Typical Disclaimers Apply

A/N: All right, so this is part one of my ridiculously, unnecessarily long alternative ending. I wanted it to be one chapter, but that's just not going to happen.

--

(Harry's) Third year. Right after Sirius is rescued. Dumbledore's office.

Dumbledore studied Sirius. "You know, you seem stable and normal. Would you like to become the new defensive arts professor?" Sirius stared at him, looking slightly stunned. Then he smiled and shrugged.

"Sure, why not?" He looked towards Esme and smiled encouragingly. She smiled back; looking like something was trying to burst from her. But she seemed to hold it back. Obligingly, Esme stepped forward, reaching her hand out.

"It's been a pleasure saving your soul," she said, smirking slightly. Sirius smiled, looking stunned once again, and shook her hand loosely.

"That's it?" squawked Rita Skeeter. "A handshake? A handshake does not make headlines!"

--

Fourth year. Near the time of the Yule Ball. The Potions dungeon.

"Miss Slain," Snape said, sounding almost nervous. It was after Esme's last class of the day, so they were left cleaning up together. Snape fidgeted with a jar full of dead lacewing flies.

"You know, you can call me Esme," she said kindly, wiping one of the tables clean.

"Esme," he said, trying it out. He hadn't called her that since she was a child. "I was wondering, and, oh, this is going to sound brash and chauvinistic and horribly traditional…"

"Get on with it," urged Esme, laughing a little. She looked down, siphoning a sticky potion off a desk.

"Well, I was wondering if you would allow me to escort you to the ball." Esme looked up at him, her eyes wide. He began stuttering, his face turning pink. "Y-you know, since Dumbledore wants the professors to have d-d-d-dates." His face was quickly becoming a bright red. "N-not that you would ever want t-to d-date me or anything." Esme was surprised steam wasn't coming out of his ears. "Oh, forget it," he mumbled, turning away to clean another desk. A giggle sounded from behind him. Great! She was laughing at him.

"Come now," Esme giggled. She reached out and touched his hand. "I didn't say no."

--

About an hour before the Yule Ball…

"Professor Slain," Hermione began, sounding like she was about to nag. She and Esme had decided to help each other get ready for the ball. Esme's expertise in Potions had proved necessary for once; Hermione's hair needed quite a bit of help. "Is it true you're attending the ball with," her voice grew very small, "Professor Snape?"

Esme looked at her, shocked. Rumors had been spreading about who was taking whom to the ball, and Esme had heard her name a few times. Still, Hermione seemed like the last person to hear such things. "Who told you?" she asked softly.

"Ron," she squeaked. "He and Harry heard it from the Parvati and Lavender. But he said it's probably because Dumbledore's assigning dates to the teachers, rather than letting them choose. Are you angry?" she finished, staring down at her shoes and practically shrinking into her periwinkle-blue robes. When she dared to glance up, Esme was grinning at her, looking positively radiant.

"I guess the rumor mill only got it half-right this time," Esme said, her eyes alight with joy. "No, Hermione, Severus asked me to the Yule Ball. And I said yes."

Hermione stared at her, shocked. "Do you mind if I ask why?" Esme grinned.

"He's a good man, Hermione. I know he can be a bit abrasive, but inside—and don't tell anybody I said this—he's really a teddy bear." The door opened just as Hermione nearly collapsed giggling. Snape stepped in, keeping his eyes covered for the chance of indecency. Esme saw that, for once, his hair looked clean and shiny. Maybe he'd finally used the shampoo and conditioner sets Dumbledore kept buying him…

"Miss Granger," he began, not removing his hand from over his eyes, "Mr. Krum is waiting for you. All of the champions have to be in the Great Hall with their partners in a few minutes."

"Thanks Professor Snape," Hermione squeaked, rushing past him.

"Severus," Esme said softly. "You can open your eyes." And he did. However, once he regained the ability to see, he lost the ability to speak. His eyes widened, drinking in Esme's slinky silver gown that hugged her curves in all the right places.

"Um," he finally gasped. "You look…wow." A blush crept up his cheeks. Esme smiled at him.

"You look wow too, Severus," she laughed. It was true. His hair and skin were clean and, though his dress robes were black, they were properly fitted and showed off his trim figure. Both of them smiling, she took his arm and they made their way into the procession of professors.

The students seemed rather shocked that their teachers could be anything other than dowdy and conservative, so no one was really surprised at the gasps and shrieks emitting from the audience. And they had every reason to gasp and shriek. McGonagall and Dumbledore both looked absolutely lovely. Sirius Black, the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher was quite dashing, even when he wasn't dressed to the nines (Esme knew for a fact that several girls were planning on making him their Valentine). And both Esme and Professors Sprout and Sinistra had chosen to show an alarming amount of cleavage.

Still, the person getting the most stares, gasps, and cat calls was Snape. And it was making him blush harder than ever.

"They're just surprised you agreed to go with me," he muttered, tucking into his dinner.

"Well why wouldn't I? I mean, you are ridiculously handsome, charming, and chivalrous…Oh wait, no, that's not you, is it?" He swatted her lightly on the arm.

"Would you like to dance?" he said to someplace past Esme's left ear, after dinner had finished.

"I would love to dance," she said. She took his hand and, after a few minutes of fumbling, he interlaced his fingers with hers. He laid a hand on her waist as she placed one on his shoulder and, carefully, they began to dance.

"Ow," she flinched as he treaded upon her toe.

"Sorry," he apologized, quickly stepping away from her. "I'm so sorry, Esme. I'm a terrible dancer. I—" She put on a finger on his lips.

"It's fine, Severus," she said softly. She wasn't giggling anymore. "Do I look upset?" No. She didn't look upset. In fact she looked radiant. Even her eyes were shining. He reached out and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, and then he took her hands. The tournament, the ball, the entire outside world seemed to melt away with one simple action. They inched closer to each other, hearts pounding. He dropped her hands and wrapped his arms around her back. They were so close their foreheads nearly touched…

"Severus!" a voice sounded from the outside world. The spell broke. They were standing in the middle of a crowded dance floor. A few couples were staring at them. Out of the corner of her eye, Esme saw Percy smirking at her. He was obviously writing his letter to Molly in his head. Karkaroff was behind Snape.

"Yes," Snape muttered through clenched teeth.

"I need to see you outside, now." He looked at Esme and quickly added, "Alone." Snape looked back at Esme. She shrugged, and he turned and left.

Esme wanted to cry. Or kill Karkaroff. They both seemed like good options. "I guess that's what you get for dating a Death Eater." Sirius was standing behind her, sneering back at where Snape had been.

"What are you talking about," she snapped quickly.

"Oh, come on!" he practically shouted. "You've seen the Mark. You were there last summer; you know what he's capable of."

"Severus is a good man, Sirius. I know you two have a past, but he's a good man."

"He tried to turn me over to the Dementors, Esme."

"He wasn't thinking clearly. He's a good man, Sirius," she repeated.

"Fine," he smirked at her. "It's your funeral."

Esme stormed out of the castle, wishing she had a wrap once the cold air hit her. She shivered. Perhaps leaving the castle wasn't the best idea. Still, she wandered down the paths, not bothering to blast apart the canoodling couples in the bushes. Let them have their fun, she thought bitterly.

At one point she came to one of the highest snow-covered bushes, and heard a familiar voice. For a second she thought she saw a flash of red hair a few paths away (most likely a sibling), but it disappeared beneath the snow banks. She listened close for strains of the familiar voice,

"…I, however, am remaining at Hogwarts." It was definitely Snape, and he was definitely displeased. She pushed her way through the snow-covered bush, probably the dumbest idea ever, as she was wearing no wrap or shawl, and fought her way onto his path.

"Severus!" she gasped, still shaking off bits of snow.

"Esme?" He quickly pushed Karkaroff away and rushed to her side.

"I'm sorry, I heard you talking, I shouldn't have gone through the bushes…"

"No, no, it's fine," he laughed. "I'm glad you're here," he said, hugging her tightly. "But you're freezing! Why did you go through the bushes? Here take this," he wrapped his heavy black cape around her before she could respond. Then he laughed again. "You amaze me Esme."

Then, without any pretense or fade from reality, Esme got up on her toes and kissed him full on the mouth.

--

For awhile after the kiss, nothing happened. After all, they'd supposedly gone to the dance as "just friends." Although several students had seen the kiss, none of them were brave enough to confront the two teachers know for their sporadic temperaments and bizarre punishments. They did, however, make a few choice comments when Esme found a dozen long-stem roses sitting on her desk on Valentine's Day. Fortunately she was in too much of a happy daze to kill the commentators.

Finally it was time for the Third Task. After the four champions had trudged into the freakishly huge maze, the hundreds of spectators had relatively nothing to do. So they did nothing.

"Esme," Snape finally said, after a half an hour sitting in awkward silence, "we haven't really talked for awhile."

"Well, you know," Esme said, fingering her hair and looking away. "Work and all…"

"Esme," he said firmly. "We need to talk. I—I think we should date." Esme looked back at him. "I know, it's unlikely your parents will approve, and if the students find out, it would be terrible…You're right, we shouldn't date," he concluded.

"We don't have to tell the students," she mused. Snape stared. "And I doubt my parents would have a problem. I mean, you have a job—"

"And a past," he said softly.

"It doesn't matter to me. We all make mistakes, don't we? You're only human."

"The mistakes I've made are quite different than the mistakes others have made." He got up to leave, "I should never have brought this up." He left the arena, Esme running after.

"Severus, stop," she said firmly, grabbing the back of his robes once they'd left the pitch. She pushed him up against the wall, "Now we can do this the easy way, and you can date me like you want to," she paused pushing him harder against the wall. "Or, I can stalk you until you date me like I want you to." He looked down at her, amused.

"You're scary," he said, leaning down to kiss her.

--

"What do you mean, You-Know-Who came back to life when we were gone?!"

--

Fifth Year. Midsummer. Number 12 Grimmauld Place.

"Giving a report. Top secret."

"Git," said Fred idly.

"He's on our side now," said Hermione reprovingly.

"And he's dating Esme," Ginny said bracingly. Harry, Ron, and the twins turned to her, clearly mortified. Hermione shrugged her shoulders and nodded, confirming the statement.

"Since when?" gasped Fred.

"You didn't wonder why he was always staying for dinner?" Hermione giggled. It was true; Snape had begun to stay after meetings. He and Esme would sit together, talking quietly, then their eyes would meet and they'd smile. Then Molly would positively beam at them. It was enough to make the boys sick.

"And," Ginny said, her eyes sparkling, "Bill said that Fleur Delacour said that she saw them snogging after the Yule Ball!"

"Urgh!" the boys moaned, each turning a different shade of green.

"But they're trying to keep it a secret, especially from students," Hermione noted.

"How do you know all this?" Ron was clearly aghast. He too was under the impression that Esme and Snape were "just friends."

"I asked Mum," Ginny said, giggling, "and she just smiled and said she didn't know a thing. Now, either that means Esme told her and she's forbidden to tell us, or Esme hasn't told her and she just has her suspicions."

"You know," George said, twirling what looked like a piece of flesh-colored string, "the meeting's almost over, and we could see if she 'sees him to the door.'" He raised his eyebrows lecherously. One by one, the group filed into the hallway above the foyer. They could see some Order members leaving. Snape and Esme were among them. He was pulling on an old traveling cloak while she bade farewell to the members. Finally, it was only her and Snape left. That's when they dropped their ears.

"Will I see you again this week?" They heard Esme ask, so clear she could have been in the hall next to them.

"I hope so," there was Snape, but it didn't sound like Snape. His voice was soft and gentle, almost loving. It made their stomachs churn. "I'd rather be here than anywhere else." Then there was a horrible, terrible sound: lips meeting lips. Everyone yanked their Extendable Ears out.

"Oh God," Ron moaned, sliding to the floor. "Why Snape? Why not Flitwick, or somebody?"

"You know," Ginny said, her voice shaking, but also rather loud, "if they're dating, they're probably sleeping together."

"You know," said a cool voice that made them all jump out of their skin, "not only can we see you from down here, we can also hear you." Standing at the bottom of the stairs was Esme, her eyebrows raised and her mouth stretching into a frown.

"And to answer your question, Ginny," Snape appeared behind Esme, smirking, his arm wrapping around her waist. "No, your sister, and Potions professor, and I are not having sex."

All in all, it was a rather disconcerting summer.

--

"You're still being absolutely horrible to the students, you know," Snape noted one day after class. Esme had been rather horrible to the students, but, true to her form, they were only Slytherins.

"Of course I am, I don't want them to start wondering why I'm happy. Anyway, you're being just as awful." She looked over at him and smirked, "Would you like me to start treating them nicely?"

"Of course not! Your cruelty's what I love about you!" he said, his tone layered in sarcasm.

"That's what you love about me?" she asked incredulously.

"Well, there are other things too."

--

Mid-October. Outside the Potions Dungeon

"You know," Ron said, after a class of gaining homework and losing House points, "you'd think Snape might be a happier, kinder person after dating Esme."

"Really, Ron," Hermione questioned, pushing her textbook back into her bag, "would dating Esme make anyone a happier person?"

--

Mid-December, near end-of-term. Snape's quarters.

"You have a single bed?" Esme asked coolly, fighting to hide the flicker of a smile pulling at her lips.

"If it was any bigger we wouldn't be able to walk in here," Snape mumbled into her hair, pressing tiny kisses up her neck. The couple moved to the bed, their bodies intertwining, hands grasping at robes. Finally, Snape worked his fingers through the last of the buttons and slipped Esme's robe off to finally reveal…a navy hooded sweatshirt. He stared at her for a moment, and then roughly pulled it over her shoulders.

"Is it really that cold in here?" he asked, eyeing the lime green sweater residing under the sweatshirt.

"Not everyone has your stupid Arctic genes," she muttered back, helping him to remove the sweater. And the oxford blouse. And the cotton t-shirt and camisole, until he was finally down to just struggling with her bra.

However, just as Snape was figuring out the clasps, there came a sharp knock at the door, and Minerva McGonagall burst in, her cheeks flushed and her hair falling out of its normally strict bun. "Severus!" she cried. "Have you any idea where—?" But her question was quickly answered as Esme popped up from under Snape's duvet, still clutching her bra to her chest.

"Hello Minerva!" she chirped. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Oh, well," she flush in her cheeks had spread to her entire face and down her neck. "You weren't in your room….You see; your father is, ahem, in the hospital. Suffered a rather nasty bite…."

"Damn it," Snape muttered under his breath as Esme pulled on an old dressing gown.

--

"Well, my father's going to be fine. We just visited him yesterday, and he's doing a lot better." It was January second and already Order meetings had restarted. If Esme ignored Moody's shock of pink hair and Tonks's new glass eye, she could almost pretend that the holidays hadn't just ended. But for now, her life was revolving around one person.

"Esme," Snape said, his black eyes shining. He'd been to the Grimmauld Place more often than any other Member, disregarding those who lived there, and it was becoming more and more difficult to hide the fact that they were…involved. "Have you ever thought about getting married?"

Esme stared at him for a moment, and then answered with a small, sly smile. "I can neither confirm nor deny that I've had those thoughts. But yes, I have had them."

"At times I think you're so clever," he noted, "but then you open your mouth again."

--

Late Spring, near end-of-term. Esme's office.

A harsh banging on her door forced Esme to look away from her new copy of Witch Weekly. "Come in," she called exasperatedly.

"Esme, it's an emergency," Snape said instantly. She sighed.

"It's always an emergency. Did one of the kids put poison in the food again?"

"No," he paused for a moment. "He had your parents." Esme felt the blood leave her face as her heart hammered in her ear.

"Voldemort?" she said in a light voice.

"Yes," he said, in a sort of forced calm. Esme noticed how badly his hands were shaking and how his fast, although normally pale, looked almost translucent in the dim light of her office.

"How do you know?"

"Harry, he had some sort of vision. Dumbledore said this might happen. I think he's gone off to the Ministry; a saw some things fly past. I've already contacted the Order."

"Well, what're you waiting for?" she cried. "Let's go!"

"No," he said firmly. "Kingsley told me specifically not to send anyone from the school down there. We'll raise suspicions if we do. Black's staying back too."

Esme sighed, defeated. "Fine." Then she added quietly, "I don't really care for Black. He smells like a dog."

"Yeah, I don't like him either."

--

Esme's gaze washed over Harry, Ron, Hermione (lying in an infirmary bed), Tonks, Kingsley, Remus, Sirius, her parents (who, apparently, had not been held captive), other various Order members, Dumbledore, and finally landed on Snape and narrowed dangerously. "So, there was a huge fight where we basically kicked Death Eater arse in every possible way, and you kept me home?" Snape smiled and shrugged apologetically. She shook her head, "That's it; we are not friends anymore."

"Yes, um about that," said Snape, slightly stumbling over his words. For a second he glanced at Dumbledore, who nodded encouragingly. Slowly, he lowered himself onto one knee. "Esme, I really think we're more than friends," he reached into his robe pocket and pulled out a small, velvet box. "Will you marry me?"

--

A/N: The next update shall be my last (for this story…I have an election to write!), until then, please review!