Not Yet (A Hermione Granger fanfic)

Chapter 14

A/N: It's been a few days since I posted, so I've written an extra long one to reward you for your patience.

****Chapter FOURTEEN****

Snape sweeps his eyes over Hermione's beaded bag, the empty campsite, the wand still in her hand. "So you were just going to leave after discovering who I really am. And you were going to steal my potion. Is that all you are now, Granger: an oath-breaker and a thief?"

"I'm not going to let you goad me into an argument."

"Oh you were going to argue? When the facts are right in front of me? Please, let's see how you play this out."

Hermione sighs and stops pointing her wand at Snape. "Okay, okay. I left some of the potion for you," she grumbles. She summons two vials where she'd left them at the base of the tree.

Snape intercepts them and places them in his pocket. "And our deal?" he asks.

"You're serious."

"We agreed to help each other. Both of us knew up front that the other was hiding something. The terms have not changed."

"So far, I'm the only one who's tried to hold up my end."

Snape nods. "Well then, shall we?" He steps back and motions for her to go ahead, as if they'll just pick up their search as planned.

Hermione's nostrils flare. "Don't push it, Snape. I'm still thinking about hexing you."

"And now that you've told me, you are less likely to do it, I think." Snape waves his hand, and their two chairs appear side by side next to the cold fire pit—one wooden, one comfy.

Hermione waves her wand, and transfigures the comfy one into another wooden one. Then she pulls her chair apart from his, just out of arm's reach.

Snape sits down first, the wooden chair creaking as he sinks into it. But he doesn't offer any information. He just sits and looks at her. If he thinks she's going to start the conversation, he's dead wrong.

Finally, Hermione sits down, too, her chair angled so she can see him as well as the ashes of the fire. She points her wand at the remaining charred logs and they burst into flames.

"It's a little warm for a fire, isn't it?" Snape asks.

Hermione ignores him, watching the flames lick up the wood, which crackles and pops.

"Aren't you going to say anything?" he asks.

"You said you had a lot of explaining to do. I'm waiting."

Snape smirks, not unkindly. "Shall I tell you how I didn't die first, or why I'm here in this forest?"

"Whichever you feel is best." She crosses her arms and stares at him. "Surprise me."

"In that case, I shall start with neither. Do you remember a few years ago when Dumbledore reinstated the Order of the Phoenix? Yes, of course you do . . . How old were you then?"

"Fifteen, I think. It was right after Voldemort killed Cedric Diggory."

Snape winced. "Miss Granger: Albus Dumbledore may have been comfortable saying that name any time he wished, and even passed on the foolishness to Potter, but I associate it with some very bad memories that neither one of them could imagine in their most terrifying of nightmares."

Hermione nods. It is no different out in the larger wizarding community. Years after Voldemort's defeat, his name still brings terror and fear to those who speak it, perhaps more so than before the Battle of Hogwarts.