Okay, So I don't own HP. T.T;
It's okay. I still have my plotbunnies.
I was sitting at a restaurant in London watching the band set up for their Seven o'clock gig. It was six forty-seven.
I was early.
I picked a shaded corner in which to perch myself. Out of sight, out of mind. Or, that's how it seemed to be. My waiter hadn't been to refill my glass of red for twenty minutes.
This restaurant was cozy; it had atmosphere. The dining room was dark, dimly lit by chandeliers made of wire and different coloured glass with the bulbs dangling down. The windows were bare; no gaudy curtains or drapery interrupting the outside view. The patio was covered with a mesh that made the sun bearable, but allowed enough for the diner to see what all there was on the other side.
The furniture: backyard patio furniture. The plastic kind that could get broken or ruined without a major chunk of the budget missing to replace them.
I loved this place. It was eclectic and worry-free.
Almost the complete opposite of me. I sat near the band, but far enough away from the crowd, on the patio.
The breeze was perfect, the band was beginning to play, and finally, my waiter had refilled my glass.
Generously.
Jazz and blues music filled my ears. I gave myself up to it, dancing in my chair. People watched, but I didn't care; I was enjoying myself for once.
I was having a good time for me, and no one else.
Tonight was Me Time, and I wasn't going to let anyone ruin it.
I paused my dancing enough to let the band decide what to play next, and lit a cigarette. The opening notes of Little Wing played and I smiled. My night was perfect now. But of course, nothing lasts forever.
As I was dancing in my chair, once again, I noticed someone walk up to me. He asked me to dance and I accepted, barely looking at him.
All I could tell, though, once I got on the floor with him, was that 1) He was a great dancer, 2) He wore jeans and a white shirt, and 3) He was very tall. It wasn't until he told me how well I danced that I actually looked at his face.
I gasped in shock.
This was a man I hadn't seen in over eight years; a man I, and the rest of the world, presumed to be dead. I couldn't believe it but, there he was holding me, dancing with me. The eyes, the hair, that damned smirk. It was all the same as before.
"You seemed stunned, Miss Granger." He whispered silkily in my ear. I snorted.
"Can you really blame me, Professor Snape?"
OMG ITS SNAPE!
hehe...yay! please review!