DISCLAIMER

Oh, twere it that

I had many of riches

I would not be on this site

writing about someone else's witches.

My Date with the Greasy Git

"What?"

That was all Ginny could seem to get out after I told her about my sting operation to get Calus.

"There's more," I said. "Snape was there; I ran into him and had to explain why Lola was calling me Lucy. Otherwise, you know, he probably would have exposed my cover. Then Lola asked me if Snape and I were a couple."

We were sitting on Ginny's porch, on the steps, just out of the rain. Harry was with Ron, Fred, and George at their shop. Ginny had been dressed in jimjams when I'd opened the door and hadn't gotten out of them since.

She now looked at me with child-like shock. "How on earth did she figure you and Snape were dating? And what was he doing there? Don't tell me he works there too."

"No, actually, he is getting interviewed by Calus himself. In a multi-part interview of sorts. But I cannot get him to give me Calus' identity. You know how stubborn and mean he can be.

"I told Lola that we were together in order to keep her from searching my background for information, for dirt. And I tried to keep it from Snape but she ended up talking to him. I did however, manage to get to him before he revealed anything and he even agreed to play along. We're even going out to dinner with Lola and Stephen tonight."

She breathed, "Whoa. I'm surprised he agreed with this!" Then her mind switched courses. "You said you thought you found the identity of Calus?"

Ugh. The part I really didn't want to tell. But she was my friend. "Now, this was before he told me that he knew who Calus was." Then I explained the entire bloody thing up until Snape had walked in on us. "You won't believe it but Snape, after laughing at me, informed me on how to properly seduce a man."

She laughed with me for a split second before suddenly stopping, thinking about it a bit, and asking, "What exactly did he say?"

"He said,"—I tried to deepen my voice the way he had but it was not quite there.

"'All you have to do is shove a man against a wall and kiss him passionately.' Then he added that 'no man would be able to refuse the attention of a beautiful woman.' As if he read my mind on what if the bloke rejected me because I was too strong or something."

The thing was, Ginny seemed more interested in what Snape had said than anything else. She said, "Were those his exact words? ' no man would be able to refuse the attention of a beautiful woman'?"

"Yeah, so?"

She stared forward. "Whoa." Then to me; "Are you positive that's what he said?"

What was she on about? "Yes, Ginny, that is really what he said. I am 100 on this."

"What was he doing when he said this?"

Oh, blimey. "Conjuring ducks. Bloody hell, Gin, what do you think he was doing?"

She didn't laugh at my joke but was suddenly Miss Serious Knickers and demanded, "No, I need you to describe exactly what he was doing: how he was standing, what he was doing with his hands…everything."

Oh, what the hedge, I decided to humour her. I drew up the memory in my mind and spoke about what I saw. "He, er, was leaning against the desk, his hands on each side of me kind of trapping me in. Erm…his eyes were highly…I guess piercing is the only way to describe it, and his voice went very deep and…his hair was hanging in his eyes. Now is that satisfactory or do you want me to describe the décor as well?"

She almost numbly shook her head as she smiled. "Wow, I just cannot believe…Are you certain those were his exact—"

"Would you just tell me what you are on about before I set your hair on fire!"

She sighed. "Ok, now I am not certain—well, I am. I'm 82 positive he complemented you. I think he called you beautiful."

Now it was my turn to laugh. The mere thought was absurd! Snape call me beautiful. He never complemented anyone, not even himself! "Gin, I think you've been reading far too many romance novels. How, in Merlin's name, did you come to that ridiculous conclusion?"

She was determinably serious about her statement, making me doubt her sanity.

"No, Hermione, I'm not kidding; I can tell with these things."

Oh, dear, she was beginning to sound like Lola.

She went on like a mad person, "He first instructed you on how to seduce a man and then added that no man would be able to resist a beautiful woman. He was talking about you; you are beautiful!"

"He did not say that," I countered matter-of-factly.

"He didn't say that no man would—"

I groaned. "Well, yes, he did say that but I am sure he didn't mean that I am beautiful…"

"Then why did he say it?" she countered.

"It was probably an accident."

"How do you accidentally say something?"

Oh, she was confusing me and so I stood up. "You know, I have things to do before we go on the date."

She suddenly leapt up. "Who said it was a date? You or Snape?"

"Actually Lola did. You aren't going to go around trying to play matchmaker, are you? Because I thought you'd left that behind along with your single-hood. And furthermore, I really don't think this one would work out." I saw her open her mouth to argue so I raised my voice and hurried my words. "Regardless of your so-called 'perfect score'."

"What makes you think you and Snape wouldn't work out?" Asked the Mad Mobile innocently.

Whaaaat? "What do you mean—do you remember who Severus Snape is? About yay tall in all black and, oh, don't forget, an extreme loathing of all things A, Gryffindor, and B, related in anyway to Harry Potter. Need I add that he is a very solitary man who hates emotion of any kind? Now before this madness catches, I am going to take my leave and do what I need to do."

"I will only allow you to leave so long as you promise to tell me everything that happened on the date."

I rolled my eyes. "I'll do better. If you promise to stop this insane setting-Snape-and-me-up, I'll just send you the memory, alright?"

It was enough for her to release me (albeit, a little hesitantly) and I went to my flat to do things I really didn't have to do.

About an hour before the dinner (for I was never going to call it a date again, even in my head, for fear of Ginny trying to convince me that Snape and I are "meant to be" or what other nonsense she chooses to come up with), I was beginning to worry. I mean, what does one wear that says, "I am a woman madly in love with the man beside me and am not a pseudo-reporter in disguise hunting for the identity of the latest fad"? Also, I might add, although I'm not a leper or anything, I rarely date, as men only want raunchy big titted women who are skilled in flirting and lap dances. And I am not talented in either. Furthermore, I'm not the dress and/or skirt type girl, as I tend to feel very exposed and naked. Plus I have ghastly white legs that absolutely refuse to tan, regardless of any jinxes or potions I might try. My stomach is the same way, which explains my no-bikini policy. That, and the fact that I have less curves than a twig.

What dresses I did have were for church that my parents had always insisted on dragging me to (where they yelled at me for reading during the sermon. Is it my fault that the preacher telling us, 'God and Jesus are there for us and those that do not accept Them are going to be in Hell when They come,' repeatedly gets just a touch boring?). But I really didn't want to look like a choirgirl…or a nun.

I did have a resource that I could easily obtain: my neighbour, Ellen.

Ellen was a pretty good acquaintance of mine that I'd met my first day at my new flat, a few months ago. Originally, from America, she was a tad behind on our lingo and culture, to which I aided her being acquainted with. She was a lot like Ginny in her constant pursuit of men (although Ginny did quit that as soon as Harry snogged her in sixth year) and her bubbliness. She's a lot like me in her love of books and horrible hair (air thin). Somehow, though, she was born with one of those I-can-talk-to-anyone genes…and more breastly/hipply genes.

I rang her and she picked up on the first ring, as if she'd been expecting me.

"Ellen, its Hermione. Listen, I have a date to go to at seven and I've nothing to wear."

"Don't worry," assured her husky voice in my ear. "I'll be right over with some dresses and skirts. Do you need shoes?"

As I stood in front of my wardrobe, my eyes fell onto my one pair of heeled shoes, the ones I wore to the Yule Ball. They were the same turquoise my dress had been but now had horrible scuffmarks all over them along with a grass stain on the left toe. My other shoes were all flat but had been donated by my grandmum. I don't feel I have to elaborate on the state of those.

As if she could see right through the phone, Ellen said, "I'll grab those too. See you in a bit!" Then the phone went dead. That's the thing with Ellen; she talks really fast and is a bit impatient awaiting a reply.

I walked out of my room and into my living room to find her already there, dumping what looked like several clothes-stores worth of eveningwear and about a dozen shoes.

And then I couldn't see. Because Ellen, all five-eight of her, enveloped me in a spine snapping, hug and let out a shriek that hit a note not commonly made by a mammal, or even within a mammal's abilities. She stepped back and held me at arms length, admiring me proudly. "Finally, a date for you! About time, girl! Now, what are we going to do with you?" She circled me slowly as an interior designer would a room. She pulled a bit at my hair, had me raise my arms, stand on my toes, wriggle my fingers, all the while she appraised me. "I think a cami with a bit of lace on it would do for the top as you have nice shoulders that deserve to be shown off. Ditto on the collarbones. Something light and airy for the skirt that shows off your femininity. I'm thinking red to catch this guy, er, bloke's attention and heighten his passion. No, too fierce for your skin tone and pink would only make you look like a piece of gum…maybe a nice sunny yellow with pink accents. The shoes…Oh! I have a new pair of white stilettos that would go beautifully with the ensemble. Now, for the makeup…"

I looked down in alarm to where she had been crouched near my feet. "I said nothing about makeup."

She ignored me, shoved a light silk skirt and white and pink top in my arms, and practically threw me into my room.

I swear the fabric on the skirt was so thin; I was surprised it wasn't completely transparent. Although it did, somehow, manage to make me appear as if I had hips. And the top, I think, was full of static because it clung to me like a second skin, bringing out my (lack of) bosom.

I opened the door and told Ellen, who was rifling through her makeup bag and pulling out torture devices, that I didn't think the outfit worked.

She looked at me as if I was the thickest person in England and exclaimed, "What are you talking about? You look gorgey! Now, sit here so that I may do your hair and makeup."

No matter my protests, I found myself in my computer chair with half my hair pinned up and the rest getting de-frizzed. I do not know how she managed this but it worked and my hair no longer was in danger of blotting out the sun. She also managed to pin some of my hair back in such a way that make me look feminine. I know...I was surprised at that last bit also.

After that, it was all a nightmare of mascara, lippy, foundation, concealer, blush, lipliner, eyeliner, and, horrors upon horrors, faux eyelashes. I really had to draw the line at having spider like things put on my eyes.

"But your eyelashes are so thin!" she whined unattractively. "And so short!"

I could not be persuaded and so she agreed instead to add more mascara for volume.

Then came the "curler". An eyelash-curler is this medieval looking device that one uses to squeeze eyelashes so that they curved upward.

When I asked Ellen why, she coolly replied, after instructing me to quit blinking so much, "It opens up your eyes more."

Brilliant, I thought, Now I'll look like an owl on steroids. Snape is going to have a holiday with this.

She then added more mascara as the curler took some off. Which made me wonder, if she knew the curler was going to take some off, why didn't she curl before applying the mascara? She had no comment.

So after about four tubes of mascara, she proclaimed me complete and allowed me to run to the mirror to eye her artistry.

I will admit that the fact that there was about five kilograms of makeup on did not show at all. In fact, I still looked like myself but only with eyes that are more noticeable and a dewy-looking complexion. I was impressed; I looked quite pretty.

I thanked Ellen and she left with her clothes...about four seconds before there was a knock on the door that made me jump in shock. The landing was a bit painful as I was standing in shoes with toes that squeezed the blood out of my feet despite my many charms to make them roomier.

So I half-hobbled over to the door and opened it. It was just like Snape to be early.

I discovered that Ellen hadn't returned to her flat as I'd thought but only popped outside my door. Snape's back was to me while Ellen asked him every embarrassing question one could possibly think of. And Snape answered all of them with the tiniest traces of sarcasm! I tried to get her attention without getting his but she either ignored me or took no notice. I was forced to listen to the entire horrible exchange.

"How long have you known Hermione?"

"Eleven years."

"You've been dating eleven years! Hermione never told me that."

"No, we weren't dating then. I was still her professor. It would have been against the rules along with every moral code there is."

"So there weren't any late-night 'study sessions'?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"I wouldn't take advantage of a student."

"So how did you go from professor to lover?"

"Erm…"

"Wait! I know you! She's talked about you loads! Of course, I've also read the papers. You're Severus Snape, aren't you?"

"I am."

"Yeah…I heard you're a real bastard."

"You probably heard correctly."

"You made students cry?"

"Frequently."

"I heard you were an unfair teacher."

"In some opinions, I suppose I was."

Silence and I thought it was over. But no, she was only thinking up her next question.

"So tell me…have you guys ever acted out a fantasy where you give her detention and you guys shag on your desk?"

Ok, forget trying to get her attention, I exclaimed, "Oh, you're here, Professor! Come on in!" Then I grabbed his elbow and yanked him inside, promptly slamming the door shut behind him.

I turned. "Professor, I am really sorry for that. You see, all my friends have suddenly gone mad so please just ignore them, alright? She just…pay no mind to her. People act as if it's a big deal that I am going to have dinner with a person of the male persuasion. Erm…Hello? Professor Snape?"

He had been looking down at me with a half-frightened, half-ill, and all glazed expression and I had the feeling he really wasn't listening to me. "Are you alright?"

He blinked three times and focused on me as if I were a fake tree that just got up and started yodeling. "Oh, no, I'm fine. And no need to appologise. I was enjoying the challenge of her questions."

Hmmm. Maybe Ron's right and he is masochistic. "Right. Well, are you ready to go?"

I didn't wait for an answer but opened my door and walked out. I'd already lost count on how many times I'd embarrassed myself in front of this man in the past two weeks. And I was pretty sure it wasn't over for the night.

Lola was waiting outside The Frog Prince in a slinky white gown, a tall bloke with sandy coloured hair looking down at her as if she were the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

At the sight of her, "Severus" wound his arm around my waist and, when I looked up to him, smirked in a way that probably meant, "She will be completely fooled."

Lola whipped around when the-bloke-I-assumed-was-Stephen tapped her on her shoulder.

"Lucy!" To my horror, she started toward me with her arms spread wide…wider than her smile, if possible. Giving me some odd shoulder hug, she exclaimed, "Oh, you look lovely. Stephen, doesn't she look lovely?"

Stephen, who looked as if he'd walked straight out of Wizard Weekly, smiled kindly down at me. "You do."

"Thank you," I replied, avoiding Snape's glance as I could already hear his thoughts; are you going to seduce him, as well?

Lola beamed at the three of us like a proud mother. "Stephen, this is my coworker and friend, Lucy. And her boyfriend Severus."

Stephen shook my hand and, when he took Severus', asked, "Severus Snape, correct? The bloke that saved us all? I have wanted to meet you terribly. When Lola here told me Lucy's boyfriend was named Severus, I wondered if it was you."

"I hardly feel I saved 'you all' as I only did what Albus wanted and cast the Avada Kedavra," came Snape's easy reply.

Stephen's smile didn't even twitch. "Oh, but you did more than that! You were a spy! A double agent—no, triple agent! You leaked information from the Deatheaters to this "Order" while simultaneously leading Voldemort to believe that you were spying for him, and fooling the rest of the population into thinking the same." He looked at me. "Did he fool you as well?"

"He did." I answered.

"What was it like thinking your professor killed your headmaster?"

I thought back to when, after Luna and I revived Flitwick, he told us that Snape had hexed him. I hardly believed it but when I saw Snape run past with Malfoy and later when Harry told us what happened, I had been furious, to say the least. I cried, not only for Dumbledore's death, but also for the pure heartlessness in which Snape had betrayed his friend, the one person who trusted him. Also, Snape symbolized hope before then, as despite his appearance, mannerism, and past, he was still on our side, our secret weapon. It was all I could think about, even at Bill's and Fleur's wedding. I walked around numb to everything on account of the constant depressing thought on my mind. I do know that if I had encountered Snape during those times, I would have killed him.

Then, during our scavenging at Godric's Hollow, when Snape had shown up beside Bellatrix Lestrange, whom I was dueling, I was beyond furious. I'd turned my wand on Snape and cast every spell I could think of. In between dodging my spells, Bellatrix had disarmed me and I had fallen, thinking that where I was, was going to be my final resting place, that the last thing I would see was her cold smile alongside a betrayer. I will never forget what she said—

"Oh, look Severus," she'd sneered, slowly advancing on me. "Potter's little friend, the one who thinks she's the greatest witch of her age. And we have her at our mercy. Didn't you say she was an annoying little twitch? Well, now we can stamp her out." She'd raised her wand, the Killing Curse already on her lips when there was a sudden flash of green light and she dropped dead, literally. The spell cleared to reveal Snape with his wand out.

I'd laid there in shock as he'd bent over and picked up my wand. Shoving my wand at me, he'd barked, "I cannot follow you around babysitting you. Be more vigilant from now on." Then he'd stalked off.

Later Dumbledore showed up and their very tiring scheme had been revealed. I had been more than jubilant at the news, as had all.

I realized that Lola, Stephen, and Snape were all waiting for an answer. So I said, "I was really surprised."

Stephen accepted this and Lola claimed she was hungry so we went into the restaurant. Snape however, kept sliding suspicious looks my way, which I promptly ignored.

The Frog Prince was one of those far-too-expensive restaurants dimly lit by floating candles with harps and violins bewitched to play themselves. The tables were all round and covered in white tablecloths. In the center, there was space for couples to dance.

A grotesquely thin waiter with a mustache that appeared to grow atop his top lip appeared in front of us. In a highly French accent, said, "Welcome to ze Frog Prince. Do you have a rezairvation?"

"Lettico, party of four," said Lola proudly. The concierge looked down his list before going—

"Hm. Well then. Follow me." And so began our date.

There were five courses of Hell. Oh no, the food was spectacular; it was Lola and Stephen. I had the privilege of hearing each tale that Lola had already told me in greater detail along with many more. Occasionally they did ask about Snape's and my relationship, in which I let Snape answer since the one time I did, my reply came out, "Er…you see…this is good soup."

And Snape made our courtship seem almost like a fairy tale. Which, I suppose it was.

How we began dating:

"Lucy and I ran into each other about a year ago and we began talking. I asked her to dinner not as a date, just to talk about everything but then she showed up looking gorgeous and I had to ask her on a real date."

When we knew we were in love:

Snape: "I fell slowly in love with her; it didn't just happen all at once. No, it was more in the sense that I just suddenly sat up and realized how much I cared about her."

Me (I was surprised I could answer this and even more surprised the lie came easily): "Well, I actually quite fancied him when I was a student and when I dated him and learned more about him, that enamored feeling grew and flourished and, well, I was in love."

What the "first time" was like:

"Like a storm: terrifying and exciting at the same time."

Any habits we find entertaining about the other:

Snape: "Lucy here frequently embarrasses herself which is very amusing and her blush is rather attractive."

Me (glaring at him and trying not to blush): "Well, I find Severus' ability to er…use Legilimency well—and his tendency to do so commonly--endearing."

The conversation thankfully switched to work-related things. When Stephen was delighting us with tales of being a band manager when I suddenly felt Snape's leg touch mine lightly as he shifted in his seat.

All my senses went on high alert at the feel of his warm calf against mine. I'd never before paid attention to men's legs, really, and it was now that I realised how…distracting they could be. And I didn't know whether he'd placed his leg there on purpose (probably not) or if he even realised it was there. If he didn't, my moving my leg would only draw attention to that and if he had noticed, my not moving it would make him suspect maybe that I fancied him. I dared a glance at him but he seemed quite oblivious to the contact so I left my leg there. Then I tried to focus on what Stephen was telling us.

"Most people see rock stars as these disillusioned people that aren't even like us at all, but they really aren't. Orsino Thruston, for example, is my best mate and he actually abhors the attention, being in the spotlight. Why does he continue to perform, you ask? Why, he just loves the performing and entertaining an audience but not the media and paparazzi. And—Dear, isn't this our song?"

Some slow melody came over our heads and Lola perked up. "It is!"

To us as he stood up, Stephen said, "I think my fiancé and I are going to have a bit of a dance. Excuse us, won't you?"

Giggling, Lola took his hand and flounced off to join the already swaying crowd.

Then a worry crept into my mind as I watched them disappear. I looked around the room and my fears were confirmed. Nearly every couple was dancing. To Snape I said, "We are one of the few people not dancing and the others look to be in their 120's. Would you mind dancing? I mean, if you don't want to, that's fine—"

He stood up and held his hand out to me. Very cordially, he asked, "Would you care to dance, Milady?"

He looked as though he'd just stepped out of the Victorian era and the image was "entertaining." I took his hand and stood up.

Then froze. "I don't know how to dance."

He smirked and pointed to the crowd. "I'm certain you can manage to sway from foot to foot." When I didn't budge, he added quietly, "Follow my lead and you'll do fine."

As soon as I began walking, pains shot up from my feet and I was pretty sure I could feel a few blisters. I tried to hobble as inconspicuously and as attractively as possible.

We situated ourselves near enough to LolaandStephen so they could see us easily but not so close as to make it obvious. Then Snape placed my hand on his shoulder and placed his on my lower back. His other hand gently grasped my other and he began to shift his weight from foot to foot, assuring me to follow suit.

"I'm dancing!"

He smirked. "Indeed. Now, I thought we could talk."

The euphoria from doing something I've never been able to do took over my mouth and I blurted out, "Are we breaking up?"

He was right; I do embarrass myself a lot.

He inclined his head and did that intense look again. "No, actually, I wanted to talk about your reply to Stephen's question on how you knew you loved me."

"Not bad, was it?"

"Any truth to it?"

More blushing. I almost stuttered at the reply. "No." Ginny would disagree, but then again, she also seemed to think Snape was currently harbouring feelings for me.

Then, to my horror, I think he cast a silent Legilimency on me because then he smiled in that way he had of meaning he knew you were up to something.

So I changed the subject. "Who is Calus?" I know, smooth transitions: that's me.

"Don't veer off topic."

"Well, you won't tell me and I want to know how I'm supposed to find out his identity without you telling me."

"Now, Miss Granger, you know for a fact you will find out somehow, as when you initially began your investigation, you didn't know I was privy to the knowledge; you will just have to go at it as if I weren't here."

"Could you at least give me a hint?"

"No."

"At least answer this: Is his name actually Calus?"

He closed up. "I will neither confirm nor disprove that question."

Then I had a brilliant epiphany. "Wait, if his first name isn't Calus, is it his surname?"

"No."

"What about his middle?"

"Miss Granger, we are supposed to appear in love, not arguing."

Oh my god! I almost hugged him. "It is his middle name!"

He eyed a spot on my shoulder. "I didn't say that."

"Oh, thank you, Severus!" I then lowered my voice. "Ok, is he tall, short, what?"

"Will you marry me?"

My heart suddenly turned into a hard knot and I could only blink at him. "W-what?"

Then he grinned. "It derailed you from Calus, didn't it?"

I gave him my best disapproving frown. "You're mean."

"What?" he asked, "Did you want to marry me?"

I only glared. No, of course I hadn't. Because that would mean that I fancied him and fantasized about kissing him, which I never had…much.

He went on, unbeknownst of my thoughts (thank Merlin). "I would like to talk about something else as well. Miss Weasely, or Mrs. Potter if you will, visited me earlier today."

My heart keeled over right there and my lungs seemed to contract, cutting off the oxygen from my brain. "She did?" Oh, this couldn't be good.

He nodded. "It seems the two of you had a conversation earlier today? About me?"

I felt my head grow heavy from lack of oxygen, thus rested my forehead against his shoulder (ignoring the butterflies that resulted from the move) and groaned into his chest. "What did she say?"

"She told me that if I wanted a quick way to get you in my bed, all I would have to do would be to read you Jane Austen as that tends to put you in a romantic mood."

Oh, my God, I was going to murder Ginny. She told me she wouldn't tell anyone that! I didn't want Snape knowing every intimate detail about me! I most certainly would have cast a ground-opening spell right then and there if it wouldn't have drawn too much attention.

"She also said—"

Oh, bloody hell, there was more!

"That you are attracted to a man who can cook. Especially if they can make cheesecake. She went on to explain that you had this huge fear that you would make an odd noise during the act of lovemaking and once had a dream that you sounded like an elephant. She also said—"

"Could you just please stop and forget everything she told you? Please?" I pleaded into his chest. "Just…oh, Merlin, I am going to kill that woman!"

He chuckled and his chest vibrated. He put his hands on each side of my face and pulled me back so that he could look into my face, which I imagined was an impossible shade of red. "I assure you I won't tell anyone else. But no, I won't forget all she said, as although it is probably none of my business, I do find it entertaining."

"That's all I seem to be doing lately: entertaining you."

"Not on purpose, I assure you."

"You aren't going to let me live this down are you?" I asked with a sinking feeling, my face still cupped in his hands.

"No, but I am feeling charitable so I will drop it for now."

"Thank you." Maybe he wasn't so mean after all.

"Do you think you could seduce the concierge to get us a free dinner here?"

Never mind.

I glowered up at him and he replied by taking my hand and spinning me.

"Lucy?"

I looked to see Lola and Stephen standing directly next to us (but for how long, I wondered).

"I have to use the witch's room," she informed me.

I wasn't so thick that I didn't know she meant me to accompany her, which I was more than willing to do if it meant leaving Snape and his teasings. Even if I would have to listen to more tales of LolaandStephen.

Plus my feet were beginning to hurt and being let off my feet sounded heavenly.

As soon as we entered the ridiculously decorated bathroom (did we really need a fireplace and loveseat?), Lola peered under the stalls.

Turning to me, she grabbed my shoulders and sat me down. "I wanted to tell you earlier but I couldn't find the time."

She looked really worried so I asked if everything was alright.

"I just…I went to St. Mungo's today and I'm…pregnant."

Oh. I'd thought she was going to tell me she had an incurable disease or something.

"Lola, that's brilliant! Was Stephen excited?"

She shook her head gravely. "I haven't told him yet. You see, Lucy, when we began dating he told me he didn't want children yet. What should I do?"

Why do people always come to me for advice on such things? Ninety percent of their circumstances, I've never had myself. I'll just do what I do with others, give my best and try to summon my inner-Ginny. "Tell him. If he loves you like I know he does, he'll love the baby."

"Are you certain?"

"Yeah."

"When do you think I should tell him?"

"Tonight." I told her. "When you two are alone."

"Well, I kind of want to tell him now. Would you mind if we left early or does that seem rude of me?"

I assured her that no, it was fine and that I had things to do. I didn't mention that those things were committing homicide and avoiding Snape.

She asked me to wait for her while she used the loo as this was a thing pregnant women frequently do. Four years later, she washed her hands and we left.

When we returned to the table, where Snape and Stephen were sitting, they halted

their conversation and stood up.

Lola told them, "I'm feeling a bit sleepy."

I admit it was adorable that Stephen immediately grew worried and was at her side as if he feared she might pass out. "Why don't we head home? Do you mind?" He asked Snape and me. We both said no and they tipped the waiter and walked out like a severely deformed animal.

I turned to Snape to say goodbye but found him staring down at my feet in horror. "What the hell were you two doing in there?"

I followed the line of his gaze…and gasped. My feet were bleeding. There were pools of blood spilling from my heels and there was a blister peeking from under my straps on each foot. No wonder my feet felt as if they'd been whipped; they looked as if they had been too!

"Oh, Ellen lent me these. She must not have broken them in yet." I looked up at him. "I'll take them off outside and pop home and soak them."

To my surprise, he shook his head. "No, that won't help them. I have a remedy that would work."

"No, I'm fine—"

In a very authoritive voice not unlike what he used to use instructing his classes, he looked me directly in the eye. "You aren't. You will be off your feet for days if you have your way."

"It's the weekend," I protested. "So I'll have to sit for the duration. That's not too bad." I decided to take a step to show him how fine I was on my own. But when I did so, a blister popped, along with a few nerve endings causing me to nearly keel over in pain. I cried out and had to cling to Snape to keep from doing a full face plant on the cream carpet.

Suddenly, I found myself literally swept off my feet as Snape scooped me up as if I were a feather pillow. I looked up at Snape in shock and in a calm reply, he said, "I'll have none of your Gryffindor arrogance. You're coming with me."

I would have argued about how he could be arrested for kidnapping but it felt brilliant to be off my feet so I only nodded and he Disapparated us.

"This isn't where I live," I said when we reached our destination, which was on the edge of Hogwarts grounds. "Why are we here?"

As he took off down the hill, he answered smoothly, "I said I beheld the cure, did I not? As I am currently living at Hogwarts, and do not, contrary to rumours, carry my entire stock of potions on my person, it makes sense that I might bring you here."

I said nothing the rest of the trip, settling to seethe instead. Well, he was right but did he have to be so damn cocky about it?

Suddenly, Snape's grip on me disappeared. I mean, he just let go of me. I let out a yelp and clung like death was beneath me to his neck to keep from falling. When I looked, he was grinning wolfishly and I felt his arms hold me once again. This all happened in quarter of a heartbeat. Even though I knew he was only doing it to frighten me. I didn't let go of him…just in case.

We entered the castle and I couldn't help but gawp around at the familiar surroundings. I was happy that it hadn't changed at all from the four years I'd been away. It was comforting to see again and I all but sighed in contentment despite the fact that:

I was probably bleeding to death from my feet.

Snape had just recently admitted to knowing some (if not all) my more mortifying secrets and

He was now carrying me. Ok, that bit isn't so bad but it is a bit unnerving how enjoyable it was.

It was when we descended into the dark dungeons that I did grow nervous. I mean, I never really had happy memories there, unless being insulted constantly is what you'd count as happy. And having the source leading me there wasn't pleasing.

Was that Snape going to come back? The one who hated everyone?

When I had run into him (or, rather, he into me), he treated me a lot differently than he had. Sure, he made fun of me and was unafraid of laughing at me. And ok, he was only helping me because it also suited him. But the thing was, he hadn't insulted me. Not once. It sounds small as you might be thinking, "Big deal; loads of people don't insult me everyday." Good point but from someone who affronted everyone daily, who looked down on just about everyone, it was nice to have a break.

But he could start it up again at any moment. In fact, there were many instances where he could easily have slighted me, but hadn't.

And now he was actually helping me!

It was almost too much for a girl to take. So I decided to forget all the depressing thoughts and be thankful that he was being nice.

We arrived at the potions classroom door (he'd returned to teaching the course since he only took the DADA position in order to help carry out the plan to save Dumbledore and himself) and he released the wards.

The room was as black as something really dark and I wondered how, in Merlin's name, he could see where we were going. I mean, I couldn't even see his face, which was only four inches from mine.

We stopped probably in front of his potions cupboard door and he lifted those veils as well. "Inluminus."

It definitely wasn't a potions cupboard; it was a room, a living room to be exact with two doors, one to his bedroom and the other to the loo.

The décor was minimal at best, only holding a sofa, fireplace, and walls and walls of bookshelves heaving with various volumes. I figured he was going to set me on the couch but he turned left before we reached it, and walked through one of the doors.

And, bloody hell, I was in his bedroom. It was as dark as expected, though lacking the estimated shrieking women hanging from the walls. There was an oversized bed floating waist-high, that was, on the left side of the door. Along side the right, there was a dresser, in the corner, a grandfather clock. Next to that was a chest, with a chair in the other corner. There was a huge wardrobe across the room from the dresser as well. A normal average bedroom (minus the fact that the bed was floating). So why did I suddenly feel really, I don't know, intimate?

This only lasted up until the moment he unceremoniously dumped me onto the bed. I bounced around a bit and had to grab onto the comforter to keep from flying off.

"Thanks." I said, not bothering to mask the sarcasm.

You'd think throwing sarcasm around easily himself, Snape'd be able to recognize it immediately. But no, he only said, "You're welcome," as he disappeared through a door I hadn't seen located between the chair and wardrobe. He was back in seconds, holding a tiny vial containing a pale blue liquid.

"Take those off," he instructed, nodding at my feet.

I literally had to peel the shoes off and I swear some of my skin stuck to it. I cast a quick Scouring charm on them to remove the remnants of my feet so Ellen didn't kill me for ruining her shoes. And my feet looked worse with them off, with dried blood and pus everywhere.

I was completely repelled by them. From Snape, I expected, at the very least, some revulsion. Chastisement for my stupidity, I felt quite sure, would soon follow—as if I didn't feel stupid enough.

To my surprise, Snape neither chastised me nor looked disgusted. He merely examined my foot with what I could only describe as almost clinical detachment. He didn't pour the liquid on though but instead aimed his wand at his potions cupboards, causing a small vial of a greenish liquid to fly into his outstretched hand, which he poured onto both my feet, now in his lap, while I rested on my elbows, watching him. There was a slight tingling feeling and the serum completely cleaned my feet, making it easy to see the small volcanoes that were blisters. There was one on the top of each of my feet and one on the heels. Who knew how many were on the bottom.

The blue liquid he poured into the palm of his hand and began gingerly applying it to my feet. This took only seconds and he did it without emotion, but this felt very personal, him touching my feet. I mean, I wasn't weird about people touching them (although I was a bit ticklish), it was just…I can't even describe it.

I then realized something was happening; I was beginning to not feel him rub it in. "Professor? Are my feet supposed to be numb?"

He glanced up while he applied some potion to my big toe. "For a few hours, yes. From the cleaning solution."

"A few hours?" I repeated dumbly. "How am I getting home?"

He cast both bottles back to their places before answering. His inky black eyes leveled on me. "Well, that is up to you. I can either carry you back, or, if you want, you could stay the night here."

Did I misunderstand him? "Here?" My mother's constant nagging about manners suddenly flew into my head. So I added, "I don't want to bother you. But won't carrying me inconvenience you as well?" I couldn't walk as I was currently numb ankle-down. I weighed my options.

STAY

Pros:

1. I wouldn't have to make him carry me again.

2. The bed was comfortable.

3. I wouldn't have to lie if Lola asked me if I ever slept in his bed.

Cons:

1. I would be kicking him out of his bed.

2. I wanted him to sleep in there with me (do not as me why, as this revelation both shocked and disturbed me as well).

GO HOME

Pros:

1. I could sleep in my own bed without constantly thinking of its owner.

2. I wouldn't be kicking him out of his.

Cons:

1. I would have to force him to carry me.

2. I wanted to sleep in his bed.

Well, it was obvious, the only resolution. I sighed. "I'd like to stay here, if you don't mind." He nodded, got up, and pulled one of his drawers open.

His back to me, he said, "If you don't want to sleep in that, I could lend you something of mine. Unless you are uncomfortable doing so."

I was but probably not for the reasons he was thinking. "Thank you; that would be brilliant."

He handed me two pieces of cloth and left the room, promising as he shut the door, that he'd be back in when I called.

I held the clothes in front of me. He'd given me a black button-up shirt and pair of black boxer shorts. Ginny's voice suddenly popped into my head—

"Bloody hell, mate, you're sleeping in his bed, going to fancy dress dinners with him, getting carried around by him, and even wearing his clothes; why don't you just marry the man already?"

I shushed her and got undressed, a slow process when one has to lie down to do so. And thank Merlin the band on the bottoms was elastic because the shirt was quite large on me. Not that Snape was fat--or anywhere near overweight, for that matter--but he was a lot taller with broader shoulders and I felt really small in the shirt, which hung off my shoulders near my elbows. And the bottom of the shirt went far past the boxer shorts. Nevertheless, I was able to dress myself and called out for Professor Snape soon afterward.

He reappeared and summoned my clothes and (evil) shoes to his dresser, where they folded themselves. He stood over me as I covered myself up (the dungeons had yet to warm) and smirked.

"What?" I demanded a little sharply for someone who should be very grateful for the help he'd given me.

He grinned wolfishly again. "I now have you right where I want you."

All bodily functions threw up their hands and quit. I could only stare as one thought raced through my mind: Whenever a man says that to a woman lying in a bed, it could only mean one thing and I don't think it is really necessary for me to elaborate.

But did he mean what I thought he meant? And would I resist, if so?

The answer to both questions was no.

"I think I will now tell you everything Mrs. Potter enlightened me of earlier."

"No, please!" I begged, secretly slightly crestfallen. "I am a helpless woman! It would be cruel to do such a thing to me!"

He smirked and did a quick exhale through his nose. "I suppose I could go easy this once." Then he got serious. "If you need me, just call."

I nodded, thanked him, and he left, shutting the door tightly behind him. I flipped off the light and snuggled down into the warm bed. I was just wondering how I was ever going to be able to sleep, when, next thing I knew, I was off in dream land.

A/N: Who here's jealous of Hermione? Ah well, the best is yet to come...::evil grin::

Oh betas

How intelligent you are

Were I wealthy

I would buy you both cars

R&R!

Next chappie...In which a witch (but which witch?) gets a surprise...