A date with Snape:

A date with Snape:

I don’t own any of the characters; I simply own my twisted mind… and a rubbish tin.

I will accept all corrections.

WARNING, MAJOR FUNNY OCC! I WARNED YOU!

Dedicated to my dear friend: Tomo Potter! (Heart!)

(A/N: this story is my twisted version of the scene where George (or Fred, I cant tell) asks Anglina if she want to go to the ball with him in the 4th movie – goblet of fire.)

The Golden Trio were in the great hall, doing essays and other work. Again, Ron and Harry were mumbling about the closeness of the Yule Ball and the number of dates that they had none. And having just found out that even Neville had acquired a date for the Ball had put their moods even further down. Hermione only rolling her eyes at them and put her head down to work.

George looked across at the two dateless sods, wrote a quick note, folded it and slid it over to Ron. As he peered onto the folded note, he was most affronted to find:

‘Hurry up and ask someone before all the good ones are taken!’

Ron screwed up his face in anger and furiously hissed “well who are you going with?”

George plastered a secretive smile on his face; he looked around and grabbed a page of spare scroll, rolled it up into a ball. He looked around for a target, and once he found it he leaned his arm back and fired the crinkled ball of paper.

BOINK!

It hit Anglina right in her forehead, her head snapped to George with a angry face that could have even made Moody batten down the hatches.

“ Anglina?” George loudly hissed.

“What?!” she quietly snarled

At this point, George gave up on all verbal questioning and started to mine to her, mouthing the way along.

‘Do you-’ He pointed at her.

‘Want to go to the ball-’ he mouthed this and made a rough gesture of waltzing with no one.

‘With me?’ at this final mouthing he proudly pointed to himself.

But before she could answer there was a loud shrill squeal from behind her. All eyes turned to see who-or what- had made such a noise.

There behind Anglina was a giggling, spinning in circles, happier than anything was…Professor Snape. He stoped spinning and gave George a massive grin that reached the tips of his ears. Suddenly a ruby red blush attacked his face as he opened his mouth and hollered around the great hall “OF COURSE I’LL GO WITH YOU TO THE BALL, GEORGE WEASLEY! ohmygosh, ohmygosh, ohmygosh! I have to get ready for tonight, I have to wash my hair, I need to iron my BEST orange robes, to go with your beautiful hair of course!”

And with I final squeal he sprinted out of the hall with giggles that would put even Lavender to shame.

And with that all heads turned to the VERY pale George Weasley looking horrified, but if you looked closely you could see the faintest twitches in the corner of his lip.

That night after the ball:

George stumbled into the common room late that night, di-shelved (spelling?) and sore.

“George where, you been? Completely missed you at the ball. You could have gone you know, didn’t see Snape anywhere!” Fred said from his seat by the fire. George simply looked at him, muttered something and climbed up the boys’ stairs sorely.

…

Meanwhile, down in the dungeons, Severus Snape was relaxing for the night with a smug and happy.

The end!

I did warn you!