Knock, knock.

"Enter."

Severus Snape opened the door to the Headmaster's office slowly, taking care to note his surroundings. As of late Albus Dumbledore had become utterly fascinated by Muggle technology and inventions, and the last time Snape had been summoned to his office, a toy airplane had flown into his head. Certain that there were no flying obstacles in his path, he made his way over to Dumbledore's desk. Dumbledore presently had strained expression on his face and was valiantly trying place the needle of a record player on the spinning record but kept scratching it instead. Scattered around him lay several other records, most with deep gauges in them, and what appeared to be part of a Muggle newspaper with something circled in red.

Snape summoned a chair for himself, prepared for yet another session of listening to Dumbledore ramble about the latest Muggle invention he had discovered. Last time his focus had been on flight, which had subsequently led to the airplane incident and a rather tender bump on Snape's head. After about a minute of watching Dumbledore attempt to play his record, Snape conjured up a glass of firewhiskey that was charmed to look like water, took a hefty swig, and settled back in his chair. Let's get this over with.

"Where did you get the machine?"

Without looking up at him, a patiently frustrated Dumbledore pushed the newspaper towards Snape with his free hand. Looking at the circled text, Snape asked, "And the records as well?"

Dumbledore nodded absently. "Estate sales are fantastic. You can find anything."

Snape stared blankly at the newspaper, not caring what it said, then sighed and put it back on Dumbledore's desk.

"Headmaster, was there anything in particular--"

He was cut off by trumpets and a very loud baritone voice followed by Dumbledore's satisfied yelp of victory. Quickly turning down the music, Dumbledore spread his arms wide and gleefully stated, "This, my friend, is a record player."

"Yes, sir, I know wha-"

"And these round things are called records."

"Yes, I kn-"

"And the man who is singing is known by Muggles as Frank Sinatra."

Sigh.

As Dumbledore launched into the biography of Sinatra and his role in American music, Snape took another drink of "water". He had endured three weeks of this Muggle obsession and lectures about various tools and concepts. Dumbledore, for reasons merely known to himself, subjected only Snape to his near daily regailings and fully expected him to share his enthusiasm. He had to take part in experiments; only once had he drawn the line, when Dumbledore had wanted him to model clothes from the American 1970s. The record player was, in fact, fairly tame compared to some of the other objects of past interest.

"And a few years before Sinatra, there was this fellow called Elvis, and young people really liked him, but their parents thought he was too risqué because of his crazy pelvic thrusting"

Snape hurriedly interrupted Dumbledore, who had risen to demonstrate just what "pelvic thrusting" looked like. "Was there anything else you wanted to discuss with me, sir? Because I have a potion that needs to be stirred once every forty minutes, and we're coming up on minute forty-three now."

"Oh, yes. I do need to talk to you." Dumbledore turned down the record player a little more, then shifted to look Snape in the eye. "Severus."

"Yes."

"Severus, I'm in love with the eighties."

Oh, God.

"To be more specific, I'm in love with the American eighties."

Oh, no. Snape did not know what Dumbledore was up to, but he knew that look, and it meant that he wanted Snape to do something for him.

"Severus, I want you to go to America and experience the eighties for me."

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Severus Snape sat with his head face buried in his hands, having given up his usual emotionless composure. Why him? During the war, he had selflessly risked his life for the Order of the Pheonix by becoming Dumbledore's personal spy in the Dark Lord's ranks; with the war now over, he had been looking forward to leading a more simple life with what remained of his reputation in the wizarding world. He had hoped that by now he had repaid whatever debt he owed to Dumbledore. And yet, after six years of misleading tranquility, he was asked for yet another favor, if it could even be called that. A favor implies simplicity. A favor is asking one's neighbor for a cup of flour. A favor does not include traveling thousands of miles for endless days to catch a glimpse of a time two decades past.

Snape looked up at Dumbledore, who was sitting serenly behind his desk with that optimistic, slightly crazed smile firmly in place. "Headmaster…are you su-…do you real-…"

"Yes, I am sure. I want to know everything there is to know and see everything there is to see. Unfortunately, I am too old to travel so extensively. And I am certain you share my belief that the best way to learn is to experience, rather than read." Snape was hurriedly shaking his head, which Dumbledore was conveniently ignoring. "So I have decided that the best solution is to send someone in my place to experience everything for me. I also do not want the information that I will receive to be one-sided, so--"

He was interrupted by the slam of the office door. Hermione Granger, now a woman of twenty-three years, strode into the office with a piece of paper clutched tightly in one hand. The five years since her graduation from Hogwarts had treated her well. Instead of frizzy and dull brown, her hair was now straight with highlights from the sun. While she no longer stuck her nose in the air as she had when she was younger, she still possessed a certain confidence that can only be obtained by assurance of intelligence. She had actually become quite pretty since her adolescent days, growing from the flat-chested teenager of her fourth year into a graceful, curvy young woman.

Said woman now walked directly up to Dumbledore, slammed the paper down on his desk, and promptly shrieked, "I have to do this with HIM?" with a vengeful poke in Snape's direction.

Dumbledore, ever the calm one, said, "Hermione, you are just in time to hear my explanation to Professor Snape. If you will please sit," and summoned her a cushioned chair.

Hermione ignored the chair. "Headmaster, sir, you know that as the professor of Muggle studies of Hogwarts, I am more than happy to conduct this research trip for you. However, when we discussed this, you said nothing of an escort."

Dumbledore just smiled and continued talking to Snape as though there had been no interruption. "As I was saying, I would not want this educational information to be one-sided, so I am sending two people on this journey. I want the female perspective as well as the male." Snape just stared bewilderedly back at him. Turning to Hermione, Dumbledore said, "And as for you traveling alone, I would not feel it proper to be sending you to a foreign country without any means of support. I also believe that you, specializing in Muggle study, and Professor Snape, in Potions, will see things very differently, and I can only benefit from two different points of view. Does that answer that question?"

Hermione started to make a retort, but after catching Dumbledore's determined gaze snapped her mouth shut and mutely nodded.

"Now then, to the details—please, dear, sit down—to the details of your journey. You will be traveling by auto, visiting important sites that I have already chosen."

Snape nearly choked in shock. "Auto? Why can we not apparate?"

Dumbledore looked at him as though the answer were obvious. "You cannot apparate because you cannot draw undue attention to yourselves."

Hermione bit back, "Oh, yes, of course, because two foreigners asking about Michael Jackson when he was black won't attract any attention at all!"

"Hermione, please," replied Dumbledore in his most patient of voices. "Now, the summer term is just beginning, so that gives the two of you plenty of time to travel in America and return in time to start classes. I will allow you to apparate to your starting point in Boston, Massachussetts. There is a place much like London's Diagon Alley there where you can arrive inconspicuously. From there, you will rent a car and drive the rest of the way to Los Angeles, California, where you can apparate to Hogwarts. I am not going to prescribe your route, only a few major sites to be visited, therefore you will need to do your research before you leave."

"Which is when?" Hermione interjected.

"Two days time. I will give you a sum of money to sustain you the entire trip. My only other requirements for your journey is that you are gone for at least three weeks," earning a small gasp from Hermione and a groan from Snape, "and that you document everything thoroughly through notes, pictures, and video."

Silence rang through the office. Hermione sat quietly, smoothing out the memo in her hand. Snape suddenly stood and started to pace. Dumbledore watched him serenely, waiting for the inevitable question. Snape did not make him wait long.

"Sir, with all due respect, what is there to force me to do this? I believe I have already fully served you during the war. Why must I do this?"

Finally able to play his trump card, Dumbledore calmly replied, "You must do this because if you refuse, I will give the Defense Against the Dark Arts position to Harry Potter."

Snape rounded on Dumbledore, disbelief showing in his features. A small chuckle surfaced in the room. Snape glared at Hermione, who stifled the rest of her laughter, shrugged her shoulders and said,

"Well, I guess we're going on a roadtrip then, aren't we?"

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Well, there she be, my first fanfiction! Thanks so much for reading, and please please please give me feedback! I don't care if you hated it, let me know!

Also, the expected disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters were used without permission. They are the copyright of J.R. Rowling and Warner Bros. They are used with consideration and with no intent to make money.