Day 2/3

The Waiting Game – Chapter Five

A/N: I'm sorry for the huge delay in posting this chapter.

For all those of you who watch CSI:Vegas, you'll note that I owe a great debt to Invisible Evidence (4:09) in this chapter. This entire case was inspired by that episode and what could have been.

Thank you, once again, to Talesofsnape for all of her help and advice.

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Day 2 – 11:04pm – Snape's Office

Severus Snape sat at the table in his office shaking his head. The greasy substance on the victim's arm had been identified. It was hair cream. The kind used for styling. Very common too; one of the Sleakeazy brands. They'd searched the house, but had come up trumps. It appeared that Eleanor preferred regular styling mouse, of the Muggle variety. The cream was the killers, most likely transferred during the crime itself, but it brought them no further with the identification. A six-foot plus male with blonde hair, possibly sleeked back, was no help. There were thousands of wizards out there who matched that description. And only one of them was the killer.

Sighing in frustration, Severus rubbed his hands across his face. His eyes stung, the lack of sleep once again getting to him. He'd had to adjust the lights in the office to deal with it, the new, lower-light threatening to send him off into a sleepless daze. But, even with fresh eyes, he wasn't sure he'd have much luck.

For the past hour, he'd spent his time checking and rechecking the evidence. They just had to have missed something. It was impossible that the killer could leave behind this much evidence yet still remain unidentifiable. True, they had no fingerprints, but they had DNA, and that was the body's fingerprint. Even wizarding DNA followed the laws of biology. Magic could not alter a cell's make-up; the killer could have been polyjuiced, transfigured, charmed and subject to a whole host of other clever disguises, but the DNA would remain unaffected. Always phosphate, pentose sugar, base. It never differed. Draco had run the DNA through the National Database yesterday whilst he and Hermione had been busy with the players' autorads, but nothing concrete had come up. Only a series of partial pure-blood matches, as was to be expected. A few alleles in common here and there.

Severus sighed, gently fingering the handle of his coffee cup. The killer was clever. No DNA on record meant that they had to rely on other, less accurate methods of identification. And with no witnesses... He supposed he should be thankful that the Lab had come up clean. Their record was spotless and he wanted to keep it that way. The thought of a killer within their ranks chilled him to the bone.

Everything for this murder was wrong. It didn't add up. They had unidentified DNA, a bloody knife that wasn't the murder weapon, a set of Muggle tyre tracks, unaccounted for blood spatter, a dead body filled with anti-coagulants, and, perhaps the most puzzling of all, a single broken wineglass. That was before you even added in the missing leopard, if, indeed, the mascot was connected to this case. The external blood test had yet to yield results in favour of that theory. All in all, it was giving Severus a headache.

He was busily examining the remnants of the shattered wineglass, magnifying glass in hand, when he heard a quiet knock. Scowling at the thought of being interrupted, he set the evidence down on the table and flicked his gaze over to the door.

"Enter," he said, irritated.

His expression changed as he saw Hermione open the door and peep inside his office. She didn't come fully inside, choosing to hover in the corridor. Her whole posture spoke of barely contained energy; the way she shuffled on her feet, the way she kept glancing back to the door of her lab. Something was up.

"Severus, I think I've found something," she said, twisting her fingers in a nervous gesture. Whatever it was, it was obviously important.

Severus got to his feet, swaying a little as his knees, stiff from sitting, threatened to give way. He gripped the table, his knuckles white, steadying himself before he moved towards her. Hermione looked at him with concern, but he waved her away. He hadn't slept enough. That was it.

"What have you got?" he asked, striding out of his office and locking the door behind him. His face, unflatteringly sallow in the fluorescent lighting of the corridor, showed his curiosity. It could be the break they were looking for. Severus knew from experience that even the smallest of things could catch out a killer.

Hermione smiled at him, though her eyes still held a note of concern. She looked as though she was about to reach out to him, to take his arm, but she didn't. Instead, she thought the better of it and stuffed her hands deep into the pockets of her pinstripe trousers. "Follow me," she said, leading him off into her lab.

----

The first thing Severus noticed when he entered Hermione's lab was the mess. Stacks and stacks of books were piled upon every available surface. Books on anthropology, psychology, blood spatter, anything you could imagine. They were all there somewhere, just waiting for their owner to pick them up and find the answer. Amongst the books lay all sorts of odds and ends. In fact, Severus was sure he could see a human skull amongst the vast collection of literature. It seemed so odd that this, of all the labs, would belong to Hermione Granger. She was the most organised woman he knew. Surely it was some sort of crime for a woman like herself to live in such disorder?

Picking up a clipboard from one of the piles, Hermione made her way over to the other side of the lab.

"I've been looking at those sheets," she said, flipping through the charts as she walked. "I've tried to replicate the splatter found, but so far I've had no luck. Well, until this morning, that is." She sent him a shy smile before continuing. "I was getting ready for bed when it came to me. Anyway, in lieu of my discovery, I ran up a second set of sheets with identical spatter pattern using blue ink."

She pointed to a large white sheet draped over the top of a table. The blue marks on the sheet were identical to the original, which hung in the corner, and positioned on the make-shift bed as they had found them. Curious, Severus wandered closer, taking in every detail, still trying to figure out what she'd seen. To him, the sheets looked just as they did at the crime scene: odd.

"I want to replicate the scene, but it needs two, and it's Draco's day off," she said. Severus could see the slightest hint of a blush creeping across her cheeks. He felt his heart sink to the floor. Clearly, something had gone on between them; Draco hadn't kept his promise.

"Couldn't you have found someone else," he snapped, his tone cold. He could see the hurt in her eyes, but he forced himself not to react. "I was busy."

"I'm sorry," she said, clearly not. "I'll bear that in mind for next time."

Severus kept his eyes firmly fixed on the sheet, afraid to look at her. He bent down, brushing the top layer with his fingers. It was fine and silky. The sheets must have been her own. The lab couldn't afford something like this. At that moment he was struck with something akin to guilt. She had spent all this time, all this money, on solving the case, and he had snapped at her. He had let his own feelings get in the way once again.

"Tell me your theory," he said, avoiding her gaze.

"I'd rather act it out, if it's much the same to you. That's why I asked you to come here. I could have easily explained it in the office." She dropped her head, staring at her feet. "Besides, I'm not entirely sure this will work. It is, as you said, just a theory."

Sensing the self-depreciating tone her voice had taken, Severus forced himself to look at her. "Everything begins in theory." He placed a hand on the top of her arm. Certain that this would only lead to trouble, Severus sighed, "What do you want me to do?"

Hermione looked up, her face unusually solemn. She flicked her hair back out of her eyes, the brown curls tumbling over her shoulder. Her eyes closed for a fraction of a second before opening and looking straight into his.

"Tie me down."

Severus' breath caught, the words stopping his heart momentarily. They sounded just like they did in his dreams, in those lonely hours between morning and night. He placed both his hands on her shoulders, steadying himself. Schooling his face into a mask of courteous indifference, he counted backwards from ten, calming his racing heart. It wouldn't do to let his feelings show through. He must be professional. He was her boss.

"How?"

"So that my waist touches the end of the bed. I need to be about half way up for this to work." She gave him a shy smile. "My wrists about midway."

"Bend over," he whispered, letting his hands trail down her arms as she stepped away and turned towards the bed.

Unable to tear his eyes away, he watched as she leant over the edge of the bed, the gentle curve of her arse pressed tightly against the fabric of her trousers. His fingers itched with the urge to run them across her backside and up her spine. To touch the soft skin of her shoulders and her neck. She was beautiful, all legs and hips. A goddess sent to tempt him.

Clamping down on the urge, he walked over to her side, crouching down at the point where her wrist met the edge of the bed. She'd spread her arms wide, waiting to be tied. He reached beneath the sheet, searching for the velvety fabric he needed. Moments later, his hands clasped around the long strip tied to the leg of the table. He brought it out, encircling her wrist in a loose slip-knot, the ends positioned neatly so she could pull herself free if needs be. He was careful not to touch her bare skin as he tied.

He did the same to her other wrist, feeling the heat of her gaze on him. He avoided it, afraid she would see his desire in his eyes. When he was done, he rose, moving out of her line of sight.

"The killer ties down Eleanor," she said, shifting her stance a little wider to cope with the strain now placed on her back. "She doesn't struggle, she knows the killer. Or is at least comfortable enough to turn her back on him."

"The killer takes her from behind?" Severus asked, his voice low. "It would account for the bruises on her hips and thighs. The bottom of her bed was solid wood. With the anti-coagulants in her system, she'd bruise easily. And from what Luna said, he wasn't gentle with her."

"Exactly." Hermione turned her head, raising it from the bed. Her eyes met his, and for a moment they both forgot where they were. Who they were.

Severus moved behind her, placing his hands on her hips. He flexed his fingers lightly, feeling the gentle curve of the edges of her stomach through the fabric of her shirt and trousers. He had to will himself not to move any closer, not to press himself against her.

"The killer then moves his hands up to her shoulders. He bruises them too."

Severus followed the killer's movements, concentrating not on her words, but on the feel of her body. Sliding his palms up from her hips, he mentally catalogued the dip of her waist, the lightly covered bones of her ribcage. He watched as she arched her back into his touch, the muscles in her shoulders contracting and drawing the blades back as his hands smoothed over them. The sound of a sharply drawn breath was enough to tell him he wasn't the only one affected. He leant forward, feeling the heat of her body across his chest.

"He grips her hair, pulling her head back to expose her neck," Hermione whispered, shivering slightly as she felt Severus wind his fingers in her curls.

"Then he draws the knife," completed Severus, making a swiping motion across her throat with the tip of his finger.

"The blood spatter arcs higher due to the angle of her head. When he drops her, it pools. And voila. We have our pattern."

"And the hair cream transferred when he collapses beside her." Severus leant down, his head falling beside hers in an approximation of the killer's move. He tucked a loose curl behind her ear, his touch lingering on her cheek. Hermione's eyes closed a fraction, her pupils heavily dilated. He flicked his gaze down to her lips, feeling the heat of her breath upon his own. She was so close.

Too close. Only then did he realise he was pressing against her, his hips flush against her backside. She could feel everything. And the realisation stung.

Severus leapt away, his cheeks burning. Without pausing to look back, he swept out of the lab.

---

Day 3 – 01:17am – Welcome Break, M6

Severus slammed down his cup of coffee with ill grace, flushing under the looks of barely concealed disgust from the other customers. He'd made an utter fool of himself with Hermione, acting like that. And there was no way he could talk his way out of this one. She'd felt everything. His reaction to her, their nearness had been unmissable. She knew. She had to know. It was like he was in school all over again; only it was infinitely more embarrassing, as sex was a very real factor rather than a potential one.

There was no way on God's green earth that she would even consider looking at a man like him in more than a platonic manner. He was her supervisor, her one-time teacher, and if that wasn't enough to contend with, it wasn't as if he was devilishly handsome either. He was average. Average with a very large nose, which wasn't a euphemism. In other words, not a woman's wildest dream.

He sighed gently, wondering what he was going to do. He couldn't face her again. Not today. But there was no way he could avoid her save pulling a sicky, which wasn't an option. Some things were more important that his dignity, and catching a killer was one of them.

No, he was simply going to shut himself away in his office when he got back and tell himself that he wasn't hiding. Draco could bloody well have her. Anything to avoid the humiliation that would surely follow were he to try again. He was such a fool. A fool who couldn't control his emotions.

Cracking his knuckles, he opened the plastic packaging of his sandwich. A spot of lunch first, and then it was back to business as usual. He took a bite, closing his eyes to will away the nausea. It was a nice enough sandwich, but he found himself unable to appreciate it. Somehow, he'd lost his appetite.

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Day 3 – 03:57am – The House of Nott

Severus stepped from the Toyota, his black-booted feet crunching heavily upon the gravelled driveway. A soft breeze blew, brushing against his skin almost as though it were caressing him. The night was once again exceptionally warm, and he left his jacket on the front seat, walking up to the house in his shirtsleeves. It was dreadfully bad-mannered, he knew, but in this heat he'd collapse with heatstroke were he to preserve formality. Cooling spells had their limits.

The house itself was impressive. Dating back from the mid-1700s, it stood like a sentinel guarding the wild and unkempt lawns. Whilst not as grand as Malfoy manor, it most certainly had its charm. Even lit by the red and blue lights of the squad cars, it managed to hold a regal air.

Severus dragged a hand through his hair, traipsing up the large stone steps to the door. He placed a hand upon the golden knocker, pushing it gently. The door creaked open, but before he could walk through, he found himself face to face with a haggard-looking Auror. Thick grey stubble coated his jaw, covering skin flushed an ugly shade of red. The man had a rumpled, just-crawled-out-of-bed look about him, stains covering his crinkled robes. Dark blue eyes stared at him from beneath bushy eyebrows, watching him expectantly.

Severus suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. From the way he was treated, anyone would think he was a nobody, not a decorated war hero.

"I've come to talk to Ellis Nott," Severus said, holding up his badge as a form of identification.

The Auror's thick eyebrows rose, the tired cogs of his mind clicking into place as he managed to match the face with the name.

"Snape," he said, gesturing for him to move inside with a chubby-fingered hand. "You'll have a job."

Severus walked inside, about to question the Aurors rather ambiguous statement, when the answer hit him square in the face. The unmistakable stench of decomposition. His stomach clenched as he suppressed the urge to gag. It wasn't the first time he'd come across something like this – his work brought him bodies in all stages of decomposition – but he could count on one hand the times he'd experienced something as potent as this. And it was only going to get worse as he got closer.

Fishing a small jar from his trouser pocket, he dabbed the gel inside just above his top lip. Vicks. The menthol would block out most of the smell, making it at least bearable. He offered the tub to the Auror who followed suit, his pig-like nose snuffling.

"Thanks," he said, his upper lip glistening in the light. "I take it you didn't get the call we sent through then?"

"No. When was he found?"

"About half an hour ago. Housekeeper found him. Comes once a week to do the dusting and such. She smelt something strange and went to investigate." The Auror began to ascend the stairs, his nose crinkling as the stench got stronger, the menthol unable to mask it entirely. "Got the shock of her life, the poor dear. It's not pretty."

"I can imagine," said Severus, thinking of the kit he'd left in the car. He only had one pair of gloves and his UV torch on him, and he had a feeling it was going to take a lot more than that to get this scene processed. "I take it you have the housekeeper in custody?"

"Naturally, though she'll be released once all the formalities are over and done with. Poor woman's well over a hundred. She can barely walk, let alone wield a weapon. Squib too, so no curses either."

"Family?"

"Grandson, Adrian. Estranged," said the Auror, guiding into a room at the end of the landing. "Can I ask what you wanted to speak to him about?"

The stench hit him full force as he entered what appeared to be the bedroom, rendering the Vicks all but useless. The room looked as though it had been ransacked. Pieces of parchment lay scattered upon the floor, chairs and tables had been overturned, drawers tossed carelessly to the side as the intruder searched. Bottles upon bottles lay on their sides upon the dresser, pills and potions spilling onto the wooden surface. Severus let out a groan, thinking of all the cataloguing to be done. All the prescriptions would have to be found, along with the receipts of store-bought potions. And he had the horrible feeling that one prescription in particular would be missing.

He turned, his dark gaze falling upon the corpse that lay upon the bed. The hot weather had sped up the decomposition process considerably. He took as deep a breath as he dared, trying hard to quell the nausea he felt at the sight of the bloated body. This was not going to be pleasant.

"You can ask all you like, but don't expect an answer," he said, rummaging in his pockets.

"Top secret, eh?" said the Auror, his gaze carefully avoiding the body on the bed.

Severus pulled on his gloves with a snap, his face a mask of concentration.

"Something like that."

---

Day 3 – 7:06am – Severus' Office

Severus arrived back at the Lab with a heavy heart. Yet another body for Luna's table. Another possible connection lost to the case. Things were going from bad to worse. He had one hope left. The Apothecary. But that would have to wait until tomorrow, along with Nott's autopsy. He was dead on his feet.

He sat down in his chair, his eyes sore. The smell of decomposition still hung in the air, woven into his clothes and hair. He would need a long, hot shower when he got home.

Sighing, he dragged his gaze down, ready to finish up for the day. Upon his desk lay the results of the external blood test along with a small, hand-written note. He picked it up, the parchment heavy in his long fingers.

Severus,

Hermione

He turned the paper over. There were two words on the back. He felt his heart clench as he read them.

I'm sorry.