Good Deeds

Chapter 3 - Every Little Thing...

By Ehann

ZZ stood in the corner of Dumbledore’s office. The Agent just Watched the Headmaster do Paperwork for and Earth hour.

Without looking up the Headmaster said, “I’d Appreciate it, if you’d show yourself.” He put down his quill and squinted over the top of his spectacles. “Well?” His voice carried an Underlying Threat.

Grinning, ZZ showed himself. “Albus, it’s been a Long Time. How’ve you been?”

The Headmaster snorted. “I’d be a lot better if you didn’t insist on trying to Scare Me To Death, popping in my office that way. What brings you to these parts? I Assume it’s not a social call.” He steepled his fingers together and peered at the Agent.

ZZ plopped himself in the chair in front of Dumbledore’s desk. “Well, Albus, here’s the Situation. You have a Cranky, Ugly, Sort of Honorable and Great in Bed teacher working for you—What’s His Name—Snape.”

Dumbledore blinked slowly. “I’ve never heard him Described Quite That Way, but yes. Professor Snape teaches Potions for us.” His blue eyes were just starting to Twinkle. “What about him?”

“He’s a lucky, fella, you know. The Conglomerate’s given him the Good Deed of True Love.” ZZ puffed out his chest, feeling important.

“True Love,” Albus repeated. “Fascinating. Who is the Lucky Woman?” He pulled out the middle drawer in his desk and found the tin of Lemon Drops. Popping one in his mouth, the Headmaster offered the tin to ZZ.

ZZ palmed a candy. “The name ‘Granger’ ring a bell?”

The Headmaster choked. Swallowing hard, he managed to clear his throat of the obstruction before he Lost Consciousness. “Pardon me, I believe I misheard. Do you mean Hermione Granger?” Albus certainly looked Incredulous.

The Agent grinned cheerfully. “We’ve researched it. She’s Perfect for him.”

Albus narrowed his eyes. “If you say so.” He took a slow deep breath. “This will not be an easy case. Professor Snape is a Very Private Person. And—while Miss Granger is certainly a lovely and talented girl—I can not help thinking that, well, perhaps someone Her Own Age would be better suited to her.”

ZZ waved his hand. “Don’t worry about it. Honestly, Albus, it’s Under Control. Everyone will have a Happy Ending, I Promise. Heck, I’ll even make it a Good Deed, if you want.”

Gravely the Headmaster nodded.

“Officially,” ZZ said, “I grant Snape and Granger a Happy Ending Together.” The air shimmered Silver and the Firmament seemed to whisper It Shall Be So.

Mollified, the Headmaster relaxed a bit. “Very well. I feel Better about this already.”

ZZ was pleased. “And just to show my Sincere Appreciation, Albus, I have these for you.” He pulled a rectangular Yellow box from the ether, and passed it to the Headmaster.

Albus inspected it carefully. The lettering on the outside announced, ‘Mallomars.’ “May I?” he asked.

The Agent gestured his assent. ZZ watched. At the first bite, a look of Ecstasy appeared on the Headmaster’s face. The Old Man’s eyes closed and he swallowed the candy.

“Good, huh?”

“Mmmff.” His mouth was full.

“Listen, Albus, the Conglomerate voted and we’re gonna use the Danger as Aphrodisiac Pretext on these crazy kids. Except, we’re not really gonna put them in Danger. They’ll just think they are. So, The Plan is that they’ll need to stay in the Dungeons Together to be Safe.

“But this is where You Come In, Albus. We need to you send Snape a Note explaining that—I don’t know, Make Something Up—He needs to fetch Granger At Once, or they’re both Dead. Think that’s Doable?”

“Hmm. I believe Miss Granger has just Graduated from University. I think she’s Vacationing in the States with Mssrs. Potter and Weasley.”

ZZ perked up. “How’s Potter doing? He’s giving his Agent, fits, let me tell you. She’ll be right glad after he finally, well, Never Mind. That’s Neither Here Nor There.”

“I have a Question,” Albus announced. “Once they are, er, Safely Ensconced in the Dungeons,” he smiled. “What are they Supposed To Be Doing to Keep Busy?”

ZZ merely smiled enigmatically, and the Headmaster looked away, flushing slightly.

“Oh.”

~~~~~~~~~~

If he had the Headmaster in front of him, Severus Snape felt he would honestly be Moved to Violence.  Happily imagining wringing the Old Man’s neck, Snape was sitting at a smoky bar watching men and women barely out of their teens writhe and grind on the dance floor. Snape wondered briefly if they were all on some sort of Hallucinogenic drug. Judging from the self satisfied looks on their faces, Severus wished he had some for himself. That was perhaps the only thing that would improve his current mood.

He could not prove anything to be sure, but still, there was this niggling feeling at the pit of his stomach. It tickled and teased and told him that he was being manipulated. Severus was a man who hated many things. Being manipulated was among the those at the top of the list. He picked up his drink—scotch, neat—and slipped unnoticed to a rather smoky corner, to watch the dancers.

Gods! How could they even call it dancing? More like Sex in a bottle…the way the woman  touched and slithered all over their partners…Well, it made Snape briefly wonder why his youth had not been spent like this instead of out participating in Death Eater Festivities. Some guys have all the luck, he thought darkly.

And the music….was God-awful! Some reedy voiced girl was whinging about things being complicated…it was God awful and Severus was pretty sure that he’d be hearing it in his head for weeks if not months after this debacle.

I’m going to kill the Headmaster. It’s not a question of if, it’s a question of when and how. But I’m going to kill him and leave his body for the vultures, that much is certain.

He tilted his head back, draining the scotch and deliberately dropped his glass on the floor, shattering it. Not a soul noticed. Figured. Severus circled the dance floor like a cat stalking prey. His eyes jumped from person to person, trying to see if he could spot Granger anywhere. He finally located her, not by discovering her, ironically, but by spying a messy black head and the flash of strobe lighting on glasses.

Potter.

Snape suddenly realized that Potter’s dance partner, the woman grinding her hips into him and clutching his shoulders, with her head thrown back in –Gods! That was not-so-innocent Miss Granger all over the Boy Who Lived. They looked like they were fucking themselves into oblivion right on the dance floor. Snape set his jaw. He would deal with this, but damn it, he needed another drink first.

~~~~~~~~~~

Hermione was drunk. It had happened accidentally, of course. It was easy to drink in this little beach town where the kids her age walked around barefoot and in bathing suits twenty-four-seven. It was easy to drink knowing that she looked hot with her summer tan, and it was easy to drink knowing that her two friends were looking out for her.

She had graduated a few weeks ago, and she was taking this chance in her life to cut loose for once. Books, be damned; she’d spent enough time with them. It was a heady thing, to discover that when she danced, the boys flocked to her like moths to the flame. It had been difficult to let go at first. She knew she could dance of course—she had spent a good part of her teenage summers listening to Muggle music and dancing in her bathroom late at night. A few drinks had relaxed her inhibitions enough to allow her to dance the way she did at home and from there it was history.

At one point, she danced with a huge black man, with muscles out to here and the most gorgeous chest she’d ever seen. He had lifted her clear off her feet with her legs wrapped around his waist. Hermione smiled, remembering the way her nails were digging into his thick muscles. God, he was yummy.

She pulled herself away from Harry, positively dying of thirst. Wiping the sweat from her face she ordered an ice water, smiling brilliantly at the bartender. He handed her the glass—it was slippery from condensation—and she checked her unfamiliar American money. She counted out three singles and slipped them into his hand. The bartender’s eyes dropped down to her cleavage—she was wearing a sun-flowered bikini, which left very little to the imagination. It did, however, have a push up bra built right in. That plus the short shorts made her blend right in. She didn’t know about Harry and Ron but as for herself, she loved America.

Hermione put the cold glass to her throat, sighing in pleasure at the sensation. She turned away from the bar and spent some time people watching. That was part of the fun about visiting the States. She’d never seen so many different types of people in one place before. She ran her eyes over the man in the corner. He was dark and looked broody. The shadows set his cheekbones into sharp relief. His shirt sleeves came down to his elbows and the skin from there to his fingertips was quite tanned. She could even see from her the way the veins in his arms ran up his arms, disappearing into his blue shirt. Letting her eyes wander, she noticed that he was dressed in jeans and construction boots. He turned his head and she saw how his black hair was pulled into a queue lying against his neck.

A group of boys chose that moment to stop and have a conversation, completely blocking her view. Irritated, Hermione pushed off the bar and slipped through the crowd, trying to catch sight of Mr.Tall, Dark, and Sexy. Ah! There he was. He’d found a seat at one of the tiny tables. Hermione unobtrusively adjusted her cleavage, and walked across the bar, but not just walking…

She was moving to the music, and her hips shifted with each step. It was the walk of a confidant woman, the walk of a woman who knew exactly what she had and had nothing to hide.

She came up from behind him and smoothly laid a hand on the back of the stool opposite his. “Is this seat taken?” He glanced up at her, startled and when she saw the all-too-familiar black eyes looking back at her, Hermione inhaled sharply. “Snape,” she breathed.

But he didn’t seem surprised to see her at all. In fact—he wore a smile that was completely unamused—just the opposite. “Miss Granger,” he greeted her calmly, as if they’d met in the Great Hall having just bumped into one another.

Had Hermione been totally sober, she might have been appalled at this change in circumstance. She might have been embarrassed at her lack of attire, or the fact that her belly button was at his eye level and that he had most definitely noticed. She might have been ashamed of the fact that she had mentally undressed one of her most hated teachers. But she was not, in fact, sober and so she felt none of those things. What she did feel was very, very horny.

“Hey, sexy,” she said cheerfully.

His eyes flared for an instant. Then his brows lowered. “I suggest you wipe that expression off your face, Miss Granger, and take a seat. I have been sent by Dumbledore—”

“Whatever. You want to dance?” She jerked her head at the dance floor.

Involuntarily, Snape’s eyes followed hers to the grinding bodies. Clenching his jaw, he ground out, “No, I most certainly do not.”

Hermione licked her lips. “Shame. Sure you don’t want to reconsider?” She leaned forward to whisper in his ear. “You look pretty good all cleaned up. And I’ll bet that you’re amazing on a dance floor.” Her lips brushed his earlobe and she felt his shiver. The six Sea Breezes she’d downed had her brain buzzing and all the nerves in her body thrumming with awareness. “I know I am,” she added, for good measure.

Snape looked like he was ready to explode. Strangely, this did nothing to stem the tide of lust she was suffering with. It was alcohol induced, she figured, but why not enjoy it? Then he was out of his chair, lightning quick, with his hands wrapped around her wrist. “What sort of game are you playing at?” he demanded.

Hermione shook her head. He wasn’t exactly hurting her, but it was close. She shifted, bringing one leg between his, and leaning forward. Her thigh brushed against his crotch. “Please? One dance? I’ll never tell.” She wheedled.

She lost her balance and nearly fell over. Snape steadied her with a hand at the small of her back. “One dance. Then we go.” He sounded aggrieved, but led her out to the small hardwood floor.

~~~~~~~~~~

ZZ snapped his fingers, and the music shifted. Michelle Branch faded into the Police. Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic. Take that, Cranky. Show her what you’ve got. Shake your Groove Thing.

~~~~~~~~~~

Snape found the music nearly irresistible. He had never heard anything like it, preferring to listen to classical composers. But—This…this ….was….

Glorious sound and harmony and engaging rhythm, so much so that before he quite knew what he was doing, he was swinging Hermione about the dance floor, whirling her until she was dizzy and clutching at him, laughing, her head tilted back, her throat exposed. She wrapped one leg around his hip and shimmied, forcing him to bend his knees, swaying his hips, moving with her, in a strange parody of mating. Her every move brought friction exactly where he wanted it, brought her breasts rubbing against his chest. Her hands tangled in his hair and her lips were centimeters from his…Everything she did felt wonderful…

Every little thing she does is magic, every little thing just turns me on…But my silent fears have gripped me and before I reach the phone, and before my tongue has tripped me, must I always be alone…

~~~~~~~~~~~

ZZ watched Snape come to his senses as soon as the music ended. Interesting. Mr. Cranky had surprisingly few defenses against music. Brought all his walls down to the point that he had been hanging on to Granger for Dear Life. And speaking of Granger, Miss Brainy, seemed like she had crossed over to the Dark Side of Sensual Living and was enjoying it quite a bit. ZZ shrugged. Perhaps this wasn’t going to be such a tough assignment after all. Ha! Maybe he should just make them watch Moulin Rouge together. Be pretty Funny if That Was That.

Chapter 4 >>