Lockhart's Matchmaking Misfortune
Summary: Will soon be moved to the REPO! Crossover section. No OCs, no tie-ins with my other HP/Repo story. Lockhart interferes with another Professor's love life in a most horrifying way.
Author's Note: I don't know. I love this pairing. I've got a few other, much longer, stories for them in the works, and dammit, I wanted this out there.
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or Repo! The Genetic Opera. They belong to JK Rowling, Terrance Zdunich and Darren Smith.
"I have one question for you, Severus."
Severus regarded the idiotic blonde next to him much like one would regard a large, particularly slimy slug dangling from a stick. The other staff members were staring, and that was probably the only thing that was stopping him from pulling out his wand and pressing it against the moron's (In his head, the dolt's name was never used) throat until he'd moved at least two feet away.
As it was, that could be interpreted as a threat of bodily harm, and such an act was therefore best left for an empty corridor (At this point, he'd settle for semi-empty). So Severus took a deep breath, shut his eyes, and forced a response.
Gilderoy Lockhart gave a knowing smirk.
"What's her name?"
Flitwick made a sharp choking noise as he made the fatal (yet common) mistake of trying to scream and/or gasp whilst ingesting liquid. Sinistra jumped so sharply the table shook and made the silverware clatter, attracting the attention of more than a few students that sat closest to the staff table.
Severus, recognizing a potentially mortifying situation for what it was, did what any sane, red-blooded human male would do: Denied it.
"I have no idea what you're blabbering about." He muttered, lip curling back and making sure that the letter in his hand was rolled in on itself a bit, obscuring the words from Lockhart's view. But Lockhart shook his head.
"Severus, Severus, come on now: I've answered enough fan mail by now to know feminine script when I see it. You have a lady friend, don't you?"
There was a sudden, intense outbreak of coughing that sounded, momentarily, suspiciously like a snort from Minerva.
The idea of Severus Snape being in actual, willing correspondence with another human being, never mind a woman, was such an alarming thought- it practically went against the laws of magic and nature alike- that he now had the undivided attention of each of his coworkers. This could be because they were eager to find out if it was true or not.
Or maybe they just wanted to see him get pushed over the edge and end up violently murdering Lockhart.
Either way, it would be entertaining.
Severus was indeed coming dangerously, dangerously close to doing something regrettable ('Regrettable' here translating to 'Likely to get him sacked'). He forced himself into the same temper-control exercises he was forced to employ whenever he found himself teaching a class in which Harry Potter, Neville Longbottom- Well, any Gryffindor at all, really- was present.
"If I did," He hissed through clenched teeth. "It would most certainly be no business of yours, now would it?"
"Come now, Sev! I'm only trying to help!"
Twang! Went another nerve as it snapped. There were two, and only two, people allowed to call him 'Sev'. One of them was dead. The other, if you can believe it, was not Lockhart.
Minerva McGonagall, observing from her seat on Lockhart's other side, idly wondered if she should get involved. There had always been the natural Gryffindor-Slytherin rivalry, the very thing that was allowing her to therefore take pleasure in Severus Snape getting very, very annoyed by the singularly most annoying person on the planet.
However, as much as that rivalry existed, she also shared with Severus a strong dislike of Gilderoy Lockhart, under the idea that he was, in fact, the world's biggest prat. And that world-class prat was currently wearing down on something that, she expected, was not a subject that was meant to be pressed on with Snape. She certainly wouldn't want her love life broadcasted to her fellow staff members.
For the sake of her younger colleague's mental state (and employment), she decided to bail him out.
"Gilderoy, I'm compelled to ask you about this lesson you were teaching the fourth years yesterday afternoon. Something about a werewolf…?"
Severus gave her an eternally grateful look (This being a slightly-less cold look than usual), and Minerva merely managed a slight narrow of the eyes as Lockhart launched into a long and epic story.
You owe me, Severus.
Unfortunately for the Potions Master and the Transfiguration Professor, Gilderoy Lockhart did not forget so easily. Particularly matters of such obvious importance; that being proof that Severus Snape might actually be something resembling a human being with feelings.
Any student of Severus Snape's would know that Lockhart's plan was a death wish.
Even the Slytherins knew that such a feat would be enough to get 100 plus points deducted from their house- if they weren't killed first.
To put it in more relevant terms: If Harry Potter had the option of running up to Voldemort, slapping him in the face and calling him a half-blood sissy with anger issues and an inferiority complex…
…OR breaking into Severus Snape's office to find evidence that he was, indeed, corresponding and was romantically involved with a woman under high risk of being caught…
…Harry would be out looking for Voldemort at that moment.
There was no one in the world that was stupid enough to attempt something so stupid, so dangerous, so folly and suicidal.
At least not until Lockhart came to Hogwarts.
Lockhart had survival instincts, make no mistake; very strong ones, in fact. But at this level, at this time, he was cocky enough to believe that he could succeed with such a plan and not face any severe consequences (That being his murder at the business end of a killing curse courtesy of Severus Snape).
And so, finding an opportunity to slip out whilst his students were busy taking notes out of a chapter in one of his books ("How I Tamed the Hag of Halifax With Hot Cocoa and a Celestina Warbeck Record" from Holidays With Hags), he slipped out of his class and ran down to the dungeons. He knew that Snape also had a class this period, and likely would not leave.
As it was, Snape didn't believe that there was anyone stupid or self-destructive enough to dare to break into his office, and so all it took was a simple 'Alohomora' for the lock to click and the door to swing open welcomingly.
Well; as welcomingly as a door can open into a dark, dank dungeon filled with years of gloom and despair.
Creeping inside, Lockhart immediately went for Snape's desk. Unless he threw out the letters he was receiving- and Lockhart doubted that he did- they would most likely be situated somewhere within the desk.
The blonde professor tugged on the handle of one drawer. Locked. Not a problem.
"Alohomora." He smiled as the lock clicked, and then went to tug on the handle again.
The drawer promptly developed a set of rather sharp and dangerous looking teeth before lunging and snarling at Lockhart's hand.
About twenty minutes later, Lockhart was sweaty, bloody and disheveled, but he held in his hand a stack of letters, and at his feet was a destroyed wooden drawer that would be repaired before he left.
And he'd been right!
Leafing through the letters, he grin widened as his suspicions were confirmed.
And now he knew just what to do with this information.
Magdalene "Blind Mag" Dafoe had only one living person she could actually call a friend; she excluded Nathan from this under the idea that he still disliked her (Check 'hated her back-stabbing guts') because she worked for Rotti Largo and basically pimped out (A new favorite term of Luigi's) the blood-company that was GeneCo.
This friend was also the other half of the first romantic relationship that she'd been involved with since high school- the first she'd ever had with her sight.
She had conceded at the beginning of their relationship that she was not going to get much in the way of deep, mushy displays of affection. She'd expected maybe a note, a letter with 'P.S, Happy Valentine's Day' at the most.
So when a dwarf in a diaper carrying a harp appeared in her apartment on the morning of February 14th, she was a little surprised.
In fact, her GeneCo-owned peepers nearly popped out of her head.
"OI! YOU MAG?"
Mag stared at the tiny, strange creature and nodded very slowly.
"GOT A VALENTINE FOR YOU FROM-" He looked at the slip of paper in his hand. "-SEVERUS SNAPE."
Mag suddenly found herself unaccountably grateful for her loneliness; she wasn't certain she'd be able to live it down if someone heard this.
OH, MY FLOWER
THOUGH YOU DRESS OH SO DOUR
YOUR EYES ARE BLUE LIKE A MORNING SKY
IT'S NO WONDER YOU CAUGHT MY EYE!
YOUR BEAUTY IS BEYOND COMPARE
JUST AS SHINY AS YOUR HAIR
ROSES ARE RED, VIOLETS ARE BLUE,
YOU'RE CERTAINLY LOVELIER THAN A HAG
OH I LOVE YOU
MY DEAR MAG!
Blessed, blessed silence.
Mag took in a deep, deep breath and let it all out at once.
"Th-Thank you," She said, managing a shaky, wincing smile. "For delivering that… Lovely poem to me." The dwarf sniffed and wiped its nose with its wrist.
"No problem. 'M off."
And he disappeared.
Mag sat there for a minute longer, staring at the spot where it had been as though she expected it to pop back and do it again. Or maybe she expected Severus to apparate in and say 'Just a joke!'
Not likely. That wasn't his style. Rather, the common belief was that Severus' view of humor involved small, fuzzy woodland creatures being devoured by wildcats.
Sitting in silence for a moment as she contemplated that… Interesting… Work of poetry, Mag wondered what exactly she was supposed to do next.
The logical answer seemed to be to write a letter and glean any information about Severus' mental state that she could.
On February 20th (The letter had to go quite a ways, you see; Mag was in America), a familiar Great-Horned owl swooped into the Great Hall and landed in front of Severus' plate. He nodded in recognition to the owl, Penelope, and accepted the letter she dropped into his hand. She hooted sweetly and blinked her large eyes at him.
Mag's affection for him seemed to have seeped into the owl as well. This affection may also have resulted from Severus repairing her wing after it became injured on a flight about a year ago. Penelope had been so touched by his care she'd brought him two dead mice one morning at breakfast, dropping them right in front of his plate.
He would have preferred two dead Gryffindors, but conceded that she was too small to attempt such a feat and thanked her for the gift anyway.
Turning away from what remained of his food- most of the staff had already finished and left- he opened the letter as casually as he would any other day. He registered Mag's handwriting as he unfolded the letter and started to read, taking pleasure in the familiar script.
His eyes narrowed.
He was glaring at the letter.
The door to the staff room flew open, and everyone froze.
No one- no one- had ever seen Severus Snape so angry before.
…And lived to tell about it.
He was breathing heavily, like a werewolf that had just spent a long, hard run chasing down a small, furry creature that it fully intended to devour, with plenty of flying blood and gore. His teeth were bared in a primal snarl that would have sent any number of large, vicious beasts running for cover, and his eyes blazed with the red-hot fury of a thousand supernovas as they collapsed into black holes in the deepest depths of black, vacuumed space.
In a word: pissed.
Like the Red Sea parted for Moses, the Professors stepped (check, dove) well out of the space between Severus and Lockhart.
Lockhart was either totally oblivious to Severus' anger (not impossible) or (wrongfully) secure in the knowledge that Severus would not dare to attack him, because he didn't even look worried at the same sight that was making his colleagues cower for cover in their corners.
"Severus! What is it?"
Severus was in front of Lockhart so quickly the others had to wonder if, in his moment of universe-ending fury, he'd defied the laws of magic and apparated from one place to another within Hogwarts' walls.
The room seemed to grow ominously darker.
Minerva found her voice first. "Severus-"
"StayoutofthisMinerva." It came out as a low, long hiss. Minerva leaned over and whispered to Professors Flitwick and Vector,
"Get Dumbledore- Now."
They hastened to do so. Severus, in his (currently) silent rage, did not notice. In contrast, Lockhart was finally starting to realize that he might be in a bit of trouble. Before he could offer a gentle inquiry, however, Severus slowly raised a piece of parchment in his right hand.
"What," He growled, "Did you- Send- To-" Lockhart's face shined with recognition.
"Oh! The Valentine, right! Well, I thought that since dear Magdalene couldn't be here for the festivities and you would be so busy cooking up those love potions all day-"
"What did you send to her, you blithering MORON?"
Severus was starting to talk above a whisper. Never a good sign. And he was so angry that no one had time to realize that Lockhart had been right: Severus Snape was in willful contact with a woman.
"One of those little cupid-dwarves! I will admit that I should have asked you what you wanted to say to her-"
At this point, Severus Snape could no longer function from the utter wrath that had consumed his mind.
Thankfully for Severus (who would have lost his job and probably ended up in Azkaban) and Lockhart (who would have been ground into fertilizer for Hagrid's pumpkin patch), Albus Dumbledore was blessed with the Deux ex Machina complex, the symptoms of which involved excellent timing, an intuitive sense of when trouble was brewing, and the ability to stop any and all conflict with one's mere presence.
Every teacher in the room breathed a sigh of relief.
"I believe another question you should have asked, Gilderoy," Dumbledore said with that maddening twinkle in his eyes as he shut the door of the staff room behind him, "Is whether or not Severus wanted to send anything of such a nature to Ms. Dafoe at all. I do believe you've intruded very deeply on his privacy."
"Very deeply- That's- It-" Severus struggled to come up with an accurate description of the blow his privacy and masculine pride had suffered.
"Doesn't even begin to cover it?" Dumbledore inquired. Severus nodded jerkily, though his eyes remained, burning, on Lockhart's now flinching form (Could the Cruciatus curse, to a very, very small degree, be used as wand-less magic when the wizard in question had transcended all normal levels of anger?).
Dumbledore took a slightly sterner look, which was directed at Lockhart. "I, and Severus, would appreciate it if you would please send a letter to Miss Dafoe explaining the situation to her and apologizing for intruding upon her and Severus' privacy. And please try to stay humble."
For once, Gilderoy Lockhart looked properly chagrined. "Yes, Headmaster."
(Crossed out) Dearest Magdalene (Crossed out)
(Crossed out) Dear Mag (Crossed out)
Dear Miss Dafoe-
My name is Gilderoy Lockhart.
(Crossed out) Winner of Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award (Crossed out).
I'm afraid I've made a rather-
(Crossed out) unfortunate (Crossed out)
(Crossed out) bad (Crossed out)
(Crossed out) inappropriate (Crossed out)
-unforgivable error in good judgment. You see, in the hype of St. Valentine's Day, I found myself wanting to see each of my dear coworkers in a state of happiness. When I-
(Crossed out) learned (Crossed out)
(Crossed out) heard (Crossed out)
-stuck my nose into a matter that in no way concerned me and discovered that Severus was in contact with a-
(Crossed out) gorgeous (Crossed out)
(Crossed out) beautiful (Crossed out)
(Crossed out) lovely (Crossed out)
(Crossed out) pretty (Crossed out)
-dignified lady such as yourself, I thought he might appreciate it if you were brought into the spirit of the day, in spite of being so far away.
He would like to state for the record that he did most definitely not appreciate it.
I have been-
(Crossed out) threatened with bodily harm (Crossed out)
-warned against repeating any similar actions in the future, and have agreed not to do so.
I offer you my-
(Crossed out) most affectionate (Crossed out)
(Crossed out) most charming (Crossed out)
(Crossed out) deepest (Crossed out)
-heartfelt and sincere apologies, and-
(Crossed out) ask (Crossed out)
-beg for your forgiveness.
(Crossed out) With Love, (Crossed out)
(Crossed out) Yours charmingly, (Crossed out)
(Crossed out) Order of Merlin, Third Class (Crossed out)
Why is there blood smeared at the bottom of the parchment?
It's a blood oath.
I made him do it.
And if he should violate it?
At the staff table, Severus Snape read Mag's short letter.
Then, he turned towards Lockhart and smirked.
The blonde shot a nervous glance at him and started to pay particular attention to his breakfast.
Unable to wait, he pulled a piece of parchment from his pocket and wrote the following to her:
What are your views on ferrets?
… I have no originality. At least not with that last part.
I wish I could claim I took that… For lack of an appropriate word, poem, from somewhere else, but no- I just wrote the most idiotic set of rhymes that came to mind. I can't even go back over and read it now it's so bad.
I've got to say: That's the first time I've ever written Lockhart before (Well, no- I'm kind of writing this in sync with another story I have him in. But still.)
I was a little worried, because in the book we mainly see his goofy my-head-is-bigger-than-the-solar-system side, but then we see that he has a much darker side right before he loses his memories. I was wondering if I should hint at that darker nature or stick with the big-headed show-off we all know and love.