The Match and the Spark
17. The Violence in Your Heart
Held captive, there was a great deal of time for Hermione to dwell upon her situation.
She realised it wasn't only fear that she currently felt. There was a good deal of embarrassment as well. It was only natural that her pride should spark at the fact that Selwyn had captured her while she'd been invisible.
She tried to shift herself into a more comfortable sitting position from where she was slumped against a wall. The Stunner he had used to seize her wand had begun to wear off, but her movements were inhibited by the bonds around her ankles and wrists. And they would remain so for the foreseeable future, she expected. The room was, as far as she could tell, more or less a cupboard it was so small. She could not see a hand in front of her; it was pitch black inside.
But she could hear Selwyn restlessly pacing about on the other side of the door. What he had in mind to do with her, she had not a clue. She rather thought the fact she was still breathing proved he did have something up his sleeve, however. Perhaps he would use her as a bargaining chip—her release for his freedom. On the other hand, that would mean revealing to the Ministry that he had faked his own death, and they would not take kindly to that. Maybe he had something more cunning in mind.
She didn't know where they were. She had been Stunned when he'd transported her and had woken up in this dark little box of a room. How anyone else would track her down then, she did not know. Harry would have soon realised something wasn't right when she did not return, if he hadn't acted on receipt of her note straight away. But then, what could he do? He might go to Selwyn's house in Cumbria, but he would not be able to determine what had happened. No one would.
She wished now, of course, that she had not gone alone. She wished she had had the patience to withstand Snape's scorn—to have remained unfazed by it. And yet, even then, things might have turned out the same regardless of whether she had been alone or not.
Still, she'd rather be anywhere than here. She'd rather be sitting in Snape's living room while he poured derision all over her, than sitting, bound and unsure, in the dark. Hell, she'd be grateful now to be able listen to a tirade about her 'never-ending righteousness.' She might even join in, if it meant getting out of here!
Wishful thinking was all well and good, of course. It wasn't going to get her anywhere, though.
She had been in the Selwyns' library when she'd been captured. She'd been looking through the writing bureau when, to her complete and utter horror, the fire in the grate had spontaneously lit and glowed a foreboding green. Terrified, she'd shut the drawer she'd been looking through and hurried to the far corner of the room. When Selwyn himself had unfurled from the fireplace, she had nearly cried out in her surprise.
He'd glanced around the room casually, and Hermione had had to fight to remember that she was invisible to him.
She'd watched him—her eyes wide, her breathing elevated, and her palms sweaty, hardly daring to believe that he was actually in front of her. Her mind had flooded instantaneously with possibilities. In hindsight she knew she should have acted straight away. A Binding spell; a Stunner; anything would have done.
Instead, and Hermione cursed herself as she thought back on it, she had become distracted—intrigued—by what he had been doing in the library. He'd walked purposefully towards the bookcase nearest her, and he had raised his wand to touch several spines, obviously in some sort of conscious pattern.
The bookcase had suddenly shimmered away before her eyes, and Selwyn had disappeared beyond it. Momentarily, he'd returned carrying a bundle of papers, which were swiftly thrown upon the fire. She'd watched intently as he returned to the hidden chamber. Was he getting rid of evidence? She found herself edging quietly towards the open bookcase. They might catch him, but he would hardly admit to everything willingly—they would need as much proof to his wrongdoings as possible.
She realised that it had been partly reckless for her to step into the chamber while he was occupied at the fireplace. But inside that dark, hugely dusty room, had been a veritable treasure trove. Stacked against one wall had been numerous frames, the canvases held within which were either slashed or scorched. Whatever, whomever, had resided within those paintings had long since been destroyed.
Papers were stacked on top of a chest, and before she knew was she was doing, she had swiped a small packet of letters and shoved them inside her robe. Just in case, she'd told herself.
Then, he was back, and she'd pressed herself tightly against the wall, holding her breath. When he had turned his back to her, she'd moved silently out of the room, intending that when next he should appear into the library, she would be ready and waiting for him.
It might have been easier to accept if the dust had caused her to sneeze and thus give herself away. How could she have helped that? But he was obviously subtler than that. He'd turned, papers in hand, and had done an almost double-take at the floor. She'd paused, suddenly afraid, and when she'd looked down, she had seen her own footprints visible on the dusty floorboards.
His moment of confusion had been enough for her to begin retreating further. But that was a mistake. His wand appeared and a spell had charged at her. She'd managed to dodge it, only to stumble into a nearby side table and send a vase crashing to the floor.
And that was the sum total of her sorry expedition to Cumbria. Next thing she was waking up here.
She could still see the glee on his face when her potion had worn off and he had discovered the identity of his captive.
'Oh, what a big fish I have caught!' he had said slyly, after which he had proceeded to obtain her wand. She had, in vain, tried to talk to him, but he had simply locked the door to her little cell and she was sure there was a Silencing spell on it. Hermione could shout all she wanted, but it wouldn't get her far.
She struggled against her bonds for the umpteenth time and groaned loudly with frustration when they moved not an inch. What on earth was she going to do? She struggled again and ceased when her shoulders began to protest painfully. For the longest time, she sat with her eyes closed tightly, focusing on calming herself and thinking rationally about her options. She did not like to think that there were none.
It was during this meditation that she realised she could sense something different. Her eyes flew open and she froze. She could hear something—there was talking coming from the next room. Two voices. Hermione strained her ears to hear better, but the sounds were too quiet and indistinct to decipher.
She heard Selwyn laugh a false, bitter laugh, and she tried to shuffle herself closer to where she thought the door was. She wanted to know who was with him. Would it be Oakshott?
Soon, there was the sound of a spell being cast and then a partially raised voice that she was sure recognised the tone of. For a split second, she was caught up in a bizarre imagining that Snape was in cahoots with Selwyn. She admonished herself immediately. He must have found a way here—had he come for her?
Selwyn's voice was becoming steadily louder and, Hermione could tell, steadily angrier. She could now make out some of what he was saying and none of it calmed her. It was taunts, and it was jibes, and she pushed hard gainst her bonds once more, worried at what might happen on the other side.
And then the talking stopped, and instead, all she could begin to hear was spells, crashes, bangs, growls and grunts. The sounds were all the more disturbing for her lack of picture to put them to. Hermione felt her breathing increase as she willed her bonds to come undone.
Silence descended once more, and she halted her struggles to hold her breath as she listened hard, trying to work out what was happening beyond. Her heart sank when she heard Selwyn's voice. And there was nothing—nothing sounding from the other man in the room.
She let out a whimper as she tried to free her wrists. She couldn't let Selwyn triumph over him! She couldn't remain a useless bystander while Selwyn triumphed over them both! Anger at her impotency filled her while her heart beat hard with worry. Her wrist moved a little and she cried out with determination as she tried to wrench one of her hands free. She cried out again with a mixture of frustration and anger.
Suddenly, the rope around her wrists was gone—disappeared. Panting, she brought her arms round to her lap and rubbed each wrist in turn, shocked. Had she just experienced a burst of uncontrolled magic, as she had done previously as a child? There was no time to ponder on it. She turned her attention to releasing her feet. She pulled off her shoes and socks tried to find enough give in the rope to pull her foot through. Using as much strength as she possessed, she pushed against the rope, bringing it down over her heel. It was tight and pressed hard around her foot painfully when it refused to budge further. She was almost prepared to give up, but found a well of resolve within herself. With a few almighty tugs, the rope shifted and her foot was released. She was free.
Stuffing her feet back into her shoes, she stood up, breathing fast. The door was locked and she shook the handle uselessly. Not quite free. Resting her forehead against the door, she sighed. After all that, she would not be able to get out anyway.
A loud shout of pain from the other side of the door caused her to jump, and she automatically rattled the handle again. She banged on the door, but knew they would not hear her.
There were different noises to be heard now—not the sound of spells being cast. It was the sound physical fighting, she knew it. The sound of punches being thrown only served her to feel more determined about getting out. The door, she could tell, was wooden but not very thick. She shoved herself against it, hoping to anyone who was listening that the hinges were rusty, or that the lock should prove fallible. The door only shook in response to her action.
'What's the matter, Snape?' shouted Selwyn suddenly, his punctuated by large gasps. 'You reduced me to fighting like a Muggle; can't you take it when I prove worthy?'
There was a sound of a fierce blow and Hermione threw herself against the door once more.
'For God's sake!' she shouted angrily. What was she going to do?
There was a loud crashing noise, followed closely by a set of shouts. Hermione didn't think about it, she raised her leg and kicked her foot in the direction of what she hoped was the lock. Ignoring her body's protestations, she repeated the movement, putting as much force into it as she possessed. The door shook loudly, and after one particularly fierce kick, she shoved herself against the wood once more.
It gave way beneath her and she burst through the door, looking wildly about. She stopped short when her eyes alighted on the sight before her. Selwyn was lying on the floor, with Snape kneeling next to him, and Hermione felt her mouth fall open at the sight of the gun in his hand. They both jerked their heads towards her at her entrance, but Selwyn reacted first. He raised himself and made to grab at Snape's arm, though Snape quickly subdued him, pressing the gun into his cheek.
'You won't kill me, Severus.' Selwyn taunted, staring up at him. 'But then, you did murder Dumbledore in cold blood. I was impressed, I must say. You always did show such potential.'
Hermione shrank from the apparently real disappointment in Selwyn's voice. Snape said nothing, but the look on his face was of such barely restrained fury, that she experienced a sharp pang of worry. A wand lay near her and she grabbed it. It wasn't hers, it was Snape's. She aimed it at the both of them.
'Sir,' she said quietly, keeping her breathing under control. 'Sir, what are you doing?'
Still he said nothing. He only stared at the man currently at his mercy.
Hermione swallowed uneasily and ventured a step closer to them. 'Sir?'
'Are you a coward, Snape?' whispered Selwyn snidely. 'A hypocrite and a coward?'
Hermione saw Snape's fingers around the gun twitch, and she gasped; afraid. 'Sir!' she cried, knowing that she had to intervene right away.
Snape looked at her then. His eyes were fierce as he took in his wand pointing in his direction. He wouldn't pull the trigger; she suddenly knew it instinctively.
'Sir, don't listen to him. It's finished; we have him.'
He blinked and looked again at Selwyn. An age seemed to pass, but as soon as Hermione saw the gun begin to move away from Selwyn, she shot multiple spells at their quarry. She hurried forward and knelt to ensure Selwyn really was immobile and bound. He was; the only movement was the blood that trickled down his face.
She was aware of Snape moving away and she turned her head to see that he was sitting on the floor, looking at something in the ether that wasn't there for her to see. Hermione returned to looking at Selwyn and realised she did not feel the triumph she had expected to feel. At that moment, she didn't know what she felt.
The gun sat on the floor and when she noticed it, Hermione longed to kick it away, out of sight. Snape sat nearby with his hands folded in his lap, looking oddly vulnerable in a way that unnerved her greatly. She tentatively moved to hold out his wand to him, but he did not seem to even register the action. She sat back on her heels and looked at the wand, before placing it between them on the floor.
'How, um… how did you know where we were?' she asked, her voice sounding hollow in the sudden oppressive stillness of the room.
He did not reply immediately, and when he did, it was not to answer her question. He blinked and moistened his lips. 'I might have done it, you know,' he said cryptically.
'Done what?' She knew what.
He looked at her finally. 'I might have killed him. Are you not wondering about what might have happened had you not appeared when you did?'
'Well…' The thought had crossed her mind, of course it had. Hermione made sure she looked him in the eye. 'Yes; I wondered and decided that you wouldn't have done it.'
He snorted dismissively. 'I wanted to.'
'You know, I heard some of what he was saying to you. No one can blame you for becoming angry. Selwyn is a dangerous man… And after all he has done, some might even say it was only what he would have deserved.' She wasn't sure it would have made it right, however.
His head shook minutely. 'I don't know… I thought I might like to be the one to enact judgement, for a change,' he mused. 'And yet, I don't think such power is meant for hands like mine.'
Hermione watched him, feeling helpless. His voice sounded so empty. She struggled for something to say—something useful. But there was nothing.
'What should I have done?' he questioned her suddenly. 'Tell me what you would have done in my place?'
Hermione was transported back to their argument of this morning. It seemed like months ago, but yes, it had only been this morning. She suddenly understood just what his point had been in saying those things he had to her. He had scorned her not because he thought her ridiculous, but because he felt she showed him to be wanting. With shame, she tried to recall if she had ever led him to believe that she thought him a lesser person than herself. She regretted it if she had, because it certainly wasn't what she thought.
He wasn't looking at her, and so she didn't bother to mask the rush of compassion that filled her.
She was not sure what she could say that he would listen to. There was something she wanted to do, however; as long as she had the courage for it. She inched closer to him, and he snapped his head at her, her movement obviously having startled him. Hermione froze. Courage or not, maybe she just shouldn't do it. She'd thought to try and embrace him might be to show that she… that she, what? Cared, maybe. But she could see now any action like that would be unwelcome from her, and maybe from anyone, in fact.
Instead, she laid a hand on his forearm, hoping that would be enough to suffice both of them. 'Sir,' she began softly. 'May I remind you that you did not kill Selwyn? You speak as though you had. I don't think you ever seriously considered pulling that trigger.'
After glancing fleetingly at her hand, he then stared at the floor, ignoring her. Hermione swallowed down her uncertainty and continued.
'I believe, earlier today, that I implied your standard of behaviour was less than what I considered typical of "any person." I think that is what I said. Well, I want you to know that I did not mean it. You think you are a bad person, but you are wrong. If we only talk about recently, you've done a great deal for me. Do you think I should have come this far on my own? And what about this morning? It was you who thought of Oakshott's well-being—not me. I admit it, I had no thought for him until you reminded me. I know you are angry at many things, but anger does not make you a bad person either…'
Hermione trailed off, looking downwards. She wished she could be more eloquent on the matter, but it was hard. She looked at her hand on his arm and then let her gaze move to his hand. The sight of his knuckles, red and bloodied, caused her to nearly reach out and grasp his hand in her own. As it was, she stopped herself just in time, but her hand hovered ineffectually above it.
She looked to see if he'd noticed, and to her embarrassment, he was watching her intently. She forgot her self-consciousness, though, when she realised she felt like they were sharing a moment of understanding, for the first time.
And then he touched her fingers, clasping them very briefly, before folding his arms together across his stomach.
Hermione curled her hand into a fist and brought it to rest on her thigh, her throat suddenly parched.
'I appreciate what you are saying, Miss Granger, but if you will forgive me for saying so, I believe it a matter more complex than perhaps you understand.'
It took her a moment to speak. 'You are probably right.' She wished it were not so.
Silence fell between them, and as much as Hermione felt she could sit in the quiet for hours, she knew they had much to do. 'Does anyone else know where we are?' Had he informed anyone of what had happened to her?
He looked at Selwyn and seemed to rouse himself from his abstracted air. 'I could not inform anyone about this as this location is guarded by a Secret-keeper, whom I believe is probably our friend there. We shall have to move him elsewhere before we send for the Aurors.'
Hermione nodded. 'I think we should go to Cumbria—to Selwyn's house and wait there. There are things there the Aurors should see.'
He looked mildly intrigued at her words, but evidently he was not feeling in the mood for an elaboration, for he asked for none. Hermione got to her feet and spotted her wand lying on the floor several feet away. She hurried over to it and picked it up. 'Did my wand work for him?' She hated the thought that Selwyn had been using it.
A low noise made her turn sharply, frightened for a moment that Selwyn had broken through her spells, but she saw that it had come from Snape. He was on his feet and a hand was pressed to the back of his head.
'What's wrong?' she asked in alarm.
He scowled darkly, removing his hand to rub his eyes and then touch a livid bruise on his cheekbone. He fixed her with an irritated look. 'Yes—your wand did work.'
'Sorry…' She did feel like it was partly her fault. 'You should sit down. Is your head badly hurt?'
'Just a… knock,' he muttered. 'How do you want to move him?'
'He has Floo powder, but I suspect Apparition will be the best.' Hermione levitated Selwyn into the air and directed him out through the door. Outside, she sucked in a lungful of fresh air with relief, liking the feel of the drizzle falling on her face. She heard Snape's footsteps behind her.
Beyond the wards, they Apparated to Cumbria. Selwyn floated behind them while they moved closer to the house. They reached the edge of the overgrown lawn, and Hermione conjured her Patronus to relay a message to Harry and the Aurors at the Ministry.
Task done, she turned to her companion. He looked pensive.
'Come, let us have a quiet five minutes before the hullabaloo begins.' She smiled encouragingly and sat down on the low wall that framed the garden.
He sat down next to her, and she thought he might have been grateful for it for his shoulders seemed to relax a fraction. It only made her worry more for any injuries he might have sustained that he was keeping quiet. Selwyn hung in the air before them, unmoving.
In her heart, she felt a calm that she had not felt in a long while at the prospect that they had procured the means for Ron's return to health. And yet, she had expected to feel ecstatic—euphoric, even. Her relief, she knew, was acute, but it was something she could not find within herself to express outwardly. Not at this moment, anyway. She knew why it was. It was because of the man next to her. Much was still unresolved for him, she realised, and she found she regretted immensely that it was so.
'I owe you a great deal, Professor Snape. I remember that I promised a favour to you before. Well, you should know it very much still stands. I hope you will remember it.'
She heard him sigh quietly. 'I want nothing from you, Miss Granger. You owe me nothing.'
'I think that I do, sir.'
He sighed again, but this time with irritation. 'Perhaps I could prevail upon you once more to desist in calling me by a title I no longer possess? You ignored it last time.'
Hermione blushed a little, but was rather surprised, nevertheless, that he had brought it up again. Maybe she had misjudged how much it bothered him. 'You never said what I should call you instead.'
'Ah yes, I suppose that without direction from me it would be a difficult one for you to call,' he replied dryly.
Hermione raised a hand to her cheeks, hoping to push away the redness from them. How silly it was that she found it so difficult to say his name out loud. Severus, she said in her mind.
'I think that me ceasing to call you 'sir' is rather poor recompense.'
He laced his fingers together and seemed preoccupied with them for a moment. 'I think… Well, you have done well here, Miss Granger.' He nodded towards Selwyn. 'You have a chance to begin again; I hope you use it wisely, better than I have, anyway. That will be enough for me.'
Hermione knew he was referring to Ron, and yes, he was right. Ron would be well, and they would all be together again, able to start their lives anew. And while she was struck that he should say such a thing to her, she was actually suddenly terrified.
'I'm afraid,' she blurted out, before she could stop herself.
She sensed, rather than saw, that he was looking at her. She forced herself to continue, believing that she needed to voice her feelings aloud.
'There was so much that was never said before Ron succumbed to the curse, that I… So much has happened since… I'm afraid that Ron might not be the same when he wakes up, and I'm afraid because I know that I am not.'
Her eyes burned as she absorbed the meaning of her own words. But they were true. So much had happened… She was not the same person anymore. What would it mean?
'It is understandable you should feel that way, but I am sure when things are finally settled, you will feel differently.'
Hermione nodded. 'Yes.' The vehemence in her nod she was sure was only to make up for her lack of clarity inside. She strove to change the subject. 'Well, we know what I have gained from this, but what about you… Severus? What is there for you?' She ignored the stumble over his name with a steely determination.
Had he gained anything? She hoped there was something.
'For me…? Well… For me there is a lot to think about.'
Hermione felt her chest tighten, recalling any number of things he had said to her in recent weeks and wondering whether his perspective on any had changed. But before she could say anything, cracks of Apparition pierced the air and they could see several figures appearing at the bottom of the garden.
'Miss Granger, there is, after all, one thing you can do for me. This story will likely cause a stir; I should prefer that my part in all this to be kept to a minimum in the inevitable reams of newsprint that will be devoted to it.'
It did not surprise her that he wished to limit the extent of his involvement. She'd learnt enough about him lately to know that he craved only peace and quiet. 'Very well; I will try my best.'
He got to his feet then, and Hermione dimly followed suit. Harry soon rushed up to her and was speaking a mile a minute She could barely make any sense of him. She watched the Aurors seize Selwyn, and there were mutterings and murmurings and raised voices, all clamouring to know just what had happened.
Kingsley approached her with a small, pleased smile, but Hermione peered beyond him to see Snape, Severus, being led away by an Auror she did not know. To the Ministry, no doubt, where she would be required to go, as well.
'Merlin, Hermione, speak to me! Are you all right?' Harry looked at her, his eyes wide behind his glasses and she nodded distractedly.
'Um… yes…' Her hands felt clammy and she unconsciously wiped them on her robe.
Harry took her arm, squeezing it encouragingly and leading her away.
She would be all right—she would.
She would.
AN: : )