Disclaimer: I wrote to JK Rowling, asking if I can borrow Severus Snape, but she's taking her time replying...So all the characters are still her property. –sigh–
Author's notes: I got the most amazing reviews for chapter one. Thank you so much! I just hope you guys like this one as much as the previous one.
You will find that this chapter contains fancy long words at sporadic intervals.
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I Never Wanted the Stupid World Anyway
Chapter 2: Of Bathrobes and Hibiscuses
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It was a typical morning. The sun rose lazily above the moderately merry village of Little Hangleton; diminutive birds cheeped innocently in the trees surrounding the Riddle House, rodents twittered in confusion and frustration, attempting to find their way out of the long slithering sack that was Nagini's stomach. One of them was missing a toe.
Meanwhile, Narcissa Malfoy was running around in her lacy nightgown, arms flapping like wings, long silvery hair soaring behind her, repeatedly yelling "Wormtail!" with occasional interjections of Unforgivable Curses. She too liked Swiss cheese, and was unhappy to see it gone. She was even less happy to discover that the suspected culprit was nowhere to be seen.
Having circled the dilapidating architectural structure that served the Dark Lord as headquarters several times, she tripped on a spare set of iron knuckles and landed gracefully at the aforementioned Dark Lord's feet.
"Narcissa, get me a quill, ink and parchment, quick." Lord Voldemort ordered unflappably. She scampered off to comply and was back within a minute.
Without an expression of gratitude, he sat down and started scribbling. He wrote numbers and letters, arranged them in tables and columns, he scribbled and criss-crossed, occasionally stopping to chew on the quill.
"Yet another plot against Potter?" A voice whispered into Narcissa's ear, making her jump and hiccup.
I wonder if Borgin & Burkes sells biting Howlers, she thought vindictively. I am poised and stylish. I do not hiccup when startled!
She turned around to see a conniving look on Severus Snape's face. The kind of look he was wearing when he transformed Lucius' cane into a fairy wand in revenge for using up a year's worth of Beautification Potion in two days, and sneaking into Snape's private stores to steal some more.
"Oh my god! Actually I, like, totally have no idea what he's, like, doing!" This is where the author's vendetta is accomplished. Biting Howlers? Who did she think she was?
Narcissa hastily covered her mouth with a pale hand as she realised the injudiciousness of the words she just uttered. Severus raised an eyebrow at her, and went back to looking conniving. He was holding what seemed to be a goblet of red wine.
"Would you like some wine, milord?" Severus asked nonchalantly. Voldemort ignored him, and continued scrawling at an unnaturally high pace. That's one thing he has in common with the future maiden of his heart, Severus noted.
He cleared his throat. Repeatedly. Until it sounded like he was choking. Voldemort was still bent over the parchment, scribbling, his forked tongue poking out from concentration. Severus leaned over the Dark Lord's shoulder, but did not understand the meaning of the numbers, letters and symbols that were scattered in a peculiar pattern.
"Are you sure you're not thirsty, your Lordship?" He enquired again, a bit louder.
"Shut up, you are distracting me!" He hissed in response.
"I would fancy some red wine, Severus." Narcissa said slyly. She was beginning to suspect that Severus is up to something, and he knew it.
"I brought it for the Dark Lord." He said stiffly.
"He clearly does not want it." Narcissa retorted.
"You can get your own wine!" He knew that sounded incredibly immature, especially coming from him. Severus scowled.
The author, who felt partially at fault in the situation, summoned a gust of wind to squall through the room, billowing out Severus' robes and making him look especially dark and ominous. Narcissa, who was still dressed in the frilly nightgown, shivered. Two Bowtruckles with one Gobstone, as the saying goes. Or however the say it in the real (magical) world.
"But Severus, I am thirsty!" Narcissa insisted.
He pointed his wand at Narcissa, showering her in a stream of cold water with a non-verbal Aguamenti!
An aberrant shriek echoed through the Riddle House, making the hairs on the necks of its few inhabitants prickle. With the exception of the Dark Lord, who obviously had nothing that would prickle... Ahem. I did not mean it in that way... Oh Merlin, please tell me that is not a biting Howler! Aaaaaaaaaaaaaah...
Moving on.
Lord Voldemort was so furious, that his anger ruptured the Occumulency block he had put on Harry Potter, and the Boy Whose Survival Instincts Were Just Too Fine experienced extreme physical and mental anguish.
"You are DISTRACTING ME!" He roared in a high-pitched hiss the way only he could. "BEGONE!"
And with that, he waved his wand.
Severus Snape, the goblet of wine, and Narcissa Malfoy disappeared in a cloud of lustrous smoke.
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Hermione Jane Granger was reading Hogwarts: A History, hoping to discover information on the Hogwarts founders and any artefacts they have left behind, which may have been Horcruxified. Ronald Bilius Weasley was eating porridge and thinking about death. Harry James Potter was rolling around on the floor, screaming in agony and agitation, for both his lightning-bolt-shaped scars were hurting him tremendously. Eventually, he got up and resumed his position at the Dursleys' coffee table. His two best friends didn't really pay attention.
"Rowena Ravenclaw had a magical butter spreader!" Hermione exclaimed. She eagerly turned over the page. "No, wait...that was claimed by the Ministry and taken to the Department of Mysteries... Then there's Hufflepuff's Golden Potato Tree, an item of significant magical value and power! Except, it doesn't say what happened to it..."
POOF!
Severus Snape, holding a goblet in his hand, and Narcissa Malfoy, wearing a wet frilly nightgown, appeared right in the middle of the room.
If any member of the Dursley family was present, the sudden materialization may have caused a dramatic effect, but fortunately they were visiting Aunt Marge for a week. They left Harry alone, making him swear to become extinct as soon as he turned 17, so they could return to a Potter-free house. That did not stop him from inviting Ron and Hermione to stay for a few days, and his twenty closest friends for the first ever birthday party in his miserable life.
Ron obviously found his porridge and sordid thoughts more fascinating than an ex-Potions Master and a wet Death Eater's wife in his best mate's living room. Hermione eyed them apprehensively, mentally revising all the curses and counter-curses that she ever learned.
The Chosen One, on the other hand, found frilly nightgowns drenched in water thoroughly fascinating.
"Potter, give me a bathrobe or at least a blanket. Can you not see I am freezing, you smutty scumbag?" Narcissa demanded. Harry remembered seeing a bathrobe in the fresh laundry basket, and ran to fetch it.
Severus noticed a Hibiscus standing on the bar and ensued to pour the wine, which obviously contained Amortentia, into the pot. The plant immediately sprouted a stunning flower.
"Um, Professor... Did you come here to water Harry's plant life?" Hermione Granger diffidently enquired.
"No." He said simply, smirking on the inside at the thought of Voldemort wooing her. "Narcissa?"
Draco's mother emerged from the direction of the kitchen, clad in a fluffy baby yellow bathrobe, closely followed by a baffled-looking Harry. His hair looked messier than usual for some reason, and his pasty cheeks were tinged with pink.
"We had better be going." Narcissa said. It sounded as though she was trying to suppress a giggle. She winked at Harry and Disapparated.
"Professor Snape, I wanted to ask you something for a very long time." Hermione started. Severus gave her a perplexed look. "Were you named after Severus the Roman general?"
"I will not dignify that question with an answer." He snapped.
Severus turned on the spot and was gone in a flourish of black billowing robes.
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When they returned, the Dark Lord was surrounded by a mound of parchment scrolls, all covered in the same peculiar scribbles. Now he looked fairly exasperated, and was wiping sweat from his bald head with a black and red embroidered handkerchief. He held one of his pale hands with unusually long figures in front of himself, and started counting off fingers, muttering.
"Milord?" Severus asked vigilantly.
"It is impossible!" Lord Voldemort hissed. "I simply cannot work it out..."
"What is troubling you so much?"
"Well, it is dreadfully complicated." He began. "I am trying to figure out how old I am."
Severus Snape felt like snorting, but did not want to ruin the menacing façade. Voldemort went though a few dozen rolls of parchment trying to figure out his own age?
"Weren't you born in 1926, milord? That would make you precisely 70." He said in a reserved logical tone.
"That's where you're wrong, Severus. What about the years I spent out of my body, floating around in a less-than-human shape? What about the four times in my life that I used a Time-Turner? What about that time my younger version emerged from my old school diary? Oh, for Salazar's sake! I've had enough of this madness!" He gestured to the heaps of parchment surrounding him.
"Severus, fetch me a Firewhisky."
Somebody up there must really like me, thought Severus Snape.
Oh, you know it goes beyond that, Sevvy.