Pairing: Snape/Miss Piggy

Warning: I never thought I would have to warn for bestiality but there you go. It's not any more explicit than any other Muppet Show animal/human relationship. Well, maybe a little.

Notes: Written for the Crossover HP ficathon. I have paid minute homage to a couple of writers whose work pleases me. I hope the tip of the hat is not unwelcome. Many thanks to my talented and patient betas chaoticvanity and youkali. Concrit welcome.

Statler: This show is awful!

Waldorf: Terrible!

Statler: Disgusting!

Waldorf: See you next week?

Statler: Of course.

-----

"Mr. Boardman! Mr. Boardman! Fifteen seconds to curtain, Mr. Boardman!"

Severus Snape, alias Stubby Boardman, carefully reined in his irritation for the hundredth time that day. He was, he reminded himself, a man on a mission. A mission for which he would rip Potter to shreds, but a mission nonetheless. He mentally put on his Stubby Boardman persona, grateful that none of these Americans had ever seen the real Stubby Boardman and that thus he hadn't had to take Polyjuice or wear some other tedious disguise.

"My most appreciative thanks, Scooter," he said, with as much silky evenness as he could manage. Thankfully, the inane little gopher didn't stick around, and Snape was soon left to the peaceful solitude of his dressing room once again.

It's time to play the music; it's time to light the lights…

Strike that, he thought as the theme music echoed in through the walls. So much for peaceful solitude. But at least it isn't currently occupied by babbling frogs and whatnot.

Every one of them that he'd met over the past day was completely insufferable. They were Muggles, of course, which was bad enough, but they were also revoltingly silly. Snape never had thought much of silliness. He'd briefly found a kindred spirit in the one member of the cast who seemed to have some sense of culture and dignity, but he'd lost respect for Sam after seeing how ineffectual the eagle was. For Merlin's sake, thought Snape, I could put this farce to rights with a wave of my wand. Pathetic.

It's time to put on make-up; it's time to dress up right…

Sam had at least been personally inoffensive, which was more than could be said for that damn bear (Fuzzie or Floozy or whatever its name was), or the chickens, or, the worst of the bunch…

"Oh Stubby-poo! My darleeeng! Are you in there?"

Oh, no. A brief look of panic crossed his face, quickly replaced by the smooth mask of polite interest he'd perfected in front of the Dark Lord. He reached deep into his reserves of patience.

"Piggy, my sweet, I am here!"

A satin glove in the most hideous shade of lavender imaginable clawed its way around the doorframe, followed suddenly by the pig's upper half. Snape mentally recoiled at the vision of coquettish pork. She was laden with make-up and tightly laced into a glittery dress that bulged strangely. Snape manfully prevented himself from contemplating the porcine anatomy that doubtless lay underneath. Mostly. Inwardly, he winced again.

Why do we always come here? I guess we'll never know…

The pig bounced into the room, fluttering her eyelashes, and threw her arms around his waist.

"Oh, Stubby, my darling, isn't it romantic?" As her snout was pressed to his chest, Snape felt safe rolling his eyes. Still, he had to play along.

"Of course, Piggy, my love. You make every moment romantic. But if I may inquire - to what, precisely, are you referring?"

It's like a kind of torture to have to watch the show…

She ate it up. "Why, my dear, the way you are going to serenade me, singing your closing number directly to moi. Then everyone will know that we are," she sighed, "in love." The eyelashes fluttered again and Snape braced himself against the breeze. "Isn't it just the most romantic idea?" By the end of the sentence, it was clear she was telling and not asking – a positively Slytherin pig. He knew the right answer.

"Oh, Piggy, my sweet, what a delectable treat you are!" He touched his finger to her snout playfully, trying not to think of the myriad diseases he was doubtlessly contracting. "What a delightful idea."

She beamed. "Excellent. Now, Stubby, darling, I simply must rush off and prepare my ensemble. You know how we girls are." She simpered and Snape's eyes glazed over a bit. She flounced out of the room, winking flirtatiously.

…inspirational, celebrational, Muppetational…

Snape collapsed into the nearest chair and lowered his head into his hands. He hated his life. After a few moments of self-pity, he collected himself again. She'd believed him, that was the important thing. Funny how all the skills he'd developed while bowing to the whims of an egotistical madman seemed totally relevant to his current situation. He had to get close to her long enough to sneak into her mind and find out where she kept it – the last remaining Horcrux.

The pig didn't know what it was, of course; she thought it was merely a pretty silver mirror. The Order, however, knew it to be Ravenclaw's enchanted hand mirror, which they'd traced first from the Dark Lord's original hiding place to the dressing room of an American starlet loved by the adventurer who'd unearthed it. The starlet, in turn, had been swindled of her most important role, her husband, and her fine collectibles by a female con artist, who later in life had gifted the precious object, all unknowing, to a plucky and entertaining pig she met in her travels. As far as he could tell, it had remained in Miss Piggy's possession ever since, and he judged the best way to gain access to her dressing room was through romance. It seemed to be working. Perhaps after a romantic song or two, he could slip in under the pretense of seduction, perform some judicious Legilimency, grab the mirror, and be on his way before he AK'ed the lot of them.

-----

Snape cut short his ruminating as the theme song faded, and dragged himself down into the wings just in time to catch the end of the opening act – Angus McGonagall, the argyle gargoyle gargling Gershwin. Snape's lips twitched at the thought of Minerva doing the same performance. He wondered if there was a relation. The following act was a ballroom scene with ten or so couples or varying species. He noted an unusual number of cows, compared to the general makeup of the cast. Perhaps in America, he thought, cows particularly liked to dance.

"Hooooww do you stop a bull from charging?" asked one bird dancer to its cow partner.

"Take away his credit card!" was the response. All the other cows laughed uproariously. Snape pondered what a "credit card" might be. Some sort of term for the bull's horns and thus, metaphorically, for the reproductive capacity? That would explain the laughter.

Another cow began a conversation as if it were knocking at a door, but without ceasing its waltz. Strange Muggles, thought Snape. The cow's dancing partner seemed to be giving some sort of ritual response, however, so he gathered it was a common formulation.

"Knock, knock!"

"Who's there?"

"Interrupting cow."

"Interrupting cow wh—"

"Moooooooooooooooooo!"

Snape pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose in a feeble attempt to stave off a headache. American Muggles had a worse sense of humor even than those beastly Weasley twins.

-----

Finally the sketch came to an end and Snape was allowed to prepare for his first number. As the orchestra set themselves up, he carefully straightened his jacket and quietly cast a voice enhancement charm. Wizards and witches would notice the falseness of the charm (and thus it was never used by professional entertainers), but the Muggles would never know the difference. The musicians began tuning and he rotated, examining the stage and his range of movement. The orchestra was acceptably tasteful – as penguins they were are least in an approximation of formal dress. As Snape's back was to the audience, he felt a sudden impact from behind and short satin-encased arms wrapped around his waist. He turned and stifled a sigh. The pig again.

"Oh, Stubby-poo, my love, you look tres genteeeeel!" Snape felt a pounding in his forehead begin, but he – carefully – complimented her looks in return. Over her head he caught a glimpse of Kermit in the wings, looking torn between irritation and amusement, and it sent his temper skyrocketing – even the animals were laughing at him! Leave it to a Potter to have found Snape a mission that removed the last shreds of his dignity. He mentally cursed the brat to a thousand years of anatomically unpleasant activities.

"Kissy, kissy!" Piggy pressed herself more firmly against him, cuddling, and her hands slid down to the top of his buttocks. She was almost as agile as that Heffalump... well. The less said about that the better. Snape nearly reached for his wand but stopped short as he remembered the Potter brat's final ultimatum. Even though he'd proven even to the most vociferous of his detractors that Albus' killing had been on Albus' own orders, Potter had irrationally refused to cut him any slack whatsoever.

"I'm not too inclined to be forgiving, Snape," he'd said, trying to look menacing but succeeding only in looking slightly constipated, "so if you can't find the bloody thing, then don't bother coming back. I'll make your life hell." Though the boy was not particularly impressive, his threat had been backed up by an angry Fawkes, which was considerably more threatening. The bird had been giving him shit – a good deal of it literal – ever since Albus had died, and now Snape forced himself to refrain from cutting loose with one of the many hexes at his disposal.

I am the Half-Blood Prince, he thought mournfully. I am in exile. And I am being molested by a pig.

-----

After the too-friendly pig had been carefully manipulated into letting go, Snape pinched the bridge of his nose again. His headache had expanded from its original point above his left eye to throb behind his entire forehead. He waited eagerly for the curtains to open - at least he'd be able to perform the song (a lovely, sedate version of "You Do Something to Me") without interruption, surrounded by only the sound of his own voice.

A moment later, Snape knew he'd spoken too soon. A parade of animals in formal dress joined him on the stage, their voices engaged in yowling warm up exercises. Most frighteningly, Gonzo was one of them. At his pointed inquiry, Kermit would only comment that backup singers added a delightful character to a performance. Before he could object more strenuously, the curtains were swinging open.

Merlin's toenails! he swore mentally, but turned his gritted teeth into a suave smile and began.

Halfway through the performance Snape could take the howling no longer and turned, unconsciously drawing his wand as his rage boiled over. He'd transfigured four of them into nice, decorative, silent plants before realizing his error, but since they seemed to be taking it in stride, he finished the lot with another wave of his wand. Given the talking animals, he thought perhaps Americans were simply more blasé about such things.

When he'd finished the (blessedly backup-free) final verse of the song, the audience burst into delighted applause. Snape's tense shoulders relaxed as the curtain closed. The magic seemed to have been taken for a neat trick, but nothing particularly earth shattering.

A moment later, a shuffling noise to the side of the stage caused Snape to look up. It was the frog, hesitantly approaching.

"Could you, uh, maybe give me back my cast, please, Mr. Boardman?" Snape smirked, but considered it would be difficult to accomplish his mission otherwise – he couldn't perform Legilimency on a plant, and anyway someone was bound to notice if he left them that way. With a negligent wave of his wand, he restored the animals to their normal ridiculous selves. For a moment, there was silence.

"THAT was TERRIFIC!" said Gonzo, eyes wide. "Let's do it again!"

That led to a wave of laughter from the others, and the group began to disperse. Snape peered down at the bizarre blue creature with some concern.

Even in anger, he didn't like to think of himself as careless, and untransfiguring something, even a living animal, ought to have been simple. He examined Gonzo more intensely. "Oh, dear, I have botched this one, haven't I?" he murmured.

"No, he always looks like that," said the dog, and everyone snickered again. After a moment, Snape realized it was true.

What a strange creature. Yet oddly familiar. Perhaps Gonzo was, at base, partly magical – that would explain some of the strange happenings Snape had noticed backstage. He peered closer – a curling nose-type appendage sticking abruptly out of a round face; arms and legs of approximately similar length; a skin covering that was neither fur nor feathers but some amalgam of the two – where had he seen such a description before? After a moment, it came to him: he'd read it in The Quibbler. Gonzo was the epitome of a Crumple-Horned Snorkack! That explained everything. But how had he come to America? They were supposed to live in Sweden.

He pushed away his curiosity. I haven't time for this. I need to see if I can slip into the pig's dressing room. Perhaps the mirror will be in plain sight. He sighed silently as a group of chickens swooped in to cuddle around Gonzo who crooned, "Don't worry, girls – I have enough nose for the three of you!" With my luck, though? Not a chance.

-----

Indeed, the mirror was not in plain sight. As the cast wallowed through Pigs in Space, Snape swiftly rifled through Piggy's dresser, trying to lift the lacy undergarments with his wand rather than his fingers whenever possible. It wasn't there – neither in the dresser nor on the table nor in her large, overstuffed bag. After the first perfunctory search, he moved over to the cracked-open door to check by ear what was happening on stage and grab a breath of fresh air. Snape cast his disdainful gaze over the piles of glittery clothing draped over every available surface, interspersed with obviously used dishes. This place is a pigsty, he thought, then flinched. Slytherin's balls! They're beginning to rub off on me.

Snape's self-flagellation was interrupted by a burst of laughter and the faint but piercing tones of Piggy's voice. He shook himself and moved back into the room, trying to balance a thorough search with a careful eye to replacing things as he had found them. He'd only covered about a quarter of the room, however, when loud applause rippled up from the stage. He slipped quickly out into the hallway and was almost to his own dressing room when he heard on the stairs the telltale clomp of piggish hooves improbably crammed into miniscule stilettos.

"Stub-beeeeee!" she trilled flirtatiously. Snape's eyes glazed over, but he took a moment to reapply his polite face, then turned toward her. The thin strains of "Tea for Two" echoed in from the stage.

"My dear Piggy – "

"Were you waiting for moi? Oh, Stubby, dear, you do not need to hide your adoration. I am used to such attentions." She flipped a mass of hair over one silver epaulette of the bizarre space costume.

If that's true, then I am a hippogriff, he thought, but saw, at last, his chance to maneuver a long moment alone with her.

"Indeed, it is true. I could not resist your charms. Perhaps you will allow me a moment of privacy in which to express my affection?"

She raised an eyebrow and looked at him carefully, displaying a hint of real cunning that surprised him. Snape held his breath, wondering if he'd underestimated her. After a moment, though, the look disappeared and she giggled disarmingly, shooing him towards her dressing room with playful hands.

Inside, she gestured toward what Snape guessed was a chair underneath the clothes, but as she began to turn away he seized both her hands and drew her close, looking into her eyes. Legilimens! he thought forcefully, and felt his probe sink into the dark depths of her mind.

There was nothing there, no thoughts that he could grasp – only the hollow emptiness of a mind fully at rest. Snape panicked.

Could this pig really be a better Occlumens than the Dark Lord? In that case, he was in trouble. Or was it that her brain merely empty in its natural state? That would make his life more difficult, but at least it would not signal a complete failure. She obviously had memories in there somewhere – all he had to do was find them. He delved deeper, pushing through the blackness. But there was nothing.

Piggy cleared her throat and Snape was suddenly aware he'd been staring too long without an explanation.

"My sweet, I wished you to see in my eyes the depths of my feelings for you," he hurriedly began, but she snorted, withdrawing her hands.

"Yeah, right. I don't know what you want, Boardman, but you're not gonna get it from me. A pig always knows a sneak when she sees one." Her eyes narrowed into angry slits and she drew back one arm. "Hiiiiiiii-yah!"

He hadn't seen it coming. The force of her karate chop threw him back against the door and knocked the breath out of him. As she drew back for a second blow, he whipped out his wand.

"Obliviate!"

She dropped her arm and paused dazedly as the magic took hold. Snape knew he had only a few moments to decide his strategy.

If I cannot get the information from her mind, he thought, I must use force. No one has noticed my magic so far; I should be able to get away with it.

Her eyes began to gain focus so he raised his wand again. "Imperio!" Testing the spell, he mentally commanded her to turn around in a circle. She obeyed mindlessly. Excellent.

"There is a mirror," he began, quickly describing the runes Ravenclaw had carved into the silver. "You will bring – " His command was cut short by an announcement from below.

"Everyone on stage for Veterinarian's Hospital!" Snape cursed. The pig needed to be on stage or else someone would come looking. He'd have to delay his plans but keep her under the spell.

"You will go on stage and act normally. When the sketch is over, you will go and find the mirror and bring it to me right away." She nodded, and Snape knew the command had taken hold. He slipped out into the hall, leaving the pig to quickly change into her costume.

-----

A few minutes later he stood at the side of the stage, too tense even to be irritated at the atrocious puns (more cows!) being thrown out. But he could feel the spell holding.

"Doctor Bob, what's wrong with the patient?"

"If I didn't know better, I'd say she's got a terrible case of hay fever!" They all laughed.

Americans, thought Snape derisively. They love this drivel.

"Doctor Bob, why do cows wear bells?"

"Because their horns don't work!"

Snape stifled a groan. Thankfully, the sketch was almost over.

"And so, Dr. Bob has taken the bull by the horns. Tune in next time, when you'll hear Miss Piggy say…"

"This has really been a moooooo-ving experience."

At last, the curtain came down. As they set up again for Snape's last performance (the closing number), he gave Piggy another mental shove with the Imperius Curse and had the satisfaction of seeing her move purposefully towards her dressing room. A-ha! he thought. So it was in there and I just couldn't find it. Thank Merlin.

This time Kermit didn't even try to foist any background singers on him, for which Snape was grateful. Musical penguins were enough. He cast the singing charm again and they began.

"I put a spell on you… because you're mine." He smiled grimly at the audience and concentrated on the thread of the curse as it connected his control to the pig's mind.

"You better stop the thing that you do. I said watch out! I ain't lyin'… yeah!"

It felt strange to be singing such American slang when normally he tried to keep his speech strictly correct. And yet there was something freeing about it, as if he truly were Stubby Boardman, with an audience hanging on his every move.

"I ain't gonna take none of your…foolin' around; I ain't gonna take none of your… puttin' me down, no no no."

It was the type of acclaim he'd always wanted, here in the spotlight, and his thread of control over Piggy dimmed as he briefly considered doing a full American tour as Stubby Boardman for the Muggles, and leaving Potter and the Order to fend for themselves. It was no more than they deserved after all they'd done to him.

"I put a spell on you… Because you're mine. All right!"

He could now see the pig at the side of the stage holding a shiny object in her hands and he pondered whether to simply take it from her now, or wait until the show was over. When he caught the concerned glance from Kermit to the pig, however, he knew he had to act fast if he was going to act at all.

Caught in the decision, he suddenly remembered that both Fawkes and the Dark Lord could likely find him anywhere in the world he chose to go, and that merely assuming a false name would not render him safe from them. Furthermore, there was his promise to Albus to help end the war, and he could not go back on that. He strengthened his resolve as the band went into the instrumental section of the song and some of the penguins began a stately dance step. He sent another command along the Imperius's thread of magic.

"I put a spell on you… because you're mine."

The momentary lessening of his intent must have allowed her to resist the curse, however, for she began to fight the command, swaying in place at the edge of the stage. He redoubled his efforts.

"You better stop the thing that you're doin'. I said watch out! I ain't lyin'."

She took a reluctant step forward, now in full view of the audience. Snape pulled out his wand to enhance the power of the spell; he knew that if he lunged for the mirror, his concentration might break and she would probably get away. No, he'd have to get her close enough to reach for it with his non-wand hand.

"I ain't gonna take none of your foolin' around; I ain't gonna take none of your puttin' me down."

She stepped forward again. Almost there, he thought, straining against her stubborn, piggish will.

"I put a spell on you…because you're mine!"

Finally she took the last step. Triumphantly, Snape belted out the last line of the song, grabbed the mirror with his left hand, and Disapparated.

-----

On the other side of the Atlantic, outside Spinner's End, Snape collapsed again the brick of the alley. He'd been so eager to get away that he hadn't even considered just Apparating to his hotel room. No, he would pass off the mirror to the Order, they'd go kill the Dark Lord, and hopefully he could forget about the whole experience. But first he needed to scrub himself clean of pig germs. Shuddering, he put his wand away and stood, grasping the mirror in both hands, examining it. The carvings were just as had been described to him.

Suddenly, his dark mark throbbed, but not in the familiar way that meant the Dark Lord was calling. Instead it tingled and a strange feeling ran down his arms, almost like magic was being pulled from the mark into the mirror. Frantically, he tried to drop it, thinking that the Dark Lord had placed some sort of security measures on the Horcrux. Was this how Regulus Black had died? But he could not disentangle himself – the mirror seemed almost stuck to his skin. The tingling intensified. Snape wordlessly cast Diffindo, hoping to break the connection, but the magic was merely sucked away by the mirror. The silver began to shimmer and Snape had to look away, afraid to throw any more magic at it.

A moment later, the tingling stopped and Snape's hands came free. He looked down at the object he held, no longer the silver hand mirror of legend.

It was a rubber chicken.

He dropped it like it was a blast-ended skrewt, then stood, wide-eyed, looking down at the object that had cost him so much effort and dignity. Then Severus Snape, feared Potions Master and Death Eater, killer of the great Albus Dumbledore and tormentor of children everywhere, put his head in his hands and wept.