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Dressing the Part

TWO HOURS EARLIER

Albus shuffled his notes, as we all sat either around the kitchen table, or—as in my own case—in the corner of the room, as close to the door as possible.

"Have you any news from Voldemort's camp, Severus?" Albus asked me.

Moody glared at me expectantly. I flinched at both the Dark Lord's name, and the question. News? Like what—that the Dark Lord has taken up bathing with a rubber ducky?

"Severus?"

I cleared my throat. "Ah—no, Albus." Something prickled at the corner of my mind, and because I clearly must be insane, I mentioned it. "There is something though… he has complained frequently about Pettigrew's competency at tea-making, though I wouldn't blame him."

The others around the kitchen table began to snicker. I had to agree with them; I found the entire thing ridiculous myself. Albus nodded at me, and I continued. "The Dark Lord mentioned that he was willing to do…" I paused with disgust, "well, 'anything for a good cuppa.'"

Tonks couldn't hold it in any longer. "Ha! Lord Thingy really said… said, 'a good cuppa?' That's unbelievable!"

Mundungus put in his own two Knuts worth. "Why don't he have you brew for him?"

"Yeah," Tonks continued "You'd think being a Potions Master would qualify you t.. to," she nearly hiccoughed with laughter, "make some tea!"

Ha. Ha. Ha. Aren't they all a bunch of comedians?

I stared at them with a look of contempt that I usually reserve for second-year Hufflepuffs. They promptly got the idea and shut it.

Albus cleared his throat to bring the meeting back to order. For some reason, he wasn't chuckling like the rest of us; that was always a sign he knew something we didn't. "Anything for some tea? We shall have to keep that in mind."

I was not comforted by the look in Albus' eye, mainly because said look usually preceded him asking me to do something unsavoury.

"Any other business? No? Then this meeting is adjourned." Albus stood from his chair. "And remember, as Alastor is fond of reminding us, 'Constant Vigilance!'"

"Don't you forget it!" Moody added gruffly.

With that, the Order meeting was finally adjourned, and I would have been free to leave had it not been for Albus. As it was, I sat in my chair and waited patiently, but I could have done without a nosey one-eyed git staring me down.

Moody stopped in front of me. I sneered as he ran his damn magical eye over me.

Again.

I swear that one day I'm going to accidentally—ah, slip anddrop that eye into a cauldron full of solvent. What does he expect? For me to be hiding the Dark Lord under my robes?

"Yes, Moody?" He fancied himself a Dark Wizard hunter, so I continually found him snooping about me, as if he were waiting for me to trip up. I couldn't wait to see what he wanted this time.

"I'm watching you, Snape," he growled.

I leaned back in my chair and casually balanced on the back legs. "Good to know. If you're watching me, I won't have to worry about loosing myself, will I?" I flashed an insincere half-smile and put all four chair legs back on the ground. It was quite amusing to see a vein throbbing in Alastor's head instead of mine for once. From the way his wand hand clenched, I could tell that he was desperate to hex me, but wouldn't do a thing with others around. However, that didn't stop him from reaching for his wand… and I guess that was my cue to leave.

I stood and headed over to where Albus was standing. "Albus?"

"Severus, I shall meet you in the drawing room, so the others can prepare dinner. Will you be staying this time?"

Staying? He must be going barmy. "I have never stayed for dinner, and I don't plan to start now."

Albus chuckled. "Suit yourself."

oOoOoOo

"You may have heard that Madam Puddifoot has recently taken ill," Albus stated as he looked at me intently. He had prevented me from taking the armchair closest to the door, which was strange, as that was my usual seat.

"Ah, no I haven't." Why should I care? I never go to that pink disaster she calls a tea shop. It came to me that this was a rather inane conversation to be having—what does Madam Puddifoot have to do with anything? She wasn't an Order member, as far as I could recall (and good riddance).

"Her nephew will be taking over her shop in the meantime."

I blinked, still confused as to what this had to do with anything. "Nephew?" I enquired. "I was unaware that other frilly copies of her polluted the earth."

Albus laughed like he knew something I didn't—the twinkle gave it away—and answered, "Yes, and his name is Gerard Puddifoot."

Woo, more useless information. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. "Headmaster, what does this—any of this—have to do with me?"

He cleared his throat and ran his hand over his large white beard. "Recall how you told us that Voldemort would do anything for a cup of tea?"

Of course I did.

"Well, everyone knows that Madam Puddifoot's serves the best tea in Britain."

I gave an incredulous cough. They only served the best tea… if one could stomach the décor, and judging by the look in his eyes, Albus definitely could. There had to be some reason that he was telling me this, but I couldn't fathom what it was. "I don't see where you're going with this."

"From the information that you've given me, I have reason to infer that Voldemort will visit Madam Puddifoot's."

I cringed, not only at the image, but at the implications. "But, Puddifoot's is in Hogsmeade, and the students routinely visit her establishment." I continued on, "Not to mention the fact that the Dark Lord would never go into such a public area, especially one with so many people that he considers unworthy to be wizards."

Albus nodded as if I were a slow child and had finally understood his point. It was a look I did not appreciate. "So, her nephew, Gerard, will be taking over until we can figure out what exactly Voldemort wants."

"And…why does this concern me?" I was tired of this round about conversation.

It looked like I was about to get my answer. I bristled; I had a bad feeling about the answer, as I knew that look. That was the look that came right before I was ordered to do something foul like chaperoning little brats as they bounded through Hogsmeade.

"You, my boy, are Gerard."

No. Oh gods no.

I tensed, ready to bolt for the door—now I knew why he had sat me so far away—but was stopped by a hard look from Albus. Reluctantly, I stayed put.

The corner of my mouth began to twitch at the thought of being surrounded by so many frilly knickknacks. I hadn't been to Puddifoot's since that ill-fated episode in my fifth year, and had no desire to go back. I could only imagine that Umbridge's office had been a pale shadow of that pink monstrosity, and that had been bad enough. This had to be a nightmare. No, no, no, no! He couldn't make me do that, could he? What about my classes? For that matter, what about my sanity?

It was as if Albus sensed my escape route. "You'll only hold this post on weekends, so you needn't worry about it interfering with your classes."

Damn it! That was the only valid excuse I had. After all, no one cared about my sanity. I observed Albus, and as my eyes darted between his smirking lips and his glittering eyes, I realized there was something he wasn't telling me. "There's more, isn't there?"

Albus clasped his hands together and leaned forward. I tried vainly to not squirm in my chair. Then he said what I dreaded most to hear.

"You'll have to dress the part."

Argh!!! This time, I did manage to bolt through the door, down the stairs, and all the way out the front door. I could hear the portrait of Mrs Black as I ran out the door. "Blood traitors! Filthy swine! Shame of my forefathers!"

The door slammed behind me as I dashed down the stairs and onto the street.

This time, he had asked too much.