The Match and the Spark
6. We Fought the Law
He'd never actually seen a gun before; not up close and personal, anyway. And after surviving an attack by a giant snake, to get taken out by some Muggle contraption would have been truly ignominious, and that, simply, would never do. Not to mention there was also Miss Granger to think about. Therefore, Severus had no plans to get more closely acquainted with said contraption. But that meant heeding the warning from the unfamiliar man on the other side of the door, and he did not like being on the back foot. Not one bit.
The voice sounded again. 'Put your wands away, and I'll put mine away.'
Maybe if he'd been alone, he would have taken his chances—perhaps blast the door off its hinges, surprising them enough to get in a few hexes before they could react. But he wasn't alone—his former student was currently looking up at him for guidance.
The door started opening tentatively, and he looked at Granger, reluctantly lowering his wand, and indicating that she should step back from the door with him.
'Very well,' Severus said loudly to the men outside.
'Excellent.'
He still had his hand gripped on his wand. If they tried anything, well, they would come to see how fast his reflexes could be. At least, he hoped his reflexes were still quick off the mark.
The door opened fully revealing two men standing in the doorway.
'Put the gun away, Thomas,' said the elder of the two men as he stepped over the threshold. He glanced openly around the bedchamber, clearly looking for something. Severus hoped Granger had had the presence of mind to put the painting somewhere secure.
'You have the advantage of us. You know our names, but who are you?'
The elder man fixed him with a stern glance, while the other man stood silently blocking the doorway. 'I am Detective Chief Inspector Oakshott, and this, my Sergeant, Thomas. We are from the London Metropolitan Police and that is all you need to know.' Identification was briefly flashed in their direction.
Severus remained outwardly unmoved, but in reality, he was extremely puzzled as to what the Muggle police should be doing there, especially police from London. And more worryingly, why they should be aware that they were witch and wizard.
The man called Oakshott continued his casual perusal of the room. 'We were intrigued when you turned up here the first time. I had some idea of your reason for coming here, but I confess, that you should come back a second time, well, it's suggestive. If you are with-holding information pertaining to ongoing investigations, then I suggest you hand it over.' He looked between them with a hard expression.
Severus wasn't sure he could believe his ears.
'I'm sorry—are you talking about investigations into the disappearance of Horatio Selwyn?' asked Granger in some confusion.
Oakshott smiled—a wide, inherently false smile. 'I'm not sure that matters of… Muggle, as you patronisingly call us, national security is any of your business, Miss Granger. But it is mine, and so I ask again—are you with-holding evidence?'
'What jurisdiction do you have over us?' asked Severus, narrowing his eyes. As long as they retained their wands, they could hardly be arrested. But how did this Muggle man know so much?
The Inspector looked them calculatingly. 'I'm sure your Aurors would be more than happy to oblige us when they find out what you have been up to. They'll be most interested, I'm sure.'
'We were told the investigation into Selwyn's escape was closed. We're trying to help my friend, that is all,' said Granger calmly.
Severus felt a little jolt of surprise when Oakshott suddenly turned a contemplative gaze upon him and, in a dry, suspicious voice, said, 'Really?'
Severus fought against the sense of unease he felt, but it was obvious—this man knew about him, and not just his name.
'I will only warn you once, but should you be found to obstructing our investigation again, we will be forced to take action.'
'Is that a threat?' Severus asked, unable to keep an edge of contempt out of his voice.
Oakshott shrugged. 'If you choose to look at it that way, then yes, it is.' He clapped his hands together briskly. 'Now, I suggest you tell me why you have returned here.'
'Isn't it obvious?' Severus answered scornfully. 'Miss Granger insisted upon returning a second time. Our first visit proved unfruitful, and as I'm sure you can imagine, she is rather set upon helping her friend.'
Oakshott looked around the room again and Severus wondered if he would notice that dust had been disturbed around the painting they had stolen. 'This shall be the last time you come to this house,' he said in a warning voice. 'Be assured, we will know if you do come back, and if we can't contain you, we'll make sure your Aurors can. Now, I think it best you leave. Please have a safe journey back to, ah, Spinner's End, isn't it, Mr Snape?'
Severus instinctively made to step forward, feeling a flash of anger. His hand twitched, longing to turn his wand upon the man. A hand caught tightly onto his sleeve, and he reigned in the impulse. Oakshott looked like he wanted to smirk.
'How do you know where I live?' Severus snarled at him, removing his arm from Granger's grasp.
'We know a lot of things, Mr Snape, you might do well to remember it. Now, go.'
There was anger coursing through him that he hadn't felt in a long while. He stared openly at man, and he looked unabashedly back. There were many things he wished to do, and leave was not one of them. He wanted to thrust his wand into the man's neck and show him exactly what a threat looked like. But Thomas was watching, prepared, no doubt, to produce his firearm at a second's notice. And, there was still Granger to think about.
Oakshott's eyebrow twitched in challenge, but Severus grimly quashed the urge to react. Clenching his jaw, he moved towards the door. He stormed down the staircases as quickly as possible, uncaring that his companion was nearly running to keep up with him. He stepped out of the door, and outside, he looked about wildly. How had they got here? There was no sign of a car nearby. But as he looked eastwards, he could see that they could have easily left a vehicle on the side of the road, concealed behind one of the hedgerows.
'How did they know we were here?' he demanded of Granger when she appeared out of the house.
He'd felt it. He'd bloody well felt it the first time they'd come—the feeling of being watched. He should trust his instincts more, he realised. Maybe they were not as dormant as he'd first anticipated.
'God knows,' she replied, lifting her hands resignedly. 'I can't think how they…' She trailed off abruptly.
'What?'
She was looking up at the roof. 'You said you saw something move…' She moved across the gravel, closer to the wall and peered upwards, and her expression became one of disbelief. 'Look, up there, in the corner.'
Severus looked and saw something in the darkened corner.
'C.C.T.V.,' she said, shaking her head. 'They've been watching the house through cameras.'
Severus reached for his wand, intending to blast the thing to smithereens.
'I don't think that's a good idea,' cautioned Granger quickly. 'I think it's best we don't give them any further cause to hound us, don't you?'
She was right; he hated it, but she was right. Frowning, he turned from the house and said not a word as they moved to get beyond the wards. They walked in silence, until they crossed the field. He could feel eyes on him again. Granger seemed to feel it too, as her head turned, as if to look back.
'Don't,' he warned sharply. He did not want to give them the satisfaction. He knew that were they to look back to the house, Oakshott would be standing there, watching them from a window.
They knew where he lived. They knew about him. Why? How? He'd never had dealings with the Muggle police force in any capacity before. They obviously knew about Granger, too. Hell, they seemed to know everything about the Wizarding world!
It took him a moment of two to get his irritation under control before he could Apparate them back to his sitting room. Once inside, his immediate thoughts were, his house—were they watching it? Were they watching him? He ripped off his scarf and flung his coat over the back of his chair. He needed a drink, but he knew, of course, that he didn't have any in the house. He'd told himself he'd had no need of it lately, for he knew that the slope was a slippery one. In his frame of mind, it was always possible he'd start drinking and never stop. But now—he felt now that he could cheerfully drain a bottle of Firewhisky and damn the consequences, he was so frustrated.
He flicked his wand and the fireplace jumped to life, startling the other person in the room. He looked at her briefly. She stood with her arms folded, looking uneasy. Severus sat down and pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes in thought.
'I'm sorry,' she said quietly, breaking into his reverie.
'For what?'
She sat down tentatively. 'For you becoming involved in this. I had no idea that this would happen.'
He snorted. He didn't blame her—what was the point? Granted, he would not have been in the situation but for her. But in many ways, he was glad of it. He did not like to think there were people spying on him without his knowledge, and now, at least, he could be prepared. He knew that things were not as clear-cut as before.
'How do they know about us?' she asked, a slight mark of worry in her voice. 'How do they know about magic? About Selwyn? About Aurors?'
Severus remained silent, his thoughts whirring back over every encounter with Selwyn he could remember.
'One thing's for sure,' she continued. 'They were not your run-of-the-mill police.'
He looked at her.
'Muggle police do not waltz about brandishing guns whenever they feel like it. And why are the London police involved? No, they must be part of something larger—the Muggle security service, perhaps.' She shrugged.
'Oakshott did say something about national security, didn't he?' Severus mused.
She nodded. 'Muggles have several offices that work to protect the security of citizens. I don't know very much about it, but it seems to me that certain people within the Muggle government must be aware of magic, hence… what we were just involved in.'
He could see where her train of thought was leading, and could only agree that it seemed the most logical conclusion. 'I think it fairly inevitable that certain Muggle officials are aware of magic, there has to be a certain amount of co-operation going on, but never on this scale.' He'd not considered that Muggles would be involved in problems that were not their own. But then…
'Still, it is inconceivable that the Muggle authorities did not realise there were big problems in the Wizarding World, especially when the Dark Lord focused much of his ire on Muggles. Who knows to what extent they were informed?'
'But what has Selwyn to do with this? Why should the Muggles be so preoccupied with catching him?'
He didn't have to think hard. Memories of meetings with the Dark Lord were never difficult to recall. Now, he could remember the Dark Lord's particular interest in Selwyn.
'The Dark Lord's plan was ultimately to subjugate Muggles. But they far outnumber us, and so he was always, to an extent, going to have to start off subtly.' He raised an eyebrow at her. 'By getting one of his Death Eater's to infiltrate the Muggle government, perhaps?'
She put a hand to her mouth. 'And, Selwyn…?'
'Selwyn is a clever man, Miss Granger. He was good at being the oily politician. Indeed, the Ministry were more than happy to allow him to inherit his father's seat on the Wizengamot, when, normally, such positions are not hereditary. I do not know for certain, but maybe Selwyn had already made a move into the Muggle government.'
'They certainly would not have taken kindly to that. Can you imagine the chaos that could have been caused? Do you think the Ministry has consulted with the Muggles over this, then?'
He nodded. 'What else can it be? How else do they know where I live? Who I am? The Ministry has informed them. Maybe we have it wrong about Selwyn. Maybe the Muggles just want to ensure that every Death Eater is accounted for and, maybe, the Ministry are more than happy to allow the Muggles to give it a go where they've failed. After all, they will take all the credit, as long as it is kept quiet.'
He looked into the fire, and the scars on his neck ached angrily. The Aurors had clearly flagged him up to the Muggles as one to watch, despite him not facing any charges. He hadn't heard a peep out of them for months, and now he knew why—they were getting Muggles to do their dirty work for them. Maybe he should have opened that letter from the Ministry, after all.
'What does this mean for us?' Granger asked, after a moment. 'I'd understand if you'd rather not continue. In fact, I might recommend it, actually.'
'Do you think, for one moment, that I give a damn about some interfering Muggles, Miss Granger?'
She blinked and looked at her hands uncomfortably. Did she think he was scared? Oh, the girl knew nothing.
'I don't want you to get into trouble,' she offered diplomatically.
He allowed himself a sneer. He would not get out now. He would not be cowed by that intolerable man. He had managed to retain some remnants of his pride over the past few months, after all.
'It's fine—I'd like nothing more than to wipe that smug expression off his face.' And being the first to find Selwyn's head on a platter would go some way towards that.
He noticed the corner of her mouth twitch, obviously pleased. She probably thought he was doing it out of compassion, well, she was allowed to be deluded if she wanted.
Next time, however, he would not be taking any chances. They would not be cornered by a pair of gun-wielding Muggles a second time. He was determined.
'Let us have a look at that painting, then, Miss Granger.'
To his surprise, she immediately blushed. 'Oh, yes, ah, I have it here in my…'
She pushed aside her scarf and unbuttoned the top buttons of her coat. 'It's um…'
'Good Lord, don't tell me that you've lost it!' He would not be responsible for his actions if she had managed something so decidedly moronic.
'No, it's, ah…' She was fiddling with her jumper now.
He only raised an eyebrow as she mumured 'Accio painting' down her top. With a blush, she plucked the small object out of the air and, clearing her throat, enlarged it back to its original size. Severus sat forward on the edge of his chair to get a better view. It was no particular masterpiece, not in his view, anyway. Still, it was pleasing enough to the eye, and so he considered that some talent must have gone into its construction. The main focus of the painting was a cottage nestled high upon a stretch of moors. To one side of the scene lay the sea, but there was no other distinguishing feature. The sky was painted a murky grey and leant a suitably bleak atmosphere to the landscape depicted.
Granger was kneeling on the floor, examining the painting as it stood propped against the coffee table. 'Doesn't tell us much, does it?' she observed wryly.
She was right. It told them bugger all.
'We should remove the frame. I'd expect a date, if nothing else.'
She set about spelling away the frame moving to look at the back of the painting, and Severus peered along the edge of the canvas, trying to find any hint as to the artist, or name of the painting, anything.
'Hang on.' He ran his fingers over the small intials he could see in the bottom right-hand corner. 'E. M.—wonder who that could be?' he asked dryly.
'Eliza Mortimer, you mean? I suppose that makes sense. If she painted it, no doubt that's why her brother keeps a copy hanging in his house.'
Severus nodded. 'So, we can suggest she painted this, but still, we don't know anything more.' He sat back in his chair, feeling a little thwarted.
'I confess, I have no idea either,' she commented, glancing at him.
It was useless, really. How could they find out about the painting without going to Mortimer?
'Our hypothesis that Selwyn may have known this place—had a connection to the place was flimsy at best, anyway, sir.'
Severus bit the inside of his cheek. Every time she called him 'sir' or 'professor' he was back behind his desk at Hogwarts, dealing with obnoxious students and more besides. Much more. Obnoxious students had been the least of his problems during his latter years at the school.
'I think we may have a hit a dead end with this one.' Her expression was one of reluctant defeat. Was she any more prepared to accept defeat than she had been previously? What would he prefer?
'It would appear that there is very little to go on,' he remarked, sighing quietly. He thought of that interfering Muggle detective and felt a pulse of irritation.
She got to her feet suddenly and pointed a hand at the painting. 'Nevertheless, I'm going to try and dig some more into the Mortimer family. Do you mind if I take this?'
Severus shook his head. It mattered not a jot to him. All of his ideas were exhausted. He'd thought maybe that they'd been on to something, but she was right, it was flimsy at best.
Shortly, she left. She mumbled something about getting in touch if she found anything, but his response was indifferent. He highly doubted she would find anything.
And now what was there for him? He couldn't help but realise that he'd done more in a few days than he had in six months, and yet, mere moments after she'd left, he could already feel the lethargy descend upon him. An hour later, perhaps, and it was like he'd never gone traipsing to Cumbria or Northumberland. He felt like he'd never left the house. He stared at the walls around him and wondered, not for the first time, whether he should have just upped sticks and left after the war. Left Spinner's End, England, Britain, and maybe that would have been easier than what he'd chosen.
But where? Where would he have gone? He could wander aimlessly around the continent for a while, but his thoughts would surely travel with him. Neither would his memories be far away, even without the tangible reminders facing him on a daily basis. And he'd never run away before. He'd always faced his demons. He'd holed himself up in Hogwarts for sixteen years, hadn't he? The castle was a veritable shelter for many of his demons.
It was a nice fantasy to indulge in, though—to imagine himself wandering, unfettered, unbothered, untouched… But the reality would never be like that.
He looked at the space Miss Granger had vacated. He knew deep down that he needed those days when he felt like he could pick himself back up again. Because the thought that he could not always carry on as he had was never far away, and he couldn't continue to languish, he would surely go mad, eventually. He wouldn't be surprised if the rot had already set in.
There was something that fought for his consideration, though. That moment when he'd heard the click of the gun—he'd never felt calmer. In six months of drudgery, he'd never felt more alive, and his mind, never such clarity of focus. He fancied he knew what it meant. But how could he manage in his everyday life? How could he recreate such an intoxicating sense of… purpose, as he had felt during those moments earlier that day? He wasn't sure he had the willpower or strength of mind to do it on his own. Or, even the faintest idea of where to begin, really.
Where could he, of all people, find a purpose?
AN: : )