Written for the snapeaday contest on lj. I believe this was the only entry, and sadly enough, I did not win anything. Not because they didn't like the fic, but because it wasn't much of a contest with only one entry. I'm sure there are some technical inaccuracies, but I was more worried about the humor than the accuracy. But please, if you have constructive criticism, don't hesitate to give it. Nice comments are welcome as well, of course. And obviously, Harry Potter and all related characters and ideas are not mine. Neither is Jerry Springer.
It Beats Making Minimum Wage (But Not By Much)
"You want me to do WHAT?!" Snape exclaimed incredulously.
"I want you to find a Muggle job," Dumbledore repeated calmly. "There's nothing to be done over the summer that I can't take care of, and besides, I think this will help you relate to the Muggle-born students a little better." Dumbledore pulled a roll of parchment from his desk. "I took the liberty of sending around a resume. However, given your relative lack of Muggle skills, only one place would take you, and that's with my glowing recommendation." He tapped the parchment and then handed it over to Snape, who grudgingly took it from him. "Here's the address. Ask for Brian. And tell him your name is Luthor."
"Luthor?" Snape asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Well, I couldn't give your REAL name…"
Snape grudgingly agreed and exited, grumbling.
The next day, Snape arrived in Muggle London and took a cab to the address Dumbledore had given him. The strange look the driver gave him when Snape told him the address made Snape even more nervous than he had been to begin with.
When the cab stopped, Snape got out and handed the man some Muggle money. He wasn't sure how much it was, but it appeared to have been enough, as the driver grinned and took off like a herd of ugly girls was chasing him and he was the last man on earth with a dick.
It was only then that Snape turned to look at his new workplace. He blinked, rubbed his eyes, and looked again. No, nothing had changed.
It still said, in huge neon letters, "Cockteasers."
"DUMBLEDORE!" Snape yelled as if it were a curse (indeed, he wished it was).
A note dropped in front of him and an owl flew off. He picked up the note and read it. "Severus, this was the only place that would have you. Now bloody walk in or you're fired. Yours, Albus." Snape grumbled, crumpling the paper, and headed into the strip club. "Maybe the just need a bartender… or a bouncer. I could do that…"
20 minutes later, Snape was unenthusiastically swinging around a pole and accepting the bills stuffed into his silky black thong.
Snape got through the day with the comforting though of using the money he earned to 1) hire a hit man to kill Dumbledore for putting him through this, and 2) buy lots of liquor and therapy. Snape grimaced as he thought back on his day. 'Okay, forget the therapy,' he decided. 'I just want to drink until I pass out and have no recollection of this horrible venture.'
Meanwhile, the bartender at Cockteasers finished closing up and took a copy of the footage from the surveillance camera. He grinned and apparated back to the Burrow.
"Did you get it, Harry?" Ron asked excitedly.
The Polyjuice potion finished wearing off and Harry Potter stood there, holding a tape and smirking. "Guess who's never getting detention again."