"I'm sorry Minerva, you want to what?"

"I want to address the haggis. Actually, I would like to pipe it in."
"You want to pipe in a haggis?" Severus asked incredulously, wondering if she had finally lost it. She must have, surely?"
"Aye, laddie! It's tradition!"
"A tradition we've never followed in all the years I've taught here?"

"Aye, well. It's tradition nonetheless and it's high time we brought it back! We live in a bloody castle in Scotland after all." she replied stubbornly.

Severus sighed, "Minerva, why are you telling me this?"

"Oh, did I not say? Albus has already agreed, I just need someone to carry the haggis."

"No." he replied flatly.

"Ocht nonsense, Severus! It'll be grand. You can carry it in and I'll pipe behind you."

"No. Do you hate me Minerva?"

"Actually, if I think about it, we'll need five." Minerva paused, looking contemplative." Well we'll just need to ask the House elves. They could come in behind you with some for the student tables. You'd need to do a circuit to make it worthwhile and then, you've such a lovely voice when you're not traumatising the students, you could address the haggis."

Severus gaped, his mouth opening and closing several times with nothing coming out.

Finally he managed something coherent. "You want me to walk into the Great Hall carrying a fucking haggis, with a gaggle of House elves behind me like wrinkly little ducklings and do a fucking circuit so that just in case any student hadn't been able to directly witness my humiliation, I ensure they get a good look? Not only that, you then want me to what…..talk to the damn thing afterwards? Minerva, I will ask again, do you hate me?"

Minerva smiled benignly up at him and patted his cheek. "I'm so glad you're on board my boy. I'll be sure to let Albus know."

For quite possibly the first time in his life, Severus' brain took a holiday in the face of Minerva's increasing madness and he couldn't vocalise his retort.

He stood holding the fucking haggis on a silver serving platter outside the doors of the Great Hall wondering how the fuck he had ended up here. Dear gods he was going to fling this thing at any of the little sods who thought it was wise to laugh. He had made the mistake of asking Minerva what exactly was in a haggis. Needless to say he wasn't sure he was hungry any more.

A trail of house elves were standing behind him which he was trying very hard not to think about. He could only imagine the picture they made. Minerva was making a horrendous noise that she had assured him was not actually what she intended to play and was merely her warming up. Dear Gods he hoped she was telling him the truth.

The noise appeared to even out into something more palatable, as Minerva gave him a small shove, sighing, wondering yet again how he had ended up here, he strode into the Great Hall with as much dignity as he could muster, completing the circuit around the House tables with his gaggle of house elves. He wasn't sure, but he thought his robes might have billowed excessively when he was turning the corners and slapped the nearest one in the face. Oh well. Thankfully the students seemed too stunned to laugh. He reached the top table, glowering at Abus who was twinkling merrily at him as if it was perfectly reasonable to serenade one's dinner and parade it around the room.

Minerva ceased her noise once she had arrived behind him and nudged him none too gently, while clearing her throat pointedly, Fucking Salazar, there had better be whiskey with this monstrosity. Lots of fucking whiskey. In fact, for this, he was stealing Hagrid's mug. It would hold at least a bottle surely?

He cleared his throat and looked down at the unappetising lump in front of him,wondering if Minerva would allow him the whisky before he had to talk to his damn dinner. Probably not, it was probably best to just get it over with. Quickly. So he began.

"Fair fa' your honest, sonsie face,

Great chieftain o the puddin'-race!

Aboon them a' ye tak your place,

Painch, tripe, or thairm:

Weel are ye wordy o' a grace

As lang's my arm…."