Chapter Text
South London 2002
Severus Snape could feel the sweat running down his back and ribs. The thin white teeshirt he wore under his plastron doing nothing to soak up the moisture. Adrian was, as always, pushing him hard. He did something desperately virile and aggressive in the City and hated to lose anything to anyone. It was easy for Severus the spy, to conclude from Adrian’s erratic angry movements that he’d had a shitty frustrating day.
Severus stamped an appel tricking Adrian into a lunge-attack which Severus easily parried. Adrian stepped back from Severus’ riposte and a further lunge-attack found the tip of Severus’ weapon pressed against Adrian’s sternum and he was gratified to see a bright green light bloom behind him.
Severus removed his foil from his adversary’s lamé as the director called “touché," then "halte”. He stepped back and lifted his helmet, panting. As he pushed his sweaty hair away from his forehead and tucked his foil under his arm, his opponent outstretched his hand.
“Congrats, Stephen, I really thought I had you with that last bout… Sorry about the fingers…” Adrian did not look sorry in the slightest.
Severus flexed his ungloved left hand. Adrian had caught him across the fingers with the side of his foil leaving a smarting red line across all four.
“You’re lucky she didn’t give you a red card,” said Severus indicating the director with his head. Irina, the Polish referee could spot the tiniest of infractions and was usually a stickler for the rules but was always more than a little distracted on Tuesdays when Danny ran the club.
“Pub?” asked Adrian. Severus nodded his assent as he drank deeply from his water bottle.
Severus followed Adrian to the changing rooms where they helped each other unbuckle their gear before heading to the showers.
As Severus let the hot water pour over his aching body, Adrian yapped in the cubicle next door, blethering the same boring shite he'd blethered last week and the week before...
“Fuck, Irina is so hot. Her arse and thighs look fucking amazing in her breeches. Although I’d prefer them sans breeches and wrapped around my face. I bet under that Polack ice queen exterior her pussy is streaming with molten fucking lava.”
As usual Severus tuned it all out. Adrian has as much chance with Irina, as with… him frankly. You didn’t need to be a master spy to see that Irina was smitten with the pretty boy Danny, whose blue green eyes shone out of a milk chocolate coloured face, framed by a riotous halo of curls that he shook out like a model in a shampoo ad each time he removed his helmet.
“…. do you think you’ll make it?”
Fuck, thought Severus, what had Adrian asked him? Should he just plump for a yes or no and deal with the consequences afterwards. No, too risky with Adrian, he’d find himself in a strip club or shooting lions on the savannah before you knew it.
“Huh? Sorry, had soap in my ears…”
“The inter-club tournament next weekend? You coming?”
“Dunno, not sure what I have on yet.”
“I checked the King’s Club website… Some of those lady members are fucking sizzling. And there are lots of fives and sixes who will be so grateful for Daddy’s attention, they’ll do absolutely anything.”
Ugh, another tournament spent watching Adrian touch an obvious stiffy under the guise of readjusting his groin protector. Severus wondered how the permanently amped-up Adrian got through each day without exploding like a piñata full of jizz over whichever random female minion made the mistake of smiling at him. Nope, he’ll be giving next weekend a miss, thank you very much.
As they walked out of the changing rooms, Danny was loitering.
“Stephen, a word?” Severus looked at Adrian who said he’d slip next door and get a round in.
“It’s about next weekend’s tournament against King’s. I’m going to need you to fence. Adrian’s too inconsistent and constantly fouling. I saw him slash you across the fingers so if he decides to be a dick, which let’s face it he always does, he’ll get a black card.”
“I really hadn’t planned on it.” Severus sighed. He knew he was one of the better fencers at the club, if not the best after Danny, Irina and Paolo, the instructors. He was disciplined and unrelenting and easily won most bouts. Gah, he’d have to say yes to Danny.
“Sure, Danny, I’ll be there, no probs.”
As he slumped into his chair at the pub, he glanced at his sore finger tips and glowered at Adrian as he downed half of his pint in one swallow. Fucking Adrian. Severus had been dealing with total pricks like him since school. Adrian was just the latest total prick in a long line of total pricks. Pricks like his dad, Voldemort, Albus, Lucius and the prickiest prick of them all James Potter. Sure, being made to attend a tournament doing something he enjoyed enormously was nothing compared to endless rounds of being Crucioed by the Dark Lord as Bellatrix stamped on his balls, but right now, were he given the choice, Severus wasn’t 100% sure which way he’d lean.
A couple more beers and a whiskey later, after Adrian had disappeared into the brightly lit maw of Oval tube station, Severus crossed over to St Mark’s Church then, under cover of the trees in the dark churchyard, he apparated home.
Severus unpacked his sports bag and threw his sweaty kit into the wash. He’d need to dig out his newer set for the tournament next weekend. After the war, he’d sworn off being controlled by manipulative wizards and being made to do stuff he didn’t want to do yet here he was allowing Danny to guilt him into attending next weekend. All because Adrian was such an unpredictable arrogant prick.
He looked up at a tapping noise at the window. A handsome great horned owl that he recognised as belonging to Lucius Malfoy stood on the sill, holding a thick creamy envelope in its outstretched talon. Smirking at the irony of thinking of ‘unpredictable arrogant pricks’ at the very moment Lucius’ owl arrived, Severus took the letter and fed the owl a couple of treats from the jar he kept near the window before it swooped away into the night.
He cracked open the stiff parchment with its ostentatious peacock blue seal with a slender finger his eyes rolling in disbelief at the letter’s contents. It was an invitation to a ceremony renewing the bond between Narcissa and Lucius, followed by a celebratory ball. The first couple of years after the war had been touch and go for the Malfoys, Narcissa had been pretty piqued at Lucius for allowing a psychopathic mass-murderer to live in their house and could barely forgive him for making Draco take the mark. Lucius must have done a hell of a lot of grovelling as well as buying a shedload of jewellery, thought Severus.
The invitation was for Master Severus Snape & guest, Lucius had scrawled on one corner in teal coloured ink ‘I know you don’t have anyone to bring so disregard the & guest bit. See you there! Lu.’
What a cheeky cunt! Of all the fucking nerve, he’d show him. Severus glanced at the invitation again. The event was in six weeks’ time. Six weeks to find and somehow convince a beautiful witch to be his date. Gods, it’s not like he didn’t already have enough on his plate with work and the tournament next weekend. Flicking through his mental rolodex he thought of the women he’d known. Minnie, Poppy, Pomona, Rolanda… yeesh, all mother figures to him. Lily, dead. Charity, dead. Tonks, dead… Bellatrix, a complete psycho and yeah, also dead…
He was going to have to hit some wizarding hotspots and chat up some suitable candidates. Hmmm, he needed a wingman, not Lucius obviously. Despite thinking he was God’s gift to women, most witches tended to find Lucius a bit of a prat. He’d speak to George Weasley tomorrow when they met for their weekly catch up. At least George was not the type to howl with laughter if Severus struck out, not since Fred had died anyway. And it’d be good for George too; it’d been at least six months since he’d broken up with Angelina and he needed to get back out there.
Operation plus one was on.