Author's Notes: I Don't own Harry Potter or any of the characters in the books by J.K. Rowling. Nor do I own the lyrics to the songs I mention in this fanfic, they all belong to their respective copyright holders.
This fic is dedicated to Azrael Geffen, for putting evil ideas into my head.
"This is ridiculous!" Hermione said indignantly, "Ouch! Watch where you're putting your feet, Ron!" She hissed.
"Sorry, 'Mione." He mumbled, his voice muffled through the materiel of the invisibility cloak. The stairs down to the dungeon were dark and cold. The icy drafts that blew down here seemed to cut right through to the bones, paying no heed to layers of clothing. Hermione shivered.
"Why are we doing this? It's late and it's cold, Harry…"
Harry looked up from the Marauders Map and peered intently into the gloomy corridor.
"Snape's been sneaking around the dungeons every night for almost a week now," Harry replied with exaggerated patience, "And we all saw him in Hogsmeade buying all those supplies. I want to know what he's up to."
Hermione rolled her eyes, "Oh, for Heaven's sake. Dumbledore trusts him, he works for the Order. What terrible thing could he possibly be up to?"
Ron shook his head slightly, "Harry's right, Hermione. He was buying enough stuff to throw a party. Something's got to be going on." Ron paused then, and his face suddenly drained of colour. "Harry," Ron said in a choked whisper, "You don't think Snape could be holding a…a…Dark Revel down here, do you?"
"Don't be ridiculous, Ron! Honestly, how would the Death Eaters get in? How would they leave without alerting the whole castle? Hogwarts is warded against forced entry."
"Snape could let them in," Ron insisted stubbornly, "Or they could just app…"
"Oh, how many times…"
"Shh!" Harry hissed suddenly, "I can hear something…just down the corridor."
They shuffled along in silence, their lips pressed tightly together, as the sound of a raucous celebration got louder and louder. They began to catch snatches of scents…a fruity smell, too sharp to be anything as ordinary as fruit juice, and a sweet, smoky smell that seemed somehow familiar.
They slowly rounded a corner…and stopped dead in their tracks.
One of the unused classrooms had been altered into some sort of party room. Spots on the ceiling had been enchanted to cast dazzlingly colourful sports of light around the room that danced and jumped along to the music…
Oh, Merlin. The music…electronic keyboards, deep bass lines and strangely compelling vocals. And through the open door, the trio could see tables lined up against the walls, covered in bottles and glasses and one enormous punch bowl containing various different coloured liquids.
But it was another impression that would forever burn itself into their minds as they faced the door.
Snape was stood on top of a table near the middle of the room. He was dressed in tight-fitting leather trousers, a billowing white shirt and a velvet frock coat. His usually greasy-looking hair had been washed and strangely teased until it almost stood up. Dark eye shadow and lipstick decorated his face, contrasting violently with the streaks of war paint that ran across his cheeks. He was prancing up and down the table in a rhythmic sort of fashion and he was singling along with the music while the other - oh, Merlin, were they teachers? – revellers clapped along to the beat.
"I'm the dandy highwayman, so sick of easy fashion, the clumsy boots, peek-a-boo roots that people think so dashing," He sang, waving his hand around like a man wielding a pistol, "So what's the point of robbery when nothing is worth taking, it's kind of tough to tell a scruff the big mistake he's making." Here Snape did a little twirl as he went into the chorus, "Stand and deliver, your money or your life…" He sang, his deep voice contrasting in an odd, but not unpleasant way with the main vocals and he danced up and down the table.
The song ended, and Snape jumped easily down from the high table. A woman in a green velvet dress - that looked suspiciously like Professor McGonagall with her hair down - wandered over to hand the Potions Master a drink, a pale purple liquid in a pint glass.
"Here you go, Severus." She said handing him the glass with a smile, "Though how you can stand to drink that substance is beyond me."
"Snakebite and black is a subtle alchemy, not everyone is capable of appreciating its magnificence." He said grandly as he took a sip. McGonagall laughed.
Oh, Severus, it's been too long since we had a party like this. You always throw the best ones."
"Yes, I do, don't I?" He smirked and looked around the room. Dumbledore stood in the corner with Flitwick and Sprout, all of them trying to sing along – badly – to 'Vienna' by Ultravox, Professor Sprout's nose and cheeks had turned very red and she was grinning broadly. Hagrid was sat in a chair in the corner that was too small for him, swaying along to the music and spilling most of his pot of ale on the floor, but he seemed to be enjoying himself. Madam Hooch was dancing with Poppy Pomfrey and Professor Vector.
The music changed again and both Snape and McGonagall hastily put down their drinks and made their way to the makeshift dance floor.
Almost the entire teaching staff had crowded into the centre of the room, dancing and waving their arms in intricate patterns to the music as the dark-voiced lead singer almost whispered the words.
"In the temple of love you hide
together,
Believing pain and fear outside,
But someone near you
rides the weather,
And the tears he cried will rain on walls,
As
wide as lovers eyes …"
Hermione shivered, which brought her out of the near-trance she had been in. To one side, Harry stood just as transfixed as she had been, his mouth hanging open in pure shock. To her other side, Ron was making odd strangling noises, his eyes almost bugging out of his head.
"We should leave, now." Hermione said, her voice low, quick and urgent.
"What?" Harry said, coming out his shock. "Yeah. Yeah, let's go."
Ron made no move, not even and indication that he had heard them, his eyes still wide and round as saucers.
"Muh…" Ron said stupidly.
Hermione rolled her eyes and grabbed one of his arms, Harry grabbed the other and the quietly led their semi-traumatised friend back to Gryffindor tower, leaving behind the teachers and their cheerful, unexpected revel.
None of them could get the images of the party out of their head. They simply could not equate what they had seen with the images of the stern, demanding images that their professors presented during the day.
They didn't understand that it could all be traced back to one simple, common phrase that was used as often in the Muggle world as it was in the magical.
'Eat, drink and be Merry.
For tomorrow, we may die.'
The End