Be Careful in the Dark

Chapter 34: Quick and dirty

A/N: I know this was a long time coming and it is very short. There are several ideas brewing in my head and finding the time to let them out... well, it just never seems to happen. Below are two quick and dirty snippets. While I’ve written this entire story from Hermione’s perspective, the second snippet insisted on existing.

I want to thank everyone who has posted a comment. It’s really motivating to know people actually read this story. I've also gotten a few questions about whether or not this is HG/SS. Clearly, that's a key relationship but there's also a little HG/HP thrown in... so I felt a little weird about posting it in the HG/SS-only section.

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This game with Severus had to stop.

Hermione spread her research notes in front of her, cuddling her first cup of tea to her chest, and looking over the papers in front of her. Equations, diagrams, and results tables shifted lazily on the pages. She didn’t think too hard or focus too closely on any particular place; she just let her mind turn over the problem.

Severus was right; the rats were a problem. She pictured him, then, leaning over the counter in her lab, his long fingers tracing along a particular written note. She pictured those fingers running over her skin and her breath caught.

Hermione closed her eyes and cursed. It had to stop, whatever was going on between her and Severus was a game. People in the middle of wars should not play such games. It was a distraction, it was dangerous and really... what did she expect would happen? Severus would suddenly become warm and romantic, like a hero in a romance novel? That was never going to happen. Gods, she didn’t even want it to happen! But… the other night. No. No. Last night was a signal that you are in way over your head.

Hermione sighed and gave up trying to look at the papers. She felt sick to her stomach, anxious, and confused. The worst part was that none of these feelings had anything to do with Voldemort, Death Eaters, the War, or L-Lu... Hermione let her brain skitter away from the name. Somewhere inside her chest was a cold, dark ball of terror and fury and the Reaper was tucked firmly inside. That she could not handle right now.

She re-focused on the more immediate problem. Then she snorted, set her tea down, and put her hands in her head. I’m avoiding one problem by focusing on another problem, which I also should be ignoring! Hermione had a momentary impulse to throw the teacup across the room. If she didn’t desperately want the caffeine, she would.

Severus... sex... alley... right. The sick feeling in her stomach felt more like when she’d made cow eyes at Gilderoy Lockhart. Or when things with Victor had fallen apart. I’m only eighteen… maybe nineteen depending on how you count that whole business with the time turner… I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. Should I just ignore him? But if I ignore him, won’t he think he got to me? And I still kinda need him. He’s too good a resource to throw away because I can’t control my urges to… with Snape! Argh! What would a grown up do?

Hermione blew out a sharp breath. Bugger it; I need advice. She racked her brain and felt her heart sink as she realized she only knew two adults, in the magical world, who would help her without asking her too many questions: Roland Rastilan and Atruellu Festus Finn. The Third.

"Bugger."

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Ron held a hand up, frowning, and the angry babble of voices trailed off. He stared at the source of his frustration: Gabriella Delacour. She was sitting across from him, legs crossed primly, and smirking.

He and Harry had been doing a lot of work since they had graduated Hogwart’s and expanded Dumbledore’s Army. The Hogwart’s graduates had made friends and there remained an active branch of the DA inside Hogwart’s, a branch that added recruits every year.

Sitting around a long table were the various captains of the DA cells. While there was a central command structure, each captain was both prepared and able to continue work on his or her own. There was a great deal of overlap between the DA and the Order of the Phoenix. The DA, however, were the people who were loyal to Harry before they were loyal to anyone else.

Gabriella Delacour had arrived yesterday. Hermione had told him she would be coming and he had agreed that it made sense to have people working on the problems arising in France. What he hadn’t counted on was Gabriella being disruptive, difficult, and a complete pain in the ass.

She rolled into every meeting pouting her little pout and talking in that stupid French accent. He knew it was a put on; Hermione had told him. She interrupted. No, she poo-poohed other people’s ideas without listening to them! She was oozing Veela out of every pore. The women in the room hated her and none of the men could think straight.

At the first meeting, it was all Ron could do not to clobber the man next to him and drag Gabriella off into a corner somewhere. At the second meeting, his rage had started to burn and his visions of fucking her became disturbingly violent.

Now, at the third meeting, his rage had eclipsed his lust and Ron just wanted her gone. Possibly after fucking her. Ron dug his blunt nails down into the soft skin inside his wrist. “Delacour!” He barked. “Outside!”

Gabriella shot a triumphant gaze around the room, said “any zhing you say, Ronnie,” and then sashayed out of the room.

Once they were outside Gabriella looked up at him, somehow blushing even though she was brazen as a band of harpies playing trumpets. “Oui? ‘ow can I be of service?” She asked in a low breathy voice.

“Knock it off!” Ron said, letting his rage run free. Fuck keeping his temper in check; this was ridiculous!

“What?” Gabriella said, staring at him in shock.

“Stop all this crap. Stop the fake French accent, stop sashaying, stop interrupting people, just stop all that fucking Veela crap or I will toss you out of here on your ass!” Ron knew he was losing it, but he just couldn’t stop. If he stopped, he was going to kiss her. That would be bad. Bad bad bad. He could feel the vein in his temple start to throb.

Gabriella stared at him, one dainty eyebrow raised. Finally, in a much less cloying accent, her Veela power ebbing away, she said, “Ronald Weasley, you are much more interesting than you appear.”

Ronald heaved a sigh and said, “try not to let that get out, would you? I have a reputation to maintain.”

Gabriella smiled and the ducked her head. When she looked up again, her face was serious. “I’ll stop. Though you should know, not many men can do what you just did. Not even Bill.”

“Why? Who do it at all?” Ron asked, frowning at her.

Gabriella shrugged. After a long pause, she said, “a lot depends on this alliance working out.”

Ron stared at her and she stared back. He still wanted to fuck her. That was annoying. After a moment or so, he said, “we can tell the others this was a demonstration of just how disruptive a Veela’s powers can be.” He raised an eyebrow at her. “Can you do this in a fight?”

Her eyebrows pulled together and pain flashed across her face for just a moment before she nodded.

Ron nodded. “That could be useful.” He tipped his head at the room behind them. “Shall we?” He held his arm out to her as he did it.

Gabriella gave him a half smile and a nod.

Arm in arm, they joined the others.