Shampoo

Chapter Five - Snape's Bad Hair Day

Snape was not happy. He crushed the parchment in his fist angrily, but the words had burned themselves into his brain.

"S. Saw your article in Witch Weekly. Did not realize you aspired to a career in modeling. Believe you may have outlived your usefulness due to newfound popularity. Also not certain Lucius will appreciate your not-so-secret fling with his wife. Will ponder your situation. Until then, consider yourself on probation. V."

Snape incinerated the message in his fist. To top it off, the damned thing had been delivered by owl in broad daylight. Snape might as well get some gold thread and embroider "Voldemort's Man" on the back of his robes. He poured himself a shot of firewhiskey and gulped it down. That stupid article in Witch Weekly... He glanced guiltily at the heaping pile of fan mail that had arrived in a steady stream since then. From lonely, desperate witches, mostly. And a few wizards. And one letter with handwriting that looked curiously similar to Filch's. Snape preferred not to read that one. Just in case.

Theo Nott knocked on Snape's door, although it was already open.

"The Headmaster wants to see you right away, Professor."

Snape sighed, but stood up and straightened his forest green robes. He checked his perfect hair briefly in the mirror and sauntered off to meet with Dumbledore.

The Headmaster was sitting behind his desk with eyes shut behind steepled hands. He looked deep in thought. Or asleep. Or possibly dead.

Dumbledore's eyes snapped open. Snape scowled. No such luck.

"Ah, Severus," he said. "Severus, Severus, Severus, Severus, Severus."

Snape gritted his teeth. He hated it when Dumbledore did that. Really hated it. He narrowed his eyes and waited.

"It has come to my attention that Voldemort has begun to question your usefulness as a spy."

Snape could not conceal his surprise.

"Do not be surprised, Severus. I have many sources of information. Did you think me simply a bumbling old fool?"

Don't say it don't say it don't say it.

"I'm afraid that if Voldemort releases you from his service--and you survive, of course--that I will be forced to release you from mine, as well. One cannot be a double-agent without first being an agent, now can one?"

"Are you threatening me?" Snape asked venomously.

Dumbledore laughed as if heartily amused and his eyes twinkled merrily over spectacles Snape knew were entirely useless. The bumbling old fool used them only to make himself appear wise.

"Severus, Severus, Severus, Severus, Severus," he repeated. Snape closed his eyes at the onset of a migraine. "Of course I'm not threatening you, dear old friend. I'm merely suggesting that you consider your position with care. Great care."

Great care. Right. At that moment, he wished he could turn both Voldemort and Dumbledore into cats. He would soak them both down with water. And toss them into a burlap sack. And hang the sack over a bubbling cauldron of liquid death, just in case one managed to claw its way out... Snape smiled broadly at the thought.

"Severus, you do recall that I am a skilled Legilimens?" Dumbledore asked in a voice heavy with disappointment. Snape's grin vanished. The old bastard sucked the fun out of everything.

"You may go," Dumbledore said with a sigh. Snape stalked gratefully toward the exit.

"Oh, and Severus," Dumbledore added, "Do try and be more circumspect with your teacher/student relationships. I realize the temptations can be... extreme at times, but I would prefer not to receive any owls from enraged parents."

Snape's jaw clenched in unison with his fists and he stomped out with no reply.

Circumspect. He'd like to see Dumbledore be "circumspect" with Pansy Parkinson jumping out of every dark cranny, clamping her lips on his and trying to tear his clothing off. Circumspect, hah!

The thought of Pansy made Snape walk cautiously in the dead center of the hallway while scanning every possible hiding place. The girl was getting trickier. Just yesterday she had popped out of an urn that Snape would have sworn she couldn't have fit into...

When he reached the dungeon steps and started down, he breathed a sigh of relief. He was almost to the safety of his office. The thought had barely registered when a pair of arms wrapped around his legs and sent him flying headlong down the stairs. His head cracked sharply on the bottom step and he ended in an ungainly heap at the foot. A warm body climbed atop him.

He couldn't focus through the stars that swam across his vision. Two hands pressed against his cheeks.

"Oh, my poor, poor Sevvie," someone crooned. "Did I hurt you? Let me kiss it better."

Soft lips clamped onto his and the momentary numbness wore off as pain exploded through his head. Though he could scarcely think through the blinding pain, he groped in his robes for his wand. He managed to extract it and touched his attacker with the tip. The spell was necessarily wordless, but still effective. The girl shrieked and released him. She scooted back several feet and looked at him accusingly as he sat up and put a hand to his aching skull. Astonishingly, there was no blood, just a lump the size of a duck egg and growing.

"That was hardly fair," Pansy said accusingly.

"You call it fair to tackle me on the bloody stairs?" he snarled. "You could have broken my bloody neck! As it is, you nearly split my head open!"

"Well, you keep avoiding me," she pouted.

"I'm twice your damn age! I went to school with you mum, for pity's sake. Do you have any idea what your parents would do if they saw you carrying on like this?"

She tossed her black hair.

"I don't care. I'm nearly of age. Soon they won't have any say in what I do."

"Well, you're not of age, yet. Can't you leave me be? I thought you were Draco Malfoy's girlfriend."

Pansy sniffed. "Not really. He just likes to be seen with me because I'm the prettiest girl in Slytherin. When we're together too long, we argue mercilessly. We're too alike. Both of us go for the jugular. We'd most likely kill each other, eventually."

Snape rubbed his sore head and nodded grudgingly at her words. She was pretty astute for a child. He glanced at her through hooded eyes. Although she wouldn't be a child much longer. She really was the prettiest girl in Slytherin with her raven-dark hair cut in a shoulder-length bob and thickly lashed eyes the same shade. Her upturned nose was awfully cute...

Snape shook off the thought angrily. Circumspect, remember? He sighed.

"Nevertheless, you must stop leaping out at me," he ordered and got to his feet. His surroundings swam sickeningly for a moment and he swayed. He felt her arms go around his waist tightly.

"Here, let me help you," she said. "No, don't fight me; I'm not going to kiss you. Yet. Just lean on me until we get to your office."

Snape sighed and relented. Once there she retrieved a headache-easing potion for him and made him a cup of strong tea. When he was comfortably seated on his couch with fluffed pillows, she removed his boots.

"Would you like me to massage your feet?" she asked.

"No, I would like you to leave."

"Fine. Damn you, anyway!" She flounced out.

Bloody hell. He missed her when she was gone.