The Pitfalls of Being an Insufferable Know-it-all

Sixteen

Following his departure I lay there for some time afterwards. There was much to think about and, in the cold light of day, of course, there was the hasty return of my brain. Still, right there and then I felt no regret — far from it, in fact. I'd got what I wanted, no more no less. We both had, I felt. What was there to regret about that?

It was as I was showering that I was brought back to reality with a dull thud. I had a Weasley Sunday lunch to attend that afternoon that I'd entirely forgotten. My elevated mood, such as it was, found it was not unduly dulled though. In fact, part of me rather perversely was looking forward to it. I found myself laughing inwardly, imagining if they could divine what I'd been up to.

Funnily, that didn't bear too much thinking about, actually.

I looked in the mirror as I combed my hair, and with interest I noted two separate marks – bruises – on my neck. I touched them lightly, examining my reflection as I did so. I could have spelled those marks to disappear, but, for whatever reason, I decided not to. I put on a polo-necked jumper instead; I didn't want anyone else to see them, of course. It would be the talk of the Burrow for weeks, otherwise.

It was an indication, perhaps, of the stagnancy I had experienced during that period of my life, that I should feel so… markedly buoyant. That I should feel so intrigued by something relatively mundane. Anyone might think I was some childish teenager in the throes of her first attraction. Truthfully, though, it really wasn't anything mundane. With anyone else it might have been, but never with him.

I doubted anything about that man could be deemed mundane.

I arrived at the Burrow and by this time my buoyant mood had morphed into something a little more… smug, I think. Definitely smug, as I thought about all the usual prods and pokes I would receive about my social life, and the triumph I would feel at thinking Ha! If only you knew!

Except, what actually happened is as soon as I set eyes on Arthur and Molly, I was alarmed to find myself blush awkwardly at only the first greeting.

'Hermione! ' Molly hugged me as she always did. 'You're looking flushed; are you well, dear?'

'Oh, I'm fine, Molly, thank you.'

'Tell me about your week.' She ordered as she bustled with pots and pans.

Where to start? I thought dryly.

I found it even more alarming when Harry and Ron appeared; indeed I could hardly look them in the eye at first. What would they say if they knew? I clutched uncomfortably at the neck of my jumper, with the ludicrous imagining that my night's antics might somehow be written all over my face. My cheeks burned and I hurriedly sought to empty my mind, lest they think I really was coming down with an illness.

Luckily, Harry and Ron remain as unobservant as ever. I avoided Ginny as much as I could, though, as I could not count on her being that imperceptive.

The children soon came bounding over to me, armed with all manner of toys and trinkets, for which I was grateful for something to put my mind to. I glanced somewhat ironically at little Albus Severus, thinking I could not entirely be free of reminders. Still, as the afternoon wore on, I found my equilibrium returning. So much so, that I'm sure I didn't even blink when Arthur told me there was a nice young man recently started in his department and would I like an introduction?

'Thank you, no, Arthur.'

'Leave Hermione, alone, Dad,' Ron interrupted, as per usual.

When I returned home in the early evening, and once more I was alone, that was when my thoughts started become less easy — when the initial euphoria had muted and the doubts and misgivings started to prickle uncomfortably.

Had it really been a good idea to do what I had?

I considered then that I still knew nothing of his personal circumstances. Perhaps I really had allowed myself a huge error of judgement? For all I knew he could be married with children.

That was maybe going a little too far, but the point remained the same. I had to be mindful as to who I was dealing with, and mindful also of my own situation. I should not get carried away… I should remain pragmatic and remember to be rather more circumspect in my dealings with him.

What dealings there remained, I wasn't entirely sure. I trusted he would be in touch, but who knew when he would deign to do just that? There were things that needed saying and questions I wanted to ask. And that wasn't even referring to personal dealings between us.

I wasn't sure how they would unfold, or even how I wanted them to at this juncture. Still, I was never the type to let the grass grow from under me. Why should I not take matters into my own hands? I didn't have to wait for concession from him—I was now as much a part of this as he was. We were dealing with professional poachers and we had discovered one of their hideouts. We should be looking to capitalise on that.

Admittedly, a glass of wine fortified me into sending him a note, requesting an audience. A rather short reply was not very long in coming, which somewhat surprised me. My note had gone to the Society, so obviously he was there working, presumably, on a Sunday evening. It was a small nugget, but a nugget nonetheless.

'I will be at the Society tomorrow from noon until 5 o'clock. You may call at your leisure.'

He hadn't even signed it; not that he needed to. His scrawl had haunted me many a night once upon a time. I sighed ruefully; clearly crossing certain boundaries with this man did not dispose him to being any less awkward — he knew I had work to attend.

I could have refused, but it would have been cutting my nose off. There was an idea I wished to discuss with him, and already too much time might have passed that it might now be too late to implement.

I decided I would have to request the afternoon off from the Ministry. I was no stranger to over-time, and so an afternoon off would not be an issue. However, the shock on my manager's face when I requested it did not go unnoticed.

'You want the afternoon off, Granger — whatever for?' His moustache quivered with surprise.

At my subsequent look, he backtracked. 'Of course, it's none of my business as to your reason, I just… It's very unlike you.'

I swallowed a huff. 'May I have the time?'

'Oh yes; certainly.'

So there it was. Not wanting to appear too keen, I only departed for Edinburgh at two o'clock, and I was still in my work robes. I had determinedly decided not to pay any attention to the incident of my appearance — my reason for visiting was to be purely business-related.

Albert was at the front desk when I entered the foyer of the Soicety. 'Good afternoon, Albert,' I greeted. 'I'm here to see Mr Snape.'

'Very well, my dear,' he replied, coming out from behind the desk. 'I'll take you to him.'

I was about to remind the old man that I knew where the office was, but I soon realised he was heading in a completely different direction. Instead of the opulent central stairs, he took a smaller set that led down into the bowels of the building. At the bottom of the stairs, he paused.

'Severus is through the door on the right.'

Albert trundled back up the stairs and I looked down the corridor which was lit only by flickering lamps. I moved to knock on the door, feeling my stomach knot uncomfortably, despite my earlier resolve for professionalism.

The door was wrenched open and suddenly there he was — filling the doorway. 'Ah,' was all he said, as he stood by to let me in.

Clearly, I wasn't entirely prepared for the sight of him, for I could not quite meet his eye straightaway, and when I did, I'd failed to anticipate the sudden blast of heat in my veins. I began to think I might have been rather hasty in contacting him so soon after our… interlude.

He was visibly unruffled, of course, on the outside, but even at that early time in our acquaintance I knew outward appearance was no true indication of what was really going on underneath. I just wasn't able to interpret it very well in those days.

He was obviously brewing. There was a faint smell in the air, not unpleasant, and the sound of gently simmering liquid. The room was windowless, but far more brightly lit than the corridor had been. There were shelves upon shelves of glass bottles, flasks and phials and all manner of potions-related equipment you could imagine. There were several tables, each with cauldrons atop. There appeared to be only one cauldron he had on the go, however, as it was the only one where blue flames flickered quietly underneath it.

He walked over to it and gave the contents a few stirs.

'How is the, ah, bump on your head?' I asked politely, when I could mobilise my thoughts.

'Fine,' he responded.

Unfazed by his reticence, I continued my perusal of the room. There were a lot of books in evidence, of course, and many cupboards which I took to contain all manner of ingredients and supplied.

'Not having flashbacks, are we?' he asked suddenly.

I was lucky he was peering into the cauldron so that he entirely missed my violent flinch. At least I hoped he'd missed it.

'I'm sorry? I, ah, don't—'

He looked at me then. 'Double Potions on a Friday afternoon…'

I swallowed with relief; those flashbacks. I gave a weak laugh. Annoyingly, the sudden glint in his eye told me he had been fully aware of his misleading question. He returned to his cauldron and I shook my head with resignation.

I decided to perch myself on a stool, a more than respectable distance away, and allowed myself a moment of composure before I spoke.

'There's something I, ah, wanted to discuss with you,' I ventured.

I think he gave a small sigh. 'What is there to talk about?' He replied coolly. 'We're both adults, after all.'

I was immediately surprised. It was interesting that he'd now mistaken my meaning. Clearly, the antics of our last meeting were not so very far from his mind, either. I considered letting him get away unscathed, but the part of me which smarted slightly at his cool indifference could not be silenced. Perhaps if he hadn't had the first satirical shot I would have let it slip.

'Actually, I was referring to matters in the Forbidden Forest…'

It was novel, certainly, to see the way his stirring faltered and to know that he must be thinking he could kick himself.

'Still, now that you've brought it up…' I continued blithely, 'I agree; there is nothing particularly to talk about. As you rightly identify, we are both adults.'

I was prepared to let that be it on the matter, for the time being. I had thought he would not want to dissect the incident between us, and I wondered if that might not serve me well too. He was correct; we were adults after all. It was a very enjoyable interlude, undoubtedly, but muddying waters between us was not the sensible thing to do when there was a task at hand to be dealt with.

'Indeed,' he said, releasing the stirring rod and turning to me. 'We are in agreement.'

He looked faintly relieved, and I wondered if he'd been entertaining thoughts of me levelling accusations as to my virtue, or perhaps worse, confessing my undying devotion.

'The reason I'm here is I want to go back to that hut in the Forbidden Forest,' I announced. 'The sooner, the better, and I wondered if you would accompany me?'

'Why do you wish to return?'

'Because it occurred to me that hut is evidence and it should be documented. By rights it should be reported to the Aurors—'

I paused at his grimace.

'At the very least it should be photographed. It is evidence that may be needed further down the line. We can't be sure if our assailants know we discovered the hut or not. If so they may seek to better cover their tracks.'

He nodded after a moment, before consulting his pocket-watch. 'Very well; but you will have to wait thirty minutes because this brew cannot be left.'

So saying, he turned back to it and picked up the stirring rod. I crossed my arms and watched.

'What are you brewing?'

'I can't tell you.'

He wasn't looking, so I rolled my eyes freely. What a surprise he was even secretive about his potions.

'Do you have any idea as to who our attackers were in the forest? And do you think they knew who we were?'

His shoulders slumped a little and I bit back a smirk. 'There will be time enough for questions, later, Granger.'

If he only knew just how many questions, I had, I thought ruefully, and many of them had nothing to do with poachers or Augureys. They were about him. What exactly did the Presiding Officer of the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers do, anyway? Where did he call home? Why couldn't he call me Hermione?

Why was he so…removed? Of course, I now had empirical evidence that he was not so very repressed as I might once have thought.

I would not forget that first-hand experience in a hurry.

I wondered why he had allowed physical intimacy between us. At first, it had seemed to me to be a dangerous move on his part — foolish, even. After all, a man as outwardly detached and fiercely guarded as he would surely not want to risk the open vulnerability that comes with such endeavour. Especially as I felt there had been nothing cold or even clinical about that night. He had not been cold or clinical.

But studying him then, I began to see I was conflating the issue.

No doubt, in his mind he could rationalise physical intimacy as purely that, no more and no less. He might trust me enough to go that far, but ironically, as personal as that encounter was, he likely would not trust me with anything more. He must feel he has the strength of mind to maintain that line — the line between physical and emotional intimacy; the barrier that might never, ever be moved. I still wasn't entirely sure what I hoped to achieve even if I could move it.

Did it matter, either way?

Possibly, it did, I thought uncomfortably, for my own strength of mind I knew was not so resolute. I did not have his ability to be detached — it was not in my nature.

'I will be ready shortly,' he advised, rousing me from my reverie. 'Meet me around the back; I will tell Albert I'm off to London.'

I nodded and took myself off, waiting in a small rear courtyard from which we could Disapparate without the prying eyes of Muggles.

Shortly thereafter, he appeared around the back of the building with his cloak on. 'Ready?'

I nodded and moments later we were back standing on the rocky outcrop overlooking the Forbidden Forest. There was something rather different this time, however — something very incongruous.

A plume of dark smoke was rising up out of the trees.

I felt my whole body sag in disbelief.

'Fuck,' I said, looking heavenwards.

'Indeed,' was the grim response next to me.

We were clearly too late. It was obvious what was on fire — what was being destroyed. We started rushing down the path to see if there was anything that might be worth salvaging. We approached cautiously, but there was no one around, and it was evident why — the hut was already reduced to smouldering and charred embers. We used our wands to douse the flames, so they might not spread to the trees, and from there we just stared at the ruins in mute frustration. Everything within the hut was destroyed— there could be no doubt.

I looked at my companion helplessly, but he just gave a defeated little shrug.

'That's it, then,' I grumbled, giving the ground an aggravated scuff with my shoe.

Suddenly, there was the echo of a shout through the trees.

'Is there anyone out there!' sounded the cry.

I gasped — I knew that voice. 'It's —'

Before I could comprehend it, a hand came up over my mouth and I was manhandled behind the trunk of a particularly large tree.

'We are not getting into a rendezvous with Hagrid!' Snape hissed.

I goggled at him, reaching up and grabbing his arm away from my face. 'Excuse me!' I spluttered quietly. 'How dare you take such liberties with my person!'

His eyebrow quirked up sardonically. 'Sorry, my mistake — did you merely misplace your indignation the other night when I was taking far greater liberties with your person?'

My bottom jaw fell open and I goggled at him again. 'I can't believe you just said that.' I shook my head, willing myself not to give in to any laughter that threatened to peal.

'I wasn't going to call out to him, anyway,' I muttered obstinately, in an effort not to remember those liberties he referred to.

I don't think he heard me. His eyes were directed at my neck, and with a sinking sense of embarrassment I knew what he'd spotted. He pushed a length of my hair over my shoulder and there was a slight appraising rise of his eyebrows as he took in the marks he had left there. Haughtily, I pulled at my scarf to wrap it around my neck more tightly, so they were no longer visible.

'Proud of yourself, are you?' I questioned in a voice I'm not sure I recognised as my own.

He surveyed me at length before replying. 'You have hidden depths, Granger; they may get you into trouble one day.'

Perhaps it was a warning from him; in any case, I had no interest in heeding it. Indeed, I entirely ignored it.

'You know my name,' I stated. 'Say it.'

I'm not even sure where that came from. He would feel effrontery at being challenged, but I knew he could not fail to meet it. He did not disappoint.

'Hermione,' he said, and I was impressed, very much despite myself, because he said it with not a flicker. He knew my game; knew I was looking for him to reveal a crack or a glimmer, but his strength of composure was as impenetrable as ever.

All I knew was that he was an enigma, and he might very well talk about the hidden depths of others, but there could be hidden depths no deeper than the ones he himself was at pains to hide. Well, I would allow him his foibles.

I smiled at him, then. I smiled to show him that I was pleased, and that using my name was nothing other than a trifle. To my mind, that smile was also to show him that in matters of personal import, at least, I did not look to triumph over him in any way.

'Excellent,' I said, very much having enjoyed the pleasant ring of my own name. My expression then turned expectant as I hoped for a reciprocal concession.

What I actually received was a long-suffering scowl and a muttered:

'Call me what you like; what do I care?'

It was good enough for me, but before I could test out his name, Hagrid's voice sounded for a second time and we both glanced in its direction.

Our eyes met again and once more I failed to read the portent.

'Quick, Granger; let's go.'

With a flurry of robes, he was gone.

'It's Hermione,' I resentfully ground out to no one.

AN: Thanks for the lovely comments; they always spur me on : )