101 Chapters Why Severus Snape Hates His Life


Disclaimer: All the stupid arguments the characters have are mine... but nothing else is.

.2.

Chapter 2: Meetings

As it turned out, Severus Snape didn't kill himself the night of the slumber party.

He returned home that evening and vented his anger in an altogether more satisfying manner: he burned the evil pink bunny footy pajamas to a crisp. Unfortunately (but pretty predictably, when he thought about how shitty his life was), they were made out of some foreign muggle material, which really shouldn't have been burned in close quarters. Synthetic muggle trash, he thought. He inhaled the fumes for too long before finally disposing of the burning material, so his lungs felt like they were coated in plastic and chemicals. He spent much of the night coughing. God, muggles are stupid. For a moment, he experienced a powerful urge to call Lucius and go muggle-hunting.

The important point, however, is that he didn't kill himself. Now, one month later, he was seriously regretting his forbearance.

It was August 28, and as if things weren't bad enough already, he knew he was facing the imminent return of hundreds of blithering idiots to Hogwarts.

.2.

He Apparated in front of Number 12, Grimmauld Place and stood outside, staring at the house, for a few moments. He really didn't want to go in there. He'd come to hate Order meetings far more than Death Eater meetings. The Dark Lord was annoying, of course, but for the most part, Snape felt comfortable and at home with everyone else (except maybe Wormtail and Bellatrix), which meant that he didn't always find those gatherings unbearable. Order meetings, on the other hand, were always torturous -- mostly because of Sirius Black. Snape had enjoyed so many wonderful Snivellus-free years, and now, thanks to Harry Potter's stupid decision to help Black escape the dementors two years previously, he had to hear that name at least three nights a week, depending on what was going on and how often he needed to report. He took a couple of deep, steadying breaths, and rang the doorbell.

He knew exactly what happened when someone rang the doorbell: Sirius's lovely mother would start screaming and howling an assortment of colorful epithets. Snape enjoyed it, simply because he knew that it drove everyone inside the house crazy. And driving a house full of people nuts was definitely worth the minimal amount of damage Mrs. Black's shrill screams might do to his ears. He smirked slightly at the sound of Sirius's mother screaming: "MUDBLOODS -- FILTH -- SHAME OF MY LOINS -- GOOD LORD WHY THE BLOODY HELL DIDN'T WE USE A CONDOM?!?!"

...What the hell? thought Snape. Did she just say "why didn't we use a condom?" That was a new one. Did Mrs. Black usually say that? Surely not... Just then, Molly Weasley opened the door and saw Snape standing there with a thoroughly confused expression on his face. Seeing her, he forced his face into a mask of inscrutability and entered the house.

"How many times have we asked you people not to ring the doorbell?!" she fussed.

Sirius's mother was still screaming: "BLOOD TRAITOR -- DISGRACE TO THE HOUSE OF MY FATHERS -- FILTH -- I KNEW I SHOULDN'T HAVE SMOKED POT WHEN I WAS PREGNANT WITH YOU!!!"

Impressive, Snape thought, Mrs. Black is in rare form tonight. Molly pointed her wand at the portrait, and the curtains slammed shut. He followed her into the kitchen, where Remus Lupin, Sirius Black, Nymphadora Tonks, and Alastor Moody were already seated around the table.

"Evening, Snivellus!" called Sirius.

"Ah, Black. On my way in, I had the pleasure of listening to your charming mother loudly lamenting your conception. Finally a matter on which the two of us can agree."

"I bet there's plenty you would agree on, you treacherous--"

"That's enough!" snapped Mad-Eye. "No one has time to listen to your preschool bickering. Let's get down to business. Snape, sit down and give your report."

Irritated at being ordered around like a child, Snape refused to sit, but he decided to get the report finished as quickly as possible so that he could leave. Even the Dark Lord's antics -- whatever they might be -- would be less annoying than sitting in the same room with Black.

"Currently," began Snape, "the most immediate concern is the number of Ministry officials who have been placed under the Imperius Curse. Joan Wilson and Robert Liamson are two of the most recent. There are others, but I cannot divulge the identities of those individuals because I have not yet been informed--"

"And why is that?" interrupted Sirius. "You think if you just give us a couple of names, you'll be able to satisfy us and keep the majority of your little Death Eater plans a secret at the same time?"

"Hold your tongue, Black, or I will remove it for you," hissed Snape.

"Please, guys," said Lupin. "Just lay off each other."

Sirius ignored him. "So you can't answer my question, huh, Snape?"

"I meant what I said about ripping that insolent tongue of yours out of your head, Black. Apparently you have no regard for your physical safety. Clearly I was mistaken in thinking that it was of the utmost importance to you. I've long assumed that concern for your physical well-being was your primary reason for locking yourself up in this filthy deathtrap you call a house. Now I see that perhaps it isn't cowardice so much as a simple matter of overall worthlessness--"

"Enough of that!" yelled Mad-Eye.

"Oh, I see, Snivelly," said Sirius. "You think your job is so difficult? What do you do exactly? What's so hard? You get to hang out with your old school chums all day and--"

"Ah, I understand, Black," said Snape silkily. "You seek to downplay the importance of what I do because you feel that your own labors are unappreciated?"

"I said that's enough, you two!" hollered Mad-Eye.

"Well, never fear," continued Snape, smirking. "I'm sure everyone present is eternally grateful for your steadfast devotion to housecleaning--"

"Shut up, Snivellus! SHUT UP, or I'll rip your slimy--"

"Has that deranged little house elf of yours taught you anything about service, Black? Perhaps you could rent yourself out to a rich pureblood family and spend all of your time cleaning their shi--"

"Someone needs to teach you something about cleaning, you greasy little twat! I swear to god, I'll--"

"You oughtn't be bitter, Black," interrupted Snape. "Rest assured that I, at least, appreciate your efforts. I am frequently regaled with tales of your fine accomplishments. I understand you and Potter managed to chase off an especially large colony of spiders yesterday. I commend you both on your grueling and noble--"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP, BOTH OF YOU!" bellowed Mad-Eye.

Snape and Sirius stopped arguing immediately and turned to look at him. Everyone in the room was staring at them as if they'd both lost their minds.

"Now I'm getting pretty sick and tired of this," said Mad-Eye furiously. "And I'm pretty damn sure everyone else would agree with me. Snape, do you have anything else to contribute?"

"Not as yet--" he began.

"Fine," interrupted Mad-Eye. "Then you can just shut your trap for a few minutes and listen to Remus's news."

Snape opened his mouth to reply, but just then, he felt his cell phone vibrating in his pocket. (He'd put it on vibrate because he was sick of hearing Master of Puppets every time the Dark Lord called, which was far too often). He rushed into the next room to answer the call. (There was no way he was going to pull out the phone in the kitchen where Sirius could see what color it was.) He glanced at the caller ID and saw that it was Lucius.

"Hello?" said Snape.

"You've got to get over here," said Lucius.

"You'll have to wait. I'm in a meeting. The Dark Lord hasn't summoned me yet."

"Well, it's not the damn Dark Lord that needs you!" cried Lucius. "It's everyone else! We can't understand what he's talking about?"

"What do you mean?"

"Riddles! He's speaking entirely in riddles!"

"Well, what do you expect me to do about it?" he snapped, feeling extremely irritated.

"We need you to come translate! You're better at this kind of stuff than we are."

"It will have to wait, Lucius. I'll be there as soon as I can."

"Alright. Fine, then," said Lucius, sounding put out. "We're at the Dark Lord's old house. Just... hurry!"

Snape hung up the phone and sighed. The Dark Lord is speaking in riddles? And of course, no one can deal with it without my help, he thought. Great. This promised to be another award-winningly fun evening. He walked back to the kitchen.

He must have had a strange look on his face, because Black took the opportunity to say, "What's wrong, Snivellus? Does the Dark Lord need you to change his diaper for him?"

"...What?" asked Snape. Black had never had much of a way with words, but that insult didn't even make sense.

"Oh, I think you know what I'm talking about, Snape."

"Pardon me," Snape sneered, "but I seem to be slightly confused by your vile, base fecal humor--"

Mad-Eye pointed his wand at Snape and growled, "Shut your mouth. One more word, and I swear I'll blast you to next Tuesday. Just give me a reason."

"Hah!" exclaimed Sirius, grinning.

Mad-Eye turned to him and said, "You too. You're just as bad. Don't think I'll hesitate to knock you out of your seat." Sirius stopped smiling. Mad-Eye looked back and forth between Sirius and Snape, who said nothing, and nodded his approval. "Neither of you is to speak for the remainder of the meeting, unless you're spoken to." He turned to Lupin and said, "Now that that's sorted out, go ahead and give us your report."

Lupin gave his report as briefly as possible, then Tonks gave hers. Snape wasn't really paying attention. After everyone had spoken and asked whatever questions they thought were relevant, Mad-Eye ended the meeting. Molly announced that dinner was ready, and Snape turned to leave.

Before he could escape, however, Sirius called out, "Enjoy your class reunion, Snivelly!"

Snape turned to look at him. "Enjoy your housecleaning," he said softly. He glanced at the ground and caught sight of a sliver of onion, which Molly had apparently dropped. Quicker than Sirius could react, Snape whipped out his wand, conjured a mop, and threw it at him. Pointing at the onion, he snapped, "You missed a spot, Black."

"YOU SLEAZY BASTARD, I OUGHT TO--"

But Snape was out the door before Sirius could finish his retort. As the door slammed behind him, Snape could hear Mrs. Black screaming again ("MUDBLOODS -- SHAME OF MY FLESH -- I SHOULD HAVE GOTTEN A HYSTERECTOMY"). Smirking, he stepped into the night.

.2.

When Snape arrived at the Riddle house, he was feeling pretty optimistic. The Order meeting had gone fairly well, all things considered -- after all, he had pissed Black off to an extraordinary degree. That had been quite satisfying. So he walked up the path and knocked on the door without hesitation.

Dolohov answered the door and muttered, "Thank god."

He followed Dolohov into the house and surveyed the living room to see who else was there: the Dark Lord, Bellatrix, Lucius, Rabastan and Rodolphus Lestrange, Alecto and Amycus Carrow, and Wormtail. Everyone looked either nervous or agitated. Lucius was brushing his hair like there was no tomorrow, which he did whenever he was distressed, and which seemed to be his only coping mechanism. Bellatrix was cracking her knuckes compulsively. Manly bitch, thought Snape. Alecto was studying her fingernails with abnormal interest. Rabastan was tapping his foot so vigorously that he looked as if he'd been hit with the Tarantallegra jinx. Rodolphus was crossing and uncrossing his legs every 30 seconds. And Wormtail was squirming so much that he looked like he'd been trying to suppress the need to take a piss for hours. Only Amycus seemed unaffected by the tense atmosphere, which was probably because he was too dumb to know that he ought to feel uncomfortable.

Snape strode into the room and knelt before the Dark Lord, kissing the hem of his robes and thinking all the while, I hate my life, I hate my life, I hate my life. The robe-kissing tradition was, possibly, Snape's absolute least favorite thing about being a Death Eater. The feeling of degradation that went along with it wasn't even the main issue; his biggest problem with the ritual was the fact that it was indescribably disgusting because the Dark Lord didn't seem to have the sense (or the common courtesy) to locate a goddamn washing machine.

When Snape stood up and backed away, the Dark Lord said, "Riddle me this, riddle me that, here is my Death Eater who looks like a bat!"

I'm going to kill myself, Snape thought. "Yes, my Lord. I apologize for my tardiness. The meeting ran longer than expected." He didn't mention the fact that it was partially his own fault -- after all, things probably would have moved along more quickly if he hadn't wasted so much time taunting Black.

"All the world seeks it, though without it there's bliss," riddled Voldemort.

Oh god, thought Snape, he really sucks at making up riddles. This is even worse than the time he decided that he was only going to speak in rhymes... though not nearly as bad as the three months he spent speaking in limericks. It took place about 16 years ago, but Snape still vividly remembered the abominable limerick phase.

"Are you referring to knowledge, my Lord?" asked Snape.

"Depending on the question, my name will be feared or be praised; though I'm not on a chest, my name rhymes with breast."

"The word yes? As in, yes you desire knowledge, my Lord? You wish for me to give my report?" Snape knew good and goddamn well that 'yes' didn't rhyme with 'breast,' but the Dark Lord had already demonstrated his inability to rhyme during both the accursed 'rhyming phase' and the 'crucio/Fabio' fiasco a month ago.

"Depending on the question, my name will be feared or be praised; though I'm not on a chest, my name rhymes with breast," Voldemort repeated. Snape assumed that this meant 'yes' again.

Fighting down his annoyance, Snape said, "The Order are concentrating their energies on securing the Ministry and Hogwarts from infiltration, my Lord. Dumbledore remains ignorant of the numerous Imperius Curses which have been placed on Ministry officials. He plans to allow the Ministry to play a significant part in the security surrounding Harry Potter."

What a bunch of horseshit, he thought. The Dark Lord was academically and magically brilliant, but he still lacked almost all common sense. As usual, he would take this information at face value and go about his business, oblivious to the fact that nothing Snape said was actually of any use. The only person who ever seemed to pick up on this fact was Bellatrix, but she was so crazy that no one bothered to pay her any attention.

"News of this sort is always most welcome, sought with great fervor, hoped for each day."

"So... you're essentially saying that this is good news?" asked Snape. God he sucks at this. I hope I die soon.

"Depending on the question, my name will be feared or be praised; though I'm not on a chest, my name rhymes with breast."

"I'm glad you are pleased. Is there any other information you require of me, my Lord?

"Depending on the question, my name will be feared or be praised; though I am not a slut, my name rhymes with ho."

"No?" asked Snape. "Very well, my Lord. Is there any other information you wish to impart to us?"

"Only this thing," began Voldemort, "I now go to the place where dreams take flight, the place where you go in the dead of the night."

"You're going to sleep?To bed?" asked Snape. Oh no, the stupid bastard is rhyming and riddling.

Voldemort nodded. Apparently he'd gotten sick of repeating his 'chest/breast' line. "And this I must ask, you must do as I say; until this hour you must at this house stay: This hour is darkest, the time of bewitching; 'till this hour comes round, don't think of ditching."

"Midnight? You need us to stay until midnight?"

"You stay lest I wake before this darkest hour, but if I still slumber when midnight comes round, you may do that thing which you do at a green traffic light."

Why does god hate me so much? Snape asked himself. "Go? So... you need us here until midnight, in case you wake up and decide to go muggle-hunting or something? But if you haven't gotten up by midnight, that means you plan to sleep until morning, and we may go?"

"Depending on the question, my name will be feared or be praised; though I'm not on a chest, my name rhymes with breast." The breast line was back.

Everyone in the room nodded, and Voldemort got up and wandered upstairs. They watched him with bated breath, terrified that he would come back down and give them one more ridiculous riddle. After a few moments, they accepted that he was really gone. They breathed a collective sigh of relief.

Snape walked across the room and flung himself into a chair in the corner. Lucius dragged his chair over to where Snape was sitting and sat down. Snape glared at him. "Are you telling me you honestly couldn't figure that shit out?"

"The riddles were harder earlier! You should have heard him trying to discuss Quidditch! You got off easy," said Lucius.

"Still. You people are pathetic."

"It's not so much that we couldn't have figured it out if we had to. It's just that no one could stand to listen to him for long enough to guess what he was trying to say. You're a lot more patient than we are."

"Well, what did you say when he wouldn't stop talking to you?" asked Snape.

"We sort of just nodded or shook our heads. Actually, it got so bad at one point that Wilkerson went upstairs and killed himself."

"He actually killed himself?!"

"Yeah. He disappeared for about half an hour, so Rabastan went up to check on him. He found him hanging from a rope, which he'd apparently conjured and tied to a chandelier," said Lucius.

"What started the Dark Lord on this riddling kick, anyway?" asked Snape. "Is it a play on his last name, or something?"

"No. He's been watching Batman Forever nonstop for the past four days. He thinks the Riddler is cool."

"Oh my god. Joel Schumacher deserves to be killed."

"Of course he does," said Lucius. "He's a muggle."

"Yes, but my point is: he directed that trash. He deserves to be killed twice," muttered Snape.

"You guys want a drink?" called Rabastan from across the room.

"No, I want seven drinks," replied Lucius.

"Bring me something strong," said Snape.

They sat in silence for awhile as they waited for their drinks to be brought to them. After a few minutes, Rabastan walked up and handed Lucius and Snape their drinks. "What the hell is this?" asked Lucius.

"It's Firewhiskey," said Rabastan.

"I know the damn drink is Firewhiskey. What I want to know is why the hell it's just one Firewhiskey. Where are the other six I asked for?"

"I thought you were trying to be funny!" said Rabastan.

"No, it wasn't a fucking joke, you--"

"Well get it yourself, then! What do I look like, a house elf?" Rabastan stalked off across the room.

"I thought I made that request pretty goddamn clear," muttered Lucius.

"Yes, you did a fine job of communicating your desires," Snape said mockingly.

Not noticing Snape's rude tone of voice, Lucius continued, "Oh, listen, I meant to ask -- would you like to come have dinner at the Manor tomorrow night with Narcissa, Draco, and myself?"

"That would be nice. I haven't seen Narcissa in weeks."

"You haven't seen Draco, either."

"No, but he'll be back at school soon, anyway," returned Snape. "Has he had a good summer?"

"Ah..." Lucius hesitated. "He seems to be having some anger management issues. He's been irritable with everyone. I think it's partially because that dratted Mudblood keeps scoring higher than he does on all of his exams. And, of course, there's Potter, who's an even bigger issue. From what I hear, the filthy little muggle-lover spends most of his time parading around school, showing everyone up. Everyone thinks he's so special. It's favoritism, I tell you!"

"You sound like me. It's true, though: Potter's resemblance to his father -- in terms of both appearance and personality -- is uncanny," spat Snape, irritated at the mere mention of the brat.

"Draco's mood has improved somewhat ever since we bought him that dart board and pasted Harry Potter's picture on it."

Snape ignored this comment. He was looking at Bellatrix, who was heading toward them. He groaned as she pulled up a chair and sat down. "Well, Snape," she said. "I see you're the Dark Lord's favorite again -- the only one who understands him well enough to solve his riddles."

"Can't you give it a rest for five minutes?" asked Snape, sighing. He watched as Dolohov, Alecto, Amycus, and Wormtail dragged their chairs toward his corner. So much for peace and quiet, he thought. Rabastan remained on the other side of the room. He was yapping animatedly at Rodolphus and shooting filthy looks in Lucius's direction. Rodolphus looked exasperated but didn't seem to have the energy to tell his brother to shut up.

"What the hell took you so long getting here, Snape?" asked Bellatrix.

"Oh, I just decided to sit around and diddle myself for 45 minutes after the meeting with the Order ended," he snapped. Bellatrix looked shocked, and Snape realized she had taken him seriously. "Good lord, you miserable, gullible little psychopath! What the hell do you think I did? I already told the Dark Lord -- I sat through an agonizingly long meeting and then came straight here!"

"Diddled yourself? What does that mean?" asked Wormtail.

"You're such an idiot, Wormtail. He was being sarcastic," said Dolohov.

"Yeah -- a sarcastic, vulgar pervert," interjected Alecto.

"Well, you can just cover your delicate, virgin ears, if I offend you," spat Snape.

"There is nothing virginal about Alecto, let me assure you," said Amycus, laughing at his sister.

"This is why I wish I didn't have to work with you--" began Alecto.

"So how is Yaxley faring?" interrupted Snape, looking for a way to change the subject.

"Not so well," said Dolohov.

"How well do you think he could be doing, Snape? You shot his balls clean off!" cried Bellatrix.

"Well, where is he?" asked Snape.

"I expect he's wandering through an American ghetto," replied Lucius. "He's developed a pretty nasty crack habit, you see."

"Yeah, good job, Snape. You managed to fuck another one of us over. Do you wake up every morning with the intention of royally screwing every poor soul who unwittingly crosses your path?" asked Bellatrix.

"I was under threat of torture, you beastly, foul-mouthed trollop!" hissed Snape.

"Can you guys not do this right now?" asked Dolohov. "I already have a headache."

"Yeah, tonight was awful," agreed Amycus. "I don't know why I ever signed up for this job."

"Because you wanted to kill Mudblood filth?" suggested Bellatrix.

"No, I think it was the masks. Which are cool. And the Mark. I always wanted a tattoo, and when I found out that some Dark wizard was running around, giving them out for free, I just got caught up in the moment."

Lucius rolled his eyes and pulled out a silver cigarette case. "Anyone else want one?"

Bellatrix, Dolohov, and Amycus held out their hands.

"Oh, I wish you wouldn't," Snape grumbled. "It really aggravates my sinuses."

"With a nose like that," said Amycus as he lit his cigarette, "I bet that's a lot of aggravation!" He guffawed at his own joke. Wormtail laughed, but everyone else glared at Amycus disdainfully. It was well acknowledged that Amycus was painfully stupid. Next to him, Neville Longbottom looked like Dumbledore. To Snape's knowledge, Amycus only knew two spells: Avada Kedavra and Crucio. The Imperius Curse was beyond his abilities because it required thought.

Lucius ignored the comment and said, "You should really take up smoking, Severus. It would help alleviate some of your stress."

"I already told you: I'm allergic to it."

"You know what else would alleviate your stress? Getting laid," said Bellatrix scathingly. "Unfortunately, since no one in their right mind would ever sleep with you, you'd do better to go ahead and pick up smoking. Or maybe you could go looking for someone who isn't in their right mind. Try St. Mungo's. I think Alice Longbottom is still there. ...Or maybe you'd prefer Frank?"

"I wish I had a time-turner, Bellatrix," said Snape. "If I ever get my hands on one, I'm going to journey to the past and try to convince your mother to abort you. And if she refuses, I'm going to push her down a flight of stairs in her ninth month."

Bellatrix scowled. "Someone needs to put you in your place, you smug, pretentious bastard."

"And do you think it will be you, Bellatrix? Do you think you could hold your own for even five minutes in a duel with me? I think not. You might not be as easy to castrate as Yaxley, but I'm sure I could do some serious damage to your reproductive organs if I had a mind to try."

Dolohov snorted. "That'd be a real tragedy. If you neutered her, she wouldn't have any reason to go around trying to snog the Dark Lord behind Rodolphus's back!"

"You can't neuter a woman," Alecto pointed out. "You spay women."

"How dare you imply such a thing, you--" began Bellatrix.

"Oh please. Don't pretend you're not obsessed with him. Everyone knows," said Dolohov.

"I would never betray Rodolphus!" cried Bellatrix indignantly.

"You'd have to if the Dark Lord told you to," said Wormtail.

"Yes, well so would you, you grubby little wanker!" yelled Bellatrix.

Wormtail blushed, and everyone laughed -- even Snape. "Has Bellatrix touched a nerve, Wormtail? Have you been secretly lusting after our Lord? Naughty, naughty..."

Bellatrix howled with laughter. "Come on, Wormtail! Tell us your innermost fantasies!"

"I'm not sure I'm prepared to hear the intricacies of Wormtail's sexual inclinations toward the Dark Lord," mused Snape.

Wormtail's cheeks had turned a blotchy red, and Bellatrix laughed even harder. "Ah, don't be such a spoilsport, Snape! Tell us, Wormtail, what sort of sordid activities do you engage in at night whilst you think about the Dark Lord?"

"Ugh. Quit that, Bellatrix. I think I just threw up in my mouth a little bit," said Lucius. The others laughed hysterically.

"Twisted though your mind is, Bellatrix, I'm impressed with your capacity for imagination," said Snape. Apparently, the only time he and Bellatrix could get along was when they were making fun of someone else -- preferably Wormtail.

"I'm going to bed!" yelled Wormtail.

"What, you're sleeping here?" asked Amycus.

"Naturally he's sleeping here," said Bellatrix gleefully. "The proximity of the Dark Lord makes his fantasies seem so much more realistic!"

"No! I'll leave at midnight, just like everyone else! I'm just going into another room to get away from YOU!"

"Heh. I don't think he appreciates your comments, Bellatrix," said Alecto.

"Ah, I'm sure it isn't Bellatrix in particular he's angry with," said Snape. "He's merely frustrated and displeased with his situation. Unrequited love can be quite maddening, I'm sure."

"HAH! Get thee to a nunnery!!!" cried Bellatrix. Though Snape and Alecto were probably the only ones who picked up on Bellatrix's allusion to Shakespeare, everyone laughed uproariously.

"Hmph! I don't need this!" screamed Wormtail, and he rushed out of the room, pursued by the sound of jeering laughter.

"When you get upstairs, give the Dark Lord a kiss from me!" mocked Bellatrix.

As the hilarity subsided, Snape realized that he was exhausted. The cigarette smoke was hurting his eyes, too. As the others wiped away tears of laughter, he asked, "Does anyone know what time it is?"

"10:30," replied Lucius.

"I believe I'll go home before I start having too much fun," said Snape.

"Go home? The Dark Lord said you had to stay until midnight," said Dolohov.

"Well, if he wakes up, tell him I'm going by Pacific time."

No one got the joke. He sighed and added, "Should the Dark Lord wake, please inform him that I was summoned by Dumbledore and had to leave."

"But you haven't been summoned," Amycus pointed out.

"Thank you, Amycus, I'm aware of that."

"I'm not sure telling him that you had to go visit Dumbledore is going to be a good enough excuse," said Alecto.

"Very well," said Snape. "Tell him that I had to go kill a truck-full of puppies. Or that I felt the need to make prank phone calls to the Muggle prime minister. It really doesn't make any difference to me. Goodnight."

And with that, he got up and walked out the door, nodding at Rabastan (who was still sulking on the other side of the room) as he went. Rodolphus had fallen asleep, so Snape didn't bother to acknowledge him.

He walked to the street, turned on the spot, and apparated just outside the gates of Hogwarts. All in all, he thought cheerfully, the night wasn't nearly as dreadful as it could have been. ...Well except for the riddling, of course. Maybe now he could go home and enjoy a bit of peace. He was just beginning to feel a bit more optimistic about his lot in life, when he suddenly remembered that Harry Potter would be returning to school within the next few days. Dammit. I hate everything.

.2.


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