I don't know whether this is humor or horror . . .
It makes me laugh, but when I actually try for a mental image, I shudder. At any rate, don't follow the cut if you're uncomfortable with men in drag or the idea of Lucius/Voldemort.
In Proper Attire
“Some swore he was a maid in man’s attire,
For in his looks were all that men desire . . .”
-Hero and Leander, Christopher Marlowe
Snape stepped back to appraise Lucius’ face critically.
“More rouge, I think,” he said, his eyebrows drawn into one implacable black line. He picked up the little gold tube and uncapped it as he spoke.
“No,” Lucius protested almost despairingly. “I’ll look obscene.”
The color of the lipstick was a dark, almost purplish maroon which would have been obscene even if worn in the most discreet quantities, but Snape disagreed. He broke the continuity of his eyebrows by elevating one skeptically.
“He doesn’t like it when his harlots put on airs, Lucius. He wants you to look like what you are.” He tilted Lucius’ chin up firmly and smeared the lipstick on the edges of his mouth, not bothering at all to color within the lines.
Lucius had no choice but to acquiesce, though the tight corners of his mouth spoke his displeasure quite clearly.
“I suppose you’ll be using the purple eyeshadow again?” he asked, masking his apprehension with disdain.
“No, no . . .” Snape murmured, searching the palette of colors for the right hue. “I don’t know what I had been thinking last time. Purple makes you look sickly. Blue will do.”
Lucius closed his eyes as Snape began brushing the color onto his lids. Snape could have of course used magic to put on all of Lucius’ makeup, but he rather thought that such delicate operations required a more personal touch. His one concession had been use of depilatory potions to render Lucius' skin as hairless as a child's.
“Calm yourself, Lucius. Surely it can’t be as traumatic as a vigorous round of Cruciatus? You’re lucky that you have such a sure path to regaining his favor every time you fall out of it. The rest of us don’t have this option. We aren’t as pretty as you are.” Snape finished the application of cerulean powder and deftly enhanced Lucius’ wispy eyelashes with mascara.
Lucius opened his frosted eyes and scowled at Snape, who would have laughed at the sight of the glowering head of the Malfoy family in a black satin dress which stopped mid-thigh, and from under which peeped lacy white petticoats. His slender, pale hands were encased in black lace gloves through which painted blue fingernails could be seen. And his hair, which Snape privately thought Lucius’ best asset, was neatly plaited into two braids interwoven with silk ribbons in a fetching shade of cobalt.
But mindful that it was never a wise move to offend Lucius, Snape stifled his amusement and motioned for the other man to stand. Lucius rose and did one revolution so that Snape could observe his finished work from all angles. He trembled slightly in his three-inch stilettos, but the inherent grace resulting from twelve generations of selective breeding saved him from an ungainly gait or, heaven forbid, a fall.
Stepping forward, Snape tugged perfunctorily at the Peter Pan collar of Lucius’ dress, ostensibly straightening it. It was a purely symbolic move, a seal of approval.
“Off you go, then,” he said, dropping his hand. “Good luck.”
Lucius was gone with a flare of aristocratic nostrils and a rustle of black satin. His heels clicked out a sharp staccato as he marched down the hall.
At last, Snape was at liberty to smirk, and he did so unreservedly.
Lucius wanted the privilege of leading the raid in the Department of Mysteries. So did Bellatrix and Nott. But Lucius had the androgynous qualities they lacked, and which appealed dearly to the Dark Lord’s tastes. And Snape, who had the necessary, discerning judgment and the skills of preparation, but not the looks to use them on, contented himself with helping Lucius and benefiting from the trickle-down of the Dark Lord’s generosity.
Sometimes he didn’t mind settling for second best. After all, emasculating the proud Lucius Malfoy was a diversion that Snape-and many others-would pay to experience any day.
A/N: Lucius' look is inspired by (but not wholly adherent to) the Elegant Gothic Lolita style from Japan. Below is a picture of Mana, the Jrocker often credited with starting the trend, in all of his EGL glory.
On a semi-related note, I think my lips are addicted to lip gloss.
In Proper Attire
“Some swore he was a maid in man’s attire,
For in his looks were all that men desire . . .”
-Hero and Leander, Christopher Marlowe
Snape stepped back to appraise Lucius’ face critically.
“More rouge, I think,” he said, his eyebrows drawn into one implacable black line. He picked up the little gold tube and uncapped it as he spoke.
“No,” Lucius protested almost despairingly. “I’ll look obscene.”
The color of the lipstick was a dark, almost purplish maroon which would have been obscene even if worn in the most discreet quantities, but Snape disagreed. He broke the continuity of his eyebrows by elevating one skeptically.
“He doesn’t like it when his harlots put on airs, Lucius. He wants you to look like what you are.” He tilted Lucius’ chin up firmly and smeared the lipstick on the edges of his mouth, not bothering at all to color within the lines.
Lucius had no choice but to acquiesce, though the tight corners of his mouth spoke his displeasure quite clearly.
“I suppose you’ll be using the purple eyeshadow again?” he asked, masking his apprehension with disdain.
“No, no . . .” Snape murmured, searching the palette of colors for the right hue. “I don’t know what I had been thinking last time. Purple makes you look sickly. Blue will do.”
Lucius closed his eyes as Snape began brushing the color onto his lids. Snape could have of course used magic to put on all of Lucius’ makeup, but he rather thought that such delicate operations required a more personal touch. His one concession had been use of depilatory potions to render Lucius' skin as hairless as a child's.
“Calm yourself, Lucius. Surely it can’t be as traumatic as a vigorous round of Cruciatus? You’re lucky that you have such a sure path to regaining his favor every time you fall out of it. The rest of us don’t have this option. We aren’t as pretty as you are.” Snape finished the application of cerulean powder and deftly enhanced Lucius’ wispy eyelashes with mascara.
Lucius opened his frosted eyes and scowled at Snape, who would have laughed at the sight of the glowering head of the Malfoy family in a black satin dress which stopped mid-thigh, and from under which peeped lacy white petticoats. His slender, pale hands were encased in black lace gloves through which painted blue fingernails could be seen. And his hair, which Snape privately thought Lucius’ best asset, was neatly plaited into two braids interwoven with silk ribbons in a fetching shade of cobalt.
But mindful that it was never a wise move to offend Lucius, Snape stifled his amusement and motioned for the other man to stand. Lucius rose and did one revolution so that Snape could observe his finished work from all angles. He trembled slightly in his three-inch stilettos, but the inherent grace resulting from twelve generations of selective breeding saved him from an ungainly gait or, heaven forbid, a fall.
Stepping forward, Snape tugged perfunctorily at the Peter Pan collar of Lucius’ dress, ostensibly straightening it. It was a purely symbolic move, a seal of approval.
“Off you go, then,” he said, dropping his hand. “Good luck.”
Lucius was gone with a flare of aristocratic nostrils and a rustle of black satin. His heels clicked out a sharp staccato as he marched down the hall.
At last, Snape was at liberty to smirk, and he did so unreservedly.
Lucius wanted the privilege of leading the raid in the Department of Mysteries. So did Bellatrix and Nott. But Lucius had the androgynous qualities they lacked, and which appealed dearly to the Dark Lord’s tastes. And Snape, who had the necessary, discerning judgment and the skills of preparation, but not the looks to use them on, contented himself with helping Lucius and benefiting from the trickle-down of the Dark Lord’s generosity.
Sometimes he didn’t mind settling for second best. After all, emasculating the proud Lucius Malfoy was a diversion that Snape-and many others-would pay to experience any day.
A/N: Lucius' look is inspired by (but not wholly adherent to) the Elegant Gothic Lolita style from Japan. Below is a picture of Mana, the Jrocker often credited with starting the trend, in all of his EGL glory.
On a semi-related note, I think my lips are addicted to lip gloss.