The Pitfalls of Being an Insufferable Know-it-all

AN: I'm sorry for the delay with this chapter - life got in the way a bit this past month.

Twenty

I awoke after a deep and dreamless sleep and it was late morning, to be precise. I didn't often sleep late, but of course, this was an exception. After arriving back from the forest and by the time other matters had been attended to, sleep had not arrived at a godly hour.

I was surprised to note the other matter in question was still present — still sleeping, in fact. His hair was the only part visible when I turned my head towards him.

We'd known that Cresswell was involved, but I certainly hadn't realised he was taking such a hands-on role. He seemed to be our best option to pursue next. Searching through his house for evidence, though, it was decidedly risky.

I recalled the vehemence of my companion that I would not partake in this undertaking, and here was another source of my frustration.

He thought we were the same. Those words were still extraordinary to me. The frustration though, was that he could make this observation, yet I still knew very little about him. I wanted to know so much more, and whilst a part of me thought there was time yet, another traitorous part reminded me that if I did not prod then the opportunity might very well pass me by.

And then the indignant, haughty, independent part of me started to bridle and sought to remind my brain that I did not need to pursue this man. If he did not want to share things with me, then I should not embarrass myself by trying. I was fine by myself. We'd agreed this was nothing more than a trifle.

But what a diverting, enjoyable trifle, nonetheless.

As lightly as I could, I crept out of bed and wrapped my dressing gown around me. Then, I moved quietly into the kitchen and set about making coffee. When I returned, I intended to set the mug down and then, perhaps, leave him to it. Except, he was already stirring.

'Finally!' I admonished. 'It's two o'clock in the afternoon, you know.'

He sat up with a jolt, a fleeting twinge of bewilderment discernible and I couldn't quite hide my subsequent amusement. He, however, spotted it straightaway. He took the mug off me with ferocious glare.

'All right, it is ten o'clock, actually,' I admitted.

I sat crossed legged on the bed and tried not to make my study of him too obtrusive. But I did study him and I found I enjoyed it immensely.

'Busy today?' I asked in effort to divert my thoughts.

'No.'

I bit my lip to stop myself sighing. 'You haven't told me anything much of what it is you do…'

'I wasn't aware I had to.' He sipped his coffee with supreme unconcern.

'You are not obliged; it is merely customary to share such details.'

'Indeed?' He contemplated. 'It is merely a matter of custom, is it? Why then do you not talk to me about what it is you do?'

I glared at him. 'You know that is because there is nothing for me to tell.'

'Ah, yes,' he answered with a chuckle.

I set my mug down and decided I was getting nowhere. I thought I might prod a bit differently and see how he liked that.

'When are we off to see Cresswell, then?'

He actually lay back against the pillow and closed his eyes in what I took to be despair. 'Not this again,' he muttered crossly.

I smiled to myself. There was silence for a moment as I considered pressing the matter. It wasn't either of us who broke the silence, however. We both flinched violently when the sound of my name being called through the Floo travelled through my slightly ajar bedroom door.

'Hermione?'

It was Harry. We both froze and stared at each other with wide eyes.

'Hermione, are you home?

I watched, paralysed in horror, as a sly smirk spread over my companion's face. He leaned up on his elbow and I knew what he intended, even before his mouth opened.

'P—'

There was no time for my wand. I launched myself forwards, placing my palm over his mouth as I landed against him heavily. I turned my head to look at the door as if expecting Harry to just stroll in. He didn't, of course.

My quarry struggled beneath me for a moment, but then he took hold of my arm with both of his hands and easily prised my hand away.

He was laughing.

'Don't joke about stuff like that,' I hissed firmly.

'Your face was a picture.'

I glared at him. 'There are clothes on the floor out there from last night — yours and mine.'

He shrugged carelessly. 'Potter is your problem.' I think he may have muttered something derogatory under his breath as well, but it was inaudible to me.

I imagined the look on Harry's face if he had walked in and my insides quailed with embarrassment. I lay down with a sigh, looking up at the ceiling as he Summoned his clothes to him. I couldn't bring myself to look until it felt seemly to do so.

'What now?' I asked, mindful of the fact he had yet to clarify his intentions as to Cresswell.

He casually reached over and loosened the belt of my dressing gown, so that it fell open. I immediately sat up with a yelp. 'Excuse me!' I chided, retying it.

'I apologise; my hand slipped.'

'Stop avoiding the question, more like.'

'I have much business to attend to this week, but I shall call upon you one evening.' He gave me a look. 'If you are very nice to me, I might allow a discussion.'

I gave a derisive huff. 'Well don't forget to send word first, will you?'

'Ah yes, the other male friends you might be entertaining…'

'Of which you may no longer be one if you carry on,' I rebounded quickly.

He gave no reply, which spoke volumes enough. I watched contemplatively as he tied up his boots and then get to his feet. His only attempt at tidying up his hair was to run his hand through it once. When he noticed my open appraisal, he stilled.

'What are you thinking about now?'

I sat up. 'Simply that you should know I won't take kindly to any subterfuge on your part.

'Oh you won't, will you?'

I shook my head silently, in what I hoped was a firm, resolute manner.

He held my pointed stare easily and his countenance was clear, which led me to think he would heed my warning. Certainly, when he sat back down onto the edge of the bed and leaned towards me, I felt a ripple of anticipation at what I expected might be a reassuring kiss goodbye.

As we have seen, my naievete, however, knows no bounds sometimes.

There was no kiss on the lips, cheek, or otherwise. Instead, he whispered conspiratorially.

'Mind how you go, Granger; I've seen you take none too kindly to me before. Let us hope I don't enjoy it too much.'

He patted my leg and then disappeared.

To my eternal chagrin, he did not call upon me that following week. Wednesday arrived and dissolved into Thursday and so to Friday, but there was neither sight nor sound of him. Unfortunately, I had fully expected that he might appear. My consternation was a cause for much reflection.

I considered several times marching into the Society to demand to know our next move, but a greater part of me felt that would amuse him greatly. And it occurred to me that I provided him with far too much amusement.

Uncomfortably, I knew that I was starting to spend an inordinate amount of time analysing and second-guessing not just his, but my own thoughts and actions. It served nothing, however, except to tie myself up in knots.

I started to think, as the week went on, that he really might have taken it upon himself to deal with Cresswell alone. Should that be the case, my irritation I knew would be acute. I wound myself up furiously with the imaginings I came up with on that score. This was as much my quest as it was his and I could not countenance him taking it over — trampling me underfoot like the dispensable little girl I was often made out to be.

My thoughts, however, did not always return to him for reasons of our business. Much of my chagrin centred on the uneasy realisation that I longed to see him, and for no other reason than to simply experience his company — to spend time with him. A not unsurprising side-effect of the situation I had allowed to develop between us, but one which I was afraid I might have sub-consciously been trying to cultivate.

I was not unduly concerned. It seemed to me that the time we did spend together was such that I could be forgiven for desiring it. We had a connection; he did not fail to notice it, either. Wasn't it right – normal – to want to nurture it?

In any case, I had to battle for conscientiousness at work. I was unused to my mind being preoccupied with such flights of fancy. It disquieted me how easy it was to lose interest in the things around me and focus inwardly instead.

But I chose not to seek him out. I was firm on that front. I told myself this was because of my impressive will — my own reserve of aloofness. In truth, however, my resolve was made easier because lurking in the back of my mind was the prospect that we would meet at Professor McGonagall's one hundredth birthday party that Saturday night. The only drawback was that this celebration was to be held in the Great Hall at Hogwarts, and that there would be a multitude of others present, of course. Still, it remained to me an opportunity to anticipate and I was determined he would not get away lightly — in any respect.

Somewhat unusually, I spent an inordinate amount of time on my appearance when that Saturday arrived. This isn't to say that I never made any effort for special occasions, but this time my deliberations had a purpose that disposed me to indecisiveness, and I can't abide indecisiveness.

And the point was that I wasn't even sure he would notice. In so many ways, he seemed eerily removed from such minutiae and trivialities.

The other somewhat disquieting note was that, as I surveyed the finished result in the mirror, I realised I had enjoyed it. I had enjoyed the primping and the prickling sense of anticipation, and was exulted by the resulting measure of triumph as I surveyed my reflection. I enjoyed how it made me feel.

As it was, perhaps I should have spent more time preparing for how I would deal with him in the presence of so many of my peers. After arriving with the extended Weasley clan, and after greeting the Headmistress herself, and after the initial pleasantries and chit-chat were gone through, when I had a moment to scan the hall and the other guests, I spotted him. Our eyes met and he nodded, but to my infinite horror, I felt my entire body blush and I hurriedly turned away, cringing violently. I think I had had it in my mind that I would have confidently sought him out and greeted him with some suitably pithy remark, and then basked in the outcome.

I appeared have been reprieved with Harry and the incident of the Floo, for he had made no mention of it, but right then I had an alarming premonition of how mortifying it would be to be if we were to be found out. So, at that precise moment, I felt too unusually self-conscious to even contemplate heading in his direction. Somewhat un-Gryffindor-like, I chose to work my way around all my other acquaintances until I felt I'd drawn enough fortification to face him.

I had only managed to imbibe one and a half glasses of wine by the time my prevarication caught up with me. We were brought together by none other than Neville Longbottom himself. I was pretending not to have noticed them conversing nearby, when Neville called out to me and motioned me over.

With a deep breath, I moved to join them.

'Hello there, um, Professor Snape.'

'Miss Granger, I am honoured, finally. You have spoken to all of your former teachers tonight bar me. Such disregard has cut me deeply.'

Neville gave me a sympathetic look.

'I meant no disrespect, I'm sure,' I replied, careful to keep the sarcasm for his ears only.

Neville cleared his throat. 'Severus and I were just talking about my application to join the Most Extraordinary Society for Potioneers, Hermione.'

I blinked in disbelief.

'I was wondering if you could help me gain access into the Ministry's library, Hermione, to assist with my study?'

'Of course, Neville,' I mumbled dumbly.

'Thank you, I'd be happy to discuss it with you, actually — Oh, ah, excuse me both, I think my Grandmother needs me.'

He left us with a quick smile and I turned raised eyebrows to my erstwhile companion.

He was smirking freely. 'Not envious of Longbottom's success, are we, Granger? Perhaps you yourself have it in mind that you would like to join the Society?' He chuckled darkly now. 'We don't have to tell anyone how you came by your membership, of course.'

I shook my head in resigned amusement. 'I do not have it in mind, actually.'

'Fair enough.' He drank from his glass. 'You are much in demand.'

I gave a little shrug. 'Well, you either have it or you don't.'

He seemed to bite back a smile at that. I decided that any discomfort or reserve I held regarding the occasion I would have to ignore. There was the burning question that had pricked at me all week and I could not fail to ask it now. I took a step towards him and he visibly stiffened in response.

'Tell me you did not visit Cresswell.'

He said nothing to goad me, no doubt.

'Just tell me, please.'

'Is this all you think about, Granger?' His look was one of utter disdain.

Despite myself, at his suddenly personal directness, I suppressed the urge to glance around to see if anyone was looking. There was nothing to see, of course, but I suddenly felt as though anyone might be able to tell of the relations we had had just by looking at us. I felt my cheeks warm immediately.

He spotted this, of course. I could tell it from the way his eyes started to glitter in that strange way he has.

'Not quite all you think about, clearly.'

I drained my glass and set it down, furious with myself for getting flustered. Eventually, he appeared to take pity on me.

'I have many other things to contend with Granger, I cannot devote all my energies into one channel indefinitely. I told you I would contact you and I am a man of my word.'

I scoffed rather loudly at that.

He feigned a look of surprise. 'That is the second time you have wounded me tonight —'

'Wounded,' I interrupted disbelievingly. 'You are a man of your word only when it suits you.'

His eyebrows shot up. 'Oh — you do not think the services you so willingly provide suit me?'

My jaw slackened at that, and now my cheeks really were aflame. I did glance around to ensure no one else could have heard that particular remark. I made to be scandalised at his directness, but I was rather secretly buoyed by it.

'I'll have you know, I have no idea what services you are referring to,' I announced primly.

'Then I shall simply have to remind you.'

'Maybe you should.'

To my dismay, I could see a large group of Weasleys heading in our direction and I knew our conversation would have to be ended. He'd spotted them too and with only a parting look at me, he swept off silently.

I swallowed down the disappointment I felt as he retreated — disappointment that I had not reached a resolve with him. There was no doubt in my mind I intended that I would not be returning home from this night alone. I watched with interest as he approached Neville and engage him in conversation once more.

I kept a surreptitious watch for him for the remainder of the night, waiting for an opportunity to approach him. So it was only by chance that, to my infinite frustration, an hour later I happened to clock the blur of his robes as he slipped out through the door at the back of the hall. I sighed deeply, setting down my goblet with a resigned thump and thinking that disappearing without a word would be exactly the type of thing he would do. I managed to hastily extricate myself from my friends and made to follow in his wake.

Of course, when I entered the dimly lit hallway, there was no immediate way of knowing where he would have gone. Perhaps he was even crossing the grounds to the Apparition point as I stood there dithering. But if he was still in the castle, I wondered, where would he go? There were too many potential answers to that question, so I headed in the direction to the place where I would go.

I walked the well-worn route slowly, almost as though the onslaught of feelings and memories were providing a physical resistance. When I reached the library I felt my heart thump in anticipation at the orange glow visible. I stepped over the threshold and moved towards that orange glow. I was not unduly surprised when I spotted the back of a rather familiar dark head at a table. He had one hand clasped around a tumbler and the other turned the pages of the book in front of him.

I smiled to myself. 'I thought I was tragic…' I announced by way of greeting.

He turned his head, but I couldn't discern any true surprise at my presence.

I approached him, and when I saw what book he had open in front of him, I wished I'd chosen a less sarcastic comment.

It was one of Dumbledore's works. He shut it and pushed it away immediately.

'I have some way to fall yet,' he rebuffed darkly.

I detected an empty note in his voice that disposed me to smile a small smile in acknowledgement.

'Why are you haunting the hallways instead of enjoying the frivolity?' he asked.

'I'm not feeling very frivolous.'

It was more or less true. Or at least, I wanted to enjoy the frivolity with him.

He nodded to himself and drank from his glass.

'Something wrong?' I asked into the silence.

'No.'

He drained the glass now and set it down sharply. His hair fell forward with the movement and obscured the side of his face. Without even thinking about it, I reached out and brushed it back. To my secret pleasure, he neither flinched or reared away. But he did not look at me and so I dared myself to take my other hand to his chin and turn it to me.

'Just because we're not the frivolous sort, it doesn't mean we should not have… fun.'

He contemplated for a moment and I detected the faint return of his humour.

'I know your idea of fun,' he replied in a low voice that warmed me. 'And I'm not sure the Hogwarts library is an appropriate setting for it.'

He took my hand away from his jaw, but I held onto his fingers instead.

I feigned disappointment. 'Of course not the library… But the dungeons are not so very far away.'

He looked up sharply with a faintly horrified expression. 'Are you really that twisted?'

'You did say I have hidden depths.'

He allowed himself a brief chuckle at that, but I could tell he wasn't greatly amused by my turn of conversation. Clearly, he was in somewhat of a mood that I wasn't accustomed to.

'Your friends will be wondering where you are,' he warned, extricating his hand.

I considered him for a time, wondering if I'd imagined the faint note of resentment in his tone.

'They can manage fine without me, besides, I'm all partied out. In fact, I might even head home shortly.' I stepped behind him as if perusing the shelves and continued in a light tone. 'Now, if only I had someone to come and keep me company…'

'Seems to me you could have your pick of any man down there, Granger.'

Coming from anyone else, I might have read something enlightening into that remark. Except, from him, in his usual disinterested tone, it was hard to see it as anything other than a detached observation. I found myself to be disappointed in his lack of engagement. It always seemed to me he could never fail to miss an opportunity to skewer me with his wit. Perhaps the setting really was too much of an obstacle.

I swallowed a sigh. 'I think, maybe, you wish to be left alone.'

I had nearly got to the door when he suddenly shoved his chair back and stood. I turned around and watched as he sent the book he had been reading back into the bookshelf. 'It would suit my purpose to be alone,' he mused, crossing over to me. 'But plans may be altered, of course.'

'What is your purpose?' I pondered without really thinking about it.

He said nothing for a time; instead he appeared to survey me.

'I've neglected to say that you look very beautiful tonight.'

This was a surprise. I felt my stomach tingle tightly in response. 'I'm glad you noticed.'

'I'm not entirely dead inside, Granger.'

'Oh, I know that —I just wondered if you might be above such superficiality.'

'I can appreciate the softer qualities, when it suits me, of course.'

I smiled in recognition of my previous words.

'Are you still in want of company?'

I nodded.

'Then I suggest you cease talking and we leave this dump post-haste.'

'Dump,' I chided harshly as I followed him into the darkened hallway.

He paused halfway along and I watched as a small doorway appeared. 'Follow me,' he whispered softly. 'I know a shortcut to the grounds which will allow us to bypass the Great Hall.'

His wand illuminated a narrow spiral staircase and he turned to me expectantly.

'I'm not sure I should go down there with you,' I murmured suspiciously.

'It's a bit late to be worrying about your virtue, Granger — if you ever had any, that is.'

I scoffed with laughter. 'Careful you don't trip down those steps…'

He took hold of my hand and proceeded to descend. 'If I fall so do you.'

By the time we reached the bottom, and at his pace too, my head was spinning. I wavered on my feet and placed my free hand on the wall to steady myself.

'Wine and windy stairs do not mix,' I breathed unsteadily.

'Merlin, Granger, how much have you had?' he muttered as he unlocked and opened the door.

The cool night air hit my cheeks pleasantly. He tugged on my hand and we walked quickly across the darkened lawns until we reached the gates. There was no one about, and I felt a brief pang of guilt that I hadn't said my goodbyes to anyone. That guilt evaporated entirely when he Apparated us directly into my bedroom. Although I did not notice straightaway, standing as I was with my eyes closed and clutching onto him until I felt the dizziness dissipate.

When his lips suddenly pressed at mine, that did nothing for my unsteadiness, either.

This was what I'd been anticipating all week. Forget Cresswell; I was prepared now to admit that my ire in that regard might only be a front to engineer this very situation. This was what I'd been truly waiting for. Unfortunately, it was this startling thought which probably led me to open my mouth and send things careering off course.

We'd pulled apart for a breath, his hands were seemingly everywhere, and —

'Wait,' I interrupted breathily, before he could kiss me again. 'Where have you been this week?'

He completely ignored me, his hands at the buttons of my robes. I caught them in mine to halt their progress.

'Why did you not come to see me?' I pressed.

I will never know why, when I'd achieved my aim in getting him where I wanted him, I sabotaged it so effectively.

He looked mildly irritated and stepped away, sitting down on the bed. 'I told you, I have been busy.'

'Too busy to show your face for one night — really?'

'Perhaps I have others besides you to call upon?'

I reared back at that. 'You're very ambiguous, but I don't believe in your mystery callers any more than you believe in mine.'

He conceded the point with a shrug. 'Waiting for me, were you?'

I couldn't bring myself to answer, feeling a creeping sense of embarrassment come over me at the confirmation of what deep down I had suspected from the start —that he took something entirely different from our encounters than I did.

'I told you you need to get out more.'

I scoffed angrily. 'Excuse me –'

He forestalled me with a groan. 'For Merlin's sake, Granger, do you ever stop talking?'

I ignored a brief stab of hurt. 'Perhaps if you said a bit more then I wouldn't have to.'

His eyebrows shot up at that. 'You've got me here under false pretences, clearly. You never said you wanted my company simply for conversation.'

I shook my head weakly.

There was a shadow of a smirk evident around his mouth. The ensuing silence was deafening, though. It rang only with his complete reticence and my increasing realisation that I might now be in over my head. To this day, I do not know what answers to my questions I expected or wanted from him. Maybe I'd hoped for something — a hint or a sign that pointed to more than just his cavalier attitude.

'I think you're right; I do talk too much.' I could feel the momentum had been lost and sobering self-consciousness was creeping upon me. 'I think I need more wine, too.'

I took the opportunity to slip out and scuttle to the kitchen. I poured two glasses, but only stared at them for a time. I could do without the wine, I thought wryly. I could already feel my face flushed and my brain a tad fuzzy. Conversely, I also felt cold — cold with uncertainty and confusion.

In a moment, he was next to me. He took the glasses from me and set them down. 'You don't need more wine,' he said. 'And neither do you talk too much.'

He sighed at length. 'If you wish for my company, Hermione, then you need only ask for it.'

He still didn't understand, I thought grimly. Did he not know how entirely frustrating his aloofness was? And what about his thoughts and feelings, I wondered. What did he think about me? Do you ever wish for my company? That is what I wanted so badly to find out.

'What about what you want? What is it you wish for?' There was a mixture of wonder and pity in my tone.

We seemed to look at each other for the longest time. I even thought he might simply refuse to answer, as was sometimes his wont. Perhaps it would have been better if he had.

'I wish for nothing — I want nothing,' he replied eventually. Blankly.

'I don't —'

'That much I do know, Hermione,' he interrupted firmly.

I nearly tried to protest again, but the comment seemed rather too loaded to refute with any success. It would be an entirely pointless exercise. I wondered if over time I might not be able to change that outlook. As I watched him, with the firm set of his jaw and the blank countenance, I thought of my naievete again. I looked next down at the robes I wore and then at the ends of my robustly tended curls that seemed to taunt me.

Uneasily, I thought about the week, and more, that had gone by and how preoccupied I had become with him. I thought about the time I had spent tweaking my appearance, and what had it been for? He really could take it or leave it — he was not preoccupied with me. I felt unaccountably disappointed to comprehend it. I also felt foolish.

And of course, I knew it shouldn't matter. I had agreed that this was to be nothing more than a distraction between us. He hadn't promised anything more than that, so it was unreasonable of me to feel this suddenly churlish towards him now. Knowing full well the life he had lived, I could even see how it was he had come to feel this way — why he chose to live his life emotionally unattached.

Understanding how his mind worked did not help me — it could not change anything for me. The sticking point was, I knew it really did matter to me. It would come to matter greatly. It would matter to me whether he whiled away moments thinking about me or wanting me. It would matter to me whether he wanted to seek out my company for no other reason than to be with me.

Of course, I could accept that my feelings would always be one-sided and continue to dig myself an even deeper hole, simply for the short-term enjoyment of it. Or I could use my brain and take a step back to protect myself, while I still had the chance, and while I had not yet revealed too much.

'I think you were right, Severus, when you said this would not end well. I'm sorry if... Well, perhaps it's best if we just leave it there...'

I trailed off, relieved at the indifferent tone I had managed to pull from somewhere.

'Very well.'

But I was sorry, deeply so, because I could feel the dread in the pit of my stomach knowing he had it in him to simply turn around and go with not even a flicker of expression. But to his credit, he seemed to know, as he always did, the direction of my thoughts, and he allowed me a little more than that.

'We are the same, you and me,' he began,'though life has treated us both rather differently, of course. I see the loneliness in you and the life yet to be fulfilled, but unlike me, you have so much more in there still to give.' I felt rather than saw the light touch of his finger on my chest to emphasise his point. 'It… Well, it spills out in almost everything you do.'

The tone of his voice was not harsh; it was soft, yet matter of fact, and I felt dazed by it.

'Do not look to me, though, Hermione, to bridge the gap. I cannot do it, I do not want to do it, and I do not deserve to do it. There will be someone or something that will deserve the focus of your passion one day, I'm sure of it.'

I could only nod dumbly. There seemed nothing to be gained by doing anything more.

He stepped back and I knew he would shortly disappear. His expression was not unduly disheartened, and I felt a stab of bitterness once more at his self-control.

'Well,' he continued in a brisker tone, 'now we know where we are'.

He paused, an indecipherable look on his features.

'The offer still stands, though, if you change your mind — you know where to find me.'

After the crack of his Apparition faded into silence, I must have stood staring into the ether for several minutes — utterly flummoxed. Eventually, I flopped down onto the settee and put my head in my hands. I told myself to get a grip. I was a confident, independent young woman. I didn't need the attentions of a man to validate my existence or to give my life meaning. I had managed well enough thus far and would continue to manage just fine.

I thought of his parting shot and sprang to my feet contemptuously. Change my mind? I certainly didn't need to go begging for the scraps of attention that Severus Snape might deign to grant me.

Oh no.

I could and would do better than that.

AN: Thanks for reading ; )