Severus Snape folded his arms across his chest and curled his lip in disdain.
"No," he stated firmly, "absolutely not."
Remus Lupin sighed deeply as he cleaned his glasses on the sleeve of his robes. A lesser man would be put off by the Potions Master's defiant stance, but he had dealt with Snape's volatile personality since they were children. Where once he may have been discouraged, he was now merely annoyed. He gingerly placed the spectacles on his face and donned a pleading look.
"Please,"he begged, lifting a piece of clothing from the bed that stood between them, "for me."
Severus narrowed his eyes at the offending garment and sighed.
"Stop giving me that look," he growled, sitting down on the bed with a thump.
Remus grinned and sat down as well, letting his glasses slide forward on his nose.
"Why?" he asked impishly, "because it's working?"
Severus didn't respond, and glared at the cloth that Remus was currently smoothing out on the rumpled bedspread.
"It's not that bad is it?" the werewolf asked, pushing his glasses back. "It's black," he added, "you like black."
Severus didn't reply and merely poked at the woolen garment with an almost childish look of grouchiness.
"Do Muggles really wear these?" he asked, picking it up. He looked almost frightened to inspect it more closely.
"Of course they do," Remus assured him, shifting closer, should more persistent means of persuasion be necessary.
Severus frowned and cast his companion an angry look. "I don't see what is wrong with my robes, Lupin," he said, bringing the garment closer for inspection.
"This is Muggle London, Severus," he stated in an exasperated fashion, leaning against the headboard, "you'll stick out like a sore thumb."
Remus, who had been dealing in magical antiquities since leaving Hogwarts for the second time, had set up a meeting with something of a suspicious character claiming to have a dark artifact of certain mysterious properties in his possession. Sensing that the man was not being entirely honest with him and a bit put off by being asked to meet in a Muggle pub, he had asked Severus to accompany him should something go wrong.
Severus gasped and threw the item of clothing at Lupin, who looked baffled.
"What?" he asked, picking it up and inspecting it.
"There are pink threads in that horrid rag, Lupin," he shouted, standing up with a wild look. "Pink!"
"Are there?" Remus asked, adjusting his glasses and examining the garment. "Ah, so there are."
"I am not wearing that thing, Lupin," he barked, pointing a shaking finger at the werewolf, who attempted to hide a smile.
Remus stood up and made his way quickly to Severus' side.
"It's a pub, Severus," he reasoned, "it will be dark. And no one is going to be looking at your… threads," he finished with a sigh.
"It is a matter of principle," Severus stated boldly.
Remus pinched the bridge of his nose and muttered something that sounded like "insufferable old bastard." He grabbed Severus by the hand and put the garment in it. He looked imploring at him. "Please Severus," he said with a note of exhaustion, "just put it on. I am going to be late." He moved his hand up the Potions Master's arm and let it rest on his shoulder. "Please?" he added, for good measure.
Severus looked down at the cloth in his hands and up at Remus.
"God damn and blast you, Lupin," he swore, and walked across the room to a tall mirror. He unbuttoned his coat, slid it from his shoulders and threw it, a bit harder than necessary, onto the bed. "I don't see why I can't just wear a shirt and trousers," he grumbled, looking in the mirror. Certainly Muggles wore white shirts and black trousers, he thought.
"Because you need to carry your wand," Remus replied, pulling a pair of trousers out of a closet, gazing at them with a thoughtful look. "You can tuck it under that thing," he finished, shimmying into the cinnamon colored trousers.
Severus placed the garment over his head and began to pull it down. "And why can't I carry it in my pocket?" he asked, disgruntled, apparently trapped within the vestment's woolen confines.
"Well, that would be a bit conspicuous, don't you think?" he said, "I don't want this fellow to know you're with me. Nor do I want the ladies asking you if that's a wand in your pocket all night." He tucked his shirt into his trousers and slipped on a brown cardigan.
He turned around to face Severus and burst into laughter. He tried to pass it off as a cough, and attempted to hide his grin behind his hand. He was entirely unsuccessful, and Severus scowled.
"Lupin," he growled, turning to look at Remus, "what the hell is this thing?" He turned back to the mirror, smoothing the black wool underneath his pale hands, muttering under his breath.
Remus composed himself to answer. "I believe," he began and stifled another bout of laughter, "I believe it's called a sweater-vest, Severus." He walked over to the dark haired man and pulled on the hem of the sweater, attempting to make it lay flat. Severus brushed his hands away with a frown and looked at himself in the mirror. The sweater-vest was more than a little short on his tall frame, and the grey argyle pattern did nothing to improve his slightly neglected figure. The pink threads, Remus thought, were the least of his troubles.
"It looks… fine Severus," he lied and reached up to fix his collar.
"You are a liar, Remus Lupin," Severus stated, allowing Remus to fuss over his shirt, "and a poor one at that."
"Well," said Remus lamely, "it's just for a few hours, Severus."
"And I plan on destroying this… atrocity as soon as those few hours are over," Severus grumbled.
"Perhaps I can assist you," Remus offered with a playful grin, wrapping his arms around Severus' waist.
A smile tugged at the corner of the Potions Master's mouth. "Perhaps," he whispered, placing a hand behind Remus' back and kissing him lightly on the neck.
-----------------------------
Four hours, and several pints of beer later, one antique silver necklace, charmed to slowly tighten around the wearer's neck, lay haphazardly on a bedside table, alongside Remus Lupin's wand and glasses. On the floor among a twisted pile of trousers and shirts lay the black wool sweater-vest, which, much to Severus' pleasure, had been ripped cleanly in half.