A/N- And now, the fun bits :). A hug to all who continue to read and comment, and a special thanks to maritinkerbell for pointing out a rather obvious Quidditch mistake. Happy reading!

It was nearly a fortnight before they began; between his end of year duties and hers, there was far too much to do to start in on the lessons immediately.

They had agreed to meet at the entrance of the Great Hall before Apparating together to Spinner's End where the car was parked. As Severus made his way down the stairs, it was an effort not hunch his shoulders and let his hair cover his face. It felt dreadfully wrong to be stripped of his usual woollen armour, especially within the grounds of Hogwarts. Instead of his robes, he was wearing a pair of light coloured denims and a long-sleeved black jumper; there were more than a few whispers about his attire from the portraits as he walked past the gallery.

But it was Albus' voice he heard as he came around the final corner.

"Minerva… that is a most… peculiar outfit."

Severus could count on one hand the number of times that he had heard Dumbledore discomforted so thoroughly, and he only had time to think that the sartorial criticism was a bit rich coming from a man who regularly wore purple and orange robes before he saw Minerva. In the shocked split second after he took in what she was wearing, he was very much glad for the warning.

Her hair was down, a tumbling black cascade of waves that nearly reached her arse. As for her arse… for the first time in the almost twenty years that he had known her, Minerva was wearing Muggle trousers that left little of her figure to the imagination. Close-fitting and of a rich navy blue, they highlighted the fact that Min was a very fit and attractive fifty-one who could pass for far younger. Sealing his doom was her jumper, a vaguely nautically themed red and white striped number that displayed the lush curves of her breasts perfectly. If there was one thing he was a sucker for, it was a woman in a tight jumper.

"Severus." She greeted him blithely as if she was entirely unaware that she was wearing an outfit specifically designed to torture him. Just the thought of being stuck in a small car with Minerva dressed like that was enough to make him sweat, and he was fairly certain that his poker face had just failed him spectacularly.

"Professor McGonagall," he returned flatly, a deliberate reminder of their roles.

She smirked, not fooled one bit by his tone.

"So," Albus said, tone aggressively cheerful. "Where are the two of you off to?"

"Manchester, or thereabouts. Severus is taking the time to teach me to drive."

The older man blinked several times, a veiled emotion flickering through his sharp blue eyes. "I had promised you that I would do so…"

"For the last ten summers, yes, you have promised that. However, I am tired of waiting." Minerva said, hand going to her hip in a militant fashion.

"I see."

"I'm sure you do."

Minerva and Albus stared at each other, the resulting silence laden with meaning. Severus was left with the uncomfortable feeling that one gets when watching parents having a row in public with no way to stop it.

Deciding that he'd learn nothing further about their spat by merely watching them glower at each other, Severus interrupted, holding out his arm. "Shall we, Min?"

She jerked slightly, but took his arm with all the airs of an imperious queen. Neither spoke until they were well up the path to the gates.

"Stonewashed denim? Colour me surprised," she said lightly as they climbed the drive.

"We are both half-bloods. It's not as if either of us is ignorant of Muggle fashions."

"Still, it is shockingly informal for you."

Severus slanted her a look. "Not really. We are going to a small village outside of Manchester, not Piccadilly. Besides which, I occasionally return to home for a concert or show, and these blend in just fine. That, on the hand…" He waved vaguely at her clothes, endeavouring to not stare at her arse or tits.

"…was borrowed from a Muggle cousin, and if it is acceptable for a housewife in the Scottish Midlands, then it will do for the English North."

"If you say so," he muttered, unconvinced. He could already imagine some of the comments by the local lads that her outfit would provoke. Determining it was best to change the subject, he asked, "Tell me what the following sign means: a red circle with two cars inside, one black and one red?"

"No overtaking," she replied swiftly, a small, genuine smile appearing.

"Correct. Blue circle, with an arrow pointing left or right…"

Minerva didn't say anything when they landed in the dreary, overgrown park near his house, and some of the tension in his stomach abated. Snape knew the estate was little more than a forgotten shithole, and he didn't need it be pointed out.

For once it wasn't raining, but the sun was obscured by a thick layer of grey clouds. Nevertheless, it was warm enough to be pleasant, and he could hear the shouts of children playing football in the far field. Stepping onto the gravel path that led to the street, Severus gestured to the left fork. "Come on. I've parked the car in the lot at the end."

His da's old Morris Minor wasn't much to look at, the pea-green bonnet a shade darker than the rest of the body. It was a two-door saloon that Toby had picked up on the cheap after a nasty collision with the intent of repairing and selling. He'd mostly finished it before dropping dead of a heart attack, and along with the house on Spinner's End, the car was one few useful things his da had left him. The wiring still wasn't quite right; in the wet and cold, the reversing lights tended to short out, and the heater would randomly turn itself off on long trips. But the car had been free, and had all the proper Muggle paperwork in place, so he couldn't really complain. Pulling the keys from his pocket, Severus unlocked the passenger door for Minerva.

"How familiar are you with automobiles in general, and driving specifically?" he asked as he slid into the driver's seat.

"I know the basics of how they operate. I rode in one often enough as a child. My father had an old Standard Flying Ten, but he never let me drive it. I did manage to finagle my way into driving a neighbour's tractor several times, but that was almost thirty years ago."

"Well, that's better than nothing." With that, he turned the key in the ignition, and the engine roared to life. "Right, pay attention. When in park, you will observe…"

Severus took her out the to the large abandoned lot of the old mill. The tarmac was still mostly intact, and he figured that it was the best place to start. He had a painful moment of déjà vu as Min peppered him with questions about the rev counter and clutch; Lily had been like that too, full of impatient curiosity and stubborn determination.

"Enough," he told her when she opened her mouth to begin another round of questions. "At a certain point, the only way to learn how to drive is to do it. Out."

She practically lunged for the door latch, and Severus shook his head, anticipation running through him with what he had planned next. He got out of the car far more slowly than she, stretching languidly as he straightened to his full height. Purposely, he blocked the driver's side door.

"Oh, budge over, you ruddy git," Min exclaimed, eyes narrowing.

He smiled, dangling the keys just out of her reach. "I think that you would agree with me that it's vital to learn how to do this entirely without magic, don't you think?"

"Yes…" she said cautiously, sensing his trap but not seeing the end pointe.

"And so we can agree that from here on out, neither of us will use magic?"

"As you wish." She attempted to snatch the keys from his hand and failed.

"Good. Your first challenge is to change that tyre," he informed her, pointing to the rear. "Be grateful that it's not raining cats and dogs as it was when my father taught me. He parked squarely in a mud puddle and made me wade right in."

"Severus! That is utterly ridiculous!"

"Is it? What would you do if you were in a situation in which magic was prohibited and you had a puncture?"

"I would get a man to change it," she snapped facetiously. "Making sure, of course, that I was parked in the mud."

"And if there were no men about? Or your safety was on the line? What then? You must be proficient in the most basic skills of automobile maintenance, Minerva. Just as I don't let my students brew without first knowing proper cutting techniques and safety charms, I will not let you get behind the wheel without the required foundational knowledge." For all that his response was pedantic, it was the truth, and they both knew it.

"Allow me to remind you that you will shortly be under my tutelage."

"I do recollect that fact, yes. But am I truly being that unreasonable in trying to ensure that you can handle most motoring issues independently? I do also recall that you consider yourself a feminist, and I do believe handling things alone is what feminists do," Snape finished with a smirk.

"You will pay for this."

"I'm sure I will." He pointed to the boot. "But for now, chop-chop. The spanner kit is in the bag within the spare tyre wheel well. Grab it, and then get on your knees."

The look she levelled at him could have melted metal.

"And remember, no magic means no cushioning or cleaning charms… just so you know, once you've placed the spare on, you'll also be taking it off again and rotating all the tyres for me. Once you've finished that, we'll be moving on to the important items under the bonnet. I've even brought the all the items needed to perform an oil change. Won't that be exciting?"

"You will pay," Minerva repeated through clenched teeth.

"If it didn't kill me to learn all this, then it won't you..."

Five hours later, the Minor had been thoroughly inspected and tuned, and both he and Minerva were filthy. Oddly enough, it had been an enjoyable exercise, and once she had gotten over the fact that she was going to get dirty, Min had proven an interested and capable pupil.

They had stopped for a late lunch, and Snape was sipping the last of the warm tea from a thermos.

"Why didn't you learn to drive when you were younger?" he asked.

Minerva took a contemplative bite of her cucumber sandwich. "My father was a very traditional man—he was vicar from a rural parish—and once my mother revealed that she was a witch, felt that he only had a limited time in which to impress upon us his values. In his mind, it was unseemly for women to drive. Mind you, we fought about it constantly once I was of age, but he never budged, and that was that. It was a different time, I guess. After I graduated from Hogwarts, I left everything Muggle behind. By the time I started to dip my toes back into things, I was nearly forty, and it all seemed too much of hassle."

"And the experience with the tractor?"

Her expression went totally blank, and Severus wondered if she'd answer as the silence stretched out.

"A… friend. He worked the farm next to us." It was clear that there was a lot more to the story.

Taking pity on her, he rose from the grassy verge that lined the mill lot. "Momentary suspension of the rules. Magic is allowed for the next five minutes." Whipping out his wand, he started hitting himself with a variety of cleansing charms; from the corner of his eye, he saw her do the same.

"What's next?" she eventually asked, a raw tension still running through her frame.

He tossed her the keys, and she barely caught them in time. "Seeing if you can actually get this beast into gear."

An hour later, they had progressed to shuddering across the car park.

"Bloody hell, shift into second, Min! The engine should never sound like an angry grindylow!"

At first, Severus thought he imagined the light caress on his upper thigh. It was just an accident that Minerva was brushing his leg whenever she shifted gears. The car was rather cramped, after all.

Abruptly, he became aware of the tantalising smell of jasmine perfume, clear even through the stronger scents of the hot engine and lingering remnants of grease. It became an effort not to focus on the way her delicate hands gripped the steering wheel just so, or how her breasts moved under her jumper as she worked the gear lever. Severus did not allow himself the luxury to squirm in his seat.

But it had been a long school year, and his only company had been that of his left hand. Severus had never fooled around in an automobile, but he'd sure as hell fantasised about it over the years. His traitorous mind danced with thoughts of her capable hands working a different sort of shaft, and the pressure mounted in his jeans.

Then her hand landed on his thigh again and didn't move. The penny dropped.

"Minerva," he intoned warningly, "…reach for that particular knob again, and you'll get a different sort of lesson entirely."

She chuckled, removing the limb in question slowly. "You poor thing… here I was expecting more from the man who told me to get on my knees with a sneer."

It was surreal, being hit on by a former teacher; to be fair, he had not precisely thought of her like that in some years, but the underlying power dynamic was still there.

He was decidedly aroused by the notion… and not.

Minerva's age didn't bother him; most of the women he had slept with were older. Indeed, had it been another woman fondling his leg, he would have ordered her to pull over ages ago. But there was far more between them than a case of simple lust. To say that their history was complicated was like saying that Humber was merely wet.

"Wishing that I could take points off now?" she inquired tartly as he groped for words.

Pulling his mind from where it was flailing about in the gutter, he attempted for a neutral retort. Detached. "If you are bored enough to molest me, then you need more of a challenge. Turn onto the village lane."

She laughed again, the husky sound going straight to his groin. "Yes, sir…"

Both of their nerves were shot by the time that they had completed a circuit comprising of the Byzantine warren of the estate's narrow streets and lanes. There had been several close calls, including a marauding Mark III Cortina that nearly forced them into a hedgerow.

Reaching across the fascia to the driver's side, Snape turned the Minor off. The sudden quiet was bliss for his pounding head. "Right, I think that's enough for tonight. I don't know about you, but I need a drink."

"Agreed," Minerva said, hands shaking slightly.

"Pub? I'll buy."

"Only if we can walk there…"

After abandoning the car in front of the house, they walked to the village pub. The babble of voices and cloud of smoke was almost too much, but Snape was hungry enough that he didn't want to find somewhere less busy.

The tables were all full—Manchester United was playing Liverpool—but there was a single seat left at the far end of the bar. "Take it," Severus said to Minerva. "I'll stand. I need to anyway, after all that sitting."

She nodded, not missing the curious as well as leering glances they were receiving. Severus put a possessive hand on the small of her back, hoping that the match was diverting enough for their presence to be ignored.

"Fish and chips?" he asked.

"Please, and G and T."

Catching the bartender's eye as Minerva perched on the lone stool, he ordered. "Gin and Tonic for the lady, a pint of bitter for me, and a double order of fish and chips, mushy peas with pea wet... oh, and the fried pickles."

"Good choice," Minerva murmured as she wiggled onto the stool. "All that salt sounds perfect."

Wedging himself in the space between her stool and the next person, Snape leaned on the bar. "I keep trying to get Rosmerta to try adding fried pickles to the menu, but she considers them an absolute affront to decent taste."

Minerva gave a Scottish snort. "And butterbeer isn't?"

"If you want an argument, choose a controversial topic."

The barkeep delivered their drinks, and they both fell into silence as the soporific effect of the alcohol took hold.

By necessity, they were pressed together, and Severus felt his body stir into awareness once again. Either Minerva didn't notice, or didn't care; her attention drifted around the room, taking in the men playing darts, the dancers in the corner, and the large telly placed against the centre wall blaring the football.

"Do you ever miss this?"

He glanced down at her, eyebrow rising. "Sometimes. But it's so far removed from everything in my life that this existence often seems like another planet. Do you?"

"I miss the anonymity. You don't have that in Hogsmeade, or anywhere else. Ours is a rather incestuous world. But I do have more freedoms where we are… up to a point."

"Back to the clarion call of feminism again, are we?"

She poked him hard in the ribs. "You know, the patriarchy doesn't just hurt women…"

"And if the current patriarchal norms are wounding me, I don't ever want to be healed," he drawled, not meaning it one bit.

"Rubbish."

With a thump, their food appeared. They reached for the pickles at the same time, and with an eye roll, she instead scooped up some of the peas with a chip.

"Mmmm, that's one thing that is never done right at Hogwarts," she said, smacking her lips with relish as they both tucked in. "Gods, but I love mushy peas…"

"I would gladly give up mushy peas for life if I could have a just pint of this," he pointed to the bitter, "…rather than that mediocre wine or infernal pumpkin juice at the head table."

"Oh, now there's a tough choice… but could you imagine what Sybil would be like if we had anything stronger?"

"We'd all be like Sybil if we had something stronger."

"True." Reaching up, she brushed the corner of his mouth. "You have some peas stuck…"

Without thinking, he caught her hand with his and sucked the salty remains from her thumb. They both froze, the air suddenly still and yet somehow electric between them.

Her thumb stroked the plush line of his lower lip, and Severus' felt all his blood rush south. Wrapping his lips around the digit, he laved it clean with his tongue. Minerva leaned in, breasts pressing against his arm.

The moment was finally broken when the front door banged open, the reverberation from a massive bolt of lightning filling the pub. It had started dumping rain, and everyone in the pub fleetingly gawked at the weather.

"Jesus," Snape muttered, wondering if there was a metaphor in there somewhere.

"Jay-zus, Severus?" Minerva teased, echoing the Northern lilt that had suddenly coloured his voice.

"When in Rome, and all that rot," he shot back, picking up a piece of cod. "I'm not walking back in that tempest. We can slip into the ginnel that runs along the back and pop back to the house without getting wet."

"Is that an invitation?" For all that it was heated, her gaze was surprisingly steady on his.

He paused, body and mind having yet to come to an accord. "I haven't decided yet."

"Fair enough." She finished her drink with a smack. "Second round on me?"

"Yes."