Chapter 5

A/N: Sorry for the month-long lag between updates. I had other stories I was more inclined to work on, plus I moved, an experience I don't at all relish. But I'm in the new place, sorted with the internet, and so I give you... Snape and his merry band of strippers. Please review!

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It was well past suppertime when Snape finally skulked up to his former Spinner's End abode with Toby at his side, and the dread of another face-off with Hermione was making him more sour than ever.

"Er, so, I reckon Mum shouldn't know about this whole thing with Dumbledore?" asked Toby in a low voice, glancing up at his father for confirmation.

"If I'd wanted this big a dunderhead for a son, I'd have adopted Potter," returned Snape coldly. "Of course you shouldn't go telling your mummy, Tobias."

"Sorry," the boy muttered gloomily, shoving his hands in the pockets of his greying robes and shuffling ahead to the door.

"Hello, Toby!" exclaimed Hermione with false cheer. "Did you have a nice time?"

Her son nodded his greasy head. "Yeah, it was all right, I suppose. I got to go to the Hog's Head."

At this, Hermione sent a glare over the boy's head. "Go on upstairs, then, Toby. I've to have a word with your father." Though she waited for Toby's pounding footsteps to cease and his door to slam shut, she needn't have bothered, for she shrieked shrilly, "The Hog's Head? I ask you, Severus, what gets into that oily skull of yours? Sure, you sit around that dingy flat of yours all day, listening to The Proud and the Pureblood or playing games at the Wizard's Job Agency, and I've said more times than I can count what a bad example that is, but taking our child to a dodgy pub? I expected... "

"I'm not a child!" Toby's defiant voice floated down the stairs.

"Extendable Ears AWAY!" roared Hermione. "Don't make me come up there, Tobias Snape!"

The corners of Snape's mouth twitched upward. "'Don't make me come up there,'" he repeated in a shrill, angry voice that really did sound remarkably like his wife's. "Ah, how convincingly you play the martyr, my dear. The struggling, young, single mother, tormented by her shiftless ex-husband, just barely making ends meet."

"There's the pot calling the cauldron," Hermione sneered. "Seeing as how only one of us is gainfully employed, and it certainly isn't you." Pointing her wand at a thick stack of parchment, she muttered, "Accio Divorce Papers." She shoved them into Snape's hand. "I think you'll find that everything is in order, Severus. There'll be a division of property, custody arrangements, since you persist in taking our impressionable son to places like the bloody Hog's Head, so you'd better find a solicitor. I'm using Longbottom; here's his card." After a long, gloomy look at Snape, she began to turn away. "You'd better go."

Though he eyed the door for a moment, the former Potions master did not leave. Instead, he grabbed his wife's wrist and spun her to face him. Before she could react, he kissed her deeply, threading one hand into her bushy hair and pressing against the small of her back with the other. His mouth was hard, intense, and met no resistance from hers. Rather, she deepened the kiss, molding her taut, peaked breasts against the heat emanating from his robe.

"Mum, Dad? I thought Mum said you were getting divorced."

Aghast, Severus and Hermione sprang apart, both gaping at the small boy in green and silver pajamas, who was standing on the stairs and clutching a battered copy of Moste Potente Potions. "Go back to bed, Toby." Snape was the first to recover his voice. "I'll see you next weekend."

With that, he hastened from the foyer and Apparated straight back to the Hog's Head.

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"One, two, ready, DANCE!" Malfoy pointed his wand at the iPod he had strategically placed on Dumbledore's desk.

Lookin' for some hot love, baby, this evening; I need some hot stuff, baby, tonight...

The six men immediately sprang into action, thrusting out their pelvises wildly and pumping their arms in the air vigorously. Too vigorously.

"Ow!" complained Arthur, rubbing at his now-bloodshot eye. "Bloody hell, Remus, you elbowed me right in the eye."

Remus was busy trying to unstick his duct-tape covered robes from Moody's wooden leg. "Sorry about that, Arthur. Here, have a square of Honeydukes chocolate, take the edge off." He gave his shabby robe a tug and pulled it free of Mad-Eye's prosthetic. "All right, Alastor?"

Nodding distractedly, Moody glanced up at Dumbledore, who was watching the sad, little scene. Lucius was still dancing obliviously, shaking his blond mane to and fro; Snape was glowering disgustedly at the lot of them; and the others were stumbling around in a daze.

"I expect Dumbledore'd have summat ter say about that," mumbled Hagrid, flushing under his tangled mass of beard, then continued boldly, "The cloak! Harry, put the cloak on!"

At once, Arthur stole a glance at Lucius' portable music device. "Oh, but you have a Muggle artifact!" he cried excitedly. "Is it one of those three PM players? Or is it that Eye Pot sort?"

Lucius rolled his cold, grey eyes in disgust. "It's an iPod, you Muggle-loving milksop."

"Chaos," muttered Snape in a steely voice. "Utter chaos."

"Enough." Dumbledore's voice rang out clearly over the din. "What must I do to stop you from flailing about? For the last time, stand the proper width apart and control yourselves. What have I said about coordination and grace?"

Wearily, the six men reformed their line and started the music once more.

Wanna share my bed with a warm blooded lover, wanna bring a wild man back home!

Tapping their feet in time to the music, each man spun successively to face Dumbledore, and they all began the Wriggling of the Shoulders.

Gotta have some hot stuff, baby, this evening, I need some hot stuff, baby, tonight, gotta have some lovin', got to have love tonight...

In unison, the men walked the length of the office and back again, making sure that their asses were on prominent display, and then they started on the pelvic thrusts. The arm pumping, happily, was kept to a minimum, and no one's crotch knocked anyone off balance, though Hagrid and Lucius had a rather close call.

"Brilliant!" cried Dumbledore when the performers had struck their final pose. "There's plenty of room for improvement, you should know, and it will get a bit more difficult once you're taking off your robes, but on the whole, you've done well."

"I expect Dumbledore'd have summat ter say about that," agreed Hagrid brightly.

Remus nodded his approval. "A butterbeer sounds like a brilliant idea, Hagrid. Shall we go to the Three Broomsticks?"

"Right you are, Remus," said Arthur. "But I'd better be getting back to the Burrow before long. No doubt Molly will have found new, as-of-yet-unknown methods to henpeck me while I was away."

Recalling the previous evening's tête à tête with Hermione, Snape snorted, half in disgust and half in agreement with Weasley. "Very well, the Three Broomsticks it is."

The six would-be dancers hurried out of the castle, narrowly escaping from the security guard, who was no longer under the Petrificus Charm, and headed down the path toward Hogsmeade. Hagrid, as usual, was allowed the Invisibility Cloak, which did not cover him completely and left him as a pair of legs hidden in the middle of the group.

However, they did eventually reach the pub and order their butterbeers, at which point Lucius remarked,

"You know, we didn't do badly today at all. The Mudblood-lover seemed pleased." He took a swig from his foaming mug and went on, "If this continues thus, we'll have to see about performing. That is, after all, how we're going to get the Galleons."

"P-performing?" quavered Arthur. "In front of... " He swallowed convulsively. "... w-witches?"

"No, mysterious American Muggles and prisoners from Azkaban," snapped Snape. "Of course witches. As Lucius said, how else do you expect to make any gold?"

Arthur bit his lip nervously. "With g-strings and the whole bit? H-how soon are we going to be... you know."

"In a week," declared Snape firmly. "I've 'til then to give Hermione the child support money." That is, unless we reconcile, he continued mentally, feeling Snape Jr. twitch at the memory of their kiss.

"A week!" howled Lupin. "Have you gone mad?" Burying his face in his shabby robe, he moaned wearily. "But... but Luna said it took them at least a month to get new routines at the Horny Horklump!"

With a nod, Moody agreed, "I dunno, Snape, this seems a bit fast. We don't even have a catchy name like the Runespoors."

"I expect Dumbledore'd have summat ter say about that," Hagrid chimed in.

"A name would be a good selling point," mused Lucius.

"Yes, but 'The Pathetic Middle-Aged Lap Dancing Idiots' just doesn't have the same ring to it as the 'Runespoors,'" grumbled Snape, taking a long drink of his butterbeer. "And as to performing, we'll need costumes, advertising, and all that."

"We'd need a suggestive one," spoke up Arthur meekly. "Like the 'Broomsticks' or the 'Ashwinders.' Something like that. Oh! What about the Firebolts?"

Thoughtfully, Lucius said, "The Firebolts. I like it. Weasley, you are one creative blood traitor."

"Firebolts it is," agreed Snape. "If we're going to humiliate ourselves, we might as well have a memorable name." Finishing his drink, he stood. "Well, I've some things to see to. I'll be at practice tomorrow, seven-thirty sharp." He waved goodbye to his fellow Firebolts and Apparated straight to Spinner's End.