A/N: I know, I know, it's been forever. My apologies, and I'm not even going to try to explain it.

The Death Eaters Celebrate National That's What She Said Day

It was the middle of the Death Eater's bi-monthly Thursday morning Munch-and-Murder meeting, and Voldemort was snacking on some donut holes, and plotting evil things out loud.

"So," he said, wiping his mouth with a Starbucks napkin, "here's how it's going to go down. We sneak into Potter's apartment, and we steal his owl. When he wakes up and sees that it's gone, he'll realize we took it and come as fast as he can."

"That's what she said," Rodolphus muttered.

Voldemort blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Nothing," he said. "Continue with the domination tactics."

"That's what she said," sniggered Bellatrix.

Voldemort whipped around to face her. "What was that?"

Bellatrix sighed. "Never mind."

"No, tell me," Voldemort said, putting down his donut on the coffee table. "I want to hear."

"I said, "that's what she said.""

"That's what she said?"

"Yes," replied Bellatrix. "It's February fifteenth, is it not? Today's National That's What She Said Day."

"What in hell's name does that mean?" demanded the Dark Lord.

"If you have to ask… Oh, I'm not explaining this, he's too thick for it."

"That's what she said," agreed Snape.

Voldemort raised his wand.

"Forget it," Snape hastily apologized. "Just keeping talking about Potter and how we're to destroy him."

"All right," said Voldemort, taking a deep breath. "So, tonight, at eleven-fifteen post meridiem, we sneak in to his house, or apartment, or hopefully shack- wherever he lives-"

"Ooh, what if it's a mansion, then we should play MASH!" Draco exclaimed. "Okay, let's see, for my five mates, I pick-"

"Not now, Draco," Voldemort said. "And if I am interrupted again, I will make sure that none of you go home tonight."

"That's what sh-"

KABLAM.

"Sorry," muttered Draco, picking himself up off the floor.

The hour was well past midnight when several cloaked figure stealthily crept in to the oblivious apartment overlooking the London River. However, that clearly has nothing to do with our story, since not one of the Death Eaters, except for maybe Snape, was capable of doing anything at all stealthily.

The Death Eaters, masked and robed in Raw Umber Brown, which was the trendiest color this season (and Draco had been assigned the task of buying their attire), stood outside of a sixteen-story apartment building in a suburb of Hogsmeade.

"All right," Voldemort whispered, "here's how it'll go down. Snape, Bella and I shall sneak into his apartment, get the bird, and come out, all the while being unseen and completely undetected. Draco and the Lestrange men are our lookouts, stationed at various advantageous places around the building. Do we all have our walkie-talkies? Yes? All right, let's head on in."

"That's what she said," whispered Draco to Rabastan as the Dark Lord was out of sight.

"Draco!" hissed Voldemort.

Draco jumped. "How the hell did he hear me?"

"Because you're holding a magical walkie-talkie in your hand, moron," said Rodolphus.

"Oh."

Voldemort's voice crackled through again. "If I hear you speaking again one more time, I shall personally be responsible for the destruction of your closet full of ballet slippers that you keep in my front hallway."

"Sorry, sorry," murmured Draco, and the lookouts fell silent.

Back inside, however, things weren't going as surreptitiously.

The three rogues were standing in the lobby of the expensive apartment, gazing at the elevator and wondering just how they were going to pull this of.

"He lives on the sixteenth floor, right?" said Snape.

"Yes," said Voldemort.

"Which means he owns the penthouse, right?" said Snape.

"Yes," said Voldemort.

"Which means the elevator most likely opens directly into his apartment, right?" said Snape.

"Yes," said Voldemort.

"Which means that as soon as the elevator takes us up, he'll hear us coming."

"That's what she said." Bellatrix grinned wickedly at Voldemort.

"Okay, either someone explains this whole 'that's-what-she-said' thing to me in the next thirty seconds or both of you get hurled out of a window," Voldemort groused.

Snape sighed heavily. "You use it to add innuendo after someone says something that could be taken sexually. Like, if I said something like "Oh, it's really hard," then you could say "That's what she said." Get it?"

Voldemort looked perplexed, but nonetheless nodded. "Now, can we please figure out a way to get up to his apartment?"

"I don't know how we can do it," said Snape, "if the elevator option is ruled out."

Bellatrix stared at them in disbelief. "You guys are such idiots."

"That's what she said," said Voldemort.

Bellatrix and Snape turned to stare at him.

"What?" said Bellatrix.

"That made no sense at all," added Snape.

"Oh," said Voldemort.

There was a long, awkward silence.

After about a minute, Snape cleared his throat. "Well, anyways, back to the matter at hand. How in God's name are we going to get into his house now?"

Bellatrix sighed theatrically. "Like this," she said, and Disapparated.

Snape said at the ceiling. "Well. We are officially morons now."

Voldemort nodded, and the two followed suit and were gone.

They arrived in Potter's apartment to find the lights ablaze, no Bellatrix, and a broken vase on the floor.

"Oh, shit," muttered Snape, and threw his portable Invisibility Cloak over himself.

Unfortunately, Voldemort had not had the same insight as Snape when packing for their expedition. So when a half-asleep Harry Potter stumbled into his living room to investigate what had made his eighth-century vase suddenly shatter into a million pieces, he was certainly shocked to see his most hated nemesis kneeling on the floor, attempting to repair said vase.

"Voldemort?" asked Harry blearily, rubbing his eyes. "What the hell are you doing in my house?"

Voldemort rolled his eyes, "Technically, Potter, you live in an apartment."

"Whatever," scowled Harry. "Answer the question before I decide to blast the bejesus off your face."

"Um…" Voldemort thought quickly, and had a stroke of brilliance. "Clearly, Potter, I'm here to, um, sing a duet with you! And then we're to bake cookies until the morning sun rises."

Harry shook his head. "Either I've gone mad, or this is a dream."

Voldemort held his breath.

"And I suppose I'd rather be asleep than absolutely bonkers, so perhaps if I go back to bed, I'll wake up from this acid trip of a nightmare."

"Yes," breathed Voldemort, "that's the ticket."

"Good night!" said Harry, and went back into his room.

Snape and Bellatrix quickly reappeared.

"Hurry, we haven't much time," urged Bella.

"I know, I know," said Voldemort, snatching Hedwig's cage off of Harry's kitchen table. He lifted his wand at the broken relic on the floor. "Repai-"

"No!" hissed Snape, smacking Voldemort's wand arm. "Leave it."

"But why?"

"Because when Potter sees it, he'll know he wasn't dreaming, and then when he sees we've taken the owl, he'll know that we did it, which is how your plan is to work."

"Right you are," said the Dark Lord.

"Can we please leave now?" asked Bellatrix urgently.

"That's what she said?" attempted Voldemort.

"No," Bellatrix whispered, "no, no, no, you cannot do it, and I can seriously hear Potter heading back down here, so we need to leave."

"Fine," sulked Voldemort, and the three Apparated back to Vile Love Dorr.

Snape set the bird on top of the refrigerator. "You do realize we left Draco and the others there, don't you?"

"Yeah, whatever," said Voldemort dismissively, throwing his walkie-talkie into the hamper. "They'll figure it out."

"I certainly hope so," said Bellatrix. "Now what?"

"Now," said Voldemort, "we wait."

It was seven thirteen the next morning when Harry Potter blew into their headquarters.

"YOU!" screamed Harry, pointing a trembling finger at Voldemort.

"I," said Voldemort calmly. "And Potter, do not point, it's so terribly rude."

"You've taken my owl!"

"That I have."

"And broken into my apartment!"

"Yes, yes."

"And shattered a ten-thousand Galleon tribal vase from the year 790!"

"That one was an accident," piped in Bellatrix.

"Quiet, you," he said, sneering at her. "I want Hedwig back."

"I realize that," said Voldemort. "Which is why I'm prepared to offer you a trade for it."

"I'll do anything to have her back," said the Boy-Who-Lived, looking close to tears.

"Perfect!" exclaimed Voldemort. "Then surely you won't mind if we trade your life for it."

"Um," said Harry, "I actually don't think that I'm going to be cool with that."

"Really?" said Voldemort, looking put out. "Damn."

There was silence.

"So what now?" Voldemort asked Snape. "I rather hadn't planned on him refusing to sacrifice himself for the owl."

Snape blinked. "You hadn't?"

"No," said Voldemort, "and now I'm fresh out of ideas."

"You could let me take Hedwig and leave," ventured Harry.

"Nice try, Potter, but I don't think so," Voldemort said, drumming his fingernails on the counter.

"What if he promised us his firstborn child?" asked Bellatrix.

"Too Rumpelstiltskin-y."

"What if we made him sleep until he was awakened by his true love's kiss?" suggested Snape.

"Too Sleeping Beauty-ish."

"What if we made him go through a series of traps set by teachers at a magical school, in order to reach a valuable item encased in a mirror?" Bellatrix wondered.

"Good idea, but I think it's been done before," said Voldemort. "Oh! I've got it!"

He turned around to face Potter.

However, Harry was no longer there. And his owl had mysteriously disappeared from on top of the fridge.

"Damn," said Voldemort. "I knew I should have locked that cage."

Meanwhile…

"Voldemort?" called Draco into his walkie-talkie. "Snape? Anyone?"

A cab pulled up in front of them.

Gilderoy Lockhart stuck his head out the window. "Someone need a ride?"