The Quality of Mercy

Happy Halloween! This is my last update before I start in on National Novel Writing Month. Between working full-time and trying to get out 50,000 words in one month, I'm not sure I'll be able to write a new chapter for this story. (But you never know...I might be able to squeeze one out, although I'm not making any promises.) Thank you to everyone for all your lovely reviews - I'm so glad you're enjoying this story!

Ten: Investigations

It was quite late when Hermione returned home that evening. She hadn't been able to slip away as she had hoped; after it became clear that Ginny was a little overwhelmed by the crowd of well-wishing relatives, the group left her and Harry alone and went over to the Leaky Cauldron for a celebratory round of butterbeer and firewhisky. Citing her responsibilities at the Ministry, Hermione had been able to get away with drinking only one butterbeer and the tiniest splash of firewhisky, but even so it was long past eleven by the time she finally was able to escape and Disapparate to the safety of Rosedell cottage.

That safety proved to be spurious, however. No sooner had she popped into existence within the warm confines of her living room than a voice spoke to her from the darkness.

"You do keep quite irregular hours, don't you?"

Hermione jumped, then spluttered, "Lumos!"

The blue light from her wand revealed the dark shape of Severus Snape as he sat on her couch. Crookshanks lay at the far end, staring at the Potions master with suspicious eyes but obviously unwilling to give up his comfortable spot on the sofa.

"You might want to consider some anti-Apparition spells," Snape went on. He rose from the couch and gave a casual flick of his fingers; around the room candles glowed into life. "This place is quite unprotected."

Relief that it was only Severus allayed some of Hermione's shock at seeing a stranger in her home, but she still retorted, "As my family and friends actually have manners, I didn't see the need."

Her barb didn't seem to have any effect; he merely tilted his head the slightest fraction and replied, "How trusting of you."

Since she knew she would get no apologies from him for committing such a breach of wizarding-world propriety, Hermione crossed her arms and asked instead, "What do you want?"

"Such a tone, after our tender exchange earlier?"

He was one to be rebuking her for such a thing, considering his own voice dripped with the same mockery she had heard a thousand times in Potions class. Had it really only been earlier that day when he had held her in his arms and kissed her in way which almost made her forget Ron? Now they might as well be student and teacher once more.

Part of her wished she really was still a schoolgirl - at least then she wouldn't care that a reply of "you started it" would be immature in the extreme. But just because he had fallen into old patterns didn't mean she should do the same. Summoning a forbearance she certainly didn't feel, Hermione replied, "I would think I might be forgiven a little testiness, considering I just Apparated into my house to find a strange man sitting in my living room."

Severus lifted his shoulders. "My Polyjuice supply has run low, I fear. I thought perhaps this was a better way of seeing you undetected."

Somehow she wasn't quite sure she believed him, but now was probably not the time to accuse him of falsehoods. "So why are you here?"

"Where were you?"

At the question she threw him a half-amused glance. "What, getting jealous already?"

His lip curled. "Hardly."

The reply stung, as no doubt he had meant it to. No matter what had passed between them a few hours earlier, it seemed clear Severus did not wish for her to become overly familiar - at least not yet. "I was at St. Mungo's. Ginny and Harry just had their first child."

Was it her imagination, or did something about him relax at her words? It was difficult to tell, for almost at once the usual scornful glint entered his eyes. "Just what this world needs - another Potter."

"It's impossible for you to simply be happy for someone, isn't it?" Hermione snapped. "That's all Harry ever wanted - a family of his own. Perhaps you can't understand, seeing as you weren't orphaned the way he was."

"I often wished I were," responded Severus, and for a second the mocking note left his voice, replacing by a sort of bone-deep bitterness. Then his mouth tightened once more. "Be sure to pass on my felicitations to the happy parents."

She knew he wasn't serious, so she merely lifted an eyebrow of her own and waited.

"You accused me of jealousy earlier," he said, and this time his tone was quiet and cold. "That is not what motivated my visit. I was worried about you."

He could not have surprised her more if he had said he had come here to propose marriage. Severus Snape was worried about her? She felt simultaneously warmed and annoyed. Warmed, because if he was concerned for her well-being, then he must have some sort of feelings for her beyond the merely physical, but she found herself annoyed as well, since his presence here seemed to indicate he didn't think she could take care of herself. Conflicting emotions momentarily tied her tongue, but after an awkward pause she said, "There's no need for worry. I think I've proven I can take care of myself."

"Indeed," said Severus, and it was obvious he had yet to be convinced of that fact. Since he had neatly caught her on his own property using a simple anti-Apparition charm, she supposed his opinion had some basis in truth.

"Very well," she said. "Why were you worried?"

"This Malfoy investigation," he replied. "I didn't want you to go off and do something foolish. As I told you before, there could be dark magic at the estate of which even I know nothing." As he spoke he stepped closer to her, and, weary as she was, Hermione couldn't help feeling a delicious tingle of anticipation at his nearness. Was he going to reach out to touch her?

But if that had been his intention, something stopped him short. He merely stood there, gazing down at her, and she wondered whether she should take a step of her own and close up the final distance that separated them. Somehow she couldn't quite find the courage to do so; his manner now was cool and formal, distinctly off-putting. Once again she found herself wondering if it had all been a bizarre dream born of her recent obsession with the Potions master.

"I assure you, I wasn't going to do anything foolish," she said, trying to keep her tone as coldly polite as his. "For one thing, I wasn't even going to approach Malfoy Manor. I though I should start by talking to some of the Muggles in the area and getting their side of things. Perhaps some in the wizarding world believe being Muggle-born is a disadvantage, but in this situation I believe it's actually to my benefit." Hermione uttered these last words with a somewhat defiant air, as if she expected Severus to contradict her or make some sort of deprecating remark about non-magical folk, but he only listened and then gave a small nod.

"Perhaps that could be useful," he said. "I assume the report you were given did not enumerate their injuries?"

Hermione shook her head. "No, it was really quite vague. But then, from what I could tell, many of the files I was given were lacking in detail. After all, they're just a jumping-off point - it's up to me as investigator to flesh them out and see if magic really has been improperly used."

Severus looked pensive, a pronounced line showing between his brows. "Would you have need of assistance in your task?"

At once Hermione opened her mouth to protest she could do very well on her own, but then she paused and gave him an unbelieving look. "You don't - that is, are you offering to help me?"

"I will admit to some small curiosity regarding the matter."

Which had to be his oblique way of saying he did want to help her. Whether his request came from a true desire to offer assistance or merely because deep down he believed she couldn't manage the investigation on her own, Hermione couldn't be sure. The thought of working with him, though, sharing theories and brainstorming together, greatly appealed to her. His experience with dark magic of course far outstripped her own, and he would have insights into a side of the wizarding world she had never known. Perhaps this was her chance to bring him back to something resembling a normal life, to help reintegrate him into magical society.

"I think that would be splendid," Hermione said. "I'm sure we could get to the heart of the matter in no time."

He smiled thinly. "As to that, I wouldn't be so confident. But stranger things have happened, I suppose."

Despite his words, she thought surely he wouldn't have offered to help if he didn't think they had some chance of success. A sudden notion struck her, and she gave him a sidelong glance. "I assume you're going to have some sort of disguise? It wouldn't do for someone of your description to be seen in the vicinity of Malfoy Manor, after all."

"I believe a judicious use of Polyjuice Potion would be sufficient."

"The same Polyjuice Potion you said was in short supply?" Hermione inquired, her tone arch.

"The very same," he replied, and at last some of the warmth she longed for entered his eyes. "I came to the realization that I didn't want to do this while wearing another man's face." And he reached for her at last, drawing her close, as she lifted her face to his and felt the miracle of his mouth on hers once more.

Better that than not at all, Hermione thought, but she decided not to argue the point, especially since any protests would have broken the kiss. Much better to continue pressing against him, to hold him close and savor the warmth of his lips and the strength of his arms. He was an inch or so taller than Ron, and so she had to strain the slightest bit to reach Severus' mouth, but the difference in their heights only served to strengthen the delicious novelty of his embrace.

At length he released her with more gentleness than she might have expected. He pushed back the untidy curls from her face and said, "Tomorrow, then? I would suggest meeting at the Market Cross in Malmesbury, which is the town closest to to Malfoy Manor."

"Ten o'clock?" she asked. That would give her time to get into the office and inform Miles Cornish of her plans to be out in the field for the rest of the day.

"I'll find you," he said, and again he gave her another one of those tight-lipped smiles. "I doubt that you will recognize me."

Upon delivering this pronouncement, he stepped away from her and Disapparated. The crack! of his departure sounded particularly loud, but it was most likely because of his extreme proximity. Usually people allowed a little more distance than that before casting the spell.

Even though he was gone, Severus' presence still seemed to fill the room. Hermione stood there for a moment, staring at the space he had just occupied, while Crookshanks looked up at her and let out an irritated meow. His opinion of the Potions master was all too clear.

"Well, no one asked you, Crookshanks," Hermione remarked, but she went over to her cat and scratched him behind the ears anyway to show she hadn't surrendered all her affections to someone else. He submitted to her ministrations with an air of irritated tolerance, but Hermione found herself abstracted, her thoughts already straying to Severus Snape. Was it possible she would get to spend a whole day with him? It still didn't seem quite real that he had volunteered to assist her with her investigations, but she wasn't about to ruin the situation by questioning it any further. Did it really matter whether it was concern for her, barely masked curiosity, or simple boredom with his solitary existence, as long as she was able to spend all that time in his company?

The answer - for the moment, anyway - seemed to be a resounding "no," so Hermione tried to push any lingering doubts aside and settle down for some much-needed sleep. She had the feeling that tomorrow was going to be a very long day.

***

At five minutes to ten, Hermione Apparated in a narrow lane situated between two pubs, a few hundred yards from the Market Cross in Malmesbury. She'd never been there before, but she'd made a side trip after leaving the Ministry to check out some guide books at a Muggle bookstore, and those had supplied clear enough photographs that she knew she'd be able to travel there safely enough.

The day was brisk; she'd put on a heavy brown wool coat over her neat tweed trousers and fitted cashmere cardigan. Her closet held a few Muggle staples such as these, clothing she kept aside for visits with her parents or the times she didn't feel like bothering with robes. Elegant as wizarding garb could be, it wasn't always the most practical thing in the world.

At that hour of the morning, the streets were lightly populated. Hermione spotted a few people going in and out of the shops on High Street, and she saw several cars parked in front of the various businesses located there - accountants, banks, veterinary offices. But overall it was very quiet and serene, a far cry from the endless bustle of London.

The Market Cross was impossible to miss; an octagonal building of dark-gray stone, it sat at the top of High Street, incongruous in its fifteenth-century splendor. Hermione crossed the street and took shelter inside, where several stone benches had been provided for that purpose. After she sat down, she scanned the market square and the streets which fed into it, but she saw no one headed in her direction. Surely Severus Snape hadn't intended to Apparate directly into the Market Cross?

She turned from her inspection of High Street to see a tall brown-haired man staring down at her with a quizzical expression on his face. From his camel's-hair coat to the shining brown oxfords on his feet, he was the height of ordinary - if she had passed him on the street in London, Hermione wouldn't have given him a second glance.

"Miss Granger," he said. His accent sounded very smooth, almost BBC in its clipped precision

"Severus?" she responded. Of course it had to be he - how else would this complete stranger have known who she was? But still she felt a little foolish addressing an unknown man with Severus Snape's name.

"Of course," he replied.

"So who is it this time?" Hermione inquired. "Don't tell me you got the sample for this disguise from anywhere near Yorkshire."

"As a matter of fact, I did," Severus said, with another one of his thin smiles. Of course, it looked rather different on this stranger's face. "He was a solicitor on holiday, come to see the Dales. He went to the barber for a trim - "

"--and the rest is history," Hermione finished. "So how many different potions do you have cooked up in case of an emergency?"

"Enough." Somewhere a church bell tolled the hour, and he added in brisk tones, "The Malfoy estate is about a mile outside of town. Shall we?"

Glad she had worn sturdy flat boots, Hermione rose and followed him out of the Market Cross, down Oxford Street to the western edge of town. Here the streets sloped downward toward the River Avon, which today looked like a ribbon of melted pewter between its muddy banks. In this region they seemed to have gotten more rain than snow, although Hermione spied a few slushy piles to the side of the road or mounded up against fence posts.

As they left the main road and headed off down a small side lane, barely more than a track through the fields, she lost her footing and stumbled in the gravel. Immediately she felt Severus' gloved hand clasp hers, steadying her as she crossed the troublesome patch of ground. No matter that the man whose fingers continued to grip hers was in appearance a stranger - Hermione only cared that it was still Severus underneath, Severus who had reached out to offer her assistance. She flashed him a quick smile in thanks and followed him along the track. When it branched once again, he paused, and let go of her. Although she missed the pressure of his hand around her fingers, she supposed she should be glad he had continued to hold onto her that long.

The trail to their left was small and overgrown, hardly noticeable, while the one on the right was much larger, big enough to allow vehicular traffic if the drivers were courteous about allowing one another to pass. In fact, the soft ground showed the unmistakable patterns of tire treads.

"If we continued that way -- " and Severus pointed down the narrow trail on the left, which wandered away to the southeast - "we would come to the gates of Malfoy Manor. As we are not Muggles, the charms in place should not work against us. However, I see little to be gained from going in that direction. I would suggest the right fork - there are several small farms and cottages in that area, if I recall correctly."

Once again Hermione felt a rush of gratitude. If Severus hadn't offered to assist her, it would have taken much longer to discover where best to direct her investigation. Although she had brought with her the list of supposed victims, she did not know the area at all, and probably would have wasted a good deal of time wandering around in an attempt to locate the people she needed to interview.

She risked a quick glance up at Severus. He continued to stare down the trail, his forehead creased in thought, his attention apparently not on her at all. The solicitor whose form he had borrowed was pleasant-looking in an unremarkable sort of way. Hermione could tell just from gazing at him that he was probably not the type to spend much time frowning, as Severus' scowl seemed to be creating new lines in his face.

"You've got plenty of Polyjuice with you?" she asked then. The last thing they needed was for him to regain his true appearance while they were in the middle of an interview.

In answer he tapped the breast pocket of his overcoat; Hermione thought she heard a faint metallic clank. "Enough to last all day, if necessary."

Of course he wouldn't make such an error in judgment - even now she wondered if he had actually wanted the potion to wear off that first time he had come to see her at Rosedell cottage. Or perhaps he hadn't thought it worth wasting more of the precious draught after he had gotten inside. After all, he wasn't trying to fool her, but merely keep outsiders from guessing who had come to visit the cottage.

"Good," she replied. "I thought we could say we were affiliated with the Rural Watch - that way people are less likely to wonder why we aren't in uniform. Since we're investigating 'accidents,' I don't want to be too conspicuous."

"Of course," Severus said, his tone dry. "Although if enough of the people you interview compare notes, you might find yourself arousing interest whether you like it or not."

"I understand that," Hermione said, feeling somewhat irked that he had immediately found such a weakness in her plan. "But I won't discover anything if I don't ask, will I?"

His only reply was a slightly mocking smile. To cover her irritation, Hermione flipped open the notebook she carried. Inside were the pertinent elements of the Malfoy file, including a list of the Muggles who had been treated at local hospitals for their injuries. Since most of the victims lived in isolated cottages and farms, tracking all of them down would take some time.

"Here," she said, noting the dilapidated mailbox that had sprung up on her right, placed next to a narrow lane. "Primrose Farm. That's the address of two of the victims - a brother and sister. Let's take a look."

"By all means," Severus replied, and strode past her toward the white outline of some sort of building, barely noticeable through the trees surrounding it. She hurried after him, glad once again she had put on her sturdy ankle boots. The recent mix of snow and rain had turned everything into a miserable, muddy slush, and the footing was treacherous.

The farmhouse turned out to be a two-story whitewashed structure, probably built in the early years of the nineteenth century. In addition to the house itself, the farm possessed a largish barn that appeared to be in better repair than the living quarters, a row of hen houses, and a ramshackle structure Hermione surmised might contain beehives. An ancient Range Rover was parked in front of the barn.

On a warm summer day, with the fields green and flowers blooming in the beds that bordered the walk, the property probably had a certain rustic charm. Today, with the sky an iron gray and mud splashed against the home's faded whitewash, it just looked dreary and somehow forlorn, as if it had been forgotten by its neighbors.

Despite herself, Hermione shivered. Severus glanced over his shoulder at her. "Cold feet?"

"Yes, my feet are cold," she said, even though she knew he wasn't talking about her actual physical well-being. "And so is the rest of me. So we'd might as well knock."

Without replying, he turned back to the front door and gave it two businesslike raps. A lengthy pause followed, one so protracted that Hermione wondered whether anyone was home, Range Rover or no. At last the door opened a spare two inches, and a narrow, suspicious face appeared in the gap. "Wotcher want?"

Not a very promising beginning, Hermione thought, but she summoned a cheery smile and said, "Good day, Mr. Morris. My name is Harriet Grady, and this is - er - Steven Simms. We're with the Rural Watch." Belatedly she realized she should have come up with an alias for Severus before this, but her hesitation didn't seem to have elicited much of a response. The pale blue eyes of the man watching her didn't blink, so she continued, "We'd like to ask you a few questions about your accident."

"Already gave a report at hospital," he replied, his tone heavily weighted with suspicion.

"Yes, I know, but there are just a few more things we need to discuss - and we'd like to speak with your sister as well." When Hermione had first seen the list of victims, she had mistakenly assumed the brother and sister in question were much younger and still lived with their parents, but she realized now that they were adults who must live here alone. Certainly the farmstead didn't have the air of a place where children dwelled.

Mr. Morris continued to stare at her for a moment, and then he gave a shrug and opened the door. "Haven't got much time. I was just about to go into town."

"This won't take very long," Hermione reassured him, then stepped inside, followed by a watchful Severus.

The interior of the farmhouse was as shabby as the exterior - mismatched furniture, scarred oak floors underfoot, faded chintz curtains at the windows. It smelled of damp and the ghosts of grease fires past. They went down a narrow corridor that emerged into a smallish parlor. In there it was marginally more cheerful - at least the radiator under the window let out some much-needed heat, and the furnishings weren't quite as worn. In a shabby velvet-covered armchair near the radiator sat a middle-aged woman who had to be Miss Morrison. Her left arm was covered in a cast and rested in a sling. She stared out the window at the bleak landscape and gave no indication that she'd noticed the strangers who had just entered her sitting room.

"Been like that ever since," remarked her brother, who did not bother to offer Hermione or Severus a seat. "Won't talk. At first it was sort of a blessing - she was one for talking, was Clara - but I'm starting to miss her chatter."

"Ever since?" Hermione asked.

"The accident," Mr. Morrison replied. "Not that it was."

"Not an accident?" Severus inquired, speaking for the first time.

Morrison gave him a wary look. No doubt the polished exterior of Severus' disguise hadn't won any points with the taciturn farmer. "That's what I said."

Hermione made sure she sounded respectfully polite before asking, "What makes you think so?"

The man shrugged. "Been over this before."

Resisting the impulse to grind her teeth, Hermione flipped open her notebook and took a quick look at the Malfoy file. The Morrisons were listed as victims who had been treated for their injuries and released from hospital, but further details were suspiciously lacking. "If you don't mind, Mr. Morrison - we'd really like to know."

"Said it was all in our heads. As if something in our heads could dislocate my shoulder or break Clara's arm."

"Of course," Hermione said, in placating tones. "I assure you, Mr. Morrison, we will take your input very seriously and will do everything we can to get to the bottom of the matter."

"Indeed," Severus put in, "without eyewitness accounts such as yours, we cannot possibly bring the culprits to justice."

Another one of those suspicious glances. "I doubt you will, no matter what I tell you."

"What makes you say that?" asked Hermione. While she hadn't thought conducting these interviews would be all smooth flying, she also didn't think it would be as difficult as getting Ron to write an astronomy paper on his own.

Morrison lifted his shoulders and made a grimace that might have been his attempt at at a wry smile. "Because I never seen someone send an invisible monster to prison before...."