A/N: Umm… it's been awhile. Again. My apologies.

Standard disclaimer applies.

Chapter 11: In Which Snape and Harry Converse

Voldemort began considering how to unveil his master plan. Conventional wisdom dictated that he should have enlightened his followers to what they would be doing previous to arriving in Volterra, but since when had Voldemort been conventional? No, he had decided to wait for the perfect moment, the moment when one of his Death Eaters, caught up in rash excitement, near-delirious with the wonderment of all they were about to accomplish, would beg of him to know…

"Um, what exactly are we doing now?" Wormtail asked, though he was addressing Malfoy and not Voldemort.

"That's what I would quite like to know," Malfoy replied irritably. "We are here, walking mindlessly through tunnels that have yet to lead anywhere. There is some plan or other we're suppose to be executing, right?"

"Something to do with vampires, eh Goyle?" Avery asked to the Death Eater on his right.

All of them were quite oblivious to the vicious glare Voldemort was giving them. His eyes narrowed, his hand itching to grab his wand and blast several of his Death Eaters into oblivion. But he knew he couldn't afford to. Not if he were to defeat the Volturi and become the ruler of the vampires. He shook off his feelings of displeasure and looked up.

"Ah! Another grate!"

Snape was bored. He sat in his office, only shifting intermittently to alter the focus of his mindless staring. There were, of course, numerous things of interest to look at: the ceiling tiles, the floor, the books across the room, the various potion bottles lying about, his desk…

He really had nothing to do.

Hogwarts was unusually quiet. There was no mischief-making for him to find, no life-or-death situations requiring his interference. He loved life-or-death situations, especially when they involved Potter. Especially if he had the chance to decide whether he would give in to his personal loathing of the boy and let him die or save him to spite Voldemort.

Snape considered himself a freelancer. He liked having the ability to decide on his own free will what he should do and then being able to blame it on whichever side was convenient if need be. He found it a bit reminiscent of being like Laurent. He appreciated belonging to the team with someone powerful, villainous or otherwise. But he also thought he had a conscience, one that required him to at least consider what the right thing to do was. He would, in Laurent's place, certainly have gone to Denali and tried his hand at abstaining from human blood. But, he also understood that that might just not have worked out. Such was life.

Snape groaned. He wished Voldemort was getting himself killed – brutally.

He stood up and walked out of his office, his cloak swishing reassuringly behind him as he made his way down the corridor. He saw no one lingering about. There was nothing more satisfying than seeing his students hastily make their way toward the edges of the hall to avoid being in his way and incurring his wrath. The absence of fearful students was rather disappointing. He sighed. His ears perked up, though, at the sound of another sigh – a much louder one – down the hall. Snape sighed louder. The answering sigh was not only louder, but so miserable sounding that Snape felt a twinge, be it a very small twinge, of pity. But he also felt indignant. Who dare sigh louder and more wretchedly than him?

"Who's there?" Snape asked authoritatively, brandishing his wand. Only another sigh met his ears.

"I said, 'Who's' – POTTER!" At the sound of his name, Harry started, looking up to see the menacing eyes of his least favorite professor at Hogwarts (naturally discounting the professors who had worked implicitly for Voldemort and had attempted rather blatantly to kill him). Harry sighed again.

"Stop sighing, Potter! What ever the pathetic excuse for your melancholy and depression is, I don't want to hear it! Cease your moping and return to your dormitory! Immediately!"

"I can't."

"Why would that be, Potter?"

"I simply can't."

Snape chuckled maliciously. "Forget the password?"

"No, nothing like that."

"Someone trying to kill you in your dormitory?"

"No, not today – as far as I know, of course."

"Then why, Potter?"

"Well, you see Professor, there's this… oh, never mind." Harry sluggishly got to his feet, not even bothering to try defying Snape. He simply wasn't up to it. "I'll go to the library. The only people there will be reading… no, can't go there. Sn – I mean, Professor Snape, would anyone be down in the dungeons right now?"

"Why in the world would you go down there?" Snape couldn't help wondering what could possibly be wrong with Potter. He might hate him, but this was disturbing. He had never seen Potter so… pathetic? Maybe it was indicative of Voldemort's progress in Volterra. Snape could only hope. That made him wonder, though… "Oh, Potter?"

Harry's retreating figure, determined to find somewhere quiet even if it were the dungeons, turned to look at Snape.

"I am curious about something, Potter. Have you ever read Twilight?"

Harry appeared as if someone had punched him in the gut. No, not just someone: a very strong and handsome bronze-haired vampire. He doubled over, dazedly speculating on what was more worrisome – the nauseating feeling in his stomach or his light-headedness. He decided on the latter as he felt himself beginning to drift forward until he was on the ground in a near faint.

Snape, watching Potter with slight horror yet a smidgen of satisfaction, walked over to Harry's fallen figure. Towering over him, he stated, "I'll take that as a yes. Something you would like to talk about?" Harry, still suffering from shock, managed to move his head in a motion that left the observer free to interpret it as either a positive nod or negative side to side shake. Snape decided on the former and said, "Good," before grabbing Harry gruffly by the shoulder and proceeding to drag him to his feet and back down the hall to his office.

Harry moaned something that, to one who was in the know, sounded like "Not Edward Cullen," but Snape, being more familiar with the Volturi than any other characters of Twilight, was unable to discern the garble and pushed Harry rather roughly into a chair upon reaching his office.

"Alright Potter, begin."

"Begin what?"

"Talking about Twilight." Snape smiled expectantly. He hoped that he could learn something from Potter that would either give him an upper hand over Voldemort in his obvious obsession or learn some news of the Dark Lord and, Snape hoped, his current failings.

Harry looked at Snape giddy expression wearily. Why, of all people, was it Snape who came across him and had to enjoy his melancholy? He abruptly ceased his wallowing and began speaking crossly. "You want to revel in my misery? Fine. Edward Cullen is a vampire. From what can be gathered from every breathing female in this school, he is the epitome of chivalry, selflessness, and intelligence – not to mention his dashing good looks. He falls in love –"

"Potter, stop your little tirade." Snape sighed in exasperation. Potter's misery had nothing to do with Voldemort. "From what you are telling me, I am to believe that your self-pitying originates from feeling inferior to a fictional character, who, even if he were alive, lives on an entirely different continent and is, I believe, already taken. This is irrelevant. If you are unaware, and you must be if your only concerns are about your pathetic self-image being damaged by pointless comparison with a character in a book, the Dark Lord is making a rather extensive tour of Volterra, Italy in search of your vampires."

Harry looked unconcerned. "I know."

Snape frowned. "You know?" he asked skeptically.

"I've been getting erratic flashes of his trip. I've decided I don't care."

"You don't care?"

"No. I've tried planning. I've tried telling people. No one cares. And quite frankly, why bother?"

"Why bother?"

"Well, if Voldemort really finds the Volturi – rather big 'if' – he'll probably be sucked dry. Good so far. If not, he'll try to bargain with them to make him into a vampire. Well, if what Edward," Harry flinched involuntarily, but continued, "believes is true about a soul being lost in the process of transformation – kind of a bartering tool for immortality – Voldemort is at a lost, having split his soul and hidden the pieces into Horcruxes –" Harry paused in horror as he realized what he had just said. Snape appeared unsurprised, though, at the mention of the Horcruxes. "Anyway," Harry continued hastily, "no soul means no vampirism. Also good. And, if he doesn't find them, well, everyone else has enjoyed a bit of time uninterrupted by him and his Death Eaters wreaking havoc everywhere." Harry glared pointedly at Snape. Snape ignored him.

"And then he'll be back for you to take care of again."

Harry gulped. "Right."

"Well, it seems you've thought this pretty well through," Snape said, rising from his chair. "One question – if he does manage to become a vampire, what will you do then?"

"I'll have bigger problems to deal with."

"Really?"

"If he finds the Volturi, there will be a very strong implication that… other… characters… from… Twilight… are… real…" Harry started hyperventilating at the thought.

"And this would be bad?" Snape was almost gleeful at Harry's obvious discomfort and terror.

"You really have no bloody idea, do you?"

Harry got up from his chair, and with one last look of disdain toward Snape, he opened the office door and stepped back into the hallway. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Ginny walking toward the dining hall. He went to follow her, but he saw she was deeply absorbed in some sort of reading. He grimaced and stormed off in the opposite direction.