Armistice

A/N: A more light-hearted chapter after all that angst. And did I mention that reviews make me inordinately happy? Just checking.

Chapter 10

Armistice

--7:30–8:00pm, July 7, 1998--

She was waiting for him in his Potions lab when he returned. She sat calmly in an armchair that she had Transfigured from an uncomfortable stool. The only sign of her careful vigil was the wand she held loosely but carefully trained upon entrance. As he walked in and saw her, she watched him freeze and was treated to the rare sight of Severus Snape in utter, flabbergasted shock.

Instead, she smiled. It was not a nice smile. How quickly the tables were turned! "Do close your mouth, Professor." Damn. She still instinctively called him Professor. "Ask your questions. Then it's my turn."

"How, by Merlin's balls, did you get here?"

"A little spell? You invented a... little spell?? You conniving... wench!"

"I believe that the next question you were going to ask would be 'why am I here'? And I'll answer that gladly. I'm sick of being used and pitied. I'm sick of Harry and Ron looking at me so sadly that I think I've died. I'm sick of restaurants charging me twice for the same meal because I don't remember paying for it. And I'm sick of you, who up until a week ago, I thought was the most treacherous piece of shit on the planet. And now you're deciding to prove to me how tearfully selfless you've been, and therefore I automatically owe you something. If you want forgiveness from Dumbledore, you march into Minerva's office and beg his portrait because that's all that's left of him now. If you want forgiveness from the Order, you bring us Voldemort's head on a platter. If you want forgiveness from me, you work with me as an equal to bring down His Dark Holiness and those bastards that stole my mind, and we'll call it even. Is that acceptable, Professor?"

"Now then, Snape, could I persuade you to join me for dinner? It's the least I could do after ruining yours."

--11:30am–12:00pm, October 10, 1998--

His reaction was everything that she had feared.

She saw when the dawning realization lit in his eyes, and the fury turned his face ugly.

"SNAPE?!"

Harry's wand was drawn in a second.

"It's not what you think, Harry..."

"What did he do, Camilla, bewitch you? Claim that he didn't really kill Dumbledore, that it really was all an elaborate ruse to boost his position in Voldemort's circle?"

Hermione gaped, astonished at how close to the truth he had come. Harry seemed to react to the look in her eyes. "I thought so," he sneered. "I'm a stubborn arse, Cami, not a fool. I have thought of every possible excuse that git could prepare, and guess what? None of them satisfy me!"

"Harry, no! That's not what happened. You must understand, Dumbledore wanted him to do it."

"Dumbledore begged him..."

"To kill him! Dumbledore knew he was dying; he told me so himself!" Hermione took advantage of Harry's momentary speechlessness to press onwards. "Please let me explain...." She told Harry everything she had seen in McGonagall's memory.

Harry was unexpectedly silent after her explanation. After a beat, he asked, "And where is the memory now?"

"I'll get it. I had Minerva lend me Dumbledore's Pensieve for the day because I knew I would need to show you. Just... put down your wand, okay?"

He lowered his wand slowly, his face still furious.

--12:30–1:00pm, October 10, 1998--

Harry lifted his head out of the Pensieve, gasping slightly. His eyes were haunted. Hermione placed a hand lightly on his shoulder. "Are you alright? Did you... did you talk to him?"

He looked absently at her. "Huh? Oh, I... yes. I just need a minute to think."

After a minute, he was scowling again, and his wand arm trembled. The conclusions he was drawing were definitely not to Hermione's liking.

"This is Dumbledore's Pensieve, right? And you saw the memory in here as well?"

"Yes. And before you say anything, I saw Minerva take the memory from her head. There's no way that Snape could have tampered with it beforehand." Yet Harry's face was still red from fury, and his hands clenched into fists.

"You think the only thing he could have tampered with was the memory itself? That bastard. As if Dumbledore wasn't enough, I'll kill him for what he's done to you!"

"Harry, you're not making any sense," Hermione pleaded.

"No," Harry seethed. "You wouldn't know anything about this, but I'm sure that he counted on that. Do you remember those disastrous Occlumency lessons? Well, the git had quite a few memories that he never wanted me to see; so guess where he put them away for safekeeping?"

Hermione's eyes widened, understanding creeping into her mind.

"That's right. Dumbledore's Pensieve."

"So you think that Se-Snape somehow... corrupted the Pensieve to fake Dumbledore's presence in the memory?"

"You know that I do," he said shortly.

"That's not possible."

"He's guilty, Camilla. I saw him do it."

"Harry," Hermione explained slowly, resisting the urge to snap at him. He couldn't be expected to know. "Pensieves are protected by extremely powerful magic. The devices, including any memories that are placed inside, can only be altered by the rightful owner of the Pensieve. Dumbledore must have made significant adjustments to give Snape permission to even temporarily store his own memories, let alone attempt to tamper with the Pensieve."

"Okay, okay," he grumbled, and Hermione stopped talking with a slight blush. She knew that she had been in "textbook mode" again.

"But I wasn't finished," said Harry. "There's something else. You said that the Dumbledore in the memory said that he was a remnant of his former self?"

"That's correct."

"Cami, how the bloody hell could Dumbledore know about your attack that happened after he was murdered?"

Hermione's mouth opened and closed for a few seconds.

"I..." She flailed, grasping instinctively for her bracelet. Catnip, she remembered with relief. "That piece of Dumbledore is still alive. He was living in McGonagall's head, with full access to her thoughts and memories, past and current."

"Oh, stop fishing. That's a stretch, even for the imagination."

"I'm not fishing!" Hermione snapped, growing increasingly angry at his pig-headedness. "Think, Harry, try and look past your hatred for the man and consider reasonable explanations."

"And I suppose you're an expert when it comes to memories, aren't you?"

Hermione saw Harry's eyes go wide before the words had finished escaping his mouth. He knew that he had gone too far, but that wasn't enough to stop the well of rage rising within her.

"How dare you?" she hissed.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to..."

"It's all I have." Her rage had fled quickly to be replaced with quiet despair, begging him to understand. "If I can't believe in what we – Snape and I – have accomplished together, if I can't believe in him... I have nothing."

"You have me, Cami. Always," Harry pleaded with unnatural earnestness. "You don't need him. Nobody needs him."

Her anger returned, fiercer than before. "Don't you ever say that again. He has done more for us than you will ever know."

"I just hate that he's managed to get you on his side now," he snapped.

"What do you want from me?" she seethed. "To betray him to you? That'd be alright wouldn't it, because Snape doesn't deserve the same consideration as other human beings."

Harry looked on the verge of shouting something harsh in return. With a monstrous effort, he restrained himself. "I can't speak for the git, but I would never ask that of you. I've always known you were loyal to me, and I can't imagine things otherwise. I will always trust you, Camilla."

"I... thank you, Harry. That means a lot to me."

He scoffed. "You should hardly be surprised. You've been with me since the beginning."

Silence fell and both of them shuffled awkwardly for a moment. Hermione cleared her throat. "So does this mean that you'll consider meeting him?"

Harry groaned. "Don't spring that on me yet. As a stubborn arse, I learn slowly."

Shaky grins appeared on both of their faces as they realized that despite everything, they always managed to remain friends.

"I just..." Harry paused, a shadow settling in his eyes. "It's hard to believe that a part of Dumbledore is still alive. He told me himself that no spell could bring back the dead. This... this situation is not the same. I know that. But..."

"The ones we love never really leave us, Harry."

His green eyes snapped up to her face, squinting in bemusement. "You sure that you don't have a bit of Dumbledore in you as well? I swear you sounded exactly like him just now."

She laughed. "No. But I'm flattered at the comparison." Her mood sobered then and she placed a hand on his collarbone, feeling Harry's heartbeat flutter under the bottom edge of her palm. "We have helped each other every step of the way. What Se-Snape and I have created could very well destroy Voldemort for good. Isn't that enough of an incentive?"

He gave a great sigh, and Hermione felt his chest rise and fall. "I'll meet him. But I'm doing it for you, Cami. Not him."

Hermione nodded. It was a start.

"And if I sense any funny business on his part, anything at all..."

Hermione placed her other hand on his other shoulder. "You let me worry about that."

--12:00–12:30pm, October 13, 1998--

"No, Hermione. Absolutely not."

Hermione sighed. "Do you know how much Harry hates you?"

"And that is precisely why it would be suicide for me to appear before him without my wand."

"Did I hear what I thought I did? Did Severus Snape just admit that Harry Potter is perhaps not an inept dunderhead after all?"

"Don't be ridiculous. All I said is that Potter would pose a danger to an unarmed man."

Hermione bit her lip so that he would not see her smile.

"Are you truly that worried about what Potter might do to me?"

"What?"

"You bite your lip whenever you are nervous."

"I do?"

"Indeed. You would make a horrible spy."

"That may be so, but I'm not nearly offended enough not to notice that you're attempting to change the subject. Let me keep your wand during the meeting, Severus. Please."

He gave a long, suffering sigh. "Hermione, trust me when I say that I know exactly how angry Potter is at me. No matter how well you think you may have convinced him of my loyalty, the first thought when he sees me will be murder."

"Well then, I will just have to confiscate his wand as well."

"And how do you propose to do that? Potter is not nearly as logical and susceptible to reason as I am."

Hermione snorted. "I'll force him into a mutual agreement. I will tell him that I expect both of you to be unarmed, which is a reasonable arrangement. The meeting will also take place in a neutral location."

He narrowed his eyes. "Where?"

There was wicked gleam in Hermione's eyes as she replied, "McDonald's at Victoria Place."

Severus' face went pale as he swallowed deliberately. "I would ask if you were joking, but I fear that I already know the answer."

"Grease and salt are your friends, Severus."

"Even I have my limits." He was no longer pale and had instead turned a faint shade of green.

"The locale will prevent either of you from throwing any wandless magic. Both of you know that it is within the Muggle Prime Minister's direct jurisdiction, and any magic performed will have Ministry officials there in minutes."

"And what reason would Potter have to not call the law down upon my head?"

"Because he knows that I won't leave you."

Severus' jaw shifted under his skin. There was a look in his eyes that appeared just shy of disgust. Then it was gone. "Does he now?" he replied at last.

"Yes," Hermione said. "So you needn't worry that he won't behave."

He coughed lightly. "There was a much, ah, easier way that you could have confiscated my wand."

"Stolen it from you and then conveniently 'forgotten' where I had hidden it?"

"You considered it then."

"Considered it, yes. Seriously, no."

"I... thank you, Hermione."

She sniffed. "As if I could have successfully stolen something from a Slytherin."

Severus smiled. Hermione may not have recorded every gesture precisely, but she was reasonably certain that he had smiled more in the past three months than he had before in his entire life.

He pulled his wand from his voluminous sleeve and handed it to her, handle first. She reached out and grasped the end. Her palm was slightly damp, and her skin stuck to the slightly rougher handle. The handle was dark grey, complementing the rest of the polished jet-black wood.

"Black walnut with a unicorn hair core, fourteen-and-seven-eighths inches long."

Hermione's fingers curled around the handle and found the smooth depressions where his fingers would have rested most often. The wand was aged but well cared-for over the years.

It was also the longest one she had ever seen.

"Hermione, are you well? You look a little flushed."

The sound of his voice penetrated Hermione's racing thoughts of where on earth that thought and the accompanying insinuations had come from, and she blushed even brighter. "Nothing. I'm fine. Uh, I just... I'm honored that you have trusted me with this."

Severus tugged on her arm. Unprepared, Hermione stumbled and gasped as she fell against his chest. "Thank you for asking my permission," he said, running one hand through her curly, bushy hair.

Tingling from his sudden closeness, and with her mind still full of inappropriately graphic and erotic images, Hermione felt her hand rise instinctively to grasp the back of his neck and pull his face towards hers.

She heard Severus grunt in surprise as their lips met, but he wasted no time in kissing her back. Hermione felt feverish in her excitement as she took charge of the kiss, humming against his lips and dipping her tongue inside to taste him.

She also felt slightly strange, as she had never been the aggressor before. But then again, never before had it felt, as it did at this moment, so right.

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Next chapter: A series of vignettes as Hermione and Snape begin to work together, and just how did Snape get those white teeth in chapter 8?