"Most places," Essery agreed. She thought, actually, that he looked rather dashing in an awkward, hipster sort of way - though thinking about Severus Snape as a black-decked hipster made her prone to giggles and she had to fight back the urge. She could have gotten him a beret, taken him to some coffee shop with a horrible poetry ready, and it would have made the world implode.
Instead she smiled at him, her hand coming to rest at his elbow as she looked around to get her bearings and then started them down the right street toward the little pub her muggle friend of a friend's cover band was playing in.
For her part, she was wearing black jeans, too, and a deep purple sweater, and she was trying incredibly hard to think of this as just a date, and not a date with Severus Snape, who she had kissed, and who thinking about seemed to be a surefire way to short circuit her brain, largely because most of her was sure that this was not a good idea, and that the more logical part of her brain told her she didn't know him nearly as well as she felt that she did. The same, largest parts of her brain weren't letting her care about either of those things.