Hairy Encounters

Napalminthemorning

Write a story about character A discovering something completely unexpected about character B.

Occlumency was not something that Harry Potter deserved to be proud of; mainly because he couldn't do it in the first place. But seriously, Snape shouldn't have just kicked him out of the office like that. Didn't he have rights? Didn't he have privileges, equality and liberty and all that bloody nonsense?

But of course he was talking about Snape, in whose mind 'right' was preceded by the word 'always'.

Hermione and Ron, of course, were of less help than a badger stuck in a Christmas tree.

"He can't do that to you!"

"Well, what do you think I should do?"

"Something!"

"What?I need concrete examples!"

"…he can't do that to you!"

Make that a dead badger stuck in a Christmas tree.

So after a lifetime of cajoling, asking, answering and general freaking out, Harry finally decided to go back to Snape's office. After all, there was nothing like a suicide mission to brighten up an otherwise dull day. He was almost skipping as he pushed aside Snape's door without knocking.

(What was the point of knocking if you were about to die anyway?)

"Professor, I demand my lessons back – "

Harry stopped short when he realized that there was no one in the office. Where could Snape have gone? He hadn't any lessons currently, and if he hadn't any lessons he was always stuck in this dinky excuse for a home. He had to be here somewhere.

There – a small crack in the wall, but a crack nonetheless, with bright light shining through! Excited as a rabbit on caffeine Harry rushed towards it, running his fingers over the wall until he found a latch. It did not occur to him that going into a secret room in Snape's office was probably the last thing anyone would want to do, or the last thing that anyone woulddo.

Clothes. Rows and rows of clothes was the first thing that Harry was confronted with. And not just any clothes either! He would have thought that Snape's wardrobe was all black, but noo. There were evil forces at work, here. For the wardrobe was full of bright, hot pink, fluffy, lacy, frilly…dresses.

What was this? Surely Severus Snape did not have a wife, or something. No one would want to marry him and his hooked nose and his greasy looking hair. But here it was, plain as day, that there was a woman living in Snape's office. Harry almost puked at the sheer amount of pinkness that was this room.

Even as he walked forward and further in; the horrors got bigger and badder. Was that a huge vat of lipstick? Sheer, bright bubbly pink lipstick? And no, not blush.

God, what was this? Snape's woman was seriously a party girl. Harry brushed aside the shimmering curtain that separated him from the rest of the room – and then his jaw hit the floor. Literally.

For Severus Snape, strictest Potions master around, hated by millions, adored by none, as manly as a man could be, was wearing hair curlers, had a beauty spot on his face, ruby red lips, pink powdered cheeks, and…

"Are those garters?" Harry yelped, blinding himself voluntarily with two hands over his face.

"Potter, what are you doing here?" Snape hissed vehemently, striding towards him (yes those were garters, Harry's eyes would never be the same again) and lifting him up by the neck.

"I was about to ask for Occlumency lessons again…but I get why you don't want me to now."

"If you breathe a word, Potter, I swear you will not live to see the daylight again."

"I think right now I'm incapable of seeing daylight already, thank you very much."

Snape sighed tragically and moved back to his glamour seat. "No one ever understood me," he said dramatically, and Harry could already imagine the spotlight in the middle of nowhere. "I was forced to hide behind the monster that I am, when all I really wanted was…a place in the can-can lineup of the Moulin Rouge!"

Oh, God. Harry's mouth was dry. This was not happening.

"Why do you think I kept long hair? So that I could look pretty and feel pretty. But desperate to keep other aspects of my identity hidden I dressed always in black, and put grease in my hair."

"I thought that was real."

"Shut up. At night I would transform into one of the prettiest girls in all of England!"

"Somehow, I'm not seeing that right now."

"Stow it, Potter."

And it was then that Harry's scar started to burn, even as he heard an all-too-familiar voice hissing from the room next door:

"What are you doing, Severus? I'm ready for my pedicure."

Legend has it that never in the field of wizards has one man been able to run away so far and so fast.