Rom To My Private Dungeon

*** Chapter 11 The two walked into the Leaky Cauldron and stopped a moment to allow their eyes to adjust. It was dark inside the pub, or maybe it was just the summer sun outside being particularly energetic. Clinking glasses and soft conversational murmurs filled the room. They took a moment to have a look around. It seemed the diners were all outside, and the drinkers were all inside at the bar or in one of the booths. The wizarding wireless near the bar was broadcasting a Quidditch match. A loud cheer rose from the bar. It seemed the Wimbourne Wasps had just scored 10 points against Puddlemere United. Snape and Maracuja looked at each other and vocalized in unison, "Let's go to the garden, then, shall we?" More cheers and shouts came from those at the bar: "Bout bloody time!" "Way they been playin' lately, anyone'd think they was a Hogwarts children's team." "Yeh, can't hit a Hippogriff with a bludger, let alone another player since you been gone, Ludo." Snape and Maracuja both rolled their eyes, but that last comment caught Snape by surprise. He had not expected to run into the likes of Ludo Bagman in the Leaky Cauldron, let alone in the middle of a summer afternoon, pissed, listening to a Quidditch match. He attempted to steer Maracuja away quickly, having no desire to be forced into idle chitchat with Ludo and the lot at the bar. Too late, he was spied by Bagman himself. "Oy, Snape!" he shouted. "Come and have us a drink, and bring threttretty lady wiff ya." Maracuja looked at Snape and frowned. "Oh, thank you" she tried to be gracious, "very kind to offer, but we are quite hungry just now." Snape's eyes narrowed, as he was naturally suspicious of any invitation for drink. The two had never been what one might call friends, and their acquaintanceship was further strained by the Death Eater trials a few years back. Bagman was sure Snape was still a Death Eater. Snape had a particular disdain for anyone too stupid to realise he was helping the enemy. Bagman stumbled off his bar stool and approached Maracuja. Snape gave Bagman a dirty look, which the former Quidditch player took for Snape's normal appearance and promptly disregarded. Brushing off all suggestions of rejection, he seemingly ignored Snape's presence en route to his destination. "Ludo Bagman at your service," he bowed. "Haven't seen the likes of you round here before. What's your name?" "Maracuja Feuer" she replied, her nose crinkling in disgust at the strong smell of Ogden's and beer on the man's breath. "Hangin' around with this lot?" he gestured at Snape. "You can do better'n him. Let me buy you a drink." "I think not," she refused. "Ms. Feuer prefers to avoid the company of oafish drunkards," Snape remarked coolly. "Shouldn't you be at work, stealing Ministry office supplies and making wagers on the weather windows?" Maracuja chuckled. "Aw, c'mon." Bagman directed at Maracuja. "What kind of pretty lady would rather have a skinny hook-nosed greasy-haired prat like him when you could bag the Bagman? I was a Quidditch player, y'know." He puffed up his chest and beat his fist against it like an overgrown ape. Tom the barman took notice of Bagman's behaviour. "Maybe you've 'ad enough, mate?" he suggested. "Oh, I'm just getting started," he scoffed before hiccupping and producing a malodorous belch. Snape did not take kindly to the idea of this man interfering with his enjoyment of Maracuja's company. Attempting to end things quickly, he snapped back mockingly, "Just getting started? Ah, yes. It must be a terrible pity to peak at 23. It must be what drives you to drink. Or are you just drowning your shame over...you know. Why don't you go back to work, pretend to have a real job, and sit around waiting to die." Bagman glared at Snape in anger. "Piss off, you pansy." He paused to think, and continued, "I'd rightly suspect you don't want to go...there...you know." Maracuja raised a questioning eyebrow and looked at the two men. Snape narrowed his eyes and rubbed his left arm, then reached for his wand beneath his robes. But Bagman brushed past Snape and walked in closer to Maracuja. His fat red face threatened to overtake her entire line of vision as his gut grazed the front of her robes. He grinned a toxic breathy smile in her face. She froze in repulsion. Snape considered his options, a string of hexes churning in his mind. But he looked in Maracuja's eyes and saw something there that suggested he curb his natural instinct to strike. Instead, he chose to watch-it suddenly occurred to him that doing nothing might be far more entertaining and effective. Still, he kept his wand at the ready, just to be cautious. "A woman like you needs a real man, a sportsman, not a freakish overgrown bat like him," Bagman insisted, all sense of personal space now violated. Pointing a finger into his chest, Maracuja pushed Bagman away as though he were light as a feather. "Me, be impressed with an oaf like you? Ha! I've no interest in drunken jocks. I prefer a man of intelligence than one who thinks the world revolves around which flying imbecile catches the golden snatch. Betiv nenorcit." Everyone at the bar giggled. Even Snape let out a puff of air through his nose. "Erm, it's called the golden snitch ma'am," the bartender corrected her, grateful for what he thought was a break in tension. Maracuja did not laugh. "Snitch. Snatch. Whatever," she snapped back, whipping out her wand and pointing it in Bagman's gut. "Da, pizda. Go back to your mates at the bar before I transfigure you into a potions ingredient. I'm sure Severus's--what did you call it?-hooked nose would love to look down upon your remains in a glass jar. If I'm kind, I'll even fill it with beer...just for you." Bagman raised both hands and took several steps back, his eyes wide as saucers. Gobsmacked, he retreated to the bar. Snape flashed Bagman an evil grin and wrapped a possessive arm around Maracuja's waist. "Shall we then?" he offered while steering her towards the garden. "Thank you, Severus," she cooed in response, flashing her own evil grin. Putting her wand away with one hand, she kissed the index finger of the other and affectionately stroked his nose. Had it not been so dark, she would have seen him blushing ever so faintly. "Betiv nenorcit," she whispered under her breath. Snape smirked. "You said that before. I can only imagine what that means." "Oh, just a, a, a stupid drunken cretin" she translated. "And how do you say 'yes'?" "Da," she answered. "Da," he agreed, and the two smiled conspiratorially. *** Once outside, the two stood and looked at one another. An adrenalin rush coursed through them. There were only 3 tables occupied in the patio garden, and two had just finished and were getting up to leave. Snape kept his arm around Maracuja's waist and steered her toward a somewhat hidden corner table. But once at the table, she turned in to face him and ran her fingers through his hair, brushing it out of his face. Snape splayed his fingers and pressed against her lower back, drawing her in. The sweet, delicate tension between them grew, an invisible string pulling them closer. He could not imagine what he had done to be given such a divine woman-beautiful and fierce, unrepentantly brutal and passionate and intelligent. Most men would be terrified of the combination. For Snape, it was a case of him meeting his match. He prayed he didn't make a wicked mess of things. The remaining table sensed the sexual tension in the air, quickly swallowed the rest of their drink and hotfooted back into the bar area. Alone and unable to resist, Snape took a deep, nervous breath, licked his lips and leaned down toward her. A moment later he found himself lost in her kiss, his heart pounding in his chest. Mouths parted, hungry, eager, they melted into each other's embrace. **** A/N: In case it's not obvious, Maracuja slips into her native tongue (Romanian) when she's angry. Pizda means "pussy."