A/N: This is an example of me not being able to follow directions. Not even my own. I wanted to make NinaSays smile, and possibly blush, so I asked her for some ideas for a oneshot. I got almost getting caught, seeing other characters' reactions to the couple, what Molly and Arthur think about all the partners their children have chosen, sarcasm, and absurdity.
Well ... it's not a oneshot anymore. And I didn't quite follow your ideas to the tee, but it should give you a good chuckle and pink cheeks in the end.

For NinaSays ...

Shameless

We better have a good explanation
For all the fun that we had
'cause they are coming for us, babe
And they are going to be mad
Yeah they're going to be mad at us

Ani DiFranco

2 May, 2003
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

"Let us out!" Ginny screamed as loudly as she could possibly muster.

"George Weasley, if this is your idea of a sick joke I'll curse your other damned ear off!" Severus yelled while pounding on the now vacant wall with both hands.

"Expecto Patronum!"

Ginny's mare appeared from the end of her wand and tentatively trotted around the tiny room before coming back to her with an expectant expression.

"Mum, Severus and I are trapped in the Room of Requirement. Please get help for us," Ginny said with a false air of calm.

She leaned against the wall and slid to the floor before looking up at Severus's sweaty face.

"Why is it so hot in here?" he asked.

"Beats me, Severus," she sighed. "The castle does have a sense of humor. What were you thinking when you were running up here?"

He rolled his eyes and slid down to the floor so he could sit next to her. "That I wanted a hell of a good place to hide," he said uncomfortably.

"We got one," she laughed.

He smirked at her and couldn't help but laugh as well.

It had the makings of being a very long night.

About 8 months earlier …

Ginny couldn't help but goggle at the sight in front of her. She'd been an Apprentice for three years now and had seen a lot of interesting cases in that time, but never – ever – had she seen something quite like this.

"What?" Neville asked. He was holding an ice pack over his groin, trying to cover what he considered to be the worst of his accident.

"What on earth were you trying to do with that spell?" she asked as she tried to get him to remove it so she could examined whatever was beneath.

He shrugged as though it weren't important, but her shrewd eyes picked up on the flush crawling up his neck.

"Neville."

The ice pack came off, revealing a lump in the center of his trousers. Ginny narrowed her eyes as she glanced back up at her old friend.

"It's like this, Gin. You know Melinda's a Muggle?" he asked, referring to his fiancée.

Ginny nodded a little warily, not for the fact that Neville was to marry the kind-hearted woman who happened to be a Muggle, but for whatever Muggle "quick" fix was behind his problem.

"Well, with the wedding coming up and all," Neville's flush rose to his cheeks, making his face an almost violent shade of purple. "She thought that maybe over the honeymoon we might try out a Muggle pill she heard about that makes things … ummmm …"

He was so purple now that Ginny was afraid he might stop breathing.

"And you tried it out early and things didn't … settle down?" she said, trying to sound as thoughtful and professional as possible, though in reality she was trying very hard not to burst into hysterical laughter.

"Things … didn't settle," he said, replacing the ice pack. "And I thought the spell might … relax things?"

"Hmmm," she said, covering her mouth with her hand and turning to look through the Potions in the cabinet to her left.

Once the door was open and her face hidden, she silently giggled.

She grabbed the bottle of Skele-Gro and shut the door, again resuming the face of a consummate professional.

"And it removed the bones from your left leg instead," she observed calmly.

Neville nodded.

"Why use Brackium Emendo?" she asked.

"Well, it took all the bones from Harry's arm when Professor Lockhart did it," he said, looking even more embarrassed than before.

Ginny struggled not to loosen her tongue. It was the one thing she had the most trouble with in her training and was the only thing she got Marks for during her evaluations.

"It's meant to fix bones, Neville. Actual bones in your body. It only removes them when it's cast poorly."

"I know," he groaned. "I did it as badly as I could, and I must have missed and now look what I did,' he said, pointing to his boneless and completely flaccid leg.

"Neville," she said gently, taking a seat at the end of his bed and patting his hand with hers. She whispered in his ear the very brief explanation about why the spell didn't work.

"Really?" he asked, incredulous.

She nodded, still trying to look as serious as possible but having to bite her cheek to hold back a smile.

"Why don't they teach us that in school, Gin? That little bit of information would have helped matters a lot," he said resentfully.

"Believe me, I know."

One of her biggest irritations, after beginning her training, was that Hogwarts left students utterly clueless about how their bodies worked, other than the perfunctory fifteen minute Sex Ed talk that Professor McGonagall scared them with every year starting their Third Year.

She shook her head and passed him a dose of Skele-Gro.

"Drink this. It's going to be a long night, and your leg is going to hurt like hell. I can fix the other … problem … in a trice, but I need to have the Paste made fresh so that it will have an immediate effect."

"So I'll live?" Neville asked, his color finally starting to look less livid as he chugged back the foul tasting Potion.

"Of course you will. But quit taking Muggle medicine, for Merlin's sake. That stuff is dangerous," she said, trying not to lecture or chide him too greatly. She patted him on his good leg and whispered, "I'll be back."

"Thanks," Neville said, gritting his teeth as the Skele-Gro began to work.

Ginny took the stairs to the Sub-levels of St. Mungo's, where the Potioneers and researchers worked to create new remedies for their increasingly changing world. With more Muggles and Muggle-borns coming into their fold, they were having to stay ahead of the damage that could be done with mixing the two very different ideas about how to heal the human body.

The Levels, as the Healers called them, always reminded her of the dungeons at Hogwarts. They were very dark, of course, as there was no sunlight available to help illuminate the space. Only large torches lit the corridors, leaving the area feeling very moody and almost sullen – rather like her least favorite Professor from her school years.

She counted the doors, trying to remember which one led to the correct laboratory before she remembered she didn't have to count anymore. The Last-Minute Lab was now marked with a green "X" – a recent change so that the Healers could locate the room more quickly.

After giving the door three good hard knocks and not receiving a welcome, she walked in as was customary procedure.

"Hello," she called out, searching the room for the Potioneer assigned to it.

"Hello," said a deeply baritone voice in the darkness.

She saw a pale face in the shadows watching her guardedly.

"I need a Paste, please," she said, trying to encourage the man to appear.

The face and body came into view so slowly Ginny started to tap her foot to convey her impatience. Her impatience, however, gave way to shock as Severus Snape walked to the center of the room and stood in front of her.

"What in the holy fuck are you doing here?" she asked, before she grimaced and put a hand over her mouth.

"I might ask you the same question, Miss Weasley," he said, sounding as calm as she was angry.

"I've been an Apprentice here for three years," she said, pointing to the half-moon shaped badge on her apron. Apprentices at St. Mungo's wore the customary lime-green robes of a Healer, but were identifiable by the badges they wore, each a different shape for their year of training until they received the Bone and Wand upon completion of their fourth and final year. "And today is the first time I've ever seen you here."

"I've been a researcher here for three years," he said, pointing to the pale grey robes he wore instead of the black she'd formerly seen him dressed in. All Potions Masters who did research for the Ministry at St. Mungo's wore pale grey to show their status among their own Apprentices. "I have a right mind to ask who your supervisor is, young lady. That kind of tongue is not acceptable for a trainee who is still on duty."

"My supervisor is Healer Newson, Sir," she said, ice dripping off her tongue with each word. "I don't see any patients in this lab, though, do you?"

He stared at her for a long moment before he said, "No."

"Well, then," she said. "Don't you want me to tell you what I need?"

"Fine. What do you need, Miss Weasley," he said just as icily as her previous words had been.

"I need a Blood-Diminishing Paste," she said, cocking her head to the side as though she were issuing a challenge.

He frowned at her before he went to work preparing the ingredients.

"And what are you going to use this for?" he asked as he began to measure out the ingredients.

She flushed a little in spite of herself before she answered, "I have a patient who took the Muggle "Blue Pill", Sir."

He looked up sharply and raised his eyebrows. "Things not resolving as they should I take it?"

"No," she said.

"And what instructions will you give him on how to apply it?" he asked as he began to smash a series of fragrant herbs with a large stone mortar and pestle.

"Apply immediately, and then every fifteen minutes after if things don't … settle," she said. "And if they don't, I'll ask Healer Newson for further guidance."

"Very good," he said. He continued to work silently as the Paste came together in the work bowl in front of him.

"How have I never seen you here?" she asked curiously while she watched him spoon the Paste into a small pot and label it with a long, black quill.

"Because I spend all my time in the research labs, Miss Weasley," he said, looking at her as though she were a complete idiot. "I'm only filling in for a colleague today, and believe me, I'm ready to return to my regular work. I don't particularly like to run into my former adversaries, unless it's on my own terms," he said, his lips thinning as he passed her the Paste.

"And you think I like it?" she asked as she snatched the Paste from his hand. "You may be a big hero in everyone else's eyes, but to me you'll always be the evil shit who made my life living hell, no matter who's side you were really on."

With that, she turned on her heel and left the lab, slamming the door behind her.

Neville was completely healed by the next day, and thankfully only required one dose of the Paste. He waved sheepishly as he walked away from the Hospital with only a slight limp.

Ginny walked back to her office, her mind still in a complete disarray after meeting Snape down in … well, she wanted to keep calling them the Levels as everyone else did. But to her, especially after seeing him there, she'd taken to calling them the dungeons in her own mind, for where else could he exist, other than a dank pit of despair, just like his old haunt at Hogwarts?

She shuddered violently and she had to brace herself in the doorway to calm down. Despite what she knew – and she's been told a thousand times over by her Mum and Dad that he did more to keep her out of trouble than she'd ever dreamed – she'd had trouble forgetting or forgiving him for his nastiness and purely evil actions and words the year he was Headmaster.

He'd had a role to play, she realized that now. But, he seemed to have completely and thoroughly enjoyed every cutting slight he'd said to her, every vile word about Harry, and every punishment passed out to her and the rest of the students.

She sat at her desk and stared at the wall blankly as she thought about his more vicious remarks.

"You belong to a group of poor, hapless Blood-traitors, Miss Weasley. You should feel lucky that attendance is now compulsory or you'd never have been allowed into my school …"

"I do hope you enjoyed the small amount of time you got to spend with a boy whose days are numbered …"

"A month of detentions, Miss Weasley - every night for thirty days until you learn your lesson …"

"It's amazing that you know as much as you do, having been raised with such a group of utter idiots …"

Just the memory of the words made her clinch her fists so hard she felt her fingernails cut into the flesh of her palm. The sharp pain made her hiss, and she grabbed the small bottle of Dittany she kept in the front pocket of her apron for emergencies. The clear, cool liquid stung as she drizzled it over the small scratches, but the quick treatment erased all signs of the breaks in her flesh.

She must not have heard the three hard knocks on her door, because when she looked up, she stared into the cold, black eyes of Professor Snape.

"Why are you in my office, Professor?" she asked as she put the bottle back in her pocket.

He hesitated slightly. "You do realize I lost that title after I resigned my post, do you not?"

She had to stop herself from glaring at him. "Ok. Then what should I call you?"

"My title here is Master Snape," he said with a very slight smirk.

"Not a chance in hell."

"You could call me by my given name," he said, regarding her carefully as he inched into the room a little further and shut the door behind him.

"I'd rather chew iron nails, thank you very much," she said as she picked up her wand and opened the door halfway with a quick spell.

He raised a hand and the door shut yet again. "I would like to talk to you in private, Miss Weasley. If you would," he said, motioning to the shut door.

"And it's my office," she said, flicking her wand again impatiently, causing the door to bump him right in the arse. She smiled nastily. "I would like the door open."

He rolled his eyes. "In that case, may I cast a muffling charm?"

She nodded reluctantly. "Fine. Mr. Snape."

He grabbed his wand and cast the charm quickly before he sat down in the chair next to her desk.

Calling the little room an office was actually a bit of a stretch. Ginny assumed it had once been a robe or broom closet at one point that had been hastily changed to suit the needs of staff, as the Apprentices did require a little private space to study and document their day's activities. The chair next to her desk was literally next to her own, and the Professor's – Mr. Snape's – legs were so long they almost reached the opposite wall.

She didn't want to be in this tiny space with him. It wasn't that she was afraid of him; she just had never been in this close proximity to the man and didn't particularly feel like changing that.

Ever.

"You do realize that private offices are exempt from the Three Knock Rule?" she asked frostily as she put down her quill and put away her notes on Neville's case.

"I know that," he said simply. "I ignored it."

"And why would you presume to do something like that?" she asked, now wanting to slap to smug look off of his face.

"Because, as I said, I wanted to speak to you, and I didn't think you'd agree to do so if I asked first," he said calmly, while picking a long, dark hair from his pale robes.

She opened her mouth to deny it, but realized she couldn't. If she'd known it was him she would have locked the door and pretended he wasn't there. So she nodded in agreement.

"Ok, you're right about that. So talk," she said, reclining back in her chair slightly.

"I, um," he frowned, his dark eyebrows bunching together as he apparently tried to gather his thoughts. "I've spent the last four years trying to make amends with those I hurt the most during the war."

"I know," she said, trying to sound like it didn't matter to her.

She'd heard from her family, specifically from George, of his visits to the family home at the Burrow, first to seek forgiveness, then to be received as a valued friend. Her parents were genuinely the most loving Wizards in all of Britain and had welcomed him back in with open arms – especially when the news of what drove his actions became public. Even George respected him, though he still used his missing ear as fodder for a good ribbing when it was convenient, according to Mum.

He'd gone to Harry, Neville, Minerva (all the Professors at Hogwarts, really), Luna, the surviving members of the Order, and as many of the students he could find that had suffered the most from his wrath when he'd been under the most duress during his act as the "Greasy Git".

He'd sought amends with everyone, in fact, and found it waiting for him.

Except for her.

Never once had he graced her flat in London, or come to her office. Hell, she hadn't even known he'd worked in the same building with her until yesterday.

"I saved speaking with you for last, as I'm sure you are aware," he said, glancing up at her now with eyes that were full of regret.

"Why?"

He took a deep breath before he said, "I feel I hurt you the most, perhaps even more than Harry, with my actions during your Sixth Year. As much as I kept the Carrows from their own brand of justice, I dealt my own with a vicious hand. And I haven't known how to even broach the subject with you. I knew you worked here, Miss Weasley. I've just tried very hard to avoid you."

"You didn't have to do that," she sighed. She tapped her finger on the desk and contemplated his words carefully as she stared at her small wand.

"I'm not asking to be your best chum, but I do want you to know that I know what my actions wrought. And I'm sorry," he said softly. He placed both of his hands on his knees and squeezed, as though he were bracing himself for her rage.

She felt tears prick her eyes and quickly blinked them away. It wouldn't do anyone any good if she started that up. She'd had occasional crying spells since the War ended – built up grief and stress is what Healer Faith called it during her previously weekly visits, which were now every other month and as needed.

It would probably be a good idea to schedule one soon …

Ginny's bright brown eyes regarded the dark wizard seated next to her.

He'd changed, greatly, since the War. Gone were the hollow cheeks and the sallow skin. He filled out his clothes and had lost the wraith-like appearance he'd taken when he'd been Headmaster – she thought he'd probably gained a good stone or two from the looks of it. His hair was clean now and still long, though cut a bit more stylishly.

He looked as though he was happy, or at least happier than he had been, as his bottomless, black eyes still held the sad tale of his previous life.

She swallowed back her pride and sharp tongue, and did what was right, and what she knew would heal her spirit, once it was given.

"I forgive you … Severus," she said, patting one of his hands with hers.

His eyes flickered to hers, and she saw him relax for the first time since he sat down in her cramped little quarters. He nodded slightly before standing. "I guess I'll see you in the Levels … Ginny."

She nodded as she watched him leave the room. Using her wand to shut and ward the door, she burst into tears.

A/N: I didn't say it was going to be easy ...