Scar Mates

THE MIRROR OF ERISED

The daily routine of the school relaxed considerably once most of the students had left for the holidays. Snape's own habits had not been much affected--he still arose early and retired late, doing much as he'd told Dumbledore he'd planned to do. Papers were graded and potions were brewed during the day, leaving his nights free to spend by his fire catching up on his reading. A few evenings he'd spent with Minerva and the Headmaster, enjoying a drink and the company, even allowing himself to be talked into a very humiliating hand or two of cards. The man cheats.

Last night he'd attended the mandatory staff Wassail, and the inevitable silliness had him fleeing long before midnight.

Christmas morning, he slept later than usual. Having missed breakfast, he ordered from the kitchens, then settled into his favorite chair by the fire. Sipping his tea, he eyed the three gifts that waited for him there on the hearth, having arrived there sometime during the night. This part of Christmas, at least at Hogwart's, had always made him somewhat uneasy. He only exchanged gifts with Minerva and the Headmaster, but still he struggled each year to find something thoughtful befitting the occasion. This year he'd found a tartan tam and shawl for the head of Gryffindor house, and a rare bottle of Scotch spirits for the old man, again ignoring the man's annual plea for socks.

His curiosity finally getting the better of him, he knelt by the hearth to examine the packages.

He chose to open the safest of the three first. Minerva had given him a leather-bound journal, the dark green leather embossed with the Slytherin crest and his name in silver. Tracing his finger over one of the silver snakes that formed the "S"s, he gasped in surprise as it coiled slightly and hissed at him before settling back in to reform the letter. He laughed softly. It was a fine gift, and mostly he appreciated the trouble she had taken to secure such a suitable one.

He now turned to Dumbledore's gifts. He had decided years ago that using a revealing spell to detect any magical surprises that the old man might have placed on them ruined half the fun. At least for the old man. Past years had taught him that one would be a heartfelt gift, while the other would tax his own sense of humor.

Deciding that the larger of the two would be the more sincere, he opened it first, and was dismayed to find a rather large volume entitled "Sexual Prowess Through Potions: 101 Potions for the Lovelorn." He snorted. The old man is twisted. He knows I have nothing like this in my library. Setting it aside gingerly, he picked up the smaller package, surprised at its weight. Dispensing with the wrapping, he found a small wooden box, carved in minute detail, apparently by hand. It opened on a hinge to a blue velvet interior in which was nestled a fob pocket watch. He admired it for a moment before removing it from the box. The golden surface gleamed as he examined the intricate crest etched on the front of it. Puzzled, he palmed it over to read the engraving the back: Clyde Francis Dumbledore. He felt his heart give an odd thump as he realized what the old man had given him. He's given me his father's watch.

He sat back on his heels as he considered the treasure. It was true that Dumbledore had no children to pass such a thing on to. But that he would choose to gift him with such an heirloom....He tried in vain to swallow away the lump that was sitting in the middle of his throat. The giving of the watch was all the more poignant, as they had recently discussed the wizarding practice of passing down such belongings from generation to generation. How fitting that the Headmaster, who had no one, would pass it down to the Potions Master, who was also alone. He blinked several times to clear his eyes. He was glad that the old man had given the gift in private, as he would not care to let anyone witness what he was so ill-prepared to conceal or explain.

Christmas dinner was a sordid affair, orchestrated entirely by the Headmaster, who wildly infused his penchant for excess and hilarity into the whole event. From the exotic and abundant platters to the silly crackers he insisted each guest open, the old man celebrated his capacity for mirth and regalement. Wine and other spirits being liberally dispensed at the head table, Snape observed, with the usual disdain he reserved for the occasion, as the staff dropped their inhibitions one by one to sink to the Headmaster's level. He grunted in surprise at one point when Minerva elbowed him in the ribs and teased, "Loosen up a little, Severus. For heaven's sake, they're only mice." He begrudgingly admitted that the flaming plum puddings had been particularly spectacular. Actually, the excellent repast alone made the whole ordeal worth while.

As the merrymakers were breaking up for their Christmas naps, he made his way over to Filch and pulled him aside. "Filch," he said quietly. "Be on the lookout for students out of their houses after curfew. Alert me immediately."

The caretaker nodded at him curtly. "I'll keep a special eye out, Professor."

Snape didn't think it would help the man any to warn him that the student might be invisible.

***

He was on patrol that night when he heard footsteps hurrying toward him. Rounding the corner, he almost collided with the out of breath caretaker.

"You asked me to come directly to you, Professor, if anyone was wandering around at night, and somebody's been in the library--Restricted Section," Filch told him.

Snape hesitated only a moment before taking the man by the arm to reverse his direction. "The Restricted Section? Well, they can't be far, we'll catch them."

Hurrying back to the library, the two of them entered with Filch leading the way with his lantern. Reaching the Restricted Section, Snape then took the lead, walking to the very first set of bookcases. He stopped when he saw the large, black and sliver book sticking out at an angle, obviously out of place. Cautiously, he pulled it out and read the title "Banshees and Other Magical Malevolents." Puzzled, he hefted the volume out and laid it on a table, then turned to slowly take in the rest of the library. Whomever it had been wouldn't have waited here to be found out, that much was certain, unless they were incredibly stupid. But then again, they had been incredibly stupid to have ventured into the library and drop a lamp in the first place.

"Argus, I'll take this floor and above. If you could check on the lower floors? In particular, around Gryffindor house.?"

Filch looked like Snape had just given him a Christmas gift. "Fine with me, Professor. I'll bring them directly to your chambers if I find them." He shuffled off on his mission, Mrs. Norris trailing closely behind.

Snape stood outside the library, waiting for the noise of the caretaker's retreat to die down. It was the boy. It makes perfect sense. He and his friends are still trying to dig up what they can on Flamel. He stifled the urge to laugh. In the Restricted Section? If they are looking for him there, they're really getting desperate. For pity's sake, the man's on a Frog card.

The hall silent now, he backtracked the way he and Filch had come. He moved stealthily and soundlessly, visually checking each door that he passed. Coming up on a suit of armor, his eye flickered over it as he passed, then flickered back. Taking two steps backward, he leaned over to look at the partially hidden door to the left of the armor. He had almost missed it. It stood slightly ajar, open just a few inches. Cautiously, he stepped to press himself flat against it, his fingers curling around the edges. He froze in place when he heard a small sound from within, a moan so soft that he wondered if he'd imagined it. Shifting his weight, he tentatively pushed the door a little, praying that it would not creak. It gave away soundlessly, and he glided through to flatten himself against the wall, taking care to keep in the shadows behind a pile of desks.

There was very little light in the room, but enough for him to see its other intruder once his eyes had adjusted. He closed his eyes briefly, mentally throwing up the shield that would thwart the cursed connection, then opened them again after he was prepared.

The boy stood on the far side of the room, oblivious to his presence, and the reason became all too clear in an instant. The small Gryffindor was poised, his nose almost touching it, in front of a large, gilt-framed mirror that rested against the wall on its two clawed feet. Bloody hell. He invades the library, the Restricted Section no less, and escapes only to find the Mirror of Erised? Damned invisibility cloak. I bloody well will take points!

Just as he was about to step out, he was rooted to the spot when he heard the boy murmur softly, "Mom?" There was a long pause. "Dad?" He felt his impulse to act dissolve as his knees weakened at the sound of the boy's voice. He watched in fascination as the child brought up first one palm, then another, and pressed them flat against the glass. His heart wrenched as he realized what the boy must be seeing there. He had no doubts about what the deepest desires of this boy's heart would be.

Still the boy remained immobile, his attention riveted by what the mirror revealed to him. Snape was beginning to feel like the guilty voyeur that he was, when a distant sound from the floors below startled the boy, who shook his head slightly as he glanced toward the door. Looking back to the mirror, he removed his hands, then whispered, "I'll come back." Snape held his breath, pressing himself to the wall as the boy hurried past him and out the door.

Waiting until the boy would be well away, Snape drew out of the shadows and quietly closed the door. Walking slowly, he approached the mirror, but stood for a moment before he turned to face it. Opening his eyes, he gazed at his reflection. At first he saw only himself, then....like the boy who had stood in this very spot just a minute before, he was mesmerized by what he saw. His face softened as his mirror image stared back at him, the trace of a smile at the corners of the mouth. His chin rested on the top of her head, his arms encircling her from behind. Relaxed in the arms that held her, Lily gazed out at him serenely, the green eyes flashing. Unable to stop himself, Snape reached out a hand to trace on the glass. Both Lily and her lover smiled as he did this, and he found he could not help but smile sadly in return. He appeared exactly as Snape did now, yet had an unlined and contented countenance that Snape had not possessed for years. But this Lily, was Lily as he remembered her, young and vibrant, unmarked by care or age.

He stood there, his arm outstretched, for what might have been a moment, or may have been an hour. He did not know, nor care. This was different from seeing her in the Pensieve somehow, and he was lost in the emotion of it.

Finally dropping his hand, he watched as the man in the mirror withdrew his arms from around her waist to gently place a hand on her shoulder. They stared back at him, unsmiling now. Nodding to them slightly, Snape said, "He will come back again....I cannot."

***

The next night found Snape once again in the deserted classroom. He'd arrived well before curfew to ensure being secluded and in place. He had no doubts that the boy would return again tonight---his reaction to the mirror had been too powerful for it to be otherwise. The Potions Master had mentally dithered over how to handle this, and had decided that although the boy was out after curfew, discipline alone would be extremely cruel in these circumstances. He planned on educating the boy on the realities of the mirror as objectively as he could, and then escorting him back to his house. Whether or not points would be lost would depend largely on the boy's attitude on being caught.

Not too long after curfew, he heard a muffled sound coming from the corridor. He sighed. It's not always satisfying to be right, and damn, if he makes any more noise, Filch will have him in a heartbeat. He silently willed the boy to be quiet.

The door swung in slightly, and when the invisibility cloak dropped, he was horrified to see that the boy had brought along a friend. Well, so much for having a compassionate little chat with him, then.

The boy ran to the mirror and looked in hungrily. "See," he whispered, pointing.

The youngest Weasley stood beside him and frowned. "I can't see anything."

"Look! Look a them all....there are loads of them..."

Loads of them? he thought. I saw only two.

"I can only see you," Weasley told him.

"Look in it properly, go on, stand where I am."

As he watched, the boy stepped aside, pushing his friend to the center, directly in front of the mirror. He watched the boy's frustration as he realized that the mirror was revealing something altogether different to his friend. Obviously Weasley suffered from middle, or fourth or fifth-child syndrome, seeing himself as Quidditch captain and Head Boy.

Finally the red head asked his friend, "Do you think this mirror shows the future?"

The boy was catching on to what the mirror was about, it seemed. "How can it? All my family are dead."

Snape watched as they were reduced to quibbling over who would get to stand and look in. Disgusted now, he raised his wand and flicked it slightly, causing the suit of armor in the hallway just outside the door to shift a little.

The sudden noise brought them to their senses. Grabbing up the cloak, they threw it over themselves just as Filch's cat rubbed her way around the door. They must've stood completely still then, waiting until the cat turned tail and left. The gap at the door widened a bit, and he heard their none too quiet retreat down the hallway.

Relaxing to lean against the all, he conceded that it was time to bring the Headmaster in on this scenario. It required a certain....delicacy that Snape was not sure he possessed. And the mirror had to be moved...and soon. As he wearily made his way to his rooms, he thought, The chance to take Gryffindor points....lost to sentiment? I must be getting soft.

***

The Headmaster agreed that the matter required their immediate attention. For the third night straight, Snape found himself once again barricaded behind the desks in the deserted classroom just before curfew. Dumbledore, a master at concealing himself from detection even when no barrier was available, perched himself on a desk not too far from the mirror.

"What if he brings the Weasley boy with him?" Snape asked him.

"He won't. He's discovered that he cannot share what the mirror has given him. He'll come alone." The old man sounded very sure of this.

They actually heard his footsteps. It was fortunate that this was going to be dealt with tonight, as he was becoming reckless, even with the cloak. He pushed into the room, dropping the cloak, and moved immediately to the mirror. This time, instead of standing to look, he sank down and sat on the floor, resting elbows on knees, his eyes fixed dreamily on the mirror.

This is getting serious. Thank Merlin I didn't delay asking for Dumbledore to put a stop to this.

The boy gave a start at the words. "So....back again, Harry?"

Snape listened as Dumbldore wove his yarn about being invisible. The boy seemed relieved that he did not appear to be in trouble.

He listened, feeling no small amount of sympathy for the boy, as the Headmaster explained the delights and horrors of the mirror.

The young Gryffindor took his time to digest the explanation. "It shows us what we want?"

"Yes and no," Dumbledore said quietly. Snape had heard this speech before, but was watching how the boy would react. The old man took his time with the boy, knowing that he would grieve the loss of the mirror.

The Headmaster was drawing to a close, admonishing the boy. "This mirror will give you neither knowledge nor truth....the mirror will be moved to a new home tomorrow, Harry, and I ask you not to go looking for it again. Suggesting he not go looking for Flamel might have been appropriate too, I think. The boy seemed, not disappointed, but resigned. Snape suspected that the child had already known on his own that the mirror was not a good thing. Dumbledore spoke on, his eyes tracking over to where he knew Snape was sitting. "It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live, remember that." Snape knew the admonition was not only directed at Harry. He could feel the old man looking straight into his eyes, even though he could not see him.

The boy gone, Snape extracted himself from his hiding place and came to stand beside the Headmaster.

"Tomorrow night, Severus. We'll place it in the Grid then. I'm afraid it's become too much of a temptation for Harry to stay away. I am pleased that you did not use this opportunity to take house points. There will be other occasions, I'm sure, where you won't feel so conflicted about it."

Snape inclined his head slightly to say good night, preparing to leave, when he was stopped by the question. "What did you see, Severus?"

Without turning back, Snape answered. "You know exactly what we both saw, Albus."

Not that it's any of your business.