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… again. Phew what a year. Honestly, inspiration has been hard to come by and work has kept me extremely busy. I have often thought of this story in this past year. It will not be abandoned.
Thank you so much to everyone who had read, reviewed, followed or favourited this story.
SS
They crossed the threshold together in the middle of the afternoon; Snape removed his light summer jacket and cast it casually upon a bronzed peg located by the door. He turned to observe his companion, who was fumbling with two, rather large and elaborate, white paper bags embossed with the name of the establishment from whence they had come.
"Why did you buy so much, surely they still sell champagne in England," he chastised. "Or do you celebrate often, raising a glass upon every semi-notable occasion?"
"Very funny," she replied primly. "As I said earlier, I am giving a few bottles away as presents and the other two bottles I will keep for celebrations. Maybe for a wedding or something like that."
Hermione heard him grunt, seemingly unconvinced. Not that she cared what he thought of her purchases, it wasn't any of his business. She watched as he turned and walked the short distance to the library before following.
"You are going to offer me tea, aren't you?" she asked from the doorway, before making her way to one of the chairs.
He casually lifted a medium sized book from table and sat down in the corner of the leather couch, crossing one leg over the other.
"You think me a terrible host," he stated, opening the book, and flipping to the bookmarked pages. "Gilmere will be along shortly, with two cups and a pot of suitable size. Perhaps if you are very well behaved you might find a slice of sponge cake."
Hermione smiled. He was a strange creature, yet she couldn't help but enjoy his company. Of all the things she had expected to come away with from the trip, it wasn't a more favourable, bordering on affectionate, opinion of her host. The almost arrogant demeanour he seemed to have been in great pains to project that night at the auction, she had rarely been seen here, at his home. Instead she found him to be sharp and quick-witted but retaining the dry humour she had almost always known he possessed, deep down.
Whilst on their tour of the champagne house earlier that afternoon, she was a quiet observer. Snape on the other hand, had asked many questions. Considering his reticence in accompanying her, she had been rather surprised. Not only that, but she had seen him, more than once, help himself to extra glasses of the samples they were offered at the end of the tour. Why couldn't he have just admitted to enjoying their afternoon?
There was no doubt that she felt a little lightheaded, having worked her way through about six small glasses of champagne. It was a pleasant, warm, sort of feeling and she wondered if he felt the same. Hermione found herself staring in his direction, though he hardly seemed to notice, or if he did, he had chosen to ignore it. Occasionally he would tap his little finger – the one adorned with the signet ring – against the back of the hardbacked book. She wondered if the ring was monogramed with a family crest or some other personal symbol. Glancing up at his face and the neatly trimmed beard; not for the first time, she felt it suited him.
Hermione hadn't been aware of how long she had been observing him read when he looked up and frowned. His mouth moved as if he had been about to speak, but Gilmere interrupted with the tea. The cheerful house-elf, skillfully maneuvered the small tea trolley around the coffee table, almost skipping with delight as he deposited the teapot, cups, saucers, milk, and sugar in front of them. Hermione's eyes were immediately fixated to the unremarkable silver cake stand, which made its way to the centre of the table, complete with what she was certain was a Victoria sponge cake.
"Will you be wanting anything else?" Gilmere asked, his large green eyes, rapidly shifting between Snape and Hermione.
"This is quite enough, thank you." Snape replied, setting his book down to inspect the teapot.
"The cake looks delicious!" Hermione rubbed her hands together.
The house-elf said nothing but smiled as he wheeled the empty trolley back out of the room.
"I must have been the epitome of good behaviour to be served that cake," she laughed.
Snape smirked. "I haven't offered you any yet, who's to say you qualify for cake?"
"Excuse me!" Hermione laughed, "I've been on my best behaviour all day."
Snape lifted the small lid on the plain white ceramic teapot, presumably to ascertain whether the tea was sufficiently brewed to pour.
"Don't think I didn't see you help yourself to an extra of those strawberry truffles this afternoon. I don't believe kleptomaniacs deserve cake, do you?"
"But you didn't have one, I was just having yours."
"Oh dear. I didn't offer it to you though, how rude for you to just take it. Presumptuous witch." Snape glanced in her direction, clearly amused.
"You're a cruel man."
"I think you'll find that I am fair. Ask the house-elf."
Hermione watched as he poured two cups of tea with the precision, not spilling a single drop of tea. Much to her relief, he also cut two modest, but equal slices of cake, and pushed one of the plates slowly across the table in her direction, with his fingertips.
"You see… fair." He cast a wry smile.
They both gathered their plates and tackled their respective slices of the delightfully moist sponge cake. Hermione's mind began to wander as she ate; thinking upon her host, their lessons, his tendency to give in to her whims. She wondered if she could entice him on another trip. He had probably travelled to all the major cities of Europe, but she had seldom found the time. Would he be amenable to visit one of the historic cities of France? Troyes, Orleans, Paris?
She was brought out of her wool-gathering by the sound of his teacup being placed back on its saucer and was amused to see he had a few small crumbs of cake balancing on the end of his beard. It was reassuring to see that evening the enigmatic and meticulous Severus Snape was only human.
"Why are you staring?" He asked.
Hermione grinned. "Well…" she tapped her lower lip. "Crumbs."
The tip of his tongue slowly ran along his lower lip. Hermione knew it wasn't meant to be a sexual gesture; nevertheless, she could barely drag her mind from the gutter. The idea that should be find the gesture arousing was shocking enough, but that he was him… well, it was unexpected, and she was determined not to think on it further.
"No, lower… sorry."
Suddenly she became overtly self-aware and wondered if he had picked up on her unease at all.
He swept his hand over beard and in doing so had removed the offending items.
"Much better," she nodded.
"Thank you," he replied, reaching for his book.
Obviously, he hadn't picked on any change in her at all, which was quite some relief. It wouldn't do for her to become uncomfortable or skittish in his presence, considering how well they seemed to be getting along. She only has a few days left before she was due to return home; she would return to her friends and her job at the Ministry, and he would continue being mysterious and seldom seen in the British Isles.
Hermione felt some regret that she probably wouldn't see him much, if ever, after their week together was through. She'd been enjoying herself so much that she had all but forgotten that some unknown person had paid a considerable sum of galleons for her to be receiving his tuition. She would need to do some more digging for information once she got home. His teaching had been enlightening, but she had no real interest in it, though she had tried. Once again, she considered asking him if he wanted to skip Saturday's sessions to go on a little sightseeing trip for the day. If they were to spend most of the day together, it would be nice to spend some time doing something of interest to them both. Of course, she didn't really know much about him; outside of dueling, teaching, reading and intrigue.
"What you are reading," she asked, hoping to gain some insight.
"Le Comte de Monte-Cristo," he replied.
"In French?"
He gifted her with one of his withering looks. "Of course, in French. What better language to enjoy the story than in the language in which it was originally written?"
"I haven't read it." How typical for him to be reading something she hadn't read. Where was the book set? Well, that wasn't going to offer inspiration for sojourns away from the house.
"You haven't read one of the greatest books of all time?"
Hermione laughed at his outrage. "I think you'll find that Jane Eyre is the greatest book ever written, actually."
"Put your indignation away, Granger, I said one of the greatest books."
"Okay, fair enough, I'll give you that." Hermione sipped her tea. "Which other books would you say are classics?"
"What a ridiculous question? How can one compare bloomslang skin to ashwinder eggs; they are completely different, but that isn't to say that they aren't perfect in the right situation. Just the same, a book can be cathartic, enthralling, and interesting in the moment. There must be thousands of books that could be considered as classics, if not tens of thousands."
"What of Dickens, Austen, Hardy… I don't know… Hugo!?"
"Good grief, Hardy? I read for pleasure, not to want to throw myself off the nearest bridge."
"The Mayor of Casterbridge is a classic, I'll have you know."
"I'm sure it is if you are looking to sell your wife in a drunken stupor and destroy the lives of everyone you meet."
Hermione grinned. "So you have read it."
"Of course, I'm not a philistine." He looked at her with disbelief.
It was true, no one with a private library of such diversity could be considered as such, especially not when he seemed to read the books, not just collect them.
"Can I get you some more tea?" Hermione asked, about to pour herself another cup.
Snape nodded. "It's getting a little late now for dinner, perhaps we can ask Gilmere to make up a few sandwiches in a little while, rather than one of his extravagant spreads."
SS
That evening saw Hermione sweeping down the spiral staircase from the library's gallery upon hearing the house-elf arrive with a tray of sandwiches.
After they had both filled their plates with a selection of the neatly prepared and cut triangular sandwiches, they sat in companionable silence, the only sound the ticking of the carriage clock situated upon the mantle above the fireplace, the turning of pages, and the occasional ring of the bone china plates upon the wooden table.
"Don't you have a radio or a television?" Hermione asked with curiosity. "It really is very quiet in here."
Snape raised an eyebrow. "And aren't you the very antidote to my silence."
Hermione raised her chin in a show of defiance; even though she knew he was baiting for a reaction, she wasn't hurt by his words, not now that she knew him better. His cutting remarks were his way of toying with his prey.
"When I am not here, it must be very quiet," she remarked. "A little bit of music in the background might be nice."
"It's a library, not a concert hall."
"There is a middle ground, you know." Hermione rolled her eyes and shook her head.
"I am not home enough for it to be of concern and when I am at home, I enjoy the tranquility." He picked up a ham and brie sandwich and took a bite from the corner. "Unfortunately fame has its drawbacks, and I am not one for all that attention."
Hermione considered his remark. "But you looked in your element at the auction. The very epitome of a man drinking in the adoration of his public."
"You consider those irritating autograph hunters to be my 'adoring public'?" he asked. "If I thought they appreciated what I did, perhaps I would feel more tolerant. The truth is they are largely former students with whom no love has been lost through the years. Occasionally I will run in to one of my more talented students, but there weren't many."
"So, was I one of them?" Hermione thought she may as well ask, she had nothing to lose.
Snape considered her for a moment before he replied. "You were an… insufferable know-it-all." His lips turned upwards slightly as he tried to hide his amusement.
Balancing her plate in one hand she reached for a small rectangular cushion and threatened to throw it at him, before bursting into laughter. "You really are a pillock, I hope you know that."
"I've been called worse."
She visibly sobered. 'I'm sorry. I'm sorry if I ever said anything hurtful. I think I always knew, deep down, you were on our side, it all seemed so unbelievable at the time."
"You're determined to spoil my evening, aren't you?" he sighed. "You weren't meant to know. That was the point, wasn't it? I played my part well; lived the part for almost twenty years, and the desired outcome was achieved, was it not?"
"Well yes, but…"
"No! No!" Snape snapped. "I witnessed despicable things… did despicable and unforgivable things. Don't you, of all people, diminish the horror of it all. It was a torturous hell and those people," he angrily pointed to the window, "they have no idea how it was because they were able to sit back and let it all happen to other people."
Hermione was rather taken aback by his sudden anger; underneath his relaxed façade was still the man she had known in her youth, and this man was bitter and spiteful and had fallen out with the world when he was barely into his adulthood.
"You did what you had to do," she whispered.
"Exactly," Snape hissed. "I kept going back no matter the cost to see Dumbledore's plan through to the end. I risked everything, again and again, because that was my duty."
Hermione got up from her chair and sat next to him on the couch. "It was worth it though, wasn't it?"
Snape got up suddenly and walked to the unlit fireplace, picking a small bronze figurine of a unicorn from the mantle, and inspecting it.
"That man took part of my soul," he replied at length.
"Voldemort?"
"No, Dumbledore."
"What do you mean?" She asked, confused.
Snape sighed. "I killed him… and I felt it that night, the pain was indescribable." He placed the figure back on the mantle and turned back to face her, carefully avoiding her gaze. "Spies are always expendable; when the mission is compromised, they are ordered to end their lives. At the end when the Dark Lord no longer required my services, he was quite willing to end it and I was prepared to pass through the veil willingly. Yet, I survived the war, barely, but I can't live a so-called normal life."
"Severus, you're a hero." Hermione shook her head, not quite believing his sudden candour. "How can you not see that the victory was down to you. Dumbledore asked you to end his life, and you bravely carried out every order, knowing the price, no matter how difficult, until the very end, even when it hurt you. And besides, it's simply not possible that your soul was damaged, you did it because he asked you to, that's not murder."
He stood rigidly with his hands clasped behind his back.
She continued. "I don't know what you think a 'normal life' is, but surely this life, this one, was worth it. Look at this house, look at all of your accomplishments."
'I live like an exile," he sighed.
"An exile with a pretty bloody lovely house, who travels across Europe," she smiled. "Honestly, I hope you aren't feeling sorry for yourself because you obviously haven't seen my flat. It's in the middle of London, which is convenient, but even with a magical extension, I can barely fit a couch and a loveseat in the living room, and my dresser is far too close to the bed. And for your information, this is the first holiday I have had in about eighteen months."
At last he looked down at her. "You are entirely too Gryffindor for your own good, you deluded woman."
"If all the attention bothers you then might I suggest that you stop turning up at the Ministry every three or four years, dressed to impress and looking like the most powerful and intimidating wizard in the room. Believe it or not, that will attract a lot of attention."
"I probably am the most powerful and intimidating wizard in the room," he replied, almost petulantly.
He walked to the chair next to the couch and sat down and she found herself unsure as to whether he was being serious or whether he was making one of his dry quips. Pleased that his anger seemed to have dissipated, she saw an opportunity to change the subject.
"I don't suppose we could call an end to the lessons and go on another trip?"
He raised an enquiring eyebrow. "What now?"
"It isn't that I am not grateful for your time, I have learned a great deal," she responded. "It's just that I really enjoyed today, and I thought that maybe you could show me a little more of France, or somewhere you find interesting. I only have a few days left of this trip and it seems such a shame not to go somewhere new."
"I am not stopping you," he replied. "May I remind you that you are not a prisoner here, you may come and go as you please." Snape gestured to the door, inviting her to leave.
"Well, I was hoping you would come with me, that was the point."
"Why, in Merlin's name?"
Hermione smiled. "Because you're good company."
Snape laughed and looked at her incredulously.
"So, what do you say?"
SS
Snape had pulled a few strings and managed to get a portkey the following afternoon to Munich, with an hour to wait until their next portkey to Krakow, Poland. They had checked into a small modern hotel, which Hermione had booked online using her mobile phone.
"Could you not find a wizarding establishment?" Snape had grumbled.
"Don't complain to me, you were the one who suggested Krakow." Hermione replied. "Anyway, you're also the one that travels around, surely you could have arranged something."
"Do be realistic, for Merlin's sake. There is no way an owl can make that sort of journey in such a short period of time."
"Exactly."
He really had been more than a little grumpy about the whole trip, which had the opposite effect to that which she was sure he had desired. Knowing that he had – reluctantly – agreed to go with her, took the bite out of his irritable manner. Instead she was beginning to find it rather amusing; she knew him well enough to know that it was all bluster – if he had really decided against it, he would have simply refused.
Hermione lifted the key fob of her hotel room key to confirm her room number. "I am in room 24 and I believe you are in room 16. Shall we have a little rest and meet in the lobby at say five o'clock so we can find somewhere to eat?"
SS
Unfortunately she'd fallen asleep and ended up being almost ten minutes late. Snape had greeted her with one of his trademark scowls and had made sure to mention that punctuality was a virtue. Hermione responded with an apology and a discrete eye roll when he turned his back to her to open the door. She was amused to find that his uniform of trousers, waistcoat and cravat was ever present, even when walking through the streets of Krakow, whereas she had opted for a knee-length, floral summer dress.
Their hotel was located next to the river, which made the walk rather lovely on a summer's evening. Snape hadn't elaborated as to their destination; they turned away from the river and walked alongside the castle, but he seemed to know where he was going, so she was happy leave the responsibility of the restaurant choice in his capable hands. They didn't engage in conversation, but she didn't feel it was an awkward silence, more a sign that they were both comfortable enough in each other's company that they didn't need to force the conversation. Instead she was able to take in the marvelous sight of the castle, so unlike any she had seen before.
After only a few minutes, they arrived at a vast open square surrounded by pubs and restaurants. Snape looked around as if to orientate himself before urging her to follow him down a narrow alley.
"The Wizarding District is just here," he announced, tapping his wand against a sturdy stone wall, which opened to reveal a smaller square, with what looked like a market in the middle. Wizard's and witches were sitting at tables outside of cafés and restaurants, enjoying their evening.
"Wow, this is amazing," she enthused. "Where are we going?"
"Just around this corner." Snape gestured for her to follow.
The restaurant had a small sign hanging outside of an archway, which read: 'Czarownica i Różdżka'. Hermione hoped Snape could read Polish, because she had no idea what it said as she followed him through the archway and down a small alley which opened to a small, enclosed square filled with tables.
"I have eaten here once before and it did not disappoint, let us hope that this evening is no different." Snape said as they were directed to a table in the corner by a rather excitable waiter who kept smiling at them both as if he had secretly won the lottery but wasn't allowed to tell anyone yet.
It became apparent quickly that they were being noticed, which was something Hermione was used to when she went to Diagon Alley, or any other wizarding location, in Britain. She wasn't expecting to be noticed in a place she hadn't visited, where she was not a public figure.
"We seem to be garnering a little bit of attention," she whispered, covering her mouth as she spoke.
"Its fine," he replied, casually. "We can use a notice-me-not once the food has arrived."
"Why are they staring?"
"Here, dueling is a very popular sport, and you are sitting next to the three-time European Grand Champion."
Hermione looked at Snape as he kept a straight face before glancing across the table to see all the many pairs of eyes looking in their direction, attempting to be discreet, and failing.
"I'm sitting next to a celebrity," she giggled.
Whether he meant to or not, he appeared to preen a little, and cast a wry smile in her direction. She had become so accustomed to being the person everyone knew, she found her own anonymity to be refreshing. Snape, on the other hand, was equally famous here, it seemed, but for an entirely different reason. He wasn't Severus Snape the Spy; the Death Eater, or the Teacher. Here, he was Severus Snape, the Champion Duelist.
The menu was in Polish, but a quick translation charm allowed them to order a selection of different pierogi, stuffed cabbage rolls and grilled sausages.
His earlier irritation seemed to have vanished as he spoke easily about his experiences on the circuit, traveling Europe and sampling the amazing food. He was almost verbose, and a Hermione felt, perhaps for the first time in their acquaintance, that she had penetrated his outer shell and was getting to know the man.
"There is a tournament in Dubrovnik next week, in which I am looking forward to participating. It is a beautiful city too."
"I feel like I have barely left the United Kingdom," she replied, sadly. "Though I suppose there is still plenty of time for me to travel more, if I make the effort and take the time from work."
"You work too hard?"
Hermione assumed it was a question, but his tone indicated that he may have been making a statement.
"Yes, I suppose I do," she sipped at her wine. "My career has always been important to me, and I know I am very successful for my age. When I do take time off, I tend to go and visit my parents in Australia."
"When did your parents move out there?"
Hermione visibly sobered. "I… I obliviated them… during the war. They don't know I exist, and they moved out to Sydney. I managed to make friends with them a few years ago, so we do talk, but it's not the same. I miss them terribly."
"I'm sorry," said Snape as he refilled her glass. "I wasn't aware that you have taken such extreme measures."
"I couldn't take the chance that they would become targets and I would rather know they were safe and happy, than having lost them completely."
"It is of little comfort, I am sure, but you did the right thing."
Hermione nodded. "Yes, although I am very sad at the way it turned out, and I have some regrets, I don't know what else I could have done. It isn't as if I could have told them what was going on, they would never have agreed for me to go with Harry searching for the horcruxes."
"You are remarkably brave, Miss Granger." Snape replied at length.
"And so you are you, Mr Snape."
"I saw you once when you were out on your adventures. You were camping the in the forest and I was searching for Potter." Snape appeared contemplative as he looked into the distance. "I found you first and I marveled at how lost he would have been if it hadn't been for you."
"Goodness me, was that a compliment?" Hermione smiled. "Hang on a moment, how did you know where we were?"
"The portrait of Phineas Nigellus."
"Of course! I had hidden him in my bag to stop you using him to spy on us, but it seems you managed anyway."
"Yes, fortunately, his portrait is excessively interested in other people's business, and he was able to overhear your location."
"Thank you for being there for us, even if we didn't know who had helped."
"Please will you stop thanking me, we've talked about this already."
'Yes, I know. I will do my best not to in the future." Hermione looked down to her wine glass, embarrassed.
"Shall we head back to the hotel?"
Snape paid for dinner, despite her objections. They walked slowly through the streets of Krakow in the direction of the hotel, looking in shop windows and commenting on the architecture and marveling at the castle shortly before arriving back at the hotel.
"Shall we go to the castle tomorrow?' Hermione asked, rummaging through her bag for her room key. "We should have time before we need to get the portkey back?"
"Our portkey is at three o'clock, which should allow plenty of time," he replied as they entered the lift.
The lift door opened on the first floor. "Shall we meet tomorrow at ten?" he asked, holding the lift door open with his foot.
"Perfect," she smiled, looking up at his face. "Well, I guess it's goodnight then, see you tomorrow."
"Goodnight, Miss Granger." Snape exited the lift and turned to look back at her; their eyes locked just before the doors closed.
As she walked along the second-floor hallway to her room, Hermione was struck by the feeling of dread that came with knowing she would be returning to London soon and probably wouldn't see him again for quite some time. She was suddenly aware that she was attracted to him the in the worst way; it wasn't superficial, it was borne of her increasing attraction to him, as a person and she was worried she wouldn't be able to hide it.