Competition

“Patrizio, I told you never to come back here.” Hermione stood at the doorway in her dressing gown, her hands planted firmly on her hips as she glared at her landlord.

Patrizio merely grinned and held out an entire bouquet of flowers this time, looking pleased with himself.

Hermione sighed and took them, pulling him inside by the lapels of his coat. She shut the door behind him. “Well, we wouldn’t want anyone to see, would we?” Her frown disappeared and she smiled enticingly at Patrizio.

“No, piccola.” Patrizio bent low over Hermione’s hand and gave it a lingering kiss. Hermione laughed as she magicked the flowers into a vase and gave her full attention to Patrizio.

He grabbed her waist and pulled her tightly against him. “This is much better.” He untied the sash of her robe and studied her black lingerie-clad form, the hallway light bouncing off her curves. “You look good enough to eat.” Patrizio smirked and ran a hand down her side towards her thigh.

“You know Severus wouldn’t approve of…” The strength of Hermione’s protest was disrupted by the sudden hitch in her voice as Patrizio’s hand flexed.

“Forget zis Severus. What do I care about some ugly, greasy man? I am younger and stronger than him and I assure you,” there was a determined gleam in his eyes. “I am a much better lover.”

“Patrizio-“

“Hush, my sweet. You can talk later.” And with a mischievous glint in his eye that made Hermione laugh richly, he backed her against the wall and began to leave a methodical trail of kisses upon her neck and chest.

“NO!!”

Severus sat upright in bed, wand hand out, his shout reverberating around the stone walls of his bedroom. After realizing where he was, Severus moaned and swung his feet over the edge of the bed.

“This will not do, Severus,” he censured himself. “Not at all.”

Severus stood up and went to the bathroom to splash some water on his face. Since when was the great bat of the dungeons kept awake by dreams worthy of a lovesick adolescent?

A quick Lumos brought up the lights as he wandered into his lab. He felt an overwhelming urge to prepare some ingredients, particularly those that needed dicing, slicing, and chopping. Ingredients that he could pretend were the body parts of a particularly maddening Italian. He pulled out a sharp knife and began. His tension eased slightly with each resounding clunk of the knife upon the bench.