Not Quite Dark Magic

Raided

Hermione jumped awake to the sensation of someone plopping down on her bed. She was on her feet, wand in hand and pointed to Fred Weasley's throat before she could comprehend what was going on.

He was leant to the side, propped up on one elbow and reading a muggle magazine that had a 'teen heart throb' singer plastered on the cover. He didn't even blink as her wand prodded his jugular.

"One slicing hex and you'd be dead." She lowered her arm and pulled self consciously at her night shirt. She wasn't wearing any pants.

"I've entered your room in the middle of the night enough times to know that you always gather your bearings before attempting to kill someone." He still hadn't glanced up from the magazine, flipping through the pages nonchalantly. He made an "oooh" sound as his eyes glazed one of the articles.

Hermione's cheeks flushed, turning to her dresser in search of proper attire to hide in.

"What do you want, Fred?"

She still wasn't facing him, but the gasp of feigned hurt had her envisioning his hand placed on his chest, dramatically. She shook her head as she pulled on a pair of athletic pants.

"Can't come to you for a good shag anymore?"

She rolled her eyes, shucking her shirt over her head and pulling on a long sleeved jumper, charmed with protection spells to guard against basic slicing and bruising hexes.

"You've not come here for that in months. Did you and Angelina break up?" She kept her tone casual, but didn't turn to face him until she was sure her expression was schooled into one of complete indifference.

Fred smiled, sitting up and leaning his elbows on his knees, head tilted back in arrogance.

"Jealous, are we?"

Hermione began braiding her hair in lieu of tightening her hands into fists. Fred was too observant.

"Disappointed, mostly. I guess I'll have to cancel my dick appointment with George."

Fred's eyes narrowed. "I'd know if you were shagging my brother, Hermione. Besides, George is the one dating Angelina."

Hermione furrowed her brows. "Odd. I never could keep you two separate," she murmured before turning into her bathroom.

Fred followed her. She rolled her eyes again, making sure his gaze caught it in the mirror.

"Aren't you going to ask me why I'm here again?"

"You're here for a shag, Fred." She opened the cabinet and reached for her toothbrush.

"Impossible," he concluded. "We haven't shagged in months."

Hermione turned the sink on. "We haven't had a raid this dangerous in months."

"So?"

"So," she began, wetting the toothbrush before sticking it in her mouth, "you always come for sex right before we leave for life threatening a raid."

He raised his eyebrows. "I am not that easily read."

"You are. You're looking death in the face right now and realizing you've been avoiding all those you love in the hopes of distancing yourself in case they die, that way it hurts a bit less. You now know that's foolish and futile. You're seeking intimacy in its most potent form." She spit into the sink.

"Interesting," he mused, leaning against the door and crossing his feet. "Why do I choose you, then?"

Hermione pursed her lips and dried her hand on the towel hanging on the rack. "I've yet to figure that out."