Summer before Harry, Ron, and Hermione's Final Year at Hogwarts

Summer was nearly over, and our trio was enjoying its remainder at the Granger home. The house had been carefully warded against malevolent forces by a visiting Professor McGonagall, so the muggle abode was deemed safe for our heroes to spend their last few summer days.

They’d spent the afternoon playing and splashing in the community pool, and were now relaxing in front of the fabulous muggle contraption referred to by Ron as the “FellyTision” and by the others as the “TeeVee”. After a couple hours of watching Harry’s choice, the animated butt-whooping “Dragonball Z”, Hermione finally rebelled.

“Now that our brain cells have sufficiently atrophied from that incomprehensible fist-fest, it’s my turn to select a programme.” She grabbed the remote from Harry’s chair-arm and began pressing buttons firmly.

“Wonder what she’ll choose,” hypothesized Ron. “Probably something thoroughly practical and educational.”

“And thoroughly boring!” added Harry. The boys laughed together under Hermione’s withering stare.

“Just because I choose to entertain myself in a useful manner does not give you the right to tease me in my own house! This is my favorite new programme; if you let me watch it in peace, you can watch all the cartoons you want for the rest of the evening.” The TV had settled itself on an American station called simply, “Bravo.” Marvelous thing, the satellite.

“Shhh now, it’s starting!”

Harry and Ron did their best to curb their amusement as the show’s credits and opening music filled the room.

“Queer Eye for the Straight Guy?” groaned Ron, bewildered. “What on Earth is a Queer Eye?”

Harry snickered at Ron’s ineptitude with muggle slang. “Queer Eye is what Crabbe gives Goyle in the locker room after Quidditch practice, if you know what I mean.”

“Will you two hush!” Hermione’s annoyance was clear.

Ron and Harry settled down as best they could and began to watch as the show’s main characters, the “Fab 5” were introduced. As he watched, understanding slowly filled Ron’s eyes.

“Hermione, is this a show about poufs? Are you trying to tell us something?” Ron received a slap for his impertinence.

Their attention turned to the telly as it was explained that the Fab 5 had made it their mission to improve the lives of their heterosexual brethren by helping them to improve their appearance, comportment, and sense of style in ways foreign to most straight men.

“See, Ron, if you pay attention here, you might learn something useful,” shot Hermione as Jai, the ‘Culture Vulture’ gave this episode’s beneficiary advice on how to ask the girl he’d been eying out on a date. Ron, in return, blushed redder than his hair and threw a pillow at her.

“Maybe we should write the Fab 5 and see if they’d be willing to take on Ron then.” Harry joked a few minutes later as Carson, the ‘Fashion Savant’ assisted the man select a new wardrobe.

“Why me?” asked Ron in bewilderment. “The only reason I dress the way I do is I’m at the mercy of Mum’s knitting. If I had any sort of bank balance I’m sure I’d dress much nicer, thank you very much.”

The trio hushed quickly as Kyan, the ‘Grooming Guru’, began pulling out bottles and lotions. “Just swish a tablespoon of this around in your mouth for thirty seconds, and your teeth will be as white as a polar bear’s behind,” Kyan was saying to his victim. “And lather this in your hair after every shampoo and your oily hair will be a thing of the past!”

“Snape could use some of those,” called out Ron as he pointed to the screen. “With white teeth and greaseless hair, I probably wouldn’t recognize him!”

Harry nearly spit out the cola he was drinking. “Can you imagine what Snape would do to these guys if they started messing with his hair?”

The boys bantered back and forth about scenarios involving Snape performing nasty hexes on the Fab 5 as they attempted to replace his cape with a feather boa. Hermione pondered silently, then commented, “We’d never get him to agree to be on the show though. I think the show requires the participants be willing.”

“He’d listen to Dumbledore though,” Ron became caught up in the idea. “If we could get Dumbledore in on the joke, that is.”

Hermione frowned, “Professor Dumbledore has more important things to do than browbeat Professor Snape into participating in a game show.”

“But what if there were some incentive for him to agree? What if someone were to make an anonymous donation to the school, on condition that Snape agree to be on the show?” Harry hypothesized. “A second Quidditch field, perhaps?”

“Wow, Harry, that would be excellent! But who could donate that much money?” Harry glared at him. “Sorry, forgot for a moment that you’re loaded.”

“There’s still one small problem,” interjected Hermione. The boys turned to look at her questioningly. “We have to get the Fab 5 to agree to take on Snape.”

“Oh, if they see him, they’ll agree all right,” answered Ron. “A challenge that big only comes along once in a lifetime.”

“Yes, but they have to see him first. However, I seriously doubt that Snape will sit still for a photo shoot, and we’ll need some muggle photos to send in.”

Harry’s eyes lit up as he exclaimed, “That’s perfect!”

The others looked at him in confusion.

“Think. Who do we know who practically has a muggle camera grafted onto his arm?” Harry rolled his eyes at their blank expressions. “Someone who is bound to have taken a shot of Snape at sometime in the last five years?”

They finally got the hint. “Colin Creevey!” Ron and Hermione answered simultaneously.

“We’ll send him an owl to see if he can send us a picture or two of Snape,” said Harry.

“You’d better be the one to send it, Harry. Then we know he’ll surrender it gladly!” chuckled Hermione, happy to get a joke in at his expense for once.

“Right. And once we have the picture, Hermione can write a sappy, sad letter to the Fab 5 about how our dear, beloved Professor Snape is madly in need of a makeover so he can attract the attention of his heart’s desire,” Harry concluded dramatically.

“Who is Snape’s ‘heart’s desire’?” asked Ron. “Poor woman she’d be.”

“It doesn’t matter,” replied Hermione. “That’s just to get them to agree. They won’t be able to resist!”

And so the plan was set in motion.

Harry dispatched a pleading owl to Colin Creevey, requesting pictures of Snape for a secret yearbook project and promising that if Colin were to send some, Harry would agree to autograph one of his own pictures for Colin. (Colin had been pestering Harry to do just that since he first came to Hogwarts five years before). Sure enough, the next day the owl returned bearing a small envelope containing a note and several pictures.

“Dear Harry,

I only have a few pictures of Professor Snape, for some reason he gets very angry when I try to take one and has confiscated most of the ones I’ve snapped. A couple of these are from the Gryffindor-Slytherin quidditch match, but there is a pretty good one that I caught when he was taking points from the Weasley twins in the hallway during my third year.

Have fun with the yearbook project and let me know if you need pictures of anyone else.

Your friend,
Colin Creevey

P.S. See you on the Hogwarts Express, I’ll bring some pictures for you to sign for me!”

Hermione began right away composing the most tearful, heartfelt letter she could to the Fab 5, begging them to take on Severus Snape for one of their next season’s episodes:

“Dear Jai, Carson, Kyan, Thom, and Ted,

I’m writing to implore you to consider helping out our poor Chemistry teacher, Mr. Snape, on your show. I’ve watched every episode of “Queer Eye” and am amazed by what you’ve been able to accomplish, but none of those fellows needed your help half as bad as poor Mr. Snape does.

Mr. Snape is an unmarried gentleman of a little under two score years. His unfortunate physical appearance and lack of social graces have left him without the confidence needed to attract the woman his heart desires. His mood is suffering horribly, and the despair and loneliness in his eyes is heartbreaking. I just know that the five of you could transform him into a debonair charmer who could win his true love’s affections.

I’ve enclosed a photograph of Mr. Snape for your perusal. Please note the tormented expression on his face as well as the issues he has with personal grooming. His outfit is indicative of his normal attire; he’s never worn anything much different.

Please, Fab Five, you’re his only hope.

Sincerely and Best Wishes,

Hermione Granger

P.S. Please do not let Mr. Snape know who submitted this request, as it would embarrass him terribly.

P.P.S. Ted: Would you be so good as to send me the recipe for the Quadruple Chocolate Mousse Pudding you made for Kyle M. last week, it looks simply divine!”

Hermione debated long and hard whether to sign her name to the request or to send it anonymously. She finally decided to sign it, fearing the Fab Five would reject an unsigned request. In any case, they’d have to find her to work out the details anyway, so she used her parents’ address, knowing they would forward all her mail by owl to Hogwarts.

She reread the letter several times to make sure it had the right edge of despair without being overdone. She knew for this to work Hogwarts would have to be passed off as a muggle school, and so calling Snape the Chemistry teacher seemed the most direct analog.

She laughed to herself when she looked again at the picture she’d selected to send along with the letter. It was perfect. Snape’s hair was clumping together in greasy stringlets, a testament to his coiffure problems. His brow was furrowed and his expression fatigued, as if he’d just witnessed yet another Potter accolade from Professor Dumbledore. Instead of looking angry the way he usually did, he looked beaten down and somewhat depressed. His crooked, yellow teeth peeked out from between his lips, and the collar of his ubiquitous black cape was frayed, a sure sign it had outlived its usefulness. If one didn’t know him, they’d feel quite sorry for him, to be sure.

She folded her letter, tucked the photograph carefully inside, and placed it in a padded envelope she’d gotten from the muggle post office. After adding several stamps and addressing it with the contact info posted on the internet (another muggle wonder that Ron couldn’t comprehend), she dropped it in the post office box.

---

The trio soon returned to Hogwarts for their seventh and final year. Harry graciously granted Colin his autographs, and then life at Hogwarts returned to its usual pace. Hermione was enrolled in more classes than was healthy for two students, while Harry and Ron focused their studies more carefully. Harry enrolled in all the requirements necessary to join the Aurory, while Ron pursued the course of study required for a career in curse breaking, like his brother Bill before him. They were reunited with their old friends, including Neville Longbottom (who had become quite a talented herbology student), Seamus Finnegan (still woefully undecided), and Dean Thomas (who spent more time with his girlfriend Ginny Weasley than actually studying). Harry was captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, and kept the team on a rigorous schedule that would have made Oliver Wood proud.

Harry and Hermione were the only seventh year Gryffindors enrolled in Potions; Harry since the class was required for the Aurory and Hermione because, well, she was Hermione. The first few days of Potions the two of them grinned to themselves, thinking about the letter they’d sent and the possibility of the Fab Five coming to Hogwarts, but after awhile it slipped their minds, and they’d all but written it off as just a funny idea.

Until one day in November when an owl brought a muggle letter and dropped it in Hermione’s lap.

“Dear Miss Granger,

We have reviewed your letter and materials regarding your Chemistry teacher, Mr. Snape. At first, we wondered if it were a joke; Mr. Snape looked to be dressed up for a Halloween party rather than for teaching school. But then we remembered that you were in England, and things are a bit different there. Certainly Mr. Snape is in dire need of our special talents and, although we are uncertain we can do everything necessary in the space of an hour television show, with the wonders of editing I’m certain we can condense it all into a spectacular program.

We would like to film the second week of January. Please return more specific location information, along with a signed release from Mr. Snape agreeing to participate, to the address below.

Tootles,
The Fab Five

P.S. from Ted: I’ve enclosed the recipe you’ve requested, along with another recipe for berry and cheese tarts that I think you also might like.”

Hermione squealed with delight as she read the letters contents, then raced out to the Quidditch field to find Harry and Ron to share the good news.

“Part A successful, time for Part B!” exclaimed Hermione. “Time for the mysterious benefactor to step in and make Professor Dumbledore an offer he can’t refuse!”

---

“Incompetent nitwits!” Professor Severus Snape was grading papers in the solitude of his dungeon late one evening. “Just once I’d like a student to actually think about what they are writing, instead of just regurgitating the textbook like a sickly parrot.”

“Ah, Severus…I’m glad I found you in.” With a whoosh, the face of Professor Dumbledore appeared in the fireplace across from Professor Snape’s desk. “Could I trouble you to come up to my office for a few moments, I’ve an important matter to discuss.”

“Why can we not discuss it via Floo?” grumbled Severus. “I just changed into my slippers.”

“This matter requires your presence, I’m afraid, Severus. I’ve got Winky making biscuits to sweeten the deal for you,” said Dumbledore with a twinkle in his eye.

“I hate biscuits,” muttered Severus under his breath. “Yes, Headmaster. I’ll be there shortly.”

Snape replaced his comfy slippers with his everyday boots and made his way up to Dumbledore’s tower office and recited the password, “Peppermint Stick!” The gargoyle guarding the door winked at him as the door opened and the spiral staircase leading up to the Headmaster’s office was revealed. “Why does it always have to be candy,” muttered Snape as he trudged up the stairs.

Professor Dumbledore was seated at his desk, waiting. “Thank you for coming up so late, Severus. Please, have a cookie.”

Snape shook his head and tiredly said, “What did you need to speak to me about, Albus.”

The headmaster sighed. “I’ve just received an offer, Severus. An offer that is very difficult to refuse. I’ve spent the last several hours trying to justify refusing it, in fact. And I’ve failed miserably.” Dumbledore shook his head sadly.

“What does this have to do with me?” queried Snape silkily.

“Everything, Severus, it has everything to do with you. I think perhaps the best thing would be for you to read the offer yourself. It explains the quandary most effectively.” Dumbledore picked up a small scroll that had been sitting on the table and handed it across to Snape, who sat down to read it.

“Dear Professor Dumbledore,

As a former Hogwarts student I have fond memories of my school days. Life was so much simpler then, when all one had to worry about were O.W.L.s and whether Ravenclaw would win the House Cup.

But I digress. I have recently come into a large sum of money, larger in fact than I can justify keeping all to myself. Thus, I am in the process of divesting much of it to my favorite causes. Hogwarts came to mind.

My memories of Hogwarts are not all pleasant; one person in fact remains in my mind as a black spot upon my days there. Professor Snape. I wish no harm on Professor Snape; in my growing wisdom I’ve realized that there is probably a good reason for him being the unpleasant, greasy git that he is, and that he is a creature to be pitied, not scorned. Thus, I shall take this opportunity to try to do two good deeds for the children of Hogwarts present and future.

I will grant to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry funds sufficient to build a second Quidditch field on one condition; that Professor Snape submit to a total makeover, courtesy of the muggle television show “Queer Eye for the Straight Guy.” The miracle workers on that show have promised to improve Snape both in appearance and in character, in such a way as to increase his chances for personal happiness etc. Perhaps their ministrations will make him a more pleasant person as well.

I’ve attached a release form for Professor Snape to sign as well as a legal document delineating the terms of my donation for both he and yourself to sign. You will notice that I prefer to keep my anonymity; it would not do to have all my acquaintances learn of my recent windfall.

My owl has instructions to await your answer, please know she is very partial to strawberries and likes being petted behind her ear.

Sincerely Yours,

A.F.S. (Anonymous Former Student)”

Snape looked up from the scroll at Professor Dumbledore in disbelief. “Surely you can’t be serious about this. It’s an outrage! I have no need of a ‘makeover’.”

Dumbledore replied sadly, “Ah, but we do have need of a second Quidditch field. You’ve seen for yourself the squabbles that arise when the House teams fight over the best practice times. Your own House has complained the loudest on this matter. Consider them before you reject this notion outright.”

“Am I to understand that I have a choice about this matter then?” Snape asked sarcastically.

“We always have choices, Severus. However, I should make the ramifications of your choice clear before you decide.”

Severus knew he was in trouble.

“If you should agree to these terms, I will more carefully consider your next application for the Defense Against the Dark Arts position. Additionally, I will approve a sabbatical for you that lies across the second and third week of February, which will naturally require that you be absent from the Valentine’s Day Ball. However,” Dumbledore took a deep breath at this point. “should you refuse these terms, I’m afraid yourself the chief organizer of this year’s Valentine’s Day Ball, along with Madame Hooch of course.”

Severus gasped in horror. Madame Hooch was a nightmare in social situations; she’d tormented him for years with her impertinent tendency to insist on dancing with him. Several times each ball!

On the other hand, the punishment of refusing wasn’t nearly so bad as the rewards for accepting were enticing. Dumbledore certainly had sweetened the pot, offering both the DADA position as well as a Get-Out-Of-Ball-Free card (to warp the muggle expression). How bad could a makeover be, anyway?

“I see I have no choice but to accept then, Albus, as you well know. Give me the damned release paper.” Dumbledore handed Snape the paper and a quill. Snape thrust it back at Dumbledore after signing his name quickly and then snapped, “Am I excused now, sir?”

“Certainly, Severus. I do hope you sleep well this evening, you look overly tired. Oh, and Severus? I’ll have the details of your appointment for you shortly.”

Snape nodded and stormed out the door, down the stairs, and back to the comfort of his dungeon.

“I do hope my letter was convincing enough,” worried Hermione to her friends as they ate their lunch. “I tried to leave ‘clues’ to the ‘Anonymous Former Student’’s identity that would point away from us. With luck, Professor Dumbledore is wondering which former Ravenclaw recently inherited a fortune!”

Ron snickered, “I’m just glad you were able to keep the phrase ‘greasy git’ intact. Since everyone calls him that, I don’t think it will be all that suspicious.”

“I just hope that a second Quidditch field is enough incentive for Professor Dumbledore to encourage Snape to cooperate,” sighed Harry. “I’d have offered more, but I can’t give up ALL my savings.” He noticed Ron, who had no savings at all, glaring at him. “Sorry, Ron.”

“Look, there’s Professor Snape!” whispered Hermione. “He looks awfully angry.”

Snape had just stormed into the Great Hall and taken his usual seat at the end of the head table. He answered Professor Sinestra’s greeting with a scowl.

“I don’t know, Hermione,” said Ron doubtfully. “He looks the same as always to me. I can’t tell whether he’s angrier than usual.”

“We’ll just have to wait for Professor Dumbledore’s owl,” reasoned Hermione. “I somehow doubt Professor Snape will mention the subject, after all.”

Thus, the three students went about their business until the next morning, when Hermione received the long awaited response. She pulled Ron and Harry aside in the Gryffindor Common Room and began to read:

“Dear A.F.S.,

On behalf of all the students of Hogwarts, I’d like to thank you for your generous offer. A second Quidditch field would be a welcome addition to our facilities, and thus we happily accept your terms.

Enclosed is the signed release form indicating Professor Snape’s willingness to participate in the proposed television programme. We must insist, however, on certain conditions designed to shield the muggles involved from undue exposure to the magical nature of our school and grounds. Thus, we require that the muggles be escorted by a Hogwarts professor at all times, and that filming be limited to the North gardens, the potions dungeon, and Professor Snape’s private quarters.

Assuming that our counter-conditions are satisfactory to you, we will await the arrival of the visitors at the location described below at 11 in the morning on January 14th.

We thank you again for your generous donation to the school.

Sincerely Yours,

Albus Dumbledore
Headmaster, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry”

When she was done reading, she flipped through the pages of the message and saw that Snape had, indeed, signed the release form, although with an angrier hand than his normally rigid penmanship. Another sheet contained a small map and instructions to the cottage where the “visitors” (as Professor Dumbledore called them) would be staying. The directions were conveniently given in Muggle terms, Hermione noted with approval, so the Fab Five should have no difficulty in locating it.

“This is splendid,” exclaimed Ron. “Professor Dumbledore actually got Snape to agree! I wonder how he managed it.”

“He probably threatened to hold you two back a year,” Hermione joked. “It’s not like you actually ever study, so it’s a plausible threat.”

“Have your laugh out our expense then, I’m just picturing old Snape’s face when Kyan tries to give him personal grooming tips.” Ron closed his eyes, a contented smile on his face. “Oh yes, just like that.”

“I can’t wait to see that myself,” added Harry. “But we’ve got two months to go!”

So our heroes had ample opportunity to exercise their patience skills as the term progressed. They studied, played Quidditch, and served several detentions with Professor Snape until the Christmas holidays, when Hermione went home and Harry and Ron went to the Burrow. And then it was time to return to school, and soon the Big Day came.

---

“I don’t see why I have to go meet them at the station, Albus. Why can’t we leave that task to Pomona Sprout or one of the other, more outgoing, faculty members? I agreed to participate in their little makeover, and I will do so, but I see no need to act as the school liaison.” Snape was standing in front of Professor Dumbledore’s desk, arms akimbo, leaning down to face the Headmaster, who was reclining comfortably with his feet on the desk.

“Come now, Severus, you brave Lord Voldemort on a regular basis. Surely you aren’t afraid of being alone with a dozen muggles?” Professor Dumbledore was not easily intimidated, especially not by the overdramatic scowls of Severus Snape.

Snape’s eyes narrowed in anger, “Afraid? Of course I’m not afraid. I just have better things to do with my day than to play chaperone to a pack of American muggles.”

“Now, Severus, that won’t do at all. This whole thing will go much more smoothly if you take it with good grace.”

“Sorry, Albus, but good grace wasn’t in the contract. I double-checked,” sneered Severus, “all that is required of me is that I submit to their ‘makeover’ and allow the images of said makeover to be used on their silly programme. It nowhere says that I must be pleasant.”

Professor Dumbledore shook his head sadly, “You never do make it easy on yourself, Severus. Would you prefer I send Sibyll along with you? She has such a way with strangers. Or perhaps one of the muggle-born students, like Miss Granger? I’m sure she’s quite capable of muggle social discourse, and would charm them quite nicely, however as she is still a student I couldn’t possibly send her alone.”

Eyes widened in horror, Snape snapped, “Definitely not. Sibyll would be predicting their deaths within minutes and as for Miss Granger,” he sneered, “I see more of her than I would like as it is. If I must go, I’ll bring Hagrid along. I’m sure he’ll be happy enough to engage in enough pleasantries for the both of us.”

“Very well,” Dumbledore nodded. “I’ll speak to him about it at dinner this evening. You two will need to make an early start, since you’ll be using muggle transportation.”

“Muggle transportation? How so?”

“Our visitors will staying the night tonight in Farsgrove, which as you know is the closest muggle town to Hogwarts. You’ll need to meet them there and bring them here in a way that won’t seem unduly strange to them. Thus, you will be traveling in a muggle vehicle known as a bus.”

“A bus. Not the Knight bus, surely?” Snape was a little confused.

“Not exactly, but quite similar. I’ve hired a driver so you shan’t need to worry about how to operate it. The bus will be waiting outside the castle for you after breakfast; it will take you to the cottage in Farsgrove where our visitors are staying. All you’ll need to do is see to it that everyone arrives at Hogwarts safely. We’ll have lunch ready for when you arrive, at which time our visitors will discuss their plans with you, and then the filming will commence.”

Snape scowled. “So be it. Just remember I expect you to uphold your end of this bargain.”

“Of course, Severus. Let us be off for dinner. I believe the House Elves are preparing bubble and squeak this evening, one of my favorites.” Dumbledore rose and motioned for Snape to lead the way.

“Everything is one of his favorites…” Snape mumbled under his breath as he left the room.

---

“G’Morning, Perfessor Snape!” Snape saw Hagrid waving his great hand in his direction. Always cheery, that one was. “Beautiful morning for a drive, don’t ye think?”

“Breathtaking,” answered Snape sardonically as he walked up to his giant colleague. “Has our bus arrived?”

“Yessir, it’s waiting for us out front. I was just coming to find ye.” Snape cringed as Hagrid clapped him on the back enthusiastically. “So who are these muggles we’ve been sent to fetch. All Perfessor Dumbledore told me was that they were friends a’ yers.”

Snape shook his head, “Not friends, merely temporary acquaintances. I doubt they’ll stay long.”

The two headed out the front gates of the castle to find a large white muggle bus waiting. Its engine was running, and its driver was standing beside its open back door.

“Hop right in, Professors, that’s the way.” Snape looked appraisingly at the driver. He was a portly man of about his own age, with shaggy brown hair, buck teeth, and a somewhat familiar look about him.

“Have we met, driver?” Snape asked.

“Shouldn’t think so, Professor. I hail from Kent, and rarely come this far north. It’s rare that Hogwarts requires a muggle driver, after all.”

“You’re a muggle, then?” This concerned Snape, since muggles theoretically were unable to find Hogwarts without assistance.

“That’s right, as non-magical as they come. But my best childhood friend is a wizard, and I’ve got a cousin who is a witch. So I know a fair bit about the wizarding world, which has proved useful in cases where a ‘liaison’ is necessary,” the driver explained jovially.

“I see.” Well, not really, thought Snape, but he saw as much as he cared to. He climbed into the bus and took a seat a couple rows back. “Shall we go, then?”

“Right away, Professor.” The driver closed the door behind Snape, and then went around to the right side of the bus to hop in the driver’s seat. Hagrid had already made himself comfortable in the front passenger seat, and began quizzing the driver about the many buttons on the panel between them.

Snape ignored the discussion in the front seat and stared out the window as the bus bumped and grinded down the road. He envisioned with dread the coming days, wondering what horrors these muggles would conjure up in an attempt to better his appearance. Hopefully I won’t end up looking too much like Gilderoy Lockhart, he thought. Lucky for me, I doubt there is much chance of that.

After what was really only about a half hour but seemed thrice that to Snape, the bus arrived in the village of Farsgrove. Although Farsgrove was not a large village, it was most certainly a muggle one. Cars lined all the streets, many of the shops had signs lit with pink glowing letters, advertising unfamiliar products called "computers" and "wireless internet". The few people walking the street were obviously muggles, not a robe or a wand in sight.

The bus serpentined through the village and stopped in front of a large cottage whose sign proclaimed it "Crossings Inn". "Here we are, Professors," announced the driver, whose name he'd told Hagrid was Horace. "You'd best go collect them, I'll see to it their belongings are loaded into the boot."

Snape reluctantly dragged himself out of the bus and followed the obviously excited Hagrid into the Inn. The pair of them approached the counter where a pretty young girl not much older than the seventh years was standing and talking into a curvy plastic object which Snape knew from his limited muggle knowledge was a telephone. The girl covered one end of the telephone with her hand and whispered, "I'll be right with you," before continuing to converse with the telephone for several minutes. Hagrid tried to make small talk, but Snape wasn't in the mood to hear it and gave the girl one of his famous "I am not amused" stares. The look obviously worked on muggles as well as young witches and wizards because the girl quickly ended her conversation and turned her attention to the unusual pair standing before her.

"We're here to collect, er." Hagrid pulled a scroll from one enormous pocket and read "the television crew from the Queer Eye for the Straight Guy programme."

"Ah. Them," the girl wrinkled her nose in displeasure. "Mighty bizarre lot they are too, with their fancy clothes and their American ways. My sister took a fancy to one of them, but he was having none of that, and my sister is a right looker!" The girl took a breath and was about to continue, until Snape cut her off.

"Thank you for that enlightening pontification of their character. Now would you be so good as to fetch them straight away?"

With a glare, the girl picked up the telephone again, punched some buttons, and after a few moments said, "Sir, two . gentlemen . have come to collect your party." She listened for a moment more, and then put the telephone down.

"They'll be down shortly. Please, make yourselves comfortable," she motioned to a smallish two person chaise at the other end of the room. Hagrid walked right over to it and sat, filling both seats with his wide girth. He looked up at Snape with chagrin, and tried scooting over to make room, but Snape just shook his head and walked over to the window.

They heard voices approaching from down the hall, speaking animatedly with their grating American accents. "You really should have come with us, Thom," Severus heard one say, "You would have just died looking at their wallpaper."

"Kind of like they had the cat puke on it every few inches or so," another interjected. "And the food validated everything we've heard about the English breakfast." Snape heard what sounded like a man gagging.

And then they appeared. There were five of them; a couple tall, one quite short, all of them dressed quite freakishly. Most were wearing brightly colored tops of various colours; one in fact seemed to have accidentally put a second shirt on over the first. Or perhaps he simply couldn't decide between them, Snape thought. Two wore trousers (which were much too form- fitting for Snape's liking) seemed to be made of leather, while several wore what Snape knew were muggle blue jeans. The lone blond was wearing a ridiculous red scarf (why did it have to be red?) over a bright white shirt and jeans that looked as if Fluffy had used them for a chew toy. The short one, who looked awfully girly to Snape's eyes, wore a glittery gold shirt carefully tucked into his leather trousers and sported a shiny matching gold watch. The bespectacled one was the most unobtrusive of the bunch, wearing a plain (though still much too brightly colored) sky blue shirt and jeans. The other Mr. Leather wore ridiculous boots and his loud orange shirt was in serious need of buttoning. The last wore a ridiculous striped shirt under his jacket, and worse yet, jeans that had apparently been coloured by schoolchildren.

Snape felt a wave of dread encompass him as he imagined what horrors these five had planned for him.

The visitors, it seemed, were as horrified by he and Hagrid as he was by them. When they'd entered the room they'd stopped dead in their tracks. Each one's eyes flitted back and forth between himself and Hagrid, no doubt contemplating their error in making the trip out.

The short, girly man was the first to recover. He walked right up to Snape and extended a hand. "You must be Mr. Snape, you look just like your picture. I'm Jai. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Snape ignored the extended hand and looked down at Jai with a sneer. "Professor Snape. And the pleasure is all yours."

Jai raised his eyebrows and responded, nonplussed, "Well, I can see that I'll have a lot of work to do, in any case." He then walked over to Hagrid and introduced himself. Hagrid, as was his way, was friendlier, and engulfed Jai's tiny hand in his own, shaking it enthusiastically.

"That one knows how to give a handshake, eh Jai?" Mr. Colouring Book Jeans called out, seeing Jai's involuntary wince. "I'd say that one was definitely granite!"

Mr. Scarf was looking at Hagrid like a kid in a candy store. He nudged Mr. Leather and whispered "Say, Kyan, do you think our schedule would allow for a two-fer? I'd sure like to have a go at Hagrid here as well."

Kyan was nodding, "I know exactly what you mean, Carson. Just imagine what he'd look like with a good shave." Luckily, Hagrid's attention was focused on Jai, as he would have been seriously distressed at the idea of a shave. "I'll talk to scheduling and see what we can do. If he's willing of course."

As Snape was about to insist they all depart, the bespectacled one approached him, though thankfully did not attempt to shake hands. "Hi, Professor Snape. I'm Ted, the show's food and wine connoisseur. I can see you're a bit nervous, but really we're all quite harmless. Do you, by chance, like to cook?"

Snape eyed him quizzically, "Cook? We have house elves for that."

Ted laughed heartily as if Snape had told a great joke. "Is that what you call them here? How adorable. But no matter, I'll have you whipping up a feast in no time. There's nothing to it."

Snape smirked, considering the irony of this man reassuring him about a process which was essentially similar to potion making. "Indeed."

He looked beyond Ted to the rest of the motley crew and in his best teachers voice loudly said "If there is no objection we should be heading over to the school now." Without waiting for a response, Snape turned on his heels and headed back to the bus. Horace and a couple of muggles were loading crates and funny looking gadgets into the bus.

"Just a few more minutes and we'll be set to go," reassured Horace. "You might as well hop in."

Snape made his way toward the back of the bus, hoping to avoid unnecessary conversation with the odd visitors. He soon realized his tactical error in entering the bus first; the five strangers followed him to the back and took seats around him, surrounding him completely. He was trapped.

"It's so wonderful to finally meet you, Mr. Snape. Do you mind if I call you Severus?" the blond one called Carson did not wait for Snape's response. "When we got your student's letter, our hearts just broke! You've got a real friend in one of your students, Severus."

"Do I?" Snape responded sardonically. Horace had hopped into the driver's seat and the bus began to move.

"You have no idea!" Carson continued, "It almost brought me to tears, her talking about her favorite teacher Mr. Snape, and how if he just had some self-confidence, he could win the woman he loved. Look at me, I get teary just thinking about it." Ted pulled a dark blue handkerchief from his shirt pocket and handed it to him. Carson was about to wipe his eyes, then looked at Ted in annoyance. "Now look what you've done, you'll never get it to sit straight again." His attention left Snape as he fussed with the handkerchief, trying to stuff it back into Ted's pocket without wrinkling it.

Snape used this brief respite to ponder Carson's words. So "Anonymous Former Student" was a female. Interesting. He already knew she was a Ravenclaw, from her commentary in the offer letter. So who was she? He remembered all of his students, much as he would like to forget, and began mentally shuffling the names of those who were Ravenclaw females. Elizabeth Knight, Raleigh Davis, and Olanthe Brookshire graduated last year. All quite unremarkable. Lilac Brown, Estelle Chance, Olive MacDonald, and Cecily DuMonde the year before.Miss DuMonde was a possibility, he knew her family was quite wealthy and she had more cheek than other Ravenclaws. Anita Plath.

Snape realized he was being addressed again. This time it was Mr. Leather (what kind of a name was 'Kyan' anyway?), who was staring rather oddly at his hair.

"Tell me, Severus, what brand of conditioner do you use?"

Snape was unfamiliar with that term. "What brand of what?"

"Oh dear, how about shampoo then?" Kyan asked, raising his hands in a questioning gesture.

Snape merely returned his gaze, stonefaced.

Kyan sighed, "You do wash your hair, don't you?"

Snape's eyes narrowed as he answered defensively, "I'm not a cave troll, Mr. Kyan, of course I wash my hair." His eyes widened mysteriously as he said, "I even use soap."

Kyan emitted a small groan, sounding to Snape rather like a small rodent, although Snape had no idea what had upset him so.

Jai jumped in to save the conversation, "So Severus, tell us a little about yourself. All we really know is that you're a chemistry teacher who really likes wearing black. What are some of your hobbies?"

"Hobbies?" Snape repeated. He didn't have time for hobbies.

"Sure, hobbies. What do you do for fun?"

Snape thought for a moment. In reality, he enjoyed reading and listening to music. Something kept him from sharing this though. "Give detention."

The men all started laughing, reminding Snape of third-year Hufflepuff girls. "You're just hilarious, Severus. And you pull off the deadpan perfectly," said Thom through his giggles.

"What's a deadpan?" Hagrid asked. The men laughed even harder.

"You two should be in Vegas," gasped Carson. "The giant and the vampire, live at the Luxor." There was a pregnant pause; Hagrid stared down at his feet, biting his lower lip. Snape glared angrily at Carson, who couldn't help but notice he'd said something wrong. "Just making a joke, guys. No offense intended."

Hagrid in particular was a bit subdued after that, Snape noticed. He'd sat quietly for the rest of the ride, while Snape tolerated the inane conversation and questioning from the visitors by answering as succinctly as possible.

And soon they arrived at Hogwarts front gate. The visitors piled out of the bus as soon as it stopped. Snape stood to follow them, but stopped next to Hagrid, who'd made no move to rise. "They're just muggles, Hagrid. They know not what they said."

Hagrid sniffled a little in response.

"I assure you, Hagrid, they just think you're rather tall is all. They don't know about your .situation." Snape hesitated a moment then put his hand on Hagrid's shoulder. "Come on, now. Help me keep these Americans out of trouble."

Hagrid wiped his eyes, then followed Snape out of the bus.

The Fab 5 and their crew were rendered speechless by their first sight of Hogwarts in all its splendor. That speechlessness lasted about three seconds. Although Thom settled for emitting a series of delighted monosyllables, the others were far more verbose.

“That’s a SCHOOL?” Kyan gasped.

“School, schmool,” gushed Carson. “That castle looks straight out of Disneyland!”

Ted’s observations were a little more down to Earth. “Can you imagine the kitchen that place must have? And the wine cellar must be out of this world!”

Jai ran a hand in front of Thom’s eyes, attempting to bring him back to reality.

Snape watched their display in amusement for a few moments, then broke the mood. “If you are all done gaping, we might proceed to lunch. This way.”

Snape strode purposefully through the gates and around towards the entrance to the castle. Hagrid kept to the rear, encouraging the gawking stragglers to keep the pace, reminding them “there’ll be plen’y eh time fer lookin’ about the place later” much in the same way he handled the new first years each fall as they emerged from the Hogwarts Express. Snape navigated the corridors, ignoring the bewildered looks of the students they passed as they traveled up the stairs to the Great Hall.

“Now sirs, might I remind you that this is a school, and proper behavior will be expected from each of you whenever students are present. We have prepared a table for your. . . group. . . and would please ask that should you need to leave the table, you ask myself or Hagrid to accompany you. Hogwarts is a very . . . large school, and we would hate for any of you to become lost. Or worse.” As Snape finished his lecture, he noticed the Americans eying him oddly, as if surprised by his manner, though they nodded their acceptance.

“Whatever you say, Mr. Snape, excuse me, Professor Snape.” Jai responded tactfully, but after Snape turned to enter the Great Hall he shot his cohorts a rebellious look. They followed Snape into the hall, eagerly awaiting sight of more of the fabulous school.

It was a total secret that Snape and Hagrid had left to collect some American muggles, so naturally the whole school knew about it. Our famous trio in particular made sure to arrive at lunch especially early to catch the first glimpse of the Fab 5 live and in person, as did many of the other students.

The Fab 5’s first glimpse of the Great Hall was accompanied by gasps of delight all around. (Though Professor Dumbledore had shown the foresight to redirect the House Ghosts’ presence elsewhere for the duration of the meal, the sight was still a wonder to behold.) Four long rows of tables held scores of students uniformly dressed in black robes, but segregated by the colors in their ties. At the front of the room elevated on a dias was the faculty table, and a more unusual assortment of teachers the Five had never seen. Professor Snape and Hagrid were not the only odd ones in this bunch; a skeletal woman with very large glasses in a gauzy shawl caught their attention, as did a jolly looking and very elderly dwarf.

“Good heavens, it’s Merlin himself!” Carson whispered loudly to one of his companions. Professor Dumbledore was standing at his place in the center of the faculty table and preparing to welcome the visitors. Unfortunately for Carson, his age did not curse him with poor hearing.

“Actually, Merlin’s great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-“ Dumbledore paused for a breath “great-great-grandnephew. But thank you anyway!”

“The students and faculty of Hogwarts would like to welcome some special guests from America this afternoon,” the headmaster continued regally. “Professor Snape will be assisting them with a special project and they shall be staying with us for the next two days. Please make our visitors welcome and try to avoid bombarding them with unnecessary questions. Rest assured that if any student efforts are necessary to complete the project, the student in question will be notified immediately. Gentlemen, welcome to Hogwarts!”

Applause filled the room, as did some frantic whispering originating from the few muggle-born students who recognized the visitors. Only the members of Slytherin house failed to applaud, instead bestowing upon the visitors the honor of their disdainful glares.

“What’s with the runts at that table?” Carson nodded toward the Slytherin table. “They look like we’ve stolen their girlfriends or something.”

Ted snickered, “Or boyfriends, don’t you mean? If that silver-haired one isn’t playing for our team I’ll drink a six-pack of Coors on the flight home.”

“Blech!” Carson responded with the universal gagging motion, sticking a finger down his throat.

“They are just so adorable,” cooed Jai. “Look at those sweet little faces poking out of their black robes. I don’t remember kids looking so cute when I was in school.”

“Who picked out their colors, though? The ones at that table look like bumblebees, and whoever thought scarlet and gold went well together must have been color blind.” Although Carson was technically the clothes horse, Thom’s eye for interior design was still offended by the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff house colors.

“The blue ones aren’t so bad, Thom.” Kyan rationalized. “Neither are the green ones, except for their weasely expressions of course.”

Then the food began to arrive. Several very young students entered from the back doors, each bearing a tray overloaded with tasty treats and looking very put upon.

“House elves on strike?” One of the third-year Slytherin students asked of a server.

“No, silly, we can’t exactly serve food the normal way with muggles here, now can we? Have no fear, it will be your turn at dinner,” she responded sardonically.

Ted overheard this exchange, but failed to understand the point of it. He made a mental note to himself to ask Jai later if he was familiar with the term “muggle”, then promptly forgot it as he tasted the first heavenly bite of Hogwart’s cuisine. “This is amazing,” he exclaimed. “I must speak to their cook!”

For once the Fab Five was quiet, as they enjoyed their amazing meal. From his seat at the end of the faculty table Severus Snape watched them overindulge in their smorgasbord, pondering what horrors they had in store for him once the meal was over.

---

“I’m absolutely STUFFED!” moaned Kyan. “I just could not get enough of that plum pudding.”

“Do we have to work this afternoon? Right now I totally need a nap!” Thom yawned.

“Or pants with an elastic waistband! I wish they’d warned us, I would have dressed for the occasion,” whined Carson as he unbuttoned the top button of his jeans. “Do not tell anybody I just did that.”

Ted looked at his compatriots, shaking his head, “Excellent as the food was, there was no reason to make gourmands of thyselves. It’s time to brave Severus’ living quarters, so no naps for you!” He stood and motioned delicately towards Severus, who was scowling at the woman next to him at the table. He wondered if their host had noticed him, and if he should call out, but then Severus rose and came toward their table.

“What a lovely meal, Severus, please be sure to present our compliments to the chef. But now we’re all anxious to get started!” The others nodded. “Time for you to introduce us to your living quarters!”

Why was Severus grimacing so, wondered Ted. One might think he wasn’t enjoying this very much.

---

Snape sighed, he was best off getting this whole thing over with. “Very well, follow me. And don’t lag behind.”

He led them quickly through the halls, hoping their speed would prevent the muggles from thinking too carefully about the oddities on the walls (or from noticing that the pictures were watching them pass!) Luckily, the Americans were all in good physical shape and seemed to keep the pace easily. The little one kept attempting to engage him in conversation.

“How long have you been teaching here, Severus?”

Snape did some quick mental arithmetic. “Seventeen years.”

“Wow, that’s a long time!” There was a moment of silence, quickly interrupted. “So what made you decide to become a teacher?”

“Teaching was preferable to prison. Or so I thought at the time.” Snape hoped this response would discourage further questioning. No such luck.

Jai laughed heartily, “That’s hilarious.”

Why did these people insist on thinking he was joking with them? Oh no, now the others were joining the interrogation. Are all Americans this incapable of silence?

“So, Severus, what made you decide on chemistry? It’s a pretty intense subject, after all.” This from Carson the Loud.

Snape let his annoyance shine through, “The subject is called potions. And I enjoy it because it is a delicately precise art, not to mention a solitary one.”

“Control freak. . . confuses science and art. . .likes solitude. . .” Merlin’s teeth, was Thom taking notes? He hated it when his students did that, but he hated this even more. Severus didn’t bother trying to keep from stomping his feet as he led them down the stairs to the dungeon that housed his living quarters.

“We are going to your quarters, right?” Ted tentatively asked as they walked through the dimly lit, dank dungeon corridor. “Not the medieval torture chamber?”

“Of course,” answered Severus smugly. “I prefer to live in the quiet of the dungeon. And here we are.” He stopped in front of a large wooden door, then cursed inwardly. He’d forgotten to leave the door unwarded when he left. He’d need to use his wand to open it, but he couldn’t exactly whip it out in front of a pack of muggles. He stood for a moment, trying to figure out a way out of this mess when he heard a young voice call out from up the corridor.

“Professor Snape!” He turned to find Miss Hermione “Bossy-Boots” Granger scurrying toward him. “Sorry to bother you, Professor. Professor Dumbledore sent me to show your guests to their rooms, he thought it might be best to get them settled in before you start your project.”

She was looking innocently up at him. Too innocently. “Why you, Miss Granger?” Snape failed to notice a shared look between the Americans at the sound of her name as he stared suspiciously at her.

“I am the head girl, Professor. And I probably know a bit more about. . . where our guests come from than most of the other students.” Ah yes, Miss Granger was a muggle-born. And deliberately or not, she’d provided a solution to his dilemma.

“Very well, Miss Granger. Please escort our guests to their rooms and then back here. I’ll expect your return in one half hour. Gentlemen, please accompany Miss Granger.” Five shining faces smiled prettily back at him. These men were bizarre.

“Okay! See you soon, Severus. Huggles!” Ick! That awful man was hugging him! Snape stood stiff with shock, and then the hug was over and the five followed Miss Granger back down the hall.

Once he was sure they were gone, Snape pulled his wand out of his robes, released the wards and entered his quarters. He made straight for the bottle of scotch whiskey that rested innocently next to a stack of clean glasses. Ignoring the glasses, he removed the cork and took a swig straight from the bottle. He had one half hour to himself, then the muggles would invade his home.

“So you’re the mysterious Miss Granger,” whispered Carson once they were out of Snape’s earshot.

“Yes, that’s me! I must say I’m so excited to have you all here. My friends and I have been excited for months! And before I forget, Ted, the berry tarts were absolutely amazing, thank you so much!”

Ted gave a modest smile. “My pleasure.”

“So, Miss Granger,” began Jai.

“Please, call me Hermione,” she interrupted.

“Very well, Hermione. I must say Professor Snape is everything you told us and more. He seems to me a touch. . . oh, how shall I put it. . .”

“Unfriendly?” Kyan.

“Grumpy?” Thom.

“Bitter?” Ted.

“Standoffish?” Carson.

The other four had no trouble finding adjectives appropriate to describe the Potions Master.

“Yes, well,” Hermione prevaricated, “he’s been that way for awhile now. I’m not sure what’s made him that way.” She figured she wasn’t exactly lying. The entire time she’d known Snape qualified as a while, didn’t it?

“Maybe something happened with the woman he loves,” hypothesized Kyan. “The one you mentioned in your letter.”

Carson nodded vigorously. “Woes of the heart can certainly turn a man to ice.”

“Who is the lady of his affections, anyway?” Thom interjected. “One of the other teachers?”

Hermione thought quickly, deciding it was best not to implicate a local. “No, it’s a lady who lives in London. She comes to visit us all occasionally, but hasn’t called on us in awhile.”

“In London? That could be a problem,” grimaced Ted.

“How so?” asked Hermione.

“Weeeellll,” Carson rolled his eyes, “we’re filming here, in the Scottish boondocks. . .no offense intended. . .so if the Lady is in London, how can she be his date for the show tomorrow?”

Jai nodded his agreement. “That does make things a bit tricky.”

“Couldn’t we just skip the date part? Focus on the makeover? I would think with Professor Snape that would fill an hour programme easily.” Hermione was starting to appreciate firsthand the dangers of fibbing.

“No can do, Scooby Doo!” Carson shook his head. “The ratings would just flush down the toilet if we didn’t have a potential love interest in each episode.” He waggled his hips suggestively with the word “love.”

The group was just arriving at the guest suites in the ground floor of the Astronomy tower.

“Well, here we are then.” Hermione opened one door before moving on to the next. “There’s room for four in each suite, I’ll let you decide amongst yourselves who’ll bunk with whom.” She smiled sweetly at them, continuing, “Why don’t you take a few minutes to settle in, and then I’ll see you back to the dungeon so you can get started.”

“I knew it!” shouted Thom. “Those quarters we saw could only have been a dungeon.”

“It’s a figure of speech, Thom, I’m sure.” Jai reassured him. “I’m certain they don’t keep prisoners down there or anything.”

Hermione stifled a snigger, thinking of how most students would prefer accepting a prisoner’s life to attending one of Professor Snape’s lectures. Although she herself enjoyed them, she knew most of her classmates considered them a most singular form of torture. “I’ll just wait outside, but I’ll be back to fetch you in a few minutes.”

Hermione raced around to the other side of the tower where Ron and Harry were anxiously waiting.

“Well?” asked Ron.

“What do they think of Snape?” Harry interrupted.

“One question at a time,” said Hermione. “I’ve only got a few minutes. Mostly they asked why Snape was so unpleasant, and expressed concern about the Dungeon. Oh yes, and they need to find a date for Snape.”

“A date?” exclaimed the boys.

Hermione nodded. “They said the show must end with a date. I suppose I should have expected this, since all their episodes do end in such a way. But that’s no matter now. The problem is, how are we going to find someone willing to go out with Severus Snape?”

“And in less than twenty four hours,” sighed Harry.

Ron groaned, “That’s impossible.”

“We’ll just have to think of something, won’t we? You two start knocking your heads together, I’ve got to take them back to the dungeon to get started on Snape’s quarters. Then Professor Dumbledore wishes to speak with them, but after that I’ll come find you and we’ll discuss your plan.”

“Thank goodness you’re head girl and can keep an eye on them,” said Harry. “Let us know how it goes this afternoon.”

“I will. . .must dash!” Hermione ran off to collect her charges, leaving a despondent Ron and Harry to try to figure out who would be crazy enough to go on a date with the greasy Slytherin git.

---

Thankfully, the Fab Five did not bring up the subject of Snape’s love life on the walk back to the dungeon. They did, however, ask her lots of questions about her Professor’s habits and tastes.

“Hermione, for the show we like to interview our guest’s friends and family. A series of candid comments, if you will.” Jai explained. “Can you suggest some people for us to talk with about Severus?”

Hermione bit her lip, “Well, I don’t think Professor Snape has any family. If he does, he’s never mentioned them and they certainly haven’t visited here. As far as friends go, I think that Professor Dumbledore and Hagrid are closest to him. And perhaps our school nurse, Madame Pomfrey, or Mr. Filch, the caretaker. They all know him best.” Or at least will speak the least evil of him, though Hermione.

“We should talk with some students, too, Jai,” suggested Thom.

Jai agreed, turning to look at Hermione. “That would be spectacular, our viewers would just adore you and your classmates.”

“And we must get at least one group shot of Severus surrounded by his devoted pupils, all smiling up at him. . .” Kyan held his hands out in front of him, as if he were envisioning the picture it would make through the lens of a camera. “The ratings will go through the roof!”

Great, thought Hermione. Now we don’t just need a date for the old grump, but we have to find a group of students willing to pretend they can stand the sight of him. Besides Ron and Harry, who will only agree only because of what I will threaten to do should they not, the only people I can think of who might be willing to play the role are the picture-happy Creevy brothers. Even though Snape is the head of Slytherin house, I can’t see those in-bred wankers allowing themselves be filmed for a muggle TV show.

Hermione shared none of these misgivings. “That’s a wonderful idea,” she gushed.

And then they were back to the dungeon, standing in front of the door to Professor Snape’s quarters. Hermione knocked with a confidence she did not feel. “Professor Snape, are you ready to begin?”

---

The time passed too quickly, thought Snape as he downed one last shot before answering Miss Granger’s knock. “Enter!”

The door opened, and in poured Miss Granger and the gaggle of muggles. Several were carrying contraptions which Snape assumed would be used to film the show. One carried a small box with a light shining out of it that looked like some sort of camera, but Snape hesitated to guess what the remaining equipment was for.

“We’re back!” crooned Carson. “Let’s get down to business. Where’s your closet?” Carson started opening doors and closing them again, searching for Snape’s bedroom. When he found the correct door he passed through it, calling, “Jai, come take a look at this!”

Snape was about to follow in an attempt to prevent the ransacking of his most private room when Thom pulled him aside. “So, Severus, could you please give me a quick tour of the place?”

As Thom began to lead him around, Snape noticed Kyan had found the bathroom and Ted was perusing the contents of his liquor cabinet.

“There’s really not much to tour,” Snape drawled, gesturing at the room around him. “This is my sitting room. This is where I sit.”

He walked toward the door to the bedroom and motioned inside. The men holding the muggle machines followed along. “The room that your friends are so painstakingly ransacking is my bedroom. It is conveniently inhabited by a bed.” He turned to follow Kyan’s path. “And this ever so fascinating room is my bathroom, you’ll find that it is complete with modern plumbing. This concludes the Snape household tour.”

Thom laughed, “If you ever tire of teaching you should really consider a career in tourism. You have quite a knack for this.”

Snape had the distinct impression he was being mocked, but said nothing.

There actually was much more to notice about the rooms, but they would not have occurred to Snape’s untrained eyes. His quarters had lovely hardwood floors, but they were covered by a series of gawd-awful green shag rugs that had been there since the 1970’s. The stone walls were unadorned by art or color, and the only furnishings in the rooms were strictly functional pieces with neither a cohesive style or warmth. Only the multitude of books on the shelves and the abundance of spirits in the cabinet gave any impression about the personality of the room’s occupant. The rooms were very dimly lit, with minimal natural light coming through a slit window near the ceiling and several candelabras providing the remaining illumination.

“You have a good space here, considering this is a dungeon,” Thom started. “But it could use some color and a lot more light. Tell me, Severus, what in this room are you completely attached to.”

Severus was confused. “What do you mean by ‘attached to’?”

“When we redecorate we may want to replace some of these old furnishings. I just want to make sure we keep anything that you’re particularly fond of.” Thom placed his hand on the back of the armchair in front of him.

Severus was torn; he hated the idea of these muggles redecorating his rooms, but in reality he was not particularly enamored of any of its furnishings. “Just leave the books alone.”

Thom clapped his hands together, “No problemo! I’ve already got some ideas, I’ll get to work while you’re out shopping with Carson. Speaking of Carson, I think you’re being paged.”

Carson was wailing from the bedroom, “Severuuuuuus, come on back here!”

Snape reluctantly answered the summons, heading back to his bedroom and nearly tripping over one of the film crew who was struggling to stay behind him. He longed for another drink.

“What do you think you’re doing,” he sneered. Carson and Jai were in the process of happily throwing all his clothes into a pile on the floor.

“Severus, do you order your clothes from a mail order catalog? I swear, you’ve only got one outfit here, it’s just reproduced itself ten times! Every single one of these jackets is cut Exactly. The. Same!” Carson dropped a garment with each emphasized word. “And there are other colors than black, I’ll have to make a point of introducing you to them.”

Carson threw himself on the bed and covered his forehead with the back of his hand, moaning dramatically, “Oh, my darling Severus, we’ve got a lot of work to do here.”

Severus heard a giggle from behind him and whirled around. Miss Granger. He'd forgotten she was still here.

“Get out! Now!” Snape pointed at the door as he snarled at Hermione. The head girl muttered a quick, “I’ll just wait outside,” then hightailed it out the door.

The Fab Five gaped at Snape’s outburst. Jai motioned to the cameraman to stop filming.

“Maybe we should take a break now,” he soothed. “Kyan, why don’t you take Severus out for his facial and massage. Horace can drive you both back into town. Meanwhile, Thom can get started here and the rest of us will work on getting the interviews.”

“What is this ‘facial’?” asked Snape suspiciously.

Kyan put an arm around him as he led him out the front door. “Oh, you’re going to love it. Your skin will never have felt better.” The door snapped quietly shut behind them.

“How do you plan on making this place livable, Thom,” asked Carson. “It’s like a tomb. A disco tomb at that!”

“The rugs will be the first to go, of course. Then we need to bring in some light, I’m thinking track lighting would be good. And we need to replace all the furniture, none of it matches and it looks horribly uncomfortable. I don’t think I’ll paint, since it would be a crime to cover up the lovely stones, but maybe some richly colored tapestries would work.”

Carson nodded, “Velvet. Severus is definitely a velvet man, though I doubt he knows it yet.”

“Well, Sev has a surprisingly good collection of spirits and fine wines. I doubt I could teach him much on that score. But I don’t think he’s ever cooked before, certainly there is no kitchen in these quarters. I’ll have to keep thinking about what he’ll make for dinner.”

Jai clapped his hands, “Ok boys, let’s leave Thom to his cleaning. We’ve got some students to interview!”

Jai, Carson, and Ted bounded out the door, followed by the camera crew. Hermione was leaning against the wall of the corridor, reading a book which was quickly put away as they emerged. “I saw Kyan leave with Snape. Where are you three headed, I know the headmaster wanted to speak with you. . .”

“That would be excellent! He can be our first interview, but then we’ll want to talk to some students,” said Jai.

Hermione shifted uncomfortably then nodded, “Sure, I’ll introduce you around afterwards. This way, please.”

---

“So, gentlemen, what do you think of our humble school?” Professor Dumbledore greeted the three Americans as seated themselves. The gargoyles had been instructed to allow their entrance, however Miss Granger had been dismissed immediately after.

“It’s quite lovely,” answered Jai.

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” Carson chimed in, “it’s way cooler than where I went to school.”

“And has better food, too,” commented Ted.

“Splendid. And what do you think of our ‘chemistry teacher’?”

A short moment of silence followed, then Jai diplomatically stated, “He is certainly unique!”

Professor Dumbledore laughed, “That is a good deal more charitable a description than most give, I’m afraid. Most people think he’s a, how shall I put it, greasy git.”

“Oh, Kyan can take care of the greasy part, no problem!” assured Carson.

“It’s the git part that is more disconcerting,” sighed Ted. “We’re used to a little more enthusiasm from our guest starts.”

The headmaster shook his head sadly. “Be that as it may, I implore you to give poor Severus the benefit of the doubt. He’s had a difficult time recently and unfortunately it’s made him a little difficult to work with.”

“Well, at least one student thinks highly of him,” mentioned Jai.

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow, “Indeed?”

“Yes, the student who requested the makeover. She was particularly concerned for his happiness and wellbeing,” Jai continued.

“And which student was that?” asked the headmaster casually.

Carson was about to speak when Ted smacked him in the arm, saying, “We can’t tell you that, Professor. She particularly requested anonymity.”

“I see,” Dumbledore nodded. “No matter. Now, I believe you wanted to interview some students for the show?” The Americans nodded. “That can be easily arranged.”

As if on cue a knocking sounded. “Enter,” called the headmaster. Two students, a pudgy boy and a blonde girl, entered the office. “Miss Abbott, Mr. Macmillan, thank you for coming. Would the two of you be so kind as to escort our guests around the grounds and help them find students from each House to interview for their project?”

“Of course, Professor Dumbledore, we’re happy to help,” said Ernie. After introductions were effected, the two Hufflepuffs led the Americans down the stairs and out of the Headmaster’s office.

Professor Dumbledore remained stationary in his chair for several minutes, absorbing what he’d learned, and deciding what to do about it.

---

“Ok, queers, it’s time for a conference,” said Ted. He, Jai and Carson had conducted their student interviews and had rejoined Thom in Severus’ quarters. The four made themselves comfortable sitting cross-legged on top of Severus’ bed while the camera crew waited in the living room.

“I think we’ve been had,” he continued.

“What do you mean,” asked Thom.

“We just interviewed a dozen students about Professor Snape, and he’s not exactly Mr. Chips,” said Carson, “he’s more like Public Enemy No. 1.”

“Professor Dumbledore wasn’t kidding when he said people thought Severus was a greasy git,” said Jai, “The kids we talked to all said he was a terrifying bully who enjoyed frightening them and threatening to poison their pets.”

Ted was nodding his agreement, “One poor boy nearly fainted when we tried to question him, Neville I think his name was.”

“One thing is certain,” Jai continued, “and that is Severus is not the helpless, meek fellow that Hermione wrote us about. In fact, from what young Parvati said, Severus hates Hermione and her friends Ron and Harry, and makes it a point to punish them even more than the others.”

“Ah,” said Thom, “so you think this whole thing was a prank.”

“Exactly,” replied Ted. “That explains Severus’ reluctant attitude toward the whole thing.”

“It sounds like he deserves it though, threatening to kill someone’s pet is pretty damned cruel,” reasoned Thom.

Ted narrowed his eyes, “Normally I’d agree with you, but in this case, we were used! We’ve got a show to do, and our producers are spending a lot of money on this. Our jobs could be on the line, you know they weren’t pleased about the extra expense of this ‘on location’ episode. Deserved as it might be, I’m not too happy being a tool for little Hermione’s prank.”

“So what do you suggest we do?” asked Jai. “We still have a show to do.”

“We get even,” replied Ted with a smirk.

---

As he and Kyan headed back to his quarters, Severus rolled his shoulders to try to ease the dull ache that was all that remained of his ‘massage’. The Cruciatus was preferable, he decided, because it did not involve strangers putting their hands on his naked body. He thought back to the “treatments” he’d been subjected to that day. The facial, as Kyan called it, was ridiculous but painless. He felt like an idiot with his face covered in cream, but he admitted to himself (and only to himself) that his skin did feel much softer as a result. He looked down at his hands, trying to get used to the new color the ‘spray-on tan’ had given his body. Luckily muggles knew nothing of Voldemort, so he was able to explain the Dark Mark away as a tattoo acquired in his youth. He was still trying to recover from the mortification though of having to stand nearly naked against a wall while he was hosed down with the “tanning fluid.” Stupid muggles. If he’d wanted a tan he’d have taken a melanin enhancement potion. And the haircut. . . he’d protested that vigorously but had been overruled, and now his hair, though still shoulder-length and wavy, had a more defined, dare he say raffish shape to it.

The door to his quarters was already open. Severus walked in and felt his blood pressure rise. His sitting room was empty, save for his bookcases, his liquor cabinet, and Thom. Thom was in the process of sweeping the floor – with Severus’ prized Firebolt.

“What in blazes do you think you are doing?!” Severus snatched his broom out of the bewildered man’s hands. “This is not a cleaning implement!” He almost pulled his wand out right there to “Scourgify” it, but luckily remembered the company was in and made do with brushing the dust and hairballs off it by hand.

“I just swept that, and now you’re getting the floor dirty again.” protested Thom.

Severus gave him a glare that would have caused a lesser man to wet his pants, then carefully replaced his beloved racing broom back on the hooks that held it, giving it a gentle stroke.

“Now, now, Severus, I’m sure Thom didn’t know that that was a, er, special broom,” soothed Jai. Thom nodded and smiled his apology.

“Thom’ll be taking you to buy you some new furniture later, but we wanted to have a little chat with you first,” said Ted. “Why don’t we all have a seat in the bedroom.”

They all piled into the bedroom, Severus following reluctantly and noting that several someones had been sitting on his bed, and were now restaking out spaces there again.

There was an awkward pause, then Jai spoke. “Severus, why did you agree to be on the show?”

He sneered, “Blackmail, pure and simple. I was offered a choice between two rather unpalatable alternatives, the lesser of which included participating in this farce.”

“Blackmail,” Ted repeated. “Who blackmailed you?”

“Professor Dumbledore did, but it wasn’t his idea. One of my former students took it upon herself to insist upon my participation in exchange for a sizable donation to the school,” Severus spat. “The Headmaster introduced the blackmail to ensure my agreement.”

The Americans looked at each other in bewilderment. “A former student?” asked Jai.

”That confirms my suspicion,” said Ted, nodding sagely.

“Your suspicions about WHAT?” snarled Severus. “Would you mind telling me why you are so curious all of a sudden about my reasons for putting up with this madness?”

Ted reached into his pocket and pulled out an envelope, handing it to Severus. “I think you ought to read this.”

It took less than a minute for Severus to read the letter, his face moving from anger to amazement and back to fury. “Those blasted Gryffindors! It must be Harry bloody Potter’s money paying for the new Quidditch pitch! And the letter they sent to the headmaster, it just stunk of Ron Weasley.”

He started for the door, “I’ll make those three wish they had never been born.”

“Wait a minute,” called Ted.

Severus stopped and looked back, exasperated. “What now?”

“We have a plan.” Over the next several minutes, Ted outlined the Fab Five plan to repay Hermione for her part in the prank.

“You know, Ted,” remarked Severus when Ted finished speaking, “you’d have made a great Slytherin,”

“Thanks, I think. . .” Ted replied.

“Luckily I have a great deal of experience playing a role, or I’d never be able to pull if off convincingly,” Severus commented, “but I must confess this may be the most difficult act I’ve ever done.”

“You can do it!” Carson encouraged. “I just know you can! And we’ll help!” The others all nodded their agreement.

“Well then, let’s get to work.”

“Would you take a look at that?” Lavender Brown elbowed her roommate, who was gossiping with her Ravenclaw sister in her normal Sunday morning fashion. Parvati turned in the direction Lavender indicated, then stopped mid-sentence, her jaw dropping in a most undignified manner.

Padma’s eyes followed those of her sister’s. She opened her mouth as if to speak, then shut it again. On the second try, she came up with the oh-so-quaint, “Are you seeing what I’m seeing?” Pause. “Of course you are, you’re staring and, good heavens, drooling. Parvati?”

“That’s. . . Professor Snape. . .” drooled Parvati. “But it doesn’t LOOK LIKE Professor Snape. . .”

Professor Snape had entered the corridor and struck up a conversation with Professor Flitwick. Snape’s thoroughly cleaned and oil-free hair rested lightly against the silver collar that peeked out from underneath his snazzy emerald green jumper. His light-gray trousers accentuated the length of his legs, which was considerable, but the most amazing sight of all was Snape’s face. It was, indeed, much tanner than normal, but far more remarkable was the smile upon it as he spoke with the charms professor. Flitwick must have said something amusing, because Snape threw back his head and laughed, a silky laugh that sent a tingle down each of the three girls’ spine. After the laugh, Snape’s hair fell perfectly back into place.

“Do you think he’s been hexed or something?” Lavender asked. “I mean, Snape doesn’t laugh.”

“He doesn’t generally wear colors, either,” remarked Padma. “Although he does seem to be wearing Slytherin colors, so that rules out a Gryffindor prank.”

Colin Creevey was passing by with his camera, to catch a shot of the ‘new’ Snape, when he heard the girls hypothesizing. “So, you don’t know then. I thought everyone knew by now. Snape’s had a MAKEOVER.” He then proceeded to explain to the pure-bloods who the Fab Five were and why they’d come to Hogwarts.

“Well, Merlin bless the Fab Five, because the new Snape is HOT!” cooed Lavender.

Parvati nodded enthusiastically, “He can give me detention anytime he wants, as long as he comes looking like THAT.”

Colin snorted, “Oh please, I’m sure he’s still the same greasy git underneath. Good lord, he’s headed this way!”

Sure enough, Snape had bid Flitwick a pleasant “Good Day!” and was now approaching their small huddle. “Good day, Miss Brown, Misses Patil, Mr. Creevey. I trust you are enjoying your morning? It is a splendid morning, is it not?”

The seventh-years looked past their Professor out the window. It was gray and cloudy, as per usual in January. Padma elbowed her sister, who was in danger of drooling again.

“Yes, sir. Quite a lovely day. The weather is just perfect. . .um. . . for wearing such a lovely jumper.” Parvati’s words proved once and for all why she was not in Ravenclaw like her sister, but Professor Snape rewarded her with a smile anyway.

“Thank you, Miss Patil. Five points to Gryffindor for your compliment. Now I’m afraid I must be off, I have someone to thank for their wonderful gift!” He nodded to the students and bounced off down the hall.

“This we have to share,” giggled Lavender, and the three girls raced away, leaving Colin to shake his head in wonder and wish he’d been able to get a picture.

---

Finally, thought Hermione as she entered the library, some time to myself. This had been her first opportunity to study this weekend, what with all the excitement, and she really was looking forward to reading ahead for her Advanced Arithmancy class. She took off her coat, spread it over the back of the chair like a cushion and plopped herself down. Nearly instantly she became engrossed in her reading, and thus she failed to notice the Queer Eye camera crew set up shop across the room. She never noticed that the camera was pointed right at her as she began making notes on her parchment, occasionally stopping to stare blankly skyward as she pondered a difficult section.

Her scholastic reverie continued right up until she was startled by the gently husky beratement of her loathed Potions Master. “Why, Miss Granger, would you waste a perfectly lovely Sunday morning by spending it cooped up in the library?”

Hermione looked up, expecting to be faced with Professor Snape’s sneering mug but instead met the teasing smile of her much-altered instructor.

“I’m sure that Professor Vector wouldn’t begrudge your having some fun on the weekend,” said Professor Snape with a smile as he gently removed the book from her hands and closed it, “especially since she’s mentioned several times that you are months ahead of the class already.”

Hermione’s planned retort died silently unspoken. Snape had just given her a compliment! She’d waited years for him to acknowledge her competence in his class, but apparently all he needed was a haircut and some nicer clothes. She eyed him suspiciously, waiting for the new Snape to dissolve into the old, but he merely continued smiling at her before chiding, “What are you waiting for, Miss Granger? I’ve requested that you take the day off from studying, and you wouldn’t want to disobey your Professor, would you?”

Still a bit shaken by his demeanor, Hermione stood and began packing her bag, “If you insist, Professor.”

“I do,” he replied. “Sundays are for Quidditch and chess, not for libraries and potions dungeons. In fact, I’m going down to the duck pond right now to play with the baby geese. You’re welcome to join me if you’d like.”

She shook her head, somewhat squicked by the suggestion. “No, thank you, sir. I think I’ll just find my friends.”

“As you wish. Good day, Miss Granger.” And then he was off.

Hermione fought to control the very queasy feeling growing in her stomach as she gathered up her belongings and raced back to Gryffindor tower to find Ron and Harry. They’d be very interested to hear this story!

---

“I don’t understand what they’re all going on about,” grumbled Ron. “I mean, so what if Snape found some nice clothes and a tan. Have they forgotten the seven years of Hades that he’s put us through?”

Harry snorted, “I’m sure they haven’t, but they say women go for the ‘bad boys.’ And Snape is certainly *that*.”

The boys and Hermione had just finished a troubling lunch during which they heard no conversations that did not revolve around the “Sexy New Snape.” Harry was becoming quite cross with Ginny, who’d not been able to take her eyes from the snarky Potions Master throughout her meal, and Ron was swearing that Parvati had deliberately hiked up her skirt a little when she walked by the head table to head for the washroom.

“It’s not fair,” whined Ron. “I didn’t have any girls mooning after me when Fred and George bought me those nice dress robes. And I’m not a greasy git.”

Harry agreed. “If I’d known the effect this makeover would have on the female population of Hogwarts, I’d never have gone through with it. What do you think, Hermione?”

Hermione looked up from her soup, “Huh? What? I didn’t hear you.”

“Not you too!” groaned Ron.

“Not me too, what?” challenged Hermione. “You don’t think I’m drooling over Snape too, now do you? You’d better not be!”

Ron stared back at her defiantly, angering Hermione further. “I think I’ve lost my appetite.” Hermione dropped her spoon into her soup and left the Great Hall, again oblivious to the Muggle eyes watching her every move.

---

“I’m happy to play the part in public, as difficult as it is, but please do not expect me to be all bubbles and sunshine behind closed doors,” grimaced Severus after the cameras went off. He, Carson, and Kyan had just spent the better part of three hours in Snape’s quarters working with the tailor on his new “haute couture”. Two hours and forty-three minutes of that time was monopolized by Carson’s conversation.

“That’s fine, Sevvie, now that the camera’s off you can just be who you are!” gushed Carson. “You can ‘Shine like the brightest star!’ No, wait, that’s definitely not you. How about ‘Howl like the lupine wolf!’ or maybe ‘Strike like a bolt of lightning!’ perhaps? I’m not sure but we’ll get it right eventua-”

“Silencio!” Severus had been repeating that word over and over in his head for the past three hours. He didn’t think he’d have the poor judgment to say it in front of these muggles, however, no matter how strong the provocation. Wait a minute, he HADN’T said it. He turned from the still babbling (but silently babbling) Carson to Kyan, who was sliding a wand back down into a hidden pocket in his jeans.

Kyan smiled, “I’ve been wanting to do that for about a year now, but I never had the opportunity. Carson’s a great guy, but sometimes he’s a little much, even for another queer guy.”

“You’re a wizard.” Severus stated.

“Obviously,” grinned Kyan. “and once Carson realizes he can’t hear what we’re saying through his own silent bubble, we’ll probably have to Obliviate him. But it’s worth it.”

“What is a wizard doing posing as a makeover-mongering muggle?” Severus had enough difficulty understanding why some wizards chose to live in the muggle world, but even less to understand why they’d pick a career path such as Kyan’s.

“Well, I don’t know how it is here in the U.K. but in America gay wizards aren’t exactly welcomed with open arms. And aside from that, I never really found a wizarding career that suited me, and of course wizards don’t generally need their hair cut or their nails done, they just ‘swish and flick’ and voila! Present company excepted, of course. So I realized I had more to offer to the muggle community than to the wizarding world.”

The explanation sounded reasonable, but Snape was still curious. “Obviously you haven’t given up magic completely though.”

Kyan laughed, “Of course not! As far as muggle technology has come, wizards have it made when it comes to things like acne removal and hair treatments. You’ll be happy to hear that I’m putting my Potions training to good use with my skin care and hair care product lines, how do you think it is that I’m able to make every ugly face that comes onto our show smooth and shiny?”

Snape grinned to himself, thinking that should Lockhart ever extricate himself from St. Mungo’s he’d be horrified to hear that he’d have steep competition in the personal grooming products industry. He was liking Kyan more and more each minute.

“Of course,” continued Kyan, “I’d appreciate it if you kept my wizarding roots a secret from the others. I’m afraid it might change the group dynamic were it to get out, plus there is that minor detail that none of them believe in magic.”

“My lips are sealed, but might I make a suggestion?” Severus walked over to his closet and retrieved a small box from the top shelf. He handed this to Kyan, who read the label aloud.

“Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes – Silencing Salt-water Taffy” Kyan’s eyebrows lifted expectantly.

“I confiscated these from a student. When Carson gets to be ‘a little much’, offer him one of these. Much less obvious than Silencio and it won’t require an Obliviate’ afterwards.”

Kyan laughed, “Severus Snape, for a grumpy Potions Professor, I think you’re ok. Let’s deal with poor Carson here and then see if we can work some magic on those student interview tapes.”

“Have you heard anything more from the Fab 5,” whispered Harry as Hermione seated herself across from him at the supper table.

She frowned and shook her head. “Not a word, I suppose they’ve been doing just fine on their own.”

“I guess so,” remarked Ron dubiously. “And I suppose they found him Snape date after all, seeing as he’s not here for supper.”

Hermione looked up toward the head table; sure enough, Professor Snape’s seat was conspicuously empty, as was Professor Dumbledore’s. “I wonder where the Headmaster is,” she wondered aloud, “it’s not like him to miss a meal--” The hand that rested on her shoulder halted her words mid-sentence.

“Miss Granger, would you please come with me? I believe you have an engagement this evening, and you will need to prepare yourself immediately.” Professor Dumbledore had apparently approached her from behind, as silently as if he’d apparated (although of course one can’t apparate inside the Hogwarts grounds, as it states on page 723 of Hogwarts – A History.)

Back to the subject at hand, she thought. “An engagement? I don’t understand."

“All will be revealed to you at the proper time, Miss Granger. Now if you’ll bid your friends goodnight, we must be off.” Professor Dumbledore’s tone was kindly but firm. Hermione looked across at Harry, who was shrugging his shoulders in ignorance.

“I guess we’ll see you tomorrow, ‘Mione. You can tell us what this is all about then.” Harry’s curiosity was unmatched by his hunger, as he promptly set to work on his roast mutton.

Hermione rose with a sigh, “Right then, we’ll talk tomorrow.” Ron waved goodbye, as his mouth was also already filled with food. I’m glad my adventures aren’t interfering with their dinner, she thought with a mental sneer worthy of the potions master as she followed the Headmaster out of the Hall.

“What is this about, sir?” Hermione asked again as they traversed the halls and headed up a large, winding staircase. “And why all the secrecy?”

Professor Dumbledore said nothing, merely smiled serenely as he led her to a door.

“The room of requirement,” asked Hermione in confusion. “But I don’t require anything right now!”

“That, Miss Granger, is a matter of perspective,” her companion replied. “Inside this room you will find what you need for your evening ahead. Once you have utilized the contents appropriately, come out again and I will deliver you to your engagement.”

Hermione opened the large door and stepped inside. Her eyes widened at the sight – she no longer cared what her engagement was, rather was very focused on the attire that she apparently required for the occasion.

---

“Good lord, will she never return,” groaned Ron. “I can only beat you at Wizard’s Chess so many times before strangling myself from boredom.”

His friend glared back at him, “Well, next time we’ll just have to play one-on-one Quidditch, and THEN we’ll see who’s bored.”

Ron smiled uneasily, “Well, perhaps I spoke too harshly. What I meant to say was, next time we decide to wait up all night for Hermione we should make sure to have some Butterbeer and girls to keep us company.”

“What am I, chopped liver?” asked his sister, who was curled up in an armchair reading a book.

Harry quickly interjected, “Of course not, Ginny, although I hardly think you’re Ron’s type.” Brother and sister both shuddered at that thought.

A creaking sound filled the air. Three sets of eyes turned toward the entrance to the common room. Hermione crept in, obviously trying to be quiet, before she noticed that she already had company. After one look at the three expectant faces watching her, her gaze dropped to the floor and she made to rush towards the stairs to the girl’s dormitory.

“Hermione, what’s wrong,” asked Ron. “You look terrible!”

Ginny threw her book at her brother, “Hardly. Hermione looks lovely, that is an absolutely fabulous dress! But you do look upset.” The tear-stained cheeks that Hermione was attempting unsuccessfully to hide were the first clue. “Where did you go tonight?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Hermione snapped as she strode for the stairs.

Harry raced to block her retreat, looking at her with concern. “Not so fast, ‘Mione. You’re not hurt, are you?”

“I’m not hurt, I just wish we’d never written the Fab Five.” And with that, she ducked under Harry’s outstretched arms and raced up the stairs to the solace of her single room.

---

The next morning, Hermione was as taciturn as she’d been when she’d returned from her ‘engagement’. No amount of prodding, cajolement, or even threats from Ron and Harry induced her to speak of her ordeal. She refused to go to breakfast, insisting that she had work to do in the library.

“Hermione?” Hermione looked up from her book. Harry stood beside her with a hesitant expression on his face.

“I told you, I don’t want to talk about it.”

“It’s not that,” he assured her, “I wanted to let you know that Professor Dumbledore announced at breakfast that there would be a special assembly at lunch, and that attendance is mandatory.”

Hermione grunted her acknowledgement and returned her attention to the book. Harry took the hint and left her to own company.

---

“Thank you for your cooperation in attending this special assembly,” announced Professor Dumbledore from the podium in the Great Hall. “As you all know, we have had several guests here at Hogwarts these past few days working on a special project. I’m sure you’ve also noticed certain. . .changes that have manifested themselves during this time.” His gaze rested briefly on Snape as he spoke the word ‘changes’.

“I’m certain you’ll all be happy to hear that the project has been concluded, most successfully.” Some murmurs rumbled through the hall. “Our guests are most anxious to share with you the fruit of their labor. Now, without any further ado, the Fab Five will present ‘Queer Eye for the Straight Guy, with special guest star Severus Snape!”

Applause racked the Great Hall as the lights were dimmed, with several notable exceptions. Malfoy and his cohorts sat sullen and cross-armed at their table, looking as if their mommies had refused them dessert. At the Gryffindor table, all were applauding save the three who had taken the trouble to arrange the endeavor. Harry sat stonefaced, while Ron pouted and Hermione looked greener than a pile of troll bogeys.

If the Fab Five noticed this curious lack of excitement from Hermione and her friends, they did not acknowledge it. They waved from their table and scooted their chairs around to sit in a horseshoe facing the large screen that had been erected at the front of the room. The professors sat in a row facing the makeshift theater, and the man of the hour, Professor Snape, was in the center, wearing a new set of robes and a satisfied smile.

One of the camera crew worked the projector, and soon the show was starting. Many of the students giggled their way through the opening credits and theme song, while those unfamiliar with television gaped in amazement. Soon, however, they were greeted with a more familiar site.



Hermione was sitting in the library, chewing on her lip and writing on a parchment. Her voice echoed through the Hall as she wrote:

“Dear Jai, Carson, Kyan, Thom, and Ted,

I’m writing to implore you to consider helping out my poor Chemistry teacher, Mr. Snape, on your show. I’ve watched every episode of ‘Queer Eye’ and am amazed by what you’ve been able to accomplish, but none of these fellows needed your help half as bad as my dear Mr. Snape."



An audible gasp erupted from the Gryffindor table.



"Mr. Snape is horribly misunderstood, no one else at the school sees him the way I do. They are unable to look past his unfortunate physical appearance to see the shining jewel inside. Mr. Snape is absolutely brilliant, and exceptionally clever and witty, but all people do is make fun of his hair, which admittedly could use some conditioning. I want the rest of my school to see him the way I do so they will come to love him the way I do.

Please, Fab Five, you’re our only hope.

Sincerely and Best Wishes,

Hermione Granger”



Sniggers began rising from all the tables at various points in the dialog – the Ravenclaws were the first to catch on, followed by the malicious Slytherins and then the others. One rather loud “I knew it!” was heard from amongst the faculty, but since the words came from Sibyll Trelawney, no one paid them much mind.



The Fab Five were marching down the steps towards the Potions Dungeon. They knocked on the door to Snape’s quarters, and after a moment were greeted by the shyly smiling face of the Potions Master. He welcomed them in and gave them a tour of the premises.

“Here is my bedroom, admittedly a bit Spartan but I’ve never had the urge for decorating. . . and my sitting room, which is where I sit , really it just houses my large collection of books. I’m afraid I don’t have a kitchen, since I eat in the communal dining hall, but you’ll find my bathroom through that door.” Snape presented the perfect picture of the bashful host. . .

“So, what do you use in your hair,” asked Kyan as he stood in the bathroom with Snape. “You seem to have an issue with texture.”

Snape sighed, “I use Head & Shoulders to keep the flakes away, but I just can’t seem to get rid of the grease. It comes from working in a poorly aired dungeon with chemical fumes all day. Do you have any suggestions?”

“Of course I do! This ‘Smooth as Silk’ hair tonic cuts through grease and forms a protective barrier around the hair shaft so that new grease can’t latch on. Just rub this on, starting in the back, after you shampoo, then dry as normal. I think you’ll see a dramatic reduction in grease content immediately.” . . .

Jai and Snape were sitting together on his couch. “So, Severus, do you like to dance?”

“Actually I love to dance, unfortunately most of what young people do nowadays hardly qualifies as dancing. Maybe I’m old fashioned, but I far prefer the moves of waltz and swing to the arrhythmic shuffling that qualifies today.”

“That’s great, Severus,” replied Jai. “I think for your date we will definitely go to a swing club. It’s a romantic setting and will give you a chance to show what you know.” . . .

“Color is the spice of life,” gushed Carson. “No, wait, I think that was variety. But EITHER WAY you need more color in your wardrobe. Now, I understand that you have a dress code at your school, so I’ve had Tyler the Tailor here whip up some fashionable colored robes.”

Severus stepped out of the dressing room and whirled about, the deep purple of the material shimmering in the light. And a moment later, he stepped out again wearing a fur-lined cape of the deepest green.

“How do you like that?” asked Carson expectantly.

“Very nice. Not too bright, but very comfortable and warm. I’ll take three,” answered Severus matter-of-factly.

Carson shook his head as he held up two other robes. “You can only have one in the green. But you can get one in coffee and one in eggplant instead!” . . .

“Very frightening,” Neville addressed the camera. “Snape always gives me detention, but then again I seem to do everything wrong in his class so maybe I deserve it. And he always wears black. Very creepy.”

“Two words to describe Mr. Snape? Greasy git.” These words of wisdom came from Justin Finch-Fletchley. “You’re not going to show him this, are you?”

“He is our Head of House and is always fair to everyone,” smirked Draco. “In fact, I think he’s the best Head of House Slytherin has ever had. Not one of his students has died in the lab.”

Harry Potter stared solemnly into the camera, “He’s like the father I never had.”



“Wait a minute,” Harry stood up and shouted, “I was talking about Professor Dumbledore!” His shouts were camouflaged by the roars of laughter coming from all over the room. Even Snape himself let out a bit of a chuckle at that one.



“Now, the moment of truth:” said Ted seriously. The Fab Five were walking alongside Severus through the grounds. Snape was sporting his new tan, hairdo, and stylish Slytherin-hued duds. “You’ve wanted to know who asked us to come to Hogwarts, and who your secret admirer is.”

Snape nodded.

“There’s good news and bad news. The bad news is, it is one of your students.”

Severus looked shocked, “One of my STUDENTS likes me enough to invite you all out here? I can’t believe it.”

Ted smiled, “It’s true, Severus. But don’t forget the good news! She is eighteen years old, and we’ve spoken with your Headmaster. He has given his consent for the two of you to go on a date this evening, to show off your new look and show her the town, so to speak.”

“But she is still a student, even if she is of age,” argued Severus. “I’m not sure that’s right.”

Jai patted him on the shoulder, “Now, don’t be nervous, it’s not as if you have to marry the girl. We just think that because she went to so much trouble to show her affection the least you could do is take her out on one teensy-weensy date. And if it goes well, after she graduates, you never know what could happen!”

Snape sighed his defeat, though doubt clouded his eyes. “Very well. I suppose you ought to tell me which student I will be having the honor of escorting.”

Carson began bouncing as he announced, “Hermione Granger! The two of you will have a FAB-TACULAR time tonight!” . . .

. . . “I think you’ll love what we’ve got planned,” said Ted. His cohorts nodded their agreement. “First, we’ve got an excellent table reserved for you at ‘Bellissima’, which is a lovely Italian restaurant in Farsgrove. Their food is superb, and the wine list can’t be beat. Dinner will set the mood, and then you’ll proceed to ‘In the Mood’. . .”

“Which, as it sounds, is a formal Swing club,” explained Jai. “You’ll get the chance to show off your moves on the dance floor. . .”

“Without being surrounded by teenagers. ‘In the Mood’ is a classy club and I’m sure you and Miss Granger will be the toast of the evening,” grinned Kyan.

A light blush crept onto Severus’ cheeks. “It sounds lovely, although I’m still a bit uneasy about your choice of date for me. . .”

Carson threw an arm around Snape’s shoulder and gave it a little squeeze. “Nothing to worry about, just be yourself and everything will fall into place.”



“Be yourself?” whispered Ron to Harry. “There’s been nothing ‘himself’ in this whole show!”

Hermione stared at the screen, a dazed expression filling her features.



“It’s time to get started, Severus. Are you ready?” asked Jai. Snape nodded, and the six men put their hands together in the center of the circle between them. “Let’s do it!”

. . .

The next several minutes of film showed Severus in his quarters preparing for his ‘date’. The view cut to Snape, standing in the shower, washing his hair and singing ‘Ina gada Davita’.



Luckily, the view was quite blurred but several of the male students broke into gagging fits nonetheless. (One notable exception was Draco Malfoy, who stared at the screen in fascination. Noting this, Ted nudged Carson and mouthed something suspiciously like ‘No Coors for me!’)

“Who’d have known he’d be an Iron Butterfly fan?” Justin Finch-Fletchley whispered to Ernie MacMillan. “Almost brings him up a peg in my estimation. Almost.”

“Just check out those biceps,” Parvati poked Lavender. “Who knew those robes were covering such a ‘fabtacular’ body!”

Ron’s gagging noises doubled upon hearing THAT pronouncement.



And then Snape was out of the shower, wearing a toweling robe and spreading some of Kyan’s ‘Smooth As Silk’ cream into his hair, then gently blowing it dry.



“Excellent, he started at the back just like I showed him,” Kyan whispered to Carson, taking a sip of pumpkin juice.

“Let’s see how he does with the wardrobe,” Carson replied. “I laid it all out for him, so he should hopefully get it right.”



Snape walked into his bedroom and looked at the clothes hanging neatly from a hanger attached to his bedpost. A double-breasted tuxedo in classic black, with a white shirt and cravat awaited him. Snape began removing his robe, and then the view moved away from Snape and about the room.



Two communal groans emerged in the Great Hall - disappointed sighs from the ladies and “phew!”s from the gentlemen. Snape himself felt quite grateful that the need to hide the Dark Mark from public view outweighed the Fab 5’s desire for him to bare all for the camera.



When the camera met Snape again, he was buttoning up the formal white tuxedo shirt and attempting to tie his cravat. He reached down to his dresser and extracted a lovely silver and emerald pin, which he poked through the center of the cravat. Next he fastened the cummerbund and pulled on the jacket. The camera moved back to get the full view of Snape standing in all his glory in full formal attire.



“I wish I could have me some of THAT,” sighed Carson, “he is looking so sexy in a Victorian sort of way.”

Kyan laughed softly, “Well, you DID pick the outfit. I must say I’m surprised you went with such formal attire. I mean, there was nothing to tjuzs!”

“Sometimes the desire to tjuzs must give way to the greater good, and Sevvie in that suit is DEFINITELY a greater good!” A large *smack* was heard as Carson blew a kiss toward the screen.



Fully dressed, Severus returned to his sitting room and, after retrieving a small package from the coffee table, exited his quarters. . .

Hermione stood outside the Hogwarts front gate, shivering slightly in the cold. She wore a velvet, fur-lined cape over her dinner clothes, but still felt the chill. Her head turned side to side as she waited anxiously for her date to arrive.

She jumped a little as a hand rested on her shoulder. She turned to face its owner and looked up to see her Potions Master standing in front of her. Her cheeks flooded, either in embarrassment or nervousness.

“This is for you,” he said quietly. He held out a small package.

Hermione swallowed and accepted the gift. “Thank you.” She opened it to find a small corsage, a red rose surrounded by baby’s breath.

“I’ll help you attach it when we arrive,” said Severus, “ It’s much too cold for you to remove your cloak now.”

Hermione nodded, still staring up at her date with reddened cheeks.

“Shall we go?” Severus offered his arm to Hermione, who after a moment clasped it nervously and followed along. He led her to the car, and after opening a rear door and seeing her safely inside, went around to the other side and got in.

Only a few minutes of the drive into Farsgrove were shown. The predominant theme of the drive was Severus sharing a story or asking a question, and Hermione staring back or answering in monosyllables.

“Come now, Hermione, usually you have no lack of words to say, why are you so demure this evening?” Again she looked up at him, saying nothing.

He tried again. “Perhaps it is the subject matter that fails to interest you. I must try harder. Have you read the latest issue of Argules’ Medicinals and Palliatives? There was an article regarding amplification effects in pain-relief potions that I think you’d find very interesting.”

Hermione’s face lit up despite itself as she nodded, “Do you mean the Cloverleigh article? I read it last weekend. I found it fascinating how the author discovered that several particular combinations of herbs had a multiplicative effect when used together as opposed to when used separately. What do you think of her theory about healing of emotional wounds?”

And thus the ice was broken. By the time the car arrived at the restaurant, teacher and pupil were engaged in a friendly scientific debate.

“Here, let me.” Severus helped Hermione out of the car and then reached for her corsage. Hermione slipped the cape off her shoulders to reveal a lovely black dress with a scooped tank neckline. The silk clung to her curves, leaving little to the imagination, and also leaving little room for Severus to pin the flower. He gently reached under the left shoulder strap to pin the corsage just above her left breast. Hermione’s cheeks reddened several more shades under the surprisingly gentle and totally gentlemanly touch of her teacher.

Severus placed his hand gently against the small of her back and nudged her forward. “We should hurry in before you catch a chill.”

The camera followed them as they entered the restaurant. Hermione presented a lovely picture in her clingly black dress, her legs looking anything but childlike in the black heels she wore. Her hair too was far from bushy as the loose curls cascaded across her back, leaving merely a patch of bare skin between the her hair and the low back of her dress.

Severus and Hermione stopped to drink in the surroundings. The room was dimly lit with candles on each table and on the walls. No electric light was used at all. The place was small, only a dozen tables in all, and the Maitre D’ led them to the most secluded of the tables. It sat in a bay alcove, surrounded on three sides by windows that looked out into a dimly lit garden complete with a lily pond and water fountain. Hermione stared out at the view lovingly, until Severus pulled out her chair and motioned for her to be seated. His hand brushed against her back as he scooted her chair in after her, and she shivered.

“You look lovely, by the way,” remarked Severus as he seated himself across from her, then before she had time to fully blush or return the compliment, returned to their previous conversation about the combination of modern quantum mechanical theories with potion-making.

They must have ordered off-camera, for soon the wine and food began arriving. The waiter poured a small amount of the deep, red, wine into a glass for Severus to approve. He expertly swirled the wine then held it up to his nose, inhaling deeply. He nodded to the waiter, who then filled the glass and poured another for his date.

“To knowledge and understanding, and that we may grow in both,” Severus held up his glass toward Hermione.

“To knowledge and understanding,” she repeated, and gently clinked her glass against his before taking a rather large swig of the wine inside.

“Easy, Hermione,” laughed Severus, “the night is young, there will be plenty of time to savor everything on the menu.”

The camera was on Severus, so although it sounded like Hermione responded with a choking noise, the noise could very well have come from elsewhere in the room. If Severus noticed he did not remark upon it, rather returned the conversation to yet another erudite theory.

. . .

“That was delicious, I can’t believe I ate as much as I did!” groaned Hermione as she put her fork down. “As wonderful as the food at school is, they could use some lessons in pasta.”

Severus laughed, “We could request the recipe for the kitchen er- staff."

They laughed together for a moment and then Severus’ face became more serious.

“I know I’ve never said this in class, Hermione, and I’ll deny I ever said it, but it really is a joy having at least one student who really, truly, loves to learn. A student who appreciates the fine art that is potion making. . .”

Hermione’s fingers clutched the napkin in her hand and she looked up at Severus in anticipation.

Severus continued, “Without at least one student like that, I don’t know how I’d go on.” He lifted his glass. “To Neville Longbottom!”

Hermione repeated, “To . . . Neville Longbottom?”



“To Neville Longbottom?” repeated poor Neville, slinking down in his seat.



“. . .and may he continue to be lucky enough not to blow up the one good student I have.”

Severus’ eyes met Hermione’s across the table. For a long moment they were silent, then they both burst out laughing.

Soon, they were interrupted by the waiter, who held on his tray the piece de resistance.

“Dessert, too? I don’t know how I’ll make room,” gasped Hermione.

“I’m sure you’ll be able to find room, don’t even think about claiming that you’re too fat for dessert because I’m sure you know there couldn’t be anything further from the truth.” Severus mock-scowled at her. “Besides, it’s chocolate mousse.”

“Chocolate mousse! My favorite! Well, in that case. . .” The goblets were placed before them and Hermione dug into hers with gusto. Perhaps a little too much gusto.

Severus reached across the table. “Hold still,” he cautioned. Hermione stilled as her teacher gently wiped a drop of chocolate mousse from her nose, causing her breathing to quicken ever so slightly. He eyed his finger a moment before taking it into his mouth and licking the chocolate slowly off.

Hermione’s eyes widened in shock, but Severus merely smiled and said, “We can’t have any of this delectable dessert going to waste, now can we?” before continuing with the previous conversation.

Camera pans back to Hermione, who looked as if she might faint. But in a good way.



“You let him touch your nose?” grimaced Ron.

Harry shivered in revulsion, “I definitely did not need to see that.”

Hermione stared at her shoes.

Severus helped Hermione with her coat as they left the restaurant. Again he took her arm as they walked down the street toward their next destination.

“You enjoy dancing, I trust?” Severus asked his companion.

“I love to dance,” replied Hermione. “Well, not the kind of dancing they do at school so much as REAL dancing, like Salsa or Tango or Swing.”

Severus’ brows raised, “You can Swing?”

“After three summers of dance camp, I’d say I definitely can Swing,” she tossed back.

“Excellent. Then you should enjoy this . . .” He led her to a club door, from which spilled forth lively music. They entered and saw several couples Swinging expertly on the dance floor, while several others sat at cocktail tables enjoying the entertainment.



“When did you have time for dance camp, ‘Mione?” asked Harry in confusion.

She glared back at him, “When you were at the Dursleys and we weren’t hiding from Voldemort, that’s when. No one ever said I had to tell you EVERYTHING about my life!”



“Don’t tell me YOU can dance?” asked Hermione as Severus helped her remove her cloak again. “I wouldn’t have thought you’d be the type.”

“Appearances can be deceiving, Miss Granger,” said Severus as he took her hand and led her onto the floor for the next song.

The camera watched from afar as the two danced. At first it was a little awkward, as the Hermione accustomed herself to the queues that Severus gave for various movements. By the second song however they had adapted to each others styles and were becoming more adventurous. The program was too short to show all of this though, and cut in and out on their movements, but captured most of the essence.

Severus and Hermione were smiling at each other during a particularly lively swing number, their gaze breaking only to twirl and rotate about. The enjoyment on both parts seemed intense and genuine, and they both were laughing as the song ended and Severus walked Hermione over to a table for a short break.



“How very interesting,” whispered Hooch to McGonagall. “If I’d have known he could dance like that I would never have taken no for an answer at last year’s Valentine’s Ball.”

“You DIDN’T take no for an answer, Rolanda, if I recall correctly,” Minerva retorted.



“Would you like a drink,” he asked.

“Just some wine, thank you,” she replied, and watched him depart for the bar. The camera sat on Hermione for a long moment, catching the wistful expression on her face as she watched her enigmatic teacher, who had shown a very different side of himself today.

As Severus was walking back toward her, a striking lady of about thirty caught his arm. She was dressed in a provocatively revealing red dress and heels, her blond hair captured in a stylish up-do. “Sir, my partner turned his ankle and left me here all alone. Might I trouble you for a dance?”

Severus looked blankly past to Hermione sitting at the table watching him. “Of course, just let me deliver this first.” The lady in red followed Severus to the table and smiled saccharinely at Hermione as Severus placed the wine glasses on the table.

“Why don’t you enjoy your wine, I’ll return shortly,” he instructed before taking the lady in red by the arm and leading her off onto the dance floor.

This song was a tango, and a wild one at that. Severus’ partner was as expert as he and the two twirled about the floor as if they’d invented the dance. His gaze lingered on her décolletage as he swooped her backwards, and he had a hungry glint in his eye as they stared each other down and moved in synchronicity.



“You owe me ten galleons, Pomona,” whispered Professor Sinistra to Professor Sprout. “I told you Severus wasn’t gay.”



Hermione watched the entire spectacle, stoically at first, then with a growing look of nausea. Who knew for certain what was going on in her head, but her face spoke volumes, and it spoke of jealousy. It spoke of her wanting to stride out onto the dance floor, land a good solid punch on the whore-in-red, and take her dance partner back.

When the dance was through Severus and the lady in red were walking back towards Hermione when the lady stopped abruptly and pulled him close to her again. She pulled his head close to hers and whispered something in his ear, too softly for Hermione or the camera to hear.

Severus chuckled and gave the woman a squeeze, “Delectable as the offer is, my dear, I’m afraid I must decline. I’m on babysitting duty, you see. Perhaps another time?”



The Great Hall was filled with horrified gasps!



The camera whirled back to Hermione and the horrified look of shock planted on her face. Her eyes welled up with tears as she stood and strode towards the door, head held high. She retrieved her cloak from the attendant and departed.

Then the camera returned to Severus and his dance partner, who had watched Hermione’s departure silently.

“Well, darling,” she said as she drew Severus back onto the dance floor, “so much for babysitting.”



The ending credits rolled and the hum in the Great Hall became a roar as students and faculty alike began discussing the surprise ending of the show. The majority of the discussion seemed to separate into two camps – those who mocked Hermione for having a crush on Snape and those who mocked Hermione for being rejected by Snape. The former were primarily boys who failed to see the appeal of the newly debonair Snape, and the latter were mainly girls convinced that THEY’D be able to hold Snape’s interest better than an aging red-dressed tart.

Hermione herself sat facing her shoes, refusing to respond to Harry and Ron’s repeated attempts to talk to her. She ignored everything as if she were surrounded by a silencing charm.

The Fab Five watched this in satisfaction for a few moments, then rose to depart, waving to all as they left.

“That was perfect!” boasted Ted. “It was an amazing plan just when we intended to make it look like Hermione had a crush on Severus, but can you believe how she played right into our hands?”

Thom laughed, “We owe the boys a bonus for capturing all the perfect moments the way they did.”

“And let’s not forget the bang-up editing job with the student interviews,” mentioned Kyan. “Did you see Harry’s face? ‘I was talking about Professor Dumbledore!’” he mocked.

“And hiring the actress to seduce Sevvie away was a brilliant move, if I do say so myself!” gushed Carson.

Jai, however, seemed a little uncomfortable, “Guys, you don’t perhaps think we were a little too harsh? I mean, you remember how cruel teenagers can be. We’ve opened up a big can o’ humiliation for Hermione.”

The others pondered for a moment, then shook their heads. “Nah,” said Carson. “That’ll teach her never to mess with the Fab Five, ever again.”

“You’ve got me thinking, though,” mentioned Ted, “Severus really seemed to enjoy talking to Hermione throughout dinner. Do you think it was all an act?”

“Ugh,” gagged Carson, “she is WAY too young for him.” Thom nodded his agreement.

“Who knows,” replied Kyan. “It doesn’t really matter. Severus has his new look, we’ve had our revenge, I’d say anything else is just lagniappe.”

“Well done, queers,” they boasted, giving each other the ‘High Five’ as they headed for the car that would begin their journey home.

---

“Hey Hermione, are you going to Hogsmeade this weekend?” asked Parvati.

Before Hermione could answer, Padma cut in, “Of course she is, they couldn’t find a babysitter to leave her behind!”

The girls burst out laughing as they walked away. Hermione felt herself tear up again. It’s been a week already, would she never live this down? Harry and Ron constantly complained about all the attention the ‘new Snape’ was getting, and Hermione continually reminded them that at least they were getting a new Quidditch pitch for their troubles, which usually shut them up. But she was the one bearing the brunt of it all.

Being rejected hurt like hell. Being publicly rejected was even worse. Being publicly rejected by Severus Snape was unthinkable. Hermione berated herself again for her all-around stupidity. She was stupid to have brought the Fab Five here at all, let alone on false pretenses. She was stupider to have thought Snape might actually have enjoyed her company on their ‘date’. And stupidest of all was that she herself had enjoyed it.

Silly little girl, Snape had called her time and time again. Well, she certainly proved it this time. Why she could think for a moment that a man old enough to be her father would ever enjoy her company or find her attractive was beyond her. So what if they shared an interest in potions and learning. So what if they danced well together, ok, better than well together. She, Hermione, was still a kid and Severus, no, Professor Snape, was still a grownup and she was an absolute dunce to have let herself forget it.

And Snape! How dare he lead her on? What right did he have to act all nice and sweet and gentlemanly, wooing me with talk of theoretical magical metaphysics? For seven years he never so much as gave Gryffindor any points for my work in class and then he has the gall to intimate that I’m a ‘joy to teach’?

And what WAS that thing with my nose about anyway? No teacher should ever touch a student that way, I mean, he LICKED his finger after he touched me! Gross!

And the way he danced with me, I mean, come on! He had his hands all over my shoulder blades, and the way he looked at me, totally inappropriate and provocative. Well, maybe not as provocative as the way he looked at that fluffed-up whore but still, he was acting like he enjoyed it! And I was a better dancer than she anyways, at least I didn’t have to shove my knockers in his face to get his attention.

Maybe that’s it, she thought, looking down at her size-B chest. Maybe it’s the knockers. Or lack thereof. She shook her head, pushing the thought away. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was that she had been a fool to let herself fall for a Professor and that she’d deserved everything she got.

Wiping away the last of her tears, Hermione returned to her room. She put the days’ humiliation from her mind and began to read Hogwarts: A History for the 127th time, hoping that she wouldn’t find the Fab Five debacle in its pages.

Hermione had been reading for over an hour when she heard a “tap-tap-tap” at her window. A strange, small, black owl was standing on the windowsill, with a parchment strapped to his leg. Hermione opened the window and the bird bounded in, presenting its leg to her. She gently removed the parchment and made to send the bird on its way, but it refused to leave. She gave it a little push, knocking it on its bird-bum, but it stood up and glared at her.

“For Merlin’s sake,” she muttered as she opened the scroll.

“Dear Miss Granger,

There is an old muggle saying with which I’m sure you are familiar, that reads something like, “This is going to hurt me more than it will hurt you.” While the phrase is most often used before a parent gives a child a much-needed thrashing, I do sense some parallels with our current situation.

Sometimes, in the course of administering a punishment, one goes too far and lives to regret the outcome. Methinks the lesson recently administered to you was unnecessarily harsh. I must myself accept much of the blame for this, and offer my abject apology for my part. Though it will probably be of little consolation, know that it was not my idea, but that of those Muggles who you invited to torment me. Had they been on our side during the War, the Dark Lord surely would have fallen years ago.

Again, I apologize for my role in your present predicament, and hope that you will find it within yourself to forgive me. I have not had such stimulating dinner conversation in many years, as I truthfully said at the time I know so few people who have the thirst for knowledge that we do. I find that I must ask if you would care for a reprise sometime? An afternoon tea, perhaps, away from cameras and mischievous Muggles? I confess I’d rather like to give babysitting a try again.

Yours,

S. Snape”




Authors Note: I find myself torn as to how to end this. I myself enjoy the HG/SS ship but know that there are many who do not. Thus, in an attempt to satisfy all involved, I will allow this story to end in two separate places. One is the section that follows, and the other is the ‘Epilogue’ in the next chapter. If you would like to ignore any possibility or hint of there ever being more than friendship between the Evil Potion Master and his student, take my advice and skip the Epilogue.

End Authors Note.

Ending One:

Hermione sat and stared at the parchment before her. On one hand, she still felt that Professor Snape had cruelly humiliated her, and she was not ready to forgive him that. On the other hand, she felt vindicated that he had, in fact, enjoyed her company. She kept no illusion that he was offering her anything but friendship, he had indicated nothing more and she would not try to read more into his words than what he said. But she too rarely found someone to stimulate her intellectually. Certainly Ron and Harry, though dear friends and by no means stupid, had not the ability (much less the desire) to discuss complex theories with her, and sometimes she really wanted to talk about something more important than Quidditch and well, Quidditch.

Could Snape be leading her on again? Possibly. But she didn’t think so. Cruel as he could be, and was, he could surely see that revenge was being meted out continually with no need of further action from him. He really did sound sorry, if that was possible.

And if he was sorry, thought Hermione wickedly as she began penning her response, he could be sorry a bit longer.

Severus was of several minds as he sat amongst his colleagues watching his revenge unfold. The dominant, self-righteous part of him rejoiced in the glory of success; he heard the amused laughter of the other students, and knew that the guilty parties would suffer from this humiliation for a long time to come.

But, like a devil sitting on his shoulder, other thoughts kept creeping in to disturb his moment of triumph. He watched as he sat across from Hermione at ‘Bellissima’ and saw in both his own eyes and those of his date genuine enjoyment. He’d forgotten for a time why he was with her in the first place, caught up in the pleasure of all-too-rare intellectual stimulation. Hermione wasn’t just book-smart, repeating what she read like a parrot; she could analyze an argument and come to her own conclusions of its validity. Although he hadn’t agreed with everything she’d said, her arguments were well formed and reasonable.

The screen caught his eye as they rose from the table and walked to the door, the camera following from behind. Her black dress clung in all the right places, forming a delightful hourglass shape. . . Severus felt an inexplicable pang of jealousy (of himself?) at the sight of his hand resting against the small of her back. He quickly pushed it away.

Now they were dancing. Severus wasn’t sure he recognized the look in her eyes as they twirled about the floor; her cheeks were flushed, and her expression was exhilarated, but her eyes. . .it can’t truly be. . .affection. . .that I’m seeing? Whatever it was, the Potions Master saw it mirrored in his own expression. He swallowed, uncomfortable with the idea of his emotions being on screen for all to read. With luck they’ll believe it was part of the act, he assured himself.

Severus was embarrassed, despite himself, when the leggy blonde approached him to dance. He’d remembered dropping off the wine at the table and then going off to dance, but once he’d started dancing he had not looked at Hermione until after the dance was over. He’d focused his attention on the woman and the role he’d been prepared to play, that of the aroused male. He could see from the film he’d done the job well. Perhaps too well. The camera filled in the blanks, panning toward Hermione, sitting alone at the table, watching them with a look he’d often seen on little Ginny Weasley’s face. . .jealousy?

Severus had just started reassuring himself that he must be mistaken when the revenge bomb was dropped; he heard the callous words he’d forced himself to say, and felt an uneasy chagrin at the audience’s horrified reaction. He’d been successful; Hermione was humiliated. But again, he saw the camera eye view of her face, which registered a hurt that was all personal and had nothing to do with the coming humiliation of public exposure. Her eyes were those of a woman whose self-image had just taken a horrible beating, whose heart had been severely trampled.

The film ended, and Severus was inundated with attention from his colleagues. McGonagall kicked him in the shin, the wretch, and threatened to transfigure him into an amoeba. Trelawny, Sinistra, and Sprout were making eyes at him, and Hooch was insisting he partner her at the next ball. He smiled at each in turn, save Minerva and her sharp toes, his expression stilling when he caught the knowing eyes of Albus Dumbledore. The old bat was looking at him with that look that says “I know something you don’t know.” Geezer. Severus widened the smile and made his way through the throngs back to his quarters. Somehow, he didn’t much feel like socializing.

---

Well, never let it be said that Severus Snape ever does anything in halves, he thought as he closeted himself in the Potions lab after his last class of the day. He dropped into his desk chair and just sat. Nearly a week had passed since The Show and not ten minutes went by between jokes at Hermione’s expense. Her own classmates ridiculed her, fair-weather friends those Gryffindors are! And when they weren’t mocking her, they were making eyes at him! As if any of those children would be of any interest to him.

Hermione herself said very little. She’d stopped raising her hand in her old eager way, rather spent the entire class staring at her book or into her cauldron. Her eyes didn’t meet his once.

She hadn’t been eating, either. He’d noticed that she’d come to meals either very early or very late, avoiding the rush, and then push her food around for a few minutes before leaving. Minerva had tried to talk to her, but Hermione just brushed her aside and claimed she had to go to the library. Potter and Weasley were too busy complaining about their own insignificant humiliations to notice how badly Hermione had been affected; that was just typical, thought Severus. How could a girl so smart have such rotten taste in friends?

So smart. . .he thought back to their dinner for about the hundredth time. He couldn’t get over how nice it was, and how once they’d really started talking he stopped having to act. He closed his eyes, remembering.

When he’d led her to the dance floor, her hair bounced softly against her back, brushing his fingers like a caress. He’d liked the way she looked and felt in his arms, not too tall, not too short, and pleasingly soft, her bosom drawing his gaze with every bounce (he was a man, after all. . .). He recalled the sight of her removing her cloak the first time, revealing the young woman underneath. Academically speaking he knew her body wasn’t perfect, but it wasn’t the imperfections that were haunting his thoughts. The neckline of that dress should have been illegal, and as for her legs. . . Severus wiped some sweat from his brow. She really is 18, right? Here’s to the advantages of excessive time-turner use. . .as depraved as Severus considered himself to be, a pedophile he was not. There would be nothing untoward about them spending time together. The two of them could talk about all the things that he had no one to talk about with, since no one else really cared about the research he conducted other than to ask “Is it done yet?” And if it happened to evolve into something more, once she was graduated of course, well, that would be a pleasant side benefit. But then he remembered her face, as captured on film, as he made the crack about having to ‘babysit’. This was the image he couldn’t remove from his mind. The image that told him in no uncertain terms that he was the last person she would want to be friends with.

Severus stood and began to pace, fighting the sudden uneasiness that was threatening to overcome him. He knew he was not the nicest of men. Well, that was quite an understatement. But he never actually tried to hurt people. Except Longbottom, but that one was too stupid to live. But not Hermione, he’d only wanted to teach her a lesson about playing him for the fool, he hadn’t meant to cause her pain, just embarrassment.

Well, it was too late now, he told himself. The damage has been done.

You could try to talk to her.

Like she’d listen.

No harm in trying.

What would I say?

Severus sat down again. What could he say to Hermione to try to undo some of the damage? I didn’t mean it? That would be a lie. He did mean it at the time. He just regretted it now that he’d thought things over and realized that he enjoyed being with her and wanted to repeat the experience very much. And he honestly wouldn’t mind holding her delectable body close to his once again either.

So tell her.

Did you miss the part about her not listening?

Ok, so don’t tell her. Wallow in guilt and self pity.

Isn’t there a third option?

Not as long as your conscience plagues you, there isn’t. Cad.

I’m not exactly good at apologizing.

Try.

But I don’t know how!

There’s a first time for everything.

Damn you. . .Severus pulled some parchment from his desk and grabbed a quill. He started to write. . .

“Miss Granger,

Quit pouting and stay after class tomorrow, I have some research to show you.”

Er, no. He crumpled up the sheet and started again.

“Miss Granger,

Words can not express my sorrow at the pain I have caused you, please allow me to make it up to you over dinner next Hogsmeade weekend. . .”

I’m going to throw up now.

Severus growled in frustration as he tore up yet another sheet of parchment. He just wasn’t the beg-for-forgiveness kind of guy, and even if he wrote such tripe Hermione would never believe him. He sat for several minutes, ruining several more pieces of parchment, before he finally smiled in satisfaction and summoned Brutus to deliver the letter, before he lost the courage to do so.

---

“Dear Miss Granger,

There is an old muggle saying with which I’m sure you are familiar, that reads something like, “This is going to hurt me more than it will hurt you.” While the phrase is most often used before a parent gives a child a much-needed thrashing, I do sense some parallels with our current situation.

Sometimes, in the course of administering a punishment, one goes too far and lives to regret the outcome. Methinks the lesson recently administered to you was unnecessarily harsh. I must myself accept much of the blame for this, and offer my abject apology for my part. Though it will probably be of little consolation, know that it was not my idea, but that of those Muggles who you invited to torment me. Had they been on our side during the War, the Dark Lord surely would have fallen years ago.

Again, I apologize for my role in your present predicament, and hope that you will find it within yourself to forgive me. I have not had such stimulating dinner conversation in many years, as I truthfully said at the time I know so few people who have the thirst for knowledge that we do. I find that I must ask if you would care for a reprise sometime? An afternoon tea, perhaps, away from cameras and mischievous Muggles? I confess I’d rather like to give babysitting a try again.

Yours,

S. Snape”


Hermione sat and stared at the parchment before her. On one hand, she still felt that Professor Snape had cruelly humiliated her, and she was not ready to forgive him that. On the other hand, she felt vindicated that he had, in fact, enjoyed her company. Either that or he’s trying to turn the screw inside the wound, in which case I will kill him with my bare hands, she thought.

Could she forgive him? Should she forgive him? Only time would answer either question. Did she want to forgive him? He didn’t deserve it. He was a vindictive slimewad. But she could talk to him, in a way she couldn’t anyone else. The intellectual in her wanted to forgive him so she’d have someone to theorize and talk shop with. And he could dance, really dance. . .that part of her longed for a repeat performance as well. Only her bruised ego held her back. He’d made her feel like a silly little girl, and it would take a lot to make that pain go away.

“I can’t think about this now,” she told herself aloud. She turned to the grumpy little black owl that still stared her down. “I’m afraid you’re in for a bit of a wait.”

And then she got changed and ready for bed.

The next morning, the owl was still there, chewing on the collar of the sweater she’d removed and thrown across her chair.

“Stop that!” she snapped, swatting at the little creature, who squawked at her in disgust.

Hermione grabbed her quill and some parchment, scribbled her answer on it and hurled it at the owl. “Fine, take that to your master.”

---

Severus groaned as he dragged himself out of bed. He’d barely slept, waiting for the tapping at the window that would announce Brutus’ return with Hermione’s answer. Maybe she’d shot the messenger. . .he hoped not, he’d become rather attached to his cranky companion.

He wandered into the bathroom and began brushing his teeth. He opened wide and peered into the mirror. Was it his imagination or were his teeth really getting whiter?

Preparing for the day took twice as long now, since the Muggles had come and introduced him to their wily ways of personal care. He’d tried to go to class without blowing his hair dry several days last week, but found himself not wanting to leave his quarters in such a state. And the “Smooth as Silk” cream really did help, so at least some good came from their visit. Not enough to counter the after-effects of his revenge scheme, but some.

Tap-tap-tap.

It’s about time, thought Severus as he unlatched the window for Brutus to fly through. The owl was carrying the parchment in his teeth, it hadn’t even been strapped to his leg. Not a good sign.

“No deal. The ‘lesson’ was public and thus so must be the ‘reprise.’ Eat crow.”

Eeeh. Not promising, he grimaced. But at least she didn’t kill my bird!

Severus looked at his pocketwatch. Blast it, he didn’t have time to think about this now, or he wouldn’t get his morning coffee. He’d have to wait until his free period to formulate a good response. It would have to be very good, he knew.

---

“Miss Granger, may I speak to you for a moment?”

Hermione had been gathering her things after the day’s Potions class and was about to leave when she heard Snape addressing her. He hadn’t actually spoken to her since The Date.

She waited for the other students to leave, then turned to face him, expression sullen. “Yes, sir?”

Snape pulled a scroll out of his pocket and handed it to her. “I thought I’d spare Brutus the trip.” He nodded to her formally and then departed through the back door into his private lab.

Hermione watched him leave, then unfurled the scroll eagerly.

“Dear Miss Granger,

Please consider following counter-proposal:

Recommend Private Reprise at present because it would cause no further speculation amongst your peers or mine. If said reprise and any subsequent reprisals progress in a Positive Manner, then writer agrees to a Public Display of Reprisal at your graduation celebration. Writer further agrees to eat amount of Crow determined by you, but prefers not to do so in such a way that puts Job and Livelihood in Jeopardy, as this could limit Quality of Future Reprises.

Yours,

S. Snape

PS. Found wool fragments caught in Brutus’ beak. Humbly suggest feeding him chocolate instead, it makes him docile.”

Hermione read and reread the scroll several times. Unless she was mistaken, Snape was showing all the signs of having a sense of humor. How odd. And he’d seemed unfazed by her all-too-hastily written suggestion to eat crow, she’d half expected to receive detention for that comment, deserved though it was.

She read the note again. Was it her imagination or was there an implication in there that if they began seeing each other he could lose his job? There would be no reason for that unless, oh dear, he had some inappropriate ideas in mind for their ‘reprise’. In which case, he actually was giving her a hold over him by wanting to see her in private. If she told the Headmaster, she could get Snape fired.

Hermione grinned. A Gryffindor never turned down a chance to get some good dirt on a Slytherin, especially when the chance for a good debate was on the line. And maybe, if she was very lucky, some quality snogging as well from Hogwarts’ latest heartthrob.

---

When Severus returned to his quarters, Brutus was waiting for him, munching on some chocolate, with a note tied to his leg.

“Your terms are accepted. First Reprisal should take place during my detention with you tomorrow evening. . .”

Detention? Snape puzzled. I haven’t given her detention. He read on, then chuckled in comprehension.

“You git.

Stocking up on Crow for your feast,

H. Granger”



FINIS

---

A/N: Well, that’s all folks! Snape’s last note was influenced by Lady Alice Kyteler’s “Diary of a Provincial Potions Master” – I just found myself using her style and loved it too much to stop. Although it is out of scope for this story, I anticipate that over time Hermione will forgive Severus, although I think he will eat a Whole Lot of Crow at her graduation celebration. Another dance, perhaps? Followed by a mind-blowing snog? I leave it to your imaginations, gentle readers, and thank you for staying with the story to its shippy conclusion.

And before anyone asks (again!), there will NOT be a sequel. I think the future is best left up to the imagination.