before the rippling started, the Hermione in the Mirror smiled.

Hermione unconsciously reached for the old Head Girl badge she'd pinned inside of her robes that morning and clenched it, hard.

She stared long into the mirror, at the green flashes and the endless rippling.

And eventually when the Hermione in the mirror smiled, Hermione smiled too.

/x/

Severus sat staring at the mask on the table, looking into its eyes.

The eyes were flashing green from the graffiti on the table - Potter's crude rendering of the moment that had cost him his soul.

The moment he had promised to Dumbledore. "Severus, please."

The moment he had promised to Narcissa. "Protect my son." For him to protect Draco that night, Draco had to trust him then.

The moment he had promised to Lily. "Protect my child." For him to protect Potter at the end, Potter had to hate him now.

Severus stared long into the eyes of the mask, the green flashes, endlessly repeating.

The same moment he had never promised Hermione, the moment that brought her, curious, testing her logic, to Grimmauld Place, to be tested further – terrified, bent, annealed, shadowed…

The moment that had brought her, yielding, proud, to him.

The moment that had brought him, proud, yielding, before her.

He took off one of his gloves, setting it beside the mask, running one bare finger thoughtfully around the rim of an eye hole. Ah, Potter, how much worse your hatred now, if you but knew.

Tayet appeared in the garden, banking in a long, sweeping curve. The shadow of her outstretched wings passed over the window.

A strange smile spread on his lips as he continued running his finger around inside the eye hole.

For every time he'd seen her eyes – Lily's eyes – staring at him with hatred. For every time his heart had beat frantically against the white-hot bands of the Compulsion, searing, constricting, until his breath was scarcely adequate to the task of speaking whatever spell was required to extricate the stupid boy from whatever mortal peril he'd blundered into this year.

For every Unforgivable he'd witnessed, performed, and pretended to glory in.

For every second he'd spent in loathsome servitude.

For every pleasure he'd remembered in pain, and for every agony he'd endured in penance.

For the trapping spell he would cast.

For the Killing Curse that would follow it.

And for...

The eyes of the Death Eater mask glowed, faded, emptied, and Severus sat, head bent in concentration, tracing the empty, glowing eye hole with a slow, deliberate finger.

Hermione found him thus.

And only his eyes moved, locking with hers from behind his fallen hair.

She was smiling, and the look of triumph in her eye brought him to his feet.

"Hermione." His voice low, rough.

She laughed, rich, full – a challenge, he thought, but perhaps not to him – and her robes rippled behind her as she came to the table. "I have it."

"The book?"

"More. I looked in the Mirror again."

His eyes asked the obvious question.

"I saw the whole thing this time."

He sat, slowly. "And?"

"It was all as before – us, together, a kiss, and then you - "

He clenched the edge of the table and looked away from the mask. "I don't need that detail, Hermione."

She exhaled deliberately.

"What," he asked.

"Fine. But I think you're going to have to see it."

His hands twitched, and he forced himself to let go of the table. Running both hands along the corner of its edge, slowly, as if measuring his own control, he focused abstractly on a knot in the wood grain.

She waited.

Finally, he nodded. "After… after that, what did you see?"

"Just before the light shadowed everything, I smiled."

"You… what?"

"Smiled."

He examined her closely, hands still moving on the table. "Assuming for the moment that my killing you really isn't the deepest desire of your heart… "

She interrupted him with a soft snort. "Hardly."

"… and given that you know that there is no counter curse…" his voice trailed off. She was still looking at him with an expression he knew perfectly well. Always has to be a bloody footnote. He stopped and raised an eyebrow of acknowledgment.

"There was also a veil."

His mouth went dry. "It's just a metaphor, Hermione."

She brushed metaphor aside with an impatient hand. "I smiled, Severus. That has to mean something."

"The mirror doesn't show truth, Hermione. You know that."

"No, of course not," she bit her lip. "But I think you should look anyway."

He looked at her for a few moments, as if memorizing something. Finally, he stood and came to sit next to her, his robes fluttering to stillness as his thoughts joined hers.

She felt him withdraw sharply before the memory was complete, and opened her eyes to find him glaring at her. Breathe, Granger. "I know," she told him, reaching for his hand. "It gets easier. A little," she muttered wryly. "Trust me."

He pressed her hand but removed his. "I can't touch you and watch – that."

She looked at him strangely as Tayet's shadow passed the window, but sighed. "Just watch the whole thing this time? It isn't fun for me either."

"Of course."

She recognized it for the apology it almost was, and waited.

In her mind, he saw the mirror, saw her, himself, standing, together, his cloak enfolding, then a kiss like ice in his heart, then his wand, raising - Oh, gods - and his face - Whatever can she see in - and then hers –

"Blast!" he said abruptly.

The sound was not without hope.

She looked at him appraisingly, expectantly.

He nodded slowly. It's that smile. Damn, damn, damn… He felt, keenly, the awkwardness of being her former teacher. Very quietly, refusing to look at her, he said, "I recognize the smile too, Hermione." It had always accompanied a perfect essay.

As they had all been perfect, he knew that smile rather well.

She grinned.

His hands were on her back, drawing her toward him, out of her chair, into his arms, his head falling onto her shoulder, before she could speak.

Holding her tightly, fiercely, "But it doesn't show the truth."

She nodded, one hand coming up to stroke his hair as it fell into her own. "I know. But there's something else." A little awkwardly, with her other hand she drew her wand. "Does this look right to you?"

His head came up, and he looked.

Then he frowned.

Then a gleam in his eyes – starved, cunning – and Hermione was reflexively relieved that she was not its object. "No," he said, his voice as clear and certain as were he chastising Neville Longbottom.

"No," he said again, turning her face to his with a strong, gentle, possessive hand.

Glorious.

Tayet whizzed past the window, and then back for a hovering glance.

It did not seem strange to her to see Hermione's Gryffindor robes cascading against those of a Death Eater.

She trilled, and went back to flying.

"Never thought I'd see that," said a voice from the Floo.

Severus and Hermione leaped apart, wands out, pointing at the hearth.

Minerva's Head Girl badge had come unpinned from the inside of Hermione's robes and, in the awkward silence, it clattered to the flagstone hearth. Hermione's wand did not move, but she blushed furiously.

"Oh, relax, girl, I've seen worse," said Mr. Ollivander, nodding at Severus, who nodded back, pocketing his wand. Mr. Ollivander moved to leave the fireplace but hit his head rather hard on the mantel. "Perhaps some assistance… " He glanced around the kitchen, up the chimney, and at the fireguard behind him. "Unusual protections here… " he mused as Severus muttered something under his breath and, to Hermione's astonishment, extended a hand to the old wizard.

"Thank you, yes, thank you." With Severus' assistance, Mr. Ollivander was extricated from the fireplace, eyes still darting around the kitchen but somehow taking in the entire house. With a gesture, he removed the soot from his robes.

Hermione could only stare. "You… but you disappeared."

Mr. Ollivander regarded her with a kind of benevolent insanity. "Of course I did."

"Where did you go?" she asked, reaching blindly for some semblance of reason.

His eyes widened – and whether he was mocking her or showing real surprise Hermione had no idea. "Havana, of course." Turning to Severus, he said, "Well?" His voice was mild, but his watery eyes held an intensity that was doing nothing to calm Hermione's nerves.

"Havana?" Hermione forced herself to close her mouth. "But… how did you get through the… Are you a me-…"

Severus interrupted her. "You remember Ollivander's Second Corollary, of course," he began in his best "You haven't done the reading" tone.

She glared at him.

"'The wand chooses the wizard'?" Severus continued, arching an eyebrow at her. There was something of a warning in his look.

"Or witch," she muttered, with as steady a gaze as she could muster.

Mr. Ollivander looked at her with a kind of hazy focus. "There is another," he said.

Obviously, she thought, grimly, given that there is a "Second." She swallowed. "Fine. What is the First Corollary, then?"

"Oh, good, good, very good," Ollivander nodded, holding up one finger.

Hermione tried very hard not to scowl.

Severus tried very hard not to laugh.

"Yes, there is another… oh yes… Ollivander's First Corollary: The core chooses the wandmaker."

And with that, he left the kitchen.

Hermione shot a questioning look at Severus, who shrugged stiffly and nodded once, gesturing for her to precede him through the door.

She picked up the fallen badge and, head held high, walked through the door he held open for her.

/x/

In the garden, the butterflies had all gone away.

Tayet felt her first drop of rain.

It didn't feel like a butterfly.

She did not know what it was.

She felt another.

"Squeep," she complained, turning around and rustling her wings.

And another.

"Squeep," she said, louder.

Insistent and frequent drops hit the leaves around her, and she flew through the open window as the skies opened.

/x/

The kitchen door was closed.

"SQUERK!"

A moment later, the door burst open.

Tayet back-winged, dodging, as a strange face advanced on her slowly.

It came closer.

She dodged.

And closer.

She perched on a chair back, wings open, feathers rattling her distress.

"Squeep?" she cried, craning her neck, seeing Severus and Hermione standing in the doorway.

A strange hand reaching for her –

– and she disappeared, reappearing, her talons full of Hermione's hair and her head buried against Severus' shoulder.

Instinctively, they stood closer together, two hands joining on her back.

"You didn't touch them after she dropped them?" the strange face said, a flash of dark and light disappearing into his robes.

Tayet buried her head in Severus' hair.

They shook their heads.

"You're sure," it spoke again.

Tayet trembled.

"I didn't even know they were there," Hermione muttered darkly, still stroking Tayet's back.

"No more did I." Severus sounded solemn.

"Good… yes… good…"

A whoosh of the Floo, and the voice was gone.

Severus and Hermione reached for each other, and in the shadows between them Tayet welcomed the darkness.

Her feathers were wet, and the darkness was warm.