Disclaimer: The Glee-verse belongs to Ryan Murphy, the Harry Potter-verse to JK Rowling. I don't know if there is such a thing as the Pan-Atlantic Cheerleading Championships; I just pulled the name out of thin air.

Author's Notes: This is for everyone who read and reviewed "The Sylvester-Snape Wedding." That was just something I dashed off because the idea was hilarious, and it was gratifying to find that so many people liked it. I hope you enjoy this one, too :)

WHEN SEVERUS MET SUE

He had been staring at her for hours.

Sue Sylvester, multi-titled cheerleading coach, educator and woman for the ages, turned and leveled what Splits Magazine had dubbed her "patented laser glare" at the stranger. Although he was dressed all in black, the skinny, hook-nosed man didn't look at all like a member of the security for the Pan-Atlantic Cheerleading Championships; and the absence of both clipboard and headset indicated that he also wasn't part of the organizing committee. That meant he was either a Goth pedophile who got his jollies from ogling young girls in short skirts, or part of the competition.

Both were excellent reasons for her to go over and talk to him.

Her Cheerios, representing the United States, had naturally gone first in order to set the bar so high that those who followed had no hope of ever measuring up. Thus, she was perfectly free to disabuse this weirdo of the notion that any of her girls (or boys) were available for his delectation, or that his group had any chance of winning the competition.

"May I help you?" she drawled as she strode up to the man, knowing that she cut a formidable figure in one of her custom-made track suits, which that day was creamy white with red piping and patriotic stars and stripes graphics.

Instead of being intimidated as she had expected, he simply arched an eyebrow drawled back, "I beg your pardon?"

"You've been looking my way for quite some time now," Sue pointed out. "Were you wondering if I could point you to a place that sells some some proper track pants?" She glanced meaningfully at his getup, which she could now see was a lot worse than she had thought.

Severus Snape had been greatly annoyed when Albus Dumbledore had bestowed upon him the "privilege" of escorting the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry's Muggle Studies class on its first-ever field trip; and so he welcomed the opportunity to vent some of his ire on this bold, brassy American. "I am assuming that you are referring to my trousers," he said, shooting her the look of freezing scorn that he usually reserved only for the hapless souls that made mistakes in his Potions class. "The state of my pants is none of your concern."

Surprisingly, unlike the idiots he was forced to teach, his look failed to reduce the woman to a gibbering mess. "Well, whatever you call them," she replied with a roll of her eyes, "you look dreadful. If you keep going around like that at events where there's children around, you're going to start giving priests a bad name."

Despite his continued irritation, Severus gave the stranger a look of grudging respect. Not many people were able to withstand his caustic wit, let alone give as good as they got as this woman was doing now. "I don't particularly care about what people might think about priests, since I'm not one," he told her, and held out a hand. "My name is Severus Snape."

She took the offered hand and shook it with a firm, dry grip. "Sue Sylvester. My kids presented first in the competition."

"Ah, the American team." He nodded towards the stars and stripes emblazoned over her heart, his eyes lingering despite his best efforts. "Of course."

"Of course," Sue repeated. A blush threatened at the way Mr. Snape's gaze slid over her, like a strawberry protein shake down her throat on a hot summer day; she raised her chin, daring the blush to show itself. It wisely chose not to take up the challenge.

"Their performance was excellent," he told her. "You are obviously an exacting taskmistress."

His voice remained dry, but she could sense genuine praise in his words. She continued to suppress the blush, but granted him a thin smile. "I insist on perfection," she answered, "and I get it, by any means necessary."

He nodded his approval. "As well you should."

That was all anyone really needed to know about her, but Sue found herself unwilling to end the conversation just yet. "So, which team is yours?" she asked, glancing at the floor where a team from a banana republic convent school was stumbling through a routine.

"None of them," Severus said. "I teach at a local school for... shall we say... special children, and the class is here on a school trip. Besides," he added, "I don't think they would be able to compete against your protegés."

"No, you wouldn't," she agreed. There was, of course, not one iota of arrogance in her tone; just the unmistakable ring of truth.

"However, if they faced each other on another field of battle, the outcome will be very different."

Sue smirked. "You say that like it's a sure thing."

"It is."

They stared at each other for a long moment. As she gazed upon Mr. Snape's sallow, hook-nosed visage, Sue felt a tug deep inside, of a level that she experienced only when her Cheerios succeeded in breaking the sound barriers of excellence, or when she imagined ridding William Schuester of that doggone curly top by sticking him head-first in a vat of rabid rats.

Severus often saw Legilimency as a rather curse than a blessing, but in this case it was more of the latter for once. He didn't quite understand that bit about the rats, but there was one thing that was for certain — everything about this woman, from her supreme self-confidence to, yes, that fantasy about the vat of rats, was incredibly intriguing.

Sue Sylvester is sure to give as good as she got, he thought.

Severus Snape seems to be man enough to keep up with one Sue Sylvester, she thought.

Let's see who runs away first.

He glanced at the clock and his lips curled into a smile that was every bit as taunting as it was enticing. "It is almost tea time. Shall we adjourn to a pub and carry on this discussion over a drink or two?"

The competition was not yet over. Although the Cheerios placing first was a foregone conclusion, Sue lived for the moment when her kids claimed that first-place trophy, victory in living flesh.

Strangely, though, that was the farthest thing from her mind at the moment. "That would be outstanding."

Hours later, the Hogwarts Muggle Studies class milled around on Platform Nine and Three-Quarters at King's Cross Station, waiting for their chaperon to appear so that they could all go back to Hogwarts.

"Where's Snape?" Parvati Patil wondered. "The train will be here any moment now."

"They'll dock points if we leave anyone," Ernie Macmillan fretted. "They'll think we lost him on purpose."

"I say sod it," Seamus Finnigan declared. He was getting hungry and Ernie had been whinging about house points for the past half-hour. "He's a big boy and can take care of himself. Let's leave him."

Meanwhile, the Cheerios stood on the sidewalk outside the closed arena, their first-place trophy glittering in the light of the street lamps. They were still jet-lagged and it was well past their scheduled dinnertime, but their iron discipline kept them there, waiting for their coach to come and claim them.

"Where's Sue?" Quinn Fabray wondered.

"If we're lucky," Santana Lopez drawled as she filed her nails, "she's off somewhere, having sex."

"I want to have sex, too," Brittany Pierce said, out of the blue like always.

A number of her fellow Cheerios leered at her. "We can fix that," they chorused.

THE END