This is such a bad idea. I can't believe I'm even considering this. I'm just going to tell him to forget it, is what I'm going to do. Alex argued with herself all the way down the lawns to the quidditch field. She wasn't at all surprised to see Severus Snape already there, pacing. From her distant vantage point on the Hogwarts grounds, Snape's flapping robes made him look like an angry crow. The Slytherin quidditch team passed her, heading back to the castle after a practice. Lucius Malfoy's kid tried sneering at her as they went by. Alex gave him a jaunty wave. One-point-five, she thought. Forget it, kid, you're just not Olympic Sneering Team material.

Snape wasted no time on greetings. He strode to meet her and shoved a broom at her. Alex examined it dubiously. The broom was small, barely taller than she was, with faded blue paint. The hand grips were worn smooth, the bare wood darkened. One foot rest had lost its tread. "Where'd you get this ? It's so cute," she exclaimed.

Snape rolled his eyes. "It was my first broom," he said grudgingly. "It's sized to fit a child; you ought to be able to manage it."

Alex smiled, momentarily forgetting her reservations about the flying lesson. "Aw, your first broom. That is so cute," she repeated. She took a closer look at the handle. The letters S S were carved in a childish scrawl. The owner of the initials glowered at her. Alex tried to picture the potions master as a little kid. It was impossible. Her mind conjured the image of a thin young boy with greasy hair, wearing long black robes and a sneer. She giggled at the thought.

"If you can contain your mirth, Miss Rose," Snape said, "the first step is to place your cute little broom on the ground and stand to the left of it." His voice dripped sarcasm.

"Um, Professor, I really just came down here to tell you that..." her voice trailed off as he raised his eyebrows impatiently. "Um. Okay, then." Reluctantly, Alex laid the broom on the ground and stood beside it. This won't work anyway. I don't need to argue with him. He'll see that there's no way that I can do this.

Snape had placed his own broom on the ground as well. "Put out your right hand and command the broom," he demonstrated. "Up." The broom leapt into his hand.

Oh, sure. Like that's going to happen. Alex looked down at her broom. It seemed fairly harmless. At least it wasn't menacing like the big racing brooms used by the quidditch teams. "Up," she said, tentatively. To her surprise, the little broom flew into her hand. It wriggled slightly under her palm, like a happy puppy.

Snape laughed. "Don't look so shocked," he told her. "Now, swing your leg over the handle, hold on tight, and push off from the ground with both feet, hard. Like this." He took off on his broom, then brought it back down gently, hovering a few feet off the ground. "See ? Nothing to worry about. Just point the handle toward the ground and you'll come right back down." Snape gave Alex one of his coyote smiles.

"If you're trying to look reassuring, you're failing miserably," she told him. He stopped smiling abruptly and rolled his eyes. That's better. Alex sighed and swung her leg over the broom. I really don't think this is a good idea. She pushed off, not particularly hard. The broom drifted up. Alex choked back a scream as her feet left the ground. Frantically, she shoved the front of the broomstick down. The broom dove, the stick pointing straight down, and dumped her on the thick springy turf of the quidditch field. She stood up and brushed herself off, ignoring Snape's laughter above her. The broom drifted to the ground, where it rolled over, looking for all the world like a puppy caught misbehaving. "See ?" she called up to him. "I can't fly. Lesson over." Alex tried to ignore the broom, which was rolling back and forth and quivering as though begging for a second chance.

"Nonsense. That wasn't bad at all for your first take-off," Snape chuckled. "And landing. The flight in between was a bit...brief. Give it another try, and this time, don't panic."

"Easy for you to say," she grumbled. "Oh, all right, all right, I'm not mad at you," she told the broom, "up, already." It sprang to her hand. She mounted and pushed off again without enthusiasm. The little broom drifted upward smoothly and slowly, as though eager to prove that it could behave. Snape watched, eyebrows raised, as Alex and the broom rose six feet off the ground and stopped. She clung to the broomstick, her heart pounding.

Snape shook his head. "This is going to take a while," he muttered. He raised his voice so Alex could hear him. "Lean forward a bit and steer the broom in the direction you want to go," he instructed. "Once around the field, and then land."

Alex sat glaring at him for a few moments, then leaned forward a minuscule amount. The broom drifted forward at a snail's pace. Her palms were sweaty, her stomach clenched. "I really, really hate this, you know," she told him conversationally.

"You're doing fine." He drifted alongside her, guiding his own broom with his knees, not bothering to hold on to the handle.

"Show-off," she grumbled.

"The sooner you complete your lap around the field, the sooner you can land," he suggested, smirking.

Alex managed to complete a circuit of the field and land the little broom. She fell off again while landing, though less spectacularly than she had the first time. To her dismay, the lesson didn't end there. Snape insisted she practice taking off and landing. When she was able to manage that to his satisfaction, he badgered her until she was able to get the broom to an altitude of about twenty feet. Alex wasn't completely happy with the situation. The little witch was uncomfortably aware of the roles they had taken on – those of teacher and student. I shouldn't be doing this in the first place. He's overbearing enough. He doesn't need any encouragement. As she struggled through the lesson, she realized that she was trying her best, as much to gain Snape's approval as to prove to herself that she could fly the little broom. Sheesh. Like I'm a kid again, with a crush on the teacher. That's kinda sick.

"You're making progress, Miss Rose," Snape told her as they circled the field one last time.

"Uhng," she grunted noncommittally. Actually, this isn't so bad, she admitted to herself. As long as I don't fly too high. Or too fast. She landed smoothly and hopped off the broom with relief. The Hufflepuff quidditch team, who had been waiting impatiently, hurried onto the field. Six of them kicked off and swooped into the air as the seventh unlocked a box containing the quidditch balls. The last student mounted her broom and soared into the air, casting Snape and Alex a reproachful glance. The flying lesson had taken well over an hour, cutting into the Hufflepuff team's practice time. "You haven't made any friends there," Alex remarked. The two mages ducked as a bludger whizzed by. "Did you play for Slytherin when you were a student ?"

Snape let out a snort. "Me ? No. I was a bookworm." He opened the broom storage shed. They stowed their brooms away, the child's broom Alex had ridden looking dwarfed by the sleek racing brooms. "I've always liked flying, though," Snape added. He looked away, seemingly intent on watching the students swoop and dive overhead. "So, would you care to have dinner in Hogsmeade this evening ?" he asked, his voice casual.

Alex watched the potions master's hawk-like profile. After a long moment Snape turned and met her eyes. "Um, no, not tonight," she said finally. "Actually, Professor, I don't think we should see one another any more." His face showed no reaction. "I admit, I'm attracted to you," she blundered on. Yeah, I think he noticed, stupid, she told herself. There was that little incident in the graveyard. Alex could feel herself blushing. "Um," she explained. Snape just stared down at her, expressionless. Alex felt annoyed at the lack of response. "Listen, I like you. Liked you. I thought there could be something between us. Maybe." He was frowning now, but looking puzzled rather than angry. She went on in a rush. "But you don't ever let me get close, do you ? You don't tell me anything, you don't trust me-"

"I told you when I had to leave you in Chelmsford," Snape interrupted. "That was business for the Order. It wasn't as though I wanted to be called away. It was beyond my control."

She shook her head. "I'm not upset about it. That's just my point, though. You didn't trust me enough to tell me what was going on. I mean, I knew there had to be some good reason for you to leave so suddenly." Alex looked at him searchingly. "For all I knew, you could have been going to your death." He snorted, a short burst of humorless laughter. "You think that's funny ? Well, to hell with you, then !" she exclaimed, exasperated with him. Above them, heads turned to look. With an effort, Alex lowered her voice. "I can't...be with someone who can't trust me. Someone who I can't trust in return. Oh, hell," she said softly, "we barely know each other anyway." She turned and walked away.

As she left the quidditch field behind, Snape caught up to her. Alex walked faster, not looking at him. He easily kept pace with her. "So, what do you want to know ?" he said innocently. She glanced over at him suspiciously and kept walking. "What is it that you want to know ? I'll tell you whatever you like. If it'll make you feel better," he added. His eyes gleamed in the gathering darkness.

"Oh, no. Forget it. No." Bad idea, she warned her heart, which insisted on beating faster. She quickened her pace.

Severus Snape caught her arm. "Alex..."

She started to pull away, then took pity on him. He actually called me by my first name just now. Maybe there's hope. "Oh, all right already. Dinner in Hogsmeade, is it ? Fine, but you've got a lot of explaining to do." She turned back towards the field and the path down to the wizarding village. Snape strode along beside her. "You really are pathetic," she told him. He flashed a rueful grin. Pathetic. "Don't think I won't make you talk," she said, threateningly. "And I expect answers. Long, detailed answers."

"I can hardly wait," Snape said sarcastically.

Alex giggled heartlessly. "Neither can I," she replied.