A Working Relationship

Rosmerta's cool, nutty ale was just the thing to drink while reflecting on an interesting afternoon, and the Three Broomsticks was in the middle of its afternoon lull, providing Severus with the perfect place to sit and go over the events of the past hour. Propping his elbows on the bar and steepling his fingers, he stared at the wall and thought.

It had not been the most awkward afternoon of sex Severus had ever had, but it was probably a close third. The back and forth play of seduction had been most enjoyable, as had the following exploration of her body, but the girl had been so damn hesitant about the whole thing that it was rather tainted in his mind. She had wanted him--of that he was certain--but it was still unnerving, the way she had behaved; she had all but fled from the bedroom when they were done.

Well, if Severus Snape knew anything, it was when he was no longer wanted; it was something he had ample practice in perceiving. Either her lust had been satisfied to the point where she no longer desired him, or she was trying to figure out how to handle the aftermath of their activities, but his presence had no longer been required or wanted at that flat. He had completed the task set for him--not that it had been a tedious task, by any means--and had therefore been set free to do as he wished.

It had been rather generous of him, Severus thought as he sipped his ale, to actually tell her the spell, book, and author; he was not given to acts of altruistic aid, though the very satisfying orgasm he had minutes before probably had something to do with it. The spell he had given her would work perfectly for her needs. Both of them knew that Flourish had instigated the ransacking of her shop; however, more substantial proof would be needed if legal action were to be taken, and the spell was created to provide such evidence.

A grace period of a few days was what she needed to deal with her feelings about the afternoon's activities, he was sure, as well as locate the book in the disaster area that her shop currently was. He decided to return to her shop on Wednesday; if he was lucky, something else would have upset her enough that she would require some more "comforting." Knocking back the rest of his ale, Severus slid off the barstool and made his way outside so he could Apparate home.

Stepping out into the warm summer afternoon, Severus noticed that the shop across from the Three Broomsticks, the small Hogsmeade bookshop, was boarded up and bore a sign: "Under new ownership--Flourish and Blotts coming soon!" Apparently, Flourish was expanding the family business. He spent a moment speculating about whether the previous owners had given up their business willingly and considered it unlikely. Well, he thought as he spun around and vanished, he couldn't help every small bookstore in the wizarding world; besides, few of them would come with the perks that Words, Words, Words had thus far provided.

After two days spent at home, polishing off the last of his purchases (one book about undetectable poisons and a play called As You Like It, which he was enjoying more than he would admit), Severus decided to go and see whether Hermione had managed to find the spell and whether she was planning on using it. When he arrived in Diagon Alley, he made his way to her shop and was pleased to find the sign read "Open." The bell on the door jangled in its usual irritating manner when he entered, but no Hermione appeared from between the shelves to greet a new customer, nor was she behind the front desk. The store had been rehabilitated: the shelves were once again upright and arranged in narrow aisles, and no books littered the floor; in fact, the only evidence that the store had been ransacked were the splinters and gouges in the wood of the bookcases, along with a few marks in the floor. It was a remarkable job, which made him wonder exactly how she had managed it, since he knew she wouldn't use magic around the books and Muggle labor would haven taken longer.

The answer came around the corner of one of the aisles a second later, bat-like ears perked in greeting. Severus had been acquainted with the Malfoy's house-elf for quite some time, so it was no surprise when it whirled around and vanished back into the aisle. He smirked; Dobby had always been leery of him, as he was not known to be fond of house-elves, though he did not go out of his way to abuse them the way the Malfoys did. Once, when the creature was being particularly irritating, he had mentioned that house-elf ears were an ingredient in a very difficult potion that he had wanted to experiment with for some time; stupid as the elf was, it had got the hint and made itself scarce. Still, the little creature had its uses, as was elucidated by the restored bookstore: elf magic was different enough from wizard magic that it would have been safe to use it around the books.

Hermione appeared a moment later, coming around the same aisle with Dobby trailing behind her like the world's most pathetic--and ugliest--puppy. She looked rather harried.

"Mistress Hermione told Dobby to tell her if Professor Snape sir came in, and here he is, Miss!" Dobby babbled, clearly ecstatic at having completed a task set for him.

Hermione blushed slightly and said, "Yes, thank you, Dobby. You can go back to Hogwarts now, if you like; you've done a very good job." It sounded as though she'd been trying to persuade the little creature to leave for some time; there was a hint of desperation in her tone.

"But Dobby doesn't want to go back, miss, as Miss Hermione is paying Dobby so handsomely for not so very much work. What can Dobby do, miss?" The elf's green eyes bulged out of his face as he stared pleadingly up at her, clutching the rim of its lumpy knit hat in anticipation.

"Well," she said, biting her lip in thought for a moment, "you could go back to Hogwarts and get me a bit of lunch, if you like. Not too much!" she added hastily as the elf nodded happily and vanished with a sound like a whip. She stared at the spot he had been for a second before saying, half to herself, "Whatever makes him happy, I suppose... I do hope he doesn't bring back a whole turkey." Shaking her head, she turned to Severus, and he saw the kind expression she had used for the elf abruptly morph into one of irritation; somewhere in her seven years at Hogwarts, she had picked up Minerva's ability to turn her lips into a straightedge.

"I found the book," she stated. "And the spell."

"Don't thank me; I'll blush," he replied. There was something very odd about her expression and tone; he detected no gratitude in either, but rather, a great deal of hostility.

His quip earned him a narrow-eyed look and an about-face that would have made the most maniacal drill instructor proud. Practically stamping on the floor, Hermione went around the desk and retrieved a book--Magick Judicio, if he remembered the cover correctly--from underneath it. The offending tome was placed upon the table and opened to a marked page, all in terminal silence; she considered it for a moment, studying the page intently before looking back up at him with a blank expression. Too blank.

"I thought you didn't hate me, Severus. I thought you might even like me a little bit, enough to acquiesce to sleeping with me, anyway. I thought you enjoyed my little shop and didn't want it shut down." Her voice was as placid and bland as her expression, which set off every warning bell in his head. Severus gave a cautious nod, not quite sure what she was playing at.

"Then why," she said, the blandness rapidly diminishing into anger, "why did you recommend a spell to me that could get me five years in Azkaban?"

Ah. "You should have learned not to take my advice anymore."

"This spell is Dark Magic, and yet you recommend it to me as easily as I would recommend shampoo to you!"

"You must concede that it would work for your situation, though," he pointed out, crossing his arms and choosing to ignore the shampoo remark--or, rather, storing it away in his memory if he ever needed an example of her being rude to him. Such anecdotes could be useful, especially with anyone inclined to feel guilty. "Besides, as the targets of the spell would be people who knew of or participated in the ransacking of your shop, I wouldn't think that you would care too much for their well-being."

"Their well-being? People get Splinched with this spell!" Clearly, his suggestion was not being taken well. The now-familiar shrillness in her voice was beginning to make itself known as she rebuked him; when a strand of hair fell into her face, she brushed it away so forcefully that she nearly slapped herself across the forehead.

Well, if she didn't want his help, he didn't have to stand around and be yelled at. "I merely recommended it, Miss Granger; if you don't want to use it, fine." He turned to go and was halfway to the door when her next words stopped him.

"Help me alter it, then, Severus. It can work the way I need it to, but it has to be changed first and I'm... not good at altering spells, particularly ones of this nature."

This was an interesting turn of events. He considered it for a moment, staring at the wall of books in front of him, making her wait for a reply. It had cost her to admit to being unskilled at something involving magic, he could tell, but evidently her needs had overturned her pride. His own pride told him not to go back and help her; she had already shown him what she thought of his ideas. On the other hand, having her so deeply in his debt could prove extremely useful, if he played his cards right; when he further considered the possibilities that implied, he decided to give her what she wanted.

"Well? Will you or won't you?" Apparently, her patience only extended so far; the bossiness in her voice was back.

Severus turned back to her, smirking, and replied, "I was merely waiting to see if the world was going to come crashing down about my ears after hearing you confess to inability in any subject." The familiar blush of rage colored her cheeks, and he hastily spoke again before she could begin some new tirade. "What is to be my compensation for this task?"

"Er... I don't have much money," she started, nervously running a hand through her bushy hair while her teeth restarted their chewing of her lip, which was starting to look a bit swollen from the constant mastication.

"The house-elf said you were paying it 'handsomely'."

"That's 'him,' not 'it,' and 'handsomely' for Dobby means five galleons and three pairs of mismatched socks. I trust you'll want something different."

Nodding, he moved forward, studying the young woman's reactions as he neared; her nervous idiosyncrasies intensified a bit, with the addition of her being remarkably interested in the wood of the desk. Was it possible, he wondered, that she still lusted after him? If she did, it could be a marvelous ace-in-the-hole for him, a means of influence that could be most rewarding. Perhaps an experiment was needed to test this theory.

"No, you're quite right. You can pay me in something far more precious than money," he murmured, modulating his tone to be as smooth and silky as possible; he saw her inhalations increase in rapidity, and he continued. "Something more unique, more personal, that I feel I can only get from you." He was only a foot away from her now, and she looked up, a light of hope in her eyes that made the wicked side of him dance with glee.

"Yes?" she breathed. "What is it?"

Leaning closer until he was practically nose to nose with her, close enough to feel her breath on his face, he said, "Books."

* * *

It could not be possible. Hermione stared back at Snape, trying to find some hint of a joke in those black eyes, but they were as unreadable as ever. How could he say what he had just said in those tones that dripped seduction, while he leaned in like he was about to kiss her, and then tell her he meant books?

She had thought that one round of sex with her former Potions master would satisfy her lust for him, but instead it had intensified; the one, rather brief experience had piqued her curiosity. Irritation at his behavior had overwhelmed her desire for a day, but when he came striding back into her store, she felt her knees go a bit weak, although she was proud of herself for concealing it with anger at his spell suggestion. Of course, that had only worked until he started talking about "compensation," at which point the wet heat between her legs reasserted itself. Admit it, girl--you wanted him to mean something besides books.

Realizing that she was probably gaping at him like a Weasley staring at a Veela, Hermione pulled her gaze away from his eyes and back down to her desk as she stammered, "B-books, Severus? In what way should I pay you in books?"

Blessedly, he turned away from her, waving a hand to take in the small store. "I was thinking along the lines of a book or two per day of my assisting you."

Now, she might be addled with lust, but Hermione Granger was not about to let the Head of Slytherin House make an open-ended deal like that. Putting her hands on her hips, she gave him the same reprimanding look she had used on the boys when they tried to beg off of homework. "And how many obstacles would you invent to lengthen your term of employment, Severus? How much of the tapestry would you unravel each night?"

His eyes glittered, whether in disappointment or insult she couldn't tell; if it was the latter, she wouldn't have much time to convince him to stay. She continued, thinking fast. "I'll give you unlimited access to my store, but I will keep track of anything you take home and you must return it once we're done." She already had a means of tracking her wares once they left the store, so it would be easy enough to make sure nothing got left at... wherever he lived.

The man considered that for a moment and then nodded in apparent satisfaction. "Done." A long arm was extended towards her, and she reached out to shake the long-fingered hand; his grip was firm without being overpowering, and she could feel the calluses that spoke of hard work on his palm and fingers. Trying to ignore the new heat that spread through her at his touch, Hermione dropped his hand and ran hers through her hair, smiling a little nervously.

"Would you like to start now?" she asked. "Dobby will be back with food soon, and he'll bring enough for five people, so if you want lunch..." Hermione shrugged a little, hoping to indicate that she didn't care one way or the other if he stayed or not; it was a bit late to start pretending not to fancy him, but hopefully she could salvage what was left of her dignity. Snape jerked his head in curt assent; Hermione found herself smiling broadly at that and decided to give dignity up as a lost cause. Beckoning for him to follow, she scooped up the book and slipped down the aisle to her little side room, where she quickly rearranged the armchairs and side table into a configuration suited for working, not relaxing, with the chairs facing each other across the table. A careful spell made the small table taller and a bit bigger; the finished product wasn't ideal, but it would do to be going on with.

"I can see that my legs are going to be constantly cramped for the foreseeable future." She turned to find Severus in the doorway, looking at the chairs-and-table set up with disgusted resignation.

"You'll have a chance to stretch them every time I need something off a top shelf," she countered, smiling sweetly at his indignant glare before squeezing around the table to sink into her favorite armchair and look expectantly back at him. With the smallest of put-upon sighs, he mimicked her, though she couldn't help noticing, with a bit of rancor, that he had a much easier time of it than she had; he slid between the two pieces of furniture almost without touching them. Bloody thin bastard, she thought, hiding her annoyance by opening the book and studying the appropriate page.

Once he had settled into the chair and arranged his legs under the table (she told herself that his ankles rubbing against hers was simply a result of their close confines and not in any way a seduction tactic), Severus steepled his fingers and regarded her over the tips. "I'm ready when you are," he said, raising his eyebrows just enough that they hinted at a suggestive remark.

Why, you little...! It took every ounce of self-control Hermione possessed not to slap the smug look off his face when he said that; instead, she shifted in her seat and "accidentally" kicked him in the ankle, smirking when she saw him wince. It was a childish sort of revenge, but satisfying nonetheless. He glared at her, and she smiled sweetly before turning back to the book and ending their little sparring session.

"The Retriba Poss Poenic," she began, "works by tracking the magical signature of a wand and then using the bond between wand and owner--,"

"I am aware of how the spell functions, Hermione."

"Reviewing never hurt anyone," she snapped automatically, not bothering to look up at him. She was in what Ron had called "learn or die" mode and, as a result, her patience was thinner than Lavender Brown's gauze knickers.

"Do not speak to me as though I were one of your imbecilic little friends."

Exasperated, she jerked her head up to glare at him to find him glaring right back, arms crossed over his thin chest as he frowned across the table at her, black hair swinging forward to frame his black look. She had, however, been the subject of said glare numerous times, and she found its effect had weakened with repetition, so she simply replied:

"Then stop acting like a bored first-year who wants to go play Gobstones. This won't take long." From the stunned look on his face, she figured she had guaranteed his silence or his impending exeunt, so she went back to the book, hoping the lure of free books would keep him in the chair. When a lack of footsteps and some dramatic exiting line told her he was staying, she continued reading aloud.

"It uses the bond between wand and owner to bring the owner back to a location, specified by the spell's caster, by means of forced Apparition. Often, the victim of the spell will attempt to resist it, which results in Splinching. That," she said, leaning back in her chair to look at him again, "is what we must change in order for me to stay out of jail."

As she regarded him, waiting for an answer of some kind, Severus shifted in his chair, thoughtfully tracing his lips with a long finger before reaching out and seizing the book, dragging it across the small table and turning it around all in one movement. Silence prevailed as he studied the page intensely, and Hermione bit back the questions that sprang to her lips; she knew she hated it when people interrupted her reading. Instead she just watched him as he read. He was an intense and physical reader, with his hawkish nose only inches from the paper, his hair actually brushing the pages, and his finger still outlining his thin lips. He almost created a bubble of literary attention around him, and she found herself itching to pick up another book and dive into it with the same focus. She almost expected there to be a 'pop' of separation when he pulled away, which he did after several minutes so he could regard her once again.

"It will be difficult," he stated. "The incantation is very simple, which makes our job harder; there is very little material to work with, and the smallest alterations will have dramatic effects. We will have to experiment and test on ourselves--or, rather, on you, for I have no intention of risking myself for this--and it will take a copious amount of plain hard work." The eyebrow quirked up in a silent question.

Hermione had the answer. "Very well. Hard work and danger it is. But first," she said, hearing the familiar crack of Apparation in the main area of the shop, followed by the excited patter of small feet, "I think Dobby has our lunch."

It wasn't easy for her to sit and eat when there was a project to be started, especially when said project was vital to her continued employment, but Hermione also knew that her eating habits when she was engrossed in work were erratic at best and nonexistent at worst, so she forced herself to eat. It wasn't too hard; Dobby had chosen good foods for the season and weather. She and Severus worked their way through mixed-greens salad with cranberries and blue cheese, cold roast chicken, and bruschetta, with dark chocolate mouse topped with raspberries to finish it off. They ate in silence, as the table was small enough that they didn't have to ask for anything to be passed; only when Dobby had Vanished with the plates and cutlery did Hermione speak.

"I suppose I owe you thanks for agreeing to help me with this," she said, smiling a little.

"Yes, you do." He sat back with an expectant look on his face.

"Er... are you waiting for something?"

"You haven't thanked me yet."

"I just said I owed you thanks!"

"Yes, but you haven't given them to me yet."

"Ooh, you...! Fine. Thank you. Can we start now?"

"As I said before, I'm ready when you are."

If he says that once more, I will hex his bollocks off. Hermione glared at her new partner as he settled back in his chair and smirked at her. She had a feeling that reworking the spell was going to be a long, difficult process, but it was certainly going to be interesting.

And, she thought, I now have Severus Snape on my side and helping me. Flourish, say your prayers. Smiling, she opened the book and started taking notes about the Retriba Poss Poenic.