A Snape Is For Life

Chapter 10

By Shiv

The nice thing about Pansy Malfoy nee Parkinson was that she knew how to bear a grudge. She wasn’t fussed whether revenge was a dish served hot or cold, as long as it came in double portions.

Pansy had a little black book with a difference. Not for her the Floo details of young men (or women, depending on the mood). Oh no; her little black book contained the names of all those who had annoyed, irritated or otherwise crossed her. Harry and Ron were by no means top of the list, but she was prepared to be flexible and take the opportunity to stitch them up like a kipper, even though it wasn’t really their turn.

She’d replied to his note with commendable promptness, agreeing that they had a common interest in seeing that the Terrible Two got their comeuppance. Hermione had conveniently returned to her room to find fresh clothes; the ballgown she had been wearing the night before, whilst attractive, was hardly suitable for luncheon. He’d taken the chance to slip away to find Pansy, and put the first stages of his plan into operation.

Pansy certainly held a grudge against the boys.

“It was bad enough that that grubby pair suggested a threesome in the first place,” she said indignantly. “As if I’d be interested in either of them. But then to spread the rumour that I’d only refused because Ron turned up alone is appalling. Whichever way you look at it, I come across as a desperate slapper.”

“At least a slapper with taste,” Severus said, fanning the flames under the guise of sympathy. “Turning someone down because they have ginger hair does seem a reasonable response to me. I do wonder how Mr Weasley manages so well with that handicap.”

Pansy twitched; the shot hit home. “So do I. I wouldn’t put it past either of them to be boasting about conquests they haven’t actually achieved. Ronald could still be a virgin for all we know.”

“They really are an awful pair, and nothing they’ve done since leaving school has changed my mind,” Severus replied. “A gentleman would take rejection on the chin, or anywhere else a lady chose to offer it.”

“They certainly don’t qualify as gentlemen,” she said. “I only managed to prevent Draco from doing something foolish by pointing out that I was the wronged party, and it was for me to seek my revenge. You can imagine the field day the Daily Prophet would have with that: ‘Son of Notorious Death Eater attacks The Boy Who Lived Twice’. We’d never hear the end of it.”

Severus frowned. He didn’t like to be reminded of Potter’s celebrity status. Anyone would think that he’d taken on Lord Voldemort single-handed and the rest of the Order had been merely window dressing. Where would Potter have been without his spying skills, to take one example, plucked out of the air entirely at random. Dead, that’s where.

It would be a positive pleasure to display Potter’s feet of clay to a wider audience, but how was this to be accomplished.

Pansy had several interesting ideas. He did think that photographing the pair of them in a compromising position with a goat, and threatening to publish, was a step too far. Especially for the poor goat.

It did give him an idea though, and idea of almost intoxicating loveliness.

“I’ve always thought that the way that pair carries on is their desperate attempt to come to terms with, shall we say, a more deep-seated problem,” Severus said, testing the waters to see if this idea would float. “They’re trying too hard, don’t you think?”

There was a significant pause whilst Pansy considered the suggestion, and assessed the likelihood of persuading the Wizarding World of the possibility that the rampant, almost obsessive, heterosexuality of the Terrible Two was nothing more than a thin veneer obscuring the true nature of their orientation.

“No one would ever believe it,” she said regretfully. “They can’t dance.”

“They’re in denial,” Severus reposted.

“They have no dress sense.”

Severus couldn’t deny it, though, as someone who prided himself on his attention to his attire, he wasn’t entirely happy with the implication that only gay men were well dressed. “That is true, but that can be explained as part of their heterosexual camouflage. A determined effort to blend in.”

“All they’re interested in is Quidditch.”

“A game played by athletic, sweating men which provides them with the perfect cover to bathe communally and admire the rivulets of water trickling down over pink, firm flesh.”

“Hmmmm.” Pansy mused lovingly on the picture presented to her, but then recalled her attention to the matters in hand. “I suppose that would work, though it would have to be delicately handled. It’s no good either of us going round alleging that they’re gay. It’d be dismissed as sour grapes, especially on my part.”

“Indeed, no. I was thinking more along the lines of us denying the rumours…”

“Obviously there’s no truth in the rumours, Dean,” Pansy addressed an imaginary target. “I don’t think you have a thing to worry about in the changing rooms. I know some people say there’s no smoke without fire, and it’s a little odd that neither of them have managed to hold down a proper relationship, but really, I’m sure that it’s all just a silly misunderstanding. After all, lots of boys spend time together, and it doesn’t mean a thing, does it?”

Chapter 11 >>