Straight to the Point

AN: Thank you to everyone who read the first chapter and reviewed, as well as all you silent people. It was awesome to see over 100 hits on the first day this was posted. I have had a lot of things happen in real life over the past few weeks, so I'll be trying my best to post new chapters as often as possible.

Several things happened at once as the lid to the basket flew open. Michael cast a Protego charm as Hermione cast Stupefy, causing a greenish snake to fall limply over the side of the basket as another snake, this one brown, continued its escape. Casting another Stupefy, Hermione shuddered and took a step back. Michael leaned in, squinting as he examined the snakes. "Boomslangs," he breathed after a moment, running a hand through his dark hair to steady himself. "Whoever left them here must have known how deadly they are."

"Oh, I have no doubt of that," Hermione replied, still shaken. Using her wand, she levitated the snakes back into the basket, casting several locking charms on the lid. There had not been an attempt on her life in a few months, but she was not naïve enough to believe that there were not still sickeningly loyal supporters of He-Who-Bit-the-Dust out there, biding their time. The last assassination attempt had been a rather clumsily hidden Tripping Jinx lining the top of the stairs at her flat. The remaining Death Eaters were getting sloppy.

Michael noticed how pale Hermione's face was and levitated the basket himself, banishing it into the back office of Flourish and Blott's, locking the door and warding it. Walking back to the front of the store, he put an arm around Hermione, wincing as she flinched. "Come on, let's get some tea on and see if we can't figure out something about this mysterious present."

Hermione accepted the mug of tea, glad that Michael hadn't bothered with Jillian's daintier china set. Her hands were shaking as she took a sip. She couldn't help but wonder at the similarity between the snakes currently locked in Jillian's office and the ones in her dreams. They were small, and extremely hard to come by. Native to Africa, they had the deadliest venom of any snake. Whoever had left them in the store had certainly wanted her dead. It felt surreal to realize that even with Voldemort gone, there were still attempts being made on her life.

"So," Michael began, startling the witch sitting across from him. "Know anyone that would want you dead?" Hermione smiled at the weak joke and set her mug down. "Boomslangs are nasty buggers. Expensive too. You have to pay extra since they're smuggled in from Africa and all."

Hermione raised a brow at this. "Hey," Michael said defensively. "Don't look at me like that. My dad worked with the Department of Magical Creatures before he died. Taught me a lot about the nasty ones when I was little. I thought they were the best bedtime stories in the world."

Hermione smiled at the thought of a much younger Michael, staring up at his dad, pleading with big blue eyes for stories of boomslangs and manticores. "More interesting than the stories I got. All Muggle stories seem to be about princesses being rescued at just the right moment by a valiant prince. Never once heard about a princess rescuing herself." Huffing, she took a too-big gulp of tea, wincing as the liquid burned her throat and made her eyes water.

Michael laughed at that and replied, "I'm sure you're more than capable of rescuing yourself. You did help defeat Voldemort."

Hermione rolled her eyes and waved her hand as if to brush off the compliment. "Harry did more than anyone. Without him, I don't think we could have won."

Michael smirked. "Even so, I wouldn't exactly call Potter a prince." They both laughed at this. If they laughed a little too loudly and a little too long, no one could blame them. They'd just had a near-death experience, after all.

After the pair calmed down, Hermione wiped tears from her eyes. She hadn't laughed like that in a very long time. As she took another sip of her tea, she snuck a look at the man sitting across from her. He really was gorgeous with full lips, dark hair, and pretty blue eyes. He had a stillness to him, a sense of quiet that was utterly lacking in both Harry and Ron. She'd come to appreciate that quality in him over their past few months working together. She needed a calming influence in her life.

Michael hid behind his own mug, looking at Hermione out of the corner of his eye. She really was one of a kind. Brilliant, kind, and compassionate. Her warm brown eyes and halo of brown curls endeared her to him in a way he couldn't explain. As their eyes met, both looked away quickly, Hermione blushing. Michael busied himself clearing away the tea things while Hermione brushed imaginary crumbs from her blue jumper.

Clearing her throat, Hermione said, "We need to find out what we can about the snakes. Where they were purchased, by whom. I'll look through the receipts for today, see if any names jump out."

Michael nodded. "I'll Floo a few of my dad's old mates, see if they know anything about a shipment of boomslangs. I know they're dead expensive, but I'm not sure who's bringing them in these days. Someone in Knockturn, I'm sure."

Hermione agreed absentmindedly, mentally checking through the customers she'd rung up that day. No one particularly suspicious had come in, but that didn't mean anything in the Wizarding world, where potions such as Polyjuice were so readily available. Groaning, she flipped through several receipts before realizing how useless it was. If her would-be assassin had purchased something, it was certainly done with an alias or paid for with a pocketful of Galleons.

Checking her watch, she noted that it was already half past eight. Yawning, suddenly exhausted by the long day, she headed towards the back of the shop. She knew that working late into the night wouldn't get them anywhere if their heads were fogged by sleep and a need for some real food. Leaning against the doorway, she smiled as Michael's head lolled to the side. He'd fallen asleep sitting up and was now snoring quite loudly. Chuckling softly, she poked his shoulder, causing him to jolt awake.

Smiling sheepishly, he rubbed at the back of his neck before stretching. Hermione's eyes found their way drawn to the thick lines of his arms and the broad plane of his chest. She turned away, blushing. "You, uh, fell asleep. I thought that you might want to get something to eat, but I understand if you don't want to because I'm sure you're tired and-"

"Hermione, I'm starved," he cut in smoothly, tactfully not mentioning the fact that she had been babbling nervously. "Let's grab some takeout and bring it back here."

Michael helped Hermione into her cloak before turning off the lights in the store. Grinning, he pulled on his own. He was finally going on a date with Hermione. Well, sort of.

AN: Several notes on this chapter. First, oddly enough, Michael is a canon character, or at least I adopted him from canon. There was a boy in Hufflepuff during the Goblet of Fire named Summers. He was one of the boys sent to the Hospital Wing with a beard for trying to cross the Age Line. Second, I realize that the full name of the department Michael's father worked for would be the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, but I can't see anyone saying that mouthful in a normal conversation, unless it's Percy. Third, I found a wonderful picture of Tom Welling, and well, he looks a lot like I imagine Michael.

Here's the link: http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v736/Ravynys/twilightTomWelling.jpg