"You look terrible as a redhead." Onyx said as she helped situate a wig's auburn tresses around Nezza's face. It was the afternoon of Halloween, and they had stormed the shop, insisting that their friend actually stop working for the first time in almost two months and come to their party. They had sent a formal invitation weeks ago, but it sat with the rest of Nezza's unopened mail in a precarious and sprawling paper mountain.

"Ta very much. You sure know how to make a girl feel great about herself." Nezza barked out a laugh, as she allowed this preening. She clearly did not take the slight too personally and was giving in willingly enough to their demands.

Business had been good - great, even - causing her to work all hours of the day and all days of the week. That day, for the first time in what felt like forever, all of her orders were filled, her inventory was full, and she wasn't feeling the creative urge to try and design something new. So, she might as well go get some free gourmet canapes and top shelf swill. Sitting alone, in the flat, with no work led to thinking. And thinking was bad.

"It wouldn't look half so bad if you just let us temporarily transfigure your hair, rather then use that disgusting, cheap wig." Jade said from across the room where she was absentmindedly running her wand over an old school robe, the green lining slowly turning scarlet.

"I will have you know that this was a disgusting, expensive wig."

"Ugh, please tell me you didn't spend a knut on that wretched dead animal." Jade didn't bother to ask why on earth her friend owned a random red wig.

"I just said it was expensive, not that I paid for it." No explanation was offered, or requested on why she was in possession of such an item. It was generally considered safer that way.

Before her sister could comment that whatever shop Nezza lifted it from should have paid her to take it, Onyx put down the brush and hairspray and picked up a hand mirror and proffered it to Nezza. "All done, take a look."

"Oh, fuck me! I look like my mother!" Nezza groaned as she inspected her visage. Indeed, the mess of red curls matched her mother's hue almost perfectly, though her mother's hair was never so glamorous. Hers was usually tucked back into a braid and covered over with a sun hat and a fertilizer-streaked paisley scarf.

"Robe's ready too!" Jade held it up for Nezza to slip into it. "There. All set. I still don't know why you had to change your hair. The joke still works without it."

Nezza shrugged, clearly no more invested into the reason then a fleeting flight of fancy. "There seems to be an absurd number of gingers in Gryffindor. Pretty sure even McGonagall was a carrot top back in the day. Must be something in the air up in their tower."

Before any real debate on the hair-colour demographics of each Hogwarts house could be had, the off-kilter jingling of the shop's dented doors bell caused Nezza to sprint towards the front, to the chorus of complaints from her friends, whining that she hadn't locked the door. Partying at the Argent's was better than sitting around bored and lonely and not making money, but the opportunity to make money trumped all.

The customer looked taken aback, and before Nezza could try to sum up the reason, his first words to her started to explain. "Hello," His tone was slightly tinged with the type of patronization of someone who is trying their best not to talk down to a teenager that might be offended by being treated as anything less than adult. "Do you work here?"

"I own the place." She knew she looked young, but this was the first time anyone acted like she might be some kind of intern. His scepticism was made evident by a quick glance at her clothing, and then she remembered. "Oh, yeah, no - I am not a student. This is my Halloween costume."

"Aren't Halloween costumes supposed to be scary?"

"This is. What is the most terrifying thing to a Slytherin?" She deadpanned, pointed to the Gryffindor Crest on the robe, and then laughed at her own joke as understanding dawned on the poor befuddled stranger, finally taking notice of the badging and colour. "What can I do for you?"

"Do you do custom potions?"

"Yeah, for anything I don't keep stocked, I charge for all ingredients at current market cost, and 2 Galleons 3 knuts per active brewing time, 1 Galleon 1 Knuts for passive. Whatcha need?"

The man cast a shifty gaze around - he wasn't the normal type of dodgy character she was used to seeing in the shop, but rather middle aged and suburban, only with something to hide. He slid a folded up piece of parchment across the counter to her, clearly uncomfortable with what he was requesting.

Hoping for something exciting, or challenging, she sighed and rolled her eyes when a perfunctory glance at the recipie he handed her revealed that he wanted nothing more exotic than a fairly average love potion. What he had written down was basically a carbon copy of a textbook example. After a minute of upselling him to a different potion and haggling over final costs, the man handed over the half payment and left, leaving Anezka to saunter back into the work room, brushing past her friends and muttering an ingredient list under her breath.

"You are just going to give him a bottle of Firewhiskey, aren't you?" It was a common trick that Nezza had played in school, and Jade had seen it many times.

"Not for what I am charging. He might notice at that price." Nezza paused from where she was rummaging through a stack of disordered, odd bits of paper, looking for notes she had jotted down previously. "No, I've been formulating this experimental potion in my head for a while now, and this will be my first chance to put it into action. It's a tricky prep, but cook time will be the real bitch. I will need to keep a close eye on it cause the one ingredient is . . ."

Not wanting to allow what would quickly devolve into a lecture on Potioneering theory and the chemical components of magical ingredients, Jade quickly interrupted. "But what about our party?"

Nezza snorted indelicately at this. "It's not like you ACTUALLY wanted me there anyway." She waved off the suggestion like a fly.

"We do!" Onyx kindly insisted.

"Only as someone to throw down as distraction to get out of talking to ex boyfriends" Basically, at every party Nezza had ever attended, whenever a former lover, still amourous or otherwise, tried to strike up conversation with either Argent girl, Nezza was quickly introduced to him, with the twin in question quickly bowing out soon after claiming "hostess duties", and Nezza would just natter the man to death. In her mind it was something akin to throwing a dead goat at a dragon that was chasing you. The goat wouldn't keep the dragon's interest for very long at all, but it would feel obliged to at least sniff it since the humans went to all the trouble to kill and catapult it for them.

"Oh, but your costume is so good, and now no one will see it!"

"Pretty sure most people in attendance will have seen a Gryffindor uniform, Nyx, at least from afar." Nezza actually paused to look at her friend, befuddled that this didn't seem as obvious to Onyx as it did to her.

Jade, more than a little annoyed they were being stood up by their friend, sneered a little. "But who will drink all the champagne dregs left on tables and then fall asleep under the buffet line."

"That was only once!" Nezza defended herself but didn't really stop reading over her own chicken scratch handwriting. This new potion was unique - in that unlike every other love potion that was either weak as water or basically an imperio curse in liquid form, it only functioned if there was actually any scrap of attraction and affection in the recipient. While her ethics were shady and flexible, at best, and while she was never one to turn down a sale, she felt some kind of way about making women obsessed nymphos with men they might not actually want. So between the slight twinge of conscience, and the challenge of coming up with something unique, she had formulated an alternative, and she had been looking for a test case for weeks.

"Oh, come on," Onyx cajoled. "All work and no play makes Nezza a dull witch."

"Makes Nezza a rich witch." She jingled the baggie of coins avariciously, before tossing it on the worktop.

"Oh, but think of all the exposure you will get - socializing with all the fabulously wealthy people at the party, conning them into buying . . .things." This was a ploy that had worked nine times out of ten to get Nezza to attend less alluring Argent social events - she was always more than thrilled to have unfettered access to the well heeled of magical society, but she wasn't biting today.

"Exposure is something you can die from in the wilderness, not a solid business plan. 'Sides, if any of your social set haven't already let me fleece them, they aren't really likely to at this point. It is always the same old crowd at your do's." The ensuing silence gave Nezza more pause then any of the arguments had. She looked up from her counter to see that the slightly annoyed expressions had escalated to a bit miffed. "Look, if you want me to go so bad, cough up the money I would lose from the sale."

"Ten galleons? No way,"

"C'mon, that is pocket change to you. If you want me there that badly . . ."

"I don't actually want you there that much!"

"Bye, then. Have fun." Rather then be offended or feign surprise that her attendance wasn't worth that much money to her friends, she just waved and went back to work, giving them implicit permission to leave.

This earned a full on sneer and elegant flouce to the door from Jade. Onyx trotted after her, a little less sneer, but just as elegantly, and punctuated with a pause at the back door. "If you change your mind, come on over any time, alright? The party will be going all night."

"If you change yours, I accept all forms of payments except goats." Nezza didn't even consider the kind offer for a minute.

As soon as they were gone, and she knew they wouldn't be there to make fun of her, Nezza rubbed her hands together, intentionally emulating a cartoonish mad-scientist. Once that flight of fancy had been indulged, she started uncorking vials, and opening drawers, throwing the starting ingredients in a cauldron.

Just as she was lighting the fire, she heard the back door's latch creak. She assumed it was Jade, deciding that her demands would not be denied over something as trivial as money. "I've reconsidered . . . I WILL accept a goat or two as payment, as long as it is them fainting ones." She tried to look over her shoulder at her friend, catching only a mess of red curls in her peripheral, remembering again that she was still in costume, blowing and spitting to get the wayward locks out of her mouth.

"I . . ." The deep tenor was obviously not Jade's, and Nezza froze for a second, smirked to herself, then spun around fully to see Snape frozen in her doorway, like he had seen a ghost.

Snape had ducked in the door quietly, all of his attention cast over his shoulder to make sure that no one witnessed him entering the building. He had stood outside long enough in the shadows to see the Argent girls leave, and an Hominium Revelio confirmed that Anezka was alone inside. When he heard her absurd greeting about goats before even seeing her, he had held every intention of responding with a snide comment about Aberforth Dumbledore having the corner on the strange affinity for goats market, but that was before he saw a red-headed Gryffindor standing where Anezka's voice came from.

When she turned around, he realized it was an absurdly large and fake wig, made all the more ridiculous by a few stray hanks of dark hair sticking out from around it's edges. That finally made the room stop spinning, at least a little.

Hoping that she hadn't noticed the split second of terror, hope and fear that had frozen him to the spot, he attempted a smooth recovery and rattled off his originally planned answer.

"What are you doing here? Isn't it all party-party-party down at school?" Was her only response as she went back to work.

"If you consider the students being confined to dormitories under the supervision of their house heads a party, perhaps." It was the only way that he could ensure that the students were safe in his absence. If they couldn't get out - and he was certain that especially Minerva would make sure there were no escapees, despite her hatred for him and her vehement argument against such a "punishment" - then the Carrows would also not be able to get in to them. The children were at least as safe as they could be in his absence.

"Oh, lockdown on Halloween night. . . you are a cruel, cruel man." She didn't seem bothered by his supposed cruelty, but rather amused by it. If it was due to her traditional scorn for attempts at authority, or if it was because she suspected the alterior motives of his so-called punishment, he couldn't quite tell. But it was pleasant to not be judged - judged either too brutish or too lax.

"I suspect they might survive the punishment, somehow." In reality, that was ultimately the goal.

He was quickly running out of ways to protect the students that seemed to be punishment on the surface, especially after having to send Longbottom, Lovegood and the Weasley girl out to the Forbidden forest with Hagrid a few nights previous. He desperately needed to mete out some punishment for appearances sake after their attempted break in and theft of his office, but also, if he didn't get them away from the castle and quickly, they would be better off dead then left to the mercies of Alecto and Amycus. He was sure they were all vastly amused, supposedly at his expense, about how they spent a pleasant evening traipsing about the woods with Hagrid, as their punishment, but he didn't care. Let them think him a fool, a madman, or tyrant as long as they lived to talk about it.

"So, why are you here then?"

"I had business at Gringotts this evening." When Voldemort heard what the children had attempted to steal, he had demanded the Sword of Gryffindor be brought immediately to Bellatrix's vault. He would have been more than content to have a Carrow bring it, or send any random Death Eater to courier it, but Snape could not risk any of them taking too close of a look at the forgery or showing it to anyone else, especially any goblins. It was an incredible copy, entirely indistinguishable to all but a few, but a copy it was, and no one could be given even the slightest chance at figuring that out. A few carefully placed words were enough to get the Dark Lord to demand that Snape bring the weapon to London himself, thinking it was his own idea.

"That explains why you are in London. Why are you here?" It had been months since he had left, and there had been no contact between them since his time hiding out there over the summer, but her impish smile - the one she had always worn when she was up to no good in school - implied that she knew exactly why he was in her shop. Despite her obvious intuition however, he himself wasn't sure why he was there and what little confidence he previously had in the decision to apparate out of his rented room at the Leaky Cauldron to her alley door was shaken by her current appearance.

It was clearly a costume for a party. The joke wasn't lost on him; what could be scarier to a Slytherin than a Gryffindor. The added irony, that maybe only he could see and appreciate, was the fact that, if how she had dressed as an actual student was any indication, a clean and pressed uniform was also terrifying to her. "Oh, I do apologize, I didn't realize that I was interfering with your hectic social calendar." He sneered, knowing she either skipped whatever party she was dressed for, or never actually received the expected invitation. "I could just leave."

"Don't you dare!" She scoffed, and then practically flew across the room, launching herself at him with an almost carefree chuckle.

She never seemed more her age - more carefree and young - in that split second then any of the time she actually spent in school. It was both endearing and heartbreaking.

It did nothing to quell the instinctual reaction he kept having, feeling as though he was somehow interacting with Lily. He knew better, and he kept trying to tell himself that it wasn't her. Yet despite any effort, every time he had spared a glance for her in the past few minutes since his arrival, all his eyes would register was the hair and the Gryffindor robes, and it substituted in Lily, ignoring the fact that frame and face being different.

Lily had been the last person to ever seem so . . . happy . . to see him. The last person to run to him, and throw herself at him with joyful abandon, pleased to be seeing someone she cared about. If Anezka had done this looking like herself, he would have teased her mercilessly, picked at her until she picked back, as was their way. But she didn't, so he didn't, and everything about it felt . . . off.

He knew he needed to stop her, but he couldn't. He didn't want to. This was as close as he would ever come to holding his Lily again, and although conscience railed against it, he couldn't let her go, as she clung to him, kissing him, dragging him to the stairs. "Weren't you working on something -" It was the best effort he could put in, the sense of a potions master overriding all.

"It will wait." She said, grabbing his hand and dragging him towards the narrow stairs

He had wanted this for too long, and while he knew it was just illusionary, his mind couldn't accept anything other than what he saw - Lily leading him by the hand to her bed.

They did not even make it that far, the settee providing an obliging surface at least twenty paces sooner. In a dizzying dance, she turned to face him, pressing herself close, planting teasing kisses along his jaw line as she spun him around, pushing him back onto the couch, following him down.

She weighed nearly nothing in his lap, but her presence was unmistakable and his physical reaction was nearly immediate. Feeling him growing hard under her, she simply smirked, settling in further to him with a not particularly artful, but somehow still seductive swaying of her hips. Slender fingers that had been playing with the ends of his hair brushed down his neck, pushing his outer robes off his shoulders. Shimmying her way down, she slid off his legs, until she knelt in front of him, fingers lightly trailing after her and coming to rest at his waist.

Each tug at a layer of clothing was a merry hell for his pulse. She seemed to take her time with the buttons on his coat, for all she had always cursed them and threatened to rip them off before. But with each gentle popping of button, he felt more air being tugged from his lungs, and for the first time he questioned his peculiar sartorial affection for the cloth covered notions. But either out mercy or her own impatience, as soon as his coat was half undone, she pulled the white linen shirt out from where it was tucked, sliding her palm up his stomach; the touch of her cool skin on his abdomen, nails lighting scratching along the small dusting of hair beneath his navel, while intoxicating, did nothing to distract him from the quick work she made on the button fly of his pants.

He had been watching her face up until that moment, the arousal evident in her expression still amazing to him, but her face in that frame of red curls continued to strike a discordant note with him. The odd sensation, almost hallucinatory in the strange merging of people, was only made worse as sentient thoughts were quickly driven out by more primal instincts with her every touch.

Silver eyes shadowed with mischief stared at him a moment, reminded him of who she really was at least one last time, before her hands finally released his cock from the underwear it was straining against, and he had to close his eyes, trying to curb the sensory overload that currently coursed through him. He shuddered, giving out an involuntary groan, maybe even swearing, as she languidly ran the small tip of her tongue along his shaft from base to tip.

As she pulled him further into her mouth, her every attention wrapt on his manhood, he did everything he could possibly think of to steady himself - the shivery sensation of her warm mouth wrapping around him, pulling him in and out was one that he instantly wanted repeated, and quickly, but he also was in no hurry for this experience to end.

A sudden pause earthed him quickly and he glanced back at her to see her push long tendrils of red curls out her way - clearly unaccustomed to managing the length of hair the wig gave her. Eager to have her continue, he brushed the long tendrils away from where they had started to stick to her face and neck, gather the length of it and holding it to the back of her head.

Wordlessly, she eagerly went back to the task at hand, pulling the length of him fully back into her mouth, her cheek stretching to accommodate. He found he could not look away, watching her as she bobbed up and down, finding a frenetic yet teasing pace, watching her shift her jaw, his fist, entangled in those hypnotising red locks, giving him some control over her head - watching it was an aphrodisiac all on it's own.

As if sensing his excitement, she slowed down, and breathed in deeply, sucking firmly and creating such a sensation that he couldn't stop his hips from bucking under her, and he almost could have sworn his racing pulse stopped for a split second. "Sweet merlin . . . fuck .. . Lily, yes . . . . christ!" He felt that warm buzz through his body, knowing he wasn't going to last much longer, just a few more . . .

It took a full second to realize that she was as still as if someone cast a freezing spell on her, but even then his blood didn't run cold until she calmly put her hand on top of his, nails just slightly clawing into his skin as she disentangled his grip from the back of her head. As soon as she was free of his grip she stood up, wiped at her mouth with an aggressively delicate movement and turned to look at him, expression entirely unreadable.

"What. did. You. just. Call me?"