DISCLAIMER: I am not a crook!

POTIONS AND TEENAGED MUGGLES

Chapter Eleven: Nameplay and Aerosmith

…along with the door nearly hitting me in the face, I'm assaulted by the full weight of Ms. Evans, falling in through the doorway and knocking us both promptly on our asses.

"What-? Evans, get off of me!"

She jumps to her feet, stumbles, and slams the door. She turns to me with a pale face, drained of color, though flushed from running.

"I s-saw...  I saw a- a…"

"Well, you look like you've seen a ghost," I quip, quickly realizing the reason for her panicked outburst.

She seems affronted that I'm not taking her fear seriously. "Axe! He had a god-forsaken axe!! Woke me in my bed! MY BED! He- Snape, stop laughing at me!- was chasing me with a weapon… why- why are you still laughing?? Don't you believe me?!"

I am so beyond my senses now that I can't even tap into how truly upset I am for being awoken so abruptly. I finally manage to get a hold of myself enough to answer her inquiries. "That was either Peeves or the Bloody Baron- two of the Hogwarts ghosts. I suppose I should have warned you."

"Suppose you should've?! Well, yes, I guess so! Considering I nearly killed myself jumping out of bed, stumbling down three or four corridors, around the castle no less than three times, and almost falling to my DEATH on a shifting staircase before I found your quarters- considering that, I guess you should've said something to the effect of," at this point she puts on her best British accent and does an impression of me, "'Miss Evans, by the way, this school is a bloody DEATH TRAP!!'"

"If you weren't so clumsy-"She cuts me off by hitting me, hard, in the arm.

It occurs to me now that she might actually be angry.

"Me?! AH! You're so damned thick sometimes, I just-"She stops mid-sentence, gives me a long-suffering look, and plops in a chair by my extinguished fireplace.

"My hospitality does not extend into my room, Miss Evans."

"What hospitality? You're a cold, uncaring man. I couldn't give a damn about where your hospitality extends-"

"Watch it," I say testily.

"I'm not going back out there with ghosts and possessed-looking cats and god-knows-what-else patrolling the corridors. Forget it. You want me out, either pick me up or levitate my one-hundred-fifty-odd pound body out. I'll have a fit of astronomical proportions."

I weigh my options. Just for being rude, I should have tossed her into the cold. I'm Severus Snape- I do not tolerate such behavior lying down. I look at her pajama-draped form and scowl. She is, after all, an unmannered American.

"I am exceptionally hospitable toward you, if you only knew. Stop being such a child. Adults don't throw fits, Evans." With that, I tossed her a blanket and resumed my spot in my bed.

I heard her mocking murmurs, feigned in her bad British accent imitation, and eventually the sounds of even breathing.

Now where was I? Ah, yes, sleeping.

(==@==)

Very few hours of sleep and one ghost-laden dream later, I'm awake and rising from Snape's armchair. The smell of peppermint and copper fills my nostrils, immediately offending my drowsiness and forcing me to cover my nose. I nonetheless follow the scent to its source, and ante-chamber of sorts, where I find the beloved Professor brewing some concoction.

"What is that crap?" I ask.

Snape doesn't glance up, only goes on adding this, chopping that, moving and swaying with grace around the large cauldron in the center of the room. It's much like a dance, I note. Tired of being ignored, I pointedly tap my foot.

He glares at me, raising a menacing eyebrow, "You're throwing off my rhythm, Evans. I am not a morning person, and much as I can see that by the look of things, you're not either - (he glances my disheveled clothes and hair over at this, and I scowl at him) - my friendly countenance has worn thin. So do help yourself to breakfast.

"But I'm-"

"To the Great Hall with you, NOW."

"I don't…"

He slams his fist down onto the wooden counter at this, and impatiently stalks over to me, coming close enough to where I'm pleasantly assaulted by his scent.

He's obviously showered…or maybe he always smells this good… I think, self-indulgently. I'm ripped from this train of thought as he roughly grabs my shoulders, and guides me out of the room, slamming the door and locking it behind me.

I stare at the wooden door as though it's listening (and for all I know, it is) -and finish my sentence.

"…but I don't know where it is..."

….Ten minutes later, I'm absolutely exhausted. Wandering through the halls of Hogwarts has me knocked. It isn't so much the walking, but the sweeps with death that have taken my energy, and my patience.

"I'm hungry, I'm tired, my arm hurts…ah!"

I see the familiar hall that holds my room, and quickly find my way in. Grabbing a few necessities from my suitcase, I run back to Snape's chambers.

I sneak in through the door I left open (in case of anything, you know...) and set in to motion one of the stupidest ploys for attention I've ever concocted.

Soon, you'll be walking me to breakfast, you little bastard.

I pop in my Aerosmith CD, after debating over Shania Twain or Linkin Park- and blast my favorite song, skipping to the best part.

"I was cryin' just to get to you, now I'm dyin' cause I let you

Do what you do, down on me, YEAH!

Now there's not even breathin' room,

Between pleasure and pain, yeah-

You cry when we're makin' love, must be on in the same!!"

As I planned, Snape bursts from the room, but not as I expect.

He's calmly putting stoppers in tubes full of potion, and walks over to me with a condescendingly expectant look on his face, as though he's waiting to speak.

Of course, he can't, what with the music and all. I cock my head to the side, as I turn it down.

"Well?" I ask.

"I happen to be an Aerosmith fan, Evans. If you want to piss me off, you should play something monstrous, like country. Are you ready to go to breakfast?"

I stand in shock, eyebrows raised and mouth slightly open.

"Wonderful. I'll get my coat."

~~++~~

"So, you've taken to knocking off the formality, huh?" The nuance asks me from across the table at breakfast.

"Pardon?" I ask.

Wonderful, she's being ridiculously vague with her conversation starters again.

"Oh, it's just that all of the sudden I'm 'Evans,' not 'Miss Evans,' you know, you've taken off the 'Miss' and all that. So, I figure that seeing as how we're all buddy-buddy now, I could-"

"No."

"Not even-"

"Uh-uh."

"Oh, okay."

Long silence.

"So, Snape, how-"

"Don't try it."

She laughs at this.

"Oh, come on. Stop being such a name prude."

"A what?" I drop my fork and grab my napkin, wiping my hands as I stare at her. She's beaming with her damned infectious smile.

"A name prude, you know- one who is strict on their name, and only likes to be called one thing…"

"You made that up."

She smiles and finishes her toast. "Yep. Yep, I did Snape-brutha."

"For the love of-"

"Ok, so you either let me call you Snape or I'll continue to be brutally creative with your name. And I'll even find out what your middle name is."

I blanch. Not that.

I level her a viscous glare, and even add a sneer in for good measure.

"Oh please, dirty looks get you nowhere…"

I scoff and give her an apprehensive glance.

"Fine. But in the company of others, you will call me Professor."

"Sure. Great." She smiles triumphantly, trying to play off her obvious elation.

Good lord. Absolute disaster, trouble, nothing but trouble…

We sit in silence for a few moments as she finishes off her coffee.

"So, what d' we to do today, Snape?"

Author's Notes: Okay, you can officially be mad at me. ::sheepish smile::

Things get serious in the story next chapter. And yes, there will be one. And it will be semi-long. And somewhat soon. As in not three months. Please don't hate me?

-Tam