In Trade (PG-13; Aberforth/Severus; 200 words): Aberforth takes what he can get.
The argument was loud and shrill before Snape, looking like a whipped dog, entered the pub.
"I see she's left you with a token of her affection," Aberforth said, sliding him a pint. "No wonder you look so blue. . . . Women, can't live with 'em—"
"Wasn't," Snape muttered, draining his glass and slamming it down.
Aberforth poured him another. "That eye didn't blacken itself."
"Wasn't a woman." Snape frowned. "Merely a disagreement between . . . friends."
"Tattooed, was he, this 'friend' of yours?" Aberforth asked, remembering his brother's interest in the boy.
"He frequents your . . . establishment. Perhaps you might develop a rapport with him."
Snape knocked back his drink. "Another."
Aberforth shook his head. Albus can collect his own sodding information. "Pay up and go home. You've taken enough punishment tonight."
Snape sighed and fished about in his robes. "Fuck."
"That would be a creative form of payment, but I prefer Galleons."
Snape glanced at the greasy front window and then back to Aberforth, flushing. "Rosier says you sometimes do take it out in trade."
Aberforth's cock twitched. "Young Evan, he's that friend of yours, is he?"
"Look, do you want your cock sucked or not?" Snape demanded.
"'Spose I do, at that."