Chapter 7

Chapter 7: Insufficient Balls to Be Truly Diverting.

***************

Snape emerged from the bushes, mustering as much dignity as a wizard could when covered in privet.

It was hot and he was irritable.

Nott! Of all the infernal bloody cheek of the man! Bloody interloper, with his bloody grinning I-know-something-you-don't-know expression. Little shit.

The journey from Hogwarts to this infernal place had been short and stressful. Having Apparated to London, Severus had consulted a map of the capital to determine the exact location of the All England Lawn Tennis Club, where the Wimbledon Championships were being held, and a another one of the site itself to select the safest place to Apparate to.

The photographs of Aorangi Park, on the far eastern side of the tennis club, had been the most accurate point of reference he could find, but they had not provided for the wall-to-wall picnicking families or the two slack-jawed adolescents – wearing replica sporting kit, trying to find somewhere for a surreptitious snog – that he encountered on his arrival.

In short, he had been forced to Re-Apparate very quickly into a bush.

He brushed errant leaves off his sleeves as he spun around slowly, taking in his surroundings.

No one appeared to take any notice of him. Muggles.

Discreetly, he fingered his wand in the pocket of the Muggle trench coat he was wearing and muttered, "Point me to Hermione Granger."

The wand twitched firmly in his fingers, and Snape began to stalk with the single-minded determination of the truly wronged towards the huge buildings dominating the tennis club.

***

"Professor Granger," Lucius Malfoy purred. "It is simply delightful to see you again."

The Members' Enclosure was an extraordinary sight. Hundreds of wooden tables with ivory parasols were crammed together on a patch of grass to the side of the impressive Competitors' Complex in front of the giant Centre Court building. Underneath the dappled shade they provided, hosts of Muggles sat about in identical wooden folding chairs, eating, drinking, and talking loudly. Hermione was glad that she had taken some care with her own appearance, as all the women that she could see were dripping with expensive-looking jewellery and the men were sporting garish blazers and very costly watches.

And standing in front of her, his neat frame dressed in a well tailored suit, his hair tied back from his face, and his expression polite and solicitous, stood Lucius Malfoy.

He seemed smaller than she remembered from the trials.

She forced her face into a smile.

He made a small bow, and she noticed that the cane in his hand was the same one he had carried before the War.

"Mister Malfoy," Hermione offered her hand, willing it to stay firm and not shake, "thank you for your invitation."

He took her hand, and her mind was suddenly crowded by questions. What the hell are you up to? Why do you want to speak to me suddenly after seven years? What do you want...?

"I am so pleased you were able to come," he interrupted her jumbled thoughts smoothly, his cool fingers encircling her own.

There was a slight pause, and he dropped his hand, waving to a passing sommelier for some drinks to be brought over.

"I did not realise that you followed Muggle sport," Hermione managed to say.

Lucius smiled and turned slightly so that her attention was drawn to the small dark blue club membership badge on his lapel. Hermione's eyebrows raised. She had researched the Championships thoroughly, and she knew how impossible it was to become a member of the All England Lawn Tennis Club. He was either fabulously well connected or obscenely rich.

A sudden memory from her conversation with Ginny rang in her head. "I thought the Malfoys were a faded force. Assets stripped. Out of the limelight..."

She stared at him. Assets stripped...

"Oh... I do enjoy games, Professor," he smiled. "I have certainly learned to fully appreciate Muggle sport in recent... times."

He leaned forward. "Thanks to my rehabilitation, I have also learned to appreciate much, much more about Muggle life," he added, and his eyes appeared to flash with some other meaning.

Beside her, she heard Nott snort very quietly.

She rallied. "I think you know Professor Nott, Mister Malfoy."

Lucius turned to her companion, and his eyebrow rose slightly. Hermione had the sudden, odd feeling that Lucius Malfoy was unsettled by Nott's presence. She made a mental note to ask Theodore about it later.

In the meantime, Lucius appeared to have recovered. "Your pardon, Professor Nott, " he purred. "I was under the impression that Professor Snape would be accompanying Professor Granger today. But it appears that my son was clearly misinformed."

"It is good to meet you after all this time, Mister Malfoy." Theodore bowed his head a little in return. "I will endeavor to fill Severus' shoes, so to speak... in all matters."

There was an awkward pause, no more than a beat... but Hermione heard it.

"You knew my son Draco, I believe?" Lucius asked eventually.

"Somewhat, sir," she heard Nott answer carefully. "I was with Draco in House. I do hope he will be here today...?"

"Indeed. Just so, just so." Lucius twirled his cane between the fingers of his right hand.

Hermione looked between the two men, sensing that something was not quite as it should have been.

But Nott continued to grin his easy grin and looked about the fine enclosure. His eyes lingered on a particularly garishly dressed lady. " And how is Mrs Malfoy?" he asked after a few moments. "I trust that she is well?"

A broad smile appeared again on their host's face. Or rather, Hermione thought, Lucius Malfoy just bared his teeth.

"She is well, I thank you, Mister Nott." Lucius replied. "She will be joining us later."

"Indeed," Nott nodded once more and took another sip from his glass.

Lucius turned his attention back to Hermione. "May I offer you a drink, Professor Granger?" he asked politely.

***

Having negotiated the strange, grassy hill bedecked by patriotic bunting and covered in excited Muggles – all of whom, for some reason, seemed perfectly, rowdily, content to sit in front of a giant television screen for their entertainment – Severus continued along a series of pathways towards Centre Court.

The sun beat down, making his neck itch, and he shucked his Muggle rain coat, being careful to keep his wand hidden beneath it as he continued to make his way, following the urgent pull of his wand.

He wondered for the umpteenth time what Lucius was up to, inviting them both to this ridiculous event. Beneath that speculation, he knew, even after all these years, lay the dark, uncomfortable, and familiar prickle of guilt.

He could have done more for Draco. He should have done more for him.

He remembered the look of resignation on the face of Malfoy senior as his son had been committed to prison. Lucius understood, of course, that Severus was only doing what he could to save his own neck. As Lucius had put it on the one occasion that Severus had visited his old associate during his confinement, defending the sons of proven Death Eaters was not a way to an Order of Merlin, First Class, after all – old boy.

It had been the last time the two of them had spoken in seven years.

Snape scowled at that memory as he pounded along the immaculately manicured walkway towards the centre of the tennis club complex, dodging championship goers and focusing on the sensations from the wand in his hand.

He was getting closer to her – he could feel it.

He was worried about Hermione. He thought back to Nott's supercilious grin over dinner the previous evening. It made him feel positively ancient to think in those terms, but he was concerned about the young man's intentions towards her.

And more concerned that you have fucked things up again for yourself, his conscience goaded him.

He dismissed the traitorous thought with a growl while turning smartly around the corner of a large brick building and cannoned straight into someone.

***

"Look who I found skulking around the Centre Court, Father!"

Hermione spun slowly on her heels to see Draco Malfoy approaching, pushing through the crowds of champagne drinkers in the Members' Enclosure. She was surprised to see him looking so well, given the picture of him that she had seen in Ginny's newspaper. Behind him, wearing a scowl so thunderous it could have boasted its own weather system, stood Severus Snape, tall and slender in a black linen suit.

Beside her, she heard Nott make a small, breathy sound like a cough.

"Hello, Theodore." Draco's pale eyes flicked between the two of them. His face was flushed.

"Hello, Draco," Nott returned smoothly, lifting his newly acquired champagne flute to his lips. "Professor," he added to Severus with admirable calm.

Severus ignored him, reserving his whole attention for Hermione.

"I thought you weren't coming!" she blurted.

"I thought you were going alone," Snape rejoined, eyes snapping. "But I see that Professor Nott has stepped into the breach."

"Look, I..." Hermione began hotly.

"Now, Severus," Draco placed his hand on Severus' arm, and to her utter astonishment, Hermione saw Snape shudder slightly under his touch and quieten, although his eyes still seemed to glitter darkly in the bright afternoon sunlight.

Lucius coughed discretely and looked at his expensive watch. He clucked his tongue.

"I do believe it is time for us to take our seats, lady and gentlemen," he announced. He flicked his eyes towards his son. "I imagine that mama will already be in the box...?" he enquired.

Draco smiled. "Naturally, Father."

"Mrs Malfoy is such a tennis fan, Hermione," Nott added.

"Just so, just so, dear boy," Lucius smiled through gritted teeth.

He offered Hermione his arm. "Shall we go, my dear?"

Automatically, she offered her hand in response, and he captured it quickly and smoothly, wrapping her fingers about his forearm.

Lucius squeezed her hand between his arm and his chest. "I'm sure that you will enjoy the game," he whispered to her, his breath hot on her cheek and his fingers pressing into the back of her hand. "I suppose the purist would say that there are insufficient balls in play for it to be truly diverting, but nonetheless..."

With one final look at Severus, who was still staring silently back at her with that curiously burning expression in his eyes, she was swept along at Lucius' side towards Centre Court.

*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

A/N: Grateful thanks as always to the incomparable beaweasley2, Clairvoyant and nagandsev.

I still don't own these characters - Jo Rowling does.

Happy Halloween, everyone... although I'm not sure that Severus would agree, of course.