(A/N: Thank you once agian for reviews, followers and favourites! Your awesome-ness cannot be expressed through mere words. Things need to start getting dark, no? Let the shadows commence *evil laugh*. WonderWhiteRabbit hopping off)

In the Head of the Snake

Chapter 10: Preferences

"My Lord," Snape's head was still facing the floor. The Dark Lord hadn't told him to rise...he knew what that meant; he would have to grovel.

"Severus..." Voldemort whispered the name, relishing the suppressed chill coursing through his loyal servant's body. "You were supposed to be watching the boy."

"Yes, My Lord," Snape said to the cherry-wood floor.

"Have you?"

"I have been observing him every day."

"Apparently, not enough!" Voldemort slapped something down onto the table. Snape winced as he heard the unknown object crumple underneath the Dark Lord's hands. Chancing himself a glance, Snape looked up to see Harry Potter's face plastered over a magazine cover, the image scowling up at the Dark Lord – apparently Potter's own copy was just as stupid as the original. Snape also saw the name of the magazine; the Quibbler.

"My Lord, may I say something?" he felt stupid at the words, but he needed permission in any case.

"Fine, rise. Speak. Make it quick. I have better things to be going on about."

"That magazine, my Lord, is the Quibbler. It is filled with rubbish and nonsense that will surely hinder the truth behind the words."

"Truth?" whispered Voldemort. Snape looked down quickly. Had he said too much? "You have not read this article, have you Snape?" he spat out the name.

"No, my Lord," this time, Snape did not avert his eyes. He looked into the red pupils directly, his black liquid eyes showing no hint of fear. Indeed, his face showed absolutely nothing at all.

Voldemort noticed. He had always known that Severus was a good Occlumens. A good Legilimens too...but this was different. Something had changed the man. He was still his man, oh yes, but he was changed...

"How is your other mission?" asked Voldemort suddenly.

"My Lord?"

Yes, there it was; a glimmer of fear. Snape had felt it flash onto his face too, and had quickly set it aside. He could protect Ginny better if he didn't show anything at all.

"I need to see your progress," Voldemort stepped forwards.

For the first time in a long time, Snape stepped back from the Dark Lord. He did not know if he could hide this...it was all he had been thinking about for the past hour since he had left Hogwarts. Ginny's hand against his. Her look of pity. Her look of hope.

He stole himself and stepped forwards, head raised, eyes forward. The Dark Lord curved his lips upwards, his tongue gripped between his teeth in a mad smile. One second, Snape was standing in the dark room with a red floor and a sparkling fireplace, the next, his vision was clouded. Voldemort was sinking quickly into his mind. He was searching. Pacing through images and memories and feelings and emotions – all of which were fake. Untrue. Moulded by Severus for the sole purpose of leading the Dark Lord astray.

There he was torturing muggles. There he was listening in on Dumbledore and the silly Divination teacher outside a room in the Hogshead. There he was strolling nonchalantly through the corridors of Hogwarts, dispatching couples with swishes of his wand. And then there he was, beside the Dark Lord as he broke out eleven Death Eaters from Azkaban.

But the Dark Lord already knew all of that. He didn't want to see that. He wanted to see the girl.

Snape felt him dig deeper into his mind, images flashing faster and faster before him it was a wonder the Dark Lord could discern them at all! He was feeling slightly nauseous. It was taking all of his will power not to fight against the torrent of images before him, to get the man – the beast – out of his head.

"WHERE IS SHE!" Voldemort withdrew from Snape's mind, and Snape found himself back in the room, having fallen to one knee in front of Voldemort. Perspiration slowly trickled down his spine. The Dark Lord had never tried that hard before to find out something from him; Snape had always put out little memories that could settle him.

"My Lord!" panted Snape, his hand clutching his bent knee as he steadied himself on the ground with the other. "Who?"

"The girl!" Voldemort swung his wand in a wild angry ark and Snape was dragged across the ground, bashing against the far wall. Next to him, the fire crackled in apparent delight.

"Do you mean Ginny Weasley?" Snape whispered quickly. "Because, My Lord, I was not hiding the girl from you!"

Voldemort stopped his hand inches from another angry movement. He looked hard at Snape. The man still had the ability to look defiant while crumpled on the floor. He flicked his wand, just to make sure; Snape was banged again against the wall. Some dust trickled slowly down and landed on his greasy head.

Voldemort turned his back on him, partially to let the man shiver in fear, and another part to hide his growing curiosity of the girl. Snape took his time getting to his feet. Let the Dark Lord simmer for a bit, he thought, brushing the dust out of his hair. His hand came back with blood on it, and indeed he could feel a slight light-headedness about him.

Voldemort, seemingly smelling the blood with his back still to Snape, said, "I believe you Severus. Now get out of here. And clear up your mess while you're at it."

Snape, with a great show of scampering around the room, magicked away the streak of blood left on the wall and set the carpet right again. He bowed low to the ground, although Voldemort had still not looked at him, and then left.

With the door closed behind him, he walked under the moon-lit sky towards the pond, intending to have himself a large firewhiskey back in Hogsmead, when he stopped; there was someone following him. He pretended to rearrange his robes, drawing his wand while he was at it, and then continued along his brisk path. After a dozen or so steps, however, he turned and, with a hard mental thought of "Petrificus Totalis!" his follower was frozen – literally – in her tracks.

The rigid form teetered for a moment before falling with a hard thud on the ground, face forward. Snape flicked his wand again; it would not be a good idea to anger the Dark Lord further with a tall tale of a Death Eater on Death Eater attack.

"YOU FILTHY SCUM!" the form shrieked the moment the spell was lifted.

A tall woman stood before Severus, her black hair back in its wild former glory but her eyes still haunted with the recent ghost of Azkaban.

"Tut tut, Bellatrix. It's no good getting angry at me just because I was the one the Dark Lord chose to help free you and your...playmates."

"He needed no help from you!" spat Bellatrix Lestrange. "He's more powerful than anyone! And needs no help from anyone!" Her pupils dilated to a mad size.

"Including you, then?" questioned Snape, looking bored at his fingernails.

Bellatrix halted, her eyes looking Snape up and down with the look of an animal choosing a place to strike.

"The Dark Lord said that you had my wand," she said eventually, her voice reverting to a business-like tone. Most likely going to run to daddy right after I leave, Snape smirked at his thoughts.

"The Dark Lord did indeed hand over the wands to me," Snape nodded his head slowly. He still didn't understand why Voldemort had done that. Surely it would make more sense to give the wands to their rightful owners; they were more use in the hands of them than in his.

"So!" snapped Bellatrix, her fingers sprawled out for the implement. "Give it to me!"

"I was told to keep the wands, little Bella," sneered Snape. "I was not told to give them away."

"You are not giving them away!" she shrieked, her voice hysterically high. "You are returning them!"

"I was not instructed to do that either," Snape drawled, his lips curving into an astonished "o". He was enjoying himself.

"You..." whispered Bellatrix. "You SNAKE!" she leapt at Snape, hands scratching and clawing at the air, long fingernails sprawled in an effort to reach his face. But Snape had two things on his side; one, naturally, was his wand. The other was that living with Sirius Black had more uses than he had thought; Bellatrix was nearly exactly like the man in terms of anger management.

He merely pointed his wand at her and a thick gust of air shot out. There was a peculiar moment where Bellatrix was still clawing at the air, her legs still running forwards, but she was going nowhere, held in midair by the wind. And then the next second she was pushed backwards, rolling along the grassy ground. She sat up, her legs splayed before her, her crumpled robe adding to the madness in her eyes.

"You will regret this, Snake!"

"The only thing I would regret is disobeying direct orders. If you have something to say, take it up with the Dark Lord, not me."

Snape swished his robe around him, pleased at his performance, and stepped into the pond once more. He smirked at the mad woman, still sitting on the ground like a kindergarden student, before he twisted slightly and disapparated.

His room in the Hogshead smelt musty when he appeared there, letting out a deep held in sigh. But there was also something else in the room that his nostrils sniffed eagerly.

Following his nose, he saw a silver platter placed on a small coffee table, laden with a cottage pie and a tall firewhiskey. A letter lay on the side of the tray.

Severus opened it hesitantly; it wasn't marked with a name. But he should have expected this; Dumbledore's slanted writing filled the page.

"Severus," Snape began to read.

"I will not be back at Hogwarts when you return; I have some important business to attend to. If certain people ask (no reference here to people who have an uncanny appearance of a frog, none at all,) – Severus smirked at Dumbledore's humour – I have gone on a hunt for a particularly good book. I will share more with you when I return. Until then, try not to kiss any more of my students will you?

Always your preference,

Dumbledore.

Snape stared hard at the last three lines. Try not to kiss any more of his students? She was Snape's student – not Dumbledores! Furthermore, how did he even know about the kiss in the first place? It wasn't like he had wanted the girl to kiss him! And there was another point! She had kissed him! He hadn't done anything! He had just stood there!

Oh no, Snape mused. But that was just the point; he hadn't done anything. He should have dispelled her away from him...why didn't he? He couldn't, that was why. He had had absolutely no power while Ginny was touching him. Did that mean that she was withdrawing power from him into her?

"Always your preference" Snape smirked. Another little joke of Dumbledore's. Of course Dumbledore was preferred over the Dark Lord.

"Dumbledore"

The man that always had a plan...but, apparently, never shared it. Didn't he know it was never good to go at things alone? Snape had learnt that from Dumbledore, and yet Dumbledore didn't follow his own advice.

Snape reached over and downed the firewhiskey, smiling bitterly as it burnt his throat. He was impressed to see it filled itself up when he placed it back down on its tray. He sat down on the moth-eaten chair by the table and then helped himself to the pie. He was quite glad that the plate didn't refill itself; one helping was more than enough for his skinny frame. But he swallowed the second helping of firewhiskey with a pleased grimace.

Walking back towards the castle, his steps sure of themselves although his head was now happily buzzing from his two drinks, Snape could only think of two things:

Dumbledore was going to find a book. What book?

And, his head was still bleeding.

(A/N: Enter Bellatrix! I love her character to bits and pieces! So evil and twisted! And Dumbledore? How can you not love the man? Once again I eagerly await your views and replies and thoughts and encouragement and all that jazz ;) WonderWhiteRabbit hopping gleefully off!)