In the end, she made very reasonable time and reached the beautiful village of Ticehurst just before two o'clock.
The man at the car rental place had told her the local pub was well known for doing delicious, reasonably priced meals which sounded promising. Now Hermione was taking the opportunity to admire the township's beautiful, old, church as she drove into the picturesque hamlet while dappled sunlight filtered through the foliage of oak trees that lined the road.
It had been quite some time since she had been out and about in the muggle world, and the prospect of a weekend in the country enjoying the lovely, sunny, weather strongly appealed to her.
As she entered the village proper, Hermione parked outside a well maintained Tudor style building on the main street, with a sign in its neat garden proclaiming it to be a Bed and Breakfast. She rolled down the front windows to catch the faint breeze while she examined the millennia-old A-Z she had found in the glove box.
The address Arthur had provided for where his mysterious artefact had been shipped was for a curiosity shop called "Tin pots & Tea Kettles". Which she could now discern lay toward the far end of the village, a few blocks back from the high street.
o0o
The walk in the afternoon sun was pleasant but warmer than expected and Hermione was grateful as she stepped into the shade cast by the strip of four broad shopfronts. The facade of "Tin Pots & Tea Kettles" was weathered and age-blackened sandstone with a lush honeysuckle vine growing from the nearby fence across the face of the building and atop the door lintel lent which the air a heady fragrance. The window was hung with bright bunting and displayed a mishmash of antique toys, glass jars filled with vintage buttons and old-fashioned biscuit tins Hermione just knew were filled with sewing needles and spools of thread. As she pushed the door open and stepped into the cool interior which smelled like beeswax and linseed oil, woodsmoke and the familiar mustiness of old books, a bell jingled cheerily above her.
A counter made of some type of dark wood ran along the right-hand side of the shop behind which a pale young girl, with a long fall of straight dark hair, sat reading, she glanced up at the sound of the bell.
"Can I help you?" She asked, "Or are you just browsing?"
"Actually, I'm looking for something specific, it would have come in early last week with stuff from a deceased estate?" Hermione said.
"Oh, okay, one second and I'll get Mum" the girl stood and disappeared through the bead curtain covering the doorway to the rear of the store where she could be heard calling for her mother.
Hermione scrutinised her surrounds and realised the store was much larger than it appeared from outside, extending back and running behind the other shops in the strip.
"I'm sure she won't be a minute," the girl said as she came back to the counter.
At this moment Hermione was examining the items in the glass cases atop the counter hoping to spot the lighter amid the jewelled hat pins, brooches and antique watches within.
"No school today?" she asked.
"No, I had chicken pox last week, so I'm not allowed back until Monday." The girl's tone was wistful in a way Hermione could relate to, and she found herself unsurprised to note several more books stacked neatly at the girl's elbow.
With a cacophonous rattling, the bead curtain was pushed aside as a middle-aged woman emerged. Her brunette hair was a wild nimbus of curls that fell about her shoulders in chestnut ringlets and in a peasant blouse and full-length muslin skirt the store's proprietor looked like she belonged in a Romanticist painting rather than a curiosity shop in East Sussex.
"Hello, I'm Geraldine, and this is Mallory," she said indicating the girl behind the counter, "how can we help you?
"I'm hoping to locate a specific item I believe was sent here, it was part of the deceased estate of Able Date?
"Oh, certainly we can help with that. Were you a friend of Mr Date?" Hermione nodded as Geraldine motioned to follow as she moved away from the counter and into the delightful labyrinth of Bric-à-Brac. They walked along meandering pathways between teetering shelves full sundry pieces of objets d'art and leather-bound books. Here and there were genuine curios, like the weathered grotesque squatting in a corner who must once have graced a cathedral and the Fortune Telling automaton sitting at the end of an aisle, which undoubtedly belonged in a museum and whose eyes followed Hermione in a most unsettling way as she scuttled along in Geraldine's wake.
"The larger pieces from the consignment are in the workshop. There is a marvellous wardrobe, Applewood, if I'm not mistaken, originally from the Kirke Estate it passed to Mr Date in 1949, and a charming roll-top desk. They'll need a bit of love and a good polish of course before I put them out for sale."
Geraldine paused in a portion of the store in which a full dining suite had been set up. The space was partitioned from the rest of the shop by china cabinets filled with an odd assortment of the mundane and macabre. Silver candelabras on display beside works of taxidermy, while soup tureens jostled for space on shelves with framed examples of Victorian mourning portraits.
"This is where I put out a number of the smaller pieces from the estate, which item were you looking in particular?" The older woman asked.
"A silver cigarette lighter? Early 20th Century, possibly World War I trench art?" Hermione replied moving closer to the nearest of the glass-fronted cabinets and examining its contents more closely.
Geraldine tilted her head to one side with a quizzical expression on her face and a well-manicured finger tapping the cupid's bow of her lips.
"I'm sorry, I thought I was familiar with all the pieces that were brought in as part of that lot, but I can't recall that one. Are you certain it was sent here?" She said.
Hermione nodded, causing her host to once more disappear amongst the stacks. Geraldine swept gracefully from one cabinet to the next, dismissing each with a wave of her hand as Hermione trailed along behind her, longing to stop and look at the many piles of books and esoteric objects which piqued her curiosity as they passed but unable to shake the feeling that if she lost her guide she might never find her way out. She was therefore taken aback to round a corner by a heavily carved Jacobean chair and find herself stepping out next to the counter once more.
"Perhaps I popped it in one of the cases here without thinking," Geraldine said moving toward the counter.
Mallory placed a bookmark in her reading.
"What is it you're looking for Mum?" she asked.
"I'm after part of the consignment that came in last week? A silver cigarette lighter? You don't know what I did with it do you, Sweetheart? I just can't see it in my mind's eye." As if struck by inspiration she flung open a nearby armoire and peered into it.
"You sold it already," Mallory said.
"Hmph?" Geraldine said as she emerged from inside the cupboard.
"I said, you sold it already. To Sorry, days ago" Mallory repeated.
Geraldine's gaze cleared and she nodded brightly.
"Of course, how did I forget? I'm very sorry Miss, but I'm afraid it's been sold."
"Oh, that's rotten luck," Hermione fibbed smoothly, "I don't suppose you would consider putting me in touch with the buyer would you? It's just, my mother was one of Mr Date's carers, and she was always teasing him about giving up smoking. She was so fond of him, and I know it would mean a great deal to her if I could find it as a keepsake."
Geraldine pursed her lips and came back to the counter.
"I'm normally reluctant to do that, but I get a sense this is important to you and you don't seem like some pushy antique dealer looking to score a bargain." She scribbled a name and address on the back of a business card.
"Here you go, but be warned, don't make a nuisance of yourself, Sorry is well liked in the village."
o0o
Hermione returned to the car for the A-Z before making her way through the village toward the address for a Mr Sorenson Kerr, given to her by Geraldine. Forge Cottage, number one, Lymden Lane, which according to the map was a narrow lane off a side road on the left side of the town.
Hermione had thought about transfiguring her work robes into a skirt and blazer and posing as an antique dealer, but having decided to make a mini-break of her trip she instead had slipped into a pair of jeans and a simple long-sleeved blouse. Neat but not fussy and she was glad of it now.
The warm sun against her cheeks felt wonderful as she turned into Lymden Lane and immediately spied her destination. The main building was the first cottage in a row of neat red brick townhouses, number one, which was closest to her, had a white weatherboard extension which looked like a home office or perhaps an artist's studio, with a large picture window facing her, a midnight blue mug steamed on the window sill.
"Good," she thought "someone is at home."
Walking up to the front door she could hear whistling and a radio blaring Black Sabbath. As she lifted her hand to the heavy brass knocker she stopped short, as something faintly electric whispered across the skin of her fingertips, a chilly sense of unease settling into the pit of her stomach. She stepped back into the roadway and ran a careful eye over the building's façade. Nothing. She scanned the street, but it lay quiet, even the birds had stilled and the world felt like it was holding its breath as she drew her wand.
"Aparecium" she whispered.
There was no response. She shook her head and tucked her wand away again. Perhaps the mysterious charmed object she was here investigating was responsible for that merest breath of magic.
"The sooner it's safely contained the better if that is the case," she thought.
So with fresh determination, she seized the door knocker, but in the heartbeat between hefting it and hearing it thump against the wood of the door, the feather-light touch came again, running across her palms and up her arms, raising the hair like static electricity.
A thought rang bell-like through the vaulted confines of her mind. "Something extraordinary is about to happen".
A second later the door was opened by a smiling, dark-haired, man that for the briefest instant her eyes refused to recognise, and then she was looking down the length of his wand pointing at her, his dark eyes cold, and flat, no echo of the smile remained. She hadn't even seen him move.
"No," he said in a steady voice that held no fear or malice, only an implacable resolve.
o0o
He pulled the door open and his world fractured into bright, splintered shards of memory and recrimination.
The wand was in her hand in an instant. Merlin, she was fast; but he had been faster. That thought made him pause – surely had she been looking for him, her wand would have been at the ready?
"And she wouldn't have rung the doorbell you dimwitted dolt" he chided himself inwardly.
A long, dangerous, second passed between them. It didn't matter why she was here, or what she wanted, things were different now.
"Lower your wand, Miss Granger, I have neither the time nor patience to deal with you today" his tone biting though he kept his voice low.
Her glance never wavered from his.
"It has been some years since I was a student Mister Snape, perhaps you should lower yours."
"Touche´" he thought, she hadn't placed any emphasis on "Mister" and yet he understood the message. He was no longer her teacher nor she a wide-eyed ingénue.
He stared at the blasted woman on his doorstep. How had the Ministry found him? Though he surreptitiously scanned the area he didn't sense anyone else hiding in the bushes along the path, nor did the few people passing by the mouth of the lane look out of place in the village.
She had appeared shocked by his appearance at the door, was it just remotely possible that Miss Granger - one of the very last people he would have wanted to discover him, had found him by accident?
His eyes narrowed as he contemplated his options. He could take the girl in a duel, he was still sure of that much, but, his eyes darted to end of the lane, better not to attract attention, and attacking Hermione Bloody Granger would do exactly that. No better to let her have rope enough to hang herself with. Her own curiosity would have her follow him off of the street where surely he would be able to Confund or Obliviate her, at worst he would find an opportunity to slip her a sleeping draught.
A tactical withdrawal then. He paused a second longer before dropping his gaze and letting the wand drop to his side.
o0o
Hermione let out the breath she had been unaware she was holding, but neither let her gaze or wand drop.
"Miss Granger. Seeing you was, unexpected, and I reacted on instincts I did not know I still possessed. I did not intend to frighten you. Please come in" he said.
She wavered and then lowered her wand.
"Unexpected is definitely the word," she said.