His painted fingernails stroked the known glittery material he had hidden in the closet all those years ago. Elegant and provocative thoughts glistered through his mind as he looked at himself in the stained mirror. After the war, he finally got to be Severus Snape, the human being rather than Severus Snape, traitorous slimy git again.
Really, after the whole shit he'd been through, one could fairly well understand that he didn't want to even take a glance at his very own body, because the aging lines and the greying, greasy hair he'd developed did not resemble the lean, but healthy figure he once had at all. So, after making sure everyone was well equipped with healing potions and curse-tending potions and anti-petrifaction potions and other potions Severus didn't even want to think about, he finally retreated from the scene.
Yet, here he was again. Spinner's End – his childhood tragedy in a building. Well, Severus had kept thinking as he entered the house and gazed upon cobwebs and cockroaches, which lay half dead in the muggle sink, it could have been worse. He could've been dead.
Three days spent cleaning the house, two days spent in melancholy over old photographs and another three days spent doing nothing, Severus had had enough.
Enough of being an old imbecile, enough of being a thirty-seven years-old wrack, Severus went searching for one potion recipe he'd never considered actually using. When he'd found it, it was like an angel's call. Severus Snape... please, brew me, you little devil! It could have been the strange fumes, coming from the unrepaired sink, but in this particular moment, the crumpled, yellow-stained parchment seemed to shimmer golden as if it were a ticket to Willy Wonka's chocolate factory.
He fucking loved being twenty-three again. Now, he could catch up on the many youthful years he'd moaned over Lily, hated doing the Death Eater business and cursing Voldemort's existence.
After a while though, after the initial excitement and the long-length wanking sessions, he didn't know what to do. In utter despair and boredom, he'd taken up roaming through the cellar. There was that velvet red trunk, grinning at the man.
Memories flashed through his mind. Memories of him trying on innocent rose lipstick and figuring out how to walk gracefully with his mother's heels.
He'd smirked. Now, that he was in his twenties again...
Severus clad his lithe body in a midnight blue dress and put on the dark wig, before putting a glamour charm on his eyes. Nothing too heavy, just a little light up in order to make sure nobody recognised him. Despite having been far away from the magical world and being de-aged, he wouldn't underestimate crazy people from good ol' times to somehow conclude he was the searched Potion Master and former Headmaster of Hogwarts, Severus Snape.
Tonight, he was Serena Oublie, the long awaited main act. He'd told the old lady who lead the shabby bar he was going to perform in that he, in fact, was the son of famous and well-known drag queen Solstice Oublie (his old pseudonym) and that he'd inherited the raspy singing voice from his... well... father, so to say.
Rosy Darcy had ecstatically hugged him, murmuring into his shoulder that he must be her savoir, God sent, because, according to the old lady, business hadn't been going well since Solstice had left for good. Severus felt strangely touched at that confession.
He had missed it as well. Standing in front of a large crowd, letting his voice dance with feelings of long lost loves, happy bonding moments, cruelty and caressing – it was as if he had been born to do this.
It was the eighth or ninth time he went on stage. There were gaunt faces and murmuring people sat at the coffee tables. This day was Weeping Wednesday, the day every single song was dedicated to sadness, dreaminess and grief.
Severus began singing and the whole room suddenly was quiet. No voice, not a single noise disturbed his performance. The piano played the tune of John Lennon's Imagine. In the middle of the song, the door of the establishment opened and little bells ringing could be heard. Albeit Severus didn't let himself be disrupted, he just continued, his eyelids firmly shut.
When he opened them, he had already finished with the song. His eyes roamed over the different faces and one of them particularly made him shiver. There was Harry fucking Potter. The Boy... nowadays Man Who Lived stared at him as if he'd grown a second head. Although, Severus may as well could have done so as people who weren't common with drag acts held their mouths wide open in an attempt to grab with their feeble minds that he indeed had a penis.
Severus flashed a gloomy, dreamy smile at the audience and Potter shook his head, whatever absurd thought he'd dared to think disappeared as he called the waiter, a fine man dressed in a flannel shirt and plain blue jeans and ordered in a hushed tone. Nevertheless, Severus thought from up here he noticed the man shifting uncomfortably on the chair.
Notes were played again, this time Massive Attack's Teardrop, blending Potter and the circumstance completely out, Severus sang with a higher, almost tenor-like part.
The show was successful, Severus knew the moment he saw Rosy's pink cheeks and the happy smile adorning her ageing face. He didn't want to brag, but he kind of knew beforehand. Rosy lead him to the bar and gave him a shot. Seconds passed, considering if he could allow himself at his age to drink shots... then it hit him. He wasn't thirty-eight. He wasn't an old haggard man. He wasn't a war "hero" (he didn't consider himself a hero anyways). He was twenty-three, just Severus Snape, an actor.
Severus was laughing lightly. Then somebody sat down on his left side. People generally avoided him after a show; they believed it destroyed the magic he'd created with his mere appearance. Severus thought this was bullshit. If anybody wanted to make contact, then they had to communicate somehow.
"So... drag queen, huh?" The question startled Severus slightly. Obviously, he wanted to sneer at Potter. Old habits did die hard, the performer assumed.
So he instead held back and, not wanting to be the rude bitch he'd had to be only a couple of months ago, answered: "Yes. It is a profession I find myself intrigued with."
"You remembered me of someone up there. I believe, if he ever had been content, he would've looked like that." Potter awkwardly scratched his chin and drank the alcoholic liquid in front of him, which Rosy had casually brought him, in one gulp.
Severus said nothing, because Potter already talked again. "I don't know. What is it like? To be out of... I mean... you are, aren't you?" he stuttered pathetically.
Had Severus been the man he'd pretended to be for so long, he would have had great pleasure in urging Harry Potter to tell him what he wanted to and then humiliate his very existence in front of the crowd. Alas, Severus wasn't this man.
"You mean openly gay?"
Potter nodded, his cheeks tinting red.
"I don't go shouting at people's faces that I'm a flamboyant queer, obviously, but everybody knows who I'm going to flirt with at the clubs... so... it's like I don't have to hide myself."
Potter swallowed hard, then said: "They are expecting me to marry that girl, Ginny, and she's really sweet, you know. But I've grown to be more like a brother figure than a husband for her and I've discovered that I don't swing that way. It's just... I think she's deeply in love with me and she's already making wedding plans with her mother and Ginny also talks the whole time about having kids. Not that I don't like children, but after years living with my cousin, I can't stand to even look at them too long..." He let out a shaky laugh and ordered a second round of vodka.
Severus winced sympathetically. Part of his reasons for leaving the Wizarding world was the pressure he'd have to deal if he'd stayed any longer. After all, his name had been cleared and he'd been declared a war hero. What expectations would people have? How would they react to Severus being his artsy, less snarky self? He didn't have any answers when he'd left; the only feel that change in his reputation would happen was absolutely terrifying.
Severus didn't want to consider how it was... being the most famous wizard in Great Britain.
"Sounds horrible, you should tell them or you will be put in a role for the rest of your life. You don't want that and I don't want that, too."
"They are the only family and friends I've left. I can't bear shattering their dreams..."
Fake fingernails clicked on the wooden counter.
"You will tell them, even if I have to hold your hand while doing so. If they are your friends, then they will accept you. If they don't, they aren't worth your time!"
A shaky smile and a charming one met each other. Green and brown clashed together and the evening went on, being a late night afterwards, of talking and getting to know one another. At some point, during the whole process, their lips forced on the ones of the other's and Severus' consciousness blurred.
It may was the alcohol which induced the pain in his head, or perhaps it was due to the fact that he'd fallen on the floor, hitting his head. Murmuring swears, Severus sat up and rubbed the back of his head, feeling a small bump. Well, now it was rather clear why he felt like he had a nasty quidditch accident.
Severus looked up and gazed at Harry Potter in his bed. Wait a minute... Harry Potter – In his bed! "What the heck...?" swore the Potion Master. Potter steered and cracked his green eyes open. Okay, they were rather red than green and looked like he'd cried, gotten beat up and rubbed them for too long at the same time.
"Ouch!" came from both, Severus and Harry, when they tried to stand up. A crude pain in the ass, that was, what Potter was! Also, it was what Potter had given Severus and likewise Severus to Harry.
"What the... you really look like Snape!"
Severus winced. Well, fuck. It had to be discovered sooner or later, he'd have preferred later, to be honest, but Severus sighed and turned his head to fully be able to look at Harry Potter in his bed (he still couldn't grab that bit of information).
"Maybe because I am, you imbecile brat." Severus said, no venom in the last part, only a little bit of defence marring his voice.
Wide eyed, Harry prepared to talk, however no sound came out of his mouth. Then, his face turned from shocked to painful and Severus suddenly felt guilt creeping up his spine. He hadn't told Harry when they had drunk and fucked each other into the mattress. He hadn't told Harry when the younger had laid his head on Severus' chest and cried, letting out whatever pent-up feelings he had had.
"So... you are going to make fun of me, huh? You are going to let them all know how much of a wimp the Great and Mighty Harry bloody Potter is. If that's all you were intending on doing... then why, Snape, why the fuck did you use me?"
"No, it's not what you –"
"- not what I think? What was it then? Some kind of nefarious scheme to pay back for tolerating me in school? What was it?!"
"I don't know!" Severus and Harry panted. Harry pinched his nose, a glimpse of pain and a defeated smile crossed his expression and Severus could not bear it.
"But..." Severus began in a soft tone, standing up and ignoring the pain which shot up his rear, he sat next to the former Gryffindor. "...I would never even think about telling anybody about this. Not because I'm ashamed of this night, Harry, but because you entrusted me with your secrets – not knowing who I really was and letting you know who I am is me entrusting you with my secret."
He stroked that pitch black unruly hair of Potter's and Harry's sob was the only noise in the room, apart from breathing and Severus' clock on the wall.
"Fuck. Damn. You fucking bastard. I hate you, I hate you so much. Disappearing and acting and looking fucking sexy and convincing me to tell them. Greasy git. Crazy bat. Bloody wanker."
Severus laughed. "Likewise, you idiotic dimwit."
Huh, so now it was Harry Potter and him? Severus didn't know how this odd relationship would continue, he merely knew that it wasn't an act what was happening. This was, indeed, the real shit.
A/N: Er... so, I hope you enjoyed reading that little story. I'm neither an expert in writing in English language or the owner of Harry Potter (had I been, things would have gone greatly different...) but if I entertained you, then I'm content. - Narrcissus, the mighty wanker himself