Chapter 2
Whirling, Hermione's wand-tip was already pointed forward as she glared at the newcomer. "Honestly, Terence, if you need me to explain it to you, then perhaps recruiting standards have dropped further than I thought."
Terence Higgs strode closer, not at all dissuaded by her anger. "What the fuck were you thinking, acting like that at the high table? Do you know how many conversations the two of you provoked by acting like that? And then dancing with Draco bloody Malfoy to boot?! You could not have engineered a situation that garnered more attention if you had set off fireworks and stripped naked for everyone's enjoyment!"
"Oh, come off it. I didn't say a ruddy thing when you almost got caught shagging David Bloomquist last year; I expect the same discretion and trust from you!"
"Comparing the two situations is apples to oranges, and you know it! That was personal, and this isn't!" Higgs rubbed a hand over his eyes for a long moment. "Playing the coquette to gain an advantage is one thing, but in this case? It's madness to try it with Snape. He's the ultimate spy! Merlin, Hermione, why am I even having to explain this to you? It's not as if you didn't have plenty of run-ins with the man while we were at Hogwarts."
"Terence…"
"No. Granger, I know that you are confident in your abilities; hell, after three years of working together, so am I. But Snape… trust me, we never got away with a ruddy thing in Slytherin. It may have looked like it from the outside, but he always found us out and made sure that we paid well and good for it. Always. And now you want to toy with him? It's sheer lunacy, woman, especially given the situation."
"Attaching myself to him would bring me in contact with people I wouldn't otherwise have a chance with and provides me with a bit of cover-"
"Not good enough. Our job is to find the next target and get out. Not to hobnob with the toffs, score a hot date, or otherwise make pleasant conversation." He looked at her pleadingly. "You know that this is a bad idea. Why are you fighting me so hard on this, duck?"
Hermione exhaled, the sharp lance of truth deflating the last of her flimsy argument. "This situation isn't entirely apples to oranges, that's why," she admitted slowly, glancing away. "It's more like grapefruit to satsumas."
Terence blinked in utter astonishment for several seconds as he worked the metaphor as well as the maths. "Wait, you fancy Snape?"
Trying to pull something coherent from the quagmire of her thoughts, Hermione shrugged. "I don't know if I'd go that far. But I enjoyed our interactions far more than I should have. Let's just say that my reactions weren't entirely manufactured." Looking back at Terence, she added dryly, "And I don't think that his reactions were entirely manufactured, either."
"Ouch," Terence finally replied.
"Indeed."
"So now what?"
Hermione sighed, feeling far older than her thirty-odd years. Malfoy's words returned to her then, and she vowed to be doubly cautious; the last thing that she wanted to be was another person to manipulate and hurt Severus Snape. "I stay away from him the best that I can, and we come up with a different approach."
"That sounds reasonable enough."
Narrowing her eyes, she mock-glared at Terence. "No, it doesn't. As plans go, it's utter rubbish and about as substantial as candy floss."
"Hey, don't get all pissy. I was trying to be nice, and you know how difficult that is for me." Higgs smirked, reinforcing his point.
"Oh, shut it. I don't need nice right now, I need clever. Some of that famed Slytherin cunning would come in handy before this evening goes any more pear-shaped."
"And there it is: The Princess of Gryffindor just expressed a definite preference to all things snake." Terence laughed. "But seriously, of all the people to get the hots for, you choose Snape?"
"It's Headmaster Snape," she corrected automatically, a reluctant smile appearing at the evocative by-play; how often had she had to correct her boys? "And I repeat: I don't fancy him. There were possibilities in the air, that's all."
"Liar, liar, pants on fire... in more than one way!"
She punched him in the shoulder. "Jealous that I got closer to shagging a good-looking bloke than you?"
"Hardly. I am, however, more than a bit frightened that you think that Snape qualifies as good-looking. Still, you are right about one thing. If anyone shags a fit and free bloke tonight, it should be me. I'm next in the rota, after all."
She snorted, the romance of the evening wholly vanished. "Alas, it doesn't work that way. Come on, we need to regroup and do a proper bit of planning before we have a go at this again."
Granger disappeared from the ballroom with the mystery and finality of Cinderella at midnight; Snape made several thorough passes of the space without catching a single glimpse of her or her distracting décolletage.
Her presence—and indeed, sudden absence—went strangely unremarked upon the rest of guests, and he left the gathering in a state of souring grace, discomforted and relieved all at once.
You've been around enough Gryffindor tomfoolery to recognise it when you see it, and it's best to steer clear of whatever scheme she's involved in, he told himself firmly. You've enough on your plate as it is, what with Narcissa's demands, not to mention your actual day job…
Still, as the following week wore on, his thoughts lingered on the woman, intrusive fantasies popping up at the most inconvenient times. He spent the better part of a staff meeting utterly lost after the realisation that the massive oaken table was the perfect height for all manner of debauched fraternisation; Severus could only pray that Minerva had been oblivious to the direction of his wayward imaginings as they'd gone over the next term's timetables. The briefest flash of curly hair in the hallway made his heart beat rather arrhythmically, and his dreams… it had quite literally been decades since he'd spent so much time wanking. Thank Merlin Granger was the antithesis of the frizzy-haired, skinny girl of her youth; he'd feel like a right tit if she wasn't so altered in appearance from those days.
It was worse than pure and simple lust. He found himself ruminating on the unexpectedly sharp angles of Hermione Granger's character, and spent more time than he was comfortable with trying to unravel the oddities of their interactions. She was no more a bumbling hoyden then she was a mindless Ministry drone, and Severus found himself endlessly trying to tease out what her true aim might be. In the end, he concluded that Potter must have put her up to something. Why else would she be attending a society supper? Why would she be seeking his attention in such a fashion? Most importantly, how much of her behaviour had been for show, and what was real?
As he silently swept down a dark Hogwarts corridor on a late-night patrol, his thoughts arrowed unerringly back to the enigma of Hermione Granger. We run in such different circles, he mused, the chill air of the hall sliding over him like a slipstream and calming his thoughts. The only way that I am going to run into her again is if I engineer the situation, and that will be no easy task given our differences in station. Either I somehow gain entry into one of her groups- I wonder if she keeps to regular enough patterns that I can stage an accidental meeting in something like a bookshop? - or else I manufacture a reason for her to come to Hogwarts. Of course, it could be nothing individual- that would be too bloody obvious- but perhaps lure her here as part of a larger group invitation? The planning team for the Memorial Ball is always seeking new members, and there is also the citizens advisory panel that has a spot open…
Quite abruptly Severus realised that he hadn't merely been thinking about Hermione Granger for the last week: he had firmly crossed over into the vast wilderness of obsession... and the weight of that particular truth very nearly unmanned him. Stumbling over his own legs, Severus shoved aside the tattered tapestry of Magi Gummarus of Belgium and sunk down onto the stone bench hidden in the niche.
Among other realisations, it was a hell of a time to recognise just how lonely he was.
"I am so fucked," he muttered, slowly banging the back of his head against the wall as he tasted something perilously close to fear. "Fucking fuckity fucker!"
Severus was an obsessive creature by nature. It was a trait that had served him well, allowing him to push past the indignities of early poverty, complete a Potions Mastery with first honours at the tender age of twenty-one, and despite his half-blood status, had provided the lever into the Inner Circle of the Death Eaters.
Obsession had also played a massive role in his downfall. Combined with the swirling internal morass of jealousy, insecurity, not to mention his youthful avarice, obsession had paved the way for Severus to make the most monumental errors of his life. Because it hadn't just been conquering the ephemeral that Severus had been possessed by. From the moment that he had spied her playing on the rusty swings of the Cokeworth playfield, he had been utterly captivated with one Lily J. Evans.
It wasn't that he had thought Lily perfect- Severus was quite aware of the unequal nature of their relationship from the start- but once upon a time, she had genuinely cared about him. Lily had been the lone spot of warmth in his life. Indeed, she had been the only person to offer a hand out in friendship, not to mention a shoulder to lean on during his misbegotten youth.
But things had changed for the worst in their third year. Lily hadn't ever really understood the depth and nature of his sentiment. When finally confronted with the barest hint of his feelings, she had backed-pedalled away so swiftly she might have well as left marks on the Hogwarts flagstones. Then came the fateful day when he'd called her a Mudblood, and their bond was entirely broken.
In the end, Severus' obsession had resulted in her murder. Oh, there was far more complexity to the story, but at the end of the day, that was what it boiled down to. The eventual victory had been a hollow comfort at best and utterly pyrrhic. Post-war, there had been several attempts to move on, but the relationships fizzled faster than a sparkler because Lily remained the ever-present yardstick in his mind. Given his talent for turning everything good into ashes and smoke, he supposed it was for the best.
And now...
Severus hadn't given Hermione Granger more than a passing thought in years. Over the course of a single dinner, she had exploded onto his awareness with all the blinding heat of a supernova. With a teasing glance and the flash of perfect flesh, she had obliterated all his previous constellations; he was left spinning in the darkness of space. And now he recognised the familiar ties of obsession slowly wrapping around him, pulling him into a fresh doom of his own making.
Pitiful and emotionally stunted did not even begin to describe his psyche.
She did seem to return your interest, said a sly voice in his head. It could be different this time…
Bullshite. I haven't changed one bit.
Severus knew that the shifts in his personality over the years were nothing more than a veneer over faulty foundations; in the privacy of his mind, he remained the obsessive and shockingly petty man of his youth. It did not matter if Hermione was any different than Lily- at the end of the day, the essential flaw was still with him. After all, Severus was the one that had driven his only friend away, joined the Death Eaters, then proceeded to get Lily and Potter killed… and those sins were just the tip of the iceberg.
Should he attempt a relationship with Hermione Granger, he would destroy her as he had everyone else who mattered in his life; as the old saying went, just because you painted a panther with white strips did not magically turn it into a zebra.
Fuck, he thought despairingly again as he rose from the stone bench. Obsession hadn't just cost him everything that he held dear; it had quite literally left bodies strewn about in its wake. He'd barely survived with his mind and soul intact the first time… and now he found himself right back at square one.
Burying himself in work was the only panacea, and he clung to the futile hope that perhaps this obsession would fade. And so over the next week, Severus not only immersed himself in the minutiae of Castle life but began flushing out more leads related to Narcissa's missing jewellery.
One such rumour took him to the Hog's Head. Cautiously settling onto a crude wooden stool at the end of the bar, Severus waited for Aberforth to make his way over. At midday, the inn was only sparsely populated, with one corner booth full and a handful of regulars crowded around a low table by a window examining something buried in a wicker basket.
A thunk announced Aberforth's arrival along with a tumbler of firewhiskey.
"I wondered," the older man said with a caustic edge, "just how long it would take you to find your way down and start sniffing around for information."
Snape raised a brow, surprised at the man's acidity. "I've told you repeatedly that my floo is always open to you…"
"So obliging you are, Headmaster."
"Transparency and availability are the bywords of my administration."
The sarky boggerol earned him a snort of sheer disbelief. Aberforth relaxed slightly, leaning into the bar. They did not have a comfortable relationship, not with the shade of Albus standing between them. Still, there was a deep current of understanding; each had seen too much of the dark not to know the dangers of willful ignorance, and neither wished for a return of the past.
Seeing that he would have to be the one to break the ice, Severus spoke. "As you thought, I am seeking information in hopes of returning stolen property to its rightful owners."
"Let me guess: a priceless piece of heirloom jewellery has been snatched from the loving bosom of a pure-blood family, and they have requested your estimable assistance in recovering it."
"That is depressingly spot on," Severus drawled, taking a sip of his drink to cover up his growing feeling of dread; if Aberforth knew that much then he was already hip-deep in Thestral shite and had been totally obvious to it. "Clearly, I am woefully behind in the news."
Taking a leather-bound notebook from a pocket, Aberforth placed it on the bar next to Snape's hand. "You are that. But your cause was not helped by the fact that placing Theodore Nott on the hunt is about as subtle as Malfoy's use of peacocks as lawn ornamentation. Nott needs to learn a decent privacy spell. I overheard him trying to interrogate another one of your snakes about stolen jewellery last week. Combined with the rumours that have been floating around, it was apparent that you had finally been pulled into this mess."
Slipping the notebook into his own robes, Severus suppressed a sigh. "I did, in fact, instruct Theo to nose about like a bull in a china shop, but it seems that I was doing so without the benefit of the most up-to-date intelligence."
"Funny how isolating yourself in an ivory tower will do that."
The comment rankled, especially paired with the knowing glint of cool blue eyes. "Funny, and here I thought that isolating myself in an ivory tower and turning all my attention over to my bloody job was the best choice, especially given how badly the post was neglected prior to my appointment by my predecessor."
Aberforth's expression hardened, and Severus questioned again why the barman was so short-tempered; relations between the two of them were rarely this strained. Finally giving another snort- regrettably, for the other man it was rather hircine in nature- Aberforth glanced away, breaking the stalemate. "You'd not be wrong in that. My brother always did have a very peculiar way of prioritising the people and roles in his life."
"True," Severus agreed. "But if I've learned one thing in life, it is that necessity is a cruel master."
A loud clatter broke into their discussion, bar stools skidding across the floor as something squawked angrily from the basket. "The wee bastard bit me!" a balding man exclaimed loudly, holding bloody fingers to his chest.
"Fergus, what have I told you?" Aberforth bellowed, the crowd around the booth scattering. "For the last time, take whatever is in that basket outside and don't bring it back in!"
"But it's so cold outside-"
"I don't care if yetis have taken up permanent residence in Hogsmeade, I'll not have any more of your blasted creatures in my bar! Get out!"
Snape watched the men shuffle out of the bar hastily, restraining his urge to roll his eyes. Some things never changed. Waiting Aberforth's attention to return to him, he thought over his options, fingering the notebook in his pocket. He's already given me several leads, but given how ignorant I am about the overall situation, I need to make sure to find out everything he knows. Assumptions will do me no bloody good... at this point, I might as well be painfully blunt.
Knocking back the rest of the whisky, Severus composed his next question carefully.
"Aberforth, what is it that has you so concerned? If this were simply a matter of missing jewellery, you hardly would have done this much legwork for me unprompted."
With a grimace, the other man dropped all pretence along with his voice. "Severus, we both know what happened the last time items like this started to go missing. I'm not going to sit back and watch it all go to pot once more. I've written down everything I've been able to glean from the rumours, and added some supposition of my own," he muttered, gaze flickering down to the concealed notebook. "But the short of it? Prized pure-blood jewellery has been going missing for the last six months, only it's particular sorts of jewellery. As far as I can tell, everything has either links to the line of Salazar Slytherin or heavily features some sort of snake motif along with powerful blood warding. Not a lick of it has reappeared on the black market, even broken up into bits and bobs."
"How many pieces so far?"
"Eight that I know of, but there could be far more."
Granger's heart-shaped face floated through his mind then, and he wondered if the stolen items had anything to do with why she had suddenly appeared in his life. "Do the Aurors know?" he asked, testing the theory.
Aberforth shook his head. "I don't think so. Most of the Aurors are half-blood or Muggleborn; they wouldn't be in the correct circles to be in the know. And besides, do you know of any pure-blood who is going to report that they let such a prized family possession get stolen? These aren't merely expensive baubles, they are the foundational items that pure-blood dynasties are built upon."
"Who was the person that you caught Nott questioning?"
"A lad near his own age. Terence Higgs, I believe."
"He was a curse breaker for Gringotts, wasn't he?"
"Yes," Aberforth affirmed dryly. "Until he was fired for theft a couple of years ago."
"And now?"
"He runs a small antiquities shop off Knockturn that has a reputation for buying and selling things of questionable providence."
"Naturally. I'll give Theo credit for choosing a decently visible target to rattle cages. And speaking of targets, any notion who might be next in line for the taking?"
"Maria Travers has frequently been heard crowing about her family's wealth of jewellery as of late, as well as superior wardings. She is a descendant of both the Travers and the Cornwall branch of the Rosiers, so it's not all paste jewels and grandiose pretensions with that one."
"Rather stupid of her to do so in the current climate."
"She is and always has been a blathering old cow. If I had to take a guess, Travers was doing it to rub salt into the wounds of Alicia Greengrass; they've hated each other for ages, and the Greengrass Manor was reportedly one of the first burgled."
"Oh, joy," Severus said, silently vowing to throttle Narcissa's for dragging him into such a clusterfuck unawares. "How I've missed the refined art of pure-blood politics."
"Why do you think I became a bloody barman instead of continuing to play the family game of societal politics? Only fools would spend upwards of a hundred years listening to that regurgitated shite on a regular basis. At least I kick people out when I tire of their useless yammering."
Severus laughed roughly. "I assumed it was for the drink, Aberforth."
"Easy access to that particular vice didn't hurt, I will admit. Another?" Aberforth motioned to his empty glass.
"No." Rising, Severus placed money on the bar. "As much as I enjoy day-drinking, I apparently need to once again have my wits about me."
Aberforth gave him a sly grin. "Let me know if you ever want to buy me out. Might do you a world of good."
"I think not. Lingering around these parts would hardly be conducive to a life of peace and quiet. No, if I flee, a deserted tropical island is more my style."
"That's your escape plan? You would burst into flame if you were ever exposed to that much sun."
"Better sunburned than surrounded by stubborn drunks and ageing goats as you are."
Aberforth sent the dirty glass hurtling towards a back sink with a wordless burst of magic. "Ah, but then we both know a thing or two about dealing with stubborn old goats, don't we?"
"Unfortunately. Some days, I even feel like one." Narrowing his eyes, Severus let the amusement fade from his expression. "For Merlin's sake, Aberforth, if you hear something else of importance, bloody well tell me. I don't like the sound of this any more than you do, and I am not going to stand around twiddling my thumbs any more than you would."
"I live to serve, Headmaster," Aberforth said mockingly, making a formal bow. Shaking his head, Severus strode out into the weak winter sunlight, new plans beginning to form in mind.
Severus spent the next three days plotting and doing some fact-finding of his own; the Hogwarts House-Elves were only too pleased to provide him with all manner of information that they had picked up from the students and staff. It was a pleasingly accurate snapshot of the British Wizarding society as a whole. Combined with several other pointed conversations and Aberforth's notebook, Severus felt far better armed as the current status of pure-blood politics. Dutifully dressing in his finest dress robes for the next dinner, he resigned himself to the long haul of an investigation.
Entering the MacMillan ballroom from a side entrance, Severus took stock of the bustling masses. What had appeared to have been a fairly chaotic jumble before now took on different flavour; he could see the various factions and flows of power between the participants, veiled insults and acts of obeisance… the mantle of spycraft settled onto his shoulders with the ease of an old blanket, but it was a weight that deeply rankled after over a decade of apparent freedom.
Hearing a familiar tinkling laugh, Severus turned away from the crowd. Making his way up a set of broad steps to the foyer and coat room, he slipped behind Narcissa as she was removing her outer robe. Helping to ease the fabric from her slim form, he leaned down to whisper in her ear.
"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't wring your pretty little neck, Cissy."
As intended, she jumped with fright, spinning to face him. "Severus! Don't you look handsome tonight? The grey certainly suits you."
The empty flattery did nothing to assuage his anger. "Your little problem has proved to be far from small, madam, nor far from isolated."
She gave him a practised smile, placing a placating hand on his arm. "Oh, come now. You can't blame for wanting your help in such a complex matter."
"No," he growled, allowing her to lead him towards the ballroom, "but I can blame you for being less than honest with me."
Narcissa rolled her china-blue eyes. "It's not my fault you asked only the most basic of questions before you agreed to help! You've become dreadfully rusty at being a Slytherin, you know. Besides, if you had known the true scope of the issue, you would have demanded that we go to Aurors or do something else as utterly ridiculous."
Her blatant disregard for his feelings stung more than he had expected. "I would have helped you regardless, Narcissa. Haven't I always?"
"I didn't mean it as an insult or criticism, darling. You've just become so very… rule-bound in the last decade."
"And why might that be, I wonder? Just once, could you have told me the entire truth rather than obfuscate and bamboozle me into cooperation? Do you have any idea what you have done, woman?"
Cissy finally heard the note of genuine rage in his voice and stopped, appearing startled. "You are being positively Gryffindor about this." After looking him over, she smiled fondly up at him. "Truly, you should be thanking me. This has banished that dreadful ennui that has been plaguing you hasn't it? My aims weren't entirely selfish in this, I promise. It's important that you get out and about more, darling..."
Her voice receded into a background hum as every cell in his body surged to sudden, electric attention. He'd turned away from Narcissa, and let his gaze sweep over the party. There, across the way, Severus made eye contact with the very witch who'd been haunting both his dreams and his waking fantasies: Hermione Granger.
It felt like a punch to the gut, and for a brief moment, it seemed like they were the only two people in the room.
She was dressed in an emerald green gown this time, the heavy, dense drape of the cloth proclaiming it to be made of the finest velvet. It would have been modest- the medieval, long-sleeved gown covered her shoulders down to her ankles- had there not been a long slit exposing one creamy thigh, and another down the bodice that displayed a narrow glimpse of her lush breasts. Her curves had been curated into perfection by a black silk over-corset, and Severus' mouth went dry at the sight.
Her dress was like a red flag to a bull; why else would Hermione Granger choose to wear that exact shade of Slytherin green, if not to send him a message? To gain his attention?
The entire ensemble should have been tawdry and camp, the epitome of Slytherin-styled sluttiness, but on Hermione, it wasn't. Perhaps it was the wild, forceful curls that demanded so much space around her, or maybe it was simply the way her personality shone through, defying all convention. In his eyes, she appeared to be nothing less than the goddess of an autumn hunt come to life- Hecate in hot pursuit of a dark god.
And by all that was holy, he wanted nothing more than to be her Cernunnos.
She was speaking animatedly with Duncan Burke, and the leering bastard's thoughts were clearly travelling down the same path as Severus'. When the man extended a finger to trace down the front of Hermione's corset, something in Severus snapped.
Mine.
Possessive, hot anger filled him, and he found himself striding through the ballroom at full billow. Vaguely, he was aware of people scattering out of his way like frightened pigeons. In less than twenty seconds, he had crossed the room and was standing in front of Hermione and Burke. The other man took one look at his face and backed away hastily.
Hermione's expression hadn't changed from the bright, slightly oblivious, social smile that she'd been using on Burke. He reflected grimly that it wasn't too far off from Narcissa's earlier simper.
"Dance with me," he demanded, voice close to a growl. As if on cue, the orchestra struck up a waltz.
For a painfully long second, she didn't move.
And then, like an imperious queen, Hermione's arm came up. She allowed herself to acquiesce. He took her delicate hand within his own, making sure to keep his touch gentle. As their fingers met, she sucked in a quick, ragged breath, and Severus was comforted by the knowledge that he wasn't the only one affected by the electric madness that arced between them. Some of the anger roiling about him abated at the tell, and he pulled her close. Walking them to the edge of the dance floor, he bowed. She curtsied in return, the music swelled around them, and they were off.
After nearly two weeks of thinking non-stop about Hermione, it was such a relief to hold her, even within the limitations of a public waltz. The slight but real press of her body against his was welcome torture, and he drank in the small details of her person that he had missed before.
Hermione met his blatant perusal with one of her own, fathomless eyes sweeping over his lean frame. To his surprise, she did not wear any scent or perfume. Only when he spun her into a dip did he catch the faint, warm smell of her skin. It brought to mind moonlit bedchambers and his fevered dreams; Severus was suddenly grateful that he had chosen to wear wizarding robes rather than a closer fitting Muggle tuxedo. Fighting the urge to yank her off the dance floor and into the nearest private room, he closed his eyes and solely focused on bringing his breathing under control.
Opening his eyes again, he caught the scandalised and censorious expression of someone in the crowd. A renewed wave of anger rolled over him, followed closely by shame.
So much for my vaunted notions of self-control, not to mention any pretence of proper decorum… Severus knew that he was acting little better than a possessive, adolescent brute. He didn't know what had disgusted him more- watching another man touch Hermione or the fact that he had no command over his emotions around her. At a well-worn fifty, he should have far more self-control than he was currently displaying. Moreover, he reminded himself censoriously, I have no claim over this woman... For a multitude of reasons, it was too dangerous to allow his behaviour to remain unchecked; reaching for the cold chill of his mental shields, Severus ruthlessly pulled them into place.
It had been a long time since he'd donned this level of occlumentic shielding, and it hurt to do so, especially unprepared. The all-encompassing sensation was not unlike leaving one's hand in a bowl of ice water for too long, and the world seemed to darken, grow flat and less welcoming. Then he was numb to his feelings, and oddly, that also hurt.
As if sensing his distress, Hermione's thumb slowly stroked his, once, then twice, the subtle motion hidden by the movement of the waltz. It was more comforting than sensual.
"This is a very poor idea, Headmaster," she said, voice pitched low enough that the other dancers could not hear. She still wore a brilliantly false smile, head cocked at a teasing, flirtatious angle. Perhaps she was referring to their dancing together, or maybe she was making a less obvious reference to a relationship. Hell, maybe Granger was merely pointing out that shoving his soul into cold storage was a poor idea; regardless, they were all choices that led to nothing but trouble.
"Don't I know it," he rumbled in affirmation, seeing an answering flicker of sorrow in her gaze. The next few steps found them in perfect, miserable harmony.
Repeating her gesture of comfort, he let his thumb trail down to her wrist and back again. They remained silent, and he watched with a detached sort of curiosity as the bourbon brown of her eyes slowly darkened to a dull espresso. Granger was occluding as well, he realised with a dull horror.
Looking away from her, Severus focused mechanically on the steps of the dance. It wouldn't do to stumble now.
Narcissa was waiting for them with champagne when the waltz ended; to his mild surprise, Lucius was at her side, appearing suavely annoyed.
"Severus, you naughty man! You left me standing quite all alone in the foyer, and I was forced to appeal to my husband for rescue."
"You both seemed to have survived the experience," Severus drawled, wondering how on earth Narcissa had dragged the elder Malfoy to this supper. The man had not taken to his loss of status and influence well; whilst he still had a decent circle of friends to socialise with, it had taken years for him to finally submit to the bitter sentiment that it would be best for Cissy and Draco to publicly represent the House of Malfoy rather than him. He usually avoided events such as this like the plague, seeing them as a waste of his time.
Narcissa's blue eyes slid over to Granger. "Ms Granger. What a surprise to see you here. Weren't you just at Alicia's dinner last week?"
Granger beamed like a demented puppy at the hostile greeting. "What an excellent memory you have, Mrs Malfoy. I was." And then in a spot-on mockery of Narcissa's examination, Granger let her eyes trail over to Lucius. "And Mr Malfoy! How surprising to see you out and about. Time certainly flies, doesn't it? I hadn't realised that your house arrest had ended already."
Malfoy sneered at the veiled insult, hand tightening over his cane. "Basic maths can't be everyone's strong suit, my dear."
Granger chuckled, the sound light and insubstantial. "You are so very right! Well, it appears that your confinement was for the best- one would hardly think that you've aged! Avoiding all the damaging free radicals in the environment does wonders for one's skin, doesn't it?"
A roar of honest laughter sounded from behind him, and Severus turned as Draco swooped in to the rescue. Deftly plucking the two glasses of champagne from the hands of his mother, Draco proffered one to Granger. "Cheers," he said roguishly. "That was a magnificently crafted barb on several levels. I am quite impressed, Granger."
"Was it?" Granger remarked casually, sipping the champagne with studied indifference. "In that case, my prime directive in life has finally been fulfilled."
"Excellent. Put your knives away and let's go celebrate." Waving an arm towards the rapidly filling dancefloor, he added, "Ah, a Scottish reel. My favourite. Do come along. I think that you will find that reels are so much more invigorating than waltzes."
Granger raised an elegant brow and did not move. "And if I don't care for any more dancing?"
Not at all deterred, Draco expression turned smug. "Then we can go sequester ourselves in a dark corner, and you tell me more about your… cat."
Rolling her eyes with evident exasperation, Granger wordlessly floated her glass onto the tray of a passing house-elf. "I can't imagine why you are so interested in learning more about my pussy, Draco."
Utter silence reigned for the space of three heartbeats.
The shocking retort had all the effect of a physical impact; Narcissa's jaw dropped open quite unbecomingly, and Lucius went red-faced, sputtering with rage. Even with his reaction filtered through his strongest occlumentic shields, Snape couldn't help but feel a burst of horrified humour at Granger's quick-witted, pointed retort; it certainly halted all questions as to why Granger had chosen to attend this event. To his surprise, Draco's expression only shifted into a pensive sort of amusement.
"You really are frighteningly diverting tonight, Granger. Come walk with me." Draco extended a hand, an echo of Severus' earlier action without the demand. "Please."
"If you insist," Granger murmured, ratcheting up the wattage on her smile once more. "I don't suppose I could prevail upon you to introduce me to several people?"
"Gladly." Sweeping Granger away with a flourish, Draco hastily disappeared into the depths of the crowd.
Narcissa had finally pulled her expression back under control, but Lucius still appeared to be choking on his own bile.
"That was... unexpected," she said at length.
"Was it?" Severus asked, a bitter apathy flavouring his tone.
Surveying the gawking guests around them, Narcissa spoke bracingly to Lucius. "Darling, Alicia and Joan are headed this way at speed. I promise you that you don't want to get trapped by our little discussion. Why don't you go fetch more champagne and rescue Severus and I after a decent interval? And do fetch the good stuff this time. I do believe that we all have earned it."
"As you wish." Lucius took off like a Snitch being chased by the proverbial Seeker.
Severus raised a brow. "Now there is a surprise. That gambit was as effective as a banishing spell."
Smoothing her down her robes with perfectly manicured hands, Cissy gave him a tight smile. "It wasn't a gambit, it was part of a plan. I informed Lucius that La Guivre was missing, and if we wanted it back, we would be doing things my way for once."
"And that call to cold logic worked?"
"For now, he is cooperating."
"And pray tell, why am I not being allowed to escape along with your husband?"
"Because," Narcissa replied chidingly, "you indicated not twenty minutes ago that you wished for a higher level of honesty to exist between us. I've arranged for you to speak with several of the other women who are missing items so that you can hear their stories first-hand."
"Huzzah," Snape said flatly. "I am so pleased that you've seen the light. Can you also see fit to find us a more private place to speak?"
Snape remained firmly in Narcissa's clutches for over three hours, questioning six society matrons. What he learnt was not comforting; most of the jewels stolen had been well-guarded, and there were no apparent clues as to the manner or persons behind the thefts.
Elizabeth Selwyn was the last person he spoke to. In her eighties, she was graceful and dignified, reminding him strongly of Minerva. Having lost a husband, several brothers, and two sons to the pure-blood cause, she was blunt about her concerns.
"I am a historian, Headmaster, not to mention a practical woman. Given more recent events, it stands to reason that once again, some puffed-up jackanape thinks that great power or immortality awaits him if only he steals the right object, much to the detriment of the rest of us."
"Have you heard anything lately that might connect to these thefts?"
She made a moue of distaste. "There is always some rumour or another floating about. You know how it is. Several years ago there was a supposed prophecy going around about the restoration of bloodlines, but a group of us wives firmly nipped that nonsense in the bud." Making a slicing motion with her hand that made him want to cross his legs, she continued briskly. "There are more women left than men, you know, which shifted the balance of power over to us. To be frank, we are all heartily sick of death cults masking themselves as social movements and then making off with too many of our loved ones."
"As am I, madam."
Selwyn gave him a sharp nod. "Good."
"Has there been anything about these thefts that strike you as peculiar?"
"Only that specific pieces are being taken, and not entire collections. You would think that once the thieves made it past the protections, they would simply take all valuables, but that has not been the case."
"That is an interesting point," Snape conceded. "It certainly speaks more to a particular motivation driving the thefts rather than base greed."
"Just so."
"Out of curiosity, have you changed any of your protections?"
"Only established entirely new blood wards and chosen stronger ones at that." She gave a self-deprecating chuckle. "Well, and one more thing. For the first time in my life, I've broken my prohibition on animals in the bedroom. I've taken to letting my Crup, Alfred, sleep at the foot of my bed. He puts up quite the satisfying fuss when anyone tries to enter. It may be shutting the barn door after all the Granians have flown, but having him there allows me to sleep a touch easier."
Snape leaned against the wall watching the colourful rise and fall of the dancers, letting his mind wander along with the music. He had gained information aplenty, but it was unclear what was of genuine importance and what was mere chaff. Short of being called to the scene immediately after a theft, he was doubtful that he would be able to shake out any significant revelations about the person or persons behind the crimes. It would take weeks, if not months, to come to any sort of resolution, and he resigned himself to the familiar and frustrating quandary of a waiting game.
What next? he mused, and then stiffened slightly as Draco came to stand next to him.
"This certainly has been an interesting evening, has it not?"
Snape slanted his godson a hard look. "If by interesting, you mean in the Chinese fashion, which is to say cursed, then yes. It has assuredly been an interesting evening."
Smirking, Draco leaned a shoulder against the wall. "Well, we wouldn't want anyone to grow bored in these peaceful times, would we?"
"Don't get too cocky, boy. Your mother is going to make you pay for that juvenile by-play with Granger later."
"Oh, I don't know about that. She's rather distracted at the moment, and you caused a far bigger stink than I. Everyone saw your boorish behaviour. For my part, no one was actually close enough to hear what we were saying."
"Ah," Snape drawled, "At the moment, I am the one doing your mother a rather large favour, and she knows that she can only push me so far as a result."
"If you say so."
"I do."
"Speaking of Granger-"
"Can we not?" he asked, a feeling of dread creeping upon him.
"She has done a capital job of distracting and entertaining the masses tonight, hasn't she?" The playful edge left Draco's voice and was replaced by a more sombre tone. "It's almost as if she was doing it on purpose. Just what is she playing at?"
"I haven't been paying attention to her."
Draco made a sound of disbelief. "Like hell you haven't."
Severus turned to face his godson. "Have you seen any reaction from me during the last three hours to indicate that I have been paying attention to her foolish antics in the slightest?"
"No," Draco answered, not backing down. "But just because you haven't responded to the queue of men flirting and ogling her doesn't mean you haven't noticed."
He had most definitely noticed. Despite the heavy use of occlumency all evening, it had made his blood boil to watch the steady stream of men vying for her favour. Some had been simply curious to see how far they could get with Granger, he knew, and others had seen his reaction earlier and hoped to get under his skin. Only the recollection of her words as they had danced- This is a very poor idea, Headmaster-had kept his feet and fists grounded. He would resist the clarion call of obsession this time if it killed him.
Draco broke into his grim reverie. "I do find her behaviour tonight terribly curious. She clearly wanted to dance with you, and yet was reluctant to do so; in the same vein, she was eager to capture the attention of the crowd, but made sure to say something outrageous enough to separate herself from you and my parents."
"In my experience," he grumbled, unclenching his jaw with effort, "women can be quite capricious, and I hardly think it would be worth the effort to try and work out Granger's raison d'etre."
Keen grey eyes met his, and Snape could see a hint of pity in Draco's gaze. "I disagree. I know why we are here. The question remains, what is Grange's reason?"
She was hiding.
Thank fuck the MacMillan's had a well-appointed ladies retiring room. Using the specious excuse of needing to powder her nose, Hermione had fled the ballroom and promptly locked herself into the farthest stall from the door. Her cheeks hurt from the constant smiling and simpering, and after spending a night with Wizarding Britain's supposed finest, Hermione was in favour of a mass humanoid extinction, post haste. If she had to deal with one more man trying to grope her arse or feel up her tits, she would bring the entire sodding estate to ruin via a quick application of fiendfyre.
Pulling a galleon from her clutch, she tapped her wand to it, hoping like hell she'd finally see confirmation that Terence had finished the job and she could finally leave. It warmed with a message, and she tensed.
Can't get past the final wards on the safe. Do you want to give it a try, or do we call it an evening?
Hermione nearly threw the coin to the floor with rage. "Do I have to do absolutely fucking everything?" she muttered, frustration making her wand shake. Breathe, she told herself sternly. Anger will get you nowhere, and my decisions need to be made with logic, not emotions. It's not as if Terence is deliberately trying to fail just to torture me.
They had to break into the MacMillan's safe, and this was the last public event the family would hold before retiring to their Scottish holdings for the holidays. If they wanted to get at the jewels, it was now or never.
I will try, she responded. But you'd better play watchdog in the hallway. I did my job a little too well tonight to trust that someone won't try and follow me in hopes of a quick shag.
Terence's reply came immediately. I told you that the dress was a step too far.
And then two seconds later: Are you alright?
Breathe, she ordered herself again. Just breathe. After all, it wasn't Terence's fault he'd been right, and he had tried to convince her to change it. Recalling Snape's expression upon catching sight of her, she mentally flinched. Even after making the choice to avoid the Headmaster, there still had been a part of Hermione that had wanted him to notice her… but not like that. When their eyes had connected, she had belatedly realised that she had been lying to herself; there had been far more than just possibilities between them.
Ignoring his comment, she sent back a question of her own. What protections did you find so far?
There was a decent interval before he answered, listing a half-dozen common wardings. But, he continued, there is some sort of apotropaic warding crossed into an ansuz blood tie that is giving me fits.
Fine, Hermione wrote back, leave them open and I will see what I can do.
Got it. Leaving the room now.
Standing up, she stretched, wincing as her back popped. Sitting hunched over on the loo for so long clearly hadn't done it any good. With a flick, Hermione applied the most robust do-not-notice-me charm that she dared and slipped from the stall. Thankfully, there was no one else visible, and she was able to make her way to the back hall unobserved.
Terence was nowhere to be seen.
Bollocks! This is the last thing I need tonight. Where is he? Has something happened?
It was a risk to charge ahead without knowing that the coast was clear, but it was even riskier to stay in the open where she might be spotted by the leering mob. Sliding behind a large potted fern, Hermione felt for the charmed galleon. Cool metal met her fingers, and she bit back a sigh. No message, then.
Peering down the dark corridor to the brightly lit ballroom, Hermione decided that enough was enough. If I get caught, I'll just have to brazen it out. After my behaviour tonight, that shouldn't be too hard. I imagine that people will be shocked if I don't get caught with someone in a compromising position.
On silent feet, she entered the deserted library, the air redolent of old books, leather, and cigars. Casting a series of warning charms, she made her way to the doorway at the end of the room. The door was unlocked, and as she eased it open, Hermione drew her wand just in case.
The cramped office was vacant.
Sighing in relief, she sent out a quick burst of detection spells; oddly, two of the walls lit up with magical residue. What have we here? she wondered as she touched the dark wooden panelling. It wasn't the expected safe, but a shallow priest hole. Blinking in surprise, she studied the dusty space.
I suppose as we are in the wizarding world, it's not a priest hole, she thought idly, but just a garden variety secret chamber. Stepping in, Hermione saw that there was a narrow horizontal slit charmed into the wall so that the occupant could spy out to the desk and cabinet.
Interesting...
Crossing the room, she ran her fingers over the other wall that had lit up until she found the seam in the panelling. Pulling it back, she revealed the family safe. Traces of Terence's spells remained, and Hermione carefully wiped all traces of his magic before attempting to unravel the protections.
They were an unusual and creative combination of spells, and Hermione could understand why Terence had struggled with them. Still, she had an advantage—apotropaic wardings typically responded better to female casters, rather than male.
Just as the spell began to loosen, her first warning charm sounded. Someone was approaching the library. Hermione froze, holding her breath. If someone discovered what she was up to at this moment...
To her horror, the second one alerted after only the briefest pause. With a hurried flick of her wand, she put up a reasonable facsimile of the protections and closed the panelling as the third and final charm went off; someone was feet away from the office door. Rushing to the front of the desk, she plopped herself down, grateful the surface was at least clear of pointy objects.
The door clicked. Opened. Her heart felt like it was making a credible attempt to pound out of her chest.
Severus Snape strolled in, menace rolling from him in waves.
"I do believe, Ms Granger, that you rather owe me an explanation."
A/N~ If you can't tell already, dear readers, this will not be a smooth ride...
A million heartfelt thanks to everyone who fave'd, followed, and commented on the first chapter. It's humbling and thrilling all at once to see your reactions! High-fives to marina himbeere, Kailin, Don'tForgetILoveYou, Ardentlyadmired, luv4edwardcullen, Dimac99, Daphne, whatsherwhat, meg527, Bettymoon, houstonclay, MulberryPicking as well as several guests for leaving such lovely comments.
If you caught the Cernnuous/Hecate reference and were like, 'huh? those two don't really go together! Stop mixing up your mythologies!', know that it's a fandom shout out to one of my very favourite SSHG stories, 'The Witchhiker's Guide To Beltane', by the magnificent TeddyRadiator. If you haven't read it, do so immediately. It's the kind of story that I aspire to write someday!
And speaking of fandom joy, there is a really cool charity relief drive for Australia going on right now called Fandom for Oz (fandomforoz *dot* livejournal *dot* com). Similar to movements like Fandom Trumps Hate, this will be raising money for various charities that are supporting the Australian bushfire recovery efforts. Basically, fandoms artists of all stripes will offer their services to the highest bidders, with all of the monies raised going directly to one of ten charities. I will for sure bidding on some commissions, and will likely be offering my services as writer and beta as well. So if you've ever wanted to get a personalised bit of fandom created for you, or otherwise want to support the Australian bushfire recovery efforts, check it out, and please spread the word!
Happy reading!