“Miss Granger, I require your immediate assistance in the Potions lab.”
The newly appointed Muggle Studies professor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry knew that if the Headmaster felt it fit to get her out of bed at that inhuman hour, there must be dire need. Wrapping a cloak around her shoulders, she immediately made her way down to the dungeons.
She found him standing outside the Potions office, looking completely flummoxed.
“Miss Granger, I confess I do not know what to do.”
“Would you tell me what exactly the problem is, sir?”
The headmaster shoved an open book in her direction. “It’s Severus. It seems he got a hold of this book, discovered a new potion to brew, and made himself the lab rat. Apparently, he consumed this one. It seems Muggle related.” His bony finger poked at one particular paragraph.
Hermione lifted the book and started to read. “Fannus Fictorium Potion. Hmm….”
She carefully read the description. “Oh my, this is rather serious. Where is he?”
“He locked himself in his office.”
“We need to go in there immediately. There is no telling what he might do.”
With a bit of ward breaking and an Alohomora, they managed to get the door to the office open. Not a second too soon.
As they entered, they saw the Potions master cowering in a corner, weeping profusely. One hand held a knife, precariously poised over his wrist.
”Expelliarmus!” At a swish-and-point of Hermione’s wand, the knife flew out of his hand and into hers.
“Easy there, Professor,” she murmured soothingly to the pitiful figure as she transfigured the knife into a pin cushion. “Nice and easy. Everything will be all right.”
She sat herself down in one of the armchairs and waved Dumbledore over to the other one. “You might as well make yourself comfortable. It's going to be a long night.”
“Why?” Dumbledore asked as he settled himself in the chair. “Are you familiar with this potion? What does it do?”
“Yes,” Hermione sighed. “This potion requires you to go through many of the incarnations of your persona thought up by writers of something called ‘fanfiction’. Poor Severus is in for quite a rough time.”
Dumbledore looked in confusion at the whimpering form in the corner. “What the…?”
“Well,” Hermione looked at the book again, “I think this must be Suicidal!Cutting!Snape.”
As if on clue, the man in the corner started to weep louder. “I don’t deserve to live. Guilt consumes me. Evil is my middle name. Nobody loves me, everybody hates me, think I’ll go and eat worms… Give me back my knife.” Loud sobs shook his frame.
All of a sudden, the sobs stopped, and the man stood up straight. His appearance changed – the formerly greasy hair became silky and soft, his teeth straightened and whitened, his skin took on a beautiful bronze tone, and his body started bulging with muscles in all the right places. “Oh, no. I think it is Makeover!Snape,” Hermione said with a frown.
“Well hello there, Miss Granger,” the sexy voice of the Potions master purred. “I just got back from a vacation in the Bahamas where I got tan and buff. The beautiful waterski instructor there also had just the right solutions for my hair and teeth. I am all ready to seduce the new vampy Defense Against the Dark Arts mistress.”
“Erm, bad news, Professor,” Hermione said timidly. “Harry Potter is the new DADA master.”
Snape looked put out for only a moment. Then, “Well, so what?” he said.
“I think They!Are!All!Gay!Snape has arrived,” Hermione whispered to the Headmaster.
Turning to the Potions master she said, “Sorry, sir, Harry likes girls.”
“Well, what about Sirius?”
“Researching wild werewolf packs in Outer Albania.”
“Really, I think even in a desperate state he would be a last resort…”
Severus thought for a moment. “Well, that leaves… you!” he said, turning to the headmaster with a lecherous sneer.
Albus was up and behind his chair in a second. “Um, really, Severus, I don’t think this is a good idea…”
To his great relief, just then, the countenance of the Potions master changed again. His hair grew a couple of inches and was tied back with an ivory hair ornament; his skin took on porcelain whiteness, and his nose became a classic Roman proboscis. Gracefully, he sank down into the chair vacated by Albus and struck a brooding pose.
Hermione looked puzzled. “And you are…?” she asked hesitantly.
“I, my dear, am Melancholy!Aesthete!Snape,” he answered with perfect enunciation. “I love Shakespeare. I paint beautifully. I tango. I am proficient on the violin, the cello, and the grand piano, and sit in my green-and-silver-damask decorated bedroom playing out my Pain to the world in mournful melody. Because I have Pain. With a capital P.”
He suddenly slid off the chair and on his knees in front of Hermione. “All I need is the right woman to understand me and rescue me from my overwhelming loneliness. Oh Hermione...” He grasped her hand and started showering it with kisses.
“How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
my soul can reach, when feeling out of sight,
for the ends of Being and ideal Grace.
I love thee to the level of everyday's
most quiet need, by sun and candle-light…”
“Well, that is actually kind of nice,” Hermione murmured. “Scary, but nice.”
All of a sudden, he stood up and pulled her into his arms in one fluid gesture.
“Mmmm, you smell good,” she whispered, still entranced by the poetry.
“Yes, my mossy-lavender-herbal-vanilla-muskiness has slain more than one woman,” he said in a husky voice.
Hermione freed herself from his embrace, and with wide eyes backed up against the wall. “Oh no, it’s Sexgod!Snape.”
He followed her and whispered seductively into her ear while nibbling tantalizingly on her ear lobe. “I can show you pleasures you have never dreamed of. I can make all your dreams come true. No one is more skilled and passionate and considerate in bed than me. Do you want me to show you my…? It’s quite impressive, really.”
“Um, I think I will pass,” Hermione squeaked as she ducked under his arm and went to join Albus, who was still hiding behind the armchair.
“Good heavens, Hermione, how much longer will this go on?” Dumbledore whispered. “I can’t bear watching.”
“It should be over soon,” Hermione answered. “Just hang in there…oh Merlin, wands out, now!”
The seductive smile had changed into a sneering grimace. “Don’t hide from me, my little pretty,” he snarled. “I will find you.”
Dumbledore looked at Hermione in slack-jawed amazement. “Who is this?”
“It’s Deatheater!Rapist!Snape, I think,” she whispered back, never taking her eyes of the Potions master who was coming towards the easy chair.
His hands held in front of him in claw shape, he started chasing Hermione around the room. “I live to rape. I love to rape.”
Dumbledore looked at Hermione questioningly. “I thought that Death Eaters were mainly into torturing and killing Mudbloods and Muggles. No offense,” he added hastily.
Hermione shrugged. “Not in fanfiction. There, they are too busy raping to bother with that.” At that moment, Snape with vise-like strength grasped her wrist.
“Help me, Albus,” Hermione shrieked in complete terror while trying to wrestle away from the frightening spectre. “Please!”
Right then, the cloaked figure changed again. This Snape was dressed in blue jeans, a t-shirt, and trainers. He looked at her wrist in dismay, and flashed her a lop-sided grin. “Beg your pardon, dear, hope there’s no harm done.”
Hermione heaved a sigh and sank down into the chair again. “Just in the nick of time. Kindly!Father!Snape. What a relief.”
“Kindly WHAT?” Dumbledore asked the strangely-clad man in consternation.
“Hello Albus!” The man offered a friendly smile and a firm handshake. "You know that I just use that silly charm to make myself ugly and cantankerous at school so all the girls don’t fall for me, or some other such nonsense, don’t you? In my real life, I have two children, two dogs, a cat, and a cockatoo. My youngest, whom I named Lily after my lost love, is five. She loves the way I braid her hair. I make a mean poached egg, too. I am thinking of adopting Harry Potter; the poor boy needs someone who can love him and show him what a real family is like…”
“Isn’t Harry a bit too old for that at this point?” Dumbledore mouthed at Hermione behind his hand. Hermione, who was giggling helplessly, whispered back to him. “Let’s just humor him. I think this is almost over. One more, I think.”
At that moment, the figure changed again. He now looked exactly like Lucius-Malfoy-in-the-movie, cape, cane, and all, except with black hair. “Bow to me. I am Lord!Snape, the Great and Powerful. My incredibly rich family left me Snape Manor, the great estate, which I only leave occasionally to grace you mere mortals with my presence. I…” All of a sudden, his face looked flustered. “But I wear graying nightshirts. I live in a dungeon. And I work as a teacher. If I am so rich?...Something isn’t right…?”
“I think the potion is wearing off,” Hermione said, as the figure started to sway. She and Dumbledore jumped forward just in time to catch the Potions master as he crumpled in a dead faint.
A moment later, he woke up and looked with lifted eyebrows at Hermione, who was fanning his face. “Miss Granger, may I enquire as to what exactly the meaning of all this is?” he asked acidly, trying to sit up.
Hermione all of a sudden leaned forward and gave him a big kiss, tears running down her face.
“MISS GRANGER!” he bellowed. “Have you taken complete leave of the little bit of sense that you still had left?”
“No, Professor, I'm just so glad to have you back,” she said, sobbing. “The sneering curmudgeon we all know and love.”
He harrumphed and pulled himself up into a standing position. “I don’t know what happened, and I don’t think I want to know. I am going to bed.” And with a billowing of black robes, he swept from the room.
Dumbledore just looked at Hermione, then at the potions book. “Burn it,” he said, and swept out after Severus.
Hermione gazed one last time at the book in her hand, shuddered, and threw it into the fire.
“I guess I will never get to see GlamourPuss!’Mione now,” she muttered, as she made her way back to bed. “And good thing, too.”
This story was born after a particularly unfruitful foray into the Snape section of a most decidedly unmoderated archive. I am grieved to report that virtually all the details, from the ivory hair ornaments to the poached eggs, have been lifted from actual fics. I am missing Vampire!Snape, De-Aged!Snape, and He's!Having!A!Baby!Snape, but I just couldn't make them fit without the story starting to drag! The snippet of poem is, of course, E.B. Browning (public domain).