Prologue

An absence of Firewhiskey soon led to an absence of Charlotte and Marita, which left the Writer shaking her head at a pleading Snape as he begged for "anything but that".

"I've named my price," she said firmly, "do you want those memories or not?"

"But to give you one of my memories in return..." Snape implored, "it's unthinkable! I refuse to do it."

"Come on, Severus, it would only be one memory," the Writer thought for a moment, "I'll tell you what, if I ask for just one memory from you, will you send others from the Order so I can start a fresh collection?"

Snape considered this, "Even...Potter?"

"Especially Potter," the Writer smirked, "wouldn't you love to see both Harry and James Potter writhing around in the agony of their own embarrassment? It's the perfect act of revenge, my friend!"

"I...that would be most amusing..." the corners of Snape's mouth twitched, as though he considered smiling. It was the closest the Writer had ever seen him to looking happy.

"All you have to do is give me one memory, then it will all be over...for you, anyway. For the rest of the Order, well..." the Writer dug into her desk drawer and pulled out a fat purse, practically bursting with coins, "I'll even pay you for your trouble. One hundred Galleons for your memory now and there's plenty more where that came from."

"Really?"

"Of course. I'll pay you for every member of the Order you send my way. Heck, I'll pay you for anyone you send my way, Order member or not," the Writer passed him the purse, "one memory and this is yours."

Snape paused, mulling it over.

"This had better be worth it," he told her, "because I won't save your skin if it backfires."

"No problem, Severus, it can't possibly go wrong," the Writer took out her trusty vial of Veritaserum and poured it into a glass, "I suppose as you know what you're doing I don't have to disguise it with a drink of any kind?"

"No, thank you," Snape gripped the glass and swigged from it, gulping as the effects took hold.

"I once took a day off to go see an Oasis concert!"

"Not really what I was looking for, please continue," the Writer inspected her nails with a hint of boredom.

"Alright, then, try this one for size," Snape snapped, "I like to read dirty romance novels. I write them, too!"

There was an uncomfortable amount of silence.

"Severus Snape, the strictest no nonsense man in this universe, reads and writes Adult Fiction?" the Writer spoke mainly to herself, "that is probably the most unexpected thing I've heard in years."

"Are you going to cash in on this arrangement or not? Because if not, I'm leaving," Snape asked.

"Alright, hold still..." the Writer pulled the memory from the side of his greasy head and put it in the vial. Snape stood upright from his chair and paced towards the door. But before he took his leave, he turned round.

"No one is to know about this," he pointed at the Writer in warning.

"Not a soul," the Writer crossed a finger over her heart.

With a flourish of his robes, he stormed moodily out the door. Alone again, the Writer began to chuckle, pressing the Power button on her computer. She turned the vial over in her hand.

"No one is to know about this...apart from most of the English-speaking world."