Inside the Blackest Heart (Edit, Not Update)

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to JKR. All situations are mine. No $$$ is being made from this fanfic.
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Chapter 52 ~ Extending the Olive Branch

A reluctant Snape walked through the corridor leading to the outside of the Dark Lord’s stronghold. He had to get Potter’s bloody bird. He came to a great, heavy wooden door that looked as if it hadn’t been opened for ages. Snape cast an alohamora spell at the door and pushed against it. Of course it was strongly warded. Shit. This would take forever.

Hermione and Harry were watching Snape through the image Hermione cast on the wall. The scene seemed to shift to whoever Hermione concentrated on, almost like a magic mirror. The Primordal watched Snape struggle with the wards for a couple of minutes, then removed them, causing Snape to fall out of the door when he shoved against it heavily and it gave way.

Harry laughed.

“Did you do that?” he asked her, chuckling. Hermione was smirking at the image.

“I couldn’t resist. He’s such a sour bastard,” she replied.

The Potions Master pushed himself off the ground and shook his fist angrily at the air.
He knew Hermione had purposely made him fall.

Harry looked at her soberly.

“If he’s such a sour bastard Hermione, why do you let him…let him…” Harry began.

“Because he does something for me, Harry. It’s like he knows what I need,” she said softly, not looking at her friend.

Harry looked at the dark wizard searching the sky.

“I just can’t see him caring about anybody,” Harry said.

Hermione took a deep breath.

“He doesn’t care about anybody but himself, Harry. In the beginning, he fucked me because I wanted it, and it gave him pleasure to do it. Deflowering Dumbledore’s princess and using her mercilessly appealed to him. I think in his mind he was getting the Headmaster back through me. I can’t explain how it kept going…but here he was ordered by the Dark Lord to keep me happy. But he doesn’t care about me. He just likes to do me. And I like him to do me.”

Harry looked at his friend open-mouthed.

“You wanted it? I was sure he talked or blackmailed you into it, Hermione. I mean, there’s nothing to like about him at all. He hates everybody, and is truly evil,” Harry said, trying to understand, but finding nothing to hold on to.

“Yes he is, Harry. I’m attracted to his evil I guess. One thing I’m sure of is no other wizard will ever make me feel like he makes me feel. And when all this is over, he’s going to go and not look back,” she said, her voice quavering as she looked down at her hands, twisting her fingers.

“So, tell him how you feel,” Harry said, not believing he was telling Hermione to pursue the snarky Potions Master. He winced a little.

“It won’t make a difference to him, Harry. He’s already told me how he feels nothing outside of the actual physical pleasure of fucking me. And after what happened the last time he was with me, he might never touch me again, now that Voldemort’s dead,” she said.

Harry was about to ask what happened when Snape entered, with an angry, biting Hedwig. Snape had his fist wrapped around both her legs and was holding one wing with the other hand. The angry owl was beating her free wing and writhing, nipping at the hand around her legs. There were little bites all over the back of it.

A pissed Snape threw the irate bird into the air, and Hedwig flew towards Harry, landing on his shoulder and preening his hair lightly before looking back at Snape and actually hissing. Snape ran his injured hand through his hair and glared at the bird.

“If we didn’t need you….” Snape growled at Hedwig, who flapped her wings and turned her lifted tail towards him.

“Miss Granger, that bloody bird bit me,” Snape complained, scowling blackly at the bird as Harry took the message off her leg. “Nothing bites me and lives.”

Hermione sighed. Suddenly, Snape’s hand was whole again.

“Thank you,” he said stuffily, glaring at Hedwig. Then he stalked over to Hermione who was busily looking at the image. He stood in front of her, his black eyes hard.

“You purposely unwarded that door so I’d fall,” he accused.

Hermione looked up at him, her amber eyes round with innocence.

“Now Professor. Why would I do such a thing?” she asked him.

Snape snorted. “I don’t know why. You’re a woman. Women do things for the strangest most insane reasons.” He said glowering at her.

“Well, you made me one,” she snapped back.

Snape blinked his eyes at the Primordial, at a loss for words. Finally, he said grumpily, “I’ll be in your study if you need me.” He stalked off, with his trademark billow of robes.

Hermione watched him go with a satisfied little smirk. Then she turned to Harry, who was watching Snape stalk across the room, scowling.

“You sure seem to get under his skin,” Harry said.

“He probably would have strangled me if I wasn’t a Primordial,” Hermione commented, “I’d pin his ass to the rafters if he tried it now.”

Harry looked at Hermione strangely.

“Strangle you?” he asked worriedly.

“Never mind, Harry,” she said, “What does the note say?”

“Oh, it says ‘Help is on the way.’” Harry replied.

Hermione looked at the image and willed it to show Dumbledore. He was standing outside, watching some hippogriffs land. Order members jumped off them and ran to the Headmaster, gesturing excitedly. The Headmaster listened, nodding. Then he turned and raised his arms, shouting something. Hermione panned back and saw the Headmaster was addressing at least two thousand Order members.

“Shit,” she said. “Harry we need to get that message to him soon.

A quill and parchment appeared before her.

“Ok, I have to set this message up so the Oath takes effect when both parties sign it.


Dear Headmaster,

Voldemort is dead. I would like to talk with you before further violence starts. I would like you to come to the stronghold for a discussion on where we stand. Maybe we can come to a reasonable solution that will avoid bloodshed. Harry is here too. He will come and escort you to the stronghold if you agree to hear me out. To insure peaceful negotiations, please sign below my signature to take a wizard’s oath that you will not attack or seek to harm anyone during this talk. I in turn agree that you will not be attacked or harmed by anyone during this talk and shall be allowed to return to your ranks unharmed when we are finished with our conversation. With your signature, the Wizard’s Oath will be invoked.

X Hermione Granger


X


Hermione reread the letter.

“That should do it. I don’t think he will let anyone know Voldemort is already dead. He will come to see for himself first. Here, tie this to Hedwig and send it to the Headmaster, Harry,” Hermione said.

The wizard tied the note to the owl’s leg securely.

“I’ll take her out,” Harry said, rising and exiting through the doorway that led to the outside, Hedwig on his shoulder. Hermione watched them go.

“Gods, I hope this works,” she breathed, “for all our sakes.”

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Snape was not in Hermione’s study. When he went into her rooms, he cast a disillusionment spell on himself and eased back out into the throne room while Harry and Hermione were putting their heads together over the message they would send to Dumbledore.

He entered another door and walked a long corridor, following it to an iron door at the end. He unwarded the door and entered the room behind it. He lit the wall torches with a wave of his hand, and looked around, his eyes narrowed.

This was his lab, where he had brewed elixirs and conducted experiments for the Dark Lord for many years. This was the place where he truly lost his soul and committed his worst atrocities. His black eyes fell on the bloodstained tables and floors, lifted to the chains that hung from the ceiling, slipped over the tables holding razor-sharp knifes and other tools used to separate the spirit from the body. He gazed at the distilleries, the beakers still filled with dried crimson. The Potions Master stood there for several minutes, taking in the room and committing it to memory.

Then he started blasting.

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A/N: The story is heading for its climax. (lemonless) Hang in there folks. Please review.