Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters or the settings in this story, it all belongs to J. K. Rowling
Thank you so very much for your reviews, everybody! I was really pleased to see that you liked to first chapter, so I hurried with the next one.
It is rather late, so please forgive me any mistake I may have overlooked ;D
Severus Snape's head was pounding heavily; for a few dreadful seconds he even feared it might explode. The Potion Master was desperate to get up, but he couldn't move a single muscle without aching all over again. Racking pains prevented him from any further movement.
When a faraway sound reached his ear, he wondered whether he was hallucinating, no, dying even, for said noise sounded like his very own voice. How was that possible? He was lying on the bloody ground, unable to move and he was pretty sure not to have uttered a single word. So was this a sign of his approaching death?
The question was answered when he heard a second voice, mumbling some paltry excuse. A shaky voice it was, and it sounded suspiciously like… Weasley! Ronald bloody Weasley, that obnoxious little brat!
As the memories of that turnip's spell hitting him returned, Severus' body tensed, and a rush of cold fury hit him yet again. He cast his eyes open just to stare at some intimidated students bent over his motionless body. As he scowled at them, they backed away immediately, bumping into one another in the process.
When he was getting up ever so slowly trying to avoid any unnecessary pain, he could hear a few of his bones make rather disturbing cracking noises. Oh, sweet Merlin, I feel like an old lady!, he thought, holding his hand against his aching temples.
It was in this very moment that he caught the eyes of, well… himself. Standing on the other side of the courtyard, looking as shocked and baffled as he himself was feeling, was Severus Snape, Potion Master and Head of Slytherin. But how could this be if he clearly stood here, staring at himself? Was this one of those obscure out-of-body experiences Trelawney always kept waffling about?
No, for he felt his own hand touch his forehead. His incomprehensibly wrinkly forehead, that seemed to bear a strange resemblance to dry parchment. When he took the hand away from his front in order to examine it closely, it looked oddly blurry. Speaking of which, all of his immediate surroundings did. Slowly, it dawned on him what was going on…
"Your glasses, Professor McGonagall." Roger Davies, a Fourth year Ravenclaw who was all too sure of himself, was gleaming eagerly like a puppy dog at Severus while handing him Minvera's spectacles. Bootlicker.
"And just about what do you expect me to do with them, Davies?!", he spat venomously, thereby answering his own question for it was not his own, but his colleague's voice that came out of his mouth. Oh crap…
Davies looked baffled, but living up to the ideal of a witty Ravenclaw, he answered, obviously without thinking: "Put them on, I suppose. Or would you rather I ate them for lunch?"
"Mister Davies!", Snape heard his own voice bawl from across the courtyard. The other Snape –a fraud? Minerva?– had set into motion, heading towards Severus with bounding strides. "I will not allow you to speak to Professor McGonagall like this. Five points from Ravenclaw for disrespectful behaviour!" Then he added, facing that Weasley brat: "As for you, Mr. Weasley, we will talk about this… let's call it an incident, shall we?...later on. I expect to see you in my office tonight at eight o'clock. Don't grin like that, Mr. Malfoy, for this applies to you, too."
Meanwhile, the Fake Snape, who sounded suspiciously like Minerva, had arrived in front of Severus, and he was surprised to see that the fraud had about half a head on him. Crudely, the man packed Severus' wrist, hissing: "You, come with me!", dragging him along before he had a chance to react.
Phoney-Snape dispersed the crowd of students that had gathered in order to watch the spectacle by shooing them away to the Great Hall where lunch should be served by now, all the while heading in the opposing direction.
As soon as they had reached an empty hallway, Severus broke free. "Would you possibly be so kind as to tell me what in Merlin's name is going on here?", he blurted out, but all he got as an answer was a mere "Huh…"
"Huh!?", he repeated incredulously. "Is that all you've got to say about this?"
Swirling around, Phoney-Snape now faced him. But instead of the furious look Severus had expected to see, the other one's face took on a sickly sweet smile, which looked more like an utterly grotesque grimace, really. In his most saccharine tone, the man chirruped: "No idea what's going on? You don't say!" Then, the fraud, well… Minerva, for it could be no other, hissed grimly: "I had hoped you could enlighten me, for I am, as I have to admit, perfectly clueless myself."
"No need to get huffy…", Severus stated as he watched his own body striding up and down the deserted hallway.
Scowling at him, Minerva snapped: "It bloody well is!" Her pitch-black robes were billowing behind her as she was still pacing back and forth. What an irritating habit of hers… Why couldn't she just stand still for a moment, giving him a chance to think this through logically? Instead, she muttered absentmindedly, more to herself than to him: "How could this have happened? What are we supposed to do? Is it permanent? Does it mean tha-"
"Oh stop it, will you!", Snape growled. "I can't concentrate while you're pacing up and down like a caged lion!"
Her nostrils flared dangerously, but she did as he had told her nevertheless, leaning against the stone wall. Minerva let out an exasperated sigh. She, well, Severus' body that is, looked defeated and exhausted, glooming about the incomprehensible thing that had happened. Sure, magic was nothing to be understood, but no matter how much he agonised what kind of spell could have hit them, he couldn't come up with anything.
Snape was positively sure that he had never encountered a similar jinx during his whole school carrier, left alone his second year! So how in the world could that foolish Weasley whose intellectual and magical competences were comparable to those of a stone have hexed them like that?
If it had been a swot like Granger, the mudblood who spent her days in the library, or someone like Malfoy, who had cut his teeth on dark curses…. But Weasley? That addle-brained, heavy-handed dunce Weasley?
Judging by the sombre look on his own pale face, he figured that Minerva did not know the spell either. "Well?", Severus broke the silence, flinching yet again as it was her voice that resounded with the cold stone walls.
She looked at him in a pretty irritated way, the black eyes gazing at him icily. "How would I know?", she finally answered crossly. That woman was about as helpful as any of Trelawney's predictions.
"I guess this is some kind of transfiguration?", he suggested, adding with a sneer on his face and a mocking tone in his voice: "And isn't that supposed to be your field of expertise, my highly esteemed colleague?"
"Cut it out, Snape", Minerva hissed, making a step in his direction. Then she explained, in a more matter-of-fact kind of voice: "Unless we're dealing with very dark magic, which isn't all that unlikely, I have no memory of stumbling across a transfiguration that turns you into someone else entirely." A short pause followed, during which both teachers reflected on what she had just said.
Smiling maliciously, McGonagall then asked sweetly: "But let's go back to that Dark Arts idea again, shall we? I trust you know a whole lot more about this subject than I do, or am I mistaken?"
Severus snorted, trying to think of an answer when all of a sudden, approaching footsteps and a soft, jolly melody reached his ear. "Dumbledore", Minerva hissed beside him when a long, dark shadow appeared at the end of the hallway. Seconds later, the Headmaster, wearing velvety, gold-star-spangled robes and brushing his long white beard, came around the corner, humming light-heartedly and… was he skipping?
When he saw them standing there, he called out merrily: "Hello, Minerva! Severus!"
"Headmaster", Severus mumbled in acknowledgement, sounding somewhat awkward.
"Albus!", Minerva replied in Snape's voice at the same time.
Dumbledore stopped dead, staring at them, both of his eyebrows arched. His bright blue eyes were twinkling in the oddest way, and if Snape had not known better, he'd have said there were mirth and wry amusement in the Headmaster's gaze. Then again… This was Albus Dumbledore, in what universe would he not consider a dilemma of this sort entertaining?
But how could he possibly know? He had been in his office all morning, doing paperwork. At least, that was what he had announced during breakfast. And as they had not spoken but a single word each… But being Dumbledore, the wise old wizard who had known and taught them both from age eleven onwards, this might just about suffice.
Severus stiffened, and from the corner of his eye he saw Minerva tense up, her facial expression frozen as she asked as innocently as possible: "Is anything the matter, Sir?" All the while, she did her very best to imitate the Potion Master's sneering voice.
"Dear Merlin, I wonder what happened to the two of you", the old man chuckled. McGonagall's best effort had not been enough to fool the old crackpot. What a surprise, Severus thought sardonically, trying hard not to roll his eyes.
The corners of Albus' mouth were twitching as he attempted not to grin. Trying to be more serious, he then requested: "Take my arm, if you would" The tone of his voice did not leave any room for an argument, so they both did as he had told them without protest. With a loud CRACK they disappeared.
A spilt-second later, they appeared on the small path leading to Hogsmeade, just outside of Hogwarts. Apparating on Hogwarts Grounds… Being the Headmaster sure does have its perks, Severus thought. Apparition had never been his favourite form of travelling for he hated the squashing-sensation. Also, he always felt slightly sick afterwards.
Without hesitation, Albus set out towards the village, following the trail while avoiding the puddles of mud that were left of yesterday's showers.
Lifting his head to the steel-grey, cloud-covered sky, Snape felt rather sure that it was to rain again soon. The brisk November air smelled of approaching winter and wet leaves. It was not entirely unpleasant, though, for the crisp cool of the autumn breeze that brushed softly through the bare, greyish-brown branches felt reviving on his now parchment-like skin.
"Where are we going?", Minerva enquired as she kept up with the Headmaster, seemingly without the slightest effort.
Severus, however, was having a rather hard time: Although the legs he now was stuck with were long for a woman, they were not equipped with the same strength as a man's. What made matters even worse, much worse, were those bloody high-heeled shoes he now had to walk with. They might not have been particularly high for woman's shoes, but for him who was not accustomed to any heels at all, they were sheer stilts.
Floundering rather than walking, he followed them as they were proceeding towards the village of Hogsmeade.
"Is that a wise choice, Professor?", Severus called after them. "Won't we be overheard all too easily?"
Both Dumbledore and Minerva seemed to have forgotten that he was with them, too, for they came to a sudden halt and turned around to face him. As the Potion Master tried his very best to catch up with them, McGonagall's eyes narrowed impatiently. "Oh dear… Severus! Get a grip on yourself! You're staggering like a drunkard!"
"Why, was it me who chose to wear instruments of torture on my feet? I think my toes might be bleeding by now…", he answered huffily as he finally reached them. Minerva made sure he saw her role her eyes on him before she turned away, heading for the centre of the village once again.
He thought she mumbled something like "Stop being so whiny; that's a mere 2 inches, you could have done much worse" but her commentary was drowned out as Dumbledore raised his voice again: "No, I'm sure we will not be overheard, my dear Minerva." It was impossible not to hear the reminding emphasis he laid on her name.
"As it is around half past noon on a Thursday in early November, I am sure most people will be engaged otherwise, not finding the time to down some met at a local pub." Then, he added with a smirk: "Besides, as a wizard I might imagine you may be familiar with silencing spells?"
Albus was proved right shortly after: When they entered the Three Broomsticks, as packed as the pub was on Hogsmeade weekends, it was nearly deserted on that particular day. One or two tables were occupied all right, but all two of the three wizards were deeply engrossed in conversation whereas the third person, a witch of about 45 years of age who sat in a faraway corner, did not even notice them entering as she was concentrating on the parchments that were scattered on her table.
Madam Rosmerta welcomed them cheerily, however, and she exchanged a few words with the Headmaster before she guided the threesome to their own table, which was situated at the back of the pub.
Upon sitting down, Dumbledore asked for a pint of mead, all the while smiling politely. The landlady nodded before turning her head and looking at Severus expectantly.
"Firewhiskey", the man simply said. He really, really needed the strong drink now, for the shock of waking up in his colleague's body still gripped him to the marrow. He also wasn't sure just about how he was to survive this afternoon if Dumbledore was not to come up with a solution immediately.
Minerva, however, arched an eyebrow on him. "Are you quite sure you should be drinking now? You have got another two classes this afternoon…"
Grudgingly, he clenched his fist underneath the table where she wasn't able to see it. Bloody, overly correct McGonagall with her bloody, defeatist attitude… Why could she never ever let him have a little fun?
"Fine", he hissed between clenched teeth, eying her furiously. "Butterbeer it is."
Minerva seemed satisfied with that answer, for she turned to Madam Rosmerta and said in honeyed tones: "I'd love some Firewhiskey, dear."
Grinning, Rosmerta nodded and went to fetch their drinks. As Severus felt his jawbone drop, literally, Minerva melded innocently: "What? I'm supposed to be you, remember? Also, your body can handle the alcohol much better than mine."
Snape turned to his superior for support, but Dumbledore just sat there, smiling faintly, misty-eyed as if his mind had trailed off somewhere else entirely. So Albus was woolgathering again… He was out of the picture; there was not assistance to be expected from him.
Just as Severus opened his mouth to argue with McGonagall, the landlady returned, caring an old-fashioned tablet with their drinks. When she set it down on the wooden surface of the table, thereby waking Albus from his reverie, she gave Minerva, well… Snape's body, actually, a sweet little smile. "There you go. Just…. call me if you need something. Anything."
She then left, and the Headmaster, who hadn't noticed a thing, reached for his drink and took a long sip. Nobody spoke as he set it down again, waiting for him to speak up.
Observing them closely, Albus' light blue eyes twinkled behind his half moon spectacles. After a few more minutes, the bearded wizard finally opened his mouth to speak, and Severus felt his heart pounding more rapidly with the nascent hope of returning to living his own life in his own body soon again.
"It had to be lasagne-day, hadn't it?"
Severus must have misunderstood him. There was no other explanation. Lasagne? Really? Was Dumbledore being serious? "What?!", he exclaimed in disbelief.
"Things like this always happen when there is lasagne for lunch. I never get to have any. Probably I should ask the house-elves to serve it more often…?", Albus sighed, almost disappointedly. Unbelievable as it was, that old fool wasn't even joking. Continuing his musing, as if he had forgotten the presence of the two teachers, he muttered: "But then again, what if there really is a connection and more lasagne would mean that there were more incidents, too?"
Impatiently, Severus decided that it was time to bring the Headmaster down to earth: "Dumbledore, this is serious! How can you worry about lasagne?!", he said, sounding a little sulky.
Almost disappointed, Albus turned to face Minerva, who ran her pale fingers through the greasy black hair she now had to live with. When he spoke next, one might think that he honestly asked for her support on this trivial matter: "But you, you can see my concern, dear girl, can't you?"
"Although it pains me, I have to agree with Severus on this", she stated drily. "And don't call me 'dear girl', I'm seventy years old and currently stuck in a man's body!"
Dumbledore mumbled a mere "I understand" and for a moment he really did sound disappointed with her. Then, clearing his throat, he called upon Snape to elucidate just what had happened, and he man trapped in McGonagall's body did as requested.
With a small nod, Albus indicated that he had understood after Severus had finished.
Gazing into his drink absentmindedly, he remained silent for a few moments fraught with suspension. "Yes, yes, a very grave situation indeed", he murmured, more to himself than to the teachers. "And you have no idea what kind of jinx it was, I take it?"
Both shook their head. "Not the slightest."
"And you are positive that Ronald Weasley was not the one performing the spell?", Albus enquired.
They nodded in mutual consent. "Absolutely. A second year could not possibly have known such a complex, maybe even dark incantation", Minerva said decidedly.
"Now that I think of it…", Severus added. "His wand has been acting strange ever since the accident with that bloody Muggle car when the term was only about to start…"
Albus nodded, considering what they had said. Finally, he raised his eyes to face them again. "Well, until we find out more, it seems like you are –now how do I put this?– stuck with each other", he punned, tittering to himself while both teachers were staring at him in disbelief.
"Albus, you can't possibly be serious!" Minerva was the first to pull herself together. "If you are not able to help us, who is?" She had jumped to her feet excitedly, and Severus could see different feelings such as anger, desperation and reluctance flash over his own face.
He remained seated, supporting himself against the old oak table. "So what do you suggest we should do now?", he uttered in a resigned way.
What a hard day, his whole body was aching… And Minerva was by far not the youngest witch around, so how on earth did she work so hard and never seem tired at all? In contrast to some of the younger faculty members, namely Aurora and Septima, she had never dozed off during one of their late night staff meetings. How did she do that?
"You keep on teaching, I suppose, or is it a holiday you fancy?", Dumbledore answered, one of his eyebrows arched at Snape's question.
"Well, we can't keep teaching our own classes without having to tell everyone what has happened to us, now, can we?", Minerva snapped in an irritated fashion. Severus looked up to her and they exchanged a quick glance. No, she was right. He most definitely did not want every bloody person in this whole school to know what was the matter. They would never, ever stop teasing them; just imagine Pomona or Aurora! They would rather bite their left arm off that miss an opportunity as excellent as this one.
When they met Albus' gaze, he didn't even try to hide his amusement. "So what do you propose? Slip into each other's role, act as if you were the other person?" His eyes twinkled far too excitedly when he made this suggestion.
"This idea is absolutely and utterly–" Minerva, looking more than just revolted by this suggestion, never got to finish what she was about to say, for Severus interjected: "Brilliant!"
"Brilliant?", she repeated incredulously, "I hardly think so! Couldn't we just use Polyjuice Potion and go back to being ourselves?"
"My, my, dearest Minerva, what a shame! Your knowledge of the superior Art of Potion-Brewing seems severely limited for someone who is supposed to pass for a Potioneer." Severus was gloating. "Polyjuice Potion, my ignorant girl, takes about three weeks to brew, and I am afraid but I cannot wait for so long to get my own body back."
McGonagall's cheeks blazed pink with anger as she grumbled something rather incomprehensible –possibly more Scottish swearwords– before sinking down into her seat again and remarking snottily: "Though it is true that I may not be that skilled now, I was always rather good at it during my school years" (Snape coughed: "Centuries ago") "and besides, I don't recall you being all that brilliant a student. Your Transfiguration grades were always average to poor, if I recall correctly."
With a superior grin, Severus announced: "Ah, true, but I have improved my skills considerably after graduating." Dumbledore nodded quietly in approval, though he seemed a little distracted: When did this thing turn into a contest? Things never ended well when the two of them started competing against each other. Albus watched them without saying a word, obviously torn between amusement and concern.
"As for teaching", Snape continued, "I recommend you stick to basic potions or… Just let them write essays. I don't want anyone to blow up my classroom, least of all you."
Minerva produced a sound that closely resembled a spitting cat. "Fine", she finally gave in, though her stare remained piercing and provoking, "I will do my best not to cause any major damage, but only as long as you do not mistreat my Gryffindors. Though I am very well aware of your aversion for everything scarlet and gold, you are from now on their Head of House and as such it is your duty to take good care of them. Including Harry Potter and every Weasley who is currently attending this school."
Although the mere though of being nice or, at least, of pretending not to hate Gryffindors made him nauseous, Severus couldn't stand that vicious grin on Minerva's face. (Although it was, strictly speaking, his own face, but never mind that now.)
If that was what it took, fine. But he would certainly not let her win this thing.
Keeping his eyes glued on hers, he gripped the hand that she was holding out to him tightly and shook it hard to seal their agreement. "You've got yourself a deal, Minerva McGonagall."
Neither one wanted to be the one to tear their eyes away first, so they just sat there for a few tension-filled moments, until Dumbledore cleared his throat to speak again: "I believe some rules ought to be defined? We would not want you to ruin each other's reputations for the duration of this… role reversal?"
Severus glared at her for a little longer, before giving in to the Headmaster's unspoken demand for peace.
"Fine. Just… Don't do anything I wouldn't do myself, McGonagall", he muttered before lifting his butterbeer to his lips. The sweet drink tasted surprisingly… tolerable, tasty even. "And don't mess with my belongings. Try not to disarrange my office or my living quarters and for Merlin's sake don't be too bloody nice to Gryffindors." And whatever you do, stay clear from the lowest drawer of my nightstand…
But he would not speak that out loud for he did not want to put the idea into her head in the first place. Nevertheless, she stared at him somewhat oddly, all the while smiling faintly, almost as if she had understood. But this was absurd! For all he knew, Minerva's Legilimency skills were about as compelling as her talent as a Potioneer, meaning that she could not read his mind if her life depended on it. Next to him, she snorted inaudibly.
"I can do that. As for me, I guess I have made myself clear enough: be fair and do not mistreat any students. Other than that… "
She left her sentence hanging in midair, as if she were adding something mentally, too. As this had aroused his interest, Severus tried to use Legilimency to find out what it was, but somehow… He did not manage to penetrate her mind, though, no matter how hard he tried. A small, suspicious grin appeared on her lips.
Choosing to ignore her, Severus treated himself to another gulp of the strangely delicious, yellow liquid. As no one spoke up again, his eyes skimmed over the inside of the pub; the cosy furnishing and the wooden floor that squeaked when stepped on, the bar where the landlady was cleaning some glasses in an unperturbed manner, obviously unaware of their former conversation for Dumbledore really must have cast a silencing spell…
"You know, she does seem to like you", Severus' own voice suddenly mumbled.
"What…?" He must have gazed at Rosmerta without noticing it, because Minerva was grinning teasingly when he turned his head.
Unimpressed by his faked confusion, she continued: "If you want me to, I could arrange a romantic little rendezvous for the two of you." Grinningly, she added: "Even if you might not have noticed yet, I am a woman too, you know, I know exactly what she wants to hear…"
"No, don't! Please don't talk to her!" Severus must have shaken his head a little too violently for her smirk broadened. Blushing slightly, he added: "I… I'm seeing someone. Sort of."
"Kinda-sorta unofficially-but-still dating someone, are you really?", Minerva chuckled far too amused, while she got to her feet.
"W-What are you doing?"
"I'm talking to her nevertheless. Don't look at me that way, I'm not setting you up for a date. I'd just like to make sure she knows that you're available if that kinda-sorta love interest of yours doesn't work out." Severus jumped up, too, but she had already crossed the room with a few big steps, leaning over the bar and talking to Rosmerta who laughed merrily. Resigning, he sank back into his chair. That woman could not be argued with…
When she came back a few minutes later, she looked like the cat that took the cream. Literally… Minerva's movements still bore some cat-like elegance when she was stuck in his body. "Mission successfully completed", she purred upon sitting down. "You're very welcome."
Severus rolled his eyes at her, but she just sipped her Firewhiskey contently. Dumbledore's eyes were dancing with mirth as he watched their exchange, though he decided not to intervene.
Setting her empty glass down with a thud, Minerva rose to her feet yet again. "That was lovely. But now I shall go and make some students cry, shan't I?"
I would be delighted to know what you think of this chapter :D
Well then, off to bed...
tbc
