Alright folks, we have come to the end of Part One, but this story isn't over! ;)

I'm kind of glad that this part is over. I can now move on with the plot and see what happens when our couple arrive at Hogwarts. As always, massive thanks to my wonderful beta, FawkesyLady. She's just amazing, and she is currently spoiling me with a lovely Christmas fic called 'Trahe Me, Post Te' which you should totally read if you haven't already.

Alright, enjoy the chapter, and don't forget to let me know what you think!

Spinner's End was a bleak and miserable place, where greenery and trees were few and far between among the rows of identical terraced houses. Sharon perched comfortably in one of those rare trees, one that she had claimed as her own ever since she arrived years prior, and was waiting for Barry to come back. He had been gone for a long time, and Sharon was growing impatient, since he had promised to take her out on a rendez-vous among the factory ruins, where a lot of tasty prey could be found. His insufferable Human had sent him out to deliver mail in the early morning. By now, the sun was high in the sky and Barry was nowhere to be seen.

Sharon had observed the Human in question in passing on a number of occasions, and her owl intuition told her that she was a truly infernal character. Unlike her own human-pet, who was elegant, gentle and courteous, Barry's yellow-haired ape was ill-bred and noisy, with no consideration for owlish naptimes. Barry, bless his tortured soul, complained about her frequently, and if his recounts of the terrible treatment he had suffered were to be believed, she was truly the worst kind of Human-pet an owl could possibly keep. Sharon snorted delicately, wondering why he even bothered to stay. Surely an owl as lovable and kind-hearted as Barry would have no trouble finding a loving Human somewhere else.

The pervasive heat wave that held Greater Manchester in its tight grip for most of August had finally remitted after a heavy summer squall treated Cokesworth to a hard rain reminiscent of the hosing down Barry had to endure weekly, and Sharon privately thought the grimy town could have used another once over. As such, the day was ideal for napping. Shielded from the shining sun in her little spot on the branch, Sharon had the most perfect vantage point, overlooking her and Barry's respective territories. She was more than happy to look after his kingdom when he was away - it simply would not do to allow a rogue owl to come and steal their prey now, would it? Ever the picture of statuesque beauty and patience, Sharon continued to wait.

At long last, she spotted him, a small dot on the horizon growing increasingly larger as it flew towards her at neck-breaking speed. Soon he came into view, flapping his enormous wings with feathers spread like silky fans, cutting through the air with strength worthy of a thestral as he made his way home. In his beak he carried a thick brown envelope, and he only shot Sharon a quick glance of acknowledgement as he began circling the estate, initiating his descent. Judging by this, Sharon could tell that he was carrying a missive of high importance, his entire concentration narrowed to delivering it swiftly and safely.

She was glad to see him return, as she had been growing bored. She began grooming her feathers impatiently, wanting to look her best. It wouldn't be appropriate to let him think that she had been sitting here and minding his business so passionately. Or worse - that she had been missing him. It would only be appropriate to appear nonchalant, to keep him on his talons. After all, she was a refined owl who could not afford to appear too easy to get, was she not?

After a last sharp turn, Barry swooped down and flew inside with the accuracy of an arrow, choosing to enter via the window rather than the wide-open door, presumably to show off his skill and precision. Sharon chuckled under her breath, not at all fooled. This owl had all the grace of a blast-ended skrewt. Only last week, she had talked him into finding her a snake, and the poor sod had gone out hunting, not knowing that he would be hard pressed to find such a specimen in this area. He had returned triumphant some time later, carrying what appeared like an old, deflated bicycle tyre in his beak, and dropped the sad piece of rubber at her feet, pronouncing it an enchanted snake that was eating its own tail. Sharon struggled not to break out in squawks of unbecoming laughter at the memory - Barry was dafter than daft, but she guessed that it was part of his undeniable charm.

As she checked her feathers again, ensuring that they were as flat, shiny and beautiful as possible, a sudden noise made her jump and take to the air in surprise. Distressed, she rotated her head towards the source of the commotion just in time to see Barry as he flew out of the house like a projectile missile, riding on the bow-wave of a barely human shriek, so piercing that it rattled windows throughout the project. Eyes wide and glowing, he almost broke the sound barrier in his bid to escape, chased by the head-splitting sound.

'HE DID WHAT?!'

Alice entered the Headmaster's office unceremoniously and without invitation, like a stink bomb catapulted inside a classroom window by a rogue student hell-bent on causing vandalism and disruption. Like Caligula poised for attack on Neptune, she stalked towards Dumbledore's desk, bent at the waist, clutching a rolled-up envelope menacingly. Her scowl twisted her features with repressed rage, a rictus of unrestrained fury just waiting for a target to present itself. Her hands clenched into fists and a whole body tremor warned any with eyes to see that her control was as tenuous as the gossamer strands of a spider's web that had caught a prey rather larger than the creature intended. In a fit of pique, she crossed the remaining distance between herself and the Headmaster in a few short strides and tossed the shiny new badge that Barry had delivered earlier that day onto the desk, where it skipped like a stone thrown at water with a loud clinking sound.

Pinning the old wizard with a glare worthy of a homicidal maniac, she growled, 'Head Girl?! Are you INSANE?!'

Dumbledore looked at her through his half-moon glasses, smiling beatifically as though he did not understand the reason behind her anger. 'Ah, Miss Crowley. My mental faculties are doing just fine, although your concern is appreciated. How may I help you today?' He steepled his fingers on the desk's surface and lifted his eyebrows in casual interest. 'I see that you received your badge?'

'What are you playing at?!' Leaning forward, she placed both hands on Dumbledore's desk and spread out her fingers in her best Professor Snape impression. She hissed, 'I can't be Head Girl! I don't want to be Head Girl! Is this your idea of revenge?!'

Unperturbed by her attempt at intimidation, Dumbledore pushed his bowl of lemon drops in her direction. 'Lemon drop?' He asked, and shrugged habitually as she declined with a shake of her head. 'I have no idea what you're talking about, Miss Crowley. Why would I wish to exact revenge?'

'Because I know what you're like, that's why!' She spat, wishing that she could pick up that stupid bowl of stupid lemon drops and smash it into his stupid face. 'No good deed goes unpunished.'

The Headmaster leaned back in his chair and began rolling his thumbs relaxedly, a facsimile of a good-natured smile plastered across his mouth. 'I am afraid that you've got the wrong end of the stick, Miss Crowley. Head Girl is an important role and a great honour, and I had hoped that you would rise to the challenge. I am sorry to see that it is not the case.'

Baring her teeth, Alice banged her fist on the desk. 'I know this is just another one of your twisted schemes. And what exactly am I supposed to do with this great, unsolicited honour? And what's next, eh? Filch teaching Charms?'

Dumbledore chuckled in reply, causing Alice to inhale sharply. His dismissive attitude only fanned the flames of her fury, and she ground out, 'The other students hate me. The teachers hate me. I'm not doing this.'

Dumbledore tilted his head to one side. 'Nobody hates you, Miss Crowley, please, do not exaggerate. I admit that the staff were a little… surprised when I announced you as the new Head Girl in the meeting last night, but we eventually agreed that this is an excellent opportunity for you to come out of your shell, so to speak. What's more, we hope that your new rank will motivate you to make more effort in your classes.'

Alice's voice was laced with desperation as she left his desk and began pacing around, searching for a way out of this madness. 'How can you expect me to cope with school work, my job, the Essence, and now this as well? Why can't somebody else do it? Cho Chang is an excellent student and very popular, surely she deserves the role far more than I?!'

'Miss Chang is indeed very bright and popular, but she… is not in the right emotional state to carry out the Head Girl duties. Yes, Miss Crowley, she is still grieving, and for that reason I would rather not place any more responsibility on her shoulders. She is going to remain a Prefect.'

Her reply died on her tongue as he held up one hand.

'My decision is final. Whatever you might think of me, please try to not look at this situation with such negativity. For all you know, this might turn out to be a wonderful experience.'

The shock to Alice's system was too great to bear. Feeling her chest constrict dangerously, she fell back into the chair behind her, taking in small, quick breaths and burying her head in her hands, her escape routes cut off by the devil in disguise before her. 'This isn't fair.' She sobbed, unable to control the shaking of her body.

'Miss Crowley… Alice. Are you alright?'

She winced at this attempt at familiarity. This kind, grandfatherly persona was unsettling. She would appreciate it a lot more if he did not try to cover up his callousness, at least not around her. She looked up at him with hollow eyes that glittered with unimaginable hatred, her eyelashes clumped together by the fat tears, her mascara spread all around her cheeks. She shook her head to the negative in disgust and disbelief, the corners of her thinned lips pointed downwards, as though the man standing before her reminded her of a heap of rotting meat.

Dumbledore sighed heavily. 'I know this is a lot to ask of you, but there is no other way. You will carry on working on the Essence in a small lab attached to your bedroom. You will patrol the corridors, and you will extend a helping hand to any student who might need it.'

Alice's breathing quickened. She let out a quiet whimper, her eyes widening in terror as she processed the job description, each word more horrifying than the last.

'You will be working closely with the staff, the Head Boy and the Prefects to ensure that the school runs smoothly. In many ways, you will be the link between the student body and the Professors. Twice a week, you will spend your lunch break in the library, where you will assist younger students with their homework. You will also check up on first year Gryffindors and help them if necessary - many first years tend to get very homesick in the first weeks of term.'

Alice leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes, searching for calm. She could feel another, fresh wave of tears coming on, and fought hard against it, determined not to humiliate herself like this. Nothing could be done about the overwhelming, all-consuming sense of panic that twisted her guts into tight knots, or the weight on her chest, threatening to crush her lungs.

Dumbledore continued. 'Your attendance will be mandatory at all Quidditch matches, where you will help to police the crowd. You will carry out chaperone duties during Hogsmeade trips. You will assist with decorating the school for Christmas and other holidays, and you will do anything else that's asked of you in order to help the school and its students.'

If there was a God, he was a monster - a monster who had abandoned Alice in her hour of need. Abruptly, she stood up, ready to fight like a mother-dragon, having marked the Headmaster as her eternal enemy. 'You bastard!' Her voice rose to a furious roar. 'You utter twat! Evil fucking scumbag, why don't you just fucking die already?!'

Alice's outburst was met by a choir of gasps and yelps coming from the gallery of portraits on the nearby wall, some of them covering their mouths and clutching their pearls, others scowling at her in outrage. Soon, all hell broke loose with the painted witches and wizards yelling over one another, a cacophony of voices quick to express their censure.

'How unbecoming!'

'Have you heard this?!'

'Such disrespect!'

A snide, dusty voice broke out amid the chaos. 'Well, well, well!'

The attention of everybody in the room, living and dead, shifted to the tall bookcase on top of which sat the Sorting Hat, scowling down at Alice through its ancient leather folds. 'Isn't this the young Alice Crowley? Oh, but of course - I would recognise this lack of manners anywhere. Unfortunately, I see that nothing had changed. How very disappointing.'

Alice blushed bright red, narrowing her grey eyes at the Hat. In for a penny, in for a pound. Placing her hand on her hip, she bellowed, 'And what do you want, you mouldy old bag?! Haven't you been eaten by moths yet?!'

The Hat's point shot up towards the ceiling before curling downwards in a slow, exaggerated motion. It seemed to consider the seething witch carefully before uttering, 'I see that you had managed to rid yourself of the lice. An improvement, I suppose. Your nasty attitude, however, seems to remain intact!'

Alice ground out, 'I. Didn't. Have. Lice.'

The Hat chuckled darkly. 'Oh, but you did. Trust me, I shudder at the very memory. It took me a long time to free myself of them after your head darkened my brim.'

This was the straw that broke the camel's back. Alice trotted over to the bookcase and grasped its edges in a white-knuckled grip. Like a woman deranged, she began shaking it violently, growling at the top of her lungs like a banshee.

'I'LL FUCKING GET YOU! COME DOWN HERE, YOU MANKY OLD DISHCLOTH, AND I'LL FUCKIN' SHOW YOU!'

The forceful jiggling of the bookcase caused the Hat to slide dangerously close to the edge. Alice's mouth stretched into a wide, cruel smile of excited, morbid anticipation. Like an acromantula waiting for its victim to fall into its trap, her eyes flew wide with wild savagery, her hands ready and itching to tear the pestilent artifact into a million pieces.

'ALICE CROWLEY!'

Dumbledore's deafening voice reverberated around the office, piercing through wood and stone, shaking the castle down to the foundations.

The portraits covered their ears, some leaving their frames in a rush to seek quietude somewhere else. Fawkes, startled by the outburst, covered his head beneath his wing. Alice froze, abruptly snapping out of her fury. She turned around with eyes as wide as saucers. Dumbledore was in the middle of the room, his spine stretched to his full height, a thunderous scowl plastered across his face.

The saintly smile had bled from his face, and he took a half-step towards her, jabbing his finger in her direction as he said, 'I have been lenient with you for far too long.'

The Headmaster towered over her, powerful and frightening. Alice swallowed against the lump that had formed in her throat, knowing that this time she had gone too far. Damn and blast, why could she never keep her mouth shut when appropriate?!

'As Head Girl, you will be held to much higher standards. I will not tolerate such deplorable behaviour in this school. Twenty points will be taken from Gryffindor, and for the first six weeks of term, you will spend every Wednesday evening in the greenhouses. You may use this kind of vile language in your own home, but in this castle, you will behave like a civilised person.'

Alice, shocked into silence, stared at Dumbledore and concentrated on breathing steadily in an effort to contain the hysteria that simmered beneath the surface. Everything about Dumbledore's demeanour suggested that she was now treading on very thin ice and that his patience had now reached its end. Like a rat under a kneazle's gaze, she could only nod, not daring to argue any further, not daring to move a muscle.

Dumbledore stopped scowling, but his expression was still hard as he said, 'After the Sorting Ceremony, you will report for duty with the Head Boy and the Prefects.' He handed her a large piece of parchment. 'I expect you to read this carefully. This contains all of your new rights and responsibilities.'

He picked up the discarded Head Girl badge and walked to where Alice stood, handing it to her. 'Do not let me down.'

Alice nodded again. She could not find her voice. Fighting back tears, she picked up the badge from his outstretched hand, shuddering as her hand made contact with his. As she clutched the badge and the parchment, Dumbledore gave her a tight-lipped smile.

'You may go.'

Alice did not have to be told twice. Swallowing her shame, she sprinted into the Floo like a Firebolt, and as the green flames carried her home, she could hear Dumbledore telling the Hat in no uncertain terms that its goading was absolutely unacceptable. It did nothing to make her feel better.

Severus entered Alice's kitchen through the back door without knocking, as was his habit by now, and tossed the chocolate bar onto the countertop absent mindedly. He carried a bag of groceries in his hand, ready to be made into a delicious beef stew with dumplings that seemed to be Crowley's favourite.

The past week had gone like a dream. Two days after leaving her care, Severus knocked on her door in the morning to ask if there was anything she needed from the shop, as he was just on his way to pick up some cigarettes. Crowley asked him to pick up some foodstuffs for her, and when he returned, she invited him in for breakfast. And lunch. And dinner. And smoked most of his cigarettes. Severus was surprised and even a little giddy when she handed him her spare set of keys and said, 'Just let yourself in will ye, and don't stand there bangin' on me door like a bloody loon.'

Since then, he had been visiting her daily. He brought enough food to feed them both every day, since he usually ended up staying at her place till late. They would usually brew together or watch television, and Severus discovered that he was quite partial to 'Question Time'. Although he would never admit, he could quite happily spend all day glued to Crowley's state of the art television set - how she got her hands on it, he had no idea, and decided it safer not to bother asking.

They were getting on splendidly. They certainly seemed to share a sense of humour, and often ended up laughing together, holding their stomach and in stitches. They also quarrelled over any old thing, and at least once a day one of them would storm out of the house and go to the nearby park to calm down whilst the other put the kettle on. When the defector returned, they would share a cuppa and carry on with their day until next time. Severus was slowly coming around to the idea of having a friend - he was certainly reluctant to call her that, although all the earthly and celestial signs seemed to be indicating that indeed, he did have a friend in Alice Crowley.

His little freeloader seemed very happy to consume anything that Severus cooked, and would often help herself to his cigarettes. Every morning he would find a pot of awful tea waiting for him under Stasis, and he would read his paper as he waited for the bone-idle Sleeping Beauty to have her lie in and drag her bony, yet decidedly cracking arse downstairs.

How was he supposed to explain to this sweet little harridan that things would have to change, he did not know. His decision to cook the most amazing stew in living history was intentional. Term would start in two days, and he had to leave tonight.

In two days, he would have to go back to playing his role as the Bat of the Dungeons, the reviled, cruel Professor with no human feelings to speak of. He wondered if she would understand. He wondered if she could be trusted not to appear too familiar with him. He wondered if their friendship would survive outside of Spinner's End.

He was willing to do his best to make sure that it did.

Severus looked around the kitchen. She wasn't there, which was not that unusual - he would often find her in her basement lab, her thin brows wrinkled in intense concentration as she brewed, completely oblivious to the world around her. Unhurriedly, he put the shopping away and placed some food in her owl's tray. He had been formally introduced to that infernal bird a few days later, and decided that Barry was an extraordinarily horrible bird, loud and obnoxious and primitively aggressive - very different from his own beloved bird, Sharon, who surely would never dream of behaving in such a manner.

He smiled lightly, his heart warming at the thought of his perfect owl, and wondered if she would approve of Crowley. He would have to introduce them at some point, preferably without that cretinous excuse for a familiar lurking about. He would only upset his precious ladybird, that's for sure, and we couldn't have that, could we?

He stepped into the hallway and noticed that the door under the stairs was shut. How odd. Just as he was about to go downstairs to investigate, a muffled sob caught his attention. He walked towards the sitting room door and found the door shut. Knocking gently, he called out, 'Crowley?'

The door opened seconds later. There stood Crowley, her face swollen and blotchy, her eyes as red and wet as her nose. She sniffed inelegantly and opened the door wider, inviting him in without a word.

Concerned, Severus asked, 'Are you alright?'

She let out a loud, high-pitched wail. Unexpectedly, she ran up to him and buried her face in his chest, wrapping her skinny arms around his neck. Severus embraced her reflexively, wondering what had shaken her up so badly. 'Alright, Crowley?' He asked again, quietly into her ear.

'I don't… want… be… Head Giiiirl!' She sobbed into his chest, her voice hoarse and nasal, her tears wetting his coat.

Ah. That. Severus wrinkled his brow, mildly confused. 'Whyever not? It's a good thing. Why are you so upset?'

'You don't understaaaand!' She howled and sobbed loudly, her lithe form shaking in his arms. Without realising, Severus started rubbing her back in small, soothing circles. This was an odd reaction, but then, was there anything about this girl that wasn't?

'Then explain,' he prompted.

She rambled, 'I don't want to interact with other students and I don't want to help them with homework in the library and I hate Quidditch and I hate Hogsmeade and I hate talking to people and I don't want to help out with decorations and I don't want people to stare at me and I just want to be left alone and, and, and…'

She broke into a fresh fit of tears, and Severus began swaying them gently from side to side, hoping to the heavens above that he was doing the right thing. Comforting distressed witches was not his forte, but this time, he was willing to at least try. All the while, he was processing her woes, and found that actually, it all made sense. He was now used to this outspoken Crowley, but remembered the very different, quiet and subdued Miss Crowley he had known, and sympathised. He too was not exactly comfortable with other people in his youth, although he had grown out of it by the time he was her age.

'Shush, girl, don't cry. Think of the perks.'

She looked up at him and exclaimed dramatically, 'There are no perks to this!'

Severus chuckled, which was apparently the wrong thing to do, since she was now scowling at him nastily. 'Oh, but there are!' He said, and led her gently to the settee. When she was comfortably seated, he explained, 'You know you're going to have your own room, don't you?'

She nodded and sniffed, a picture of anguish and misery.

Severus continued, 'You will also have your own bathroom. Think - you will have your very own space to clean as much and as often as you like!'

Crowley considered that for a long moment. 'My dormmates are a bunch of slatterns, you know. They don't make their beds, and they don't fold their knickers into squares in the drawers.'

Severus had to remind himself not to laugh. Really, in his personal opinion, not folding one's knickers was not reason enough to call somebody a 'slattern' - this was Crowley, however, whose impossible standards caused her to have all sorts of insane ideas. Instead, he put on his best sympathetic face and nodded solemnly. He then said, 'You won't have a curfew and you will be able to order food directly to your bedroom - so if you wake up in the middle of the night craving beef stew with some trifle for dessert, you will get just that.'

Crowley had found some tissues and was now blowing her nose loudly, like a little elephant. 'I like trifle.' She muttered.

'Well, there you go then. And…' Severus hesitated for a minute, his own insecurity making him wonder if she would consider this a perk. 'You will be able to, um, see me in the evenings.'

Alice's face brightened a fraction, her eyes widening in what looked like hopeful anticipation. 'I will?' She breathed, leaning forwards like a child in awe.

Severus cleared his throat. 'Head Girl and Boy would normally make their reports to Minerva. She deals with that, being Deputy Head. This year, however, she will be… busy, so I volunteered to do it instead.'

'You did?!' Crowley squealed and sat up straight. Her wide smile reached her puffy eyes, and at his answering nod, she said, 'Well, that changes everything, donnit?! I was so worried that I… that you… that you and I… oh gosh, Snape, this is great!'

Severus smiled. A warmth spread across his chest as he realised that she really, genuinely wanted to keep his friendship. He had more good news in his sleeve, news that had cost him a heated private argument with Dumbledore. 'You will also be allowed to come home most weekends, unless you're needed in school. This way, you will be able to develop your crazy potions for the Weasleys. And I guess it'll be an opportunity for you to escape the hustle and bustle.'

Crowley giggled. Then, she started laughing hysterically, rocking back and forth in her seat, covering her face in her hands. Abruptly, the laughter died on her tongue and she turned to face him, once again serious and visibly unsure. 'You… um. Do you come home at the weekends?'

'Would you like me to?' Severus raised one eyebrow, seemingly calm and collected, although his heart was dancing the can-can and he had to remind himself to breathe as he waited for her answer.

'Yes, I mean, yes, if you can, I mean, if you want, I mean…' Crowley gestured widely before slumping her shoulders. 'Of course I would like you to come. Here.'

Severus swallowed thickly. 'Then I will do my best to come as often as I can.' After a brief pause, he added, 'Do you feel better now?'

'Yes.' Crowley drew in a shuddering breath. 'Much better. I still don't want to be Head Girl and I don't know how I'm going to do this, but… ah. Thank you, Snape. You're a good'un.'

Slapping his knees, Severus rose from the settee. They still had much to discuss, but really, it could wait until later. He reached inside his pocket and produced his cigarettes. As they lit up, an idea sparked inside his head.

'How would you feel about going to the pub for lunch?' He asked carefully, avoiding her gaze. Immediately he knew he had made a mistake - she may have enjoyed his company within these walls, but surely she would not wish to be seen with him outside.

Seconds passed without a reply, and Severus tensed, recognising her rejection. It was therefore a great shock to him when she asked quietly, 'You want to take me out on a date?'

Severus' hair stood on end, and he rushed to explain, 'No no, of course not, I didn't…'

He was cut off by Crowley's excited squeal. 'Eee! We're going out on a date!' Her voice rose in pitch to near-whistle register. Waving her hands, she gestured for him to sit back down. 'Right, wait here, I'm just going to get ready. A date, a date, we're going out on a date!'

She bolted out of the sitting room and up the stairs, leaving a very confused Severus in her wake. Really, he did not quite mean it like that, but it didn't seem right to correct her assumption. It wasn't such a dreadful idea at all - quite the opposite, in fact, and it wasn't like they had to… no, best not go there. All of this was absolutely insane, and Severus found himself smoking one cigarette after another, trying but not quite managing to contain his excitement and his trepidation.

Crowley came back some minutes later, dressed to the nines in a pastel-blue cotton dress with a fitted bodice and a full-circle skirt, and a pair of high-heeled sandals. She had let her hair down, and her face bore no trace of distress - instead, she appeared radiant and youthful, her makeup done in light, subtle shades that enhanced her natural beauty, a stark contrast to her usual heavy layers of product. Severus wondered how on Earth she had managed to go from miserable and puffy to fresh as morning dew - witches, it seemed, knew many useful spells.

As she stood there, vibrant and happy, beaming at him from the doorway, Severus grew uncomfortable. If this was indeed a date, it meant that, at the ripe age of thirty-six, Severus was about to go on a date - a real date, for the first time in his life. Unprepared and unequipped for this sharp turn of events, Severus stiffened up his upper lip. In for a Knut, in for a Galleon.

'Shall we?' He asked. It came out colder than expected, although Crowley didn't seem to notice.

As she twirled on the spot and opened the front door, Severus' eyes were drawn to the movement of her dress. Fascinated, he watched as it made a full circle around her thighs and gently fell down to her knees again.

How very feminine. How utterly pretty.

She called out, 'C'mon then Snape, you'll miss our date!'

Severus was seriously considering hexing or Obliviating the witch, and cursed himself for his own stupidity. He seemed to have a great talent for putting himself in undesirable situations. Thanks to his uncharacteristic lack of thinking, he was now supposed to take her out, undoubtedly pay for it too, and… what?

He snorted under his breath and told himself to get a grip. He wasn't completely wet behind the ears, after all. Throughout his life, he had heard many a conversation relating to the mating ritual that was dating. He recalled the innumerable evenings spent in the Common Room in his student years, centred around one shining goal - to woo a young lady and not end up slapped by the end of the day. If his memory served, the fool-proof recipe for a successful date was to buy the lady a meal and a drink, to offer his coat if she was cold, and to act like a gentlewizard. Straightforward enough - surely he was capable of all that?

There was only one problem. Alice Crowley was no lady.

He stepped outside to find that Crowley was waiting a few paces away, bouncing on her toes in apparent impatience and excitement. Severus felt rather flattered that she seemed so dreadfully happy to be going on a 'date' with him, of all people, but he quickly pushed the feeling aside. For the hundredth time he had to remind himself that this was only a date according to her, and for all he knew, she might have been excited to get yet another free meal out of him, this time with some drinks to boot. He briefly entertained the idea of Apparating to a more upmarket part of Greater Manchester and inviting her to a rather good, middle-class pub he preferred nowadays, but thought better of it. Oh no, this girl belonged firmly in the local Pig & Elbow, a nearby boozer with cheap, simple food and uncultured customers. Merlin knew she would probably get them both barred from any half-respectable establishment.

She welcomed his suggestion with open arms. Not hard to please, it seemed. As they made their way towards the pub, Crowley chattered incessantly, and Severus stayed largely silent, praying that he wouldn't be recognised by the neighbours or worse - his father's old workmates.

It hit him then, that he was a middle-aged man, going to the pub with a very young woman - too young to be drinking in fact, although the bartender was known for serving just about anybody, including the spotty adolescents from the local secondary. He could only hope that they would avoid controversy by finding a nice secluded corner at the back of the pub. In times like these, he was glad to be a wizard. His wand, stashed away in his sleeve, would come in handy should any problems arise.

As they approached the pub Severus lengthened his stride and opened the door for Crowley, stepping inside behind her. The air was heavy, thick and stale, with clouds of smoke tinting the room a dull grey, the smell of ale rising from the patterned carpets. He led her to the backroom and found a small, private table, where he asked her to sit down and wait for him to get the drinks.

The 'date' had officially begun.

Some hours later, the witch and wizard left the pub and were strolling home after what turned out to be a pleasant date. Severus had relaxed a fraction, confident in his assumption that Crowley had enjoyed herself. They shared a good meal of scampi and chips, and the Freeloader had one too many pints of stout. The soft clicking of her shoes echoed as she walked alongside him unhurriedly, swaying lightly on her feet which only caused the skirt of her dress to sway languidly from side to side. It made for an alluring sight, and Severus wasn't going to complain. After a few yards, he felt a dainty hand slip into the crook of his arm, and had to force himself to stay relaxed. The feeling of her warm body against his was as pleasant as it was strange.

This… date, as he was forced to reluctantly call it, cemented his view that Crowley was as far removed from a lady as possible, and quietly hoped that perhaps some of his own well-polished, acquired manners would rub off on her in the future. She seemed to object to using a knife and a fork, and instead preferred viciously stabbing at her food with only a fork. She had stolen a good portion of his chips without asking and managed to spill her drink all over the table, but the quality of the conversation more than made up for it. Severus was no longer surprised that such an ill-mannered wench was able to discuss advanced alchemical concepts with incredible ease, although the sheer contrast between her plebeian disposition and the strength of her arguments bewildered him to no end.

'Won't you come in for a coffee?' She asked as they reached her front door. Severus grimaced mentally at the thought of the beverage she would most likely present him with. Although he really wanted to spend just that little more time with her, he knew that he had to go. Before long, he would leave for Hogwarts, two days early, as he always did to ensure that everything was ready for another year of teaching, and he hadn't even finished packing yet - this was Crowley's fault, actually, since he preferred spending his days at her place rather than concentrating on the things he was supposed to be doing.

'I'm afraid I can't.' He replied. 'I am leaving tonight.'

Crowley dimmed visibly. 'Ah.' She bit her lower lip for a short moment. 'I had a great time, and I don't mean just tonight. Thank you, Snape. For everything.'

Severus smiled lightly. 'Likewise. And I shall see you again soon.'

'Yes.' The sweet smile appeared on her face again. 'Kiss me.' She said abruptly.'It's what people do at the end of a date.'

Severus' eyes flew wide open as a ripple of shock descended down his spine. Glued to his spot, he stared at the deranged nutter for what seemed like infinity. His expression could not be more confounded if she had grown another head. Or two.

'Well?' She demanded, tapping her food impatiently. 'Are you going to kiss me or not?!'

'I…' Severus began, but before he had a chance to tell her just how wildly inappropriate she was, the outrageous bint took matters into her own hands. Standing on tiptoe, she grasped his shoulders and pulled him down towards her.

Her arms locked around his neck, she planted a kiss on lips. It could have only lasted seconds, but for Severus, time stood still in that moment. He closed his eyes against this forceful onslaught, his body as stiff as a rock. His heart skipped several beats, his lungs forgot how to breathe, his brain forgot how to think - all that mattered in that moment was the witch, her embrace and her lips, pressed firmly against his. As he felt her start to retract, his arms came up rapidly, as though of their own volition, and gripped her tightly for a few seconds longer, prolonging this graceless, unsophisticated, wonderful excuse for a kiss.

When they came apart, he drank in the sight of her, cataloguing her reddened cheeks, sparkling eyes and the widest, most radiant smile. Reeling, he felt his mental faculties return excruciatingly slowly, his guts falling back into their rightful places after turning themselves back to front and inside out.

Crowley smirked. 'See you Monday.'

She turned on her heel and opened her front door. Before walking inside, she sent him the naughtiest, cheekiest wink he had ever seen from over her shoulder.

Severus nodded curtly, having reverted back to his expressionless mask, hiding his confusion. As he started walking in the direction opposite to his own home, as he usually did just in case Crowley decided to follow him, his mind began analysing the insanity that just happened. Scowling, he kicked a pebble out of his way, it dawned on him that he had been fooling himself all along.

He was so fucked.