Title: Hocus Pocus
Genre: Romance
Rating: T
Pairing: Severus x OC
Spoilers: N/A
Summary: There's a little witch in every woman.
Word Count: 2,372
Warnings: N/A

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling. Summary the title of a book by Midia Star.

A/N: I don't know.

It's stupid. He knows that before he's even walked completely into the room. But he also has the niggling feeling that the Dark Lord still has Death Eaters tailing him. He's never completely trusted Severus since he came back to power. How could he? It's barely believable that Snape had been playing the dutiful double agent for the past fourteen years. Luckily the Dark Lord still can only see what Severus wants him to see inside his mind. But He-Who-Must-Not-Be Named is cautious and paranoid.

Hence the tails.

The only place he can think of to escape in is Muggle London. It's not too far from their current headquarters, but it might as well be worlds away with how out of depth Severus feels as soon as he steps onto the street. He contemplates heading back to Diagon Alley, thinking maybe he can lose them in the crowds, but he hears two distinct pops of disapparition and instead immediately follows the man in front of him into the nearest door and hopes they didn't notice.

Stepping inside, only the crush of bodies keeps him from standing and gathering his bearings. There are so many muggles. And they are dressed in an array of ridiculous outfits. He frowned. Hallow's Eve was weeks away. Were muggles really so outlandish that they would celebrate a pagan holiday almost a month in advance?

"Hey, we match!"

He started and glanced up to see a young woman in front of him, wearing black robes that, yes indeed, did match his rather well. She happened to fill hers out in a more becoming manner though. And there was a pointed hat perched on her raven hair at a jaunty angle. She was smiling at him in a happy near-drunk sort of way, her dark eyes shining at him.

"I beg your pardon?"

She laughed. "Oh you don't have to beg, we just met!" She grinned. "I'm Arya!" He made no motion to reply in kind. "I'm literally going to stare at you until you answer me."

"Severus," came the grudging reply.

Her eyes light up. "That's such a cool name!"

He sneers at her, but she doesn't seem to notice, merely glances around her with interest. "I thought there'd be more witches and wizards here, it's such a cliché costume, you know, but it looks like we're the only ones here." She grins again and it grates against him because it's such a Gryffindor smile that it pains him. "Great minds think alike, I guess, huh?"

He makes a noncommittal sound and turns away, trying to end the conversation. From the corner of his eye he can see out the front window and can just make out the blurry outline of two robed and bickering Death Eaters. Snape keeps a wary eye on them in case they have two brain cells to rub together and make for this house.

"Who do you know here?"

The question draws him back in and he glances down at the woman. "No one."

She arches a brow. "Party crashing, huh? Groovy, me, too."

Severus closes his eyes in irritation. When he opens them again, he realizes that the two idiots outside are apparently not as stupid as one could hope and are making their way towards his hiding place with resolute strides. He glances around, but all he sees in a press of muggle bodies and an unfamiliar house.

"Is there anywhere else to go in here?"

She seems startled that he's asked her anything and stops her people watching to turn to him. "Uh, I think there's an upstairs."

They're almost at the door. "Show me."

She blinks. "Uh, okay, this way." When she starts to show him the way the throng of bodies threatens to separate them. She glances back, sees him struggling with the push and pull of people – not knowing he's forcing himself to not pull out his wand and move them with magical force – and she reaches through the crowd to grasp his wrist lightly in her hand. When his startled eyes meet hers, she winks and continues on through the crowd.

Severus, for his part, lets her. He is unused to contact, to touch, to interactions with beautiful women who aren't Death Eaters. The last beautiful woman who had liked him for himself had been Lily a literal lifetime ago. He couldn't remember the last time someone had willingly touched him that hadn't been in anger. He follows along after her, as docile as a cow on a rope, only glancing over his shoulder once to ascertain that the two following him haven't seen him, as she leads him through a kitchen, down a narrow hallway, up a staircase, and, after briefly knocking on the door, into a small bedroom.

"Voila," she declares, as she drops his wrist and gestures with her spread arms, spinning around to face him, her ridiculous robe swirling around her. She smiles at him. "Now what?"

Snape frowns. "Excuse me? Now nothing. Now you may leave."

It's her turn to frown. "Lighten up, buddy, it's a party!" He humphs and turns away from her to survey the room. She giggles at whatever she sees on his expression. "So you're a wizard, huh?" When he turns to her startled, he realizes she's referring to his outfit.

"Yes." What else can he do but agree?

Arya sighs, wistful. "I wish I could do real magic, you know? That's why I picked this costume. So I can pretend for one night." She's sits on the bed, swinging her legs. "Get away from all my problems, make them go away with the wave of a wand."

"That's not – " He's correcting before he thinks about it. "I don't think magic would work like that." He makes a dismissive gesture.

"No, you're probably right."

His eyes fall on her for a moment and he's struck by the expression on her face. It reminds him, vaguely, of the expression on Potter's face after the final challenge, after the dementors, after the Chamber of Secrets, on his first day back at school every year. It is a haunted, far-away look, introspective and sad. "What sort of problems could someone like you have?" He blurts out the question rudely, sure that her answer will be something idiotic and childish. She is porcelain pale, with a mass of dark hair and dark eyes, tall and leggy, as graceful as a swan. Beautiful.

She scoffs. "You'd be surprised." She must hear the disbelieving noise he makes, because she looks up to answer him. "Some men," she says slowly, weighing her words, "see women as possessions… Some fathers, too."

He doesn't have anything to say to that, he knows what it's like when your home it's a home. "Magic wouldn't fix that either." He should know.

She's staring at him with glittering eyes. "Maybe you're right." She gives a cheeky smile, clearly forced. "But maybe it would – you wouldn't know." It irritates him to no end that he can't correct her, but luckily she continues on. "So what's your story, Severus?" She leans back on her arms, relaxed and at ease with him in a way that he is unused to. "Got any juicy secrets? What do you do?"

Magic, he thinks ironically. He's not a person built for small-talk. He's no Gryffindor, at immediate ease with every single person he comes across, no Hufflepuff who's sweet and endearing. He cannot talk to others without difficulty, let alone beautiful women. He's not used to a woman looking at him expectantly, like she cares what he has to say, like she cannot see the hooked nose and sallow features and permanent frown. Like she only sees an interesting person she met at a party and wants to talk to. Like he's just like everyone else. He struggles to find a reply. "I'm a potions-maker."

She blinks. "Uhhh… I don't…" She blinks again. "Like a chemist?"

He doesn't know what that is, some muggle career he assumes, but he agrees. "Yes."

"That's pretty cool. So you like, make medicines and stuff?"

"Among other things." Draught of Living Death. Liquid Luck. Amortentia. Veritaserum. "And… and you?" He asks in return.

"I'm a writer," she answers. "Mostly fantasy." She laughs. "Hence the witch costume, I guess." She keeps talking, but Severus hears a thump in the hallway that sounds like doors being opened and closed, like rooms being searched. "I suppose I'm just always trying to live in a storybook – looking for adventure –" Could those two Death Eaters be searching room by room for him? I guess they did have two brain cells to rub together. " – looking for magic – "

The door slams open and she stops speaking with a shriek. His cloak swirls around him as he pulls out his wand and shoots off a series of sparks in the intruders direction before they can gather their bearings.

"Come with me." Arya is staring, wide-eyed that the two men in their Death Eater masks as they try and get their feet back underneath them and disentangle themselves from each other. She's trembling. "Arya." Her head jerks around to him. He holds out a hand to her. "Come here." She reaches out slowly and the moment she touches his palm, he yanks her closer, but there's no time to dwell on it. "Close your eyes." He doesn't wait to see if she listens before he's Apparating away.

When they appear, they're far away, on the outskirts of muggle London, the only other place he knows from memory, because it's a common Apparating point. He knows it won't be long before the two of them regain their senses and come here, it's the logical place to look. But, now, for a brief moment, there is a woman trembling in his arms and he's out of his element. "Arya?"

She steps out of the circle of his arms and they immediately feel empty. She's staring at him in confusion. "You – you can do – " She cannot make herself say the word.

"Mag-"

"Magic!" Luckily there's no one near to hear her shriek the word. "What the hell? Magic is real?! You're a real wizard? What the hell?!"

Severus blinks. Is she not terrified?

"Terrified?" Guess he said that out loud. "I'm pissed! All my life I've been looking for magic and now – " She gestures helplessly.

And what you got was me, he thinks to himself sadly.

"And now you're probably going to leave and I'll never see you again."

He barely manages to keep his jaw from dropping. "What?"

She gestures again, her movements erratic and jerking. "I mean, those two weirdos were clearly after you. So I'm guessing you'll flicker off to who knows where."

"Apparate," he corrects absentmindedly.

"Whatever, and who knows if I'll ever find someone again who can show me magic and –" She turns to him abruptly. "I don't suppose anyone can learn magic?" Her voice is hopeful.

Severus shakes his head. "It is something one is born with." In this moment, he honestly wishes it was otherwise. She visibly deflates "But perhaps there is a little witch in you."

"Really? What makes you say that?"

"Because you have bewitched me."

A slow blush blossoms across her cheeks. It's fascinating for someone like Severus, who has never made a girl blush ever in his entire life. Adrenaline makes him bold, makes him channel some inner fragment of Gryffindor that he apparently has been hiding and he steps forward, grasps her face lightly in his palms and leans down to kiss her.

She gasps and the sound makes the kiss deeper, closer, makes a ragged groan inch its way up his chest to rumble in his throat. He pulls back, not very far. "I have to go."

"No, wait – "

But he hears the pop of two wizards appearing behind him and knows his time is up. "Snape! We've got you now!"

Severus pushes her lightly away, forces away the urge to drag her closer and closer still. "Go." He doesn't wait for an answer, knows it will cost him precious moments, knows the Death Eaters are coming closer. When he turns, they're behind him, only a few feet away. "How dare you interfere with my business."

"The Dark Lord wishes to speak with you."

"As he wishes, but you should note that you interrupted a perfectly executed plan to spy on Order members at that gathering that I'm sure he'll be thrilled to hear about." He doesn't know if Arya is leaving, but as long as he keeps talking, keeps them distracted, keeps them terrified of their master, maybe they won't notice her.

"What?"

Severus sneered. "You think I choose to spend my evenings with muggles? Don't be an idiot. There were no less than three Order members in attendance there and I aimed to find out why." They're starting to stammer excuses. "No, I'm sure the Dark Lord will be fascinated as to why I didn't achieve my goal." He's hoping the lie will hold, that his gifts with Legilimency will hold. "Let's attend our master." The two are visible quaking when Severus gestures for them to depart ahead of him, his stern expression and tone sending them vanishing.

He glances down at a gentle brush against his wrist and turns to see Arya still behind him. Foolish woman. He steps back. "Severus?" Damn. With a ragged noise he steps back closer, grips her shoulders so he can kiss her harshly and then wrench her away.

"Go." His voice is guttural. "Go," he says again, as he starts to Disapparate. He knows, somehow, like a prophecy, that he will never see her again, that this last wide-eyed, bruised-lip glimpse of her as his atoms disintegrate will be his last view of her. But at least it is something. A little piece of hope, a little shred of happiness.

A little bit of magic.