The Match and the Spark

4. Breaking and Entering

Sleep would evade him that night, he knew it.

The point was, he could hardly believe what he'd done. Granger left, and he stood stock still in the middle of his living room, wondering if he might have imagined the previous hour. What had he agreed to? He sat down and leant forward with a loud groan of frustration, putting his head into his hands. He clenched his teeth and ran his hands through his hair, clutching the roots tightly for a moment. He did not have the energy to become embroiled in any problem of Hermione Granger's.

He sprang to his feet and stepped restlessly between the mantelpiece, the bookcase, and the settee, and wondered at what on earth he'd done. Why had he done it? If only, if only he hadn't gone to Gringotts' that morning. And why had he had the awful misfortune to not only encounter Granger, but to remove two of her fingers, as well?

He felt uneasy about what she aimed to do. He'd been responsible for many things in the past, but he would not be responsible for her running off into uncharted territory. He regretted, already, saying he would help her.

He'd thought at the time that, maybe, Hermione Granger's problem was to be about Potter… but no…

If he were honest with himself, that was why he'd finally given in with regard to speaking with her. Protecting Potter—clearly it was a deplorable habit he was going to have to rid himself of. Quickly. He didn't owe the brat anything anymore.

What could he do? He could hardly encourage her to chase after a known Death Eater in good conscience. His conscience was heavy enough as it was. He would have nothing to do with any of it. He'd made a mistake in allowing her to have the opportunity to question him as she had.

He could quite easily say he did not give one care as to what the future held for Ronald Weasley. So he was cursed, he supposed it was regrettable, but it was nothing to do with him. He could understand her need to resolve the issue, but it was just her method. It was Gryffindor behaviour at its most predictable, and possibly its most foolhardy, too. He'd had his fill of Gryffindors, and then some.

He did not care what the future held for Granger, either, but Selwyn would have no compunction about dispatching her if their paths crossed. And he had his doubts about Potter's involvement—she'd seemed cagey when talking about him. He was prepared to bet money that he would not show up with her for their second meeting. And if Potter did have nothing to do with this, then Severus knew he would receive the blame for not stopping Granger. That's what would happen—he knew it. Her visit to him would be found out, and then he'd be accused of not acting responsibly, irrespective of the fact that Granger was a fully independent being. He was very nearly always the accused, and for once, he was mightily sick of it.

And that night, as expected, he was not able to manage any sleep. For the most part, he lay upon the settee with an arm over his eyes, fervently trying to recall a time when life—his life—had not been such a burden, a completely tiring burden. It had always been the same—he could never remember such a time. Thus, he concluded there couldn't have ever been one, and as far as he could see, there never would be, either.

In turn, such maudlin self-pity, such pointless reflection, and the fact that it was he thinking such thoughts, disgusted him to the core. Eventually, when he could stand his thoughts no longer, he more or less spent the remainder of the night, staring into the embers of his fire, waiting for her knock on the door.

She arrived on his doorstep, perhaps, unsociably early, but he couldn't summon the energy for affront. Even on good nights, he rarely slept all the night through. He wasn't one who valued sleep, even though he seemed to spend an inordinate amount of time feeling like he needed it. Having said that, the early winter mornings were dark and cold, and only added to his complete irritation at what he'd set in motion.

Neither was he surprised at her hastiness—she was obviously convinced—deluded—that she could trace a missing Death Eater who had no wish to be found.

Dawn was beginning to slowly steal across the sky when he opened his door. She looked at him faintly apologetically.

'I hope I did not wake you—I know it's early, but I couldn't wait…'

He stood aside without a word. Curtains twitched in the window opposite, but he paid the occurrence no heed. He could not give a shit about his neighbours. They could think what they liked. Shutting the door, he moved down the passage, tugging at his black jumper against the chill of the outside that had followed him inside. Granger stood in the middle of his living room looking far more wary than she had the previous day. Indeed, as he looked at her, there was the certain deference visible in her posture that he'd been used to seeing as her teacher.

'I should like to say, sir, that I'm sorry if I was a bit… hard-headed yesterday…'

He felt like snorting with derision. This was typical Granger—finally remembering who he was and probably baulking at the fact that she'd barged into her former teacher's privacy without consideration or care. He supposed the one thing he could always say about her was that she had respected her teachers, but time had gone on too long to fall back into those ways. His teaching days were long gone. Respect meant very little to him now.

She glanced unobtrusively around his dark little sitting room. He pulled open the curtains to let in a weak gleam of light, and fiddled with the net that hung over the window, before turning and folding his arms across his chest.

He was quite positive that no one else really did know of what she was up to, apart from himself. Well, it only added to his resolve for what he was about to say.

'Your visit has been wasted, I'm afraid. I shall not be helping you in this matter, Miss Granger.' He turned away from her and busied himself with stoking the fire. He was anticipating an indignant outburst, but it never came. He glanced briefly over his shoulder.

She was staring at the floor, her bottom lip caught between her teeth.

He straightened and just looked at her silently. Maybe she'd expected his change of heart.

'Why?' she asked finally, in a quiet voice.

He lifted his shoulders flippantly to hide his uncertainty over her reaction. 'I cannot, in good conscience, encourage you in this.'

It was the truth—a little more than perhaps he would like to reveal, but it was probably too late in the day to deny that he had a conscience. Those days were long gone, too, thanks to Potter.

She sighed and sat down, rubbing a hand over her face.

'I'd advise you to drop the issue, Miss Granger. If the Aurors cannot track him down, what on earth makes you think you can?'

She removed her hand and looked up at him helplessly. 'But what else is there? What else can I do?'

'I don't know,' he admitted.

'Then I must do this, with or without your input.' Her expression was one of complete seriousness. She stood up. 'I am sorry to have bothered you. You don't owe… Let's just say you've done enough for me, for Ron…' She smiled awkwardly, and it was a weak smile.

Her words did not ease his mind. He knew it was not really about owing anyone anything. He had information on Selwyn and she needed it. She needed it for the continued existence of her friend. And maybe Weasley was more than just her friend, he didn't know. But, was it wrong for him to deny her his assistance, even though his reasons for doing so were not entirely selfish? He did not wish to see her on the wrong side of Selwyn. And, did Ronald Weasley deserve to spend the rest of his life confined to a hospital bed? No. He couldn't blame her for wanting to try.

'What, pray, do you expect to discover that the Aurors have not?'

It was useless—she would not be made to see the folly of her quest, not yet, anyway. Her eyes became suddenly alert, as if she had detected the shift in his thoughts.

'Rounding up Death Eaters is a pressing obligation for the Aurors, and while they've been successful some of the time, they have relied upon sightings by the public, usually mistaken sightings, and certain incidents—not a detailed examinations of the facts; of establishing a trail. Regardless of whether Selwyn has gone to ground, there will be a trail, however faint.' She shrugged. 'There has to be.'

Privately, he rather agreed that there was a trail to be picked up. He'd known Selwyn to be one of the more competent Death Eaters, but he was not above making the odd mistake. And if anyone could pick up that trail, he had no doubt Hermione Granger could, but following it was a completely different matter.

Severus took a step towards her and looked at her sharply. 'Potter does not know you are here.'

It wasn't a question. He knew it.

Her expression flickered momentarily, and then her gaze dropped downwards in confirmation. That is what he'd considered during his late night meditations. He knew Potter—knew how his mind worked, whether he liked it or not, and Potter would not let his friend traipse after a dangerous Death Eater, alone, while his other friend lay comatose.

'No one does,' she admitted reluctantly.

He grimaced. 'I shall not help you unless you inform Potter first.'

He would shift the responsibility onto Potter.

She shook her head slowly. 'Harry will stop me from doing this.'

'Maybe you should consider that, for once, he speaks sense.'

'You know where the Selwyns' lived, don't you?' she asked, entirely changing the subject.

He frowned.

'Look, sir, I just want to have a look around his house. It's deserted now—no one will ever know that I was there. If I find nothing, and I admit it is likely, then I shall drop the whole thing.'

'Breaking and entering is a crime punishable in Azkaban.'

'I know.'

She clasped her hands together and there was something tentative in her stance. 'You know of my intentions.'

'I'm sorry?'

'You're concerned that someone should be informed of my intentions, well, you know.'

'Miss Granger, that is precisely the type of responsibility I wish to avoid!'

'Then, why don't you come with me?'

'I think not!' Merlin, he needed to get rid of her immediately.

She held out her hands entreatingly.'It would be easier if you just took me to the house. The quicker I get there, the quicker I'll be able to determine if this is all just a waste of time.'

Severus said nothing, content to just marvel at her audacity.

'Please, sir. Consider it so that I will owe you a favour in return.'

He almost laughed. What on earth could he ever need from her? Still, perhaps it was injudicious of him to dismiss such an opportunity, even if it was Granger. It was always prudent to be speculative in such matters. He could very well find himself in need of assistance in the future. It was perhaps worth taking into consideration.

He did indeed know where Selwyn had lived. It was actually in the middle of nowhere—no one was likely to see anyone going into the house. And, he supposed it was unlikely she would find anything that the Aurors had not already removed from there.

It was perhaps easier to just give in.

'You bother me no more after this, Miss Granger,' he warned. He was not naïve enough to think that his words would be the end of the matter, especially if she did find something at the Selwyn house. For his own part, he was convinced she would not. It was unlikely Selwyn had even stepped foot inside the house since the war. Though, there had been that apparent sighting in Cumbria she'd mentioned…

No matter, he had an idea as to what he would do to put a lid on his own involvement and her would-be detective. Perhaps he should enact it now, before traipsing off to trespass on private property, but he would prefer that she come to the conclusion that she was out of her depth on her own. It would be far easier for her to come to terms with the prospect that she might actually be helpless in the matter of her friend, if she did.

Severus Summoned a long, black Muggle coat and shrugged it on, buttoning it up and turning up the collar in preparation for the chill outside. A scarf; he should probably put a scarf on, he decided. He held out his hand and, from somewhere, a length of grey wool appeared. Winding it around his neck, he felt himself pause, seizing tightly on the ends of the scarf. He was getting himself in deeper than he ought. He stared out of the window contemplatively. How could he just abandon his routine, just like that? He never went out for anything less than a necessity. And this, this wasn't a necessity. This shouldn't be anything to do with him…

'Sir?'

He released his scarf and turned around to face the source of his current problems.

'Ready?'

He nodded stiffly.

'My, ah, fingers are better,' she said, lifting them up and smiling ruefully.

He'd completely forgotten they'd even been injured. His mind could be so… jumbled at times. He mentally shook himself. Now wasn't the time to reflect on his mental state.

'To Cumbria, then.' He held out his arm reluctantly.

'Cumbria? I knew it! He was sighted there only two months ago!'

'So you say…' He'd take such a supposed incident with a generous pinch of salt. He resisted the urge to huff. At least if all went well this escapade would all be over by the end of the day, and he would have quiet once more. 'I am not going to give you the precise location.'

He saw her jaw clench, but she did not argue the point.

He Disapparated and they appeared on the edge of a field, shielded by a tall hedgerow. Severus lifted open a nearby gate, and they passed through the hedgerow. In front of them stood a fairly large detached house. He'd been there only once before, for a dinner party, of all things. Dumbledore had made him go.

'The Selwyns' are a Pureblood family. They avoided outright association with anything Dark for many years, though they privately subscribed to the usual ideals, namely Pureblood superiority. Horatio Selwyn was only recruited during the Dark Lord's second reign. A brute of a man, he did not take it kindly when his wife and only child were killed by Muggles. That is how he tells it, but it was actually a railway accident.'

'Oh, I did not know that.'

'Don't feel sorry for him, Miss Granger. I assure you he got his vengeance—repeatedly. He was, is a brute of a man; some might say his wife and child had a lucky escape.'

He did not consider that he was over-egging the pudding in order to warn her off; he spoke only the truth. He knew Selwyn would not hesitate about doing away with her if she got in his way.

They stood still for several moments, Severus sweeping his gaze purposefully across the scene before him. His companion, however, was not so patient. She started stepping forward; he flung out a warning arm and sighed impatiently.

'A moment, if you please, Miss Granger. One cannot just waltz up to the front door as one pleases.'

'The house is empty.'

'That's as may be, but you do not know that the Aurors are not watching—have not set up wards to detect presences that ought not to be here.'

She looked away and nodded sharply in acknowledgement.

'What wards can you detect?' he asked. She could do all the grunt-work. He was there to merely observe.

She had her wand out and her eyes closed. 'I can feel detection spells, but I think they're keyed only to Selwyn. There's an anti-Apparition ward on the house.'

He nodded. 'I suppose the Aurors cannot be running about over every little intrusion. Let us proceed then.'

He let her take the lead as they traversed through the field, which was already starting to appear overgrown—the grass was quite high. It swished around them in the strong wind. The sun was illuminating the sky a little stronger now, and he glanced around again, looking for any signs of life. As far as he could see, there were none. But it was so open. He'd never been of an agoraphobic turn, but right then, he felt too exposed—too visible. It made him want to shiver.

He glared angrily at the bushy head in front of him. But it was he who was stupid.

Stupid, stupid man! He should never have agreed to this. He was quite sure that normally he would not have done. He'd gone about it in all the wrong way. What had happened to his wits? He feared he'd misplaced them months ago—they'd stagnated along with the rest of him over the past months.

The came to the gravel pathway leading to the house, and that, too, was beginning to be spotted with weeds. Severus noted that the gravel seemed rather disturbed for a house that had supposedly lain empty for six months, but then with Aurors tramping about the place, it was perhaps unsurprising.

Granger stepped up to a window and peered inside.

'Expecting to see him sitting in there supping a cup of tea, are we?'

She didn't give much sign of a reaction, apart from a little frown. Even to his own ears the jibe had sounded half-hearted. He was out of practice, greatly so.

Pushing past him, she moved around the back of the house. 'There's a Locking charm on the door,' she observed, trying the handle as she removed her wand from within her sleeve. 'Hang on…' she commented ponderingly.

Severus crossed over to her. She was running her hand over a the partially splintered doorframe.

'Looks like the door has been kicked in at some point.'

He nodded. 'Probably a case of too many Aurors watching too many Muggle police programmes. The Locking charm has been replaced, after all. Can you undo the charm?'

'I don't know…'

It took her a few minutes or so, but eventually, the door did click open. Inside, they stood in the kitchen.

'Where do you suggest we start?'

'We, Miss Granger? I'm merely sight-seeing.'

Her jaw tightened. 'Was there a study, or office, here, that you know of?'

'Bottom of the hallway. I shall check the kitchen.'

The look on her face seemed to ask, 'What on earth do you expect to find in the kitchen?' But she disappeared out of the room without comment.

Once she'd gone, Severus pulled out a chair and sat at the kitchen table. He didn't feel right here, and it wasn't his conscience pricking over trespassing in someone else's home. Something bothered him, however, and he couldn't put his finger on it. Maybe his lack of sleep was catching up with him already. Or, was it? He spent most days feeling tired, after all.

He produced his wand and laid it on the table. He felt uncomfortable. The scars on his neck began to throb intermittently, as if in agreement with him. He drew his hand up to rub them through the wool of his scarf. He hadn't liked Selwyn—well, he hadn't liked any of the Death Eater's, in fact. But Selwyn had been no hired thug like some of the others had been. Conceited, arrogant, and completely cold, he'd had resources, and importantly, a position within the Ministry.

It occurred to him, then, that he should have enquired of Granger as to who else of the Death Eaters had evaded capture. That might give them some help—but no, after today, there would be an end to the matter, for his part, at least.

He swiped a hand across his brow and clenched his wand tightly in his fist. He probably shouldn't let her wander around the house alone. Sucking in a deep breath, he got to his feet. He found her in the study with a notebook in hand, scribbling down something with a quill—her 'observations,' no doubt. She returned the notebook to a pocket, and continued rifling through a writing bureau.

'Did you make this mess, or was it already like this?'

She glanced up briefly. 'No—clearly, the Aurors have all the subtlety of a herd of elephants.'

He noticed then, that she was wearing black leather gloves, and somewhere deep inside him, he felt amused.

'Aurors have not taken to forensic science as our Muggle cousins have. I don't think you need to worry about leaving your fingerprints behind.'

She carried on rummaging. 'Perhaps not, but I thought it might be prudent, nevertheless.' She reached inside her pocket. 'Here, I brought some for you, as well.'

He simply stared. She'd come prepared; well, that was interesting. He raised a sceptical eyebrow at her.

'It was presumptuous of me, I know, but I prepare for all eventualities.'

He snatched the gloves off her and stuffed his hands into them. Ridiculous girl, she was. He walked around the room and sat down at a desk facing a window. He picked up a photograph of Selwyn standing, shaking hands vigorously, with Cornelius Fudge in the Atrium. He shook his head. What a two-faced sycophantic bastard. He pushed the picture over, so that it lay face down. Then he picked it back up again. He touched the tip of his wand to the photograph and, after a moment, an object materialised in the air. He placed it into his coat pocket. Why he was doing such a thing, he didn't know, but perhaps he should prepare for all eventualities, too.

He lifted his eyes slowly to look outside. There was still no sign of life, but something niggled at the back of his mind as he scanned the gardens outside.

'Shall we move on, sir?'

He looked at her and shrugged.

They moved from room to room, but did not find anything that seemed suggestive. There was nothing that indicated where Selwyn might escape to. They looked through old bills, letters, photographs, objects, possessions, but it was useless, as he'd anticipated it to be. She didn't even know what she was looking for.

He hoped, then, that it would be easy. She would find nothing, and he could be back to Spinner's End and never hear one more word about it.

But, he should have known it was not to be. Her stroke of luck occurred when she discovered the Selwyn family tree on a wall in the library, quickly finding Horatio near the bottom. 'His mother and father are gone,' she mused aloud, tracing a finger along the tree. 'Look, he had an elder brother who died aged only three years old—Arthur Selwyn.'

Severus merely stood by, not particularly interested. Clearly, the Pureblood rot had begun settling in for generations.

'But look at this! He has an uncle, on his mother's side, a John Mortimer, still alive. In fact, he's the only close relative he has left. This has to be it! There was an address book downstairs, I'm sure. I bet we can find out where the uncle lives.'

She was talking a mile a minute and her face was triumphant. She turned in the direction of the landing, no doubt intending to shoot off immediately after the address book. But he had to act fast, and gritting his teeth, Severus quickly placed himself between her and the door.

'Stop, Miss Granger.'

'I'm sorry?'

'You simply cannot go gallivanting across the country harassing people, however much you appear to be practiced at it. Do you know the first thing about John Mortimer? What makes you think he is likely to give you information on the whereabouts of his nephew?'

'I can try,' she said flatly.

'No, you can't.'

She stepped towards him. 'I can't?'

'You can't.' It was time to inform her of exactly where she stood. 'I cannot allow it. I could inform the Aurors of your intentions, you know.'

Her eyes flashed with pique. 'What could they do? It's a free country; I can go where I please, and if I happen to discover a relative of Selwyn's while I'm there, well, that's Providence for you, isn't it?'

'They could make it difficult for you, Miss Granger, believe me. They will not want some young upstart running around after them, meddling, potentially damaging their already fragile reputation. Why, even Mr Mortimer himself might report you to the Aurors.'

Her eyes closed in frustration.

'Why are you doing this? Why won't you let me go on as I like?' There was a pleading look upon her face. 'You are not my teacher anymore that you can tell me what to do. In fact, you hold no position of authority over me. We are as good as nothing to each other—you are not responsible for me or my actions. I appreciate your concern, but I assure you, it is not needed.'

'You should have thought of this before you roped me in, though, shouldn't you?'

She sighed. 'Look, sir. I have the first link here. The uncle—Selwyn's only relative in the country that we know of! Providing that there has never been some huge falling out, don't you think it highly likely that he might have gone to his uncle for help? And take a look around, will you? It's obvious Selwyn has been back here! Where the devil are the portraits, hmm? See there, that space where clearly a painting used to hang? There are several such spaces around the house, and yet, there are Muggle-style paintings still hanging. Conclusion, then; Selwyn did not want to risk the possibility of his portraits blabbing to the Aurors! This is a Pureblood household. Where's the house-elf? He had one, I assume?'

Severus nodded reluctantly. Merlin, he hadn't even considered the possibility of the elf when entering the house.

'See. So where is the elf? I've garnered as much information as I can from the Aurors and what little has been leaked to the Press. There's never been any mention of an elf. Clearly, Selwyn came back here and removed anything incriminating before the Aurors even got off their lazy backsides and decided to investigate!'

She was breathing quickly and was flushed with anger. Then, she reached for her sleeve and removed her wand. He saw the movement—knew what it meant before he even saw her wand, but he didn't move. He stood there and simply let her draw her wand between them. Why was he motionless? Had he really, finally, lost it? A voice in his head screamed at him to react, to at least grasp his own wand.

'I can't let you stop me, Professor Snape. I care about Ron too much. Please, stand aside, or…'

'Or… what?'

He saw the flicker in her eyes. This was Hermione Granger. She may have attacked him at one point in the past, but she would not do so now. He knew it from the look on her face. She didn't have a clue what to do.

'I could Obliv—'

'No, I don't think so, Miss Granger.' He stepped forward and, in a flash, snatched her wand out of her grip. She protested loudly in surprise, highly indignant.

'How dare you—'

He moved around her and sent one sharp jab to her back with her wand and nodded towards the door. 'Get downstairs you silly girl.'

Her cheeks flushed an angry, embarrassed red, but she capitulated and made for the staircase.

Severus indicated for her to go into the kitchen. 'Sit,' he demanded.

She sat at the table with a face like thunder. 'What now, then?'

'You will remain quiet while I think.' He sat down opposite her and placed her wand on the table. 'You will not touch it until I say so.'

She scoffed incredulously and immediately leant forward to grab it.

He was too quick for her, however, and had the wand in his pocket.

She scowled deeply. 'Give me my wand.'

'I won't tell you again—quiet.'

He sat there for many moments, outwardly still, but his mind was a veritable tumult of thoughts. There was one that continually rose above all else, though—that she was right. Selwyn, or someone, at least, had clearly been back to the house. When, and how many times, well, that remained to be uncovered. The signs, so far, did seem to suggest that Selwyn had remained in the country. If he were in her shoes, he couldn't deny it, he would want to do the same as her.

'I am not going to take the blame for you coming to a sticky end, Miss Granger. You shall have to tell all to Potter before proceeding. Beyond that, well, I shall leave you to it.'

She fixed him with a surveying stare, as if weighing up her options.

'Come with me to see the uncle.'

He shook his head vehemently, a little surprised at her request, nonetheless.

'Harry will not allow me to do this alone. And if Molly finds out…'

'She might react like me?'

'Come with me, please. I will tell Harry.'

Severus sighed inwardly. What if he did help her? It was not as though he had any duties preventing him from doing so. And as much as he longed for the silence of his house, he knew it was only because he was used to it. Time was, he'd liked the company of others. All that awaited him at Spinner's End was… himself, and most days he was heartily sick of himself. It was something he couldn't get away from. Diverting his mind, however temporarily, might be a blessed relief.

To help her—to help Weasley, was the right thing to do, wasn't it? In the past, in his bleaker moments of indecision, his thoughts would turn, inexorably towards the bane of his existence, or the one redeeming feature of it—depending on how you looked at it—and he would ask himself, 'What would Lily do? What would she want me to do?' It was typically him that he should use a dead woman for a moral guide, but there it was. He didn't even have to think about it in this instance. She would expect him to help Granger.

And to see Selwyn get his comeuppance, well, he wouldn't mind that opportunity. He despised the man—despised them all. He could recall any number of Death Eater meetings where he'd itched to stand up and curse the lot of them, one by one, into nothingness. Curse them for their unending stupidity, their ignorance, and their complete inhumanity, and then curse himself for ever having seen eye-to-eye with them.

They should all pay—just like he was.

'Go and get the address.'

He clenched his fists under the table as his neck pulsed hotly. His judgement… Was this right?

'I beg your pardon?'

'I said, Miss Granger, go and get the address for Mr John Mortimer.'

She sprang instantly from her chair and scuttled off to the study. Severus got to his feet. Possibly, he was making a huge mistake. Did he not have more responsibility, now that he was planning on going with her? And what use was he going to be to her? He was hardly functioning on all cylinders. He could barely take care of himself, let alone have the wherewithal to take on a ruthless Death Eater.

Granger returned with a folded up piece of parchment. 'It says 'Six Bells cottage, Berwick-upon-Tweed, Northumberland.'

He nodded and thrust her wand towards her. 'Come, we should not linger here. Let it be known, Miss Granger, that I shall be saving a favour to be cashed in at a later date. Are we clear?'

She hesitated; he could see it in the way she took back her wand. Nevertheless, she looked him in the eye. 'Certainly, Professor.'

He wondered, as they travelled beyond the wards, whether she would live to regret it.

She very well might, he realised.

And, then again, so might he.

AN : )