[Fetch yourself a cookie if you knew where Chechnya is. ]
Severus Snape stood in the WC, staring at himself in the mirror. With a muttered wandless spell, he locked the door, in a rather more permanent fashion than the usual way. With a crisp nod, he started to undress, pulling off the tatty non-descript, shapeless cloak (liver-colored, not black). In its place, he pulled on some swiftly transfigured fishnet stockings, and then slid on a rather formfitting rust-red dress (the color of dried blood - utterly unforgettable). He pulled a packet of emergency makeup out of the messy heap of belongings that had fit comfortably within his cloak. With practiced, sure hands, he set about creating exactly the appropriate impression. Red lipstick, dark eyeshadow, subtle accents on the cheeks to make his cheekbones sharp as a knife. When he was done, he inspected himself with a critical eye - the same one that inspected Potions by color as well as viscosity and legs.** It would do, he thought, as he transfigured a stray pair of lockpicks into black high heels. He paused a moment more, putting a spell-sworn dagger up his offleg (the one without the slit tracing dangerously up his thigh), and then stepped into his high heels. He transfigured a pack of cards into a Tarot Deck, and paged through them quickly, selecting the one he wanted. Finally, he tossed the last of his belongings (a few poisons, his backup wand, and an emetic) upwards, into a darkened corner of the ceiling. Luckily, muggles, like most men, never looked up.
Stepping out the door, Severus Snape put on a deliberately warm smile (despite his crooked, yellow teeth), and let his eyes sparkle as much as Dumbledore's - if far more greedily, as he strolled out of the men's restroom (hopefully no one would call the "woman" on that... they've surely already forgotten the pimply lad who strolled in just to use the loo). It was good to be off the clock. *** Letting his smile widen just a smidge, Snape sashayed towards the darkened corner where the two... schoolchildren were currently discussing the Gryffindor's lack of general good sense and prudence. Both of them glanced over at him at the same time - and both frozen in perfect visages of horror. It took them a level three seconds before they recovered - each undoubtedly reassuring themselves that that couldn't be Snape. That it was perfectly, totally, utterly ridiculous - not to mention implausible - that Severus Snape would be approaching them. Smiling. In a dress. And high heels. The two mad-as-march-hares children looked at each other out of the corner of their eyes, sharing a look of some slight skepticism, perhaps wondering why, exactly, he/she was approaching them.
"Look at the star-crossed lovers! Thrice lost, and yet, thrice found." Snape cooed, the smooth warmth sounding foreign even to his own ears, as he deftly laid "The Lovers" on the table in front of them. It was the card of True Love, after all. Both children started at what he had said, moved to laugh it off, and wound up simply looking at each other - each gesturing the other to get this annoyance to leave.
Snape let his smile widen, "Would you two lovers like a reading? If not for love, then for fortune, luck or plain old-fashioned happiness?"
"Not today," Draco replied, "Future's better if you don't see it coming, eh?"
"You might try your luck at the bar," Hermione chimed in, "They look like they're in need of a diversion."
As Snape strolled off (his hips swaying enticingly), Hermione called out, "S-Ma'-Miss, your card!"
Snape only turned his head to eye her over his shoulder, saying broadly, "Keep it!"
He hid a smirk in his hungry smile at Hermione Granger's querulous, "But how is he going to do a reading without all the cards!"
As he had already predicted, Snape had no luck at the bar, and was only flashing a smile at the old sailor as he left to 'try his luck elsewhere.' Smoothly, he slid into the alley beside the bar. It was the work of moments to extract his hidden belongings, and be dressed in something far more suitable to the outdoors. With only a dash of magic, he laid creases on his face, looking not so much older as more weary - and a transition of his hair into half-silvered, alongside hazel eyes, completing the look. Severus Snape, looking more like he often felt, strolled across the street in dapper business garb, settling in behind a paper on a sidewalk table. When the waitress appeared, he ordered coffee with a generous tip. After all, it was likely he would be here awhile. Crossing his legs, Snape settled in to keep a keen eye on his two students in the bar across the road.
**legs is a wine term. look it up!
***Snape-speak for he's not currently obligated (read being paid) to shake the everliving stuffing out of the two nitwits.
[a/n: yes, the dress does actually have some padding up at chest level. No, it's not huge, neither did Snape find it worth noticing nor mentioning.
If you like it, write a review. If you consider this completely implausible, may I remind you that Snape is a spy? Just what did you think spies did, anyway? They know perfectly how to fit in, even in odd situations. Snape's just chosen a bit of a character to play (That being Gypsy Fortuneteller of Possibly Ill Repute, in case it's not perfectly clear).
And, for those not paying attention, yes, that does mean that Snape is being deliberately... provocative. He could have dressed as a sweet little 16 year old girl (complete with glamoured face), and had no one be the wiser that he had been there at all.]