snupin_mods (snupin_mods) wrote in lupin_snape, @ 2010-06-14 23:16:00 |
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Entry tags: | exchange: remix |
Snupin Remix: Story Gift for Rosy
Title: The Rules of Cross-Dressing
Author: Lil' Remix-Up
Rating: R
Warnings: mpreg, cross-dressing
Summary: Remus knows he shouldn't do it, but that never stopped a Gryffindor.
Notes: Ths is a remix of real_life_rosy's Bad Puppy, with references to I'm Not That Girl.
I shouldn't do it. I know that. Severus is absolutely right that I look dreadful in drag. He made me memorize what he calls The Rules, and I still can recite them from memory if he catches me wearing his eyeshadow or stockings because I can't find mine, or I've bought something for myself and it's the wrong color or cut:
"I am never, under any circumstance, however extreme, to get into your make up, dresses, or shoes, unless you are there to supervise me since I am helplessly and hopelessly bad at dressing myself in any aesthetically pleasing manner or without causing extreme shame to both myself and my lover."
But I can't help myself.
Severus looks marvelous in drag - how could I not want to join him when he dresses up? He has the height, and the figure, and the experience - well, what else would one call it? He was the first man to fall pregnant from that potion in over a century, so it wasn't like there were any shops that sold maternity clothes for men. I offered to research expansion charms for his trousers, especially after the morning sickness ended and he started to put on weight, but he told me that he'd take care of it.
I never expected to come down for breakfast when he was about five months along and find him sitting there at the table wearing a v-necked tunic in some sort of loose knit, black leggings with a stretch panel, and a pair of sturdy black boots that should have looked clunky but somehow didn't. His hair had started to curl again, just the way it did when he was a woman, and the clingy fabric made his bump look bigger than it actually was. He held up what he was reading and passed it over to me.
"Field report from Black. He still can't spell, but it seems he's found a nest of Death Eaters in Canterbury. What do you think?"
"I - Severus. You look bloody marvelous." He glanced up, and that was when I noticed he was wearing foundation, eye makeup, blush, and lipstick. My mouth went dry. "The clothes - "
"I'm pregnant, in case you hadn't noticed." He leaned back in his chair, one hand caressing that lovely little bulge. It was all I could do not to carry him back to bed, even though we'd made love when we woke up - he'd been insatiable ever since the morning sickness faded, especially first thing in the morning. "This is the best way to deal with it unobtrusively. Madam Malkin is a notorious gossip and will notice if I order looser robes." He shrugged. "Why do you think I told Lucius that my cousin Eleanora from Italy was coming for a visit?"
"Very - " I pulled out a chair and sat down before he could notice that I'd gone stiff as a board. "Very logical. You look - "
"Bloody marvelous. You already told me." Severus raised an eyebrow. "I got some practice putting on makeup and shopping for women's clothing when I was completely female. It's gratifying to see that the results are convincing."
"That they are." I edged close enough to kiss him. He made a pleased little sound, especially when I rucked up his tunic and slipped my hand under his belly. It was so firm and tight, so real, that I couldn't help stroking it, just a little. His genitals were all male, and very, very interested in what I was doing, and -
Well. That's neither here nor there. But it's where it started, the cross-dressing, because he wanted to be comfortable, and who can blame him?
Severus was always much better at it than I was. Not only did he look more and more female as the months passed, he really seemed to enjoy being taken for a woman. Men opened doors for him and pulled out chairs, married witches with families of their own gave him advice, and even Harry was polite to him once he really started to get big. He ate it right up, too. Told me later it was the first time people acted polite to him instead of frightened. Even Sirius stopped needling him, mostly, although he never did take Severus up on his offer to feel the baby move.
The best part was that he turned out to be just as good a spy as "Signora Eleanora Coronati," Severus Snape's paternal cousin from Tuscany, as he'd been as Severus Snape. Most of the Death Eaters were pureblood males, which meant that they were used to beautiful wives who smiled, hosted wonderful dinner parties, and stayed out of politics. The mere idea that the pregnant woman in the corner of Fortescue's dreamily rubbing her swollen belly as she perused knitting magazines was actually listening to Malfoy and Dolohov plot, let alone memorizing every word and possibly using legilimency to suss out future plans, was beyond them.
Besides, Lucius found Eleanora so charming that he insisted on buying her lunch more than once. Severus can fake an Italian accent better than one might think, and hearing him titter about il bambino whilst ordering the most expensive thing on the menu at Lucius' expense was one of the best parts of the War. Narcissa couldn't do a thing, either, because Eleanora was supposedly recovering from her late husband's unfortunate accident with an exploding mortar and pestle, and of course one couldn't possibly accuse a heavily pregnant widow of making moves on another man, even if she complimented Lucius' sprezzatura more than once.
Even better was all the gossip Severus - I mean Eleanora - picked up at Madam Capillaria's hairdressing salon. Let's just say that Narcissa and her friends become quite relaxed when sipping Grand Siecle and waiting for the highlighting spells to take effect, shall we? By the end of the War he was such a good intelligence source that a couple of other Order members put on drag and tried to do likewise, which is why that picture of Bill Weasley in a twin set and pearls made the cover of the Quibbler.
But I digress.
As convincing as Severus was as Eleanora, I was still worried about him. Of course he still knew more hexes than the rest of the Order put together, and there was nothing wrong with his spellcasting despite the female hormones, but even he would admit that he couldn't move as quickly with two extra stone all in one place weighing him down. All I could think was what would happen if Rookwood or Bellatrix or Voldemort himself figured out that Severus' cousin was actually Severus and got the drop on him. I wanted to go with him, but Severus (and Sirius, and Albus, and just about everyone else) pointed out that I was too well known to risk it.
That's when I decided that if Severus could do it, so could I.
I bought an old jumper and a cardigan that almost matched at a jumble, picked up a used wig at Oxfam, and dug through the attic at Grimmauld Place until I found one of Walburga Black's skirts that fit as long as I didn't eat anything. An old copy of Witch Weekly had some makeup tips, and after a little practice in walking in high heels (Walburga's again, not that anyone but that foul-mouthed elf noticed or cared that the Mistress's possessions were disappearing) I felt confident enough to dress up and follow Severus when he waddled out to shop for baby clothes.
Of course he spotted me almost immediately, and of course he hauled me right back to Grimmauld Place and yelled at me for looking like an ass. Walburga's makeup was too heavy for someone with good skin, he said, and the skirt made me look as if I were pregnant, too. Add in that I hadn't stuffed the bra evenly, and the cardigan was this awful yellow-green that made me look like a corpse, and the effect was, quote "so bad the Death Eaters will laugh themselves to death."
He was right, of course. Even me admitting that I'd done it only because I was worried about him, and the baby, didn't calm him down much. He was so frustrated that he nearly swatted me with a copy of Modern Maternity, and it was only when I asked him if he'd help that he stopped, took a deep breath, and said he would as long as long as I never, ever attempted to cross-dress without either him or a "competent female" (his words, and he did not mean either Tonks or Molly) there to make sure my lipstick was the right shade, my wig wasn't crooked, and the seams on my stockings were straight. Then he kissed me, hard, and we forgot about everything but each other for a while.
The next time Eleanora went out shopping, there was a somewhat dowdy, completely ordinary witch two rows down, cooing over baby clothes for a non-existent nephew. Someone with sharp eyes would have noticed that the witch was wearing a second-hand Muggle wig, or that the shoes were very similar to those once favored by the late and unlamented Walburga Black, but the clothing and makeup and everything about her was so quiet and so skillfully done that no one once suspected that "she" was actually Britain's Most Notorious Werewolf, making sure his lover was safe and sound. The wig and the clothes were different the next time, but from then until the day Harry finally took care of Voldemort, about two weeks before Severus went into labor, he never lacked for a bodyguard.
So that's how it started. We don't do it around our son for obvious reasons; Marty isn't old enough to understand that he grew inside one of his fathers, let alone that Papa and Daddy like to dress like ladies and go clubbing every once in a while. Severus does my makeup, I admire what heels do for his legs, and Harry and most of his old DA friends are happy to babysit so we can have some private time. We've never once been caught, and if Severus gets upset with him when I try to surprise him and dress myself, well, it always ends up with us enjoying both the fight and the aftermath, so what's the problem.
Best of all, Lucius still hasn't figured out that Eleanora is Severus, and until he does, it's always fun to watch him try to flirt with "Signora Coronati" when he's having a "lads' night out" during Narcissa's spa weekends in Penistone.
End