A/N: A silly one-shot based on real life. This takes place in… oh, maybe a somewhat alternate universe, shortly after Snape has taken up spying for the light side. Remus is looking for a job, anywhere he might find one. It is very strongly based on an incident in the mall last week, although I don't think I've succeeded well in capturing the exuberance of the salesman. My mother plays the role of McGonagall, and I the role Snape plays, but I did not get accosted with the treatment because my fingernails had scuffed and chipped blue polish on them already, not because I'm male (I'm not, and, furthermore, I wasn't spying on anybody!). Lupin was entirely absent and merely inserted for the purposes of this fic.
And, I don't own anybody. Dedicated to other shy people who are unsure what to do when accosted by exuberant salesmen.
"Hey!" Severus Snape was accosted with the sound of an overly familiar male voice.
He turned, wondering who in the world was greeting him so familiarly. He did see Remus Lupin, although he did not suspect the werewolf of exuberantly greeting him or other innocent passersby, inasmuch as a spy could be innocent here. It seemed it was the man standing next to Lupin who had assaulted his ears. As it was, he was somewhat nervous about being in this magical-Muggle mall and acting somewhat circuitously as a sort of spy. He was trailing Minerva McGonagall, and she knew about it, not because—heaven forbid!—he was so obtrusive a spy as to attract attention to himself when inappropriate.
No—because he was newly turned to the side of the light, and Dumbledore had asked him to serve as their agent in the Dark Lord's army, he had let Minerva know that he was indeed on this job of watching her. It was a bit bizarre, really. And now they had ventured into the Muggle half of the mall.
"Are your nails natural?" asked the self-same individual of the prim Scottish professor.
Remus, who seemed to be accompanying the madman, gave the potions master a small nervous grin, as if he wanted to reassure his former enemy of something he wasn't too sure of himself.
Severus turned, caught up in the spectacle of the esteemed Professor McGonagall being randomly accosted by a very flamboyant salesman in the middle of the mall. The salesman had grabbed McGonagall's hands and appeared to be rubbing a sort of white foam sponge against her fingernails. The woman looked rather taken aback by the sudden action.
"Let me guess, you don't have a manicure—what is your name?" The man had a foreign accent.
"Minerva," she managed. Severus was tempted to tease her. Cat got your tongue, lioness?
"And you?" he asked, somehow managing to associate Severus with the professor, despite the fact that he was actually walking ahead and using the shop windows and a well hidden miniature scrying glass to monitor Minerva's progress.
"…Severus," he muttered, not really eager to talk with this man.
"Well," said the salesman, who had continued rubbing at Minerva's hands all this time, "and you see!"
He removed the device from Minerva's fingernail, which the rather saturnine Slytherin now noticed was rather shiny, as if it had been painted with fingernail polish (yes, he did know what it was—half-blood, all right?), although Minerva was one witch quite unlikely to do so.
Whilst he was reflecting on this, the salesman kept up an in-their-faces banter, saying something about the treatment lasting a month or two, "…And you put a drop of oil on it for the cuticle, and rub it in, and, people will think you had a manicure—doesn't it look like she had a manicure?"
Severus, a bit taken aback, nodded mutely, and glimpsed, uneasily, Lupin, looking entirely out of his element. Well, so was the Slytherin! Why in the world did strange men take it upon themselves to accost the party he was following with some—"Dead Sea Skin Care" as he saw on the sign above the free standing kiosk— product?
"Here, you try it." The salesman said to Minerva, and she, automatically, rubbed the device across her middle finger.
"And you can just sit on the couch in winter and rub like that—perfect for relaxing-" the salesman continued his monologue, while Severus tuned part of it out and almost edged gingerly away from the kiosk sort of like a scared rabbit, but he was held in horrid fascination by the action. "And 5—4—3—2—1, see how it looks!
"Would you buy it if it were free?"
"Well, maybe…" faltered Minerva, with a flustered half-grin, solely for the sake of kindness.
"And one pence? Two pence, would you buy it if it were two pence?" * He had turned to Severus. Lupin, somewhat sensibly, was backing away, despite the fact that it seemed he was supposed to be observing the salesman for some reason.
The fearsome sort-of-former Death Eater faltered before the Muggle's onslaught and mumbled "I…suppose?"
"Ah!" and the man said some other things Severus did not quite catch as he continued to hold the wizards in his horrible thrall. He eventually came out with "It is ten pounds," as he showed Minerva a gift box of sorts.
"Erm, no thank you—"
"For Christmas? For Christmas, you should buy, a present for yourself!" he said.
"I'll consider it, but not now…" Minerva looked aghast at the salesman and finally took hold of Severus's arm, despite the fact that he was supposed to be spying on her. Perhaps it made sense because the salesman had mistaken them for one party.
He looked back at Lupin as they strode aimlessly towards a department store, Minerva rather frazzled, and, after a brief and clearly emotional discussion with the salesman, the werewolf caught up with them. He had the grace to look rather embarrassed.
Minerva motioned to the escalator in front of them and said, "I think we'd best take the moving stairs up—"
"The escalator, you mean?" offered Lupin.
"Yes, the escalator, as we exit—I don't care to run into that man again. That was… strange." The Professor said seamlessly.
"Indeed," agreed Severus, stepping onto the moving stair behind the Scottish witch.
"What were you doing there, Remus?" she inquired as they rode up the stairs, her composure regained.
"Erm…" the werewolf blushed and looked at Severus, "I'm trying to find a job. But I don't think I could manage working that kiosk."
"Surely that man doesn't intend to quit terrorizing citizens at random—he's doing such an excellent job of it, after all?" Snape asked in a sardonic burst of levity, attempting to behave reasonably cordially in front of Minerva.
"No, I think they just want somebody for his time off—you know, two can do a job better than one, and all that—" Lupin gave a half-shrug. "I can't do it."
"No, I cannot say I think you are at all suited for that occupation." The Slytherin agreed, shook his head at the whole business.
Remus looked down at his clothing, seemingly trying to discern if Severus had been making a cruel pun, although such was not at all his intention. "No, Severus, the job is certainly not for me," he finally said.
The three still stricken wizards promptly exited the mall and went their separate ways, although they each vowed that they most certainly would not venture into Muggle malls with such exuberant salesmen again.
This really isn't the best sample of my writing, but I had to write that up. Here's hoping my readers are not accosted by enthusiastic salesmen!
*Unfortunately, I'm somewhat ignorant about subunits of British currency. Do feel free to enlighten me in your review!