My second attempt at humor!  And yet another one of my little ficlets... I'm growing rather fond of those, especially since they are much less stressful than regular old fics that take forever to write.

This ficlet is about good ol' Moldie Voldie and.... well, you'll see.  I find it to be amusing, but then again, I have a slightly off sense of humor, according to my friends.  I find something hilarious and they'll be like, "what? I don't get it" so, yeah. 

Disclaimer: Lets see..... I own the following ::: the idea behind this fic, the pink lacy dress robes (well, I don't actually own a pair of them...), the daffodil patch, the quill and the piece of parchment and a whole buncha other stuff that I'm sure no one really cares to have me list :)  Voldemort and Wormtail belong to J.K, as do Minerva and Albus and Harry.  (And Quiet One, you are absolutely correct.... Grima is J.R.R's! ;)

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Daffodils

by Hollie

            At the edge of the quiet village of Little Hangleton, there was a hill.  On top of the hill was an old house that had once been a fine manor, but had slowly fallen into decay.  The house had boarded windows and ivy that had grown steadily over the years, now almost wholly encompassing two of the walls.

            For long years, the manor had been the subject of conversation among the villagers of Little Hangleton. The general opinion of the place was that it was haunted, but by who or what, no one cared to guess.  All the villagers knew was that in the last year, strange things had been going on up there.  People could hear moaning, and one time a man swore that he could hear shrieking.  Others claimed to have seen eerie flashes of light in the early hours of the morning. 

            This morning, however, the manor was silent.  The sun was just creeping up over the crest of the hill, beams of golden light squeezing through the cracks between the boards on the windows.  Inside the house, everything was still and motionless, until...

            "Yoo-hoo!  Petey!"  A hunched man with small, nervous eyes scurried over to answer the call of his tall and foreboding master.

            "Y-y-yes Master?"  His master smiled broadly, which had a rather distorting effect on his pale and drawn skin, and his lipless mouth did not look exactly accustomed to such a show of happiness.

            "Oh, don't seem so frightened young Peter.  It's only me!" he smiled again, his red eyes sparkling.  He began to fiddle with one of the sleeves of his black night robes that were trimmed with red fringe.

            "Um, Pete, may I call you Pete?"  Wormtail nodded uncertainly.  "Good.  Well, Pete, I was wondering if you could do me a teeny, itsy bitsy little favor...?"

            "Any-anything Master!"  His master grinned roguishly.

            "First off, please, call me Tommy."

            "Er, okay... Tommy."  At this point, Wormtail had become thoroughly confused.  What on earth had happened to his master, who was normally agitated and vengeful whereas now he was full of cheer and good will?

            "Oh goody!  Now, my second request is would you please iron my dress robes?  I'm having tea with Albus and Minerva later today, and I want to look my best!"

            "Certainly my Lo- uh, Tommy," Wormtail sputtered.  "Which ones?"

            "The pink robes please, the ones with the white lace trim.  I believe that they're in the back of my closet.  Be a dear and fetch it please?  Thanks Petey!  What would I do without you!" 

            Peter Pettigrew rushed off to his master's bedchambers, in search of the lacy pink robes.  He was astonished to see, as he combed through the Lord Voldemort's closet, that he did in fact own a pink frock.  He began to doubt not only the sanity of his master, but his own as well.

            "Yoo-hoo?  Tommy?  Tea with Albus Dumbledore?"

Later that day...

            Lord Voldemort, clad in billowing, rose-hued robes, came waltzing in through the rusty front door of the old manor, his face and the way he carried himself expressing his elation.

            "How, how did the tea go Mast--- Tommy?"

            Voldemort gave another roguish smile that Peter was slowly becoming accustomed to.

            "It was peachy!  And..." a color the same as his robes began to spread on his pale cheeks, "I think Minerva likes me!"  He giggled like a young schoolgirl.  "Now, if you'll excuse me Pete, I feel like frolicking in the Daffodil patch out yonder!" 

He skipped across the room and down to the back door, then outside to the back yard where a small garden, filled to the bursting with blooming daffodils, sat.  He then proceeded to skip and 'frolic', occasionally humming a happy little tune or two.

            "Oh Peter," he called in a lilting voice, "could you bring me a quill and a sheet of parchment?  I need to write a letter to that poor Harry Potter boy, you know, the one I've been trying to kill?  I really must apologize to him, for murdering his parents and all that. 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Voldemort woke up from his nightmare screaming.  His night garments were soaked in sweat and another liquid that would be preferable to him if not mentioned.  Peter Pettigrew, Voldemort's loyal servant, rushed into his master's room.

            "Master, master, what's..."

            "Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  No more!!!!!!!!!!!  Pink robes!!!  Tea!!!!!!  Tommy!!!!!!  AAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

            Peter watched, utterly bemused as his master ran out of the house, raving about daffodils.

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so, d'ya like it?  This is another one of the ficlets that I wrote a looooong time ago, and am just now posting.  I've been looking through my old work from a couple years ago and editing the stuff I like, then posting.  This ficlet was so much fun to write, and I personally found it amusing, so I posted!  I thought the idea of Voldie in pink robes was just toooo  funny.......... I know I know, I have issues.  Ah well, who doesn't now a days?!  Makes life more interesting, I think!

I would appreciate all input, positive or negative, but I ask you not to flame, because frankly, getting flames hurts and if there is any useful information at all in the flame, I will ignore it.  Criticism is welcome, but not outright flames.

Thanks a bunch guys, and Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Happy Kwanzaa and have a terrific New Year to all of you! 

luv always,

Hollie

(and don't forget that happy little button down there!)

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