Ah, yes, Self-Insert!Mary Sue. If I had a dollar for every time I was accused of writing one of these in my SS/OFC fic, I wouldn't need to find a job. Since it's a common misconception that every OFC is a total self-insert, I decided to write myself into a fic in hopes of making the distinction. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: The only thing I own is myself, and even that is debatable.
Hi, My name Isn't Mary Sue
So much to do, I muttered to myself as I pull my mini-van into the driveway. I'm looking my post-workout 'best' in a bright, green T-shirt and gray yoga pants, which don't look particularly flattering on a body that has been pregnant three times. Instead of making me look perky and young, the bright color only emphasizes the fact I'm not wearing any make-up. My shoulder-length (unwashed) brown hair is pulled back in a ponytail and slicked into place with conditioner. Of course, my appearance is of minor importance when it's compared to what my day entails. The entirety of my to do list is being ticked off in my head. Put the groceries away, laundry, make desert for PTA potluck, (Dear God, let me find time to shower before the PTA meeting!) vacuum, pick the cat up from the vet, laundry, sew patches on middle child's Brownie vest, oldest needs to be picked up from junior track at five, youngest has dance at five-thirty... The list goes on and on seemingly forever. Disgruntled, I pop the hatch of the van open and grab the two bags containing frozen foods and perishables. I hurry to the back door and trip over a basketball. Groping in my tote bag to find my keys, I whimper, "And when am I going to find time to work on my Snape fic?"
I stumble into the kitchen, ignoring the dirty dishes in the sink for now, and start unpacking my shopping. Damn! I forgot the milk of all things! No, I know I bought that; it must be in another bag. Out I go to the van to get the rest of the bags.
From behind me, I hear my name spoken with a British accent. I'm so startled that I scream and drop one of the bags (most likely the one containing the eggs) as I back away from the van. There--looking equally startled--is a tall, thin man with a pale complexion and lank black hair. I'm staring at him like an idiot.
"Y-yes?" I mumble to the black clad figure, wishing I had my pepper spray on me.
"Don't you recognize me?"
I blink a few times, trying to determine if I can beat him to the door to call 9-1-1.
As if reading my mind, he says a bit impatiently, "I'm not going to harm you."
"Who exactly are you?"
"I'm Severus Snape, you silly girl." He fixes me with a harsh look.
I stifle a laugh, because this situation really isn't funny. "You're a character in a series of books or movies, not a real person. Besides, you don't look anything like the actor or that ugly, bald, bearded guy."
"Of course I don't," he says curtly. "Because I'm not those Severus Snapes; I'm your Severus Snape. The one you've been writing for the last three years."
Oh, Mother Mary! Who is this freak, and why has he been stalking me for three years? Does this guy read my fics and is he annoyed at the lag-time between updates? Not that I'm a Big Name Fanfic writer or even a very good one... "How did you know about that?"
"As I said, I'm your Snape; the one you write about in your fic Shadow on My Heart," he replies. "You are Lady Whitehart on Sycophant Hex and several other archives, correct?"
Not wanting to admit that he's right on the money, I ask, "Um... How did you come to that conclusion? No one knows about my fanfic writing, and I've been very careful not to make a connection between my real life self and my net self."
"I live in side your head, your laptop, and your very soul." He gives me a creepy, oily smile that might have been meant to look friendly but doesn't. "You know all about me, and I know a good deal about you. I thought it was time we met face-to-face."
This guy must be crazy! I think in a panic. I'm supposed to pick my youngest up from a friend's house at three. Will the mom think to send the police to the house if I don't show up, especially after she calls all of my contact numbers and gets no answer? I swallow hard and bring up my fists to defend myself as best I can, praying like anything that the gym membership was worth the money I've shelled out for it. "Get out of here right now, or I'll scream."
He laughs, which only succeeds in pissing me off. He points a slender stick at me, and immediately I feel calm and relaxed. As I look at him more closely, I find it odd how much he does look like the Severus Snape from my stories. Something tells me to trust him.
"My dear, I promised not to harm you, and I meant it." Severus points the stick at the bags, and they float up from the ground and glide towards the back door. "Let me get these in the house for you."
I obediently put one foot in front of the other and follow him into the house. About four steps in, I realize that the house is just shy of a disaster today. Two baskets of clean laundry that I started to fold last night are on the couch, toys and unclaimed sports equipment are strewn about, and an abandoned box of crayons and a drawing tablet are on the floor in front of the TV--oddly enough it's a picture depicting a scene from the first Harry Potter movie. The kitchen isn't much better. I cringe at the full sink and half-pot of cold coffee. The counter is cluttered with PTA paperwork and unsorted junk mail. The floor in front of the refrigerator is still slightly sticky from the last-minute juice flood I hastily cleaned up before dashing out the door this morning.
"Sorry about the mess. It's been a hectic week," I mumble. Reaching into the nearest bag, I discover that a jar of pasta sauce broke when I dropped the bag. "Crap!"
Waving his wand, Severus repairs the jar. With another wave, some of the cabinets open, and the food items put themselves away. I can't help but to think that I really wish I could do something like that. Magic would help me get a lot of my housework finished and leave me more time to write.
"Now, you said no one knows about your fanfiction. Why is that?"
"Huh?" I realize a little too late that he asked a question. "Oh, because that's a private thing just for me. Some days, tapping out a few paragraphs is the only thing I get to do for myself. That, and my family would likely laugh it off. No one takes fanfic writing seriously, but I've learned a lot over the last few years. I feel much more confident about writing. I'm hoping to write something original."
I shut up when I realize I'm babbling like a moron.
"Only a few paragraphs a day?" Severus's hooked nose crinkles in disgust. "Merlin's balls, it will take you another three years to write the story, provided you don't decide to do another revision or--"
"Hey, I wasn't happy with SoMH!" I protest angrily. "I wanted it to reflect my improved writing skills. You should be more grateful! Now I'm really tempted to delete all of those files and be done with you! You have no idea how many times I've stayed up to three-effing-AM to work on that story."
I turn away from him, feeling bitter tears well up. What a jerk!
A hand rests on my shoulder. "Oh, I do know, and I do appreciate it." His breath is soft against my cheek. "Callista is a wonderful creation. She's smart, funny, more patient with me than I deserve, loving, and giving, even though I don't always like that she stands up to me or has this foolish desire to be right or win an argument. I thank you for writing that story and giving me the potential to have a happy ending. Not every Snape is so lucky."
Embarrassed, I wipe at my eyes. "Yeah, well..."
"You put a lot of yourself into your writing," Severus says soothingly. "I was expecting to see Callista's face when we met, but--"
"Hope you weren't disappointed." I'm not exactly unattractive, but I look very little like the pretty thirty-something in my fic. The only physical feature we share is our hair color.
"Surprised? Yes. Disappointed? Not a bit." He gives me another creepy-yet-friendly smile. "You didn't give me a makeover."
"I didn't want to make you over. I wanted Callista to love you warts and all." It's my turn to wrinkle my nose and sound disdainful. "Do you want me to make you over?"
"No, thank you" he answers, slipping his fingers through an oily mane of thick, black hair. "You didn't make me bearded and bald, so I'm reasonably content with how I look in your head." He laughs, and it's a strange sound coming from such a severe-looking man. He waves his wand again, and the next thing I know piles of folded and sorted clothes are gliding past us. The clean dishes go into their proper places, while the dirty ones sort themselves out in the dishwasher. The misplaced items on zoom to their homes, and the floors suddenly become spotless. Dust vanishes. I'm speechless; all of my morning work is done! A creature I recognize as a house-elf pops into view carrying a large basket from which delicious smells are wafting.
"There," Severus says, bowing gallantly. "Dinner for this evening and a cake for your school meeting. You will also be receiving word from your friends with offers to drop off your children; I suggest you accept them."
"But everything's done! I won't know what to do with myself."
He gives an exasperated look. "I want you to write. Make yourself a pot of that swill you Americans pass off as tea and write until it's nearly time for your children to come home. Then take a leisurely bath and get ready for your meeting. As for the meeting, unless you really want to take on a committee or task no one will offer anything to you. Above all enjoy this time. I can't do it very often but consider it my way of thanking you for not deleting your stories when your muse abandoned you."
Feeling lightheaded with happiness, I throw my arms around my version of Severus Snape and hug him tightly. At first Severus is stiff and startled, but after a moment he relaxes and pats my back gently. When we part, I give him a warm smile. "I promise to write an extra juicy lemon to thank you."
His black eyes glitter. "I look forward to it."
With a pop, a fragrant pot of proper tea wrapped in a cosy appears on the recently decluttered counter next to my laptop. I recognize it by smell as one of the teas I had at a tearoom the weekend prior.
"Thank you, Severus."
"Think nothing of it, my dear Lady Whitehart." He shakes my hand before pressing my fingers to his lips. "One question before I depart."
There is a contemplative look in his eyes. "Do you plan on finishing Meant to Be... Enemies?"
It's been ages since have thought about that fic let alone worked on it. My face grows warm and red, and I give him an honest answer. "I'd like to."
"Good," he says with a satisfied smile. "I loved that fic and Eileen's Hope. You gave me a much nicer childhood than the original Severus Snape had, and I consider myself to be rather fortunate.
"Well, according to an interview at one time you were greatly loved by someone in the story. I didn't think at the time it was such a stretch to think it may have been your parents who loved you."
There was a pause before he asked a bit hesitantly, "You won't portray Lily in too horrible of a light will you? I hate it when other authors trash her good name." His eyes close, and Severus lets out a sigh. "I-I was partly to blame for some of that mess. I can see that now."
"Oh, Severus, none of you can help how your characters were written," I say, squeezing his hand comfortingly. "But if it means that much to you, I'll do my best to at least be fair."
"Thank you." He returns the gesture. "And...?"
There is a look in his eyes that is both teasing and threatening at the same time "Don't pair me up with that bushy-haired, ninny Granger ever again, or your muse will vanish for a very long time."
In disbelief, I sputter, "But-but that was a crackfic, a joke!"
"I understand that, but I really cannot stand Granger."
I nod. The visit feels over, but I don't want him to go. Spending time with the Snape in my head has meant far more to me than having half of the things on my never-ending to do list completed. With a resigned sigh, I ask, "This is good-bye then, isn't it?"
"Hardly," Severus answers. "I'm just a few taps on the keyboard away. As long as you write about me or think about me or read about me, I'll always be here." He kisses me on the cheek. "Best wishes to you, Lady Whitehart."
Severus turns on the spot and disappears. I feel a slight sense of loss at his departure, but remembering his words, I climb up onto my kitchen stool and pour a cup of tea. I breathe in the aromatic steam and savor a sip while my trusty laptop takes it's good sweet time to boot up. Settling the cup in its saucer, I begin to type, and the words come to me easily:
Chapter 3: Unavoidable Encounters
Severus knelt before the Dark Lord, waiting to be acknowledged. It was a private meeting, and the wizard was grateful not to have to deal with Bellatrix and her accusations for a change. The woman was clearly less than sane after her stint in Azkaban and was constantly trying to catch him in some minor inconsistency. He knew he was clever enough to not be trapped in one of attempts to expose him, but her persistence was grating.
“It has been reported that Callista Hawkins has been brought out of hiding,” came the cold, high voice. "Is this true, Severus?"...
And that is why this author doesn't make for a very interesting character. The fics mentioned in this story are all mine and can be found on my links list of my main journal. For those who missed it, the SS/HG fic mentioned is Ho'moaning, which is part of the series, Attack of the Mary Sue Commandos. Hope to hear from you! Lady Whitehart