Ron was wandering the cold, dank dungeons, thoroughly depressed. He heaved
a sigh as he glanced at the damp, moldy stone walls around him. The world
seemed utterly devoid of happiness, as though dementors were stationed at
every time in young Ronald's life—
"You're a teaser, you turn 'em on!!"
Ron froze. Funky 80's music seemed to emanate from the walls, a chipper soprano singing along to ABBA.
"Leave 'em burning and then you're...gooooooone. Lookin' out for another, anyone will do, you're in the mood for dance."
Ron looked around wildly, trying to pinpoint where the singing was coming from.
"Aaaand when you get the chaaaaa-aaaaance..."
Ron wandered back down the dungeon corridor. The voice swelled in volume.
"You are the Dancing Queen! Young and sweet, only seventeeeeeen! Dancing Queen, fell the beat from the tambouriiiiine oh yeeeeaaaaah!"
Ron finally stopped in front of the most unlikely of doors: Professor Snape's classroom. Ron hesitated. This was clearly a private function of Snape's. Ron was sure he wouldn't want anyone disturbing him...all the same, a burning curiosity overtook him...
He pushed the door open a crack, peeking in as "YOU CAN DANCE! YOU CAN JIII- IIIVE! HAVING THE TIME OF YOUR LII-IIIIFE! OOOH HOOO, SEE THAT GIRL, WATCH THAT SCENE, DIG IN THE DANCING QUEEEEEEEN!" assaulted his ears at an almost violent volume.
Blinking his eyes against the flashing strobe lights and dazzling disco ball that spun the whole room into a state of psychedelic illumination, Ron tried to identify the lone figure dancing wildly in the center of the room, karaoke headset on over flying greasy black hair, wearing a purple leopard print spandex jumpsuit and sparkly platform shoes.
The final notes of the song boomed and the figure spun in a Saturday Night Fever pose. A shriek told Ron he had been spotted.
"Colloportus!" the voice shrieked madly. The door slammed shut in Ron's face and squelched itself sealed.
"Ummm," Ron said, knocking lightly. "Professor Snape? Are you in there?"
Several loud crashes and booms came from his classroom, rocking the dungeons. Ron bit his lip.
"Enter," a raspy voice called from inside. The door creaked open.
Ron peeked in. The disco set-up was gone. Instead, Snape's classroom was a dark office with mahogany paneling on the walls. Snape sat behind a large oak desk, situated in the corner, deep in shadows.
"What can I do for you?" Snape asked, his voice oddly raspy and strange.
"I was just...wondering if...if you were ok," Ron said lamely. He felt ridiculous to be standing there, and he didn't want to admit what he had heard and seen a few moments before.
"Your care and concern are very touching," Snape rasped. Ron recognized the voice...he almost had his finger on it...
"But as you can see, I'm fine. Now, why have you come to me on this day?"
Ron had it.
"Um. Professor? Why are you doing The Godfather?" Ron asked timidly.
"You come to my classroom every week, yet you never have invited me to your home for so much as a cup of coffee, my wife being godmother to your only child. Now that you are in trouble, you come seeking my help. I do not give help to those who abuse the hand I extend in friendship."
"Ummm..."
"What have I ever done to make you treat me so disrespectfully? If you'd come to me in friendship, then this scum that ruined your daughter would be suffering this very day. And if by chance an honest man like yourself should make enemies, then they would become my enemies. And then they would fear you," Snape persisted, his fingertips touching to form a triangle in front of his face.
"Right," Ron said. "Well, I have—homework...to do, so--"
"Hey, whataya gonna do, nice college boy, eh? Didn't want to get mixed up in the Family business, huh? Now you wanna gun down a police captain. Why? Because he slapped ya in the face a little bit? Hah? What do you think this is the Army, where you shoot 'em a mile away? You've gotta get up close like this and bada-bing. you blow their brains all over your nice Ivy League suit. C'mere..."
Ron paused halfway to the door. Snape motioned him back. Ron sat in front of his desk again.
"You're taking this very personal. This is business, and you're taking it personal."
"Right." Ron nodded. Hopefully soon Snape would have had his fun and let him go.
"What can I do for you this day, Weasley?" Snape asked, looking anxious.
"Nothing, really, Professor--"
"Is it because I'm getting older? I can promise you, my age has nothing to do with anything. I'm not slipping. I'm not losing my sanity. You can go and tell all the other gorillas out on the streets that, too, because I'm losing valuable business. Have you all found another Godfather?" Snape looked positively terrified.
"No, Professor."
"Good then. Now what can I do for you? You wouldn't have been wandering the dungeons for no good reason, Weasley," Snape breathed. Ron caught a little bit of his old self in those words.
"I'm sure it wouldn't concern you, Professor, thanks though," Ron said quickly.
"Your eyes...your eyes have the suffering of many...sufferings," Snape said. "Heartaches."
He surveyed Ron carefully.
"You need to find yourself a girl, mate," Snape said at last. "Come here."
Ron followed Snape into his office, to a computer sitting in the corner. Snape typed at the keyboard and waved Ron into the seat.
Ron looked at the screen. "Selectsmart.com, sir?"
Snape nodded eagerly. "Read on."
"'Which Hogwarts Girl is Right For You?'" Ron read off the screen. He looked at Snape. "Oh, please sir...not one of these..."
"You will answer the questions, Weasley, or you shall lose your House fifty points," Snape said pointedly. "I'm doing this for your own good, so have a little gratitude, you miserable brat."
Ron swallowed and looked away from Snape's angry face and began to read the first question. Snape leaned down to read over his shoulder, breathing right into Ron's ear. Ron looked at him, annoyed. Snape simply jabbed him in the back with his wand. Ron continued reading, ignoring Snape's noisy breaths.
The first question read: Do you find that intelligence and wit fall short of stunningly good looks?
Ron hesitated. He really didn't feel like answering these personal questions with Snape looking on. Snape jabbed him again and Ron clicked an answer.
"Ooh, nice choice," Snape said encouragingly from his shoulder. Ron continued on.
The test took less than five minutes, delving into his most personal preferences and what he was looking for in a girl. Snape kept chirping things like, "I'd have said that, too," which made Ron want to go and change it, and "Hmm. Interesting."
Finally, the test was over, and Ron clicked the send button. The page wiped blank and began loading slowly.
"Lousy dial-up," Snape muttered as they watched the hour-glass cursor turn over and over and over, mesmerized. "Of course Dumbledore won't invest in new technology..."
The page popped up suddenly, and Snape took a deep intake of breath, clenching Ron's shoulder in his fist. Ron looked up at him, his face riveted to the screen, and rather thought he was a bit more excited than Ron himself was. He kept hearing Snape utter something that sounded suspiciously like "Hermione."
Ron scrolled down slowly. He read his number one match with a feeling of incredulity as Snape gasped, horrified, beside him.
"Oh, my dear boy!" Snape all but squealed. "Sometimes these tests, they can be wrong! Authored by Muggles, no doubt--"
Ron stared dreamily at the screen. At the lack of outburst from Ron, Snape stooped to look at his face, convinced Ron must be in shock.
"Fleur...Delacour..." Ron breathed, in ecstasy.
"It's not as horrible as it seems, pay no mind," Snape said uneasily.
"Fleur Delacour!" Ron shouted, jumping up and raising his fist in triumph. Snape looked stunned. Ron glanced at him. "Are you alright, Professor?"
Snape stared. "Are you sure you're alright, Weasley?"
Ron nodded happily.
"Not...shocked? Outraged? Disgusted?"
"No...why should I be?" Ron asked bemusedly, his excitement ebbing.
"Well...because...she's French!" Snape blurted out.
"And?"
Snape stared in shock, mixed with horror, mixed with blatant confusion.
"That doesn't bother you?" he asked.
"Not in the least. She's gorgeous!" Ron crowed.
"And French," Snape muttered darkly. "Foul lot of--"
"So what now, Professor?" Ron asked, flushed with enthusiasm.
"Well...now you go get your woman."
Ron's face fell. "Oh."
Snape looked appalled. "Don't tell me you don't know how to court? Seduce? Stalk?"
Ron's face brightened at that last word. Snape groaned.
"Oh, dear...what have I gotten myself into?"
He looked down at Ron, whose bright, shining, hopeful face was watching him closely. "Oh alright," Snape huffed. "Stop staring at me like that. It gives me the heebie-jeebies. I'll help you."
Ron charged at Snape and hugged him tightly around the middle. Snape looked decidedly revolted. "ONLY if you promise NEVER...TO...DO...THAT...AGAIN!" he bellowed.
Ron took a happy step back. "What do we do first?"
"Excellent question. I'll tell you."
"You're a teaser, you turn 'em on!!"
Ron froze. Funky 80's music seemed to emanate from the walls, a chipper soprano singing along to ABBA.
"Leave 'em burning and then you're...gooooooone. Lookin' out for another, anyone will do, you're in the mood for dance."
Ron looked around wildly, trying to pinpoint where the singing was coming from.
"Aaaand when you get the chaaaaa-aaaaance..."
Ron wandered back down the dungeon corridor. The voice swelled in volume.
"You are the Dancing Queen! Young and sweet, only seventeeeeeen! Dancing Queen, fell the beat from the tambouriiiiine oh yeeeeaaaaah!"
Ron finally stopped in front of the most unlikely of doors: Professor Snape's classroom. Ron hesitated. This was clearly a private function of Snape's. Ron was sure he wouldn't want anyone disturbing him...all the same, a burning curiosity overtook him...
He pushed the door open a crack, peeking in as "YOU CAN DANCE! YOU CAN JIII- IIIVE! HAVING THE TIME OF YOUR LII-IIIIFE! OOOH HOOO, SEE THAT GIRL, WATCH THAT SCENE, DIG IN THE DANCING QUEEEEEEEN!" assaulted his ears at an almost violent volume.
Blinking his eyes against the flashing strobe lights and dazzling disco ball that spun the whole room into a state of psychedelic illumination, Ron tried to identify the lone figure dancing wildly in the center of the room, karaoke headset on over flying greasy black hair, wearing a purple leopard print spandex jumpsuit and sparkly platform shoes.
The final notes of the song boomed and the figure spun in a Saturday Night Fever pose. A shriek told Ron he had been spotted.
"Colloportus!" the voice shrieked madly. The door slammed shut in Ron's face and squelched itself sealed.
"Ummm," Ron said, knocking lightly. "Professor Snape? Are you in there?"
Several loud crashes and booms came from his classroom, rocking the dungeons. Ron bit his lip.
"Enter," a raspy voice called from inside. The door creaked open.
Ron peeked in. The disco set-up was gone. Instead, Snape's classroom was a dark office with mahogany paneling on the walls. Snape sat behind a large oak desk, situated in the corner, deep in shadows.
"What can I do for you?" Snape asked, his voice oddly raspy and strange.
"I was just...wondering if...if you were ok," Ron said lamely. He felt ridiculous to be standing there, and he didn't want to admit what he had heard and seen a few moments before.
"Your care and concern are very touching," Snape rasped. Ron recognized the voice...he almost had his finger on it...
"But as you can see, I'm fine. Now, why have you come to me on this day?"
Ron had it.
"Um. Professor? Why are you doing The Godfather?" Ron asked timidly.
"You come to my classroom every week, yet you never have invited me to your home for so much as a cup of coffee, my wife being godmother to your only child. Now that you are in trouble, you come seeking my help. I do not give help to those who abuse the hand I extend in friendship."
"Ummm..."
"What have I ever done to make you treat me so disrespectfully? If you'd come to me in friendship, then this scum that ruined your daughter would be suffering this very day. And if by chance an honest man like yourself should make enemies, then they would become my enemies. And then they would fear you," Snape persisted, his fingertips touching to form a triangle in front of his face.
"Right," Ron said. "Well, I have—homework...to do, so--"
"Hey, whataya gonna do, nice college boy, eh? Didn't want to get mixed up in the Family business, huh? Now you wanna gun down a police captain. Why? Because he slapped ya in the face a little bit? Hah? What do you think this is the Army, where you shoot 'em a mile away? You've gotta get up close like this and bada-bing. you blow their brains all over your nice Ivy League suit. C'mere..."
Ron paused halfway to the door. Snape motioned him back. Ron sat in front of his desk again.
"You're taking this very personal. This is business, and you're taking it personal."
"Right." Ron nodded. Hopefully soon Snape would have had his fun and let him go.
"What can I do for you this day, Weasley?" Snape asked, looking anxious.
"Nothing, really, Professor--"
"Is it because I'm getting older? I can promise you, my age has nothing to do with anything. I'm not slipping. I'm not losing my sanity. You can go and tell all the other gorillas out on the streets that, too, because I'm losing valuable business. Have you all found another Godfather?" Snape looked positively terrified.
"No, Professor."
"Good then. Now what can I do for you? You wouldn't have been wandering the dungeons for no good reason, Weasley," Snape breathed. Ron caught a little bit of his old self in those words.
"I'm sure it wouldn't concern you, Professor, thanks though," Ron said quickly.
"Your eyes...your eyes have the suffering of many...sufferings," Snape said. "Heartaches."
He surveyed Ron carefully.
"You need to find yourself a girl, mate," Snape said at last. "Come here."
Ron followed Snape into his office, to a computer sitting in the corner. Snape typed at the keyboard and waved Ron into the seat.
Ron looked at the screen. "Selectsmart.com, sir?"
Snape nodded eagerly. "Read on."
"'Which Hogwarts Girl is Right For You?'" Ron read off the screen. He looked at Snape. "Oh, please sir...not one of these..."
"You will answer the questions, Weasley, or you shall lose your House fifty points," Snape said pointedly. "I'm doing this for your own good, so have a little gratitude, you miserable brat."
Ron swallowed and looked away from Snape's angry face and began to read the first question. Snape leaned down to read over his shoulder, breathing right into Ron's ear. Ron looked at him, annoyed. Snape simply jabbed him in the back with his wand. Ron continued reading, ignoring Snape's noisy breaths.
The first question read: Do you find that intelligence and wit fall short of stunningly good looks?
Ron hesitated. He really didn't feel like answering these personal questions with Snape looking on. Snape jabbed him again and Ron clicked an answer.
"Ooh, nice choice," Snape said encouragingly from his shoulder. Ron continued on.
The test took less than five minutes, delving into his most personal preferences and what he was looking for in a girl. Snape kept chirping things like, "I'd have said that, too," which made Ron want to go and change it, and "Hmm. Interesting."
Finally, the test was over, and Ron clicked the send button. The page wiped blank and began loading slowly.
"Lousy dial-up," Snape muttered as they watched the hour-glass cursor turn over and over and over, mesmerized. "Of course Dumbledore won't invest in new technology..."
The page popped up suddenly, and Snape took a deep intake of breath, clenching Ron's shoulder in his fist. Ron looked up at him, his face riveted to the screen, and rather thought he was a bit more excited than Ron himself was. He kept hearing Snape utter something that sounded suspiciously like "Hermione."
Ron scrolled down slowly. He read his number one match with a feeling of incredulity as Snape gasped, horrified, beside him.
"Oh, my dear boy!" Snape all but squealed. "Sometimes these tests, they can be wrong! Authored by Muggles, no doubt--"
Ron stared dreamily at the screen. At the lack of outburst from Ron, Snape stooped to look at his face, convinced Ron must be in shock.
"Fleur...Delacour..." Ron breathed, in ecstasy.
"It's not as horrible as it seems, pay no mind," Snape said uneasily.
"Fleur Delacour!" Ron shouted, jumping up and raising his fist in triumph. Snape looked stunned. Ron glanced at him. "Are you alright, Professor?"
Snape stared. "Are you sure you're alright, Weasley?"
Ron nodded happily.
"Not...shocked? Outraged? Disgusted?"
"No...why should I be?" Ron asked bemusedly, his excitement ebbing.
"Well...because...she's French!" Snape blurted out.
"And?"
Snape stared in shock, mixed with horror, mixed with blatant confusion.
"That doesn't bother you?" he asked.
"Not in the least. She's gorgeous!" Ron crowed.
"And French," Snape muttered darkly. "Foul lot of--"
"So what now, Professor?" Ron asked, flushed with enthusiasm.
"Well...now you go get your woman."
Ron's face fell. "Oh."
Snape looked appalled. "Don't tell me you don't know how to court? Seduce? Stalk?"
Ron's face brightened at that last word. Snape groaned.
"Oh, dear...what have I gotten myself into?"
He looked down at Ron, whose bright, shining, hopeful face was watching him closely. "Oh alright," Snape huffed. "Stop staring at me like that. It gives me the heebie-jeebies. I'll help you."
Ron charged at Snape and hugged him tightly around the middle. Snape looked decidedly revolted. "ONLY if you promise NEVER...TO...DO...THAT...AGAIN!" he bellowed.
Ron took a happy step back. "What do we do first?"
"Excellent question. I'll tell you."