Fanfiction: "Nights Like This"
So this is me being slightly silly. Actually this started out as a contest entry for the HP Lexicon, but I decided that it was too...er...well, not appropriate for that forum. Haha. It's a song-fic...don't read if you don't like them.
Title: Nights Like This
Author: Didi (pyrogrl)
Rating: PG for subject matter
Genre: Humour(ish)/General
Warnings: Er...cross-dressing. Ish.
Song: "Wig In A Box" from Hedwig And The Angry Inch
Characters: Severus Snape
Summary: An angsty teenage Severus Snape finds relief in becoming someone else.
Anything else: Constructive criticism is welcome. As I said, it's me being slightly silly with a character so straight-backed that this could never possibly happen. I had fun with this fic, actually. Un-beta-read. If you're interested, let me know. :)
I get down, I feel had
Feel on the verge of going mad
One of these days, Severus would get back at Potter, Black, Lupin and Pettigrew. One of these days he’d show them that he was a force to be reckoned with. He’d challenge them to a duel and pick them off one by one. One day they would shudder to say his name. One day they would fear him. They would regret every time they called him “Snivellus”. They would regret using his own spells to pick on him.
But not today. It could be years before he finally got his revenge. But now, tonight…tonight he would let go of all of his anger and frustration and enjoy an evening the only way he knew how. Tonight he would become someone else, if only for a few minutes. Tonight, he would not be Severus Snape.
On nights like this
When the world’s a bit amiss
And the lights go down
He was alone in the Slytherin common room, sitting on a chair with his feet crossed on the coffee table in front of him. Everyone else was at dinner. He had only an hour, maybe less. He really should hurry, but he decided to take his time. It was better that way. He ran his hands through his hair, which was always greasy no matter how much he washed it. His father - his filthy Muggle father - had been cursed with greasy hair and passed the trait down to his son. He twirled a strand through his fingers, feeling it retain its curl. Pulling out his wand, he muttered a spell to darken the common room. It was barely lit by a few candles suspended four feet above his head.
Perfect. He smiled to himself. He lifted his feet off the table and placed them on the floor. Slowly he reached for the box that sat on the table, seeming to beckon him towards it. He had stolen the box from his mother years ago and it had a horrible picture of an antique teapot on it (she collecting teapots) and Severus detested it. The teapot was ugly, but the item inside its box was beyond beautiful. He lifted it out and held it up from underneath, scared to mess up its perfection.
And the strangest things seem suddenly routine
I look up from my Vermouth on the rocks
The gift-wrapped wig's still in the box
Of towering velveteen
It was a wig. It was black and sleek and the same length as his own, but it wasn’t greasy. It was clean, scattered with ringlets that added volume and texture. If anyone who had never laid eyes on it before were to look at it, they would think it was brand-new and had never been worn. The truth was, Severus simply looked after it exceptionally well. He placed it back on its stand in the box, then pulled a hairnet out from the inside corner and covered his hair with it. He resisted the urge to put it on right away. He had to savour each moment.
I put on some make-up
Turn on the tape deck
And put the wig back on my head
Suddenly I'm Miss Midwest Midnight Checkout Queen
Until I head home
And I put myself to bed
Severus felt his skin and didn’t shudder from the touch. The years would turn his flesh oily and clogged, but for now it was soft, clear, and was the only thing that showed his youth. His cheekbones were well-defined and had his face filled out a bit more, they could almost have been attractive. His nose was crooked and abnormally large, as his father’s had been, and his lips were thin and cracked, and a shade so red they could either be feminine or bleeding. The only feature Severus liked was his eyes: they were large, so dark they could almost be called black, and he had long, feminine eyelashes.
He pinched his cheeks, bringing a bit of colour into them. He picked out anything underneath his long fingernails and stared at them for a few moments, thinking that they could have been filed nicer. Oh well, there was no time for that tonight.
Severus flicked his wand, hoping to conjure himself a pair of black evening gloves to cover his hideous, vein-y hands. He was new to conjuring items, so all that appeared was a pair of fuzzy black mittens. He sighed to himself and made-do, placing them on his hands and imaging they were evening gloves. He licked his lips, giving them a shiny appearance, and with his fingers he brushed his eyebrows into place and separated his lashes to the best of his ability. He sat forward in his chair and pulled his robes tighter around his chest and waist, tying the excess into a knot in his back.
And now.
Now, at last, it was time for the wig. He reached for it delicately, holding it above eye-level and examining it from every angle.
Some girls, they got natural ease
They wear it any way they please
With their French flip curls
From perfumed magazines
Wear it up, let it down
This is the best way that I've found
To be the best you've ever seen
He placed it on his head, shutting his eyes and simply feeling his way. He adjusted it slowly, placing almost every strand where he wanted it. When he was done, he sat very still, eyes still closed, barely breathing. As soon as the wig was placed on his head, he felt a change. He was no longer Snivellus, a seventh-year Slytherin who fancied the Dark Arts and was in constant battles with the Gryffindors. He was someone entirely new, someone so far from Severus Snape that as he opened his eyes he thought he saw the Slytherin common room change into another room entirely. He could almost hear some sort of rock music playing in the background. The room brightened and the music’s volume increased, and he began to sway to it. He was in some sort of nightclub, and he didn’t care if it was a Muggle one or magical one. He felt, for the first time in his life, content and happy with himself. He had no worries. He had nothing and no one to fear.
I put on some make-up
Turn on the eight track
I'm pulling the wig down from the shelf
Suddenly I'm Miss Punk Rock Star
Of stage and screen
And I ain't ever
I'm never turning back
Oh…bliss.
FINIS
Your thoughts?
Title: Nights Like This
Author: Didi (pyrogrl)
Rating: PG for subject matter
Genre: Humour(ish)/General
Warnings: Er...cross-dressing. Ish.
Song: "Wig In A Box" from Hedwig And The Angry Inch
Characters: Severus Snape
Summary: An angsty teenage Severus Snape finds relief in becoming someone else.
Anything else: Constructive criticism is welcome. As I said, it's me being slightly silly with a character so straight-backed that this could never possibly happen. I had fun with this fic, actually. Un-beta-read. If you're interested, let me know. :)
I get down, I feel had
Feel on the verge of going mad
One of these days, Severus would get back at Potter, Black, Lupin and Pettigrew. One of these days he’d show them that he was a force to be reckoned with. He’d challenge them to a duel and pick them off one by one. One day they would shudder to say his name. One day they would fear him. They would regret every time they called him “Snivellus”. They would regret using his own spells to pick on him.
But not today. It could be years before he finally got his revenge. But now, tonight…tonight he would let go of all of his anger and frustration and enjoy an evening the only way he knew how. Tonight he would become someone else, if only for a few minutes. Tonight, he would not be Severus Snape.
On nights like this
When the world’s a bit amiss
And the lights go down
He was alone in the Slytherin common room, sitting on a chair with his feet crossed on the coffee table in front of him. Everyone else was at dinner. He had only an hour, maybe less. He really should hurry, but he decided to take his time. It was better that way. He ran his hands through his hair, which was always greasy no matter how much he washed it. His father - his filthy Muggle father - had been cursed with greasy hair and passed the trait down to his son. He twirled a strand through his fingers, feeling it retain its curl. Pulling out his wand, he muttered a spell to darken the common room. It was barely lit by a few candles suspended four feet above his head.
Perfect. He smiled to himself. He lifted his feet off the table and placed them on the floor. Slowly he reached for the box that sat on the table, seeming to beckon him towards it. He had stolen the box from his mother years ago and it had a horrible picture of an antique teapot on it (she collecting teapots) and Severus detested it. The teapot was ugly, but the item inside its box was beyond beautiful. He lifted it out and held it up from underneath, scared to mess up its perfection.
And the strangest things seem suddenly routine
I look up from my Vermouth on the rocks
The gift-wrapped wig's still in the box
Of towering velveteen
It was a wig. It was black and sleek and the same length as his own, but it wasn’t greasy. It was clean, scattered with ringlets that added volume and texture. If anyone who had never laid eyes on it before were to look at it, they would think it was brand-new and had never been worn. The truth was, Severus simply looked after it exceptionally well. He placed it back on its stand in the box, then pulled a hairnet out from the inside corner and covered his hair with it. He resisted the urge to put it on right away. He had to savour each moment.
I put on some make-up
Turn on the tape deck
And put the wig back on my head
Suddenly I'm Miss Midwest Midnight Checkout Queen
Until I head home
And I put myself to bed
Severus felt his skin and didn’t shudder from the touch. The years would turn his flesh oily and clogged, but for now it was soft, clear, and was the only thing that showed his youth. His cheekbones were well-defined and had his face filled out a bit more, they could almost have been attractive. His nose was crooked and abnormally large, as his father’s had been, and his lips were thin and cracked, and a shade so red they could either be feminine or bleeding. The only feature Severus liked was his eyes: they were large, so dark they could almost be called black, and he had long, feminine eyelashes.
He pinched his cheeks, bringing a bit of colour into them. He picked out anything underneath his long fingernails and stared at them for a few moments, thinking that they could have been filed nicer. Oh well, there was no time for that tonight.
Severus flicked his wand, hoping to conjure himself a pair of black evening gloves to cover his hideous, vein-y hands. He was new to conjuring items, so all that appeared was a pair of fuzzy black mittens. He sighed to himself and made-do, placing them on his hands and imaging they were evening gloves. He licked his lips, giving them a shiny appearance, and with his fingers he brushed his eyebrows into place and separated his lashes to the best of his ability. He sat forward in his chair and pulled his robes tighter around his chest and waist, tying the excess into a knot in his back.
And now.
Now, at last, it was time for the wig. He reached for it delicately, holding it above eye-level and examining it from every angle.
Some girls, they got natural ease
They wear it any way they please
With their French flip curls
From perfumed magazines
Wear it up, let it down
This is the best way that I've found
To be the best you've ever seen
He placed it on his head, shutting his eyes and simply feeling his way. He adjusted it slowly, placing almost every strand where he wanted it. When he was done, he sat very still, eyes still closed, barely breathing. As soon as the wig was placed on his head, he felt a change. He was no longer Snivellus, a seventh-year Slytherin who fancied the Dark Arts and was in constant battles with the Gryffindors. He was someone entirely new, someone so far from Severus Snape that as he opened his eyes he thought he saw the Slytherin common room change into another room entirely. He could almost hear some sort of rock music playing in the background. The room brightened and the music’s volume increased, and he began to sway to it. He was in some sort of nightclub, and he didn’t care if it was a Muggle one or magical one. He felt, for the first time in his life, content and happy with himself. He had no worries. He had nothing and no one to fear.
I put on some make-up
Turn on the eight track
I'm pulling the wig down from the shelf
Suddenly I'm Miss Punk Rock Star
Of stage and screen
And I ain't ever
I'm never turning back
Oh…bliss.
FINIS
Your thoughts?