The Lies You Tell Yourself

Disclaimer: (In the spirit of Crimson Starlight)

Kim: I don't know about this.

Shana: Oh, come on!

Kim: No, really.

Shana: I can't try something new?

Kim: Lots of other people do it.

Shana: So?

Kim: I thought you wanted to be unique.

*roaring laughter heard from next room*

Shana: *frowning*

Kim: I think ol' Sevvy agrees with me.

Shana: *glares*

Snape: *laughing his ass off in the next room over the latest issue of Potions Monthly, utterly oblivious of the conversation he has inadvertently become a part of*

Kim: I solemnly swear that Shanastay is up to no good. Anything recognizable is Rowling's. The rest of it is Shana's. She doesn't get compensated in any meaningful way for any of this.

Shana: Hey! Reviews are a meaningful form of compensation!

Kim: So says you.

Shana: *glares*

Formula

Poetry should treat
Of lofty things
Soaring thoughts
And birds with wings.

The Muse of Poetry
Should not know
That roses
In manure grow.

The Muse of Poetry
Should not care
That earthly pain
Is everywhere.

Poetry!
Treats of lofty things:
Soaring thoughts
And birds with wings.
-Langston Hughes 1926

Chapter 16: You Again?

Severus was covered in perspiration, muscles tensing alternately in sympathy to the dream he was caught up in. If the sounds emerging from his slightly parted lips, the rapid movement of his eyes behind closed lids, and the turgid erection jutting up from his hips were any indication, it was a highly explicit dream.

Snape found himself slammed up against his bedroom wall next to the open doorway, a tall, lean form trapping him there as it dropped its head to capture his lips in a demanding kiss. His breasts crushed between them, the Potions master realized with a start that he was again wearing the redhead's body. Long, thin-fingered hands seemed to be everywhere, touching, mapping the curves of his altered body. That metamorphed form literally hummed underneath the aggressor's palms, and with a moan, he realized he was responding with gusto.

Eyes wide, Severus tried to examine the face of his dominator at close range, receiving yet another shock. A very prominent nose hindered his view. The Polyjuiced Severus Snape was being ravished by a very male Severus Snape. Dream. It has to be a dream. But oh, MERLIN, what a dream! Secure in that realization, he gave himself over to the reactions his doppelganger was evincing in him.

Severus would have melted into a puddle on the floor, had his double not been holding him up. Snape, as he decided he would think of his double, had relinquished his mouth and moved down over the curve of his/herthroat and latched onto his/her skin at the juncture of neck and shoulder, marking him/her. It was exactly what Severus would have done, and thus all the more erotic. This being a dream, this doppelganger very much was him.

Snape insinuated a hand between Severus' legs, circling his sensitive nub with practiced movements. Severus did lose the ability to stand at that, Snape deftly catching him about the backs of the thighs and lifting him up, still pressing him/her back against the wall, lips resuming their attack on his/her mouth. Severus responded by wrapping his legs tightly around his waist, Snape answering with a reverberating growl into their joined mouths.

The redhead's body was responding to Snape's ministrations, his/her thighs already slick with wetness. Severus was unaccustomed to being dominated, but found that, in this body, he was most definitely enjoying it. By circling Snape's waist with his/her legs, he discovered the head of his doppelganger's arousal teasing at his/her entrance. Moved by a momentary need to reassert his dominance, Severus caught Snape's bottom lip between his teeth and bit down just hard enough to cause a momentary flash of pain, knowing full well how his duplicate would react.

Snape acted just as Severus anticipated, responding with a feral snarl and shift of his hips that slammed his swollen length home in his/her sodden depths. He wasted no time and began thrusting in earnest, pounding Severus into the wall.

Severus keened loudly as his body was invaded, his/herfingernails excising grooves in Snape's back. OH, SWEET NIMUE!!! I had no idea it could feel like this! Oh, MERLIN! All semblance of coherence fled as Snape sank his teeth into his/her shoulder and soundly fucked Severus against the wall. The doppelganger was harsh and demanding, holding nothing back. Severus writhed in his arms, increasing the friction between them, screaming with every invasion, egging the duplicate on with cries of "HARDER!"

Snape responded with alacrity, shouting as his hips impacted her thighs. "CUM. FOR. ME. NOW!"

Severus did exactly as he was ordered, coming undone with a howl that shook the rafters, and saw stars, nearly knocking himself out as he threw his head back against the wall in ecstasy. His/her entire body was wracked by convulsions as an extremely powerful orgasm washed over him/her.

Snape screamed in counterpoint as the sensations of her body contracting around him brought on his own climax. He spent himself in her depths, cumming in hot, spurting jets that triggered a secondary orgasm in Severus.

Just as the first wave began to recede, Severus was caught unawares for a second as Snape reached his own culmination. Severus wasn't capable of even the most simple of coherent thoughts as stars exploded behind his eyelids, his very skin seeming to catch fire as nerve endings fired simultaneously. He had no basis of comparison for the utterly unfamiliar sensations overwhelming him and was lost in the feelings.

Maintaining their connection, Snape slid down until he was kneeling, his backside resting against his heels, the redhead held carefully in his arms. The doppelganger began showering feather-light kisses over Severus' face before capturing his/her lips in a sweet kiss suffused with emotion. Snape released his/her mouth to bury his face in the tangled mass of his/her hair, breathing deeply of their mingled scents.

"I love you."

The whispered declaration brought Severus out of his lust-fogged state. He stiffened in his duplicate's arms as he realized what those three words actually meant. Something about the way doppel-Snape said them made him think that this wasn't a simple dream-induced declaration of narcissistic self-love. No, his male self was apparently whispering to the woman whose form he currently inhabited.

What the…

"…hell?" Severus sat bolt upright on his bed, mutely taking in his surroundings, wondering that it had indeed been a dream. What the bloody, ruddy hell is going on here? That is the second… Oh, Merlin. That was the second dream I've had involving her. That pitch-black dream from last night… That had to be her too. But how? Today was the first time I saw what she looked like. How could I have been dreaming about fucking someone I'd never even seen, let alone met? Shite. Shite. Shite!

Dropping back onto the bed with a thump, the Potions master suddenly became aware of the fact that he had, yet again, made a mess of himself. He wearily murmured, "Evanesco!" and closed his eyes. Sweet Nimue, I haven't been this randy since I was a teenager. This is a very strange way for stress to affect me.

That was the last thought to pass his conscious mind before he dropped off into a--thankfully--dreamless sleep.

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Shaluinn and Minerva passed a relatively quiet afternoon, organizing and decorating the redhead's rooms. Every time the American encountered difficulties, McGonagall would demonstrate the proper spell and then immediately reverse it so her student could practice. The younger witch proved to be a quick study, remembering much from her long-ago school years. Only a couple times did she need more than two attempts to achieve the desired result.

After a couple of hours had passed, the Headmistress suggested that they take a break for afternoon tea. Minerva Floo'd the kitchens and Dobby himself arrived shortly, bearing a fully complimented tea service. The house-elf removed the remains of the platter he had brought Shaluinn the previous night, the tea tray replacing it on the table. He grinned up at the redhead, who had managed to almost clean the platter during the course of decorating, before snapping his fingers and disappearing.

No sooner had the duo sat down before the hearth than a piercing shriek began sounding in the room. Minerva shot to her feet, wand at the ready, pivoting in a circle to find the threat. She frowned as Shaluinn waved a hand and the noise ceased. Before she had a chance to ask, the redhead preempted her question.

"That was my early-warning alert. Someone is trying to gain unauthorized access to my office." The American again anticipated the Headmistress' question, speaking matter-of-factly as she rose and strode to the portal separating the rooms. "I set my wards to allow you unrestricted access to that room. An alarm only sounds if you try to get into my private suite. You didn't set it off when you found me earlier as I had not the opportunity to reset the wards after passing through." With that, Shaluinn waved her right hand and stepped through the wall.

McGonagall followed quickly to find a rather disturbing tableau unfolding before her. It was the last thing she had expected to see.

"… did you do to Hermione?!?" Harry was yelling at the UD professor.

The American was on her knees in the doorway to the corridor, facing down the business end of Potter's wand. As the elder witch darted forward with a speed that belied her age, she saw that Callaway's right arm was cradled against her stomach, streaks of red visible where the redhead's sleeve had been sliced open. The redhead's state already delicate, Minerva knew that beneath the concealing glamour Shaluinn had to be turning a sickly shade of white. To the younger witch's credit, she had her left wand out and had apparently managed to throw up a shield.

"Mr. Potter! What is the meaning of this? Explain yourself!" the Headmistress hissed. Beyond the messy-haired Boy-Who-Lived, she could now make out the prone form of Hermione Granger being shaken by a very distraught Ron Weasley.

His eyes and wand still pointed at Callaway, Harry answered. "She did something to Hermione! We can't wake her up!"

Minerva's lips tightened down into a thin line as she noticed Shaluinn's remaining good arm beginning to shake and drop, the American's eyes taking on a slightly glazed look.

"Did you try Enervate several times?" The harsh whisper came from the witch on the floor, just as the male redhead in the corridor performed that very spell, for what must have been the third time. The prone brunette immediately popped up to a sitting position.

Potter glanced over his shoulder and, spotting his friend climbing to her feet apparently unharmed, dropped his wand. "Oh," was all that came out of his mouth.

McGonagall glared. "Since when do you hex first and ask questions later? Professor Dumbledore recruited Miss Callaway to help you!" The elder witch knelt by the redhead's side, the younger witch now slumped against the doorframe.

Granger and Weasley now bracketed Harry in the doorway. The Self-Centered-Brat-Who-Managed-To-Survive-Everything-So-Far had firmed his jaw, a slightly irrational light gleaming in his eyes. "Since Snape killed Professor Dumbledore."

"Point," Shaluinn conceded in a ragged whisper.

"Point or not, you can't just go around randomly hexing your allies!" Minerva scolded the young man, her brogue manifesting itself, as she healed the long cut the boy had inflicted on the redhead in his agitated state. Looking back up at him, she asked, "Were you not satisfied with whatever Professor Dumbledore's portrait had to say?"

Granger answered, her response deliberately evasive. "No, Professor McGonagall. Professor Dumbledore was actually rather… informative. We were just coming to let you know we were leaving and to set up a time to meet with Professor Callaway."

The American let her head fall back against the doorframe and cut loose with the string of expletives she'd been holding back. "Idiotas! Vete a la mierda you fugly speds." She followed that with a thoroughly creative curse in Japanese.

"Huh?" Weasley interjected. The entire group looked confused.

"That first part sounded like Spanish," Granger observed, frowning. "I think the rest was some Asian language."

"Just be glad I opted not to say that in English. Granted, you probably wouldn't understand American cursing anyway," Shaluinn groused. Spotting the look on Hermione's face, she added, "If you don't get it, I'm not explaining it. Not today anyway."

McGonagall tried to help Callaway to her feet, only to be waved off. The younger professor stood shakily. The redhead then faced off with Granger, arms crossed over her chest, ignoring the other two. "Ever heard of knocking, honey? Even in the wizarding world, it's common courtesy. Evidently you decided to try dismantling my wards first and knocking second. Or maybe you didn't even consider knocking. And to think, I've been accused of having bad manners."

Weasley had the grace to look abashed, averting his gaze from the irritated American. Potter, unsurprisingly, was glaring defiantly. The female third of the Trio seemed to be doing her best impression of a fish, her mouth gaping before she closed it with an audible click.

"But I do have to thank you for proving my theory correct. As for meeting with me, anytime the day after tomorrow should be fine. I'm sure you all will be attending the wedding the Headmistress mentioned to me. We can discuss whatever you wish then. Just be sure to knock this time."

The UD professor was clearly dismissing them, but Hermione had latched onto the word "theory" and just couldn't hold back her question. "What theory did I prove?"

"I have a feeling you won't let this go without some kind of answer, so I'll give you the short version. I've been experimenting with embedding modified incapacitating hexes in my wards. Be glad you didn't set off one of the nastier spells. You must have attempted an advanced-level textbook Dismantling Charm to have triggered the Stupefy that hit you," Shaluinn explained.

"I did. Your wards seemed so simple, I thought I could break them," Granger admitted, only slightly chagrined.

"In your rush to see if you could, you neglected to ask yourself if you should. Such has been the source of much agonizing in both the Muggle and Wizarding worlds. Doing something just to see if you can, without considering the potential ramifications if you succeed, is a folly of the highest order." Callaway seemed about to add something else, but instead asked a question.

"Are any of you three Muggle-born?"

"I am," Hermione admitted.

"I was raised by Muggles," Harry added.

"Sorry. I'm a Pureblood," Ron said, eyes still averted.

"Ah. Then for you two, I have two words: nuclear weapons."

Both Granger and Potter's eyes widened, the American's point obviously hitting the mark.

"If there's nothing else?" Shaluinn paused. "Then I shall bid you all adieu. Minerva?" The redhead witch deferred to her superior.

McGonagall leveled a stern gaze at the Trio, her eyes resting primarily on Harry. "I have nothing to add… For now. I suggest you run along before I change my mind."

As soon as Minerva stepped back, Shaluinn slammed the door in the youths' startled faces. At McGonagall's raised brow the younger witch admitted, "Yeah, that was childish. But can you really blame me?"

The Headmistress shook her head, a rueful smile emerging. The elder witch turned, waiting for Callaway to precede her back to the redhead's rooms.

Shaluinn wore a chagrined expression as she waved her hand toward the wall. "Do you mind, Minerva? I find I haven't the energy after that altercation."

"Of course, my dear." McGonagall tapped out the sequence and led the way back in.

Once on the other side of the wall, Callaway immediately dropped into her previously vacated chair and called out, "Dobby?"

The elf appeared within seconds of being summoned. He cast his gaze about the room and immediately began wringing his hands. "Yes, Professor? Is the tea not to your liking? Dobby can bring something else…"

Shaluinn cut him off before he could work himself up into a full-blown fit. "The tea is wonderful, Dobby. I summoned you to ask if you would run an errand for me."

The skinny creature nodded his head emphatically. "Dobby can do that, Professor!"

"Would you please retrieve a Blood Replenishing Potion from the Infirmary for me? And don't let Madam Pomfrey catch you," the American added as an afterthought.

"Yes, Professor!" He snapped his fingers and vanished.

"Accio Rapid Healing Potion!" Callaway let the phial smack into her chest and drop into her lap, her last bit of energy spent in summoning the bottle. She smiled weakly at the concern etched on Minerva's face. "I'll be alright. I've been through worse and lived to tell the tale. Although, do remind me not to piss that particular young man off."

"Why would you want to get him drunk?"

"Crap. I used another 'Americanism' didn't I? I meant that I shouldn't try to anger him. Sorry. I forgot that 'pissed' for you means inebriated, not enraged," Shaluinn apologized.

"Ah."

Dobby reappeared then, forestalling further conversation for the moment, offering her a deep red phial.

"You weren't seen?"

"No, Professor. Dobby was very careful!"

Callaway offered the elf her brightest smile. "Thank you, Dobby. Well done! I will call you when we are done with the tea."

The garishly clad creature grinned back. "Yes, Professor!" With the faintest of pops, he was gone.

The redhead considered the two bottles, deciding to take the Healing Potion first. Her face twisted in a grimace, as neither one had a remotely pleasant taste. Almost immediately feeling much better, she turned her attention back to her guest. "Now, where were we?"

McGonagall couldn't help but shake her head at the way the American seemed to just shake off Potter's assault like it was nothing unusual. Then again, these were uncertain and unusual times they were all living in. Deciding it was best to leave that subject alone, she steered the conversation to other more mundane topics.

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The rest of the afternoon was spent in relative quiet. Minerva didn't push Shaluinn with her exercises, but between them, they managed to finish setting the redhead's rooms to rights. The Headmistress finally left for the evening meal with a promise to have something sent up.

Callaway was grateful to finally be left alone, her exhaustion catching up with her. She managed to stay awake long enough to eat--it was more like she just picked at the food--and shower before retreating to the thick duvet she'd insisted be left on the floor of the bedroom. Clad in boxer shorts, a sports bra and a light tank top, she took her bow with her this time. Its limbs matched up perfectly with the black stripes bruised into her skin, the weapon serving as an odd equivalent of a teddy bear.

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Through the afternoon and into the night Snape slept on, blissfully unaware of anyone or anything.

TBC…

A/N: I have to lay blame on LadyoftheMasque for conjuring the (maybe) disturbing gender-bending scenes. I had the idea some time ago, and I don't intentionally mean to mimic her ideas, but I must acknowledge her efforts as she did do it first. I can only hope that my crack-induced efforts (that's a joke!) are worthy of comparison with hers.

Translation: "Idiotas! Vete a la mierda you fugly speds." "Idiots! Fuck off, you fucking ugly special eds." Fugly sped is a term I heard used frequently at the prison I used to work at. It is meant derogatorily. However, I harbor no prejudices against those individuals who suffer from retardation and such. Special education programs are necessary and appropriate for those needing extra help. No offense is intended toward these individuals, and hopefully none is taken.

A HUMONGOUS thank you goes out to my beta, Kim, who was ever so obliging in the fast turnaround on this chapter.