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Be Careful in the Dark	By : SilentCall Category: Harry Potter > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 40145 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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- 39
Chapter 38: Losing Time

A/N: This chapter just came flying out. It was apparently ready to be written. :) Thank you for the people who keep reviewing. It's nice to know people are still reading, even if I am slower than molasses in January.

***

Hermione apparated, arriving with a crack in a dark, windy field. She dropped low, wand extended in front of her, scanning the dark fiercely.

Nothing.

She straightened slowly, letting her shoulders relax though she continued to search the dark.

The moon was waning, just past the fullest moment in its cycle. The cool, chilly light splashed across the rustling grass. About a quarter of a mile in the distance, she could see the bright yellow lights the muggles put up to light Stonehenge at night. The weary part of her quietly scoffed at how ridiculous it was that they were going to do this here, at this *tourist* attraction. The part of her that never recovered from that first moment she realized magic was real squealed excitedly. Hermione grinned, sharp and tight, and stepped forward, holding the charm around her neck up and muttering a password. The world shimmered and she stepped forward quickly, blinking rapidly. Ahead of her, she could see the glimmer of wand light.

She crossed the rough terrain as quickly as she could. Hermione paused at the edge of the light, looking the scene over. The Ladies of the Lake were moving purposefully, strides firm and unwavering. Their white robes gleamed in the light. One of the robed figures turned and Hermione realized with a start that one of the Ladies was, in fact, a man. She didn’t know it was possible for a man to join the order. She looked at the figures, cocking her head. They all walked the same, except for three off to the side: a woman who was sitting on a chair to one side of the circle and two people standing behind her. She was ancient, at least two hundred, with long white hair. She was blindfolded. Hermione wasn’t sure she had every seen a wizard so old. It seemed likely that this was the Kelless of the Ladies of the Lake, the order’s leader.

Behind the Kelless and to the right stood a hard looking woman in her 50’s. Her face was square and her stance was angry. Her mouth was nothing more than a flat, vertical line of disapproval. On the other side of the Kelless stood a woman who couldn’t be much older than Hermione. Her hair was braided in tight cornrows and her face was narrow and sharp. The younger woman’s eyes flicked around the circle, as if she were memorizing what was going on. Her eyes scanned over Hermione, away and then back again. The young woman stared at Hermione. The woman’s white cowl whipped in her eyes and she pushed it back roughly.

Hermione raised an eyebrow at the young novice and the deliberately looked away. She could feel the other woman’s eyes burning into her neck. Hermione found Harry and Ron, tucked in another pool of shadow, talking quietly and urgently. She looked at them for a moment, letting herself really see them. Gods, they were so young. She knew she was too, but she felt old.

The locket sat, gleaming on a pedestal. It looked ordinary, but Hermione had to suppress a shudder. That thing held a piece of Voldie-butt’s soul. A slice of his soul he’d grafted to an inanimate object using the power harvested from murdering someone. Her heart burned in her chest. It was so hard to keep a hold of hope in the face of something like that. She didn’t know why, but looking into the face of Tom Riddle’s ambition was profoundly terrifying.

“Seven of them will die,” said a low, husky voice.

Hermione whirled, pulled a gun rapidly from her lower back holster with her left hand. Her right tilted her wand aggressively upwards.

The novice stepped closer to the light, hands held upright. “Peace, Ms. Granger. Peace.”

Hermione flickered her eyes over to one side, to make sure the woman was gone from her place. She was. Hermione put both her weapons away and bowed her head. “My apologies.”

The woman smiled, her teeth white against her skin. “Surely you aren’t always this formal, Ms. Granger.”

“Do I know you?” Hermione asked, certain the answer was no.

“No. Do you want to know the secret of the Ladies of the Lake? How we come to be chosen?” The woman took another step forward until she was standing next to Hermione, their toes just touching the light from the center of the circle.

“No.” Hermione replied promptly. If this was a lead up to a recruitment spiel, this woman could sit and spin.

The woman’s lip twisted. “Too bad. At some point in our lives, each one of us is gifted with the knowledge of our fate. Our fate is always service.” She twisted the word “gift” around in her mouth, as if it tasted bitter. She paused, throat working.

“Why are you telling me this?” Hermione asked, puzzled. There was no reason to pass along the secrets of the order. There was no reason for her to know this.

“The others know that this is their fate. They say they are ready. They did not know how, but they knew a woman would carry their fate to them. You, Hermione Granger.” The woman said this with no inflection, her eyes gazing at her fellow order members.

Hermione’s mind froze. She looked around her, shaking her head imperceptibly. She’d done this research at the behest of Dumbledore, for Harry. How could this be her burden to carry?

“If he had sent anyone else, they would have failed.” The novice answered the unspoken, her voice was soft but certain.

“You can’t know that.” Hermione kept her voice low, but it was a struggle.

“I can. I see more than most. More than the Kelless, even. I know my fate. I know yours too, or parts of it.” The novice said. Then she hissed. “I hate my fate. I hate it. The Kelless will die. So will Anywyn. And then it will just be me. I will be alone.”

Hermione said nothing. She just shook her head over and over.

The novice stepped forward. “Yes. Yes!” Her words were an urgent whisper. She grabbed Hermione’s arm. “And if you do not help me, if you do not, then I will die alone. The Ladies of the Lake will be gone. The world will be that much darker. You will do this!”

“Do what?” Hermione snarled back, not caring if anyone heard her.

The woman glanced around and tugged Hermione further into the dark. “We're in a dark moment and it is hard to See. But if we get clear of this, that creature,” the novice jerked her head towards the locket, “then I will come to you. After everyone is gone, I will come to you and you will find me novices. Seven of them.”

The number resonated in Hermione’s brain. “You said seven of them die. Were you talking about them?” Hermione tilted her head at the Ladies of the Lake gathering in the center of the stones.

The woman dropped her hand and stepped back. She jerked her head up and down once. “They are the lucky ones.” Her voice trembled.

“Lucky?” Hermione felt like a dolt, repeating the words the other woman said. Nothing made sense.

“Lucky.” The novice said firmly. “The others will fall into a sleep that will last decades, until they are needed again. Their families will be gone. Everyone they know will be gone. They will suffer.”

“Why would they do that?” Hermione whispered. It seemed like madness.

The woman rolled her eyes and sneered at Hermione. “If you knew without a shadow of a doubt that your death, your suffering, would push the word through a dark place, that thousands or hundreds of thousands or millions would lead a better, less ugly, less violent life… you would turn away from that death?” The woman snorted. “All I’m asking for is three years.”

Hermione felt the weight of the burden settled around her neck. She slumped her shoulders.

The woman sighed. “Good. Good. My name is Coraline. Believe it or not, Hermione, someday we will be friends.”

In the circle, Dumbledore clapped his hands. “Ladies, are you ready?”

Hermione closed her eyes for a moment and then turned towards him.

***

Hermione opened the lock of the lab and staggered in. With trembling fingers, she lifted her wand and flicked the spell for the lights on. She gasped as pain flared through her; her magical reservoirs were dangerously low.

With a frown, she brushed at the soot on her arm. At least her skin and clothes were no longer smoking. She and thirteen other Members of the Order had held a circle around the Ladies of the Lake, insuring no dangerous magic escaped. She’d stood there, magic igniting around and through her, and watched as one Lady after another dropped. They didn’t know until after it was all done which ones lived and died. Just before the last Lady dropped, the locket sizzled and melted. The destruction of Voldemort’s soul roared through the shield, nearly killing them all.

She looked around, blinking slowly. Hermione tugged her jacket off her body, frowning as one sleeve got stuck. Once she got loose, the coat fell from her nerveless fingers. Maybe I shouldn’t have told Harry and Ron that I was fine. Maybe I should stop lying my ass off.

She sighed and bent over to unlace a boot. The world spun and she flung one hand out to stop her fall. Hermione crawled slowly towards the wall. Once she could brace her back against the wall, she began picking at her bootlaces again.

She heard a soft scrape of cloth against the floor and her heart rate skyrocketed. Hermione snatched her wand up off the floor and pulled her gun.

“Please do not kill me, Ms. Granger.” Severus’ voice purred at her. She couldn’t see him; he must be near the entrance, around the corner.

“Severus?” Hermione croaked. “What are you doing here?” She snicked the gun back into its holster as Severus walked around the corner.

“I could ask you the same.” Severus glared down at her, looking tall and imposing from her seated position.

Hermione blinked at him.

“Or are you too lazy to disarm the alarm spell?” Severus curled a lip at her, his arms locked behind his back.

The bloody bastard of an alarm spell. Hermione closed her eyes for a moment. “I’m sorry, Severus. I am. I… I forgot.” When she opened her eyes, Severus was squatting a couple of feet away, staring at her.

Jesus, I’m losing time, Hermione thought wildly.

“Hermione, why aren’t you at home?” Severus asked, stiff and blank. She knew he wanted to ask her what happened. She could see it on his face.

Why aren’t I home? What a good question. Hermione look around. The lab was brightly lit, the edges of the table clean and strong. Going home at felt… terrifying. Constricting. “Because this is where I feel safe,” she said finally.

Severus’ eyebrows shot up and he opened his mouth to ask her a question.

Hermione held up a hand. “I can’t tell you. It could get you killed by accident and I can’t tell you. I can’t.” She scrubbed at her eyes, willing the tears away. The number seven whispered at her from the corners of her mind. Seven. Her choices had killed seven people. That they had chosen their death, sacrificed themselves willing, helped, but only a little. The tears started leaking out more rapidly and she choked a little bit, trying to breath. Rubbing the back of hand against her nose, she hiccuped in grief. “I feel like shit, Sev… hic…Sev… hic… Sev.”

She bent her back, tucking her head against her knees. Hermione didn’t want to look at Severus, didn’t want to know what his face looked like. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. The tears slid down her cheeks in a hot rush.

“Come on, Granger, put your arm around my neck.” Severus voice was close.

Hermione jerked her head up to find his face mere inches from hers. She wondered what would happen if his precious Hermione kissed him full on the mouth. Hermione dropped her eyes. Severus was smart and he’d know Hermione and Shadow were the same person three seconds into the kiss, that’s what would happen. She lifted one arm and wrapped it around his neck.

Severus helped her to her feet and they weaved drunkenly across the floor. Severus had created a bed while she wasn’t looking. I’m such a mess. Why didn’t I ask for an escort home?

The bed was already turned down and Hermione sank down gratefully. She sat there, watching Severus move around the room. He knelt and finished unlacing her shoes. He tugged them off, dropping them by the side of the bed. She felt unable to move, either to lie down or get up. After a few minutes, she realized Severus had unbuttoned his jacket and was now in a white button down top. He was unbuttoning his cuffs and rolling the sleeves up. She stared at his forearms, watching the muscles knot under the skin.

“You’re staying?” She blurted, her mind finally catching up with what was happening.

Severus paused. “You think you should be alone?” He sounded surprised.

Hermione thought about it for a moment. “No. I just didn’t think you’d stay.”

Severus shrugged one shoulder. After a moment, he flicked his wand at her and Hermione giggled helplessly as a small scrubbing wind cleaned her. She cried a little, too, because everything hurt. She sat there, as Severus walked around to the other side of the bed and stretched out on the bed. She rotated her body to look at him, pausing to stare at his feet. His toes were so long. Monkey toes.

“I beg your pardon!” Severus said, toes curling self-consciously. With a snap of his wrist, the lights went out.

Hermione realized she’d said that last part out loud. “Don’t worry, Snape, your toes are cute.”

“That is worse! Lay down and go to sleep, you mad little girl!” Severus voice bit out in the darkness.

Hermione curled one side of her mouth and forced herself to move. She stretched out and then, with great effort, wriggled across the bed until she was next to Severus. She poked his arm a couple of times before he gave in and lifted his arm so she could snuggle up next to his side.

She could feel tension jumping under his skin, but he was warm and smelled wonderful.

“Does it always have to be this way? Do you always have to be mean?” She asked, fighting the tug of sleep at the edges of her vision.

Severus was silent for a while and Hermione was losing the battle with sleep. Eventually he said, voice empty and cold, “yes.”

“Bummer.” Hermione muttered into his chest.

His fingers tightening on her shoulder was the last thing she remembered before sleep claimed her.
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Be Careful in the Dark