How Severus Snape Ended up at Lumos in his Pajamas~*~
When Dumbledore received the disturbing reports of renewed Death Eater activity in the States, he immediately turned to his trusted spy of over twenty years, Severus Snape. Recently acquitted of the former’s murder despite the ministry’s extreme reluctance—even with the testimony of the very much alive victim himself!—Snape wasn’t at all eager to jump back into the espionage game, but Dumbledore managed to persuade him…just as he had always done.
“But, Headmaster, surely you don’t expect them to welcome me back again with open arms? Even the most weak-minded among them will see your sudden resurrection as indisputable evidence of my treachery.”
“Ah, yes, Severus, that does complicate matters a bit, but worry not. I have a plan.”
Snape just barely suppressed a groan. The last time he’d heard the headmaster say that, he’d ended up “murdering” the old man. “I’m all anticipation: what have you come up with? Shall I dress in drag, pretending to be the world’s ugliest woman, and seduce Lucius Malfoy into spilling all his secrets? Perhaps his new American mistress will invite me over for…well, whatever the vulgar Americans serve instead of tea. A beer, perhaps?”
“Now, Severus, there’s no need for sarcasm.”
“Yes, sir,” Snape replied tightly. “Please do continue.”
“Actually a disguise isn’t a bad idea….”
“I’m not dressing up as Neville Longbottom’s grandmother, Dumbledore.”
“No, no, of course not.”
Snape waited impatiently as the old man paused to pop another lemon drop into his mouth, curtly shaking his head when Dumbledore offered him the bowl.
“May I interest you in some tea then?” Dumbledore asked innocently.
“What’s your plan?” Snape countered.
As the headmaster gazed at him with twinkling eyes, Snape nearly fled. It’s not going to be good, he thought.
“Severus, what do you know about the books written by JK Rowling?”
“Aside from the lack of historical accuracy and a distinct bias in favor of the books’ foolhardy protagonist—at my expense, I might add?”
“So you’ve read them?”
“And do you know of the huge culture of Harry Potter enthusiasts that has arisen out of those books and the resultant movies?”
“Don’t even get me started on those movies, Dumbledore. I warn you: you won’t like the results.”
“My dear boy, I’m told that the actor who plays your character is highly respected.”
“In any case, the movies are neither here nor there. What concerns us are the multitude of Harry Potter related conventions currently being held across the globe. Apparently, these fan gatherings have become a front for Death Eater recruitment.”
Snape leaned forward. “What exactly do these ‘fan gatherings’ entail?”
“It’s quite amusing really….”
“Do tell,” came the expected sneer.
“It can vary, of course, but the most delightful aspect is the propensity of the Muggles to costume themselves as characters from the books.”
“Ah, I see. So whom did you have in mind? Shall I parade around in a long, white beard and endeavor to twinkle?”
“I was thinking of something a bit more subtle.”
“I’m not dressing as Harry Potter.”
“I wouldn’t dream of asking you to.”
“Nor Minerva. You already promised that I wouldn’t have to masquerade as a woman.”
“And don’t even mention Hagrid! I couldn’t endure all that hair.”
“I was thinking you might go as yourself.”
Snape’s eyes lit up. “I see. With just a few alterations to make it seem a costume? As if I were just pretending to be me?”
“They’ll be expecting the movie version.”
“Nonsense. You’ve got quite a following in your own right. That is, the literary version of you does.”
“Splendid! I’ll put you in contact with the artist who’s creating your new look.”
“Not to worry. She’ll play your younger version and then retire to your room, pretending to change into you as you are now. She’s even posted pictures of two prosthetic noses on the Internet. She’ll be the perfect cover. Incidentally, how are you at speaking with an Australian accent?”
“The Internet? Australian accent? She?!”
“Uh hmm. Well, we might as well floo her now. I’m sure you’ll get along famously….”
Loath as he was to admit it, Snape found that he enjoyed being an object of adulation. Certainly, he’d been tempted several times to hex the over-zealous Muggles who insisted on having their picture taken with him, but once he grew accustomed to it, he felt rather smug about the whole affair. He’d noticed with an almost overpowering satisfaction that his popularity surpassed that of not only the other “Snapes” but also the various “Malfoys,” professors, students, and—best of all—the multitude of “Harry Potters.”
Quite frankly—whether young or old, fat or thin, ugly or beautiful, male or female—the Muggles loved him!
It took an amazing amount of fortitude on Snape’s part not to let all this attention go to his head.
But no one could accuse Severus Snape of surrendering to his own celebrity. Every moment he wasn’t posing for pictures or signing autographs, Snape scanned the giddy crowds, looking for suspicious activities. If he happened to enjoy the long overdue affection radiating at him from all directions, what of it? Dumbledore had always said he needed to loosen up and enjoy himself a bit more. Snape figured there was no point in disappointing the old man.
Besides, what better disguise could there be? His old comrades would never suspect this tolerant, even fun-loving incarnation of himself of being even remotely related to the ill tempered isolationist they’d all come to fear and loathe.
Consequently, four days into his first convention, Snape found himself in his pajamas in the middle of an American hotel surrounded by a bevy of fawning beauties in various states of undress. Feeling the last of his inhibitions slip away, he rose to greet his admirers and give them the show they’d all come to see.
Another several days later, when the first photographs started surfacing on the Internet, Dumbledore looked at his computer screen and sighed. Then he simply shrugged. Well, I did tell him to throw himself into the part.
Saving one of the better pictures to his desktop, Dumbledore turned off the computer and apparated back to the gates of Hogwarts. Minerva’s going to love this….
Author’s notes: I posted this on my LJ back in 2006 along with the pictorial evidence if you’d like a gander: http://lunafish.livejournal.com/36255.html. The story is dedicated to Lumos!Snape herself, brewingtrouble.