"Buy you a drink?"
   Snape turns slowly to look at the slicked-back hair and the sunglasses.  He snorts.  "You have /got/ to be kidding."
   Crowley smiles more snakily than Snape could ever hope to.  "Just a drink, man, just a drink."
   Snape flicks a hand, and Crowley's sunglasses snap off his face and fly across the room.  Snape returns to his drink.
   Crowley laughs.  "Is that the bessst you can do?"
   Snape stands and brandishes his wand.  "No," he says, as blue flame arcs toward Crowley.
   Crowley ducks and laughs, flashing small white teeth at the bar's now alert patrons.  A wand appears in his hand, and he matches Snape's every spell with nonsense and pretty lights.
   Most of the other patrons having at one time or another been students in Snape's classroom, the cheering crowd is on Crowley's side.
   "Fuck this," Crowley says suddenly, and Snape's wand disintegrates.  Crowley's eyes glow.  "You're mine /now/."