The Potion Master's Apprentice (A Severus Snape love story)

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-One

Florence grimaced slightly when Severus told her he needed to go down Knockturn alley. She'd always despised the place, even when she was sent on errands there with other death-eaters.

"You don't have to come." He responded rather huffily when she began whining and begging him not to go. To this she furrowed her eyebrows, pouted exaggeratedly and scowled.

"But I want to be with you." She begged, beginning to sound more and more like a school-girl, something Severus was quick to pick up on. 

"You're acting like a child, Florence." He muttered, eyes darting around the crowded street to see if anyone was watching them. Her pout faltered to be replaced with a furious scowl. Severus sighed and pulled her to the side of the Alley, away from the swelling crowds of bustling magical folk. "Don't be cross at me, I can't help that I need to buy some supplies down there. You're welcome to stay here and I'll come back for you. 

Florence's scowl softened when he leant in and gave her a small, tender kiss on the cheek. When he pulled away she smiled warmly at him, something catching her eye down the street.

"I'll meet you in the Leaky Cauldron." She said quickly before slipping past him and disappearing into the gyrating mass of people crowding around a shop window. Florence completely ignored the new Quidditch Broom hanging in the window of the first shop she came to, and only briefly glanced at the gathering of owls perched in the next one. 

It wasn't the third shop she was interested in. The brightly painted sign glimmered luminescently above the door as it gently tingled when people stepped inside. It did indeed seem inviting, the scent of tanned leather and pungent perfume wafting around in bursts of tempting smell.

But she kept going past until the grimy windows of an old, ramshackle pub came into clear view. Alcohol hung heavy on the air as she made her way towards the peeling black door and pushed it slowly open.

A comforting sight met her eyes. Flickering and hissing in the hearth, a crackling fire slowly pulsated its warmth throughout the mismatch room. Surrounding various tables, one of which Florence was sure was  made out of an old door, were the strangest bunch of wizards and witches you could ever expect to see.

And standing at the bar, a bald, toothless man was grinning frantically at her, rubbing the goblet in his hand so vigorously it was surprising that it didn't shatter.

"Florence!" He called, placing the gleaming golden cup down onto the greasy bar and striding over to her with open arms.

"Hello Tom!" She smiled, giving him a small hug as the other occupants of the pub peered curiously at her.

"It's been a long time." He laughed rheumatically in a wheezy, spluttering voice. Florence nodded and swept past him, running a finger over the bar as she sidled up to the tall stool standing opposite it. Once perched on the shabby upholstery, she surveyed the pub with a look of dismay, eyes occasionally landing on a group of rowdy male wizards who were now staring at her.

"I've never seen you so empty Tom." She muttered, turning back to face the barman who had resumed his furious polishing.

"They'll come back. They always do." He smiled softly as the goblet began to slowly fill with a glistening amber substance, strong scent already penetrating Florence's nostrils and making her feel light headed. She received the Firewhiskey and as she went to pull a gleaming coin from her pocket a gentle hand on her arm stopped her.

"I'll get this Tom." The man said, smiling warmly at Florence who smiled faintly back.

"Thanks." She muttered, gently nursing the alcohol in her hands as the first sip began to burn the back of her throat, already filling her body with the comforting warmth.