Neville said curiosly, "Not even to propose?"

Scribe thought a minute. "He's not proposing the only other reason where I think a guy on his knees in front of me would be justified." The Italian prince had stood, and was stroking the underside of her wrist with his thumb. "I could be wrong--maybe he is proposing that."

"What is it?"

"You're too young."

Neville sighed heavily. "Gosh, I'll be glad when I grow up. I have a feeling there's an awful lot whizzing right over my head."

Scribe extracted her hand from Rudy's grip. "Well, you'll want to be toddling along to give Daddy the good news, maybe arrange a nice little session with the Dementors for ol' Iago." He was just gazing at her. "Don't you have a library book or something that's way overdue?"

He smiled, "Can you make pasta?"

"Sure, I can boil water."

He made a face. "Poor deprived bambina. No, make pasta. Semolina, eggs..." He shrugged. "I don't expect you to know how to make sauce properly. My Mama will be happy to teach you."

"Are you kidding? That's why God gave us Ragu."

"Ah, I see your concern. Do not worry, Bellisima. She will not be the interferring sort, and I'm sure she will not expect a grandchild before our first anniversary."

Scribe stared at him. "You have no idea how happy that makes me, since I'm not marrying you."

"But of course you are." His tone was jovial and soothing, like an adult telling a three year old sure, he'd enjoy taking that nap!

"I'm not, you know."

The students, and some of the staff, were watching this exchange rather like Muggles watched tennis, heads swivling back and forth as each participant spoke. Rudy smiled charmingly at one of the senior boys. "Is she always this coy?" He shrugged. "Ah, but they are sweet when they play hard to get."

"What do I have to do, kick you where it hurts the worst?"

Neville blinked. "Can she kick high enough to reach his funny bone?"

"Will someone have a talk with that boy?!" Scribe pleaded. "I can't help but wonder it this yokel is related to Gildroy Lockheart. He's got the blonde hair, and he darn sure has the over healthy self-esteem."

Rudy looked toward Dumbledore. "Headmaster, I understand this would be unorthodox, but aren't there interconnecting rooms?" He gave Scribe a melting look. "I would of course be a gentleman, but I'd like to be as close to my betrothed as possible."

"I'm not going to marry you!"

"Why not?"

"You mean aside from the fact that you're pissing me off, and I think I might very easily come to hate you?"

"Yes."

The simple one word response left her gaping. *Huh. Well, what the fuck now?* "I can't because... uh..." A lightbulb didn't exactly pop into existance over her head--the idea wasn't brilliant enough for that, but it was all she could come up with on such short notice. "I'm already promised to another."

"Really?" Dumbledore looked surprised. "I don't recall anything like that being mentioned in the book that described your life before you came to us."

"And thank you so much for that tidbit of information," Scribe hissed, when the prince perked up again. "He's not back in my home world. It's someone here."

There was an immediate, excited buzz. Almost as one the entire student body turned to look at Snape. It took him a second to react. "What are you all gawping at? These robes don't mean I'm a bloody monk."

Rudy shook his head. "I do not believe you. You tease me, mi amore. You would never affiance yourself to such..."

"Excuse me?" Snape had stood up so abruptly that his chair scraped on the stone floor so shrilly that house elves in the kitchen covered their ears and squeaked.

"Oh." Rudy, not being a complete fool, saw that he'd made a very bad judgement. "I mean... You're position, Signor Snape..."

Snape stalked around the end of the table, even the swishing of his robes radiating anger. He stopped beside Scribe and folded his arms, glaring at the blonde man. "Marriage is not forbidden for Hogwarts instructors, Prince. It never has been--it's simply that not many spouses are willing to isolate themselves out here."

*Well, this is more than I hoped for,* Scribe thought. *I never would have expected him to play along like this. Just as well. The only other possibility I could think of would have been Hagrid. He's a nice guy, but there's just too damn much of him, and most of it's muscle and hair.* She sort of leaned against Snape, draping an arm over his shoulders. "See? I told you." She rose slightly on tiptoe and dropped a kiss on Snape's lean cheek.

"It just doesn't seem possible," protested the Italian.

"Well," growled Snape, "if you must have proof..." He moved quickly--so quickly that Scribe didn't have time to do more than squeak before she found herself clasped in a pair of strong arms, jerked tight against Snape's body, bent slightly backward, and being kissed breathless.

Dead silence for a moment. Then the Slytherin table errupted. There was shouting, stamping, clapping, whistling, and some howling that would have made Remus Lupin sit up and take notice. It would take the house elves some time to collect all the napkins and half-eaten rolls that went flying in a burst of exuberance.

Snape lifted his head for a moment, giving the gaping Italian prince a dark look. "Convinced yet?"

"I... You... Signorina Scribe, say the word and I shall rescue you!"

Scribe's voice was a little breathless. "Sod off." She still had her arm around Snape's neck. Now she tightened it, jerking him back down and lunging up enthusiastically to continue the kiss.

Neville Longbottom, standing near the pair, suddenly yelped. "What are they doing with their tongues?"

Madame Pomfrey covered her eyes wearily. "Someone else gets to answer the questions, or else I want extra pay for instruction in the facts of life.

"Severus," said Dumbledore sternly. The potions master seemed preoccupied. "Miss Mozell..." Scribe just kicked one foot up in back, like an ingenue in a 1930s romantic comedy. The effect was ruined when she then hooked her foot around Snape's legs, trying to eliminate that last molecule of space still between their bodies. "Drat. I suppose I'd best do something, or the student's will get a sort of education that isn't included in the curriculum."

He pulled out his wand and gestured toward the entwined pair. "Abruptio."

Scribe felt as if someone had grabbed her around the middle and jerked back--hard. Her grip slipped, and she skidded backward. She found herself, slightly dazed, standing several feet away from Snape. Snape never looked ruffled (well, unless he'd been involved in some sort of venture that would have left anyone else looking like they'd gone through a war), but now his hair was rumpled, and his robe was disarranged--both from Scribe's clutching. Scribe watched as he began to tug his robe back into order, and caught a smirk. *Uh-oh.* Then she felt Rudy's hand fall on her shoulder. *Double uh-oh.*

"Excellent!" said the prince. "I thank you, headmaster, for dissolving that ill-considered alliance. Now we can..."

Severus snapped, "What the hell are you on about--dissolved the alliance?"

"Abruptio--divorce." said Rudy smugly.

"I'm afraid you misunderstood," said Dumbledore. "I meant it in purely the physical sense of seperation, and it accomplished exactly what I intended. Miss Mozell is very new here, but Severus, I need hardly remind you of the school policy on public displays of physical affection." Snape shrugged. Dumbledore looked sternly at Scribe. "Miss Mozell, student-teacher interaction is not to be conducted on such a level."

Now she shrugged. "Expell me."

He rubbed his forehead, sighing. "I thought we'd covered that. You could not support yourself, and we cannot risk having the Muggle world alerted to our existence."

"Oh, please! All I have to do is try to sell my story to every tabloid and 'reality' television show in existence. I'd make enough money to keep me going till I figured out how to support myself, and my credibility would be zero with anyone who had enough brains to be a serious threat to you."

"It is not open to discussion."

She threw up her hands. "You're such a Mom!"

"I beg your pardon?"

"'Not open to discussion' is a fancy way of saying, 'because I said so', and that was always her answer to anytime I said, I questioned an order I thought was unreasonable." She glanced at Ron, who was nodding. Yeah, he would be quite familiar with that, having dealt with Molly Weasley all his life. "Did she give you the 'well, I'm not so-and-so's mother' any time you tried to tell her what the other kids' parents did?" He nodded. "Muggle or wizard, Moms are pretty universal."

*prribt* She suddenly looked startled. She reached into her hair, near her temple, rummaged gently, and extracted the same tiny green frog who had begun this farce by speaking to her. "Kermit! You don't get into a lady's hair without permission."

*croak*

"Well, yeah, I suppose you're right--calling myself a lady is stretching things a bit, but you know what I mean. Anyway, I'm sorry about your friends. Maybe we ought to, um, transfer them to the lake. I'm starting to feel kind of nasty, thinking about grinding up creatures that I might, but for a twist of fate, have been able to hold a conversation with."

"Hang on!" protested a Gryffindor boy. "Those things are worth a jolly good set of points for the house." Hermione bopped him with a spoon. "Ow! I don't care! Maybe you lot can be cavalier about it, but my grades aren't the best, and my house winning this year would go a long way toward keeping my old man off my arse. I don't want to lose the points."

While Gryffindors were generally the noble, do-the-right-thing stick in the muds, who would never have conscioned animal abuse (though Scribe later remarked that, as with most people, the inclination to protect the animal was usually in direct proportion to how cute and fuzzy it was), they were still keen competitors. There were supporting murmurs.

Scribe looked at Snape. "Well, maybe he'll go ahead and award a few points for our willingness to work and zeal in the pursuit of academic excellence."

The boy snorted. "Fat chance."

Snape was studying her. "I might be persuaded."

Now the speaker gaped in astonishment, then whispered, "Gosh, maybe they are engaged!"

"I don't believe it," said Draco. "A Slytherin passing up the chance to get goods without expense or effort?"

Snape tossed him a cool look. "On further thought, magically produced frogs would not be a wise choice for potion ingredients. There's no telling what sort of unseen side-effects might occure, and I have enough of that to worry about with Longbottom. The amphibians may be deposited in the lake--I'm sure the denzins could do with a light snack. In consideration of their cleaning efforts, and helping feed the needy lake creatures, I'll award Gryffindor twenty-five points."

"I don't believe it!" gasped Ron.

"And to be fair, I'll award each of the other houses twenty-five also, thirty to Slytherin for maintaining dignity during this fiasco."

"I believe it."

"Dumbledore looked down at a house elf who was standing at his side. "Please go out to the cottage and inform Hagrid that he's needed. We'll allow him to, er, release the frogs into the wild." The elf nodded, and trotted off.

Scribe was holding Kermit in the palm of her hand, petting him with one fingertip while he croaked busily. McGonnagal was watching this with interest. "Miss Mozell, unless I'm sadly mistaken, you have acquired a familiar."

"Ya think? That's what he's been telling me." *ribbet?* "No, I don't mind at all. Am I going to have to find you, like, flies, and stuff?" *crrrk* "Yeah, I thought they looked like a mouthful, as tiny as you are. What would you like?" *brrj* She laughed. "Who wouldn't?"

"What did he say?" asked Harry, curious.

"He said 'Ben and Jerry's'. Don't think they have it, Kermit. Anything else?" It should have been impossible for a frog to shrug, since they pretty much don't have shoulders, but Kermit managed it. *wroov* "Oh, okay."

"I have to ask," said Hermione.

"He said whatever I have will be fine with him. Not the chocolate frogs though, eh Kermit? It'd be a bit too close to cannibalism."

"Well," said Dumbledore, "I think we've all had enough excitement for the evening. I strongly suggest that everyone adjourn to their respective houses. I know it's asking a lot, but please try to keep gossip and speculation to a minimum. We generate enough mischief on a normal basis as it is, and I'm quite frankly too tired to deal with what would be entailed by attracting the attention of one of the Trickster entities."

There was a deep blue flash, and suddenly a tall, slender, very pale man in black leather, was standing beside him. "Too fuckin' late, Grandad."

He stepped quickly down to where Severus, Scribe, and Rudy were standing, his boot heels clocking on the floor, the various shiny chrome ornaments on his outfit jingling. Stopping in front of Scribe, he gave her a grin that would have made a Deatheater piss his robes. "Peek-a-boo, Scribey-poo."

She rolled her eyes toward heaven. "The Chinese have a curse--may you live in interesting times. Well, my life just gets more interesting by the second. Hi, Strife."