The pop of someone Apparating into the room echoed around the office, causing Severus Snape to look up from a pile of second-year essays.
"Ah, Pettigrew. You got my note."
"Y-Yes, Master Snape. Y-You needed my help?"
Snape got up from his seat and walked over to where the stout man crouched.
"Yes. As you know, the Dark Lord is in need of an heir."
"What about the Malfoy boy, sir?"
"Yes, Draco. But, you see, the boy wasn't blessed with my—" Snape gave his greasy hair a small toss. "—looks."
Pettigrew gave a small twitch of confusion. "I'm afraid I d-don't understand, sir."
"The Dark Lord needs an heir, Pettigrew," repeated Snape, his voice seeming even more monotonous than usual.
"Sir, I'm no alchemist—" His eyes widened, and he gave the man a small, shrill laugh. "You couldn't possibly be suggesting—"
Snape's lips curled up into the slightest smirk.
"No, you can't—y-you c-can't be serious—!" The rat tried to scurry away, but the man grabbed his wrist, stuffing a flask of gray potion into his open mouth.
"Drink." Pettigrew's features began distorting rapidly as he swallowed the liquid, and Snape let him fall to the floor. The rat twitched nervously, staring at his attacker as he found his way to a mirror.
"…Bellatrix, sir? Really? Oh, why can't you just sleep with her in the first place?"
"She only wants to get inside Lord Voldemort's robes, you know that. Somewhat pitiful, though…she doesn't realize that what the Dark Lord lacks in a nose, he also might lack elsewhere…"
The pseudo-Bellatrix grimaced, trying to focus her attention on something else.
"Is that…Muggle music you're listening to, sir?"
"Tell me, Pettigrew. Have you ever heard of a murderous wizard barber?"
"Uh…no, sir."
"Precisely. Well, the Polyjuice won't last forever, come on."
"Sir, I really don't—"
"Must I Confund you?"
"I think I'd enjoy it, sir."
"Oh, come on." Snape grabbed the rat-witch's wrist, dragging her off to the bedroom.
"…Well, that was rather dissatisfying, sir. N-No offense, sir."
"You know you enjoyed it."
"You know this won't work, sir, don't you?"
"…I suppose. But I did get to have sex with Bellatrix Lestrange. It's a shame she isn't too strange in bed, really."
"Well, you know I'm not rea—" Pettigrew felt the tip of a wand press against the body's temple.
"I could give you some advice right now, Pettigrew. It starts with 'A' and ends with 'vada Kedavra'. Do you want to hear it all together, little rat?"
"N-No, sir!" He raised Bellatrix's hands in meek surrender.
"Then never speak of this, understand?"
"Definitely, sir!" Pettigrew bolted out of bed, grabbing clothes and wand, and quickly Disapparated.
Snape settled back in bed, raising an eyebrow as he tossed a glance at the portrait of Salazar Slytherin hanging on the wall.
"What?"