The Pitfalls of Being an Insufferable Know-it-all

Twenty Three

'Cresswell is dead.'

I had been shown into his rooms, somewhat reluctantly, I feel, but he could not have failed to note the urgency in my tone. And when I pronounced Cresswell's fate, he paled noticeably — a somewhat satisfying vindication of my intrusion, I thought.

I moved to stand by the roaring fireplace, in the hope of chasing away the chill that had pervaded my bones ever since discovering Cresswell's body. 'He was lying there — on the floor,' I pressed on grimly. 'We called the Aurors, of course…' I considered the flames for several moments, before closing my eyes and shaking my head. 'Merlin, I don't know if I've done the right thing.' I brought my hands up to my face and sighed. 'I, ah, pretended I didn't know who he was.'

I glanced at him warily. He just stared at me, so I ploughed on, knowing I had to get to the crux sooner or later.

'Not only have I lied to the Aurors,' I blurted, 'but I removed evidence from the scene, too.'

I pulled out the envelope from within my robes and opened it. I couldn't bring myself to look at the photographs once more, so I simply shoved the missive at him. I watched closely as he took out the photographs and studied them.

The only concession he made as to their subject was a grim tighten of his jaw. He stared at them for several moments, before he slapped them down onto a nearby table.

'For fuck's sake,' he hissed, throwing himself down into a chair. He leaned forwards, putting his head in his hands.

For a moment I only watched, somewhat gratified that even he could not remain unflappable for once. But when he continued to make no further movement, I went to him and knelt down. I couldn't speak for a moment, the frustration of the situation weighed too heavily. I also felt indescribably sick with worry.

'Severus?' I whispered. 'I'm sorry; I think this is partly my fault – for pushing things too far.'

He lowered his hands immediately, peering down at me strangely for what seemed like an age. He appeared to be looking for something before speaking. It took everything I had to meet his stare.

'Then…' He began, his voice faltering marginally, 'you do not believe that I…'

I reached for his hand instinctively and felt my grip flex anxiously — the warm, slightly rough feel of it giving me something to concentrate on.

'No,' I hissed, aghast. 'I don't.'

He said nothing in reply.

Of course, I did not believe those photographs. Photographs which appeared to indicate incontrovertibly that Severus Snape was at the heart of an illegal smuggling ring. It was not him overseeing the packing up of Augurey feathers or cultivating Ashwinder eggs. It was not him who had orchestrated all this. And it was not him who would have duped me so utterly and comprehensively.

I could not do anything but trust him — for my own sanity if nothing else.

'Clearly, it is the Polyjuice again,' I ventured with quiet confidence. 'They have staged this, for what reason, I am at a loss, but...'

Whatever I intended after that, the words died in my throat. He watched me silently, but his eyes spoke wildly. I detected surprise and relief, gratitude and determination. There was something soft there too that, to my surprise, lingered a moment. I wondered at it and my heart seemed to pause in anticipation at what he might say next.

'I am not worthy, Granger; but I will not let you down. You have my word on that.'

He pulled his hand free and got to his feet, retreating to the far side of the room. I was stuck where I was perched for several seconds, pondering on that cryptic remark. I bit my lip and wiped my clammy hands on my robe, raising up off the floor. I watched him down a measure of Firewhisky, whereupon he rounded on me. Already I could see the moment, whatever it was, had passed and he was focused once more.

'You did right by removing that letter from the scene.' He nodded to himself with a small ironic smirk tugging at his lips. 'For surely that is what they intended.'

I shrugged.

He fixed me with a piercing look. 'And you surely can deduce to what end their intentions were?'

Suddenly, I couldn't look at him. I felt myself sink into a chair, thinking this whole situation was quietly getting away from us.

'You will have to do it,' he urged, coming forwards.

My head snapped upwards.

'You have to.'

I felt myself spring to my feet. 'No! I'm not taking those photos to the Aurors, Severus! I don't care what they intended.' I folded my arms and stubbornly turned away.

'They will expect you to act on this, Hermione.'

I felt my eyes close.

'The opportunity is gone,' I countered.

'Irrelevant,' he remarked. 'You can submit them anonymously. They do not need to know the full story yet.'

I faced him, gaping in disbelief. 'They will arrest you.'

He shrugged, which served to infuriate me.

'I can't just Owl the Aurors some incriminating photographs of you and then walk away! Who knows how long it will take them to work out the truth? It will be all over the papers — everywhere! Your position here would be untenable, for starters.'

'Temporarily… I know you will get to the truth.'

I scoffed loudly at his glibness and stepped towards him. 'And what about Cresswell, hmm?'

He gave me a hard stare.

'Even the Aurors are going to connect the dots eventually and wonder whether you had Cresswell silenced'.

'I did not kill Cresswell, therefore, they cannot convict me of it.'

'How are we supposed to prove the use of Polyjuice at this stage?'

'This is all merely a distraction on their part — a sideshow. Those who wish to frame me know very well I could have any number of alibis for the events that have taken place — irrefutable alibis. They will smell a rat if you do not report me, Granger; and we will lose any element of surprise that we may have left.'

I wondered how someone could be so simultaneously sanctimonious and selfless. I watched him mutinously and considered the source of his vehemence. Was this sense? Cold logic? Or plain stupidity?

'You would dig this hole, would you — for the sake of the Augureys? Really?'

He did not answer straightaway and, to my consternation, he even avoided a direct answer.

'Something obviously has gone wrong… Most likely they discovered Cresswell's duplicity and realising it is too late to plug the gap, they are looking to mitigate the damage and retreat underground till the heat dissipates. They took their opportunity, Granger. We won't get another one.'

I turned back to the fire and sighed heavily. It seemed to me to be a venture fraught with risk. Furthermore, this path seemed blurry to me in a way it clearly wasn't for him. I didn't like feeling two steps behind him. I found my eyes wandering slightly to the nearby shelves and furniture, wondering wistfully if I could not have encountered these environs under better circumstances.

'I don't like this,' I muttered grimly, wrapping my arms around my waist.

'You've become boring in your old age, Granger.'

I ignored his jibe, feeling I didn't have the energy to fire one back. It was his usual flippancy, of course, and I took no real offence, but the word 'boring' pricked at me nevertheless.

'I hope you know what you are doing,' I grumbled to myself as I spun around, snatched up the envelope and made for the door.

I only halted because I happened to notice that portentous glitter in his eye, even from where I was stood.

'What?' I demanded tersely.

'Well… Leaving already?' he observed with a raised eyebrow. 'It's my last night of liberty, you know.'

The smirk on his face caused me to close my eyes and shake my head ruefully. 'In your dreams.'

He inclined his head in a concessionary gesture. 'My apologies; you will share a drink with me, though, before you depart?'

I faltered. I knew I'd be better off taking my leave. Still, there were a lot of things I knew I'd be better off doing, but I never did them. My desire for his company was far more pressing. The challenge of engaging with him too persuasive. 'Very well,' I replied evenly. 'I'll have tea, please.'

I deliberately ignored his frown of disgust and moved over to the window to look out over the twinkling lights of the city. It was a bit too dark in these rooms, I decided uncomfortably. It was always hard enough dealing with him on my own patch, let alone in his. Tea was a good call.

In time, he appeared at my elbow. 'Your… tea.'

'Thank you.'

I turned back to the window, unsure of anything to say — unsure of what he might be intending by keeping me here. He volunteered nothing more, which irritated me slightly. Perhaps it was those prickling thoughts disposed me to make a dry observation.

'Never thought I'd ever find my way into your humble abode.'

He gave a low hum of agreement. 'Not many do…'

I glanced behind to where he was sat, feeling myself smile despite myself. 'I suppose I wasn't meant to either.'

'You weren't meant to do a lot of things, Granger; yet, you did them, anyway.'

I turned around fully and leaned against the window sill. 'I'm an independent woman — I can do what I want.'

I smiled further when he frowned at my pompous tone. It was only brief, until his usual blank expression returned.

'If only that were really true, hmm?'

I blinked at that, recognising the irony in his voice. He was right. It was a fallacy, of course. If only I could have done whatever I wanted. I would have walked out of the Ministry, post-haste. I would have told my superiors what I really thought of them. And where the man opposite was concerned… Merlin.

I nearly laughed aloud and pressed my hand to my mouth for a moment. 'Maybe it's for the best.'

'Undoubtedly,' he scoffed.

I considered the pang of wistfulness that pulsed in me. 'Perhaps we're both lacking in spontaneity.'

He actually shivered, and I did laugh then. Spontaneity had served me somewhat well when dealing with him in the past. I thought of our first night together. That had been uncharacteristically spontaneous of me. I searched for it within me at that moment, but I could only find an over-arching, creeping sense of increased dread.

I set my tea down. 'Severus, I'm still not sure this is the best thing for us to do. There must be another way…'

He rose to his feet shaking his head. 'It will be fine.'

'Will it?' I demanded. 'I don't see what there is to gain… Other than to smash your reputation to smithereens.'

'There's a reason they are targeting me, Granger. Mark me, once the wheels are set in motion something will happen… I know it. You will know it when you see it.'

'And what if they throw you in Azkaban in the mean time?' What if I fail on my part? I wondered.

He sighed. 'Your concern is gratifying, but you need not worry yourself on my account.'

He spoke softly, a bit too softly for my liking and I had to fight to keep my thoughts clear. He was almost perpetually derisive, yet the more time I spent with him, the more I saw through it. I could see that he did look gratified and I supposed he was not entirely used to the concern of others. What a novelty it must seem, I realised. I wondered again at the vehemence of his actions and hoped it was not born of some perverse need to wind me up into anxiety. Was he now enamoured of my attention? Did he wish to see how he could push it this way and that?

Or perhaps the War had given him a martyr complex? Did he now thrive on being seen as the persecuted? Consistently misunderstood and mistrusted?

I told myself to calm down and think objectively. He was not so much of a narcissist — I knew him enough to know that.

Therefore, perhaps he really was as dedicated to the cause as I was.

Suddenly, his hand touched my arm and I stifled a flinch.

'Very well…' I murmured as confidently as I could. 'I will deliver the photographs to the Aurors.'

He nodded his agreement and his hand fell away. I nearly did something stupid then. Perhaps it was the dwelling on spontaneity, but I nearly asked him if a man on his so-called last night of liberty might want company for a bit longer. All night long, even.

I buried it, however.

'Come,' he said gently. 'I think it would be prudent to bid you goodnight.'

I felt my cheeks heat and I wondered if my thoughts had been written all over my face. More likely he simply sensed it too, this now ever-present pull, force, or tension between us, whatever it was, whenever we were together. Or, perhaps, even when we were apart…

I could have screamed at him then in frustration. I wanted to shout at him to take me in his arms and do something to assuage the heat and the churning and the unease within me. But more than that, for him to want it as much as I did — to want me above all else. To need me.

That was it — to need me.

Instead, all I said was 'Good night, then.'

I headed to the door, somewhat grateful to have avoided making a fool of myself. 'I'll see you when I see you — good luck.'

He only nodded in reply.

I flew down the steps and did not stop for a single breath until I was back safely ensconced in my own abode. From there it was a night spent without sleep. I resorted to the comfort of the wine bottle, a few candles, and spread before me on my kitchen table, everything I had that linked to our investigation — maps, notes, my report, newspaper articles, and now those photographs. I made copies of them, packing one set into an envelope and using untraceable ink, marked it for the attention of the Auror office.

Then I set my mind to properly studying the subject matter of those photographs. The most damning, perhaps, showed Severus, or a Severus, inspecting boxes and packages, the contents of which were unclear. However, in the context of the other photographs, it was obvious what they contained. One photograph was of some sort of crude order form — an order for five Runespoor eggs and three Augurey feathers — and at the bottom in spiky script was Severus Snape's signature. Order fulfilled.

The signature was an interesting point, of course, and one that I would have to investigate. To me it seemed a good likeness, but on deeper examination it could prove useful. I considered all the pictures at length, trying to establish any clues — any sign that might give away a location or a person.

Beyond the fact they had been in Cresswell's possession, there was nothing in the photographs that appeared to link him to the activities. Perhaps Cresswell was the photographer. What connections would the Aurors make? By sending the photographs to them anonymously, they would not know they had come from Cresswell. Therefore, Cresswell's death might remain an entirely separate matter.

And when I'd exhausted myself over the matter, my mind turned north to Edinburgh and I felt as though my brain ached. It was as I was thinking I should have ignored all my better judgement and simply took what I wanted (if only for one night) that I eventually dropped off to sleep.

I could only have had a few hours fitful rest before I was awake again, before dawn. I dressed quickly, forced myself to eat some breakfast, and then I headed off to the Ministry. There was a risk I could be traced if I simply took the envelope to the Owl Office and so I'd thought of a better idea. There was a public letterbox at the front of the Ministry that was emptied every morning and delivered to each department. It would be nothing to breeze past and slot it in and, as long as no one witnessed me do it, there could be no other way of determining how it came to be there.

So, there it was. I dropped it in quietly as I passed and headed into the Ministry in my usual manner. Once in the office I made myself a strong cup of coffee and I retreated to my desk to wait.

It was surely one of the worst working days of my life as I sat there sleepwalking through my tasks, just waiting. Waiting what for, I wasn't entirely sure.

Nothing happened. All day there was nothing out of the ordinary. No one said anything to me other than what was necessary. I trudged home wondering how on earth I was going to make it through the evening, let alone the night, not knowing what was going on.

Perhaps the Auror Office was particularly lazy about opening the post?

What eventually unfolded is that, sometime later, I was lying on the settee, forcing myself to read when the fire in the grate suddenly glowed bright green.

'Hermione, are you there?'

It was Harry.

'I'm here.'

His head bobbed in the fire and I could hear the barely contained exhilaration in his voice. Reflexively, I felt my stomach clench.

'You'll never guess what…' He said in a rush. 'A team of Aurors went out to apprehend Snape today — Severus Snape!'

'Oh my…' I felt a prickle of guilt at being duplicitous with Harry.

'That isn't the best part — the office gossip is that he's fronting some organisation trafficking potions ingredients.'

I said nothing.

'Your work, Hermione! Whether Snape is guilty or not, this means you were right!'

And there it was — the beginning of the end for this tale. The beginning of the end for this juncture in my life. Change was coming. The ball had started rolling. It was Severus and I who had set it on its course, and yet...

Neither of us would entirely avoid getting trampled underfoot by it.

AN: Thanks for your patience and kind words : )