Single Magical Male

Still not mine, no money, yadda yadda yadda. Surely, that\'s not a suprise (and no, I\'m not calling you Shirley)

Letters were sent to all three of the women, suggesting dinner at the Three Broomsticks. This had been another point of Snape’s obstinacy. “Severus, the Three Brooomsticks is not where you take a woman for a romantic evening,” Poppy groaned.

“Exactly,” he sniped. “The last thing I wish to encourage is any notion of foolish sentimentality.” Sprout tried to appeal to his abhorrence of a public rendezvous, pointing out that the inn would likely be crowded with former and current students. “An audience will provide additional incentive to get these ‘meetings’ over with as quickly as possible,” he snarled.

The medi-witch and Herbology professor turned to McGonagall, their last hope. “You know, Severus, dining at an inn may give the wrong impression,” she hinted darkly. “Your dates may think you wish to spend the night with them…”

Severus barked out a laugh, saying “You are under the mistaken impression that I care what these women think. I am confident that I will be able to quickly disabuse them of that notion, should they be so delusional.” So, the Three Broomsticks it was.

The trade-off for letting Snape win the Three Broomsticks battle was his promise that he would stay with each woman through the entire meal. There would be no walking out on the dates, regardless of how badly things went. At least one of the three witches or Albus would be there to ensure that the Head of Slytherin neither reneged on his promise nor humiliated any of the women into leaving before the dessert course.

Time has a funny way of passing. To Albus, Poppy, Minerva, and Pomona, the days crawled by at a glacial pace. To Severus, it seemed he’d gone to bed one night in September and woken the next morning – in December. Somewhere, that wizard Einstein was laughing at all of them.

At long last for the crew of instigators (and all too soon for their victim) it was time for the first meeting. Directions to the Three Broomsticks and a small bouquet of flowers had been sent by owl to Tanya Lovall, with instructions that her date would be wearing a boutonniere of matching flowers so that they’d recognize each other.

At 7:30 sharp, Severus Snape swooped into the inn. He’d made sure that his robes flapped menacingly, put his most unapproachable scowl in place, and worn his most severe cloak, all designed to impress and intimidate his dining coion.ion.

All three of the Hogwarts witches were at their usual corner table, along with Albus, suppressing their snickers when Snape realized the work he’d put into his entrance was for nought: his date was late. After 10 minutes of waiting, he arched an eyebrow at the table in the corner and stood to leave. It was bad enough he’d been coerced into this fiasco; he was not about to be humiliated by some witch he’d never even wanted to meet.

Just as he stood to pay for his drink, a hard-featured woman who looked alarmingly like the late Benny Hill in drag burst through the doors clutching a bedraggled bunch of flowers. She scowled at the room as stood at the end of the bar and bellowed, “Which one of you is Snape?”

Snape blanched and turned to his co-workers’ table. The shock etched on their faces eased him of the momentary fear that they’d chosen this … person … purposely to taunt him. He quickly schooled his features into bland civility, turned to the woman who was to be his companion for the evening, and introduced himself.

Dinner was awkward at best. Under ideal circumstances, a blind date is uncomfortable. Making this evening even more awkward was the apparent struggle between Snape and the woman for control of the encounter.

Once they were seated, Severus asked if she would care for a drink. That, he decided later, was his first big mistake. Whether it was a result of her nervousness or (as he suspected) a long-standing habit, Tanya quickly dispatched 3 double shots of firewhiskey, to no apparent effect.

After slamming her now-empty tumbler on the table, she yelled for a waiter. As the flustered server came to the table, Severus suggested that Tanya order first. That would be his second big mistake.

“Well, since this one’s all on you, let’s go for the good stuff, right?” she huffed. He cringed at this déclassé demonstration but held his tongue.

Surprised that he was able to speak through such tightly clenched teeth, Severus said, “Why don’t we skip the appetizers and order the main course?”

Without even looking up from her menu, Tanya said, “That’s fine. We’ll have the full-on spread. Just bring us the best of whatever you’ve got, appetizer to dessert. For two. And bring us some wine, too.” She shot a quick, apprising look at Severus and barked, “I don’t think a bottle’ll be enough. Bring us one of those wines-in-the-boxes. And be quick about it!”

After the waiter scurried away, Severus excused himself to freshen up. As he neared the Hogwarts’ table, Minerva stood, ostensibly to go to the ladies’ room. Snape paused, allowing the woman to precede him. Once they were out of sight of the dining room, McGonagall turned to her friend and put her hand on his arm. “Severus, I am so sorry. We are all shocked; obviously, the photo she sent was from quite a long time ago and her letter was quite civil.”

His face softened momentarily as he said, “It’s all right, it’s only one evening. Or, rather, three. Perhaps this will finally teach Albus to stop meddling.” For once in her life, the Head of Gryffindor lost her courage. She couldn’t admit that this debacle wasn’t really Albus’ idea. He continued, “And of all people, I should be the last to judge someone harshly based on their looks.” He turned and went back to his table before she could respond.

The rest of the evening was excruciating for all parties. While Tanya had attended University, she hadn’t graduated and, worse yet in Severus’ view, she’d taken only Divination classes. He wisely kept his opinion of that alleged gift to himself – his third big mistake.

Apparently misinterpreting Snape’s silence for fascination with the subject, Tanya launched into a long, disjointed and grammatically questionable discourse on the infallibility of Divination. The fact that she had single-handedly dispatched the box of wine (an oenological development that Severus had been unaware of, to his great fortune, and one he refused to sample) did nothing to enhance her conversational abilities.

At one point, she lurched over the table and grabbed the Potions Master’s hand. She held his hand in an unyielding, vice-like grip and, in a voice that could be heard all the way to Dover, “read” his palm.

“I’m quite gifted at this. I was taught by one of the best and she said that I have definitely got the Sight. Told this by none other than Sibyll Trelawney, you know. If you were educated, you’d’ve heard of her.” Her droning was only slightly louder than the sound of Snape’s teeth grinding. He silently wondered if he would have any molars left after this evening was over.

The relief that he might have felt up realizing that his hand was no longer being read was completely negated by the revulsion that accompanied the feeling of his index finger being assaulted. By her mouth. Even if it cost him the finger she was …. gnawing … there was no way he was going to let her touch him for one more agonizing moment. He snatched his saliva-besmirched digit from her so quickly that it made a loud “pop” and left her with an expression frighteningly similar to the gargoyle downspouts at Hogwarts.

The four friends in the corner were silent, each wishing for a merciful end to the night. Tanyloudloud and ill-mannered behaviour had everyone present cringing with embarrassment. Well, not everyone was embarrassed; the one notable exception was Tanya herself.

The straw that broke the camel’s back came when Tanya took it upon herself to critique her date’s appearance. She started, in her subtle-as-a-bull manner, by asking if he bathed. Ever. She then began to prioritize the different aspects to the make-over he would, of course, be undergoing since she would never be seen dating someone (she gave him a withering glance) shabby.

Professor Sprout finally ended the torture by marching over to Ms. Lovall and, using her most authoritative tone, ordered the woman to follow her. She marched the woman (insofar as a drunken woman can be marched) to the fireplace, grabbed a handful of floo powder and called the woman’s address. Both women disappeared into the green flames; in a few minutes, Pomona returned alone.

Severus walked over to the corner, his mouth tight with barely controlled anger and embarrassment. “Hardly an auspicious beginning to your little assignment, Albus,” he began, “and I’m sure Ms. Lovall will wonder how it was that some witch she’d never met before knew her address.”

Albus looked appropriately chastised, then responded, “She probably won’t remember Pomona, Severus. I doubt she’ll remember much of this evening at all.”

“I think perhaps we should reconsider this exercise, don’t you?” Severus’ voice was rough-edged. “Surely I don’t need to socialize so badly to justify spending time with this type of -- escort?”

“Severus, we all admit that tonight’s events were unfortunate. However, I am not willing to allow you to continue to isolate yourself as you have over these past years. You are far too young to live such an old man’s existence.” Albus’ quiet tone was affectionate but sober, brooking no argument. He continued, “You have only two more dinners; surely a man who has survived countless hours of torture can tolerate two evenings of less-than-stellar companionship?”

The Potions Master sighed and his posture drooped ever so slightly, signalling his acquiescence. Turning on his heel, he paused at the bar only long enough to pay for the evening’s meal and left the inn.

After Severus left, the four Hogwarts staff members silently filed out of the inn and walked to the school. Several minutes passed before a heavily-cloaked figure followed their trail.

It was a small comfort that his next date was the next evening. There were two benefits to this timing: first, he had classes during the day, keeping his mind off the impending disaster; second, he’d be two-thirds finished with this ignominy in a 24-hour period.

Having learned his lesson the prior evening, Snape showed up exactly 6 minutes after 7:30. If the witch he was meeting this evening was late, at least he’d minimize the amount of time waiting. If she was on time, he’d be able to make his bat-like entrance.

As he’d done the prior evening, he swooped into the inn and as his robes settled around him, he surreptitiously scanned the room. He saw a small bouquet on the bar, but there was no one near the flowers. He was about to ask Tom whether the bouquet’s owner had left when a beautiful young woman walked up to the bar. Waiting for her to place her order, he took a moment to appreciate the view as she ordered.

The woman was tall. In fact, with her high-heeled boots she was nearly eye to eye with him. She had dark curly hair that fell over her shoulders to the middle of her back, framing her face. With her warm brown eyes, creamy skin and full lower lip, she could have posed for Botticelli as his Venus. The irony of finding an attractive woman he would like to ask out while he was on a forced date with someone else was not lost on him. After a moment, he realized that the young woman was talking to him, not to Tom.

“Sorry?” he said, shaking himself out of his reverie. “I was just asking if you were here to meet someone for dinner – I noticed your boutonniere…” Her voice was low and soft, and Severus Snape found himself in the extremely unusual position of being at a loss for words.

“Er … yes, actu, I , I am. I’m Severus. Severus Snape. And you are --?”

“My name is Erin Adams-Grey. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’ve never had a blind date before and I was honestly a little afraid that you’d be…”

“A greasy git?” he supplied.

She laughed. It was a warm, easy laugh. “Yes, that’s exactly what I was afraid of. I’m very glad to see that my fear was quite unfounded.” she said as she looked at him.


A/N to Anon – no offence intended; I accidentally typed “England” when I obviously should have written \"U.K.\" Thanks for the catch.

And a special (though embarrassed) thanks to ElviraSnape who caught me moving a London establishment to Hogsmeade without proper authority. Thanks for the catch.