Snapeycorn

Long time ago, just after HBP was released, I wrote a fic called Unicorn Punch, and illustrated it. Sadly, that was not the only Snape-as-unicorn I came up with since then...

Eta: I've included the PG-rated fic below, not quite compatible with DH canon sadly (Disclaimer: The characters depicted in this image (c) J. K. Rowling, Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic, and Warner Brothers),

Unicorn Punch

Oh Merlin … that party had been a truly horrific experience. As he woke, Severus screwed his eyes shut against the cruel morning sunshine, and rubbed a hand on his face. It was a vain attempt to ease the hangover that was threatening to cause his brain to explode. It was then that he found it … found something that protruded obscenely from his forehead. Something short, hard, twisted and horn-like, the base of which was fixed to his skull. Oh, great Severus thought … one of the other death-eaters must have hexed him in his sleep for fun. When he found out who’d messed with him, well … they’d pay.

His fingers checked over the rest of his face, to find out if more ‘damage’ had been done. Though everything else seemed normal, he noticed that his hair felt much longer and wavier than it should be. Also, his ears were a different shape, and he was able to wiggle them. OK, he was clearly going to have a little chat with that bitch Bellatrix. Her little party tricks were starting to get pretty old … and then he wondered why it was suddenly felt awkward for him when he tried to stand up.

Looking down over his body for the first time, he found his robes had ripped open in many places – due to having changed form into something more equine. Well, centaurian to be more accurate, since he still had his arms as well as the other four legs. Whatever … the remains of his clothing were now wrapped and hooked around limbs that no longer fit them. Which would explain why standing up had been difficult.

As he disentangled himself, he checked over the rest of his body. In his estimate, the person responsible for that transfiguration had done a pretty slapdash job on him. While Severus could see that he now had a long black swishy tail, a pretty flowing black mane (plus picturesque tufts of black greasy fur on his wrists and ankles), most of his body remained naked. He still had his normal body hair (in all the appropriate places), but there was an extra set of armpit hair under his front legs as well (great ... just great. You just wait, Bella…

Checking his feet, he found that he or she who did it failed to get the cloven hooves quite right either. What Severus had to walk with now resembled more the feet of a young camel, with a big, square humanlike nail on the end of each great toe. The effect would have seemed comical to him, had it not been for the fact that:

(a) He currently had a raging hangover
(b) He currently was in a vile mood – due (in part) to the reason stated above, and:
(c) They were HIS feet, Damnit!

Muttering curses to himself under his breath, Severus struggled to his feet, and picked up his torn robes. Somehow, he had to find a way to fix them up and get them back on his body before the others woke up. After a few minutes experimentation, he had managed to rig them up into a crude, caparison-like outfit for himself. Thus clothed, Severus imagined that he now looked just like a unicorn centaur in knight’s charger drag – but at least it kept him warm and covered up. Now that he was decent, he trotted off to kick the rest of the Dark Lord’s goons awake.

* * *
None of the other death eaters present at the orgy appeared to have any clue as to what could have happened to make Severus undergo such a change. Not even when he slowly blasted his way through a row of empty firewhiskey bottles (to help jog their memories and torture their hangovers…. But even Bellatrix had nothing to say – which was unusual of her.

Well, that puts me in a bit of a fix he thought. Apart from wondering how the Dark Lord was likely to take the news that his Top Man was now partly a unicorn, he realised that, until he found out how he got that way in the first place – he was now stuck in that form. He could try some experimental counter-hexes on himself - but considering that the change was slightly botched in the first place, there was too much risk of incurring another, more unhealthy mishap.

But there was still just one more thing he wanted to question them on. While Pettigrew scurried to clean up the broken glass, Severus fixed the sorry-looking huddle of death eaters with his fiercest Glower Of Death (the dramatic effect of this enhanced by having his refitted robes swirl in just the right way, when turning to face them again). “Has anyone here been playing with the potions cabinet last night?” he snapped. Blank faces looked back at him. Idiots. Then he had an inspiration …

“Bring me the punch bowl – and nobody cleans it until I have a good look at it, or I’ll hex your eyeballs into dust!” he ordered. Moments later, a huge vat of finely cut lead crystal sat on a table before him - still half-filled with a smelly, lumpy, melon-red slush.

While the others watched nervously, Severus began to wave his wand slowly over the contents, muttering to himself “… no wonder … traces of stale polyjuice, werewolf saliva, dragon dung … you morons do realise, don’t you, what dragon dung with werewolf saliva can do to you when combined with alcohol … don’t you?” (They stared back at him like a row of stunned house elves)

“… Nux vomica, powdered amber – oh hell, that’s going to stop the polyjuice effect from wearing off for sure,” Severus continued, his voice growing more menacing, “But none of this would work together unless …” he continued to concentrate while they looked on. “Mooncalf dung? Hen’s teeth? Rooster’s eggs? Unicorn blood? Dragon fat?” he continued to mutter. Pettigrew began to grow nervous – he looked like he was about to wet himself…

“I was only trying to help fix things!” he finally squeaked. Severus stopped scanning and looked up. Something started coming together in his mind …

“I swear it!” Pettigrew continued, now quite hysterical “all the others had been fiddling with the punch all night, putting stuff in it from the potions cabinet to see what would happen …” - the little man was cowering by now - “ … and when I saw you coming to get some, I put some of that bezoar essence into it”.

“Bezoar essence, you say?” Severus said, softly. Pettigrew flinched. “And what did the container look like?” Severus asked. “Um … it was that big silver vial – over there!” he pointed to a shelf, where a fat vial corked with a wad of dragon hide sat. There was a spill of something silvery down its side. Oh Merlin … he thought. Just to make sure, he checked inside the punch bowl. Sure enough, he saw a tiny smear of silver on the side of the glass – so now he knew. The little rat was going to pay for his stupidity …

“You fool!” Severus hissed, and Pettigrew looked like he needed to change his pants. “That was not bezoar essence! … How you ever managed to resurrect the Dark Lord without disintegrating him first I’ll never know!” Severus, (without thinking) then swished his tail, stamped his foot, tossed his greasy mane and pointed his sharp, stubby horn straight at Pettigrew’s heart.

“Sooo…” He said, while the other death eaters - who were glad to be finally out of the firing line - crowded around the little man to stop his escape. “So, then …” Severus continued - prancing stealthily towards him & brandishing his horn “… it was unicorn blood. You fool - you put unicorn blood in my punch - and until I can work out the antidote I’m probably going to be stuck like this!”

… Then Severus Snape - part-time death eater and ex-potions professor - lowered his horn and charged.