Repercussions

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That had gone wonderfully. He would have to send Rita Skeeter a thank-you card. Should she drop dead from shock, it would be an unexpected bonus. Severus smirked and leaned back against the counter, waiting for Hermione to return so they could cast the spell, kill whomever it summoned, and then go to her flat and fuck her into the mattress.

He could tell that focusing on anything besides that last activity was going to be difficult; the growing heat and hardness in his pants agreed with him. Closing his eyes and gritting his teeth, he took several deep breaths and forced himself to think of Hagrid sunbathing nude. It didn’t quite get him down all the way, but it took the edge off. At least, he no longer felt like his pants were two sizes too small.

He had to recall the image almost immediately when Hermione came around the corner still looking a little flushed and eminently kissable. She was carrying several sheets of parchment, on which he recognized both of their handwritings: obviously, the notes on the spell. Placing them on the counter, she moved to the door and began checking to make sure the wards would be compatible with the spell; the person, or persons, that the spell found had to be able to enter the store, or else they would just float outside and attract attention. While the thought of Flourish being repeatedly rammed into the door was an appealing one, it might cause comment by passers-by.

“All right,” she said, returning to the center of the room and looking up at him; she blushed a little when she met his eyes. It was understandable, as he was making no effort to hide the lust he was feeling, and she was obviously flustered by his open desire. It certainly wasn’t an objectionable effect to have on a lovely young woman, and he allowed himself a lingering gaze that took in her whole body. If he remembered their previous encounter correctly, her blush went down quite a ways…

Hagrid sunbathing! With oil! Rubbing it all over himself!

This could well be the longest spell ever cast.

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Hermione was finding it very difficult to focus on the spell with Severus looking at her like she was made of chocolate truffles; her knickers were absolutely soaked, and she wondered if her jeans weren’t getting a bit damp as well. It was so easy to stare into his burning black eyes and just let herself drool (mentally, of course. At least, she hoped.)

Spell, Hermione! You have to cast the spell, you silly girl! Shaking her head at her folly, she forced her gaze away from his and turned to the bookcases, touching the scorch marks with her wand. The silvery lines began to flow from the tip as moved from shelf to shelf, chanting, until she had circled the area and enclosed it. She ended the spell.

It was quite possible that she and Severus both stopped breathing as they stared at the door, though her heart was hammering so loudly it might have drowned out his breaths.

Long seconds ticked by with no sound, no indication of a suspended body hitting the door. After about a minute, Hermione felt a thickening in her throat; her stomach clenched in dread that something had gone wrong, that their experiment had been a fluke, that maybe she had done something wrong--

Thump.

The hinges twitched. Ever so slowly, the doorknob revolved, and the sound of the latch sliding out of the jamb was pure music. Pain flared in Hermione’s lip, and she tasted blood; her anxiety and bad habit were costing her, but she didn’t care as the door swung open to reveal a very angry Tiburos Flourish, struggling against the invisible bonds that held him. A curious crowd had gathered around the shop, but she only got a brief glimpse of their faces before Severus strode forward, yanked Flourish completely into the shop and slammed the door shut.

It was far more shocking than it had any right to be. She realized that she hadn’t actually expected Flourish to be the person the spell dragged in; it had always seemed more likely that some mercenary henchmen or corrupt Auror would appear at the other side of the door. Flourish was supposed to have under-the-table connections everywhere. He just didn’t seem the type to get his hands dirty.

“You know,” drawled Severus, as he turned away from the door and examined Flourish, “the sheer arrogance and idiocy of some wizards will never cease to amaze me.”

“Shut up, you greasy bastard!”

“Language, Mr. Flourish.”

“Don’t give me orders, Snape!”

Flourish had floated to the center of the circle when Severus flung him inside, where he was currently suspended in midair, glaring at the other man with pure hatred. He had not so much as glanced at Hermione yet, and she found herself irritated by this small fact. Severus was not his problem, she was, and she was damned if she wouldn’t be treated as such. Thus determined, she took two swift strides across the room, planting herself between the two wizards, wand pointing at Flourish.

“That will be enough from you, Mr. Flourish. Your guilt in the breaking into and vandalizing of my store has just been given evidence—”

“You think this is evidence, you little slut?”

Severus was next to her before she even opened her mouth to brush off the insult, his wand joining hers in its target. She looked up at him for a second and saw a snarl that she had seen once before: in the Shrieking Shack, third year, when Severus was menacing Sirius. His automatic protectiveness brought a rush of warmth to her, but she gently placed a hand on his arm and pushed it down.

“Thank you, Severus, but I can handle him.” Black eyes glared down at her for a long second, and she was worried his stubbornness wouldn’t allow him to submit to her. She needed to be the one in control right now, or Flourish would never gain any respect for her whatsoever. Finally he stepped back and lowered his wand, though he remained only a foot behind her, no doubt lurking in his most grandiose fashion. Hermione suppressed a relieved sigh. Severus Snape was not an easy wizard to deal with even when he was on your side.

“Sorry for the interruption, Mr. Flourish,” she continued, looking back at the other wizard, whose handsome face was flushed an ugly red in fury. “As I was saying, we now have evidence that implicates you in the trashing of my shop. Please do not make us waste valuable Truth Serum to get a confession from you, as waste makes Severus a bit… tetchy.” She let that idea sink in for a moment. Flourish’s eyes flicked over her shoulder and widened slightly; she got the impression Severus had just done a wizard equivalent of checking the sliding pump on a shotgun. His gaze reverted to her rapidly when she started speaking again.

“Now,” she said, when she was sure he was listening, “this is what you’re going to do so we don’t go to the Ministry and talk to my old friend Harry, who is now a full Auror and a personal friend of the Minister’s…” Rapidly she outlined the plan, watching with savage glee as Flourish’s face went white, then red as his look of outrage turned into full-fledged terror.