The Spy
AN: This is was a little idea what popped into my head while I was supposed to be working on something else which should have claimed my attention.
As always, I make nothing from this endeavor and thank JKR for allowing us to play with her creations.
Thank you so much to everyone who had read, reviewed, followed or favourited this story. You are the reason I continue to write.
SS
Minerva set her teacup down considerately. "I am at a loss, Hermione, if you're telling me that you didn't place the bid then I don't know what else to suggest, other than foul play, of course."
Hermione sighed. "I've thought about it a lot over the last week and I just don't understand why someone would want to do such a thing. The strangest thing though, to me, is that when I went to argue that I wasn't going to pay out over five thousand galleons, they told me that the payment had already been made."
The Headmistress frowned. "Very strange, indeed."
After interrogating her friends and acquaintances following the evening at the charity auction, Hermione was no closer to finding out how the bid had been placed in her name and by whom. Harry, Ron, Neville, Luna… all possibilities, but it did not sit well to think they would spend their hard-earned money on such a thing. George Weasley was an interesting suspect; however, he was usually a prankster who enjoying watching the fruits of his labour, she could not see what he would gain from it.
"Who would possibly want to send me on a week of dueling practice with my former potions master? Not only that but to spend that kind of money on some practical joke is ridiculous!"
"You definitely don't have anyone in the frame… someone you have your eye on?"
Hermione sipped at her tea. "I don't know that many people with that kind of money," she replied. "I suppose there is Harry, but Ginny would kill him; it's not like my friends are rolling around in money unless you pay Neville a lot more than I would have anticipated."
"You don't think it was a mistake? Someone writing down the incorrect number?"
"I suggested that at the time, but as I said, it was paid before I managed to speak to anyone, and no one will tell me who made the payment." Hermione sighed. "There was some sort of confidentiality charm.
Minerva sighed. "Well, if I were you, I would contact Severus and arrange a suitable time. He lives in the most beautiful home, which even has a little guest house, so I am sure it won't be too awkward."
"Awkward, as in staying at the house of Severus Snape because some mysterious practical joker thought it would be a good idea?" Hermione deadpanned.
"Have you explained the situation to him? Does he know you didn't place the bid?"
"Not really," she frowned. "He bid me a pleasant evening and said he would be in touch. I didn't really have much of a chance to say anything at all. We didn't have any sort of conversation about it."
"Well then, consider it your good fortune and make the most of it."
"Good fortune! How could it possibly be good fortune? The man could barely stand me at school, and I think I have only had about three conversations with him in almost ten years."
"Well, you're not at school now, Hermione." Minerva chuckled. "Ask Severus to take you to one of those champagne houses where the Muggles make their bubbly wine, if you're lucky they'll offer you a little tipple at the end of the tour."
"As if he'd do that!" Hermione scoffed a little too impolitely for her own comfort.
"Och, Severus is fond of a culture and especially culture that involves a little drink." Minerva laughed. "Once you get to know him a little better you will see that he isn't quite the stick in the mud you imagine. We went to the Whisky Museum in Edinburgh once, a few years ago now; it was quite an outing, let me tell you."
"Maybe you should go, instead" Hermione suggested, observing the twinkle in the Minerva's eyes as she reminisced. "You'd probably have a wonderful time."
"Nonsense, what am I going to do with dueling lessons, at my age?"
SS
Hermione had enjoyed her trip to Hogwarts to have tea with Minerva McGonagall, but she was no closer to discovering who had placed her bidder's number next to the highest bid. It had been over two weeks since the auction and she had rendered no clues at all.
There was certainly some merit in going anyway if, as Minerva had suggested, Snape had a guest house and lived somewhere interesting that she could explore. Perhaps he would be relieved that she was not interested in dueling and would leave her to her own devices for the week? He had yet to make contact, but she resolved that depending on the tone of his letter, she would suggest it to him.
Several days later as she sat upon her dusky green sofa; picking at a bag of Cadbury Giant Buttons; watching the Eurovison Song Contest, and sipping at a large glass of Merlot, she noticed vibrant yellow eyes at the window of her living room, shortly before the tapping began. Getting up and grabbing a couple of pieces of chicken from the fridge she returned to the window and opened it, allowing the rather large owl to hop on to the window sill, its sharp talons clicking on the wooden surface as it danced around waiting for its reward.
"Lift your leg so I can see what you've got," she instructed. "It's no good hopping about, I'll not part with any chicken until you settle down."
Obediently, the bird lifted its right leg, presenting a scroll.
"Thank you," Hermione rewarded the bird with strip of chicken breast, which it gobbled down greedily. "That wasn't so difficult now, was it?"
The parchment was tightly rolled; Hermione broke the red wax seal carefully, keeping a watchful eye on the delivery owl as it paced the window sill.
Miss Granger,
It appears that our meeting a fortnight ago will not be our last now that I have now learned that you possess an interest in competitive dueling which I have, until now, been wholly ignorant. The purpose of this missive is to ascertain a suitable date in which you will be able attend the private dueling lessons which you recently won at auction.
I have listed below a selection of three weeks in which I will be available, please reply with your preferred week of attendance.
Week of Monday 9th June
Week of Monday 23rd June
Week of Monday 7th July
Training will be held at my residence, which is situated in northern France and will consist of two training sessions a day, of two hours duration, for seven days. What you choose to occupy yourself with outside of these lessons is your own affair. Ensure you pack suitable attire – meals will be provided.
Once I have received your instruction with your week of attendance, I will arrange the necessary portkeys for your travel.
Please send your reply with Hadrian.
Sincerely
Severus Snape
It was written the same spiky hand that she recalled being adorned across almost every assignment she had ever submitted to him at Hogwarts. Though it was a very straightforward and practical letter, it was probably the nicest written communication she had ever received from him. He had not referred to her as a 'know-it-all', not even once.
Hermione walked over to her calendar and saw that she had very few engagements in June but had circled July for a possible visit to Australia to see her parents. If she were going to go in June, it made sense to go earlier, rather than later and get the whole thing over with as soon as possible. Minerva was right, she may as well go and use her free time to explore and have a bit of a holiday.
Ten minutes later she tied her reply to Hadrian's leg, gave him another piece of chicken and opened the window. The owl wasted no time in taking to the air; even as she watched him flap his wings to gain height, a wave of anxiety rolled over her. Hermione wondered if she was doing the right thing in going along with the farce, instead of making her excuses.
SS
Being more of an office based professional, Hermione was not exactly furnished with clothing she deemed suitable for being thrown across a room by an unblocked spell. In the end she had settled for several pairs of loose-fitting trousers and a small number of casual outfits for exploring the local area. As she was committed to only four hours of lessons a day, she would have plenty of free time during the day as well as the evenings, after dinner.
He had arranged for a portkey, situated only two minutes' walk from her flat to a location on his grounds, where he said that he would meet her. As she clutched her small bag tightly, she felt distinctly nervous, which was silly, as it was not as if she was meeting a total stranger. At school she had been desperate for his approval; now she had nothing to prove, they were equals and she would not allow herself to be intimidated.
The portkey was an old metal bucket, with a large rusty hole at the bottom. She checked the time and found that she was punctual as usual. Her stomach felt like it was full of lead as her nerves threatened to get the better of her, she mentally chastised herself. During the war she had fought Death Eaters when she was no older than fourteen, she could bloody well handle Severus Snape as she approached thirty. Checking the time again she saw that it was exactly ten o'clock and time for her to be on her way.
Hermione landed with a bump but managed to stay on her feet; her first impression was that she was in the countryside and it was a beautiful sunny day. Patting down her trousers and straightening her jacket, she looked around to see if Snape was nearby. As if he could hear her thoughts calling to him, he appeared from behind a large oak tree.
"Miss Granger, I am pleased to see you have made it in one piece."
Hermione immediately noticed that he was much less formally dressed than she had seen him at the auction, this time wearing a pair of dark brown trousers, a beige waistcoat and a white shirt – no cravat. It was rather bizarre, surprising and more casual than she had ever thought him capable. It was almost comforting to see that the long hair and beard remained, or else she may have taken him for an imposter.
"And I am pleased to see that I haven't landed in that bush over there," she pointed at a rather foreboding hedge, just a few feet away.
"We both have reasons to be thankful then, do we not?"
Hermione looked up and him as he approached and was made immediately aware of his amusement. She had noticed this expression the night of the auction when they had briefly spoken. Quite what he found so amusing remained to be seen.
"Where are we?" she asked. "France, obviously, but where is the nearest town?"
"We are approximately seven miles from Epernay and less than twenty miles from Reims." He replied. "Come let us make our way up to the house, it is just a five-minute walk along this path."
They both began the walk in silence; Hermione wondered if he had given any further thought as to why she may have bid on the lessons, and if he was aware that she had not intended to win the prize at all.
"Miss Granger, may I ask why you decided to bid for these lessons?" he asked as if he had been listening to her thoughts. "I don't recall you being particularly talented in this area."
Hermione cast a wry glance up as him as they walked and noted that he remained expressionless. They had barely managed a five-minute walk before he had tried to take her down. "If you must know, I didn't bid on your precious lessons," she snapped.
Snape stopped abruptly and turned to face her. "What do you mean?' he asked, confused. "You won the prize because you placed the highest bid."
"Look, I didn't place any bid, someone else must have placed my number on the bid sheet."
"Why would they do that?" He appeared genuinely confused.
"Good question, I would like to know the answer to that one too." Hermione placed both hands on her hips. "I've asked everyone I can think of and come up with nothing."
"What makes you think someone would admit to such a thing?' Snape asked, his brows furrowed. "If this person hid their tracks enough to prevent you discovering their identity, they are hardly going to come out and admit it simply because you asked. Honestly, Miss Granger, that is simple common sense."
"No need to be patronising, I'm just telling you what I know!"
"Do calm yourself, I am simply stating the obvious."
Hermione looked up and him and was made immediately aware of his irritation at her reaction. "I am calm," she sighed. "This is just really confusing."
"Why are you here at all?" he questioned. "If you have no interest in this venture, I don't see much value in carrying on. You can leave now if you wish." Snape grandly gestured back in the direction from where they had walked.
She was a little taken aback and rather felt she was being dismissed, which she detested with a passion. "Because someone bloody well wanted me to have these lessons, so I will!"
He studied her face briefly. "Come then, I will show you to your quarters." His look of irritation quickly turned into one of amusement once again.
As they walked in silence, Hermione found herself surprised at her own reaction to his dismissal. Merlin, did that mean she wanted to go through with this, that she may be been looking forward to it deep down?
As they approached the property, Snape opened the small wooden gate, allowed them both to walk through and into a small courtyard, before closing it again. In front of them was a two story, stone-built, manor house, which looked positively ancient from the outside. Ivy grew up one side and was threatening to swallow the other if given the opportunity. To the left was a smaller cottage and to the right was what looked to be a stone-built barn with a thatched roof.
Snape gestured to the cottage. "This is where guests stay." He tapped his wand and watched as the faded green door opened with a slight creaking noise. "Step inside, if you please."
Hermione was immediately taken by the beautiful red terracotta tiles decorated with faded white fleur-de-lis which adorned the floor of the hallway and towards what she assumed was the kitchen at the back of the house. The walls were painted a very subtle grey with white paneling on the lower half and what looked to be oak beams on the ceiling.
"You will find the bedroom upstairs along with the amenities, down here is a small kitchen. I will provide you with use of my house-elf, Gilmere, who will be happy to see to any of your immediate needs. You may have dinner here or with me in the main house; I eat at six o'clock in the evening, but do not have breakfast so you will need to sort yourself out in that respect, speak to Gilmere if you wish it. Our lessons will begin promptly at eight in the morning and then again at two in the afternoon. Please see to it that you are properly attired and prepared." He paused briefly. "Do you have any questions?"
She actually had a great many questions but reined herself in to the most pertinent point for now. "Do lessons start this afternoon or tomorrow?"
"I thought you might appreciate the afternoon to explore and familiarize yourself with the area and that we would begin tomorrow."
"I see."
"As I said, dinner will be at six or if you wish to eat here or down in the one of the towns, do what pleases you."
"Is there a wizarding community here?" The house seemed very old and very Muggle.
Hermione noticed his jaw clench. "No, I choose to live away from all of that."
"Okay, well, thank you for letting me stay here, it's very beautiful."
"Until later then." He did not wait for her reply, instead turning and walking out the door, closing it abruptly as he left.
"Well," said Hermione to herself, "let us get on with exploring then."
She wandered around the small kitchen first and was pleased to find that there was a kettle, tea bags, a bottle of milk and a tin of biscuits. All the cutlery and crockery seemed to be in order, and she was confident she would be able to rustle up something if called upon. Hermione's opinion on the slave labour of house-elves fell into a bracket which could loosely be headed, 'Last Resort'.
The ground floor of the cottage did not appear to have a living room, but it was obvious it was a very old building and so she assumed Snape had been reluctant to expand it magically. The kitchen had a small table and chair the far corner by the window, so it did not seem to matter all that much.
Upstairs was a bathroom with a shower and one large bedroom. The bedroom was rather beautiful with a large window at each end of the room and a king-sized bed situated in the middle. The white painted walls and high ceiling, with oak beams, made the room feel bright and spacious. It was such a beautiful day she opened both windows a few inches and immediately felt a warm summer breeze enter the room.
One of the windows looked out at the countryside, the other looked out across the courtyard to the barn opposite. Either he owned a small farmstead, or the barn was his training room - Hermione guessed the latter.
The afternoon was spent taking a walk along the path which led back to where she had arrived by portkey. It was very peaceful; she could easily see why someone such as Snape, who seemed to avoid people whenever possible, would find the location ideally suited to his needs. Eventually she came to a road and saw her first grape vines growing in the opposite field. Walking just a few more minutes she realised that almost all the fields seemed to be full of grape vines.
After wandering slowly back to the cottage Hermione sat on a bench in the back garden and felt a calm peace, so much so that she had almost forgotten why she was here in the first place. She wondered what Snape did with his time when he was not training. Did he read? Did he have another business? He had a natural talent when it came to potions, so did he have a laboratory?
Hermione rustled around in her bag and found her book; a novel based on the life of Thomas Cromwell, which her Muggle neighbour, Kathy, had been going on and on about for the last several weeks. Having been educated in a wizarding school she was not immediately versed in English early modern history, so Hermione had also brought a biography of Cromwell too, as a sort of travel guide through history.
She could not have told you how long she had been sitting in the garden, reading, when he approached.
"I see you have found a suitable place for quiet recreation."
Hermione flinched, having not heard his soft footsteps in the long grass. "Goodness, you made me jump." She held the thick hardback novel to her chest.
Snape moved to stand in front of her, casting a shadow over the bench. "And what are you reading? What has you so enthralled?" he asked, evenly.
She held to book out at him. "It's a novel about Thomas Cromwell, he was a sort of right-hand man to Henry the eighth, I assume you know who that is?"
"I am not a complete imbecile." Snape quirked an eyebrow and held out his hand for the book before opening the cover to read through the summary on the inside of the dust jacket. "It seems he lived an interesting life." He handed book back to her. "How are you finding it?"
As she took the book back into her possession, she looked at him quizzically. "You have an interest in Muggle fiction?"
"I read," was his curt reply. "Would you say that you would recommend this particular book?"
Hermione studied him momentarily and, not for the first time, compared the man before her with the one she had known as her teacher. As he had handed her the book, she noticed the signet ring, still encompassing his little finger. The other ring she had noticed the evening of the auction was absent. He presented a more casual figure than the Severus Snape she had spoken to that night, or indeed the one from her time at school.
"It's interesting so far, I am only a little over a hundred pages into it."
"Perhaps you will be good enough to provide a recommendation once you have formed an opinion?"
Hermione smiled. "Of course." Books were such a safe topic of conversation where she was concerned, and she rather felt that Snape was the same. "What about you? Do you have a recommendation for me?"
"I couldn't possibly make a recommendation without being familiar with your interests," he replied. "You are free to browse the library after dinner, if you wish it."
He had a library.
"Thank you, that would be wonderful." Hermione clutched her book tightly, attempting to reel in her enthusiasm.
"I actually came to ask if there was anything that should be avoided at the dinner table? I know nothing of your tastes and Gilmere was becoming rather anxious in his decision making. He was about to do himself an injury with a large copper saucepan."
"You shouldn't use house-elves like that." Hermione grimaced as soon as her comment slipped out but waited for his reaction. Even now, she still hated the thought that they were beholden to their masters, it was not right.
Snape looked down his large nose at her, his face devoid of emotion. "What exactly is that you suppose I am doing? House-elves are born to serve, that is their destiny."
"Do you think it's right that they are forced to wait on you, day and night?" Hermione slammed her book down on the bench. "What if he doesn't want to cook your dinner?"
"What if he does?" Snape replied, calmly. "Gilmere came to live with me voluntarily, so I would be careful what you say around him, he is prone to histrionics and I would like to keep him in one piece."
"You freed him?"
"No, he served me at Hogwarts and when I asked if he wished to continue to do so, he agreed." Snape replied, impatiently, with a slightly raised voice. "Now, in the interests of his health, is there anything you would prefer not to be served at dinner?"
It was a considerable relief to know that Gilmere had chosen to serve Snape and had not been doing so because he had been coerced. Chastened Hermione tapped her lips with her finger thoughtfully.
"Well, I'm not very fond of chicken livers, or anything like that," she answered at length. "Otherwise I am fairly open-minded."
"Unless we are talking about house-elves?" Snape teased.
"We aren't eating the house-elf," Hermione rolled her eyes.
Snape snorted and looked back at the main house thoughtfully. "Dinner will be served promptly at six, do not arrive late."
Obviously, he not interested in her reply as he immediately turned and walked back across the garden. Hermione had found, through her casual observation, that he was fond of stealthy entrances and of abrupt exits.
SS