Lucius Malfoy stomped through several rooms of his mansion before coming across his elusive guest. Snape sat placidly in one of the parlors, legs crossed, looking far too casual. He was sipping on a margarita. Lucius made a mental note to beat that blasted house-elf—a margarita? Since when were Muggle drinks allowed in his home?
“Alright, Severus, what is so important I had to miss my appointment with Miss Swan?” demanded Lucius, tapping his cane impatiently.
Lucius rolled his eyes. “At the Gorgeous Pretty Beauty Hair Salon. Ring any bells?”
“Not really,” Severus replied, curling his lip. “Although I can see why that’s so important.”
“Some of us,” retorted Lucius with his own lovely sneer, tossing his blond mane over his shoulder, “take pride in our appearance.” He flicked a bit of lint off his robes.
“Yeah,” said Snape, spilling the margarita on his robe. He looked down at it and shrugged. “Anyway, do you remember, oh, two months ago when you transfigured me for Draco to take in to show-and-tell?”
“Yes,” replied Lucius warily. For some reason Severus had balked at the idea of being Draco’s pet monkey for an afternoon. It wasn’t as if Lucius had a choice, after all; Draco had accidentally killed the creature after telling everyone he had a monkey. It would have looked bad for the Malfoys not to provide one of the smelly beasts.
“Well, I didn’t really appreciate it. In fact, I distinctly remember shouting to you that you’d rue the day when you pointed your wand at me.”
“Oh, Severus, lighten up. The other children thought you were splendid. And you were certainly more attractive than you are now.” Lucius gave a nauseated frown. “The teacher, on the other hand, advised me to keep my feces-throwing primate out of her classroom. So, in the scheme of things, you were the one who caused trouble.”
“I was a monkey!”
Lucius sighed and rolled his eyes again. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
Severus gulped the remainder of his cocktail, then reached inside his robe and pulled out a lovely white cat with long fur and startling blue eyes. At the look of alarm on Lucius’ face, he grinned evilly. Technically, it was more of an amused sneer, grins being foreign to him.
“What are you doing with Snowball?” Lucius asked as he crept toward Snape, inching across the floor.
Severus stroked the cat, enjoying Lucius’ discomfort. “I’m petting him. He likes me.”
“No, he doesn’t, he only likes me.”
Lucius stamped his foot petulantly. “Give me my cat! If you hurt him…”
“Oh, Lucius,” Severus drawled. “I wouldn’t harm your cat. If, indeed, it is your cat. Maybe it’s Narcissa, or even Draco.”
Lucius’ eyes narrowed, his mouth squeezed into a thin line. “Severus, give me my—whoever it is.”
“Not just yet.” Severus casually reached into his robe, this time pulling out his wand to point it directly at the other man, who gave the most delectable gasp of horror. “Imperio!”
He set the cat on the sofa, where it lay down and proceeded to lick itself, oblivious to anything else. Next he reached behind the sofa and lifted out a large black box. In Muggle language, a boom box.
An expression of dread crossed Lucius’ face. “What are you doing?”
“Dance, Lucius. Dance.” One finger pressed down a button, causing a blaring rendition of “I’m Too Sexy” to flood the room.
I’m too sexy for my love, too sexy for my love, love’s going to leave me.
Obeying his command, Lucius dropped his cane, lifted his arms, and began gyrating to the music. For an uptight, pureblood wizard, he had remarkable rhythm.
I’m too sexy for my shirt, too sexy for my shirt, so sexy it hurts.
His hands ran through his locks, down his chest, and across his thighs, then around to squeeze his buttocks as he arched his back.
I’m too sexy for your party, too sexy for your party, no way I’m disco dancing.
“You’ve made your point!” Lucius yelped, strutting back and forth to the music, flinging his hair around his head like a top.
I’m a model, you know what I mean, and I do my little turn on the catwalk. Yeah, on the catwalk, on the catwalk, yeah.
He spun around with a seductive pout and pranced across the floor.
I’m too sexy for my car, too sexy for my car, too sexy by far. I’m too sexy for my hat.
“Severus, let me go!” His hands raked through his mane again, messing it terribly. “You’re ruining my hair!”
On the catwalk, on the catwalk, yeah. I shake my little tush on the catwalk.
Lucius bent over slightly to wiggle his rear to the music, sending Severus into hysterical laughter, doubling him over with mirth.
I’m too sexy for my hand, too sexy for my hand.
Lucius shimmied across the parlor and halted in front of Snape, then one hand clutched his crotch as he gyrated his hips back and forth. “I’ll kill you, Severus!”
“Then it would behoove me to keep you dancing, wouldn’t it?” smirked Snape. From somewhere in his voluminous robes he’d withdrawn a bottle of Firewhisky and proceeded to chug it.
I shake my little tush on the catwalk.
More ass wiggling, accompanied by a slap to his own rear that made Snape spew the contents of his mouth onto the floor and burst into cackles.
I’m too sexy for my cat, too sexy for my cat, poor pussy cat.
Lucius leaned over the grooming feline, stroking its back with one hand, his own tresses with the other, then stood to feel up his chest and thighs again, all the while romping and posturing most sensuously.
I’m too sexy for my love.
“Damn it, let me go! So help me God, if I start taking off my clothes, I won’t use the Killing Curse, I’ll make you suffer for weeks before I finish you off!” Spinning gyrations, more strutting and pouting with those luscious lips.
I’m too sexy for this song.
The music blessedly ended, and Lucius stopped cold, panting and red-faced with fury and embarrassment. “I have never been so humiliated in my life!” One hand itched to retrieve his wand from the floor, but with Severus’ wand still in his hand, it didn’t seem the wisest course.
Snape squinched up his face in thought. “Hmm. Really? If I were you, I’d have been a lot more embarrassed several years ago when—in front of the whole of Slytherin House—Narcissa slapped your face, broke off your engagement, and told you to rot in hell. But that’s just me.” He shrugged. “I wonder how it compares to being a freaking monkey!”
“Oh, we’re on that again, are we?” grumped Lucius as he tried to smooth his hair. “At least I didn’t make you a dancing monkey.”
“I probably would have been sexier than you,” retorted Snape, mimicking Lucius’ hands-through-the-hair. “Is that supposed to excite someone?”
“Women happen to like it,” he clipped. “They wish they had my hair.”
“In their fists, shaking it,” quipped Snape, sneering.
“And by the way, what has a cat box got to do with anything?” asked Malfoy.
Lucius gave a disgusted grunt, then sang, “On the cat box, on the cat box, yeah. I do my little turn on the cat box.”
“It’s catwalk, moron. Catwalk.”
“So what is a catwalk?” Malfoy demanded, hands on hips, eyebrows raised.
“How the hell would I know?” Severus shot back. “Do I look like a model?”
Lucius appraised him closely, studying him up and down, shaking his head and whistling softly to himself. “Hardly,” he said dryly. Then, remembering his family, he stalked over to the cat. “Give me back my wife… or son.”
“I would if I could,” said Severus, feigning sorrow.
“What do you mean? Perform the countercharm!”
“Sorry, there isn’t one. That’s your cat, Snowball.” He smirked again and swilled some more Firewhisky. “Well, it’s been fun, but I have an appointment with Miss Sw—swing low, sweet chariot,” he finished with a guilty snarl. Nice save, Severus, he congratulated himself.
Lucius eyes narrowed to mere slits. “You stole my appointment!”
Severus lifted one eyebrow in consternation. How did he figure that out? “We’ll just call it even all around, how about that? No more pranks or transfigurations. Deal?”
“I guess,” Lucius sulked. He needed that appointment now more than ever with the way he’d been mishandling his locks!
After Snape left, Lucius noticed the hideous Muggle contraption he’d left behind. In spite of his vocal protests, it hadn’t been that bad… kind of fun to cut loose and drop the pureblooder-than-thou attitude, actually. He pressed the button he’d seen Snape hit, immediately filling the room with song. With a wild, raw energy he flung himself into the music, prancing and gyrating like there was no tomorrow.
The song was nearly over when he ‘did a little turn’ on the coffee table to see his wife and son gaping at him from the doorway. He tumbled off the table and slammed the off button.
With as much dignity as he could muster, he addressed his son. “Draco, you did NOT see that. Did you?”
The seven-year-old, well accustomed to forgetting what he wasn’t supposed to know, shook his head. “No, sir.”
Narcissa patted Draco’s hair. “Son, go up to your room to play.” The moment he was gone, she smirked viciously at her husband. “He didn’t see it, but I did.”
“Narcissa, I was just—”
“Shut up, love slave,” she hissed, yanking the front of his robes, pulling him against her. “We’re going upstairs, and you’re going to give me a full exhibition. Is that understood?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he agreed, eyes glinting.
“Bring that box thing along.”
They ran for the stairs like children, taking them two at a time, and raced into their room. The door slammed shut behind them. Narcissa flopped onto the bed, propping herself up on the pillows and ogling the man shamelessly.
“And, Lucius,” cooed Narcissa in a sultry tone. “I expect to see some skin.”
Lucius shrugged off his outer cloak and pressed the button. “Yes, MA’AM.”
I’m too sexy for my love, too sexy for my love…