The Pitfalls of Being an Insufferable Know-it-all

Eighteen

'Do you have somewhere else you could stay tonight?'

I was marginally surprised to find him still sitting at the kitchen table, but I was even more surprised by his words.

I paused in the combing of my hair. 'Why should I stay elsewhere; I thought we'd decided it was merely a message?'

Following the initial frustration of discovering those brooms at my door, I'd resolved to think no more on it. Not until I had washed the dirt and grime I felt still clung to me from my encounter with St. Mungo's oldest and finest cobwebs, at least. And not least until I'd imbibed a headache powder, too.

I'd left him to it — left him to a cup of coffee and his thoughts — while I went to shower. I'd fully expected that he might be gone by the time I returned, but had felt too wrung out to try and ensure otherwise. Yet, there he was, obviously still contemplating.

'True,' he replied, 'but we don't know precisely who we are dealing with.'

I sighed at length. 'Well, perhaps you'd like me to turn up on Harry's doorstep and explain everything to him?'

I need not recount the expression he pulled at that. I picked up my comb again, thinking there was no way on earth I was being pushed out of my own home.

'Can you not stay with your parents?'

I froze. There it was finally, the reference I always sought to avoid. My throat closed with dread, and I felt I should have anticipated this angle,or at least prepared myself for it.

'No,' I replied carefully, 'my parents live in Australia.'

When no further comment was forthcoming I ploughed on hurriedly. 'I'll be fine, anyway. I'll not play the scared little girl for their benefit.'

Hair attended to, I went to curl up on the settee in front of the fire, feeling unutterably irritated. After a moment, I was aware of him looming nearby and I caught the mild indecision on his face.

'You're not obliged to stay,' I said with a laugh.

He sat at the other end of the settee, but did not look at me. 'It doesn't seem right not to.'

'Think I need a man to look after me, do you?'

His eyebrows shot up and I immediately felt churlish. 'Sorry, I'm just being facetious. Of course, you may stay if you wish to.'

Even in my irritated state my mind easily recalled back to his previous overnight stay. I studied his profile and did feel grateful for his consideration, even if it was, perhaps, unwarranted. Still, it was another nugget that might do well to be analysed at a later time. I turned my gaze back to the flames and let my head rest against the cushions, feeling that the ensuing silence wasn't too awkward. It's not often I'm at a loss, but right then was one of the few times when I couldn't think of anything to say to him.

I was fed up. Uncomfortably, I was beginning to think that it was a fool's errand we'd set ourselves, and I thought if we failed to achieve anything, I would be stuck hunting chizpurfles for longer than I might have expected. In turn, these thoughts made me feel selfish. The reason I'd set out on this task had not been for personal gain… At least, that's what I'd told myself. It seemed now that in many ways I was only concerned how this would unfold and impact on myself.

As my thoughts fluttered hither and thither, I came to realise that he was watching me. When I broke my stare into the fire, he cleared his throat and asked the question for which I thought I'd had a reprieve.

'Why do your parents live in Australia, Hermione?'

My mouth dried out entirely at that quietly delivered query. I did not fail to note his crafty use of my name, either. I pulled myself up, crossing my legs under me and folding my arms.

'Why do you want to know about them for?' I enquired in what I hoped was a light tone.

He didn't reply; he just continued to watch me until I felt I had to look away. I thought about fobbing him off with some banal tale of how they'd wanted to live the high life — to chase the dream of a better life under the Australian sun. I doubt he would have believed it, but that would have been his prerogative. He could not have failed to notice how I never mentioned them, yet he could hardly criticise my reticence when his own was practically tangible about him.

To fob him off, though, was to deny my part in the story, and that was not something I could ever be comfortable with. I considered he probably knew nothing of my parents, other than that they existed, and so I would have to start with the biggest mistake of my life. I felt my pulse quicken as I sought to find the words. There was only one way to do it — quickly and succinctly.

'In the summer before we set off to look for the Horcruxes, to protect my parents from Voldemort, I Obliviated them and sent them to live in Australia.'

I didn't dare look to see his reaction; I spoke more to the fire than to him.

'Of course, that is how I justified it to myself, except there were rather more selfish reasons, too. They would not have let me go gallivanting around the country; they would not have let me go back to Hogwarts had they known truth.'

I forced myself to look at him then.

'I never told them half of what went on. I never told them about the danger we were in — the danger Harry was in. So, when the time came, I knew they would not understand… As much as I wanted to protect them, I also, selfishly, wanted to be able to do what I wanted, with no worry or thought as to their safety.'

I paused for a breath; his expression was unreadable.

'When it was all over, and I went to them to remove the Oblivate, well, it…'I broke off shaking my head. 'It was obvious I had made a mistake. They were angry and confused, and very, very hurt. They saw it as though I'd taken advantage of them, which, I couldn't argue with.'

I bit my lip, feeling the tell-tale burn behind the eyes. I got to my feet, feeling that I might do better to prevaricate. I stoked the logs on the fire before continuing.

'They forgave me, in the end, of course, but we none of us can forget.' I felt myself smile sardonically. 'They wanted to stay in Australia — I think they saw it as their only opportunity to take back control of the situation.'

I hadn't heard him move, but he was there standing before me. He took the poker from my hand that I was uselessly holding.

'We're not estranged,' I continued. 'They visit, and I've been to see them in Australia. It's just not quite the same anymore.'

My voice caught over the last words and one errant tear managed to spring free. Before I could react, his hand appeared and his thumb brushed it away. I nearly shied away at the subsequent tingle, but, in any case, he dropped his hand as quickly as it had come.

'It's fine; I miss them very much of course…' I swiped a hand at my face and tried a watery smile.

He did not say anything, which in turn made me uneasy. 'Well?' I prompted. 'Was it not a terrible abuse of my power?'

Still he didn't answer straightaway. 'I... don't know what to say,' he eventually said softly, 'except maybe to say that I am sorry.'

Too preoccupied with my own shame, I'd failed to notice the clouds descend across his countenance.

'What have you to be sorry for?'

'If it were not for people like me, you would not have had to do what you did.'

He turned away slightly, rubbing both hands over his face, before dragging them roughly through his hair with a frustrated sigh.

'If it were not for people like me... You know I could finish that sentence in any number of ways, Hermione. There are many who are paying the price for choices that I have made.'

I was speechless; for many reasons, my brain and voice seemed both to have deserted me. Everything suddenly seemed very blurry. I opened and closed my mouth a few times, but I could not find any words. I don't know if I'd expected recrimination from him, but if I had expected anything, I had not expected this regret.

He would not look at me now. His hair fell forward obscuring the side of his face, and I longed to move it and tell him any number of things that I felt, except, I didn't know where to start.

'Nothing happens in a vacuum,' I found myself saying finally. 'There's nothing to say that we wouldn't have ended up in the same place had you made different choices. It is not on your decisions alone, Severus, that Voldemort did the things that he did. How could it be?'

I shrugged my shoulders helplessly.

'I made the decision to Obliviate my parents and I made that decision alone. Regardless of how I came to be in that situation, I still had a choice, ultimately.' I shook my head vehemently. 'I don't hold you responsible for that.'

We neither of us said anything for a time. I considered how much the War and its effects still lingered. I was by turns touched at his regret for the state of my relations with my parents, but saddened as well, that he felt he bore responsibility for it. I had before me, also, the moment I had longed for; the moment where he might allow a glimpse of who he really was. Yet, faced with it, along with everything else that had gone on that day, I didn't know what to do with it — how to capitalise on it.

It seemed there was much to be said, actually, for the security of sarcastic jibes and comments.

There was one thing I did want to know. 'Do you think I made the right decision?' I asked quietly.

He finally returned his gaze to me, and I was pleased to see the re-emergence of his usual sardonicism. 'Come now, Granger, we've already established my judgement is suspect…'

I gave him a wan smile. 'Has it not improved with time?'

He shrugged his shoulders, frowning, and once more his eyes darted away. It seemed to me such a downhearted gesture that, instinctively, I closed the space between us and took one of his hands in both of mine. If he had not subsequently closed his fingers around mine, I might not have gone on to say what I did. Certainly, I would not have said it had my breath failed to catch in my throat when his expression became searching.

That he might set store by my opinion of him sent a powerful thrum through my veins. I never could have anticipated such a thing following our first meeting those few weeks ago —it would never have computed. Now, it pleased me unequivocally, and disposed me to boldness.

'If you are in want of guidance, I can advise you of one decision that might now serve you well.'

'What's that?' he whispered, a tad warily.

'That you kiss me.'

He looked mildly incredulous. I think I was vaguely thrown by my impetuousness, too, but it seemed like the right thing to do. So much for not muddying the water between us, but I felt it was pointless, if not impossible, to ignore the connection between us.

After a pause, he began shaking his head.

'I can't do that.' He started trying to extricate his hand, but I held on defiantly.

'Why not?

His eyes closed impatiently. 'I am not worthy… You deserve better for —'

'Worthy?' I interrupted loudly. 'You felt worthy enough the other night…'

'No — that was different. I told you, I was concussed.'

My jaw fell open, and not entirely in mock outrage, either. He closed his mouth to prevent any further words and the gleam was back in his eyes with a vengeance.

'Right, where is my wand?' I demanded feeling laugher bubbling.

He leaned down swiftly and pressed a kiss at my lips. I reflexively loosened my grip on his hand and both of his came up to my neck. He held my face there for several moments. That brief contact seemed to undo much of my irritation and the tension within me eased.

'The point is these hands, Hermione,' he murmured, when he pulled back and let the hands in question rest on my shoulders. 'Do you not think you deserve to be touched by better hands than mine?'

Cleaner hands, I thought, is what he meant.

For once, his expression appeared entirely earnest. I considered my options. I didn't want to make too light of the situation, as it was obviously a concern for him, but by the same token, it really wasn't a concern for me.

I cleared my throat. 'Well, why don't you touch me and then I'll let you know?'

There was a brief flash of disbelief, it seemed to me, that stole across his features. I don't blame him, I could hardly comprehend my own brazenness, but I held my nerve as I looked at him — to show that I was entirely serious.

I was beginning to think his self-control might prove too much of a match for me when, finally, he reached out and tugged the belt of my dressing gown loose. Then he pushed it from my shoulders so that it fell to the floor. His arm curled about my waist and pulled me to him, so that we were touching.

I felt as though, somehow, I had known we would end up back here — together. Despite any words he had spoken on the matter, I think in the back of my mind there had been an inevitability about it. I wondered if it had been in his mind, too.

'Mark me,' he spoke in a warning whisper. 'This will not end well.'

I was pressed up against him with the palm of his hand burning through to my skin — I easily ignored those words and kissed him instead.

It was only later, after, did his words return to me. This time was different, of course; I was not so paralysed with bewilderment that I could not bring myself to speak.

I twisted onto my side and propped my head up on my elbow. 'Severus?'

He put a hand over his face. 'Merlin, Granger; give it five minutes, will you? I'm not a performing monkey.'

I spluttered loudly at him. Then I quickly rolled over to lean over the edge of the bed.

'What on earth are you doing?'

'Finding my wand… Someone needs putting in their place.'

I can't quite bring myself to say what he did next. I should have foreseen it, but I truly did not expect his foot to reach out and nudge me so that I nearly fell onto the floor. I squealed and had to put my hand out to brace myself.

'You git!' I admonished, moving back to safety.

'Sorry,' he admitted, not sounding sorry in the slightest.

I resorted to shaking my head with a few exasperated chuckles. 'We're supposed to be on the alert for anyone lurking about, you know.'

'Well, I'm sure this tableau would be enough to send them running.'

I allowed myself a smile as I stuffed my wand under my pillow, before settling back down onto it. There was a candle lit in the room, which allowed enough light in which for me to study him. Something which I had not had opportunity for last time, either.

He sat up and reached over for something out of his robe. I felt my eyes roll as a liquorice wand appeared. Feeling it was time for me to fully engage in our tit for tat routine, I, as quick as lightning, snatched the wand from his hand and threw it across the room. It hit the door with a satisfying thump.

His eyes slowly moved from his empty hand to glare at me. 'I can just as easily Summon it back to me.'

'I don't like liquorice,' I said simply, smiling up at him.

'Forgive me, I'm supposed to care about this why…?'

'I'm just saying… It might put me off, later…'

A thoughtful expression formed on his face, then he lifted his hand and a fistful of liquorice wands suddenly whizzed into his grasp. 'It's lucky for me I brought all these, then.'

I closed my eyes and pressed my face into the pillow, not wanting to give him the pleasure of my amusement. I'm sure the shaking of my shoulders gave enough away, however. 'I give up,' I announced ruefully, when I could speak. I sat up, biting my lip, and I shuffled purposefully away from him. 'I can't compete with this.' I allowed myself a smile when I faced away from him, not too disappointed that I clearly had a long way to go to match his humour.

Of course, there were still victories to be had. There was no sound of any sweets being unwrapped, after all, and after a moment or two he shifted across to touch my shoulder.

'I apologise,' he murmured. 'It was too easy. You are too… easy.'

I spun onto my back to look up at him open-mouthed. At his air of studied nonchalance, I raised my eyebrows.

'Only because you are a bad influence on me!'

I could see immediately it wasn't quite right the right path to have taken, for a shadow stole across his features in place of any humour.

He inclined his head in a gesture of agreement. 'I think there may also be a softening of the brain to contend with, too.'

The accompanying smirk seemed a little half-hearted, in my opinion, and I decided to choose my next words more carefully.

'Can't I just be attracted to you?'

Eventually he nodded, his hand coming to stroke small indiscriminate patterns on my stomach. I felt my pulse quicken as other parts of my body tensed in the hope they might also soon be touched.

He remained serious, however, and instinctively, I felt myself braced for his next move.

'You know this is all there can ever be between us, don't you, Hermione?'

I was not unduly surprised, nor disappointed. Indeed, I don't think I even blinked as he watched for my reaction.

Perhaps it wasn't the right context in which to have had this particular conversation. In hindsight it seems so. Not while his light ministrations continued, and not while he was close enough that I could feel the heat of him radiate over me. This isn't to say I felt manipulated into my answer in any way — it was quite obvious to me that he felt no real confidence in his effect on me. That was something entirely new to him.

But I would hardly say I was at my most objective.

I felt I didn't even need him to elaborate on his reasoning. I had not entertained thoughts of a relationship with him. That much had seemed even to me outlandish at that time. It wasn't even to consider the wider implications of how it might be perceived by others, it was more my own personal circumstances, and his too, whatever they were.

Yes, I had spent much time on my own, but it wasn't to assume, as others did, that I broke my heart over it. It frustrated me at times, but it did not preclude that it also didn't suit me.

He was an incongruity in my existence and I enjoyed the uniqueness of it, without exception. To consider it as anything more would be to ignore the almost unfathomable nature of his character, and indeed, the unseen, but ever-present spectre of his past. Perhaps even to ignore mine as well.

So, when I told him that yes, I expected nothing more, I felt I wanted nothing more. The physical response I had to him, the novelty of his company, would fade to something less difficult to ignore. To be gained were simple moments of companionship and yes, pleasure, without hurting anyone. And then maybe we might be friends, which was only as much as I'd ever allowed myself to want.

Of course, the naiveté of us both seems ludicrous now.

He can say what he likes, but I was not the only insufferable know-it-all in this story. The coming together of two know-it-alls should, probably, have led to unparalleled heights of intelligence and wisdom of thought.

Yet, in our case, we appeared to cancel each other out, until what remained could only be described as something that looked an awful lot like stupidity.

AN: Thanks for reading : )