The Spy
AN: As always, I make nothing from this endeavor and thank JKR for allowing us to play with her creations.
Sorry it has taken so long to update this story. I was writing at a furious pace earlier this summer, but as current world events occupied my thoughts, I found it difficult to write. As always, I will never abandon a story and I am back writing a little each day.
Thank you so much to everyone who had read, reviewed, followed or favourited this story. You are the reason I continue to write.
SS
Following Snape's very reluctant agreement to join her for dinner at a local restaurant, Hermione had spent the best part of fifteen minutes, the next evening, reassuring Gilmere that had done no wrong. At the same time, she had to listen to Snape sighing dramatically and muttering phrases such as, "Why must you insist on upsetting my elf?" and "Why are you persisting with this ridiculous farce?"
As it happened, they arrived at a delightfully welcoming restaurant in the centre of the town at little after seven o'clock in the evening and were promptly shown to a table outside, with a most pleasing view of a small medieval church.
"Well, this is perfect to do a little people-watching." Hermione smiled, setting her napkin upon her lap. "I could sit here all evening soaking up the atmosphere. We really lucked out with the weather, warm with just a slight breeze."
Snape crossed his arms and looked up the road and into the distance. "If all you wanted to do was to watch people walk to and fro, you could have done that on your own."
Hermione glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, amused at his dramatic posturing and general discontented demeanour. Though not intimately acquainted, she knew well enough that if he really had set his mind against accompanying her to dinner, he would still be back at the house.
"Will you select the wine? I have no idea what I am doing." Hermione handed him the rather robust wine list. "Whatever you like will be fine."
Snape plucked the folder from her hands and began flipping thought the pages and tutting while Hermione supressed an amused smirk. Eventually he selected the wine, they both ordered their meals and Hermione continued to ponder his irritation.
"So, you don't ever eat out then?" Hermione asked, wiping at the corner of her mouth with her napkin. "This seems such a lovely place to sit on a summer's evening."
"Why would I bother? I have perfectly good food prepared for me back at the house, where it is quiet and where I am not forced to sit in the company of strangers."
Hermione grinned. "I am forcing you out into the company of strangers, am I?" she asked as she followed his glare to a table where two women were talking rather loudly.
"I refuse to be drawn into such inane conversation," he sighed. "You were quite insistent on this excursion and I acquiesced, that is all."
"I see," she nodded in reply. "So, what do you do to fill your time then? Apart from training and reading in your amazing library, of course." A change in the conversation was due and Hermione was determined to find out what he had been up to during his wilderness years.
Snape did not reply immediately, and Hermione felt he was thinking over whether to answer her question or tell her to mind her own business. He set his hands on the table before reaching to stroke his chin, occasionally grasping at the neatly trimmed ends of his beard.
"I train other duellists, when I have to time and energy," he replied at length. "It isn't something I do often but there is demand, particularly from the wizarding communities in central and eastern Europe. I don't take more than four or five student's a year, but it pays well."
It made sense to Hermione that a wizard with Snape pedigree when it came to combat, both simulated and actual, would have demand for his service.
"I feel honoured."
"Do you?" He asked, almost sarcastically, leaving Hermione somewhat unsure of whether the question was rhetorical. It mattered not as he continued with his explanation. "I travel to take part in competitions, and I spent the rest of my time, in blessed peace."
"Until 'Know-it-All' Gryffindors drag you out for dinner," Hermione smiled.
"Just so," he replied, clearly amused at last.
"Well I'm enjoying myself; I'll be honest. I wasn't sure at first whether I would, but now that I am here, I am glad I came."
Snape did not have the opportunity to reply as the waiter arrived with their meals; a steak with roasted potatoes for him and a trout fillet with vegetables for Hermione. They continued their conversation, switching the topic to food. Snape had simple tastes which could only have been honed over the years by the food at Hogwarts, as she had predicted. Sausage and mashed potatoes, toad in the hole and a Sunday roast dinner were amongst his favourite meals.
"Do you really not venture out into town? This is so lovely, I think I would be tempted to spend every evening here if I lived nearby, even if I just sat down with a glass of wine and a book."
"You only think such a thing because you do not live here and the novelty of the occasion is getting the better of you," Snape commented. "I am assuming you live in or near London, how many times have you visited some of those tourist hellholes?"
Hermione almost spat out a mouthful of wine. "Those tourist hellholes are priceless works of art and architecture," she smiled, dabbing at the corners of her mouth with her napkin. "But I suppose you are right; I haven't had the opportunity to visit many recently. I think the closest I have been lately is a walk past the British Museum or along Shaftesbury Avenue."
"My point exactly," he replied, "rarely do we visit what is on our own doorstep."
It was almost dark by the time they arrived back at the courtyard outside his house. Hermione made certain to thank him for putting his misgivings aside to accompany her to dinner and Snape reluctantly admitted that he had had a pleasant evening.
A short time later while pulling back the crisp white sheets of the bed, Hermione reflected on the evening and her host. It was obvious to her now that he was nothing like the wizard who had appeared at the auction; if she was mistaken, he hid it well. From their conversation and her own observation, it appeared he was a man of rather simple refinements. Certainly, he appeared to enjoy the finer things in life if his house was any reflection of his tastes, but he was not ostentatious. She was also curious as to his relationship with the witch who had accompanied him that night. Tomorrow would be Wednesday; she still had a good few days of her visit left in which to find out more.
SS
The morning's session had been taxing to say the least. It seemed that he had forgotten, or had chosen, to ignore the fact that she was not here to take on the European duelling elite at the end of her stay. From the moment she had crossed the threshold of the training room, Snape began barking orders and correcting her every move.
"Can we take a break?" Hermione asked, breathlessly, after almost an hour of his instruction. "I need a glass of water at the very least."
Snape nodded, though his reluctance was evident from his expression. While she filled one of the glasses sat upon the small wooden table at the end of the room, Snape was manoeuvring the dummies and other props to create what could only be described as an obstacle course for magic.
As she watched him she was struck, once again, at his dedication to her lessons; he was not benefiting in any way, certainly not financially, and yet he behaved as if she had paid every knut from her own purse. It was this sort of work ethic which created a man such as Snape. There was no way he could have carried out his work during the war without his single-minded determination. Did he ever do anything by half? She very much doubted that he did.
Perhaps that was why he lived on his own, she mused. Maybe he did not feel he could give his time to a relationship with another person. Certainly, there was that business with Harry's mum, but that had been almost thirty years ago. It suddenly occurred to her that that woman at the auction could have been a friend, perhaps even a friend with benefits. The thought almost caused her to spit out a mouthful of water in its ridiculousness. He had always been oddly sexless in her mind until that moment, but now she thought to analyse him as a woman looking at a man with interest.
He was not overly tall, perhaps slightly more than average for a man. Longer hair was not usually something she would go for, but she honestly could not imagine him with any other cut. The beard was an interesting addition which softened the harsh features of his face, and it was nice that he kept it neat and tidy. His eyes had always been dark and penetrating; in her experience he used them well to intimidate and convey his displeasure. He had a naturally slim build, without being too thin – she would describe him as being lithe.
Aside from his physical attributes, he still held much mystery. Certainly, his prickly nature was still very much present, but she did not think of him as unkind. He left her with the impression of a man who refused to suffer fools, she vaguely remembered he had said as much once. Despite all his complaining the previous evening, he had admitted enjoying their dinner in town. Eventually he had told her something of his own preferences and Hermione thought she could coax more of the same conversation from him with some gentle persuasion.
Would she be interested in him, romantically, if they had not been previously acquainted, if she knew nothing of his past and they had no shared history? He was, perhaps, older than a man she would usually consider herself attracted to, but there was something about him that she, and presumably other women, would find intriguing. The realisation was suddenly rather shocking, and she almost wished she had not considered it at all. It felt wrong to be thinking of him in such a way.
"Miss Granger!" he called; voice slightly raised. "Are you going to stand there all morning, or shall we continue?"
Hermione felt herself blush with embarrassment at being caught lost in her own private thoughts and she hurried to set the glass down and re-join him on the piste.
SS
As Hermione had anticipated, Snape had extended his usual invitation to dinner at his home that evening. Gilmere at opened the heavy wooden door to the house and leapt in excitement when he saw her.
"Missy Granger!" he exclaimed. "Master be waiting for you in the dining room."
Hermione smiled. "Thank you, Gilmere."
She followed the elf along the hallway, letting herself into the dining room as Gilmere scampered down the stairs to what she assumed was the kitchen.
Snape was standing next to the elaborately decorated table with a bottle of wine in his hands, inspecting the label. He was wearing an ensemble of black, in contrast to the variety of neural colours she had quickly become used to seeing him wearing. His white shirt was the only contrasting colour, muted by his black waistcoat and cravat. His appearance was both intriguing and disconcerting at the same time. Firstly, she was reminded of his time at Hogwarts, but rather more disturbing was the way she found his appearance pleasing.
"I thought it was about time we sample some of the local produce," said Snape, holding up a bottle of what must have been champagne, rather than the wine she had assumed it to be upon entering the room.
"It never occurred to me that we should be making the most of our location." Hermione held out her hand to take the bottle and inspect the label. "Canard-Duchêne," she read slowly and laughed. "I just realised I know nothing about champagne, I don't know what I expected to learn from reading that." Hermione handed the bottle back to him, aware of his wry smile.
"Does that mean you do not wish to partake in a glass?"
"Oh, not at all! I would love a glass. It only seems fitting, don't you think?"
"Indeed," he replied, popping the cork from the bottle with an impressive display of wandless magic, even managing to avoid any spillage.
Snape plucked a champagne flute from the table and poured carefully, allowing time for the bubbles to dissipate before handing her the glass. He repeated the process once more before setting the bottle down into a bucket of ice.
"Shall we raise a toast?" he asked.
Hermione smiled; he was in a good humour this evening it seemed. "Yes, of course," she replied.
"Then let us raise a toast to you, for your improvement. I shall make a duellist out of you yet."
She found herself flattered at his words and laughed before raising the glass to her lips and taking a sip; the champagne was pleasantly fruity and not too dry.
Eager to repay a complement she raised her glass again. "Well then, before we sit down, I would like to raise a toast to you, for not becoming so exasperated as to consider me a lost cause."
Hermione watched as he lifted an eyebrow in question as he raised his glass in acknowledgement.
Their time spent talking over dinner was pleasant and Hermione was beginning to think that he might be open to one or two more personal questions than she had attempted before.
'May I ask you a personal question?" she asked, hopefully.
Snape sat his cutlery down upon his plate and leant back in his chair, one elbow resting casually on the armrest. "If you must, but I reserve the right to refuse to answer."
"That evening at the auction, you were accompanied by a woman," she began slowly. "Who was she?"
Snape tapped his lips with his finger while casting her a look of consideration as he pondered his reply. Hermione was encouraged by his lack of temper; obviously, he did not think it to be a topic off limits.
"Her name is Lucrezia," he replied at length.
"I see," she replied. "I don't think I have seen or heard of her, was she a classmate of yours?"
"No." Snape resumed slicing at the remainder of his duck breast and pushed a cherry onto the end of his fork. "She attended Durmstrang, if you are interested to know."
"Oh."
"Lucrezia is one of Lucius Malfoy's distant cousins, so I have been told."
Hermione sipped at her wine, triaging the myriad of questions bouncing around in her mind, to one which did not appear overly familiar or rude.
"She is very beautiful." She settled on a simple complement in the hope he would lead the conversation.
'Indeed."
Obviously, he was not going to oblige.
"Have you known her long, then? Is she a duellist too?" Hermione continued to prod in the hope he would be more forthcoming.
"Before the evening of the auction I had known her for approximately an hour. I would not imagine that she duels, but then the topic had not come up in conversation."
"An hour?"
"Yes, that is what I said."
"She was a blind date then?"
Snape's eyebrows reached into his hairline. "Don't be so ridiculous, I merely escorted her to the auction as a favour to Lucius. I am led to believe she is exceedingly wealthy and Lucius rather hoped she would donate to the school that evening."
Hermione laughed, caught out at his unexpected explanation.
"Perhaps she was responsible for sending you here?" he mused, playfully.
"Goodness, I doubt it, why ever would she bother?"
"Your guess is as good as mine, I am simply offering the option."
"I doubt she even knows my name. No, I fear that it may end up being forever a mystery." Hermione replied pragmatically as she stabbed at her last new potato, briefly marvelling at Gilmere's superb culinary skills.
"If I may change the subject, would you care for a tour of the house after dinner? I did not exactly promise one, but I have observed that you seem interested in the place."
Hermione smiled. "Yes, that would be wonderful!"
SS
Following a rather large strawberry parfait, Snape directed Hermione to a large wooden door, opposite the library.
"This is the sitting room, not that I used it much."
Hermione accepted his invitation into the room and was greeted by a brightly lit room with two large windows, a high ceiling and an imposing fireplace. Of course, there were more bookshelves, a sofa and a pair of comfortable wing-backed chairs. The paintings on the wall were landscapes and unless their occupants had left their frames, were of the muggle variety.
"This is a lovely room," she said, "It's just perfect for an afternoon with a good novel."
"I have the library for reading. As I said, I do not use this room much at all, but I agree, it is pleasing."
The pair made their way back to the hallway, skipping the library and instead to a door situated next to the large staircase.
"This is the games room. As with the sitting room, I am rarely in here, but I thought I may as well furnish it as it was intended."
Hermione stepped past him and into the room, which was dominated by a huge billiards table and a full-length window beyond.
"Do you play?" asked Hermione.
"I can play, but I very rarely do. As I said, it is here to fulfil the function of the room, not for my amusement."
The upstairs was simply a collection of four guest bedrooms and the master, none of which they entered, though he did show her a little balcony which looked out upon the garden and the endless vineyards beyond.
"This is a very beautiful view."
"Indeed, it is," agreed Snape. "I do come out here when the weather isn't too warm, it has an advantageous aspect on a summer's evening in that one can watch the sun descend to its depths."
Hermione looked across at him curiously; it seemed that the more time she spent in his company the more he intriguing he became, and she was reminded of her conversation with Minerva. Over tea she had suggested that there was rather more to Snape than bitter unhappiness, which Hermione could see was truth.
"I don't suppose I could persuade you on another outing before my time here ends?" asked Hermione, impulsively.
Snape raised an eyebrow. "Must you try and take advantage of my good humour this evening?"
She felt herself blush uncontrollably and hoped, desperately, that he had not noticed.
"Well," he began after a short silence, "there is only one more room to show you, unless you are interested in the kitchen and Gilmere's domain."
"Really? Oh… well, lead the way then."
Snape turned and walked back into the house, through the french doors and along a narrow hallway, passed the spare bedrooms, to a set of small and narrow flagstone steps. As she followed him, she considered how plain this part of the house seemed to be when compared to the rest of the house, which was all oak panelling and sumptuous wallpapers.
At the top of the steps Snape paused outside of a rather battered and plain wooden door.
"That's not where you keep your mad wife is it?" Hermione asked in jest.
"Literary humour, how very droll," he replied.
Hermione found herself relieved that he had understood the joke in her line of questioning, rather than taken offence. She watched in anticipation as he turned the battered iron door handle and stepped inside, where she followed.
She heard herself gasp and then laughed at the absurdity of her own surprise as she stepped inside the room and looked around; of course, this space made perfect sense.
"You find my workspace amusing?" asked Snape, one eyebrow raised.
"No, not at all," Hermione smiled. "I'm laughing at myself to be honest, of course you would have somewhere to make potions.
The room was large and would be well lit during the day judging by the two large skylights. The walls were white, but almost entirely covered by shelves which were well stocked with all manner of jars and bottles, filled with ingredients. Upon the two of the four work benches sat cauldrons of various sizes, stacked and ready for use. Hermione had a flashback to the first time she had stepped inside his potions classroom as a child, the sense of wonder was the same.
"This would have been the servant's floor a long time ago, but I made some adjustments to the house and thought this would be a good space, out of the way, to indulge my hobby."
Hermione walked around the room slowly; he had quite an impressive array of insects, herbs, preserved organs and goodness only know what else, which even she, as a layman, could appreciate.
"I find cannot spare the time to dedicate to all of my ideas, not as many as I would like, if I am honest."
"It is certainly impressive, but then so is the rest of the house."
"This is my own little principality in the world, where I can ensure things are exactly as I choose them to be."
Hermione looked at him curiously, surprised at such a personal play on words. "Is that why your guests stay at the cottage?" she asked.
"One of the reasons," he replied. "But the principle reason is that the house came with the cottage, and I was loathed not to make use of it. Of course, you must remember that the few guests I have here are rarely acquaintances and I rather feel the separate space is beneficial to use both."
She nodded and understood well why he wished to preserve his castle; privacy was precious when your whole life, the good and bad, had been combed through at length. Suddenly she was reminded of the question she was going to ask him on the balcony.
"I don't suppose you'd join me for another outing before I go?"
"Must I?" Snape sighed. "I refuse to upset Gilmere again, he almost ruined one of the copper pans the other evening, thrashing himself."
"Goodness, is he alright?"
"He is fine, my pan is questionable."
"Oh, well, I just wanted to ask if you'd accompany me on a tour of one of the champagne houses? It seems silly to be right here and not bother."
Snape audibly groaned.
"I promise we don't need to miss a meal; perhaps Gilmere can make us a picnic or a packed lunch?" Hermione offered by way of compromise.
Snape looked at her as if she had gone mad, his glare piercing. "Have you taken leave of your senses?" he asked. "I do not, picnic; nor do I eat packed lunches as if I was a boy still in short trousers."
Hermione laughed, she could not help herself; his affront and turn of phrase, was endearing a way she could not quite explain.
"You find my feelings on the subject amusing?"
"I am not laughing at you, I just found it funny, the idea of you refusing to eat a sandwich from a little bag." Hermione moved away from the window to stand next to him, by one the of benches. "Have you been on one of the champagne tours?"
"I have not."
"Then let's go together, it'll be interesting, if nothing else." She replied enthusiastically. "Wine making is sort of potion, don't you think? Consider it educational."
Hermione heard him exhale loudly through his nose. "Fine," he snapped. "We'll go on this tour of yours and get it out of your system."
"How wonderful!" Hermione clutched at his wrist and squeezed it excitedly. "I have no idea which one, it seems there are so many, do you have any suggestions."
"This is your adventure," he replied, looking down at her hand wrapped around his wrist. "Therefore, it is your responsibility to settle the details."
SS