The Spy
AN: This is was a little idea which 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
The sun was still shining, casting shadows of the tall trees which surrounded the cottage, when Hermione made her way to Snape's house for dinner. Her sandals crunched on the shingle underfoot until she reached the flagstone steps which led up to the solid red door of his house. A heavily oxidised brass door knocker in the form of a grotesque stared out at her ominously. Hermione hesitated, assuming it was a wizarding door knocker, but it remained silent, so she reached up and used it to give the door three firm taps.
It was not long before the door was opened by a reasonably large house-elf wearing a pale blue pillowcase, whom she presumed must be Gilmere.
"Miss Granger, in you come." Gilmere hopped out of the way. "Come now."
Hermione stepped into the house of Severus Snape for the first time and was immediately struck by how different the house appeared from the inside. Now that she had stepped over the threshold and into the hallway she was struck by the sumptuous Victorian décor. It was nothing like the ancient stone-built country manor she had observed from the outside.
The lower half of the walls were partly panelled in dark wood with the rest covered in a burgundy wallpaper. Where the outside of the house was light, the inside was dark; except for the high ceilings, which were painted white to reflect the light down from the chandeliers.
Gilmere gestured for Hermione to follow him along the hallway, passing several closed doors and a wide staircase.
"Master Snape be waiting in here," he squeaked.
The door opened without Gilmere touching the door or the handle; whether it was Snape, or the house-elf, who had used magic, she was not certain.
Hermione pushed the door open further and stepped into what turned out to be the dining room. The large mahogany dining table, with what looked to be ten places set, dominated the room. Almost immediately, Hermione's eyes were drawn to the figure standing next to the unlit fireplace, inspecting a carriage clock, she was relieved to find he was still casually dressed. It would have been more than a little embarrassing if he were in formalwear and she presented herself in her pale-yellow summer dress.
"Miss Granger, you chose to join me for dinner."
He seemed surprised, which was odd considering their earlier conversation in the cottage garden.
Hermione looked back at the table. "Are you expecting other diners?"
"No," Snape cast a wry smile in her direction. "Gilmere likes to keep the places set and I don't have the energy to argue with him. I don't eat in here often and so it is of no mind to me."
"It probably reminds him of the tables at Hogwarts, just a little smaller."
"Yes, that could very well be the case," he agreed. "Let us sit, I know he also values punctuality." Snape gestured for Hermione to take the seat to his right as he sat the head of the large table.
Hermione was amused by the white napkins which had been folded to resemble miniature hippogriffs. "He is very talented; I hope this talent extends to the kitchen." Hermione gestured to her napkin.
"I have never had cause to complain; but then again, I ate the food prepared at Hogwarts more than I did my own mother's cooking, so it is hardly surprising."
Hermione nodded and realised that a great many wizarding children were probably in the same position, at least while they had been at school. His use of the past tense led her to believe that his mother was no longer alive. For all the uncomfortable, intimate, details she knew of his past, she did not know that much about him as a person; to her he had been her teacher and later, the spy, that was it.
"Would you care for wine?" he asked. "We have red and white. I should warn you, however, I am reasonably confident we are being served lamb and Gilmere will strongly disapprove if you select the white."
"Well then, I would be more than happy with the red," she smiled.
Snape reached over to the bottle of red wine and filled the bell-shaped glass in front of her before doing the same for himself. Just as he set the bottle down Gilmere waltzed into the room with a trolly and placed all manner of dishes upon the table, each covered in a highly polished silver cloche.
"Roasted lamb be on the menu." Gilmere proudly announced. "Eat well."
Both Snape and Hermione watched as he wheeled the trolly back out of the room with an extra spring in his step.
"You will have to excuse him; he isn't usually this flamboyant." Snape reached for each cloche in turn and revealed a large leg of roasted lamb, roasted potatoes, peas and an array of roasted root vegetables. "Well, he has certainly outdone himself this evening, I hope you are hungry."
"You mean you don't eat like this every night?" Hermione laughed.
Snape unfurled his napkin and placed it across his lap. "No, thankfully, I don't think I would be up to training if I were presented with this much food as a matter of course."
They both helped themselves and started with safe conversation on topics such as the food, the weather and Gilmere's odd habits. It was not long before their discussion turned to his change of career.
"So, what made you turn to duelling."
Snape wiped his napkin at the corner of his lips and reached for his wine glass, now almost empty. "I found I was good at it and it was something I am able to do on my own." He sat back in his chair. "I am very fortunate that the use of magic comes very naturally to me, even as a boy. I spent almost twenty years fighting in one way or another, to make an art of it… it isn't difficult for me."
"I think I understand," she nodded thoughtfully. "I can see why you wouldn't wish to return to the school.
"Without meaning to boast, my skills were wasted on children," he replied, lazily.
Hermione cast a wry smile in his direction at what would seem to be haughty arrogance, but she knew him well enough, even superficially, to know that he was simply telling the truth. The Half-Blood Prince had been editing textbooks and creating spells as a child, she knew that much.
"Yes, but you weren't there to teach children, were you? You were there because Dumbledore wanted to keep you close."
It was clear that she was beginning to stray into unsafe water as he visibly tensed, she noticed that he also clutched at the arm of his chair with his free hand. "Yes, Miss Granger. I was the spy," he snapped.
They sat in silence for a few moments when, as if regretting his harsh words, he offered more wine, which she accepted.
"So, tell me, why are you wasting your time at the Ministry?" he asked, bluntly.
"Because I am good at it."
Snape looked at her thoughtfully. "Why are you here?"
"Because someone wanted me to be here," she sighed. "I suppose I am also a little curious. You made quiet an impression the night of the auction and I wanted to see a little of that man, to see how he compared to the one I remembered."
"I am the same man, make no mistake. The difference is that you are no longer a child and you are viewing the world through a different lens, where black and white are not so easily separated."
Hermione took a sip of her wine and nodded. "Yes, I suppose there is some truth to that."
"There is a great deal of truth," he countered. "Whoever sent you here had a motive, have you thought of that?"
"Yes, I have, I have thought about it a great deal."
"You have come to no conclusions?"
"The only conclusion I have reached is that the motive strongly depends on who did it. I would imagine that the motive of Harry Potter would be very different to a Ronald Weasley, or indeed a Lucius Malfoy."
"Lucius Malfoy?" Snape laughed. "What makes you think he would send you here?"
Hermione shrugged. "He is as good a suspect as any at the moment; I don't have a motive, so it's still a mystery. How do you know that Mr Malfoy wasn't playing a practical joke on you?"
"I don't, but I highly doubt it. Lucius and I know each other well, but perhaps we are not so close as we once were," he replied. "He isn't here, so I don't see where he gains his satisfaction."
"He wouldn't enjoy saddling you with me for a week, just to irritate you?"
Snape cast a look of minor confusion. "You think I would prefer one of those simpering idiots from that night, begging for my attention. Demanding my time, holding scraps of parchment to my face hoping I will sign it and asking me all manner of personal questions?"
"I don't know, you might."
"There is a reason I live in France in the middle of the countryside," he countered. "Don't mistake me, I enjoy honest compliments as much as the next man, but I wouldn't be inviting one of those people to eat dinner at my table. Their compliments are not honest, believe me."
"Oh." Hermione was rather relieved he seemed to think more of her than he did his adoring 'fans'.
"We are not friends, Miss Granger, but we have had similar experiences," he explained. "Some of our experiences are relatable and join us in ways that other people cannot possibly understand. I also taught you for several years and I know you to be intelligent and able to hold a conversation. Now, let us not dwell, I believe I promised you a visit to the library, if you are finished with dinner, of course."
So, he considered her to be intelligent? Let us see if he still felt the same after their week of woe, she thought.
They made their way from the dining room back along the hallway to the door nearest to the entrance. Snape opened the door and gestured for her to enter first before he followed and closed it door behind him considerately.
This room was one of the most beautiful rooms she had ever been privileged enough to step a foot in. It was a large room, with oak bookcases adorning every inch of the wall. They were interrupted only by the fireplace and the two large windows situated on either side. The room even had a rather narrow spiral staircase in the far corner, which led up to the gallery featuring yet more bookcases.
The wooden floor was covered a large antique rug and in the middle of the room, facing the fireplace was a large leather sofa with two similarly upholstered chairs situated on either side. On the coffee table sat a bronze sculpture of a phoenix, its wings spread wide. Stepping further into the room, Hermione was in awe; she never would have imagined that he would have had such a sumptuous room in his house.
"You approve?"
She spun around and found his standing with his arms folded; a ghost of a smirk plastered across his face.
"I think you know exactly what I think." Hermione smiled. "I could spend my life in this room, surrounded by all of these books."
"As it so happens, this is where I spend a great deal of my time when I am not away from home."
Of course, he would travel a lot to take part in competitions.
"Are most of the books magical?"
"Up in the gallery is where most of my magical texts are stored, to keep them out of prying eyes." He walked over to the couch and sat down in one of the corners. "Feel free to browse and borrow anything that interests you while you are here. I only ask that you not inspect any of the books on the far wall, upstairs, some are rather dark in nature. Down here there are mostly Muggle books, some of which came with the house."
"Are you certain?" she asked attempting to rein in her surprise and enthusiasm. "You don't mind?"
"Typically, you will find that I say exactly as I mean." Snape replied. "I will ask Gilmere to bring us tea."
A couple of hours later Hermione walked across the courtyard clutching three hardback books to her chest. Despite the discussion they held over dinner, Hermione found that he was not particularly talkative. He seemed to value quiet time and permitted her the opportunity to explore the library without interruption, while enjoying his tea and whatever book he had been reading.
She had selected a handful of books, unable to decide which she should borrow. In order to whittle down her choices she had seated herself in one of the chairs, leafed through the pages and drank her tea. Nevertheless, despite his hospitality the silence became a little stifling after a while as Hermione knew how annoying it was to be interrupted while reading. Not wanting to intrude on his time any longer, she made her selection, gave her thanks, and headed back to the cottage for the remainder of the evening.
SS
Clearly there were no magical adjustments made to the facilities within the cottage. Hermione was unlucky enough to discover this fact when she stepped into a freezing cold shower the next morning.
On her return to the cottage the night before, Hermione had climbed into bed and placed Snape's books on the duvet for inspection. The first book she had chosen was a simple history of magical communities in Europe, a bit of light reading as far as she was concerned. The second was a Muggle book about the French monarchy. The final book she had borrowed was called 'Wand and Cloake: The Arte of the Duel' and was an introductory instruction book on competitive duelling.
Needless to say, she had been up half the night engrossed in the first four chapters of the duelling book and now found herself tired and sluggish. Despite her careful packing for the trip, she could not find a single bottle of pepper-up potion in her bag and really did not want to have to ask Snape if he had a bottle on hand. In the end she had settled for a cup of tea.
Having cast a warming charm on the water, Hermione spent a great deal longer in the shower than she would have done at home, as she did her best to wake herself up. It had also taken longer than she had anticipated when deciding what to wear; but in the end, she settled for a pair of black trousers and a loose-fitting lilac coloured blouse.
It was nice to find that a fruit bowl and a fresh baguette had appeared in the kitchen overnight; no doubt Gilmere was being a very attentive host now that he had another person to consider as she doubted that Snape was a terribly demanding on his time.
Hermione was rather pleased to have arrived at the barn five minutes early, despite her sluggish start to the day. Barely a minute had passed when the barn door opened, and Snape stepped out; of course, he would have arrived early.
"Punctual," he commented, "that's a reasonable start."
He ushered her through the door where she was greeted by a large open room with a high beamed ceiling, polished wooden floor and a long and narrow strip of blue carpet which ran lengthways, almost from one end of the room to the other – the duelling piste. The walls were painted white and gave the room a feeling of spaciousness.
"This is nice."
"It is one of the reasons I bought the property, though I had to make many improvements," replied Snape. "Now let us go through some of what you actually know, so we don't waste our time." He marched over to the piste and stood in the middle, turning abruptly and crossing his arms challengingly.
Hermione smiled, he was all business and was taking this a lot more seriously than she had expected, considering that he knew she was not particularly invested in the pursuit. As the day before, he wore trousers, waistcoat, shirt and cravat, only this time the ensemble was a dark blue. He reminded her very much of her professor, the spy.
"Well, I did read a few chapters of one of your books I borrowed last night," Hermione smiled. "So, I have read some of the basics."
Snape shook his head. "Not what you have read. This sport is instinctual so there is no manual of instruction."
So much for preparation, she thought. "Okay, so assume I know nothing at all, that will probably save us a considerable amount of time and energy.'"
Hermione heard him sigh. "You know the rules? At least tell me that much."
"Yes, I am aware of the rules of combat, the bowing and the attempting to knock each other on their respective arses."
"Do take this seriously, I do have better things to occupy myself with if this is all just a trifle to you." He scolded. "Am I wasting my time?"
"No, carry on." Hermione replied, suitably chastised.
He clasped his hands behind his back and began to pace. "In a duelling competition there are three rounds," he began to lecture. "The first you should always try to win; however, this may also be the round where you attempt to learn the techniques of your opponent. Never show your hand early and know that you cannot use non magical means. Likewise, no unforgiveable curses and no spells likely to cause irreparable harm."
"What about legilimency?"
Snape stopped midstride and turned to cast her a withering look. "Miss Granger, if you can effectively perform the spell at such a distance and with speed, you are better than I."
Hermione blushed; she had not actually thought of that.
"Shall we begin with the basics as I believe that's the level in which we are currently operating."
"Fine," she replied, tersely.
He had been very serious when he suggested they should begin with the basics as he spent the following forty-five minutes going on over etiquette and stance. Hermione found it hard to believe that the correct way to acknowledge a fellow duellist was so important; likewise, the number of paces, the technique of the turn, and the choice of posture. Thankfully, once he seemed convinced that she had grasped the preliminaries he moved on.
"Please tell me you are proficient with non-verbal spells?" Snape asked. "It is impossible to duel with any sort of proficiency when only using verbal magic. It is one of the reasons why I believe duelling should be taught at school, but I digress."
"I can summon things, cast a few charms, the usual things."
"What of Disarming Charms, Jinxes, the Shield Charm?"
"Well, I haven't really had cause to use them over the last ten years, so I think we are going to find out."
Hermione watched as Snape raised a hand and silently summoned one of the three duelling dummies. It wheeled its way at a reasonable speed and stopped abruptly at his side.
"I think our next stop should be non-verbal magic, don't you? It is a useful skill, even in everyday life. You should always be one step ahead of a would-be attacker."
It was strange how Hermione had almost forgotten how paranoid she had been after the war when she was out and about. A simple trip to the shops drew considerable attention, but as fewer autograph hunters and strangers approached, and the war faded into memory over the years, she had relaxed. Could she defend herself? Yes, she was reasonably confident. Would she be casting exclusively non-verbal spells? No, probably not.
Of course, if Hermione had known she would be practicing a simple non-verbal shield charm repeatedly, she might have thought to perfect her technique earlier, so they could move on to the part where she tried to knock him on his arse.
"That is enough for this morning, we will reconvene after lunch," he announced after what felt like her two hundredth shield charm. "If you find yourself looking for something to do, you might wish to consider practicing some mild attacking spells, such as a jelly-leg jinx."
"I actually thought I might pop into town and explore for an hour or two, maybe grab some lunch."
She knew she had said the wrong thing when he crossed his arms and frowned.
"This is going to be a very long week if we are only covering the basics in these lessons," he snapped. "I know it has been ten years since you left Hogwarts, but I find myself surprised at your regression."
Hermione startled at his assessment. "Exactly when do you think I would find the time to be casting these sorts of defensive and offensive spells? When I am doing my shopping or perhaps in the office during the weekly team meeting."
"You arrived at that school on your first day as if you had swallowed the textbooks, yet now you barely give consideration to the basics."
"I'm not eleven anymore, I have responsibilities and priorities," she stated, plainly. "I don't have endless free time when I am at home, so today I choose to spend a few hours taking a break. I will return at two o'clock for the afternoon session."
Hermione turned and marched through the barn door; proud of her resistance to his suggestion of practice, but equally stung by his assessment of her abilities. It was true that she aimed to excel in all pursuits, but that did not mean she was not able to make her own choices. It had barely taken her twenty minutes to cast a proficient non-verbal shield charm, something that some witches and wizards were never able to achieve. Was he able to praise her for anything or where his expectations so unobtainable that she was set up to fail?
Hermione walked to the end of the path, across the narrow country road to another pathway, along a hedge to the top of a small hill, from which she could see a town. It was only a few miles away at most, so she looked for what she felt was a secluded wood just outside the town and apparated. Thankfully, Hermione arrived in one piece and set forth to explore and somewhere to have lunch; preferability, somewhere with a little table outside where she could enjoy the beautiful weather and watch the world go by.
SS
The afternoon lesson began with his repeated disapproval of her choice to explore the local area, rather than practice. Again, he derided her abilities with combative magic, which stung more than she would have openly admitted. Hermione took heart in knowing that she was a quick study and her competitive nature came to the fore as she worked to prove him that she could balance work and play.
"You are making some progress, but there is plenty of room for improvement," Snape commented as four o'clock approached. "Perhaps some of the issues you have with technique are though lack of use, rather than inability; nevertheless, we can work on that in tomorrow's lessons."
Hermione nodded, feeling tired. "I can feel some of it coming back to me, definitely." They had worked for the entire two hours on continuing to perfect basic non-verbal spells.
"Can I instruct Gilmere that he will be preparing dinner for two this evening, or will you be going on another one of your jaunty outings?"
This older, less vicious Snape than she remembered from her youth, was still acerbic with a dry with a sarcastic sense of humour. As she spent more time with him, she recognised his drive for perfection in all things, from himself and from his students. It was as if he had taken her decision to explore over lunch as a rejection of his methods, of his teaching, or even of himself.
"If you don't mind my company for dinner, that would be my preference," she replied. "I am curious as to what Gilmere can come up with next."
"I wouldn't get overly excited if I were you," Snape replied, sheathing his wand. "I have asked that he tone down his flamboyance, lest I end the week with gout."
Hermione laughed, "I doubt gout sets in that quickly and you don't exactly look like the type of person predisposed to such a condition."
He began to walk over to the door. "I will see you at the house at the usual time," was his curt reply.
As they parted ways Hermione covertly watched him as he headed back to his home. Her comment regarding his appearance seemed to make him uncomfortable but she was unsure why. He exuded confidence out of just about every pore, but she was beginning to wonder whether some of it was simply an act.
SS