It wasn't as if he wanted to be here but he'd drawn the short straw at the last meeting. Why the Dark Lord insisted that someone attend to "pay our respects" was beyond his comprehension. And if Jerome Eveladle had used his brain for something other than preventing his head from deflating, Severus Snape wouldn't be surrounded by strangers in a muddy cemetery. For Merlin's sake, how difficult was it to duck?

When Severus was jostled from behind, he turned to the offender, intending to glare his displeasure. Instead, he blinked.

It was similar to viewing a Muggle neon sign. The woman's bright cloud of hair was far too blonde to be natural. Her makeup was excessive and while her garments were expensive, they were both garish and too tight. His gaze slid over her large breasts and he idly wondered how she was able to keep them inside the low cut neckline. He suspected a sticking charm.

"Oh, I'm so sorry. Excuse me," she babbled apologetically. "It's these heels." She gestured toward her shoes. "They sink in the mud." She extended her hand. "I'm Angelique Rothschilde."

He examined her hand for a long moment and then finally shook it. "Severus Snape."

"Shhh." The hiss came from somewhere behind them as the eulogy droned on.

She lowered her voice to a breathy whisper. "Were you a close friend of the deceased?"

"Not particularly. We... belonged to the same club."

"I only knew him through business. He was a manager at the station where I work. I'm an actress on the Wizarding Wireless Network." Her tone became self-important. "I play Portia on Spellbound."

Severus gave her a blank look.

"Um, you know, Spellbound? The daily serial on the wireless? Dangerous intrigue? Hidden passion? Love in the afternoon?" She arched an eyebrow and gave a little grin.

His eyes narrowed in confusion.

She sighed. "Never mind."

He shook his head. Under normal circumstances, he would have already driven the woman away with a cutting remark, but the view of her breasts was quite magnificent. He decided that enduring a certain amount of insipid conversation was an equitable exchange.

She craned her neck and looked through the crowd at the open casket. "Oh, my, doesn't he look peaceful?"

"Actually, no. He looks dead. I've never understood why people have such difficulty distinguishing between peaceful and dead."

She looked taken aback and was silent for a time but finally spoke again.

"Um, this is a little embarrassing to admit but I don't even know how Mr. Eveladle died."

Severus grimaced. "It was a potato."

"A potato? Oh, poor thing. He choked? That must have been awful."

"He was shot."

Her expression turned puzzled. "I thought you said he was killed by a potato."

"He was. He was shot with a potato."

Her mouth dropped open.

"By a Muggle." Snape's voice dripped disdain. "They make some sort of projectile device that shoots potatoes. Ostensibly for amusement."

"Shhh." Again, someone hissed at them from behind and Severus glowered in their general direction.

"But... Can you really kill someone by shooting him with a potato?" she asked slowly.

Severus frowned. Really, there was only so much stupidity that he was willing to endure in exchange for merely viewing her breasts. If this continued, he would insist upon touching them.

"Obviously so. The man is dead, after all."

She opened her mouth to ask and he cut her off. "The short version: Muggle. Eveladle. Wrong place. Wrong time. Potato. Confused expression. Failure to duck. Dead."

"You know, somebody told me that they thought he might be a..." She looked around carefully before leaning closer. "A Death Eater."

"Not a very good one," Severus muttered.

"Pardon me?" She leaned closer and her breasts were pressed delightfully against his arm.

"Nothing." He subtly shifted closer to her. Or perhaps not so subtly as he thought for there was suddenly a speculative look in her eyes.

She placed her hand on his arm. "You know I've always wondered if what they said was true..."

Severus tilted his head inquisitively.

"You know, about men with big noses..." Her voice trailed away suggestively.

Ah. That old wives tale again. Severus was torn between indignation that she was inquiring into such a personal matter and elation that she might be interested in finding out firsthand. So to speak.

When he hesitated, she became slightly impatient. "Well?"

"Shhh," was hissed at them again.

Severus turned in that direction and scowled. "Do you mind?" he snapped.

He turned back to his companion with a slight smile.

"So, is it true?" She was positively purring.

Severus knew that he shouldn't do this. He had obligations. Then he thought of those obligations. His two masters - Dumbledore and Voldemort - were separately waiting on his report of the funeral and what was said, who attended and how they acted.

There was really no contest.

He arched an eyebrow. "Madam, if you were to use one honest word to describe my nose, what would you choose?"

She studied his nose thoughtfully. "Enormous."

He stared at her in pointed silence.

Her eyes widened in comprehension.

They stood there quietly while she absorbed that information. Severus could almost see the wheels turning in her little brain. He counted silently to himself. Three... Two...

"Severus, would you like to stop by my place for a drink after the service?"

He smiled and patted her hand. "I think that could be arranged."

By the time she discovered it really was just an old wive's tale, hopefully things would be far enough along that she wouldn't care. He gave the casket an almost friendly glance. If he'd known that killing Eveladle with a potato would lead to this, he'd have shot the man himself.

Author's Notes: This was a result of a request from LiveJournal friends for a parody with Snape as the star and featuring comments made regarding the lethal nature of the potato gun. ;)