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Snape Speed-Dating

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Old July 27th, 2006, 8:11 am
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Snape Speed-Dating

“Now, Severus, there are a few things we need to go over,” squeaked Professor Flitwick. “If you get any phone numbers from short blondes, you’re to give them to me; and if I meet any tall women with dark, greasy hair and prominent proboscises, I shall give their numbers to you. Agreed? Good, let’s get in there and meet some women!”

“I can hardly wait,” Snape said unblinkingly as he followed Flitwick through the door into the brightly-lit room.

There was almost every type of witch you could imagine there. Short and stout, tall and thin. There were blondes, brunettes, redheads, pink-hairs, green-hairs, short-hairs, long-hairs …but no shoulder-length and greasy black-hairs.

A group of anxious-looking warlocks stood huddled in a corner, muttering to themselves. A few turned every once in awhile to see if they could make eye-contact with a witch. One man made eye-contact with Snape, then began writhing in agony on the floor.

“Come along, Severus; remember, we’re not allowed to use Legilimens here,” sang Flitwick.

They stepped farther into the room, where the saw dozens of tables and empty chairs. The color lilac was draped everywhere. The tablecloths, the banner across the great archway that announced the speed-dating event—even the House-Elves wore lilac-colored pillowcases (and none of them looked very well-pleased.)

“The Master of Ceremonies must like lilac,” Flitwick said conversationally.


“Who’s that hook-nosed guy?” asked a dumpy witch to her friend as Snape passed. “He’s kind of cute.”

“I’m leaving,” said Snape, turning mechanically on his heels.

“No, you’re not,” piped little Flitwick; “I won the bet fair and square. Besides, we made the Unbreakable Vow; if you go you’ll die. Is this really a fate worse than death?”

Snape gave him a stare that told him it was.

“All right, if anything goes wrong, just send up red sparks and I’ll come and rescue you.”

“My hero,” Snape said, sizing up little Flitwick, then the 300-pound witch waving at him.

“Ladies and Warlocks,” said a familiar voice that caused Snape’s head to turn with a snap. A man with wavy golden locks swaggered forward onto a stage up front, his smile so bright and dazzling it could make a bat even blinder. “Welcome to Wizard Weekly’s four-hundredth speed-dating event. I would now like to introduce your Master of Ceremonies for the evening—me.”

“Filius, if you ever wished to perform an unforgivable curse, I beg you would choose this moment,” Snape growled, looking dead ahead at Gilderoy Lockhart.

“You mean kill Lockhart?” asked Flitwick, for he too had recognized the MC’s voice.

“I meant kill me.”

“Oh dear.”

“Ladies, ladies, if you please,” said Lockhart over their applause. He then turned to the wizards standing in the corner. “Never fear, gentlemen. I know that next to me you all may look rather second-rate in the eye of the ladies. But I assure you that I am a happily engaged man.”

There were dozens of sighs and moans coming from every direction.

“You could cut the estrogen with a knife,” Snape sneered.

“Before we dive in to tonight’s activities—”

“Here it comes,” Snape and Flitwick murmured.

“—I’d like you all to take a poll. Who here has read my latest biography, Recovering Me? Show of hands, if you don’t mind.”

All the witches in the room raised their hands immediately. One wizard raised his, but quickly put it down when he noticed all of his peers staring at him.

“I see that the ladies have done their homework,” Lockhart’s merry voice boomed over the giggling. “If you gentlemen had read at least chapter 12 of my book, you’d realize that with the properly-brewed love potion—” He paused and spotted Snape, who clenched his fist over his wand. Lockhart seemed to sense this, for he continued rather quickly. “Any way, here are the rules for this evening. There will be no Legilimens allowed—”

“I told you, Severus,” Flitwick squeaked.

“and all time-turners and love potions will be confiscated. Gentlemen, you may have a seat. Ladies, choose your first partner, then when you hear this—” Lockhart brandished his wand in the air. Nothing happened. He tried again. “When you hear this—this—THIS! I must get this wand replaced; an antique passed down through my family, you know.”

Snape flicked his wand in the air, muttering an incantation under his breath, then the tip of his wand began to whistle. He then flicked it again and it stopped.

“Excellent of you to show us that, Severus. Yes, when you hear the whistle, ladies, rotate to your right. Are there any questions? No? Everyone seated? Good. One, two, three, begin!”

To be continued ....

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Old July 27th, 2006, 1:33 pm
House_Elf_21  Undisclosed.gif House_Elf_21 is offline
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Re: Snape Speed-Dating

“’Ello. Well, aren’t you a sallow bloke,” sputtered the brunette sitting across from Snape. When Snape made no reply, she continued to plough on ahead. “Me name is Nanette Crabbish. I enjoy ’iking, transfiguring, and sun-bathing. Does you sun-bathe, Mister—?”

Snape raised a thin eyebrow. “Does it look like I sun-bathe?” he replied coolly, his thin lips twisted up into a false smile.

For a moment the woman was speechless. “Well, oh, I see. Does you knit, then?” she asked hopefully.

Snape folded his fingers together and leaned across the table. He glared at Nanette for a moment then responded. “Before we get too friendly, Miss Crabbish,” he said, “let me make a few things very clear to you. Firstly, it is 'Professor' or 'sir', not ‘mister’, not ‘chap’, not ‘fellow’, and most certainly not ‘bloke’. Secondly, whether I knit or not is hardly your business.”

“So, you’s afraid of the sun and sharp objects. You’s a vampire then, is ya?” she asked, her interest piqued. “You must be ’orribly terrified of them silver needles. They’d pierce an ’ole righ’ through your ’eart.”

Snape looked at her as she was the most stupid, dullest thing on earth. “Well, well, look who failed Defense Against the Dark Arts. See that mirror just behind me.” She nodded. “See my reflection?”

“Yeah, so?”

Snape closed his eyes and took in a deep breath.

“So, what does you do for a living, Mr. Snape?” Nannette asked, pulling a Drooble from her red cloak pocket. “Mind if I chew?”

“By all means,” Snape replied, watching her jaw work like a mad cow on its cud.

“Does you live in an coffin? Mus’ be dead uncomfortable.” She then blew a large purple bubble and watched with delight as if sailed off into the air.

With a flash Snape’s wand came out and he muttered "Reducto" in a rather bored voice. The bubble burst into billions of sticky pieces, landing onto of the lady’s head and shoulders. He then muttered another incantation, and when the lady went to brush off the pieces, they stuck fast to her hair and clothing.

“What have you done?!” the lady screamed, causing everyone in the room to stop and stare. “Me wig! Me very best wig! You ruined it, you did. It cost me ten Galleons!”

“Is that all?” Snape asked, though clearly did not want an answer.

Nannette was just about to open her mouth to let Snape really have it when he muttered the word “Silencio.” Though the lady tried moving her mouth, no words were coming out. She tried and she tried, stamping her feet until her face turned as red as a boiled crab.

“That’s better. Lockhart, shouldn’t you be whistling right about now?” Snape called out of his shoulder.

“How did you know I was behind—Naughty, naughty. Legilimens. I see,” he laughed heartily, his brilliant teeth flashing dangerously close to Snape’s face. “Yes. As I was about to say, Toolentius Alarminus.” Nothing happened (though some swore they could see lilac hearts floating from the tip of his wand.) “Toolentius Alarminus! Toolen—Oh, I shouldn’t show off. Let’s do this the Muggle way.” Lockhart then pursed his lips together and let out a weak whistle.

“Pity, Miss Crabbish; we were getting along so well,” Snape sighed as the lady stomped away.

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Old July 27th, 2006, 5:56 pm
House_Elf_21  Undisclosed.gif House_Elf_21 is offline
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Re: Snape Speed-Dating

The next woman did not meet with Snape’s pleasure either. She sat there at for at least three minutes, staring at him with her jaw dropped. When she finally gained control of herself, she began blabbering on about the latest hair-care products—with a *hint* *hint* and a *wink* *wink*. “Next,” said Snape in a bored tone before Lockhart had a chance to whistle.

“Oh joy. This looks promising,” Snape muttered to himself as a witch with uncontrollably frizzy white hair walked towards him.

“How do you do?” the witch asked, making a polite curtsey. There was a long, awkward pause.

“Do you want something?” Snape asked her, as she had been there for two minutes staring at the seat in front of her.

“Chivalry is dead,” the lady sighed as she pulled out the seat for herself and sat.

“So are the seventies,” he replied, nodding at her afro.

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that. I am Agrona Feebles …and you might be—?”

His eyes met hers, and narrowed. “Professor Snape.”

“Professor of—?”

Seeing that she was not going to leave him alone, he replied, “I am the Potions Master at Hogwarts. And before you go on with your insipid niceties, let me answer the questions you are just dying to know: No.”

“I see,” Agrona Feebles said, ignoring his rudeness. “And do you, by any chance, know the famous Harry Potter?”

“As much as I care to and much more,” said Snape with a dismissive wave of the hand. “He is one of my students, if you must know. Why?”

There was a slight pause; then the woman became all shy and giggly, much to Snape’s surprise and repulsion. “Do you think,” she tittered from behind her gloved hands, “that you could—No, no, it’s too much to ask. I’m sorry I—”

“Go on.” (“If you dare,” he added in his thoughts.)

“I was just wondering if you could maybe—It’s silly but could you…. What I mean to say is—”

“Get it out already, you silly old bat!” Snape spat.

“Is there any chance that you could introduce me to Harry? I’ve just heard the most wonderful things about him. Young Mr. Potter sounds like a very nice, intelligent boy. I bet he’ll scrape an O.W.L. in your subject.”

“—And China might relocate itself.”

“Naturally. So, do you think—”

“If you want to meet him, madam,” Snape said quite calmly, “I suggest that you turn your wand into a compass; and when the arrow points towards trouble, go in that direction.”

“I don’t understand,” Agrona Feebles replied, blinking at him.

“Potter is one of the most arrogant, thick-headed student ever to walk the halls of Hogwarts.”

“But Witch Weekly says—”

Snape then gave her a smile that was most reptilian and evil that the woman stopped mid-sentence. “Do I look like I read Witch Weekly? Do you see me drooling all over Lockhart over there like a pimply-nosed, star-struck 15-year-old with the rest of you pathetic females? No, you don’t. How, then, could you expect me to sing Potter’s praises when he’s just a snotty little boy? Could my life be that empty and boring?”

“Go take a cold shower!” Agrona Feebles huffed. She turned to leave, but paused and shouted: “On second thought, make that a hot shower: Goodness knows you need one!”

“Hobitgogin?” asked a voice from behind Snape.

“What?” Snape glanced behind him to see Lockhart munching on a handful of savory biscuits.

“How’s it going?” Lockhart choked, his eyes watering; he had swallowed a whole mouthful of mushy crumbs in one gulp. He then looked over at the blank sheet of paper sitting in front of Snape. “Too bad, Severus, really too bad; you couldn’t get any numbers. If only I had been here to guide you. But never fear; there are still plenty of ladies coming.” He winked and flashed his teeth at the rankled professor.

“Oh goody.”

Lockhart secretly stuffed another handful of crackers into his mouth and began munching noisily away. But he soon looked down at his watch and attempted a whistle, blowing crackers all over Snape’s head and robes.

“Sorry, there, Professor; allow me to—”

“No!” Snape yelled and lifted his own wand. “I will hex you to high heaven if you even think of trying to lay wand on me.”

“Right, right,” Lockhart laughed after a moment of terror. “Wouldn’t want to make you look silly in front of everyone, now would I?”

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Old July 28th, 2006, 2:34 am
House_Elf_21  Undisclosed.gif House_Elf_21 is offline
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Re: Snape Speed-Dating

A simple vanishing spell took the crumbs away (and it would have taken Lockhart away, if Snape had had his way.)

“Hello,” breathed a tall bottle-blonde who had just taken the seat opposite Snape. “I’m Sadie, Sadie Hawkins. Would you care to dance?”

Snape looked as though he had just swallowed a handful of vomit-flavored Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans.

“Just a little joke I like to tell to—warm things up.” She then proceeded to tap her long, red nails on the table. Slowly her fingers crept towards him like ten hairy caterpillars, but Snape shooed them away with the tip of his wand. “Tell me something about yourself,” the blonde sighed, stroking her hair.

Snape sat there with his mouth determinedly shut and glared back at her. Perhaps that would frighten her off. It did not. In fact, it had the opposite effect.

“I love the strong, silent types—they’re the deep thinkers. Tell me, what are you thinking?”

“I just wondering about the simpleton that brewed the hair potion you used,” Snape sneered.

“Oh, you like my hair?” she asked, leaning across the table, winking at him furiously.

“Is there something wrong with your vision?”

“What—Oh, that’s me winking. I never was a very good winker.”

“That is not what I meant,” said Snape dryly; “I was referring to your pathetic choice of hair color.”

After a moment’s pause she asked in her breathiest voice yet: “Do you like Piña Coladas ?” She leaned even farther across the table, taking his sinewy fingers into her hands.

“I don’t like where this is going,” he stated firmly, wrenching his fingers free. “For future reference, which I doubt there will be need of: keep your hands off of my person.”

“You’re a feisty one, aren’t you?” she laughed loudly, so loudly that Snape was forced to cover his ears. Once again the entire room was staring in his direction.

Without a second thought, Snape drew out his wand and sent red sparks up into the air. But Flitwick did not come. The blonde was crawling across the table, her nose almost touching his greasy one. He strained backwards in his chair as far as he could without tipping over. “Filius,” Snape sang out dangerously.

“Coming!” snapped a high-pitched voice from across the room.

“What took you so long?” Snape hissed as Flitwick came into view. “And why on earth are you wearing red lipstick?”

Flitwick blushed. Snape rolled his eyes.

“Filius, I suggest you do something quickly before I decide to add Stinksap to your morning pumpkin juice.”

“Right then,” squeaked Flitwick. “Come along, young lady; maybe I could introduce you to Mr. Lockhart? He was a colleague of mine once; I’m sure he’d be more than delighted—”

“Did someone say my name?” asked Lockhart, popping up behind Snape. His lilac cape blew out behind him as he grinned violently (if that is possible).

“Speak of the devil and he shall appear,” Snape murmured. “Miss Hawkins—”

“Sadie,” the blonde corrected him.

Snape’s nostrils flared uncharacteristically like McGonagall’s, and he continued as though he had not been interrupted. “Miss Hawkins was just expressing her interest in discussing your latest book.”

“—And she wanted an autograph,” Flitwick chimed in.

“Well, right this way,” Lockhart chuckled, dragging the woman off of the table. “Which chapter interested you most? UnOblivated, perhaps? Do you have anything for me to sign? I’m afraid that I’m freshly out of photographs. Now, come along, dear; it’s time for the women to rotate anyway.”

“Too bad. I always liked the dark, greasy type,” the blonde sighed, as she tickled Snape’s chin with her false fingernails. Then, much to Snape’s relief, she strolled off.

“How are things going, Severus?” asked Flitwick, grinning sheepishly as he wiped off the lipstick with the back of his sleeve.

“Swimmingly,” Snap growled. “So far I’ve met an idiot, a moron, an imbecile; and now a lewd, idiotic, moronic imbecile.”

“Glad you’re having a good time! I’m off to my date. She’s three five and she is hot, hot, hot!” Then, dancing a little dance, Flitwick made his way across the room just as Lockhart began whistling “Love Potion Number 9.”

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Old July 28th, 2006, 4:56 pm
House_Elf_21  Undisclosed.gif House_Elf_21 is offline
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Re: Snape Speed-Dating

Witch after witch passed through Snape’s station, and Snape had the same luck with each of them. Either they were stupid, batty, girly, ugly, giddy, happy or smiley. (He especially hated the smiley ones.)

One witch, he could have sworn, was under the Imperius Curse—or merely wished to impress him with her vocal/improvisational talent. After a few minutes of interrogating Snape for the most personal information (she only got his name, rank and serial number), she came out with this operatic aria:

“Who is this man with the long, sallow face?
I daresay, ’tis my friend Severus Snape,
With oily black hair all stuck to his pate.
His only companions, potions he makes!”

“‘Brews,’” Snape corrected her, crossing his arms. “And I don’t believe that half of those words truly rhymed.”

This had sent the woman fleeing from the table in tears. A sour smile stole over Snape’s face, in spite of himself.

“I know of a toad named Trevor who would look better in that hat,” he told the next woman who came to his table. He stared up at the towering catastrophe and snorted. “On the other hand, I’d have PETA all over me.”

Flitwick seemed to be having much better luck. Snape looked over his next candidate’s shoulder to see what the man was doing. Much to his annoyance, Flitwick was chatting merrily away, not even looking at the clock, which told Snape it was ten o’clock.

“Ten o’clock and all is well!” the grandfather clock bellowed.

Snape sniffed the air, which was suddenly strongly perfumed with something. “Either someone went extra heavy on the perfume, or someone has just set off a pack of Dungbombs,” he stated, not looking at his new partner.

He then heard a little “Hem, Hem,” which caused his eyes to narrow into tiny slits. Slowly, ever so slowly he looked directly at the woman sitting before him. “Hello, Dolores,” he said, giving a curt nod of the head.

“Always a pleasure, Severus,” she said sweetly, her large eyes blinking innocently.

“Speaking of toads….” Snape said below his breath.

“I beg your pardon? What did you say?”

“Clearly nothing of consequence.” Snape looked over her fluffy, pink robes with the utmost disdain, then over her mousy hair that was tied up in a matching fluffy bow. He leered at her, then extracted a vial from one of his robe pockets, toasted her, then downed a mouthful of some pink liquid.

“Might I ask what you are drinking?”

Snape had been waiting for this. “An anti-nausea elixir.”

Dolores smiled benignly and began making light chit-chat. Snape downed the rest of the potion in one great gulp.

“Well, enough about me and my kittens,” she giggled; “let me hear more about you.”

Snape then began clacking his tongue on the roof of mouth, staring her squarely in the eyes, his eyebrows rising up and down with each “clack.”

“Now, Severus, please—”

Click-clack. Click

“You know how I don’t like—”

clack. Snape stopped, to Dolores’s most apparent relief, then leaned forward and uttered: “Boo.”

Dolores raised her arms to protect herself, screamed, then fled, taking a left as she exited through the door.

“So then the Muggles are right; bats do always exit left out of a cave.”

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Old July 28th, 2006, 11:47 pm
House_Elf_21  Undisclosed.gif House_Elf_21 is offline
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Re: Snape Speed-Dating

Snape sat there with the sulkiest expression he could muster. He looked at the clock again, then at Flitwick, who was sitting up on his table, talking to a tall brunette.

“You would look so cute on my mantel back at home,” Snape heard the brunette say to Flitwick, who tittered.

“Oh stop, you’re embarrassing me.”

Snape reached for his anti-nausea elixir. “Bottoms up.” He then proceeded to drain the few drops that were left in the vial. There was a whistle and then the scraping of many chairs.

“Hitting the Fire Whiskey early, are we, Severus?” laughed Lockhart, taking a seat across from him.

“Mental note to self: never bet on the Chudley Canons,” Snape grumbled.

“Sorry, what was that? I’m afraid I didn’t catch what you just said. Tut tut, we should be working on our vocal projection, now shouldn’t we? If one wants is to become a public figure, one must—”

“Clearly, Lockhart,” Snape cut in, “I wasn’t talking to you, hence my lowered voice. And what exactly do you mean by sitting opposite me? The podium is that way.”

Lockhart chuckled. “Longing for the ladies, are we, Sevie?”

Sevie grimaced.

“Unfortunately, we seem to suddenly find ourselves at least one lady short. So it looks like it’s just us two bachelors—well, I should say bachelor and groom-to-be.” With a grin he pointed to his ring finger. “Yes, the crazy young devil is finally settling down. I can see what you’re thinking ….”

Snape leaned forward. “If you could see what I was thinking,” he replied, “you would be performing Legilimens—an art which, I know for a fact, you have failed miserably at.”

Lockhart’s smile faded for a moment, but soon he burst out laughing and grabbed one of Snape’s hands in his own. “You’re a funny man, Severus; even you must have read chapter 15 of Gadding With Ghouls,” Lockhart laughed loudly, slapping the table with his free hand. It was at that moment, Snape’s hand in Lockhart’s, that the room suddenly grew quiet and all eyes looked that way.

“My hand, Lockhart,” Snape growled, wrenching his hand free from Lockhart’s grip. “Idiot.”

“Tsk tsk, muttering to ourselves again, Severus?” Lockhart scolded him, waving and smiling at those looking on.

Resting his head in his head in his hands, Snape groaned and said, “Lockhart, they’re not staring at you, they’re staring at us.”

“My dear chap, I never knew that you of all people craved the spotlight.” Lockhart continued to wave as one-by-one people turned away.

“Your stupidity is embarrassing me. But let us deviate from the subject; in fact, I would like to see you deviate yourself all the way to the next table where I’m sure some other fine gentleman would love to endure you insupportable insipidness.”

“Clever, always clever; always one with a good joke. Say, there’s something on your shoulder—”

“Touch me,” said Snape in a dangerous tone, “and you will find yourself spending the rest of your life as a lilac.”

“Speaking of lilacs, what do you think of my new cape? Stunning, isn’t it?” Lockhart stood up and twirled around like a model, his cape flying out behind him.

“Somebody Oblivate me.”

“Oh, I can do that easily.” With a flash Lockhart drew out his wand. “Obli—”

“Pretego,” Snape muttered in a bored tone.

The spell backfired and Lockhart jolted backwards. His smile faded once again. He looked around the room as if he had never seen it before. “Who are you?” he asked Snape.

“Julie Andrews,” Snape said calmly, “and the hills are alive—outside, many, many miles away.”

“Right-o,” Lockhart said, and ran from the room singing: “The hills are alive with the sound of music ….”

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Old July 29th, 2006, 3:31 am
House_Elf_21  Undisclosed.gif House_Elf_21 is offline
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Re: Snape Speed-Dating

Along came a lady in a green dress, carrying a red handbag. There was no stuffed vulture on top of her head, but it still had a rather unpleasant effect on Snape.

“Are you a Boggart?” he asked.

“No,” the alarmed lady replied.

“Then who, or what, exactly are you?”

“My name is Hyacinth Bouquet, and I am the winner of Wizard Weekly’s annual Witch Etiquette contest—twenty-two years and running.”

“Excuse me?”

“Elbows off of the table, dear, if you don’t mind.” When he did not budge, the witch pulled out her wand and gave it a swish and flick while speaking an incantation.

But Snape was too quick for her. He pulled out his own wand and silently performed the counter spell.

“Tsk tsk, bad manners; one must always speak the incantation that they are performing. It is not fair, nor polite, to catch another witch or wizard off-guard.”

“—Even if they were at the mercy of a Death-Eater?” Snape inquired.

“Well, I say—”

“—Or a former one, perhaps?”

“Now, now, it is not in good taste to go calling total strangers Death-Eaters.”

“…I wasn’t referring to you,” his icy voice hinted.

“Are you threatening me? Because if you are, sir, you must understand that I do not respond well to threats,” said Miss Bouquet, trying to keep her tone light.

“Nor do I to frumpy little old witches who go about, flaunting what little ‘talent’ they possess. If my only achievement in life were politeness, I would not be going around so brashly boasting about it.” There was a cold silence as Snape’s lips yet again twisted upwards. “Funny,” he said, “I don’t recall the word ‘boasting’ ever accompanying the word ‘politeness’. So, you must be a braggart with no manners, and obviously no brain, if etiquette is the only thing you took the bother to study.”

The ladies face turned a violent shade of red, and her fists clenched over her wand, which she rested on the table. “I see that you are trying to get me to blow up at you, but it’s not working,” she sang out, though her voice was cracking.

“Yes, that is my true ambition in life: to crack the great Witch of Omelet.”


“Really? I thought it was ‘Omelet’ because you are clearly cracked.” It was usually above Snape to resort to puns, but his arsenal was now running low.

“You, horrid, horrid, greasy, ugly man! How dare you say such things to me?! You are by far the rudest person I have ever had the misfortune of meeting,” she ranted, rising to her full height.

“Temper, temper,” Snape scolded her, remaining seated. “Clearly you are not so above us all as you first thought. Notice that I have thus far controlled my rage. I do believe, Miss Bucket, that self-control is the key to good manners.”

With a shaking hand, Hyacinth Bouquet raised her wand and directed it at Snape. “It’s Bouquet!” she screamed, accidentally breaking her wand in two.

“Oh dear; looks like Wizard Weekly’s finest has just lost her title.”

“You’ll—you’ll pay for this!”

“How? Are you going to beat me over the head with those little drumsticks you’re holding?”

“Oh, I’m sure your thick skull could take it.” And with that said, Hyacinth Bouquet turned and marched towards the little witches’ room.

“Clearly the only thing going through that witch’s mind is keeping up appearances. I pity her future husband ….”

Last edited by House_Elf_21; July 29th, 2006 at 4:21 am.
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Old July 29th, 2006, 5:23 pm
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Re: Snape Speed-Dating

Finally, someone took notice of Lockhart’s absence and made casual mention of it. Snape looked around innocently (as innocently as Snape can look), and when all eyes rested on him he simply stated that Lockhart was “off looking in a mirror.” This statement was so characteristic of Lockhart that all shrugged and continued talking.

Snape sat rigidly in his chair, enjoying the lucky break he was getting, when…

“I heard that you were here and I had to come! I am your number one fan!” screamed a young witch dressed entirely in black.

Snape looked at her as she dashed across the room at him, mildly interested—very mildly, mind you. He was silent and waited for her to continue, which he had no doubt in his mind she would.

“I’m a Metamorphmagus! Watch!” The witch then puckered her lips so tightly that her eye bulbs seemed ready to drop out of their sockets. Then, much to Snape’s horror, he was looking back at—himself. “Fifty points from Gryffindor,” the other Snape said in a phony deep voice, then broke out into hysterics.

“You must have been a Hufflepuff,” Snape jeered.

“You will kindly speak only when spoken to—and your fire is up to high. Do you really want your Draught of Peace to turn into a Sniffling Serum?”

“There’s no such thing as a Sniffling—”

“Sixty points from Gryffindor! I will curse you to high heaven if you ever, ever try to correct me again,” the other Snape spat between snickers.

The real Snape, now livid, sent up red sparks with his wand.

Perhaps, having known Snape as long as he had, Flitwick sensed his wrath, for he came hurrying over immediately to see what the problem was. “Anything I can help you with, Sever—” But that is all he managed to get out before spying the Snape double. His feelings were flitting between amusement and terror, when the other Snape addressed him.

“There you are, Filius,” the girl said in her deepest, most sardonic voice. “Would you talk some sense into this boy? He obviously does not appreciate the subtle art that is Potion-brewing.”

This was much too much for Flitwick. He burst out laughing. “Snape, it’s you!” he roared.

“Silence! How dare you laugh at me,” the other Snape snapped, causing Flitwick to clutch to his sides. “Where’s a Gryffindor so I can take points away from them?”

“Stop! Stop! Oh, oh, this is too much! My sides!”

“Kindly assist me in cleaning this dunderhead’s cauldron; apparently he can’t tell the difference between a 180-degree stir and a 181-degree stir.”

“Make it stop, make it stop!” Tears were now rolling down Flitwick’s craggy cheeks as he fell to the floor and began pounding his fists against the wood in fits.

“Pull yourself together, Flitwick; I’m fresh out of calming potions,” said Snape 2.

“That sounds nothing like—” the real Snape began, but was interrupted.

“Seventy points and detention, I think. Look at me storm around like there’s Stinksap under my nose!” The Metamorphmagus then proceeded to storm around the table, her nose stuck up in the air and her cape billowing out behind her.

“That’s exactly how he looks! Oh dear, oh dear. Severus, are you hearing this? Severus?” Flitwick rose when he did not hear a response. He looked around but there was no sign of the real Snape. “Severus?”

“What is it?” spat the girl.

“Not you; I was talking to the real Snape.”

The imposter rolled his—er, her—eyes. “Are you gone mental, man? There is only one Severus Snape, Potions Master.”

“That’s very funny, dear, but I’ve got to find—Ah, there he is!” Flitwick squealed as he spotted a rather dark figure hastening towards the wizards’ lavatory. “Excuse me.” With that said, Flitwick left the Metamorph to her impersonations, which were getting worse by the minute. “Severus?”

“Go away,” growled a voice from the other side of the door.

“Why are you hiding?”

“Why do you think?”

“You’re being a big baby. Come out here before I decide to tell all of the students back at Hogwarts about this.”

There was a pause. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Oh, wouldn’t I?”

Snape seemed to be pondering this for a moment, then there was a little “click” and the door opened. “I’ll come out as long as you—” He stopped in mid-sentence, for he had just spied a greasy-haired, hook-nosed witch emerging from the ladies’ bathroom.

To be continued!

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Old July 30th, 2006, 1:02 am
House_Elf_21  Undisclosed.gif House_Elf_21 is offline
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Re: Snape Speed-Dating

She was a tall, slender witch, with short red hair that looked like it hadn’t been washed in weeks. Behind strands of the greasy locks there peered two dark eyes that soon met Snape’s.

“Well, I’ll just leave you to—er, do whatever it is you do on a date, Snape,” said Flitwick, who turned to walk away. But Snape was standing on the hem of his robe so that he couldn’t budge. “Er, Severus? Would you mind moving your foot? You’re standing on my hem—”

But Snape did not move. He stood there, his dark eyes locked with the witch’s.

Five minutes into the staring contest, Flitwick nudged Snape. “Severus, I think she’s into you,” he said; “maybe you should go over there and talk to her.”

He still did not move, but said to the witch, “Clearly you are no novice at Occlumency; though you don’t need to shout quite so loudly.”

“My shouting,” said the witch, “was nothing in comparison to your sniveling.”

Snape looked murderous. But before he could do anything, Flitwick intervened. “Now, Snivelleus—I mean ‘Severus’--play nice. I’m sure you two will get along fine.” Flitwick then began to pull away, though ended up walked in place for a few minutes, for Snape still would not move his foot.

“In case of any more disasters,” said Snape, his eyes never leaving the witch, “you, Filius, will be playing chaperon.”

“And I thought I had won the bet,” Flitwick sighed as he followed Snape and the witch back to the table.

“I’m assuming you have a name?” Snape asked in his coldest voice yet as they all sat.

The witch glared at him for a moment before replying, “Amara Anoush.”

“Bitter sweet, how clever.”

“And I’m assuming you, too, have a name?”

“Professor Severus Snape.”

“Tell me, Professor,” Amara scoffed, as if finding it hard to believe that an over-grown bat like Snape could be a professor, “what subject do you teach? I’m sure your students adore you.”

“Well, well, aren’t we clever. I am the Potions Master at Hogwarts, if you must know,” said Snape. “And what on God’s green earth do you do with yourself?—Or are you just a vagrant drunk?”

What Amara said next shocked both Flitwick and Snape….

“I’m a Healer at Saint Mungo’s,” she said, her eyes daring him to laugh.

Snape looked as though Christmas had come early. “In what department do you work? The visitor’s tearoom and hospital shop, I suppose.”

“No, I do not,” said Amara slowly. “I work on the third floor: potion and plant poisoning. You see, Professor, I have to fix what you mess up.”

Flitwick goggled at her. Snape didn’t even flinch, and ignored the comment entirely.“I’m assuming you were a Ravenclaw?”

“Slytherin,” she replied quickly, with a hint of pride in her voice. “And I’m assuming that you were a Hufflepuff?”




“Dark Lord?”

“Death-Eater…former, of course.”

“I see,” Amara replied, her lips turning up in a sarcastic grin.

“And you?” asked Snape, pretending not to be curious.

“The same.”

“Funny we never met.” The two then resumed staring.

“I hate to break up the FDE (former Death-Eaters) convention,” coughed Flitwick, not liking where this was going, “but I suppose I’d better whistle.” Quickly he drew out his wand and gave it a flick in the air. It whistled, perhaps more loudly than Flitwick had intended, and everyone began to rotate.

For the first time that evening, Snape stood up, came around behind his date and pulled the chair back for her.

“Well, aren’t you a prince,” she jeered, rising to her feet.

“As a matter of fact….” Snape let his voice trail off.

“Ugly git,” both Amara and Snape said as they parted ways.

“Oh dear,” said Flitwick.

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Old July 31st, 2006, 1:38 am
House_Elf_21  Undisclosed.gif House_Elf_21 is offline
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Re: Snape Speed-Dating

Snape's next date was a mime who put him in an invisible box. It took Snape nearly twenty minutes to figure how on earth to get out. He was very relieved when he heard the whistle again, and braced himself for the next disaster date.

“—And I will ask you to kindly keep your hands to yourself!” a sharp voice snapped above all of the chattering.

“Wait a moment,” said Snape darkly; “I know that voice.”

“Well, aren’t you a frisky little—”

“Scourgefy!” the witch barked. There was a flash of blinding light and the sound of someone falling over backwards in their chair. “—Someone should have done that a long time ago,” said Minerva McGonagall, straightening her tartan robes. She then looked around the room, all eyes on her. “Well? Get on with your business.”

The crowd didn’t need asking twice.

“Oh goody.” With Slytherin over fifty points ahead of Gryffindor, and that year’s favorite for the Quidditch Cup, Snape couldn’t resist this opportunity to rub it under her nose. “Good evening, Minerva.”

The witch froze and turned around. “Professor Snape!” McGonagall cried, not trying to hide her alarm.

“Out for a night on the town?”

Minerva recovered quickly. “Just as you see. And you are out of your dungeons.”

Snape sighed a phony sigh. “Since you have brought up the subject of school—”

“Here is comes,” Minerva sighed. “Yes, Professor; I am quite aware that Slytherin is having a good year…you’ve reminded me enough times.”

“Sorry, I didn’t quite catch that last part.”

“You heard me all right. Tell me, what is it that you’re doing here? Did you lose another bet?”

“Do you really think,” said Snape slowly, “that I would come here under my own power?”

“I see. And perhaps you know what exactly happened to Gilderoy?”

“His ‘Memory Charm’ backfired—again.”

“Good,” muttered Minerva.

“Would you care for some refreshment?”

“Yes, I would. Thank you, Professor.”

Snape then conjured two green, snake-shaped cookies and two tankards of green pumpkin juice out of thin air. Minerva took her cookie, nodded cheers to Severus and viciously bit off the snake’s head.


“Well, that was a disaster,” Flitwick sighed as they left the building. “The next time I win a bet, we’re doing karaoke.”

“—Assuming that there is a next time,” Snape added coolly. “What a tedious waste of an evening.”

“I’m sure you got more out if than you realize, Severus,” said Flitwick, falling behind.

“I assure you that I got absolutely nothing out of—What are you laughing about?” Snape stopped and turned around.

“Oh, nothing.”

“Then can we finally leave?”

“Certainly,” Flitwick snickered as Snape turned around and began to walk away.

There was a piece of paper stuck on Snape’s back with the names and numbers of 23 witches—including McGonagall’s. And as Snape turned on the spot to apparate, Flitwick sighed, “How did he end up with all digits?”

The End

Last edited by House_Elf_21; July 31st, 2006 at 1:49 am.
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