Who: Severus Snape What: Doing the Dark Lord's work - random Muggle attack. Where: Seven Dials, London When: Today, after work Rating/Status: PG-13 / Complete.
Severus wasn't nervous, exactly.
He was confident that he'd carry this off unseen. In a pair of tatty jeans, an overlarge T-shirt and a stained pullover, his hair shoved up under and old cap, he looked more like a filthy truant than a wizard. Seven Dials was close enough to where the Leaky sat in Charing Cross Road that the incident wouldn't escape magical notice for long, but not so near that he felt in danger of happening across anyone in robes. He was sure, too, that he'd be able to keep his name well away from all of it; he had an alibi lined up at home with his Confunded Muggle neighbor, should he need it, and the wand in his pocket was one he'd borrowed for the purpose from a near-sighted witch he'd seen stooped over a pile of change at a table in a sandwich shop. He was careful. He wasn't worried.
But he couldn't bring himself to feel anything like enthusiasm, either. He was under no illusions that anyone would actually admit to being impressed - he wasn't going to have a pat on the back from Bellatrix Black, no matter what he did, and in the end this would be more showy than actually useful. No one was likely to congratulate him. It wouldn't give him a leg up any more than all the other things he'd done to prove himself thus far. It might save him from further accusations of insufficient initiative, or whatever it had been, but that was all.
And really, he'd have much rather been back in the laboratory with Belby. It was as simple as that.
Delaying it wouldn't change anything, though. He took a few moments to watch the cars, the pedestrians, the shoppers, the theater patrons, the awkwardly inching tour bus, gargantuan and slow in the halting circle traffic. The cafe he'd been planning on hitting would make a better target - it was packed, with a line out the door - but the bus would go up in more impressive flames. There wasn't a point to any of this anyway, so surely he should attempt maximum flash instead of a truly impressive butcher's bill.
Before he could overthink it any more, Severus leaned against a lamppost and, while feigning interest in an advert plastered over a window, drew his wand from his sleeve. "Expulso," he muttered, aiming at the tall stone monument in the centre of the circle - and with a sharp, cracking blast, suddenly the air was full of chunks and shards of rock raining down onto the cars and crowds. He ducked into the nearest door frame, as though seeking protection, and waited for the shouting to die down to a frightened hum before aiming for the bus.
"Confringo."
The explosion was impressive. He stepped out into the wash of heat to send up the Dark Mark, and as soon as the initial burst of flame had cleared, there it hung, glittering and sinister - and then it was the easiest thing in the world to join the panicked stream of people flying away from the scene, to drop the wand into a storm drain a few blocks away and then to peel off from the main roads to begin his leisurely trip home.
It would have been a little more leisurely if his heart hadn't been going a mile a minute, but it calmed down quickly enough once he was safely ensconced again in his flat where, after discovering his hands weren't quite steady enough to get on with the work he'd planned to do at home, he helped himself to a few fingers of vodka and did his best to get lost in a book. He wished he felt more accomplished, really. It didn't feel like an evening particularly well-spent.