Special Delivery (PG; Snarry, Eileen; 514 words): Severus is persuaded to make a "special delivery."
Severus surveyed the titles spread before him on the counter. Perhaps some of these shouldn't be shelved. Our customers might find them too Dark for their tas—
"Er, pardon me, but is that really Bascombe's Binding Enchantments?"
Fuck. Severus looked up into the eyes of Harry Potter, the last person he'd ever have expected to wander into a second-hand bookshop, hoping that his glamour would hold. "Yes, it is. A first edition," he replied, handing the book to Potter with feigned calm.
He took it and grinned. "A friend of mine's been looking for this for ages. How much?"
"A 'friend'?" Severus asked, in spite of himself. He'd heard that Potter was bent, and he didn't like the idea of anyone practising Bascombe's enchantments upon him.
Potter blushed. "Not that kind of friend, just someone who's interested in the 'magical underpinnings' of the spells."
He means Granger, Severus thought, feeling certain that, given her reportedly happy marriage to Weasley, she was interested in more than Bascombe's underpinnings. "Well, in that case, it's forty Galleons, Mr Potter."
"Forty?" Potter asked, quickly passing the book back to him.
"It is a first edition, as I said, and a rare and valuable book," Severus replied, allowing his fingers to brush Potter's.
Potter blushed more deeply. "Say, I don't suppose you'd be willing to give me a discount if, er, I took you to lunch?"
Don't be stupid, Severus, Severus thought, saying, "No."
"Oh." Potter's face fell. "Well, in that case—"
"But lunch does sound good," Severus interrupted him, in spite of his better judgment. He didn't often receive . . . invitations, and Potter's was too tempting to pass up.
Grinning, Potter replied, "Then perhaps we should 'lunch' here?"
"Merlin, you're forward," Severus said, not minding it at all.
"It's just that I'd rather you not worry about keeping up that glamour—"
"—while we got acquainted, Snape."
"How did you know?"
"I can throw off Imperius. You think a glamour's too much for me?"
Severus snorted. "I suppose not. How long have you known?"
"Long enough to have worked up an appetite, 'Mr Prince'." Potter leaned over the counter. "Shall we?"
"Call me Sebastian, Harry."
"Make me," Potter challenged.
"Fuck," Severus muttered, waking. "Always at the good part, too."
He picked his head up off the counter and pulled the letter he'd received from Potter that morning about the book from his cheek.
"No doubt you inspired my foolish little fantasy," he murmured, thinking it was just as well that Potter hadn't come into Prince and Son's Old Books. "He would see past my glamour, wouldn't he?"
Emerging from the back, his mother snorted. "Then try Polyjuice."
"A 'special delivery' might do you some good, boy."
Flushing, Severus grabbed the book and stormed from the shop before he could change his mind—without stopping to consider the need for Polyjuice, or noticing his mother pointing her wand at Potter's letter.
"Ah, a Compulsion Charm, that explains it," she murmured, smiling as she realised that it had been Potter in the shop the other day. "Good for you, boys."