A Cloud Before the Moon

45 - The Invitation

W1 d b m e20s be 150/160 5-10 w/ bj scof tat-snk

Witness 1 describes b[lack? blond? brown-haired? Big-arse ?] male, early 20's, b[lue? brown? black? bloodshot?] eyes, 150-160 pounds, 5 feet 10 inches tall, with

SLAM!

A fist came down on the keys of the old Smith Corona. "I need a drink!" he practically wept, to no one in particular, in fact to no one at all; the other desks were all empty. He picked up a paper cup, stained with the dregs of cold coffee, and raised it in a mock-toast. "Here's to you, Chief Inspector! May your fat carcass grow rotting carbuncles in the festering sewers beyond the gates of Hell!"

In theory, his shift had ended two hours ago. However, an ultimatum had been delivered: hand in a complete set of reports, or hand in your badge. That was why he still sat there at his desk, engulfed in a sea of paper and self-pity. Ten hours and this was the result: a wee two words meaning the same thing! pile of neatly typewritten reports sat on the far right-hand corner of his desk. A huge mass of hastily-scrawled notes flowed from the left-hand corner, sprawling in unrestrained disarray nearly the entire width of the desk.

After a while, the brain stops functioning. His certainly had. He lovingly picked up the slender stack of complete reports, and slipped them carefully in his bottom drawer. Then he opened the top drawer and swept 'The Blob', as he'd come to think of it, into the drawer. Emmet and the others were probably already waiting for him at Mulligan's. Well, not waiting exactly, but more likely, having a few laughs at his expense. He closed the drawer.

Stood up.

And left.

In his flat, Adams took off his uniform and, being in a rather disagreeable and languid mood, headed for the kitchen wearing nothing but undershorts and socks. He pessimistically perused the icebox and canvassed the cupboards, scraping together a highly unappetizing dinner consisting of the remnants of an old tin of pilchards, two stale rusks and a flat beer. Then he sat down to savor this mouth-watering repast. He would have skipped it altogether, except that he was absolutely starving.

As he raised one stale roll to his mouth, he heard a loud crack from the next room. Adams stood up quietly, grabbed his truncheon, and tiptoed around the corner. As he looked into the living-room, his jaw dropped and his nightstick fell on the floor with a clatter. "What in bloody hell are you doing here?"

"Your language is execrable, Mr. Adams. And, I might add, so is your attire."

"I live here. I'll dress however I damn please."

"Suit yourself."

"Yes, well..." he muttered, "maybe I will." He disappeared into the bedroom and returned shortly in jeans and a black sweatshirt. "Snape, couldn't you have just knocked, like normal people?"

"Perhaps, but I suspect you'd have been terribly disappointed if I had." He sprawled out on the couch, as if it belonged to him.

"I had a hell of a time removing those bloodstains - and the rug - hopeless, simply hopeless."

"I've taken care of it, as you can see, and I've brought you this." Snape tossed over two large down pillows.

"A bloody prince, you are! Took you long enough, didn't it? So what is it you want now?" he snapped.

Snape smiled in an odd way that Adams wasn't sure he liked. "I've simply come to invite you to a party."

"A party? Are you out of your mind, Snape? If you're making a party, it better be on account of Norma Jean's all cured."

"Norma Jean?"

"Oh, right - Letha. I still think of her as Norma Jean. And you're just my delinquent little cousin Stephie."

"Right, and we'll soon have to even that score," said Snape enigmatically.

"What d'you mean by that? How is she doing, by the way?"

"Much better, I believe. She is receiving the best care available. Which may not be saying much"

"Say hello for me."

"I can't do that."

"Right - she wouldn't remember me, would she?"

"It's not that." Snape said softly. "I'm not allowed. Not to visit, not to write...."

"Can't you phone her?" asked Adams.

Snape rolled his eyes. "We do not use telephones. If we did, I would not be allowed to do that either."

"Why in bloody hell not?"

"What a mouth you've got!" Snape scolded. "Her Healer believes that Miss Faraday has become too dependent upon me, which is unhealthy. He feels it would be counterproductive in their efforts to foster independence and...."

"What a load of shite! Severus, that girl is in love with you. Now maybe love is a sickness, and being in love with a bastard like you has to be full-blown mental illness, but christalmighty, I wouldn't stand for it."

"Mr. Adams, there are things you do not understand. In my position, you might have the luxury of expressing your righteous indignation; unfortunately, I do not." He hesitated, but continued. "There are times I wish I could switch places with Miss Faraday, erase the past and start anew, though it is not really that simple, is it? Letha said to me, "[Remember, my love] You must be able to live in your own skin. You cannot shed it like a snake." She had no idea...... Many people distrust me. The doctor's rules may be irrational and unjustified, but if I should disobey, I shall surely be blamed for any purported delay in recovery."

"So you decided - fuck 'em all, I'm throwing a party! Is that it?"

"No, you dunderhead, that is not 'it'." Snape glared at him, but there was a hint of amusement in his voice. I am not the host. The party I spoke of is a social obligation for me, a unique opportunity for you."

"Go on."

"The guests will all be witches and wizards of high society. The party is in honor of the birthday of a young child, the scion of, I daresay, the wealthiest and most powerful wizard family in England."

"Really? And what am I supposed to be, the entertainment for the evening? 'Ladies and gentlemen, watch me turn the whatzit - Muggle - into a slug. Then step right up with your salt shakers....!" Adams looked at his visitor, whose mouth had contorted into an odd shape. "Y'know, Snape, there's no law against laughing."

"Good, then I hope you will freely express your amusement at what I am about to tell you."

"And what would that be?" Adams asked suspiciously.

"I am offering you a highly-coveted invitation to a fete at the mansion of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy....."

"Go on."

".....as.....

......my date."

He had misheard. He must have misheard. "You've gone completely bonkers, haven't you?"

"Oh no, I am extremely serious."

"Why the hell would you pick me for this honor?"

"I'm afraid you there was no one else I could ask."

"For a date? That's just sad, Snape, really sad."

"What is sad is that I must hope and pray that you are not a complete idiot, and I have little confidence in that regard. I believe you Muggles have a phrase, 'coming out of the closet'?"

Adams stared at him open-mouthed and then collapsed in a paroxysm of laughter. "I suppose when you hied off to my room with your lady-friend, you spent the time discussing drapery patterns? You're not really a fairy, are you? What the hell is this all about?"

Snape mouthed the words 'drapery patterns' and shook his head in amusement, thinly disguised as exasperation. "This is a very serious matter. Perhaps it was not the best plan to begin with, but I've already set it into motion. Now there is no choice. I must attend this party with my..." he hesitated and then continued in a choked voice, "Irish paramour. By the name of Eamon FitzGerald."

"And who might that be?"

"That would be you, of course."

"Of course. Sure. Knew that was coming. But - why?"

"I assume you recall our friend George Bailey? Since last we met, he has been an involuntary and unwelcome guest in my home. I will soon be able to turn him over to the proper Ministry authorities. I know he will present a version of events in which I am the villain and he is somehow the hero."

"And from what you told me, they'll believe him, won't they?"

"Undoubtedly, except that there is a great man who will vouch for me unconditionally."

Adams snorted. "You'd better watch your back, then. Great men do whatever best serves their purposes."

Snape nodded in agreement. "You are absolutely right. However, the man of whom I speak is a great wizard by virtue of character, not of station, wealth or power, though he has all of those in abundance."

"You're a lucky man to know such a person. And to have earned his confidence."

"I am indeed."

"But what does this have to do with the party?"

"I am getting to that. Mr. Bailey will be most anxious that Lucius Malfoy should learn of the events that transpired, adjusted to suit his purposes. Once Malfoy finds out what occurred, I would fear not only for my own safety, but for yours and Letha's as well. It might also, ultimately cause more far-reaching consequences if..... I think I've already said too much. Suffice it to say, it is very important that Bailey's depiction of events must appear to be utterly implausible."

"Y'know, these people might not be too surprised to find out you're..." He fluttered his fingers. "But as for me..."

"As for you, your role is quite challenging. Mr. FitzGerald, you are a wizard who spends most of your time in relative hermitage at your estate in Dublin. You are a man of wealth and breeding." He paused and muttered, "God help us!" and shook his head. "You while away your time on an unsuccessful attempt to write a great novel. You have no interest in events outside your immediate concerns, and are remarkably ignorant of the affairs of the world."

"If I'm always holed up at my estate in Ireland, how did I meet you, sugarplum?"

Snape glared at him malevolently. "This is not funny! Consider that your very life may hang on your ability to convince a great many people that you are the very person I am describing."

The policeman nodded with great mock solemnity. "We happened to meet at a shop in Dublin called Peckham's, which deals in potion ingredients. We were drawn together by a common interest in the subject. And recently, you, or someone who fits your general description, has been seen about wizard Dublin spending lavish sums, apparently in preparation to attend a social affair."

"Wizard Dublin? Really? Would you find - leprechauns there?"

"I'd rather not say."

"There are; aren't there? This should be interesting."

"Mr. Adams, would you please forget the damned leprechauns? This is very serious. If the ruse is detected, we are in serious trouble."

"Let's see if I have this straight. What you've got in me is an impoverished overworked copper; I haven't been to Ireland since I was a lad in Ulster, and I've never been to Dublin. And I'm supposed to convince the great and mighty Oz that I'm your wealthy gay wizard boyfriend from Dublin? And I might add, we practically look like twins separated at birth!"

"Personally, I do not see any resemblance, though the similarity in body habitus is a happy coincidence. I was able to procure appropriate garments for you, and make it seem that you've been about the town of late."

Adams thought that he best not suggest that, in fact, the resemblance between them was probably in no wise a coincidence. He would, no doubt, have come to know their mutual ladyfriend if he didn't bear a singular resemblance to his new 'paramour'. His eyes flickered over Snape's wand and he decided - no, that would not be wise to mention, not at all. "By the way, Snape, these people at the party - they don't know you very well, do they? I hope."

"In fact, I have known most of them all my life. Our hosts are my cousin and her husband. The guests are mostly former classmates and - colleagues. And my own mother will be accompanying us."

"I see you must have a close family."

"Mr. Adams, you probably know more about me, in some ways, than my mother. And I prefer to keep it that way."

"Ah, Severus, maybe if you had a mummy you could've talked to, you wouldn't have needed to explore alternative lifestyles. And you would've been a nicer bloke."

"Adams, you are not giving me much cause for optimism that we will leave the party as living beings. It will be held on the evening of December the ninth, the child's birthday. Before then, I will try to transform you into a wealthy gay wizard from Dublin." He looked doubtful. "I hope."

"That's very catchy", said Adams. "Let's see...

A wealthy gay wizard from Dublin

Had some habits his soul-mate found troublin'

He had a great yen -

But it wasn't for men -

Um - - -"

Snape added "You might say he kept both cauldrons bubblin'" His eyes widened in astonishment at the realization that the words had popped out of his own mouth.

Davy Adams grinned broadly. "So - the secret is out!"

Snape narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Secret? What secret?"

"You DO have a sense of humor. Even if that line was terrible."

"Well, I hope you will keep that bit of information to yourself, Mr. FitzGerald. We have a lot of work ahead of us."

"We sure do. For one thing, you can't go around calling me "Mr. FitzGerald" like I was the bloody bank president. He put his hand on his chest dramatically, batted his eyelashes and simpered, "Eamon, my love, wouldn't you like to join me under the table?"

The two men looked at each other and, like mirror images, wrinkled their faces in disgust and laughed.

Snape jumped as the phone rang just then, and Adams answered it. He knew it had to be Emmet, heckling him about taking so long. Before picking it up, he asked, "Does Cousin Stephie want to join the chaps down at Mulligan's?"

"Those halfwits? I don't think so, thank you." Before Disapparating, he warned Adams, "You'd better watch how much you drink."

As Snape began to disappear, Adams shouted after him, "Yes, dear!"