Amaryllis jerked upright, then went rigid as her joints and muscles all unanimously protested, and fell over sideways.
"Ow," she said blearily, shoving her glasses up to rub her eyes. "The floor isn't comfortable."
"Your couch isn't much better," drawled a voice from behind her, and Amaryllis jumped, whirling around. Her hip cracked and she whimpered, making note that sudden moves were a bad idea. Snape stood in her kitchen doorway, a mug of coffee in his hand.
"But I'm all out of coffee," mumbled Amaryllis, staring at the cup.
"There's a very simple solution to that," Snape said, non-committal. Amaryllis grimaced. Snape crossed the room to the couch, which showed no signs that it had been slept in, and sat down, frowning thoughtfully at Amaryllis. "I'm very surprised that he didn't kill you."
"Me too, a little," said Amaryllis, looking down at her hands. Her knuckles were bruised. She must have bitten them at some point last night. "Although the Cruciatus wasn't entirely unexpected." Snape snorted his agreement, and Amaryllis glared at him. "I suppose you think I am stupid, for not simply running away last night."
"Most people would have," commented Snape, dark eyes hooded as he contemplated the rim of his coffee cup. "But you had your cat to think of."
Amaryllis giggled in spite of herself, and very slowly, moved to stand up. The room swam a little as she straightened, and she must have swayed, because when her vision cleared, Snape was standing beside her, holding her up by her elbow.
"So apparently I have coffee now," said Amaryllis, carefully removing herself from his grip. Snape nodded. Amaryllis glanced at the clock and winced. "I'm going to be late to work."
"He had me call you in sick," Snape said. Amaryllis jumped and looked at him incredulously.
"Had you call me in sick? Oh, gods, they'll think we're screwing," she said bleakly. "Swallowtail will—will—" she couldn't continue the thought.
"I told them I was a Healer, that you were indeed very sick, and most likely would not be coming in for the next several days," Snape said, expression and voice carefully blank. Amaryllis had the decency to blush.
"Oh," was all she could manage. "Thanks. I'm—coffee," she finished lamely, and stumbled into the kitchen.
"Where is he?" she called out a few minutes later. No explanation was needed as to which he she meant.
"In your room," Snape replied evenly. There was a crash from the kitchen and a muttered Reparo a moment later.
"In my room?" Amaryllis echoed back. "Why my room? Doing what?"
"Yes, because it's bigger, and Merlin only knows," Snape returned, answering her questions in order. "Your spare bedroom hasn't got a bed, for one thing."
"You're the bloody Dark Side," mumbled Amaryllis from the other room. "Can't you get a bed?"
"It will be among the adjustments we will be making to your flat," Snape said, arching an eyebrow. Amaryllis was taking an awfully long time just to pour herself a cup of coffee.
"Oh, hell," she groaned, finally emerging, coffee in hand, leaning on the doorframe.
"You don't have a choice," Snape reminded her, not unkindly. Amaryllis' head snapped up to glare at him.
"Why did he have you call me in sick?" she asked, narrow-eyed and suspicious.
"You'll have to ask him that yourself," said Snape, with an almost imperceptible shrug.
"Right," said Amaryllis, and marched off towards the corridor that joined both bedrooms to the main room. She paused before her own bedroom door, raised her hand to knock, got irritated at the idea that she should need permission to enter her own room, and plunged in.
She had to blink, once inside, for the only light in her room came from the gaps in the blinds of her window. The Dark Lord was at her desk, sorting through her papers, snake curled up at his feet.
"Think very carefully, girl, about the next words that are to come out of your mouth," he murmured, not even bothering to turn around. Amaryllis snapped her jaw shut, and decided to take his advice. There were so very many things she would have liked to ask or say, but not all of them were well advised.
"Who else is going to be coming and going through here, besides you and Snape?" she asked, crossing her arms. "They can't Apparate in, the landlady and I set it up—"
"They can Apparate in, and they will," said Voldemort. "Your precautions have been dismantled."
"Why didn't you dismantle them last night?" quizzed Amaryllis.
"I did not wish to alert the landlady. Removing the spell from the inside causes no such alert to be given," he replied. "Which brings me to a question of my own. How did you know we were inside, last night?"
"Muggle security," said Amaryllis. "Things wizards never check for."
"Ah, yes, the strand of hair. I only noticed it after you came in, upon examining the front door again. Very simple, but very… canny," he mused, holding up a paper so that it caught a shaft of light. Amaryllis recognized her OWL grade report.
"Hey," she exclaimed, starting forward. The Dark Lord lowered the paper, and turned very slowly in the chair. Amaryllis halted in her tracks, stopped by the almost tangible effect of his crimson gaze.
"Snape was correct, you are in every way a mediocre witch. I see here that you received a perfectly average grade in everything, except for Ancient Runes and History. Very curious. How long has it been since you graduated?" he queried, arching a hairless brow ridge at her. The action was peculiar to see, and it gave Amaryllis goosebumps.
"Um. Around two years now," stumbled Amaryllis. "My last year was when a bunch of kids got basilisked."
"That makes you what, nineteen?" said Voldemort thoughtfully. "And an assistant librarian. You certainly are making something of your life, aren't you."
"There's no need to be snide," Amaryllis bristled.
"I only want you to understand that if you do anything to displease myself or my Death Eaters, there will be little to recommend you for survival," hummed the Dark Lord. Amaryllis stiffened, unconsciously straightening her posture in response to such a threat.
"Yes, yes, I know," she replied sourly. "I'm not stupid, I can manage a little basic reasoning. But in the meantime, how are we going to work this out? Is Snape going to be staying here long? Will there be more coming to stay? Do you intend to permanently commandeer my bedroom?"
"You're very curious, aren't you?" Voldemort chided gently. "It is an almost… indiscreet… trait." Amaryllis heaved a sigh and reached under the join of her glasses to rub the bridge of her nose.
"They're actually very practical questions," she said, half to herself. "This flat is two bedroom, two bath, and the only places to sleep are here, on the couch, or on the floor."
"We will be making some changes to your flat, my dear," he smirked. "Presently. Until then, I see nothing to stop you from continuing to use your own bedroom. I do not sleep."
"Yes, but you'rehere," Amaryllis protested, wringing her hands.
"That hasn't been stopping your cat," shrugged Voldemort, and turned back to sorting through Amaryllis' papers. Amaryllis, staring now, took a second look at the bed. There indeed was Mercutio, his sleek, fluffy black length oozing across her comforter. On cue, as though he sensed he was being paid attention to, the cat opened lazy yellow eyes and stared complacently up at Amaryllis, looking as smug and content as a statue of Buddha.
"Bloody traitor," she grumbled at him. "How'd he get in here? I thought you'd keep him locked out?" she asked of the Dark Lord.
"Mysterious, then, how he got in here, isn't it?" he replied blithely. For about three seconds Amaryllis was filled with the desire to rush up behind him and dash his head into the corner of her desk repeatedly. Usually she reserved that kind of violent fantasy for her boss. Uttering a small cry of despair and frustration, she rushed out of her room and stomped into her living room, before she did something that got her killed.
"Well?" queried Snape, startling her. She knew from the tone of his voice, even before she turned to face him, that his eyebrows were raised sarcastically.
"He's rifling through my papers. I'm either going to scream or fall over," she said quite calmly. Snape took a step towards her, in case she decided on the second option. "He says everything will be taken care of, and apparently I have an entire horde of Death Eaters to look forward to coming through my flat. Until then, you get the couch, I get my bed, and he gets to loom creepily all night while I develop insomnia. My cat likes him. Why, Professor, why?"
"I'll take that as a rhetorical question," the Potions Master replied smoothly, and glided over to the window, to stare out of it broodingly. "The Dark Lord was quite right. Everything will be taken care of shortly. In the meantime, I suggest you stay out of the way, and attempt to develop a little groveling subservience."
"Him first," growled Amaryllis, although it was childish and foolhardy. "You know what? Bugger all this. I'm going out."
"Out where?" Snape looked at her sharply.
"I don't know," she said bleakly. "Probably just around the corner, to buy a bar of chocolate and take a very long time eating it. But I'll be back, so don't sell my stuff."
"I shall attempt to prevent any such sale in your absence," Snape drawled, and Amaryllis knew he was mocking her again.
Chapter 2 up, and I still have no notion how Amaryllis has managed to stay alive even this long. I suppose it's going to turn into a waiting game... XP
Well, I think I'm doing well, what with the characterizations of canon characters, but concrit is always welcome. Snarky Snape, yay? Oh, and another note, if I actually do end up not simply giving up and killing Amaryllis, this is going to be Voldemort/OC. Don't throw anything at me! I'm a villain's girl, but a hardcoar villain's girl, so, you know... eyah.
I want this to be a dark comedy. Let me know if I'm succeeding.