Be Careful in the Dark

It was a constant power struggle between Snape and Hermione. Every moment she spent with him was a test of will. He constantly tried to break into her mind. His initial crow of triumph when he slammed through her mental barriers was replaced by a howl of frustration. She had thought of that beforehand and combined using a pensieve and a slightly modified memory charm to make sure that her memories were safe or not incriminating though he knew now she was of muggle ancestry. She mocked him just to see the rage twitch under his skin.



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Hermione eased her way towards the house, keeping her body in the shadows. She felt a little silly dressed in all black but it seemed appropriate given her activities. She eased her way to the side of the house and began slipping her way around the house. She’d cast a small notice-me-not but kept her magical use to a minimum. If anyone in the house was sensitive to magic, they’d be on edge sooner than she wanted them to be.



It was a large house though run down. The windows were grimy and the paint peeling off in large curls. It had probably been a blue house long ago but now it looked grey. The yard was mostly bare dirt with a few scraggly patches of grass. The neighborhood around it matched the house. It was the kind of neighborhood where no one would call the cops for a stray scream; the kind of neighborhood where no one looked twice at large, armed, dangerous looking men (and one woman) coming and going from a previously empty house. It was the kind of house and neighborhood invisible to police and politicians alike.



“I’m tellin’ you man, somebody’s watchin’ us.” A dark, gravelly voice said from the window above her. Hermione winced. Apparently at least one of them was sensitive to magic… that or extremely paranoid. She’d used Aidan Summers’ dog tag to locate him in Los Angeles. She’d spent the next week spying on the group of mercenaries, figuring out their patterns, locating Summers in the house, and trying to come up with a plan where she didn’t end up dead or worse, caught.



“Banks, you are a seriously paranoid man. I have been all over this neighborhood. Twice. Nobody’s watching.”



Hermione moved on, heading towards a window in the back of the house. The mercenaries rarely entered the bathroom at the back of the house and it seemed like a good point of entry. There were six of them and they worked in shifts of three. Sometimes, one of them slept in the back bedroom while on shift. Tonight was one of those nights.



She crossed her fingers and evanescoed the pane of glass in the window. Hopefully the big guy out front wouldn’t come investigating. There were two wires on either side of the window and she avoided tripping them by crawling through the now empty window frame.



She ghosted through the bathroom door and into the bedroom. A male form slept on his side on the bed. She lifted her gun and fired, a small spitting sound followed. The shape on the bed moaned but didn’t move. A tranquilizer dart stuck out of the meaty flesh of his ass.



She had debated long and hard about how to arm herself. Obviously, there were a number of spells that she could have used to subdue these men. However, using a lot of magic left behind magical traces. Any halfway decent auror would know magic had been used at the household and Americans had aurors mixed in with the official government law enforcement: FBI, CIA, NSA. She didn’t want anyone to know a wizard had been here. She was already taking a risk with the window and the apparating she was going to have to do to get Aidan out with her. It was possible that she was being paranoid but she had nightmare visions of having her door busted open by aurors and arrested. No thank you. She needed to cover her tracks.



She also wasn’t willing to kill anyone. These guys were killers for sure but it was the people who hired them that were the real problem. Killing a group of mercenaries just meant that another group would be hired in their stead. Furthermore, this group seemed fairly skilled at keeping their body count to a minimum. So, a tranquilizer gun had been the logical choice.



“Billy boy, you okay back here?” The door opened as the gravelly voice she had heard earlier spoke. She turned quickly, firing her gun again, but not before he let out a cry of warning. The big man went down like a wall of bricks crumbling, a dart sticking out of his neck.



Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Now the other guy was alerted that something was wrong. She slipped down the hallway, grateful it was dark and kept to one side where the floorboards were less likely to creak. She crouched peeked her head around the corner that led into the living room and kitchen. Three spits and exploding wood were her reward. This guy was using a silencer and he definitely had live ammo. She hadn’t even seen him. God damn it. Would he call in reinforcements? She needed to neutralize him and quickly.



She stood and quickly popped her head around the corner. He fired several shots at her again but this time she’d managed to get a good idea of the layout. She’d also spotted his position behind the couch. The kitchen opened up into a small eating area on the right. There were guns and a black bag on the table. The living room on the left on the right had a couch and large armchair and an entertainment system. Most of the light came from a ceiling lamp in the living room ceiling. A small lamp lit the table on the right.



Her heart was hammering in her chest and she was momentarily grateful that she had the foresight to wear a pair of leather gloves. It kept her grip on her weapon secure even though her hands were slick with sweat. Her mind whirled, would that work? No. How about this? No. Would this work? Maybe.



She shifted her trank gun to her left hand and pulled out her back-up weapon. A Kahr K9… a sleek, nasty pistol that fit neatly in the holster in the small of her back. She eased the safety off. A scraping sound indicated he might be on the move. It was now or never. She threw herself around the corner, landing on her side, firing the handgun upwards. The light in the living room exploded in a shower of sparks. At the same time, she fired the trank gun, activating a homing spell she hadn’t wanted to use. Hermione dropped the trank gun and scuttled across the floor, hiding on the other side of the couch from her target.



Other than a few half-hearted sparks from the now defunct light, silence reigned. She took a deep breath and peered around the couch. She could see a booted foot sprawled on the floor. She eased her way around the long end of the couch until she could see his entire form: out cold with a trank dart sticking out of his neck. She let out a shaky sigh. I can’t believe that worked. If she hadn’t had the advantage of magic… it wouldn’t have.



It was possible no one had called the police with the shots fired. It was possible that the merc hadn’t managed to call for back up. It was more likely that both groups were about to descend on her position. She needed to move. She ran to the table, peering into the black duffel bag. Some interesting looking weapons and several wads of cash. Mine. She zipped the bag shut and slung it over her back. She returned to the bathroom and jerked her wand in the direction of the window, muttering a returning charm under her breath. The window re-appeared.



She pulled the basement door open and tip-toed down the stairs. Aidan Summers was handcuffed to the wall. He was blindfolded and his bare chest, arms, and face were latticework of bruises. Hermione looked around, spotting the keys to the handcuffs hanging from a nail in the wall. She snagged it and uncuffed one hand. She kicked him over onto his back, sitting on him, while she cuffed his hands behind his back. She had already used too much magic and needed to get him out of the house before apparating. Since she was going to have to trank him before that happened, he didn’t need to know who she was just yet.



She dragged him to his feet, forcing him towards the stairs. “Walk or I’ll maim you.” She prodded her gun into his shoulder. He snarled at her wordlessly but began to shuffle forward. She warned him of the stairs and he made his way awkwardly up them. She led him out the back door, across the barren backyard and into the alley. About twenty feet to the right were two garages close together. She forced him into the small space between them. She stepped back and shot a tranquilizer dart into his ass. He let out a small cry and tumbled forward. She jumped and caught his belt, easing him to the ground. She then turned, pulling out her wand, and accio’d the trank darts. They burst through a window and hurtled towards her, landing lightly in her palm.



Hermione grabbed Aidan by the arm and apparated to a hotel room in San Francisco that she had already rented under an assumed name.



With a crack, she found herself in a full suite. She used her wand to move the unconscious Aidan onto the bed. She then dumped out the contents of the duffel bag on the table in the living room, rifling through quickly for a homing device. Nothing. The rolled up wads of cash proved to be comprised of hundred dollar bills. She smiled to herself. She left one roll of cash and a weapon on the table.



She cuffed Aidan to the bed, removed his blindfold and pulled the tranquilizer dart out of his butt. Pulling up a chair, she sat down and waited. It took about fifteen minutes before he twitched and opened bleary eyes.



“Who the fuck are you?” He asked, his voice surprisingly deep. He was a smaller man with graying hair… and his head and his chest.



“Alex sent me to rescue you.” She replied, knowing that he saw a young Hispanic woman. No doubt he was confused.



“That asshole. I’m surprised he didn’t let me rot.” Aidan snarled and yanked angrily on the handcuffs. The bed rocked.



“Apparently, he felt he still owed you.” Hermione said, surprised at his reaction. She’d gotten the impression the men were friends. Apparently, she was wrong.



“So why am I still handcuffed? Afraid I’ll bite, girlie?” He curled his lip at her.



“Men like you kill first and think second. I thought it would be a pity to rescue you and then kill you.”



He laughed. Hermione just looked at him. He stopped and lifted his eyebrows at her.



“The mercenaries aren’t dead. You should probably figure out who hired them. There is a weapon and some cash on the table.” She pulled a business card out of her pocket. She’d debated the wisdom of this but she could always ignore him. “This is a number where you can contact me. I’m not much for killing, that goes double for good guys. Hell, even the grey guys. But I’ll consider assisting you if the situation is right. You’ll owe me though.” She grinned wolfishly at him.



“I don’t the assistance of a child!” Aidan growled.



Hermione rolled her eyes. “Then don’t call me you ungrateful prick. I won’t lose any sleep over you.” She stood, leaving the card with the handcuff key on the dresser. She turned and started walking from the room.



“Hey! Get back here and uncuff me!”



“You’re the big, bad grown-up. Figure it out yourself.” Hermione said with a laugh.



She exited the hotel room, headed to the stairwell and apparated to her tiny, unpacked flat. Peeling off the leather gloves and the rest of her clothing, she collapsed into her bed and slept for twelve hours.



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Hermione’s muscles trembled as she lifted the spoon to her mouth. By the time it made to her mouth, she had lost half of her soup. Damn Snape. Damn everything about him. Three solid days of training, dueling, honing magical poisons and disguises, and now he wanted to fucking play dinner party.



“Make soup… the hard way,” he’d said in that condescending, I-know-you-can’t tone that drove her completely nuts. “Do try to eat it like a human being,” with that curl of his lip that made her want to smack him.



Exhaustion made it almost impossible to keep her eyes open. He struck at her mind, digging…



… bicycling down a hill… playing in a stream…



He snarled as he tried to access a useful memory. Hermione stood, throwing her bowl of soup at him. He shouted in pain. She lifted the table, tossing it at him. He batted it to one side with his wand and launched himself at her. She tried to step to one side but she was too slow. Snape slammed her down to the ground. She elbowed him viciously in the face, trying to get to her wand. He slammed his knee into her chest and the air whooshed out of her chest. He pointed the wand at her head and wrapped his other hand around her throat.



“You’re pathetic. We’ve barely done anything in past three days. Do I seem tired to you? Of course not. If people don’t know you’re exhausted, they are less likely to attack. You cannot drop your guard in public. I have told you this. DO NOT WASTE MY TIME!” He screamed at her.



“Fuck you! I hate you… you… you cross-eyed, rat-raping, monkey fucking, pus of a thousand syphilitic camels!” She screamed back, tears pouring out of her eyes.



“Oh look, your brain almost works!” He sneered back. “Now get up, pour two more bowls of the slop you call soup, and act like you aren’t in pain. DO IT!”



He got off of her and Hermione rolled to her feet. She’d pulled something as they fought but she ruthlessly suppressed the pain. She was going to get through this. She was going to finish this. She poured two more bowls of soup while Snape righted the table and chairs. She set both of them down and fetched two more spoons.



She sat there, keeping her posture rigidly straight, and made small talk about the weather and her health. She kept one hand in her lap, fingers moving sinuously. Her smile felt fake and she thought she might pass out at any moment but she would play his game. For now.



When she had finished, she stood and walked over to the sink. She deliberately turned her back on him. She didn’t hear him get up but she did hear him fall flat on his face with a curse. While he’d been chit chatting, she’d been tying his shoelaces into one giant knot.



The shape she wore roared in laugher as she tapped a portkey and vanished.