49.

RETURN OF THE REVERSE VAMPIRES

Nothing in this chapter belongs to me. I don't know who owns "Yummy Yummy Yummy."

"I'm On Fire" belongs to Bruce Springsteen. "Total Eclipse Of The Heart" is Bonnie

Tyler's, I guess. "Jeanny" belongs to Falco.

Update: my poem "Oh No" is in the premiere issue of Mouseion. "#75" will be appearing

in Decompositions, later this year.

Potter was in the living room, curled up on the couch, deep in THE HITCHHIKER'S

GUIDE TO THE GALAXY. He looked rather engrossed, and he was also munching on a

piece of bread. Distracting him was a pleasure.

"Potter," Snape said. "Have you seen the Headmaster?"

Potter looked up from the book. "Sir?"

"Have you seen," he said, pausing, not so much for effect as to let the words

sink through Potter's thick skull. "The Headmaster."

"Not for awhile," Harry said.

"What about Professor McGonagall?"

"I haven't seen her either, Professor."

----

"Albus? Albus, where-"

He apppeared in front of her

in the formless void

"There is no time here."

He kissed her, burning

"Only you and I."

Ancient as the stars

he snared her around the waist

-led her to the bed.

---

As he turned around, he heard Potter laugh.

He turned.

"Something funny, Potter?" IDIOT. "Never mind." He walked out of the room,

towards the stairs.

"Muh...uh, sir, I wouldn't go up there."

He turned from the stairs.

(Muh?)

"Are you telling me what to do, Potter?"

"Mr. and Mrs. Simpson went upstairs a while ago."

"I see," he said.

---

"HEY FLANDERS! YEAH, I SEE YOU IN THE WINDOW! EVER SEEN ONE OF THESE?"

"Maaaarge!"

"Oh dear LORD-"

Flanders fainted.

"Now," Marge said, her hair down and wild. "Where were we?"

---

"Well, what about Hagrid?"

"Haven't seen him in a while, either."

----

Fang scratched at the door.

Inside, something crashed to the floor.

Then, laughter. "Eh, Sprout, who put that floor there?"

----

He walked back into the living room.

He stood in front of the couch.

"Where is everybody?" Snape asked.

"Dunno," Potter said. "Except for Mr. and Mrs Simpson."

Right. Snape had never had to endure listening to his parents' upstairs activities

because they stopped all carnal activity after he'd been born. His father found a

substitute for that with his merciless, drunken beatings of Snape's mother. "He'll

change, Severus. Just wait. He'll change." He never had. The last thing he did on his

deathbed: he whispered "Come here," to Severus. Severus came. Then his father slapped

him across the face, made an absolutely disgusting sound in his throat, and expired.

Who else was here?

Moody-

---

"Hey, gorgeous."

Moody didn't turn. No one had ever called him gorgeous before.

The elderly woman tugged at his cloak.

"Mother, what are you doing?"

"Shut up, Seymour. I already told you, I'm looking for a man."

"Looks like y'already have one," Moody said, looking at Skinner.

Agnes Skinner looked up at Seymour. "Nah."

---

(Should I ask permission?)

As if he needed Potter's permission to sit down.

He sat down.

"I saw the DAILY PROPHET, Potter."

Finally, Potter put the book down.

"It's not true."

Potter didn't run from anything. Not unless there was no other choice.

"Just as long as your picture's in the paper, right?"

Potter didn't get angry or indiginant.

That was a bad sign.

(Come on, Potter, give me an excuse)

"It'll be in the Quibbler soon," Harry said.

"It might not be wise to spread yourself so thick, Potter. I've found that a little

of you goes a long way. When you rescued that prince-"

He smiled.

"Yeah," he said. "You're right."

"What?" (Are you AGREEING with me?!)

"I came here to help out, and they think I defected. It's funny, really."

Snape searched for a cutting remark.

He couldn't think of anything to say.

"What time is it?"

"The time is seven o'clock exactly, Potter. The sun just went down."

"'Battle Of The Evil Child Geniuses' is on at eight," Potter said.

"Typical," Snape said. He stood up, and as he tried to leave the room-

"Professor-"

"What is it, Potter?"

"Can I ask a question?"

"A question," Snape said. "After six years, you want to ask me...one question. Very

well, Potter, I shall direct every ounce of my intellect towards answering your

...question."

"Over the summer, I tried to-"

"The question, Potter, the question."

"It's coming. I wanted to see if I could totally reinvent myself-"

"And your question is why you couldn't do it, am I correct?"

"Yeah."

"Well, Potter, all I can say is that everyone has the potential to be evil, or

good...it's quite simple. You have a conscience. Voldemort has none whatsoever.

One of the reasons you're in bloody Gryffindor. You're so much like your father-"

"The Sorting Hat said I would have done well in Slitheryn."

"Did it say why?"

"I've figured out why," Harry said. "Dumbledore told me some of it, about how

there are qualities about me prevalent in Salazar Slytherin's most prized students."

"And what else do you think you know?"

"I think I would have done well in Slitheryn because you hated my father and if I'd

been in Slitheryn it would have been your ultimate revenge against him for

marrying my mother, because you loved her."

"...And how did you come to this?"

"Occlumency."

"That's not part of occlumency."

"Well, that and the fact that you've never once badmouthed my mother."

Snape looked away. "Your mother..."

"You loved her, didn't you?"

"Everybody loved your mother. Except, of course, her sister."

"Including you."

"YES, all right, Potter? I. Loved. Your. Mother. And James Potter-she and James

Potter-James Potter went and fell in love with her and every time I look at you I see

him laughing at me, but what really hurts is that you have her EYES. I can barely

stand to look at you sometimes, is that what you want to hear? You EXIST, and that

alone drives me to drink."

"Have you ever been happy, sir?"

"Once," Snape said. "When I thought your mother loved me."

There was a silence between them.

"I'm sorry," Harry said.

"I don't want your apology."

"What about thanks?"

"Thanks? For what?"

"For watching out for me. In first year."

"I knew I'd live to regret it."

"I'm sure Hermione's sorry for setting you on fire. And we felt kind of bad

about knocking you out-"

"You think so, do you. Well, Potter, your apologies are worthless. They mean

nothing to me."

"Didn't think they would," Potter said. "But Muh...I mean-sir...I wanted to say

them."

"Yes, well," Snape drew his wand. "Sentiments won't protect you from legillimency."

"I've been practicing, Professor."

"Have you now?" He pointed his wand at Potter.

"You don't wanna do that."

"You're wrong, Potter. I very much would. Maybe I'll see how you saved Black

in third year, or-"

"You don't have to try making me angry anymore, like last year." Potter said.

(He's onto me. How's this possible?)

"Sirius is dead, but you know what? My life is less complicated now. I don't

have to worry about him. And that gives me more time to concentrate on other things.

One of them WAS occlumency."

Snape felt as if the temperature in the room had dropped ten degrees.

"My ultimate revenge," Snape said, testing the words. "No, Potter, my ultimate

revenge would have been having you as a son."

They stared each other down

"I'm glad you're not my father," Potter said.

"Considering how you turned out, I'm glad you're not my son."

"Oh, right, I forgot. Draco Malfoy's your prize student."

Snape scowled.

"If you ever teach Defense Against The Dark Arts, I hope you teach him what

he really needs to know."

"What's that?"

"That defense doesn't neccessarily mean screaming and running."

Snape pointed his wand at Potter.

"Last warning," Potter said.

Snape smirked. "The Muggles have a saying, Potter. That saying is...just bring it."

Harry took a deep breath.

"LEGILLIMENS!"

-and suddenly the room shifted to a room he knew too well, it was his room, and

he was a teenager again, and he was huddled in one corner of the room, trying to

make the pain go away-he could hear his mother screaming at his father through

the door, and then there was the unmistakable airy noise of callused flesh meeting

a soft cheek, and he knew he'd slapped her again. He got to his feet and then his

father kicked the door in. Coiled around his red, bloody fist was a leather belt-

"Drop your pants," he growled, his voice several octaves lower than normal.

"Potter, STOP-"

-and then the scene shifted to another house. He stood alone in the backyard of

some suburban house. The house where Potter lived.

Potter appeared in the upstairs window.

Snape burst into song.

"Haaaappyyy biiirthdaaaaay toooo youuuuuuu..."

He began unbuttoning his cloak.

"-haaapy biiirthdaaaay toooo youuuuu..."

His cloak fell to the ground. He removed his boots.

"Haaappy biiirthday deaaar Haaaa-reeeeee..."

Then he removed his socks.

Haaapy biiirthdaaay tooo youuuu..."

He moved on to his pants.

"And maaaa-ny mooooore-"

-and then he was on the couch again.

"I told you not to, Marvin." Harry said.

Snape jumped to his feet.

"Marvin? Who's Marvin?"

"I don't want to make you feel worse."

"WHO...IS...MARVIN?"

"Marvin the Paranoid Android," Harry said. "You-"

"No."

"He reminds me of you."

Snape swallowed.

"We'll discuss this later. You're lucky I've been forbidden to take points away

while we're here."

He made for the hall.

"Professor?"

"...yes?"

Potter smiled. "Don't panic."

---

The beauty of the night sky was absolutely lost on Draco, but the stars

certainly enchanted Blaise. They weren't supposed to be in the Astronomy

Tower this late, but-

"They're late," Draco said.

"Patience, Draco."

"Right. Good things come to those who wait. I've heard that one a million times.

I prefer not to wait, Blaise. I prefer to grab everything before anyone can stop me."

She looked over at Draco. He wasn't going to be a handsome man at all, not with

that permanent frown on his face and that attitude. Yes, she was a Slitheryn, but

she didn't share any of Draco Malfoy's outlook on life.

"What's it like?"

"What are you talking about?"

"You haven't been able to do magic for days."

"When I find out who's got my powers-"

The door in the floor opened.

Pansy stuck her head into the room.

"Millicent's behind me," she said.

She climbed into the room. Blaise wondered what Pansy Parkinson would do for a living

after she finished school. Pansy would probably travel the world and kill people for

her own amusement. As for Millicent Bulstrode, she would probably find work as a

female wrestler.

Millicent climbed into the room.

"Well," Pansy said, "We're all here, so-"

"Look, Pansy, what's this about?" Draco asked, already bored.

"It's about Potter, Draco."

"What about Potter?"

"Stop interrupting me and I'll tell you. Now, I heard that Potter's going on a

date with Angelina Johnson on Saturday-"

Millicent laughed. "Once you go black-"

"Millicent, shut up. Potter is going on a date with Johnson Saturday, in

the town where that dotty janitor exchanged places with Hagrid."

"I hope they keep him," Draco said. "Maybe they have a zoo."

Pansy had to laugh at that one.

"How did you hear about this?" Draco asked.

"The usual channels," Pansy said. "Johnson told Katie Bell, who told one of her

other friends and it spread. You know how things get around in this place. It's

impossible to keep secrets. The walls listen. The paintings talk to each other.

Anyway, I happened to be around the corner when she told Bell."

"See, I told you that gets results."

"What, whining and hiding?"

Draco rolled his eyes.

"Anyway, it's a chance to make Potter look like an idiot."

"I'm for it." Draco said. "Any chance to make Potter look bad-"

"I don't know-" Blaise said, and the other three turned on her. "Don't look

at me like that. The POTTER STINKS buttons didn't work, and ridiculing his

friends didn't work, and neither did joining Umbridge's goon squad. Do you

even remember why you hate Potter, Draco? Is it because he's always kicking

your arse at Quidditch?"

"I shouldn't have to tell you why I hate Potter," Draco said, his eyes wide. "Why

don't you hate him?"

"I've only talked to him once and he was nice."

"What did you talk about?" Pansy asked.

"Nothing, really. I dropped my Arithmancy books and he happened to be standing

there and he said 'Here, let me get those,' and he picked up my books and carried

them into class like a gentleman. I said 'Thanks' and he said 'No problem' and

then I realized it was him. 'My name's Blaise' I said. 'Blaise Zabini' and he

said 'Harry. Harry Potter.' Count me out of this stupid plan, whatever it is."

Blaise made her exit.

"Blaise is no longer one of us," Millicent said.

"Oh, well, the three of us are more than enough," Pansy said.

Draco smirked. "Parkinson, you're such a disease."

In the shadow of the telescope, they planned. Afterward, they slipped away, off

to bed. For a long moment, the Astronomy Tower was absolutely still.

Then the side of the telescope slid open, revealing an alarmed-looking Filius

Flitwick. Underneath him, so as not to crush him; Celeste Sinistra.

"We have to tell Dumbledore," he said.

"We will, Filius, we will. But I'm not done with you just yet."

She slammed the telescope shut.

---

Snape faced the mirror. Stared into it.

"I think you ought to know I'm feeling very depressed."

(it's TRUE it's TRUE IT'S TRUE)

---

He opened the front door-

-and the dog jumped on him; Santa's Little Helper licked Snape's face.

"Down, boy," he said.

He didn't feel the same way about animals as he did most people.

The dog scrambled into the house as he left.

He went outside, slamming the door behind him. He stood on the front step, staring

into the sky. There were stars everywhere tonight. Was it beautiful? Had he

lost his ability to tell? What was beauty, really? Music was beautiful. The works of

Shakespeare were beautiful. The art of potion making. The ladies of Hogwarts. Minerva

McGonagall, Madame Hooch...Selma-

"No," Snape said, balling his hands into fists. "No, no, bugger it, NO."

The street seemed to stretch for miles. It was too big for him.

He walked around the side of the house; before he got very far, a little boy

with curly hair stuck his head over the hedge.

"Are you the Devil?"

Snape had the impression he was standing on someone's shoulders, the way he was

weaving. He wore a shirt that read GOD IS THE ANSWER. Snape wondered how many

questions there were.

"What is your name?"

"Rod Flanders. That's my brother Todd, down there."

"Raa-awwd," Todd whined. "Don't introduce me to the Devil."

"Are you the Devil, mister?"

"Why, yes, Rod. I am the Devil. I've heard so much about you. A pleasure, finally

crosing your path-"

Those two kids screamed and ran faster than anyone Severus had ever seen.

He managed to smirk.

The backyard was empty.

Except for the treehouse.

Snape could hear voices coming from above.

There was a ladder of rope leading up to the house.

It turned out to be sturdy.

Remus Lupin was up there, and he was surrounded by kids.

"Severus. What a surprise."

"Lupin, you're the only adult I've seen in the last hour."

"Milhouse here was just telling me why. Milhouse?"

"We-ell," Milhouse said, "It's the Rand Corporation. They did this once before."

Lisa Simpson rolled her eyes, but the rest of the kids agreed.

"Yeah," Milhouse said,"They turned all the adults into reverse vampires."

"...reverse vampires," Snape repeated. "And what of forwardly mobile werewolves?"

"He relegated his lycanthropic status immediately," Martin said.

"How fortunate."

"Told us what now?" Nelson asked.

"Didn't you hear me? I'm a lycanthrope."

"Duuuuude," Nelson said. "You can eat metal?"

"No, Nelson, I'm a werewolf."

"Have you ever eaten a human being?"

"No, I haven't."

"Ha HAAA. You suck at being a werewolf."

Lupin grinned. "Tell Professor Snape about your NUKE THE WHALES poster."

"Another time, perhaps," Snape said.

He descended the ladder.

For some reason, he began thinking of the Defense Against The Dark Arts position.

"Quirrell...possessed and dead..."

Snape sat down at the picnic table.

"Lockhart...amnesiac and alive. Lupin. Lycanthrope and alive."

Inside the house, the phone rang.

"Moody...technically, Barty Crouch Jr...worse than dead."

The ringing ceased.

"Umbridge. Insane and dead."

A shadow fell across the lawn.

"Awww, who's dead NOW?"

Snape turned and saw Chief Wiggum.

"Evening, Chief. I was just...talking to myself."

"Oh yeah, I hear that a lot."

Ralph Wiggum rushed past. He was barking like a dog.

"Wiggle Puppy," Wiggum explained.

"I see," Snape said, even though he didn't. "Did you just wake up?"

"We've been awake for awhile. Someone did some work on me while I was out. I

got shot in the ass. The wound's been cleaned and dressed, and the bullet's gone."

Snape decided not to ask how he knew that.

"The more I hear about this Riddle guy...well, I'm sure you know how we feel about

terrorists in this country."

Thomas Marvolo Riddle, Lord Voldemort, a terrorist?

(what does that make ME?)

"I've heard," Snape said.

---

He leaned in close to Ralph's ear.

"Look at 'em, Ralph."

Ralph turned.

"They've gotta burn, laddie. Both of 'em gotta taste the flames. Even if 'e is

your father."

"But daddy-"

"-and then y'gotta burn this town to the ground. And maybe Shelbyville too. Eh,

there's no maybe about it. Shelbyville gets roasted, too. Burn, burn, burn, burn

burn, burn, BURN."

---

And then who should turn up in the cool night but Selma.

"Hi, Severus."

He bowed to her.

(Just being polite. I have no feelings for her whatsoever, I'm just...being...POLITE)

She sat down, far too close to him.

(When am I ever polite to anyone? Well, discounting my colleagues?)

He couldn't let her fall for him. It wouldn't be right.

"Selma-"

"What is it?"

She leaned into him.

Then she put her hand on his knee.

He jerked away.

She laughed.

"Professor Snape," she said, "Am I scaring you?"

"It takes considerably more than that to frighten me."

"Am I moving too fast?"

He didn't answer.

(Come on, Severus, she's attracted to you. How long has it been, Severus?)

"Would you at least look at me?"

(Have I ever had consensual intercourse?)

Snape turned to her.

"I want you to know that...I'm very attracted to you. I don't care if it's wrong.

I've fallen hard for men before-ah, you don't want to hear that."

She lit up a cigarette, and took a few puffs.

"Are you attracted to me?"

"I don't know," Snape said.

"I understand."

"You don't want to get involved with me," Snape said. "I lead a complex life."

"Who doesn't?"

"Look...falling in love with me is the worst choice you could possibly make. I have

no idea how I'd even begin showing you affection-"

"MACGYVER," she said. "You've gotta be a MACGYVER fan."

"I've never seen an episode of MACGYVER. I'm not capable of anything resembling

love, Selma. It's been wrung out of me, like a sponge. I am but a dry dishtowel,

an...an empty colostomy bag."

"There's no love in your tummy?"

"...what?"

She began to sing. Her voice was full of cigarettes and whiskey, like Janis Joplin.

Or at least his muggle great-uncle Murray.

"Yummy yummy yummy, I got love in my tummy, and I feel like loving you..."

"What an awful song," Snape said.

She laughed. "I know...I think the author had a bad case of the flu."

Snape did not laugh, or smile or react at all.

"Once, I was capable of happiness. I smiled as easily as you do. I-"

"-coulda had class, right? You coulda been a CONTENDER."

"I don't understand-"

"Marlon Brando," she said. "Haven't you ever seen a Marlon Brando movie? Haven't

you ever seen THE GODFATHER?"

"Yes. But I honestly don't care for this society. It's sick. I prefer to stay as far

away from it as possible."

"You've never even seen THE WILD ONE. That's terrible. There's one line you'd love."

"And what line is that?"

"This cop asks Brando what he's rebelling against, and Brando says 'Whaddaya GOT?'"

Snape thought about it.

"Doesn't that move you at all?"

"Shakespeare moves me. Philosophy moves me. The art of potion-making moves me."

"See, you're not so bad. You've given your life to intellectual thought-"

"I gave anything resembling a real life up long ago when I joined forces with the

Dark Lord."

If she'd been wearing glasses, she would have been looking over the tops of them.

Just like Dumbledore.

"The Dark Lord?" she asked. "You've gotta be kidding me. Does this guy have a name?"

"We do not speak it."

"Oooh. How very DUNGEONS AND DRAGONS. C'mon, what's his name?"

"It's not for you to say."

"It wouldn't be...Voldemort, would it?"

"...how do you know that?"

"I asked around. You know, your colleagues have a high opinion of you. So do your

students, even if you hate every one of them."

"I don't hate my students."

"You hate Potter."

"Yes, and the more I hate Potter, the better it is for him."

"What does that mean?"

"Selma, I used to be a servant of the Dark Lord...now I only serve Hogwarts, and

Professor Dumbledore...but the pull of evil is strong."

"I know, I've seen STAR WARS."

"Dammit, woman, this isn't some movie, this is SERIOUS. This is...cosmic. The

battle between Yin and Yang, Good and Evil-and I am sorely tempted by the darkness.

But Dumbledore...you know, even after all the things I did, he took me in? I'll

never be able to repay him. If the Dark Lord knew I admire Potter, my

life would mean nothing. It's better for myself and for Potter if I hate him."

"Does The Dark Lord-" she pumped her fingers up and down-"have a real name?"

"I don't-"

"What is it, Myron Kabotchnik?"

"Thomas Marvolo Riddle."

"Jesus. No wonder he changed it. Probably got teased every day."

"You have no idea-"

"You think I should be afraid? Uh-uh. I've been married twice. You can't even

say his made-up name without cringing."

"SILENCE-"

She raised her voice. "Yell all you want. I'm not afraid of him. I'm really not

afraid of his name. Voldemort. Voldemort-" Now she was really yelling-"Voldemort,

VOLDEMORT VOLDEMORT VOLDEMORT-" and he slapped her.

It surprised him more than it surprised her.

(that's just what your FATHER would have done-)

She put a hand against her cheek.

"You hit me," she said.

"I cannot, will not allow you to share my life, you stupid woman, don't you see?"

"Yeah? Then why are you still here?"

Snape realized that there was only one thing he could do.

"Curiosity," he said, his voice shaking. "You disgust me. I look at you and

I imagine all the bacteria crawling around on your disgusting body. I find you

totally incoherent, and genuinely repulsive. You sicken me. I'm sure the very thought

of you will make me vomit later, until I am shriven of whatever may have given you

the incorrect impression that I could possibly even sit here next to you without

becoming ill. Right now, if I could wish for anything in the world, it would be

a paper bag, to put over your head."

"Severus-"

"You know what I think about when I see two people in love? I comfort myself in that

one of them probably has gonorrhea and they're going to be spurting cheese nonstop

for the rest of their lives. Have you ever seen Bergman's THE SEVENTH SEAL? Love

really, truly is the blackest of all plagues. Love is a disease. A sickness that

eats people alive and drives them insane. That is what you are to me, Selma. You are

nothing. You are the equivalent of...a pile of canine excrement being eaten by flies

on a hot summer's day. There. How do you like me, now that you know I'd rather eat

broken glass than look at you, you insolent fat pig?"

Without another word, she stood up, and in an instant, he was alone.

He sat there, trying to comprehend the magnitude of what had just happened.

It wouldn't jeopardize their relationship with the town, but-

(C'mon, Severus, forget her. You know you want to. Just as much as-)

Just as much as-

"Ahhh, BLAST it..."

(Just as much as you want to do good...and apologize.)

He launched himself off the bench and sprinted towards the front of the house.

There was a car parked across the street, but he didn't notice it.

"Selmaaaaaaa..."

He shouted it loud enough for the whole neighborhood.

"Sel-MAAAAAAA-"

Lights began to come on.

"SEL-"

"Hey, SHUT up," someone yelled.

Somewhere down the street, a dog howled.

"Selma," Snape whispered.

"Oh, I know," said someone behind him.

Snape turned, just in time to see a flash of crazed purplish hair, and the

crowbar heading for his temple.

He woke up, and felt the sensation of speed.

Snape had been strapped into the passenger seat. Except these were not seatbelts,

they were leather straps. They tied people down with these in asylums-

He turned his head, and recognized the driver.

Snape groaned. "Hello, Bob."

"Ah, Severus. Did you dream?"

"No," Snape said.

"When you do dream, do you remember what you dreamed about?"

"It tends to stay with me."

"Do you dream in color?"

"Black and white."

"Ah, yes, I figured your subconscious would be pure film noir, filled with

shadows and darkness."

There was a bizarre contraption on the dashboard, across from Snape, held together

with duct tape. It looked like a motorized set of Lego blocks, built to resemble

an arm. Attached to that was a handgun, a steely Baretta.

"What's that?"

"It's something I put together. The ultimate lie detector. Based on something

I saw in a comic book once. Ever read JOHNNY THE HOMICIDAL MANIAC, by Jhonen

Vasquez?"

"I may have confiscated an issue from one of my students."

"Well, at one point in the series, Johnny rigged his telephone to this robotic

arm, and rigged the arm with a gun. If someone called, and he answered, he

would die. But he figured he was safe, because no one ever, ever called him. But

then, somebody did."

"Who?"

"This girl...it's a long story. Anyway, he answered the phone. BLAMMO."

"Blammo?"

"This thing is programmed so that if you tell a lie, or if you choose not to

answer...well, I don't have to spell THAT out for you, do I?"

"No, you don't."

"Great. Then let us begin. Do you love Selma?"

Snape opened his mouth.

"I-"

The arm jerked upward. A jolt of electricity shot through Snape.

"I forgot to mention, it also delivers electric shocks," Bob said.

"Do you? Remember, if you lie-"

"If you kill me-"

The gun drew level to Snape's forehead.

"Do you love Selma? Come on, Snape-"

The hammer cocked.

"DO YOU LOVE SELMA?"

"I DON'T KNOW."

The arm began to shake. It let go of the gun, and the weapon fell to the floor.

The arm fell apart.

"Wonderful," Sideshow Bob said.

"Not very sturdy," Snape said. "What other entertainments do you have in store for

me, Bob?"

Bob switched on the radio.

"-did he go and leave you all alone, mm-hmmm...I got a bad desire...whoa-oo-oh,

I'm on fire..."

Bob sang along with it.

Snape listened silently.

"Don't tell me you're unfamiliar with the Boss."

"The Boss?"

"Bruce Springsteen, Professor. You look like a man who appreciates music."

"I do, but-"

Bob began flipping channels. Snape wished he would keep his eyes on the road.

Finally, he found more music. A guy speaking German over a slow beat.

"Falco," Bob said. "Best known for 'Rock Me Amadeus' and 'Der Kommisar.' This

song's called 'Jeanny' and the video was banned in Germany."

"Why?"

"The thing about this song is that it's a murder ballad. And in the video, there's

a scene where the murderer carries his victim through the woods. They didn't like

that part. It's strange, in Germany they ordered all copies of NEKROMANTIK II:

THE RETURN OF THE LOVING DEAD destroyed, but it's okay to watch videos of someone

ingesting fecal matter. Something's wrong with that."

They listened to the song.

"So," Bob asked. "Do you love Selma?"

"I've never felt this way about anyone," he said.

"BEAUTY AND THE BEAST. Very romantic. The whole concept of love is new to you, isn't

it?"

"No...I try to keep everyone around me at arm's length, except Filch."

"Filch?"

"The castle caretaker," Snape said. "I respect my fellow professors. I'd like to

think I have their respect. I may not have made the wisest choices, but-"

"We're here," Bob said, stopping the car.

"Where?"

"Selma's apartment building. And there's Selma."

Selma passed the car without looking at it, and headed towards the boxy,

crumbling building.

Bob opened the door.

"What are you doing?" Snape asked.

"Watch this," Bob said. He got out of the car. "Selma," he called.

Selma turned, illuminated by the streetlight above.

"Hello, Bob," she said.

"Listen, I brought someone over. He's quite a mess."

"Thank you, Bob," Snape said, in the tone Dumbledore used whenever he wanted

Snape to shut up. He opened the door, and leaned partway out of the car.

"Selma-"

"You've made your feelings clear," Selma said. "You don't need to say anything else."

"Excuse me," Snape said.

"Go for it," Bob said.

Snape caught Selma as she opend the door.

"Selma, I-"

"I'm glad you followed me," she said.

"You are?"

She slugged him in the gut.

In the car, Bob made a face.

As he doubled over, she kicked him in the crotch.

Bob crossed his legs.

It hurt, but then, Snape probably welcomed any kind of feeling between his legs.

Then, as he sank to his knees, she punched him in the jaw, sending him to the

concrete.

"That's for calling me fat," she said.

She opened the door, and entered the building.

Snape heard another door open. Bob was at his side.

He pulled Snape into a sitting position.

"Come on," he said. "Before you lose her."

"I've already lost her," Snape said, marbles in his mouth.

"You have NOT."

"Bob, have you ever heard the phrase 'Know when to stop?'"

"I never know when to stop. I'm a homicidal maniac, for God's sake."

He pulled Snape to his feet.

"Go in there and get her."

"That's some advice," Snape said, wobbling towards the door.

He opened it, and staggered into the building.

Then he remembered something.

"Bob, are you still there?"

"I'm here," Bob said, in the doorway.

"Which apartment is hers?"

"Third floor,at the end of the hallway." Bob said. "I almost forgot to mention...the

elevator is out of order."

Snape eyed the stairs.

Patty arrived at the apartment to find a strange man outside the apartment. He

was dressed in black from head to toe, and his hair hung about him like some

self-conscious goth kid trying to hide his zits. He was a young man, and there

was such sadness in his eyes. He had seen far too much. Actually, he looked like

someone had sprayed him with the contents of a giant-sized can of whoop-ass.

"Hey," Patty said.

"Are you Selma's sister?"

"Patty," she said. "And you are?"

"Professor Severus Snape," he said.

"Oh, yeah...you're from that school-what's it called?"

"Hogwarts. Hogwarts School Of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

Witchcraft and Wizardry and Whoop-Ass, she thought.

From inside the apartment: "-Turn aroouuuuund, BRIIIIGHT EYES-"

"Oh, great. You really dusted her cabana, didn't you?"

Snape leaned against the door.

"I made a dreadful mistake," he said. "I've been so blind."

Patty put a hand on his shoulder.

He looked at her, utterly wretched.

Inside the apartment, Selma croaked "-eeev'ry now and then I FALL APAAAA-ART..."

"I'll get her," Patty said.

She pounded on the door. "Hey PATTY. There's a GUY out here who DESPERATELY

wants to see you and if you don't open the door RIGHT NOW, I'm LETTING HIM IN."

Down the hall, a door opened and some guy poked his head into the hallway.

"People are trying to SLEEP-"

"Ahhh, go soak your head, Phil. SELMA-"

Someone slumped against the other side of the door.

"He's a WIZARD," Selma yelled. "He can open the door HIMSELF."

Patty looked at Snape.

"Are you a good wizard or a bad wizard?"

"I ask myself that question every day."

"Can you really open the door?"

"Yes," Snape said. "I can."

He pointed his wand at the door.

"Alohomora."

The locks disengaged.

The door swung open.

A potted plant sailed out of the apartment, missing them by inches.

It slammed into the wall and broke apart, crumbling to the floor.

"Well," Patty said, sweeping her arm towards the door.

Snape looked at her for a moment.

"...thank you."

Patty nodded. "Guess I'll go for a walk."

Snape crossed the threshold.

Then he closed the door.

Outside, the night was cool and pleasant.

She noticed Sideshow Bob's car.

She went over and knocked on the window.

It rolled down. Bob smiled.

"Ah. Good evening, Patty."

"You doing anything?" she asked him.