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Dark Humor

Chapter Text

Tonight was no ordinary night at Malfoy Manor. It was a special night. Lord Voldemort had decided to throw a party for his Snatchers and Death Eaters. And whenever there was a party at the manor the usual chaos was bound to ensue.

It all started with Bellatrix getting drunk. She ran into the kitchen, and after rummaging around in the cupboards for a few minutes emerged with a box of toaster strudels.

Lucius had always enjoyed toaster strudels. Some would even say he was addicted to the muggle breakfast treats. This would often cause arguments with his wife Narcissa, who insisted that pop tarts were better because they came in a wide variety of flavors. And it didn't help that Draco often sided with his father during their arguments.

After finding the box of toaster strudels, Bellatrix removed several packets of strudel frosting and began to write naughty words all over the kitchen walls in frosting. She then fled the kitchen, laughing and running out the back door, where she proceeded to get lost in the maze of well manicured hedges in Lucius' back yard.

Meanwhile, Lucius and Voldemort, who were fairly drunk, were engaged in a conversation in the living room.

"If you weren't the leader of the Death Eaters, what would you do with your spare time?" asked Lucius.

"I think I would breed kitties," the Dark Lord replied, hiccupping and spilling a portion of wine down the front of his robes. "I have a great deal of sympathy for those squashed-faced kittens because I too have no nose."

Just then Severus marched into the room, strutting his stuff in Narcissa's high heels and wearing Nagini draped across his shoulders like a feather boa.

"I'm feeling particularly lovely this evening," he announced to everyone in the room, slurring his words and stumbling slightly.

Severus turned in a circle to show off his new outfit from all angles, cracking Nagini's head on the coffee table as he spun around, rendering the large serpent unconscious.

"Those are my wife's shoes!" said Lucius, half rising from his seat before slipping and falling to the floor.

"I know that," Severus replied smoothly, a slight smirk on his face. "Bella and I are going to have a fashion show. Now where is she?"

Lucius started laughing until he slid onto his back and proceeded to roll on the floor laughing, while Voldemort covered his mouth with his hand in an attempt to stifle a fit of giggles.

Bellatrix then came bursting in through the front door, naked except for an inner tube around her waist, with Scabior chasing after her as she ran up the stairs and down the hall.

"Come back 'ere, beau'iful!" Scabior yelled as he chased after Bellatrix. "I want to cover you in strudel frosting an lick it off your body!"

Voldemort then turned around in his seat and shouted at Scabior as he watched the Snatcher running up the stairs, "How many times do I have to tell you? Pop tarts are sacred! Don't insult the pop tart gods!"

As the sun rose over Malfoy Manor the next morning, Bellatrix woke up on the front lawn with one of Lucius' peacocks pecking at the dried frosting that covered her legs and stomach. Scabior had passed out and was lying half submerged in the fountain beside Bellatrix.

Lucius and Voldemort became engaged in a food fight, hurling curses and food at each other as they fought over whether pop tarts were better than toaster strudels. Their fight ended when they knocked each other unconscious with a combination of flying pastries and stunning spells.

As for Severus, he woke up in the upstairs bathtub with Peter nibbling and sucking on his toes. Apparently the drunk rodent had mistaken him for a piece of cheese.

"Mmmm... That feels good, Lily," Severus mumbled, still drowsy and not yet fully awake.

After Narcissa had forced about a gallon of coffee down Peter's throat and tossed a bucket of cold water on Severus to wake him up, the pureblood witch immediately set Peter to work cleaning up after last night's party.

Voldemort was lying on the couch in the drawing room, holding an ice bag to his head. He had a splitting headache and was horribly hung over.

"I told you you should not have drank so much last night," said Severus as he sat down on the armchair opposite the Dark Lord.

"Shut it, Snape," Voldemort grumbled. "My head is throbbing so badly I could cry..."

Severus snorted in amusement. "Since when have you ever shed a tear over anything?"

"Yesterday," the Dark Lord replied. "Bella ate the last piece of garlic bread. My spaghetti was lonely."

"I just want to go to sleep," Lucius groaned, staggering into the room and collapsing onto the footstool, laying flat out on his belly, his head hung low with his silvery blond hair streaming down into his face. "My house is flooded... I pass out for a few hours and Severus flooded the bathroom with champagne."

"Lucius, stop whining like an infant," snapped Narcissa irritably. "Yaxly got drunk, fell off a brick wall, and passed out in a flower bed. And you don't hear him complaining."

"That's because he's still unconscious," said Severus.

"He wouldn't be if I hadn't used all the coffee on Pettigrew," Narcissa retorted.

"My Lord, I have a question," said Severus, who was now feeling rather embarrassed and eager to move the topic of conversation away from his incident in the bathroom with Peter. "What exactly is your favorite poptart flavor?"

"Not this again..." Lucius whined from underneath a curtain of blond hair.

"They've both been discontinued, but I like Hello Kitty Meowberry and Disney Princess Jewelberry," said Voldemort.

"You're all a bunch of bloody sissies!" said Scabior, marching into the room looking fully alert and well. He then turned to Snape and said, "Everyone except you, Severus."

Despite the mild headache he had, Severus allowed himself a faint smirk when he heard Scabior speak.

"Aside from Severus, none of you can drink more than a few glasses of firewhiskey without passing out in two seconds. Most of you lot can't even move or function the next day," Scabior continued. "I'm rather proud of Severus for flooding the upstairs bathroom with champagne. It shows tha 'e 'asn't lost 'is touch after all this time."

Lucius lifted his head slightly and gazed at Severus, his vision blurry as he reached up and eased his hair out of his face. "After all this time, Severus?" he asked.

"Always," Severus replied. He then quickly covered his mouth with a hand in an attempt to stifle a fairly large belch. "Pardon me," he muttered into his hand. "I apologize for that. It was exceedingly rude."

"You passed out in the fountain, Scabior," said Voldemort.

"Only after I drank a couple bottles of booze," said Scabior.

Severus started to chuckle.

"See? 'E knows it's true," said Scabior, grinning broadly at his best friend. "An I can still think an function. Watch this." He then waved his wand and summoned the inner tube that Bellatrix was wearing.

Scabior smiled slyly as he caught the inner tube and heard Bellatrix shriek from somewhere in the front yard. "I'll get to 'er later."

Lucius sighed and rolled his eyes. "Show off."

"Which reminds me, how's the Hand of Glory working out for you?" Severus queried. "Not using it when you think of Bella are you?"

"What the hell, Scabior!" Lucius exclaimed, slipping and falling forward onto the floor as he attempted to raise himself up off the footstool. "You said you needed to borrow that for the Dark Lord! You better clean that before you return it."

"He never cleans anything before he returns it," said Severus, a disgusted frown slowly spreading across his face. "Scabior had the gall to steal a pair of my black briefs, then inform me of all the women he managed to attract and sleep with whilst he wore them. He then attempted to return the now soiled undergarments to me after a few weeks had passed, without cleaning them."

Lucius gagged and fought not to vomit.

Scabior shrugged. "I don't see wha the problem is. Tha was just the secret ingredient to a love potion I was brewing. All the ladies love it. Besides, I'm a naughty little Snatcher. I can do wha I want, an the females love me."

"Why is it that you always manage to attract all the ladies?" Narcissa asked.

"Look at me, pet," said Scabior. "Anyone with eyes can see 'ow sexy I am."

"And you've never considered settling down with one of these women and getting married?"

"He already is married," said Severus. "One time he drank too much and married a cookie."

Voldemort adjusted the ice bag on his head and looked at Scabior. "Is that true?"

"Yes, it's true," said Lucius, now joining in the conversation. "A jar of mustard was his best man. And a cold cup of tea was the priest."

"In my own defense it was a biscuit, not a cookie," said Scabior. "I also woke up next to a ham sandwich once. I'm sure it was the best sex I'll never remember."

Chapter Text

Snape didn't know what came over him. He didn't know why he wanted to do it. All he knew was that he needed to, he had to do it.

Walking down one of the long corridors with his flowing robes pulled tightly closed around his body, the sixteen year old Snape waited until he caught sight of Lily, walking along by herself.

He snuck up behind her and cleared his throat. "Um, excuse me... Lily, may I have a moment?"

Lily turned around and glared at him. "What Severus?" she snapped harshly.

He gripped the sides of his robes and pulled them open, revealing that he was completely naked under his robes.

Lily gasped.

"Surprise, Lily!" Snape cried before closing his robes and running off down the corridor before she had time to recover from her shock.

Twenty years later...

Harry Potter gasped, emerging from the Pensieve shivering and shaking, his eyes wide with horror.

"What is it Harry?" Ron asked with concern. "What's wrong?"

"Snape!" Harry said, his body trembling uncontrollably as he fought the urge to vomit. He had just been given Snape's memories before the Potions Master passed away from his injuries in the boathouse. "Snape, he...he flashed my mum! Severus Snape flashed my mum!"

Four months later...

Scabior sat in the cemetery beside the ghost of Severus Snape. It was a quiet peaceful afternoon when suddenly -

"Oh shit!" Snape exclaimed loudly, just now remembering that he had accidently included the incident where he had flashed Lily in the memories he'd given Harry.

Scabior gave Snape a confused look. "Wha? Wha's wrong?"

Snape hid his face in his hands, feeling thoroughly embarrassed.

"Don't ask..." he groaned. "You don't want to know..."

Chapter Text

"This is absurd..." Snape muttered as he gazed down at the bizarre muggle artifact he was now holding in his hands. He then glanced over at Dumbledore who was sitting in the seat next to him. "Albus, are you quite certain I have to wear this ridiculous contraption?"

Dumbledore sat calmly in his seat, picking sweets from a large container of lemon drops. He didn't want the popcorn and soda that they sold at the theater concession stand, so he brought his own snacks instead.

"Yes, my boy. They are called 3D glasses. And according to what the muggles tell me, they greatly enhance the viewing experience. You shall be needing them if you want the full effect, Severus."

"All this just to watch the last of those ridiculous Potter movies," Snape growled, slipping the glasses on.

Beside him Ron began to chuckle. "Blimey Harry, look what Snape's got on."

Both Harry and Hermione turned in their seats and looked over at the Potions Master. Harry grinned and Hermione put her hand over her mouth, trying in vain to stifle a fit of giggles.

Snape glared at them. "Do you find something amusing?"

Unable to take it any longer, Ron doubled over in his seat and started laughing. Snape then stood up, drew his wand, and began firing a series of hexes at the red head.

Harry couldn't help but smile and laugh as he watched Ron ducking between the seats and running from the room as Snape chased after him, still firing hexes as he went.

Snape then spun around, turning on Hermione as she too began to laugh. "Not funny, miss Granger." He then blasted her out of her seat with another hex, and she too went running from the room.

The Potions Master sighed as he took his seat between Harry and Dumbledore.

Dumbledore, ofcourse, sat calmly through the entire thing, muching on his sweets, as though nothing had happened.

Chapter Text

Before you start, sample the whiskey to check for quality. Good, isn't it?

Now go ahead. Select a large bowl, measuring cup, ect. Check the whiskey again as it must be just right. To be sure the whiskey is of the 'ighest quality, pour one level cup into a glass an drink it as fast as you can. Repeat.

With an eclectic mixer, beat one cup of butter in a large fluffy bowl. Add one teaspoon of sugar an beat the 'ell out of it again. Meanwhile at this parsnicular point in time, wake sure the whixey 'asn't gone bad on you while you weren't lookin'. Open second quart if nestessary.

Add two large legs, two cups fried druit and beat till 'igh. Example the whikstey again, shecking confistancy, then shift two cups salt or destergent or whatever, like anyone gives a shit.

Chample the witchey shum more.

Shift in sum lemon zhoosh. Fold in chopped sputter and shrained nuts. Add one 'undred babblespoons of brown booger or whusever's closhest an mix well. Greash ubben an turn the cakey pan to 350° decrees. Now pour the whole pissin' mess into the washing machine an set on sinsh shycle.

Check dat whixney wunsh more, puke an pash out.

Chapter Text

"Albus, remind me why we are doing this," Snape grumbled irritably as he and Dumbledore walked down the halls of the Hogwarts library and into the Restricted Section.

It was past midnight and the Potions Master was extremely tired. He longed for a warm cup of tea before settling into bed for the night.

"We're here because I have recently discovered some rather disturbing material hidden deep within the farthest corners of the library, and I feel that it must be removed at once."

Snape frowned. "And this task could not wait until morning?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "I'm afraid not, my boy," he said, his tone solemn. "The students must never be allowed to witness the unspeakable horrors and dreadful abominations that these books contain."

The Potions Master smirked. 'How bad could it possibly be?' he thought.

Together they rounded the corner and came upon what Dumbledore was looking for. The old wizard then began taking copies of a certain book off the shelf and stacking them up on the floor. He would then vanish them with a wave of his wand once he had collected them all.

Snape stood nearby, holding his lit wand aloft so he could see what Dumbledore was doing. He then spied the title of the book. "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows? What in Merlin's name is that?"

Dumbledore handed him one of the books and flicked it open to the back of chapter thirty two.

Snape read the last few pages...and laughed. "How amusing."

Dumbledore was shocked. "Severus, how can you find humor in such a horrible thing?"

Snape handed him the book. "It always amuses me to see what sort of fanfiction these amateur authors dream up about me. Perhaps one day someone will make a movie about it."

Chapter Text

There was a reason why Bellatrix didn't eat marshmallows. It didn't matter if they were the squishy squares you roasted over a campfire or jars of pure marshmallow fluff. All marshmallows made her "fluffy and puffy" as she put it.

If someone offered her something with marshmallows in it, her typical reaction was to say, "Get that away from me! I can't eat that. It makes me fluffy and puffy."

"Fluffy and puffy?" Scabior queried. "Just wha do you mean by tha?"

"You know, puffy," she said, acting like he should know what she meant by this.

"You mean they give you gas?"

"No!" Bella exclaimed, her cheeks blushing bright red.

Scabior started to laugh. He was amused by her response, and was now determined to find out what happened when she ate marshmallows.

He started planning how he was going to sneak marshmallows into her food. And the easiest way to do that was to mix them in with something of similar color and texture.

Scabior added a few spoonfuls of marshmallow fluff to a bowl of vanilla ice cream. He knew she couldn't resist vanilla ice cream. It was her favorite. And to make it even more irresistible, he topped it off with some chocolate sauce, chopped nuts and a plump, ripe cherry.

He approached her with the bowl of ice cream while she was sitting on the couch reading a book.

"Would you care for a snack, Bella?" he asked, his voice dripping with false sweetness as he offered her the tainted treat.

She should have known he was up to something. Scabior wasn't usually this nice to her. But the delicious chocolate dribbled over the smooth ice cream looked so tempting.

She licked her lips, her mouth watering at the sight of the snack he'd brought her. She set her book aside on the coffee table and reached for the bowl, eagerly digging in with the spoon Scabior had tucked into the side of the ice cream.

A sly smirk crossed Scabior's face as he watched her eat. He didn't know what would happen to her once she consumed enough of the marshmallow laced treat, but he was going to find out soon enough.

She ate the entire bowl of ice cream, then set the empty bowl on the coffee table when she was finished.

Scabior wondered if something was wrong. Nothing was happening. But then, just as she was reaching for her book to continue reading, fur began to sprout down the length of her arm.

She froze, her hand midway to the book she was reading. Only it wasn't a hand anymore. It was a paw.

"Damn you, Scabior! What have you done to me?" she cried, more fur now growing to cover her face and arms.

Scabior was backing away, a wide grin on his face as he watched a tail poke out from under her dress.

She let out an enraged howl, her voice changing so that her cries resembled that of a raging wildcat, and leapt over the coffee table at him.

Scabior was laughing now as she charged at him. He was just about to turn around and run when Bellatrix suddenly vanished. And in her place a tiny black kitten with grey stripes sat meowing on the floor.

When Bellatrix was a child her cousin Sirius put a curse on her, giving her an allergy that caused her to turn into a kitten for one full hour whenever she ate marshmallows.

It was supposed to be a harmless prank. But Sirius didn't know how to remove the curse. And since no one could find a cure for her condition, Bellatrix was left with an incurable allergy to marshmallows.

Scabior couldn't believe his eyes. There was Bellatrix, now changed into an adorable little kitten.

"Well aren't you lovely," he said, kneeling on the floor in front of her. "You weren't kidding when you said marshmallows made you fluffy. Though I wonder where the puffiness comes in. You don't look very puffy to me."

He decided to see if he could pet her. But as he reached to stroke her back, Bellatrix pinned her ears back and growled at him. Black smoke was trailing from her nostrils, her eyes flashing dangerously as she glared at him.

Her lips curled back, revealing rows of sharp white fangs. She then let out a magnified lion roar, which was so loud it rattled the windows in the house and just about blew Scabior off his feet.

Before the Snatcher had time to react, Bellatrix puffed up her chest, inhaling deeply as her body seemed to swell and grow in size. She exhaled a stream of scorching hot flames right in Scabior's face. Scabior was just barely able to dodge her fiery attack, though not without getting his clothes and the ends of his hair singed.

Moments later Narcissa heard a scream, and turned to see Scabior being chased by a fire breathing kitten.

"I told you not to give her marshmallows," she called out to Scabior as he ran past.

Narcissa sighed and shook her head. It was just another normal day in Malfoy manor. Or at least as normal as things could get when your sister was Bellatrix Lestrange.

Chapter Text

Severus never did like Sirius. From the day they first met as children at Hogwarts they didn't get along. As time passed, their hatred towards each other grew. Eventually it reached the point where they couldn't stand being in the same room with each other. So needless to say Severus was not pleased when he had to attend meetings with Sirius.

When the members of the Order would gather to discuss the latest goings on, Severus would sit as far away from Sirius as he could. He ignored Sirius, refusing to speak to him unless it was completely necessary

One evening when Luipin came over to join in the meeting, Severus couldn't help but notice how close he and Sirius were. They sat next to each other, conversing with each other more than with the others in the room. And when Arthur announced that the Order had suffered a recent setback in their progress against the Dark Lord, Sirius reached over and held Lupin's hand, comforting the werewolf who was upset by the bad news.

"It's alright, Remus," said Sirius. "We won't let that bastard win. We just need to rethink our strategy and continue fighting back against him."

Sirius then looked over and noticed Severus staring at them from the opposite end of the table.

"And just what the hell are you looking at?" Sirius snapped. "Afraid you might be missing something, Snivellus?"

A frown creased the corners of Snape's mouth as he looked away. He didn't want to get into it with Sirius. Not here, where there were too many witnesses.

"Don't call him that, Sirius," said Lupin. "It's rude. I was in hopes you'd outgrown the childish name calling you used when we were in school."

"Yes, well maybe if he washed his filthy hair once in a while, he might find it easier to attract a mate of his own. Then he wouldn't have to spend all day staring at us, snuggle bear."

Snuggle bear. Now there's a new one. Snape had heard the name snivellus many times. But he'd never heard snuggle bear before.

An idea started to form in his mind. 'Let's see how Sirius likes it when something happens to his beloved snuggle bear,' thought Snape.

As the sun parted ways with the horizon early the next morning, Sirius awoke to find that Lupin was missing. He rolled over in bed, noticing that the spot beside him that Lupin usually occupied was empty.

He sat up in bed and looked around.

"Remus? Where are you?"

Severus sat at the kitchen table, sipping from a cup of coffee and reading the newspaper. All was quiet and peaceful, until voices drifting in from upstairs let him know that Sirius was awake.

He waited for a couple minutes, giving Sirius time to search the room and discover the surprise he'd left for him. He finished his cup of coffee, then set his paper aside on the kitchen table and made his way upstairs.

The voices grew louder as he reached the landing on the first floor. He opened the door on his right and this is what he heard.

"...and no one knows where the koala came from, but it seems to really like Sirius."

There was Sirius, sitting on the edge of the bed with a fuzzy koala sitting in his lap. The koala was nuzzling Sirius, affectionately snuggling against his chest as he looked up at him with big, bright eyes.

'Snuggle bear, indeed,' thought Snape, a smirk forming on his lips as he watched the koala nuzzling Sirius.

Chapter Text

A lot had changed since Voldemort gained control of the Ministry of Magic. A darkness had crept into the Ministry, corrupting the hearts of its workers and turning them against their own kind.

Muggleborns were now being brought in, interrogated and later killed. "Magic is might." Those were the words the corrupted Ministry officials kept preaching. And those without magic, as well as those deemed unfit to wield its powers, were to be cast out and eliminated.

Pius Thicknesse had recently taken over the position of Minister of Magic. And today he was giving his commencement speech, addressing the Ministry employees in the atrium, letting them know what kind of changes would be taking place now that the Death Eaters were in charge.

"Therefore, beginning today, each employee will submit themselves for evaluation," he said, standing before a crowd of Ministry workers that had gathered to listen to their new Minister. "But know this: you have nothing to fear if you have nothing to hide."

As he concluded his speech, a woman dressed in bright green robes emerged from the crowd. She approached the Minister, quill in hand and a long roll of blank parchment trailing out behind her.

Yaxley, who was standing beside the Minister, rolled his eyes as Rita Skeeter began to chatter away, asking Thicknesse if he would be willing to answer a few questions.

The Death Eater leaned over and whispered in Albert's ear, "What is she doing here?"

Runcorn shrugged. "Who knows? We've tried everything, but no one can get rid of her."

Thicknesse agreed to speak with Rita, answering her questions as she asked him about the Muggleborn Registration Commission.

Umbridge didn't seem to mind Rita's presence. She knew the conversation would eventually turn to her, and she was looking forward to her fifteen minutes of fame.

"The Ministry is in the process of rounding up muggleborns for interrogation," said Thicknesse.

"And how are you doing that?" asked Rita, her quill scribbling away on the parchment like it had a mind of its own.

"By employing a trained group of wizards and witches known as Snatchers. It's their job to track muggleborns and bring them in for questioning." Thicknesse paused, looking up as movement towards the back of the crowd caught his attention. "Ah yes, I see the Snatchers are returning from their latest mission. Perhaps they might be willing to speak with you."

Rita turned around, her attention focused on the small band of Snatchers that were making their way through the crowd. One of them had a firm grip on the arm of a man they were ushering through the crowd. This man had bruises covering most of his face and arms, with a trickle of blood running from a gash in his forehead.

Scabior was leading the group, his wife Draconius at his side. But something seemed a bit off. He was having difficulty walking and kept bumping into his wife.

Scabior giggled and laughed, his long hair escaping the confines of his ponytail and spilling forward into his face.

Rita's eyebrows rose towards her hairline as she watched the drunken Snatcher staggering into the room. This would make for a very interesting story indeed, she thought, her quill now shooting across the roll of parchment in her hand.

Draconius wasn't bothered by her husband's inebriated state. She found his drunkenness amusing. And as he slumped against the wall she began to tickle him.

"You are so cute," she cooed, tickling his belly as he threw his head back and burst out laughing. "Look at you. You're positively adorable when you're drunk."

"Stop it!" Scabior said, laughing as he tried to push her hands away from him. He then slid across the wall into the doorframe, doubling over as his wife continued tickling him.

Yaxley groaned and covered his face with his hand. Of all the times for Scabior to come to work drunk. It just had to be the day when Rita Skeeter showed up to interview everyone.

Draconius wouldn't let up. She ignored the crowd of people that were turning their heads to look at them, slipping her fingers beneath Scabior's jacket and tickling his armpits.

Scabior slid down the doorframe until he was sitting on the floor. He continued to laugh hysterically as his wife tickled him, completely unaware of the wetness soaking through the front of his plaid pants.

"So these are the Snatchers you've hired to round up the muggleborns," said Rita, a wide grin spreading across her face as she looked back at the Minister.

Chapter Text

'Per'aps these muggles aren't so bad after all,' thought Scabior as he and Severus made their way to the third floor balcony of a tall building located in the heart of New Orleans. 'They sure know 'ow to throw a party. I'll give them tha."

Behind him Severus giggled and slumped against the wall. He'd been drinking since they got there, and by now he was so heavily intoxicated he could barely see straight let alone walk.

Scabior stopped and turned around, looking back at the figure of the dark man clinging to the railing of the staircase. He watched as Severus chuckled and slid into a sitting position on the stairs.

"Scabior..." Severus snickered. "You do realize that you have a red streak in your hair, don't you?"

The Snatcher sighed and rolled his eyes. He reached down and took hold of Severus by the wrist, pulling the younger wizard up onto his feet.

"You can't exactly 'old your liquor as well as I can," said Scabior, helping Severus to his feet. "Better watch it when we reach the top. I don't want any of the women running off because you get sick all over them."

"How did that get there?" Severus queried, staring cross-eyed at the crimson strands nestled in Scabior's dark brown tangled tresses. "Did you do that? It looks like it was put there by magic!"

"Come on, Severus," Scabior said, now practically dragging the drunken Death Eater up the stairs. "If we don't get a move on, there won't be many females left to throw these 'ere beaded necklaces to."

Scabior managed to bring Severus out onto the balcony with him. Below them were several hundred muggles, all drinking and dancing in the streets while loud music played. And mixed in with the festival goers were a few Death Eaters as well, including Lucius Malfoy who had decorated his Death Eater mask with rhinestones, brightly colored feathers and glitter. His mask now sparkled so much in the midday sun that he looked like one of those ridiculous Twilight vampires.

Reaching deep into the pockets of his worn and faded leather jacket, Scabior brought out several strands of beaded necklaces, ready to throw them to the drunken women in the crowd below.

"Up 'ere, ladies!" Scabior called out, waving the necklaces in the air. "Show me wha you got!"

In response to his calls several women lifted their tops, exposing themselves to him in return for the brightly colored beads which Scabior tossed to them.

This was too easy. Scabior couldn't believe that these muggle females were willing to show off private parts of their anatomy for a few cheap plastic trinkets. But then again he too had many beaded necklaces around his neck, hanging in layers and wrapped around the material of his plaid scarf.

Severus commented on this, saying that Scabior must have been flashing his bits all over town in order to have accumulated such a large amount of necklaces. Which was exactly what Scabior had been doing, along with certain other illicit activities.

"Lady, those things real or did you 'ave to pay to get 'em to point tha way?" Scabior asked as yet another woman flashed him.

"What do you mean 'are those things real?'" Severus drawled in a drunken slur, hanging onto the banister for support as he struggled to remain standing. "How could they not be real, Scabior?"

"I once 'eard about, silicorn implants I think they call them," Scabior replied thoughtfully. "Muggle females put 'em in their breasts to make them bigger. They can't enlarge things with magic like we can. So I guess they just fill themselves full of silicorn instead."

Severus stared at Scabior, his mouth hanging open in dumbfounded shock. He then burst into a hysterical fit of laughter, doubling over with one hand on the banister, laughing so hard his sides hurt.

Scabior shrugged and continued throwing necklaces to the women in the crowd.

There was a disturbance in the crowd as Lord Voldemort pushed and shoved his way through the gathering of people, making his way towards the balcony Scabior and Severus were on.

"No fair!" the Dark Lord whined, pouting like a spoiled child. "I want some of those pretty necklaces too! How dare you deny your lord and master what is rightfully mine?!"

"These aren't for you," said Scabior. "These are only for attractive young ladies with nice boobs."

"Oh yeah? Well how about this!" And with that Voldemort yanked his robes up above his waist, revealing his nether region to Scabior, Severus and everyone in the crowd...and of course he wasn't wearing any underwear on this particular morning.

Needless to say, Scabior was repulsed and disgusted by the hideous sight that met his eyes.

"Dear Merlin, put tha away before I vomit!" Scabior cried, quickly turning away and shielding his eyes with his hands. But for Severus it was already too late. He was so sickened by the sight of the Dark Lord's privates that he promptly vomited over the side of the banister.

Bellatrix, who had chosen that moment to poke her head out a nearby window so she could get a better look at her beloved Dark Lord's man parts, was hit square on the head with the remains of Severus' breakfast.

When Scabior looked down and caught sight of Bellatrix covered in vomit, he immediately began to laugh. He then decided that, aside from the Dark Lord exposing himself in front of everyone, it had been a rather fun and interesting day.

Chapter Text

It wasn't every day that Dobby was treated like this. He knew that he had to be a very good little elf if he wanted to feel the type of pleasure he desired.

He was lucky to have someone that would do this with him. He knew that. He also knew that not everyone had the kind of fetish he had. But he didn't care. All he wanted was to feel loved, to feel pleasure like everyone else. He was a house elf, but he had needs too.

He had to work very hard to earn his reward. She had a strict set of rules he had to follow. For starters, Dobby wasn't allowed to speak for a whole month, and he and to clean every last toilet in Malfoy manor until it was spotless, along with all the toilets in her house too.

Dobby didn't mind the extra work, or being silent for a month. She wanted a hard working elf who kept his mouth shut and did his job. And in the end, Dobby knew it would be worth it.

When the work was done and the month was over, it was time for his reward. He gazed up at her, eagerly awaiting the moment when they would begin. It was almost too good to be true. And as he looked at her he asked, "Does Dobby get to feel pleasure now?"

Slowly she turned, the corners of her lips curving upwards in a smile.

"Yes, Dobby," Bellatrix replied.

"And does Dobby get tied up?" he asked.

She nodded, and he squealed in sheer delight.

He climbed up onto the bed and sat down, the candles flickering in the darkness helping to set the mood.

Bellatrix turned to him with a pair of knee-high socks in her hand. "Is this what you want?" she crooned sweetly.

"Oh yes," he said, his voice little more than a breathy moan as he gazed lovingly at the pair of socks.

She used one of the socks to tie his wrists together, then raised his hands above his head and used the other sock to secure his wrists to the headboard.

The little house elf wriggled and squirmed as he watched her empty a bag of multicolored socks onto the foot of the bed. "Socks!" he cried happily, his insides tingling with excitement. "Dobby wants socks. Please," he begged her. "Dobby needs socks."

She took her time, making him watch as she sorted the socks into neat little piles on the bed. She teased him by dangling a pair of socks over his head, holding them close enough that he could smell their warm, cottony scent.

Bellatrix was fairly certain that if someone brewed a batch of amortentia for this little elf, the smell of socks would be the first thing he smelled when he sniffed it.

When she had finished sorting the socks, Bellatrix took one of the socks and gently rubbed it against Dobby's cheek, causing him to moan and sigh as the soft fabric brushed against his skin. She put the sock on her hand and stroked the top of his head between his ears, moving down along his neck and massaging his shoulders. When she backed away Dobby struggled against his bonds, trying to reach the socks on the bed.

"Be patient, little elf," she told him. "The night is young, and we have plenty of time for you to play with my sock collection."

Chapter Text

It was late at night, and Severus was making his rounds throughout the many halls and hidden passageways of the castle, checking to see if any students were out of bed. He was just about to turn around and head back to the dungeons when he noticed something shiny on the floor.

The substance sparkled in the light of his wand as he bent down to examine the shiny flakes strewn across the floor. It was glitter, and a trail of glitter lead off down the hall.

He followed the trail of glitter. And before long he could hear voices, giggling and laughing in the dark. His first thought was that some students were fooling around after curfew. But as he rounded the corner he saw a pair of house elves sitting on the floor, laughing and drinking, surrounded by several empty bottles of butterbeer.

It was Dobby and Winky. Both of them were drunk, and Dobby was doing body shots off Winky with a lime and a bottle of edible body glitter.

Dobby sprinkled vanilla flavored glitter onto the crook of her neck, licked it off, then downed a shot of butterbeer before planting his lips on Winky and devouring the lime wedge in her mouth.

From the looks of things, Dobby had gone through several bottles of glitter that evening. There was glitter all over the floor and ground into the carpet.

It took Dobby a moment to realize that Snape was there. He looked up at the Potions Master, squinting in the bright light of Snape's wand.

"Oh, hello, sir," said Dobby, giving him a simpering smile as he waved up at him. "Dobby is just having a bit of fun, sir. Dobby was cleaning Miss Granger's room and found many bottles of these shiny things. They is tasting quite good, sir. This one tastes like vanilla."

Snape sighed and rolled his eyes. Of all the things he'd seen in his life, this had to be the most bizarre sight he'd ever witnessed.

Dobby sprinkled glitter on Winky's foot and started sucking on her toes.

"Stop!" Winky cried, swinging a dirty sock and smacking Dobby over the head with it. "Stop, it tickles! It tickles, Dobby!" She collapsed in a fit of hysterical laughter just as Dobby started licking glitter off the heel of her foot.

By now Severus had seen all he wanted to see, and quickly turned around and marched off down the hall. He felt disgusted by what he had seen, and wanted to get far away from the pair of sparkly elves as fast as possible.

Chapter Text

It wasn't easy for a man like Fenrir Greyback to show his affection for someone. He was a beast, a terrible monster whose limited social skills and psychotic tendencies made it difficult for him to have a lasting relationship with someone.

The longest relationship he'd been in lasted only three hours. Everything was fine until he got hungry, and decided that his girlfriend would make a tasty snack.

But Bellatrix Lestrange was special. He knew that he loved her. The way she walked, the way she laughed as she tortured her victims, the way she smiled when she was secretly planning something wicked. It was her adorable smile that he loved most of all. But how should he go about telling her that he loved her? How did he let her know that she was the one?

These were the questions he pondered as he sat alone in his room, sifting through a pile of bones and other gruesome objects he'd collected. He picked out a nice arm bone, and sat gnawing on it thoughtfully as he tried figuring out a solution to his problem.

His bedroom was filled with an assortment of bones, claws and fangs he'd strung up from the ceiling, along with carcasses of chickens and stray dogs hung in bunches near the window for when he needed something to munch on. Dried blood clung to the walls, and his bed was nothing more than a massive pile of torn and ragged blankets in the corner of the room.

He thought about giving her some jewelry. Women liked jewelry, and he had some nice necklaces made of fangs from various animals he'd slaughtered. But that didn't seem like enough. She was such a lovely lady, he had to do something really nice for her.

A few days later, Greyback approached Bellatrix with a small, gift wrapped box for her, all tied up with fancy ribbon and beautiful wrapping paper.

"I have something for you," he said, handing her the package. "Go on. Open it."

Bellatrix gazed down at the package he'd given her. It was the size of a ring box. She pulled the corner of the ribbon, untying the knot on the ribbon, then peeled off the wrapping paper and opened the lid. What she saw left her too stunned to speak as she stared down at the object in the box.

"Do you like it?" Greyback asked. "It's a replica of my big toe made out of diamond."

Bellatrix's mouth opened in wordless silence as she looked up at him. What kind of person gives someone a diamond toe?

"I thought about giving you a replica of my heart to show my feelings for you," Greyback continued. "But hearts are so overused nowadays that I thought I'd get creative and try something different."

Bellatrix remained silent.

Not knowing what else to do, Greyback suddenly blurted out, "I love you." She responded by slapping him across the face. Apparently she didn't like being given a diamond toe as a gift.

Chapter Text

Our story begins early one morning in the Snatcher's campsite as Scabior is just waking up.

Scabior yawned and stretched, then tied his unruly hair back with a black ribbon and got out of bed. When he went to get dressed, Scabior's clothes were right where he left them the previous evening, which means they were still thrown on the floor beside his bed. Everything was all there on the floor, except his plaid pants.

This was a problem because Scabior only owned one pair of pants, and he didn't have a single pair of underwear.

You see, Scabior didn't like to wear underwear. He was a very attractive young man who usually slept with a different woman every night of the week. Underwear was just one more article of clothing that he had to remove before going to bed with someone, so he preferred not to wear any. He could get down to business faster without it.

Scabior searched his entire tent, but his plaid pants were no where to be found. Where could they possibly be? He searched the trunk at the foot of his bed, but the only article of clothing he found in there was his great grandfather's musty, faded old kilt. He really didn't want to wear that smelly old thing, but he didn't have a choice. It was either that or nothing.

He put on the kilt and walked out of his tent, ready to start the day. His men were already awake and were sitting around the campfire having breakfast. They took one look at Scabior in his great grandfather's kilt and immediately burst into laughter.

"Oi! Wha's so damn funny?" Scabior shouted above the laughter from his men. "Don't you know I'm making a fashion statement over 'ere?"

"Fashion statement?" said one of the Snatchers.

Scabior's men stopped laughing and looked at each other. They had to admit that their leader could wear just about anything and make it look good. On anyone else the kilt would have looked ridiculous, but somehow Scabior managed to pull it off.

"Eh, it looks good enough for me," Greyback shrugged. "If Scabior says it's cool then it's cool. Besides, the kilt goes good with his scarf - they're both pink."

Little did Scabior know that the war would finally reach its peak that night, as Harry Potter began his final battle with Lord Voldemort. This meant that unless he could find his missing pants, Scabior would soon be forced to lead his men into war wearing his great grandfather's kilt.


The final battle had begun. Scabior bravely lead a team of his strongest men and women to war, all of them ready and willing to follow any comnand he gave them.

As Scabior stood atop a tall hill overlooking the covered bridge in the distance far below, his sharp vision spied movement on the bridge. It was Neville Longbottom, and was that...? No, it couldn't be... Scabior thought he had to be seeing things. But no, Scabior's eyes did not deceive him. Neville was infact holding Scabior's plaid pants and waving them in circles above his head for all the world to see.

"Hey!" Neville shouted, his voice carrying across the cold night air. "Hey you! Yeah, you in the pink kilt! Looking for these?"

"Bloody bastard!" Scabior swore, gritting his teeth in anger. "'Ow the 'ell did 'e end up with my plaid pants?"

Neville Longbottom had snuck into the Snatcher's camp and stolen Scabior's pants. He did it to lure the Snatchers into a trap, because none of them were aware of the dangerous barrier that had been cast before the covered bridge, or that the bridge was rigged to explode. All Neville had to do was figure out a way to get the Snatchers to come at him while he stood behind the protective barrier. And what better way to do that then to enrage the Snatcher's leader by stealing his only pair of pants?

Furious at the impudent little pureblood brat for stealing his pants, Scabior screamed as he lead the charge down the hill towards the covered bridge. His Snatchers followed close behind, Scabior's long scarf and kilt flapping on the wind as he ran. But just before he reached the barrier, Scabior tripped and fell flat on his face in the dirt.

Moments later, the air was filled with the terrible sounds of blood curdling screams of agony. And as he looked up from his place on the ground, Scabior saw several of his men instantly killed as they struck the invisible barrier and their bodies disintegrated into ash.

Scabior yelled for his men to stop, and the rest of the Snatchers immediately did as they were told. Neville was about to laugh at Scabior for tripping when the head Snatcher stood up, and Neville's mouth dropped open in shock.

Aside from being very attractive, Scabior was also well endowed, and the kilt didn't do a very good job of covering his privates.

A wide grin spread across Scabior's face as he noticed what Neville was looking at.

"Wha's wrong, little boy? Never seen a real man before?" Scabior jeered.

Neville's face blushed bright red. Needless to say, he wasn't jumping around and waving Scabior's pants in the air anymore.

"I betcha wish you 'ad one as nice as mine, don't you, little boy?" Scabior continued. "Even Granger told me 'ow good I was when I took 'er out in the woods."

"He's right, you know," said Hermione, popping up from out of nowhere. "He really is quite good. Much nicer than your shrivelled, puny little thing."

"Hermione!" Ron exclaimed, stunned by what she had just said.

"And he's better than you too, Ron!" Hermione snapped.

Ron jumped off the bridge and drowned himself in the river.

Seeing his chance, Scabior summoned his pants from Neville and put them on. He then used his magic to disable the barrier. Neville was forced to run for his life as Scabior lead his Snatchers out onto the bridge.

But it wasn't over yet. Neville still had one final trick, and he wasted no time using it as he triggered the explosion that caused the bridge to collapse behind him.

With the ground giving way beneath him as the bridge collapsed, Scabior was forced to use his great grandfather's kilt to parachute to safety. He sailed out over the river, gliding on the winds until he reached the grounds beyond Hogwarts castle. And that is the story of what happened when Scabior lost his pants, and how he survived the second war.

Chapter Text

The warm, late September sun shown brightly overhead as the students of Hogwarts sat in the Great Hall eating lunch. Above them, a few thin whisps of white clouds lazily drifted by on cool autumn winds, the ceiling high above mirroring the pale blue sky with streaks of white and the occasional bird passing by.

Students were conversing with each other in pleasant tones as they ate. The afternoon was calm and peaceful, that is until a sixteen year old wizard came running into the Great Hall, laughing as he held the Sorting Hat by its tattered brim.

"Severus!" the young wizard called out as he ran towards the Slytherin table. "Severus, you've got to see this!"

Severus Snape looked up from his meal as the older wizard approached the table.

"What are you doing, Scabior?" Severus queried, raising an eyebrow as he cast a curious but cautious glance at Scabior.

"Look, Severus," said Scabior, a wide grin on his young, handsome face. "I taught the Sorting 'At a new trick." And with that he plunged the hat down on Severus' head before the younger wizard even knew what was happening.

The rip in the Sorting Hat that served as its mouth opened wide as the hat suddenly called out in a loud, ringing voice, "Virgin!"

Students in the Great Hall gasped when they heard the Sorting Hat publicly announce that Snape was a virgin. They then began to laugh.

Scabior grinned as he looked around at his classmates, watching as they beat on the tables and slid out of their seats as they roared with laughter.

"Dammit, Scabior!" Severus snarled, his sallow features blushing bright red as he yanked the hat off his head. "How dare you embarrass me in front of Lily?"

"Like she doesn't already know," Scabior said mildly.

Severus looked across the table at Lucius, who was doubled over in his seat laughing. Furious, Severus stood up in his seat, leaned over the table, and roughly shoved the hat down on Lucius' head, tugging it down past the blond aristocrat's eyes.

"Second base!" the Sorting Hat cried.

Narcissa quickly stood up and stormed out of the Great Hall, her eyes blazing with anger and betrayal.

"Ooh, wha an interesting development this is," said Scabior, watching as Lucius lifted the hat just in time to see Narcissa stomp out. "Aven't been truthful with tha one, now 'ave you, Lucius?"

Now Lucius was getting pissed, his blood boiling as he glared at Scabior. This wasn't funny anymore, not when it effected his relationship with Narcissa.

"So, you think this is amusing, don't you, Scabior?" Lucius sneered. "Well, I wonder what would happen if we put the Sorting Hat on you."

Scabior's eyes widened as he backed away from the table. "Oh no, you can't put tha thing on me!"

"And why not?" Severus snapped. "Afraid of what the hat might tell everyone?"

Scabior turned and ran just as Lucius launched himself over the table and dove at Scabior.

"Get him!" Lucius shouted, tumbling over the low bench in front of the table and falling to the floor, his target now racing off at top speed down the hall. "Get him, Severus!"

Severus shot off like an arrow in the dark, grabbing the Sorting Hat and chasing after Scabior. And even though this was years before Scabior became a Snatcher, he could still run like the wind, faster and more nimble than anyone in the school. The only problem was that he wasn't expecting Sirius Black to stick his leg out and cause him to trip, landing flat on his belly on the cold, stone floor.

"Go on then, Snape!" Sirius laughed. "Put it on him! Let's see what happens when he wears it."

A brief struggle ensued as Scabior and Severus wrestled and fought each other on the floor. Finally, Severus managed to put the Sorting Hat on Scabior's red streaked head.

Everyone in the Great Hall became silent as they turned to focus their attention on Scabior.

The Sorting Hat was quiet. Some of the students held their breath, leaning forward in their seats to get a better look at the tattered and patched old hat perched atop Scabior's head.

Then, the hat began to vibrate. Thin white whisps of smoke began to waft out from underneath the brim of the hat. The vibration grew stronger, until the hat shuddered violently and opened its mouth, letting out a tremendous scream not unlike that of a Howler as it rocketed off Scabior's head and blasted off into the air.

The Sorting Hat continued to shriek as it whizzed about the hall like a rapidly deflating balloon, with multicolored flames and sparks erupting out its backside as it screeched and flew towards the ceiling.

Students watched as the hat spun and cartwheeled in the air, bouncing off walls and repeatedly slamming into the ceiling. Any minute now they expected the poor hat to explode like fireworks in the sky.

"Bloody hell!" Lucius exclaimed, staring up in awe at the screaming, spinning hat. "What did you do to it, Scabior?"

"I told you not to put it on me!" Scabior shot back angrily. "It was too much for it to 'andle an caused it to overload."

"Too much?" Lucius gaped at Scabior. "Too much what?"

"Well..." Scabior said nothing else on the subject. He merely grinned as the Sorting Hat continued bellowing, rolling and tumbling in the air.

Chapter Text

It wasn't unusual to see female singers and celebrities in the muggle world carrying around tiny dogs in their purses, always showing them off and getting their pictures taken with them. It seemed like almost every woman who had money and was famous carried around tiny dogs with them. So when the trend began to spread into the wizarding world, Narcissa insisted on getting a dog so she could bring it with her wherever she went.

But this was the wizarding world, and Narcissa wouldn't except just any old dog. Her sister laughed and suggested using her cousin Sirius, but Narcissa refused to stuff his mangy hide into her expensive, imported, dragon hide purse. No, that was not good enough for her. And in any case, she doubted that he would fit in there anyway.

Narcissa went to the pet store with Lucius, searching for the right magical pooch that she could love and pamper, something small and adorable that would fit in her purse, and would look good next to her when her picture was printed in the paper. She scanned the many animals in cages, but none of them were good enough for her. Finally she spied a young three-headed dog in a cage in the corner.

It was perfect. It was so rare and unique. Even in the wizarding world, people didn't normally come across Cerberus pups for sale. And best of all it was downright adorable.

Narcissa watched as the Cerberus frolicked playfully in its cage, enthralling her with its cuteness as it looked up at her with three pairs of big, bright puppy dog eyes. She just had to have it, but Lucius didn't think buying the animal was a good idea.

He reminded her that Cerberus pups can grow very large, and that while it was little and cute now, in a few short months it would quickly outgrow her purse, and then outgrow their house. But Narcissa didn't care. She threw a hissy fit and demanded that her husband buy her the Cerberus puppy.

Lucius gave in and bought her the puppy, and for the next few months everything was fine. Narcissa carried the three-headed puppy around with her everywhere she went.

She took it to restaurants where its three heads were always snapping at passing customers and snatching food off the table. She took it to the park where it would fight over which head got to bring the frisbee back to its owner. Pretty soon it got too big for her to carry around with her, and by then puppies in purses was no longer the in thing. So she gave the overgrown dog to her husband and told him to dispose of it at once.

Luckily, Lucius was an animal lover with a fondness for dogs, and he couldn't bring himself to simply kill the poor innocent creature. He decided to find a good home for the puppy where it would be loved and taken care of properly.

Several days later, Hagrid happily marched into Dumbledore's office, his new puppy following behind him on a leash.

"Isn't he adorable?" he said, beaming at the headmaster as he showed off his new pet. "I've decided to name 'em Fluffy. Would you believe Lucius Malfoy gave 'em to me for free? Said 'e needed to find a good home f'r em, and tha 'e knew I'd be the righ person to look after 'em."

Chapter Text

"I don't know about this," said Severus as he hesitantly approached the water. He bent down and dipped his finger into the water. The water was freezing. Merlin knows what such cold temperatures would do to his man parts.

He looked up at Scabior, who was standing a few yards away, guzzling the last ounces of booze from a bottle of firewhiskey. The head Snatcher clung to an overhanging tree branch with his free hand to maintain his balance as he continued drinking like there was no tomorrow.

Severus huffed out an irritated sigh. Of course Scabior was drunk. He only came up with ideas like this when he was so plastered he couldn't see straight. And given his current level of intoxication, Scabior probably wouldn't even notice if the water shrunk his bits to the size of raisins.

Scabior finished the last of his firewhiskey, leaning back as he tipped the bottle upwards and fell over with a yelp onto his back, sending up a cloud of dirt and dust as he hit the ground. He laid there in the dirt laughing, and Severus rolled his eyes, shaking his head as he looked at him with disgust etched into the lines of his face.

"Well now," said Scabior, clinging to the nearby tree as he stumbled and staggered upright. "Don't tell me you're afraid of a little water, Severus." He motioned with a wave of his hand towards the clear lake. "It's beau'iful, isn't it? Like a charming young lady. Makes you want to get naked an just dive right into 'er."

"This isn't going to be like the time Greyback caught you snogging a lamp post is it?" Severus queried. "Because I don't fancy the thought of hauling your drunk arse out of the water when you start to drown."

Scabior, who had tossed his empty bottle in the bushes and was in the process of unbuttoning his pants, looked up with a confused expression in his face. "Tha was a lamp post?"

Severus sighed and turned around, walking over to a large rock by the water's edge and sitting down on it.

"Oh come on, Severus," said Scabior. "It's not like I've got something you 'aven't seen before."

Severus flinched and looked away as the drunk Snatcher yanked his pants and underwear down around his ankles in one go. By the time he looked back, Scabior had removed his jacket and was in the process of unzipping his vest.

Snape's dark eyes widened slightly as he gazed down at Scabior's lower regions. Perhaps he really did have something Severus had never seen before.

"Scabior, are you - " His words broke off abruptly as the Snatcher leapt into the water, sending a spray of water droplets flying in all directions.

Severus took a step back, shielding his face with his hand as water flew everywhere. Scabior splashed him with water and laughed.

"Come on, Snape. Get in 'ere! Or do I 'ave to come out there an drag you in by that overly large nose of yours?"

Now he was just making Snape mad.

The Potions Master looked around, making sure they were alone before he began to disrobe. He was just about to enter the water when Scabior said, "Um Severus, aren't you forgetting something?"

Snape's sallow features blushed bright red. He hadn't taken off his underwear, and thought he could sneak into the water with them still on.

"Take it off," said Scabior.

Oh how he wished it were Lily telling him that...

Severus slipped out of his underwear and quickly entered the water before anyone could sneak a peek at his goodies. He went up his neck in the water, trying to cover as much of himself as he could. Meanwhile Scabior had grabbed hold of an overhanging tree branch and started climbing it.

He climbed into the tree, the water glistening and dripping from his nude form. Severus had only a moment to realize what was happening before Scabior screamed "Banzai!" and launched himself off the branch into the water.

He hit the water with a tremendous splash, landing directly on top of the poor Potions Master and completely submerging him under water.

Snape coughed and spluttered as he broke through the water's surface. He shook the water from his hair, then began screaming obscenities at Scabior, who was now casually doing the backstroke through the water like nothing had happened.

Nearby in the forest, a figure was lurking in the shadows. Someone was here, someone who had seen them get into the water and was secretly watching them.

The figure crept closer, a smile blossoming on her lips as she gazed at them from between the bushes. What a fun surprise this would be.

Severus had just calmed down and stopped yelling at Scabior when a female voice called out to them.

"Hello boys! Need some company down there?"

Severus and Scabior looked up, and there in the distance atop a hill was Bellatrix, completely nude with everything on display. Their mouths dropped open in shock as the wild haired woman went running full speed down the hill, bare feet pounding the earth as certain parts jiggled and bounced.

She dove in the water, landing on Scabior's back and plunging him underwater. "Get along little sea horsey!" she yelled excitedly. "Yeehaw! Ride 'em sea horsey!"

Bellatrix had fueled up on coffee before stripping naked and going for a run through the woods. She was now in her hyperactive "coffee cowgirl" mode, which meant that anyone unfortunate enough to cross paths with her became her new horse.

Scabior struggled to swim out from underneath her, her legs and feet battering his sides as she kicked at him and held him under. He broke through the surface of the water, and as he glanced back he saw Severus swimming to shore as fast as he could.

"Oh no, you don't!" Bella screeched, seizing hold of Snape by the ankle and pulling him back in the water just as he neared the shore. "You're my sea horse, and it's time to go for a ride!"

Scabior stopped and stared at them for a moment, completely dumbfounded by the sight he was witnessing. Was there nowhere they could go to get away from Bellatrix and her coffee fueled outbursts?

Chapter Text

A month had passed since Severus had accidentally used the "M" word in front of Lily. And no matter how many times he apologized for his unfortunate choice of words, she still wanted nothing to do with him.

He tried showing up one morning at the entrance of the Gryffindor common room, waiting for her with flowers in his hand, hoping that a gift of flowers would be enough to make her forgive him.

The moment she saw him standing there she snatched the bouquet of flowers from his hand, threw them on the ground, and stomped on them.

He then tried sneaking into the school kitchens and swiping a pie, one that he knew was her favorite flavor, and offered it to her with an apology.

Lily smashed the pie in Snape's face, leaving him standing there with coconut cream and chocolate sprinkles covering his face and clinging to his oily hair.

Severus was running out of ideas and he didn't know what to do. If flowers and pie didn't work, then what would?

He caught up with her one afternoon after Charms class, running to catch up with her as she departed the classroom and made her way towards the staircase.

"Lily!" he said, coming to a hault in front of her, his arms held out at his sides, blocking her path up the stairs. "Lily, please, I just want to talk. You have to let me explain."

She rolled her eyes, folding her arms across her chest and frowning in annoyance.

"Lily," he began, slightly out of breath after chasing her down the hall. "I am so sorry, Lily. I didn't mean to call you that. I was so frustrated by Potter and his annoying friends that I lost my head. I wasn't thinking clearly. And you know I would never call you that if I were in my right mind, Lily."

She looked at him, a strange look of confusion on her face. "What are you talking about, Severus?"

Now it was Severus' turn to look confused. "You know what I'm talking about. That morning I accidentally called you a..." He paused, not wanting to repeat the offensive word he'd used that day. "You know...the 'M' word."

Lily's mouth dropped open in shock. "Severus, you think that's what this is about?"

Lily started laughing. She laughed until her sides hurt, leaning against the wall and sliding down it to sit on the floor.

"Oh Severus," she said, wiping tears of mirth from her bright green eyes. "That isn't it at all. I know you didn't mean to call me that."

Severus was baffled by her behavior, and for the life of him he couldn't understand why she had been so cross with him. If she wasn't upset over him calling her a mudblood then what was it?

"What is it then?" he asked. "Why are you so upset with me?"

Lily snorted. "It's not you specifically, Sev," she said, waving a hand at his lower regions. "It's those nasty, faded grey drawers you had on the day James pantsed you. You have such boring taste in underwear. How could I ever be interested in a man with such unappealing underwear?"

Chapter Text

After his last attempt to win Bellatrix's heart had failed miserably, Greyback decided that the only thing to do was to pick himself up, dust himself off, and try again. There was just one problem - Greyback was still dead set on using body parts other than his heart to express his love for her.

"I love you with all my butt," he told her. "I would say heart, but my butt is bigger."

He got another slap in the face for that.

"What do you know about romance anyway?" Bella snapped. "You're such a disgusting dog. You don't know the first thing about women, or how to behave around them."

"That isn't true," said Greyback, rubbing the sore spot on his cheek where she had slapped him. "I know that sticking my nose into someone's crotch is considered an unacceptable way of saying 'hello'. And I know that I'm not to bring a woman home from a date then immediately drag my butt across the carpet of her living room floor."

"What is it with you and butts?" Bella asked. "Do all werewolves have a butt fetish?"

Now Greyback looked offended. "I'll have you know that sniffing butts is a social custom among my people that is used to greet other werewolves. It is similar to the human exchange of business cards."

"That is sickening. Have you nothing better to do with your time then run around jamming your nose up other people's butts?"

Greyback shook his head. "Clearly you know nothing about the legends of my people," he said, sounding very serious about the whole matter.

"Then enlighten me," said Bellatrix. "Why do werewolves sniff people's butts?"

"It all began many moons ago," said Greyback, "when all the werewolves were invited to a party. When they arrived at the party, they were required to leave their butts at the door. All the werewolves hung them on hooks by the door.

"The party went on and the werewolves were having a great time. All of a sudden a fire broke out. The werewolves raced to the door and grabbed whichever butt they could grab first.

"That is why to this very day, in an effort to find their own butt, werewolves sniff each other's butts when they first meet each other."

Bellatrix stared at him, her mouth hanging open in shock.

"You know what?" said Greyback. "Maybe you aren't the right woman for me after all. If you don't even have basic knowledge of my kind and why we do the things we do, then I don't think this is going to work for us."

Chapter Text

Lucius was obsessed with his hair, far more than normal men were. He washed it three times a day, morning, noon and night. He then had his house elf brush it for him. And when the elf was done, he had to count every single hair on Lucius' head. Twice.

Lucius made his house elf do this because he had a fear of going bald. It was all he ever thought about. Everything he did was always about his long, luxurious locks. And the billions of galleons he'd inherited barely covered the cost of all the hair care products he bought every week.

It reached the point where Lucius' obsession with his hair was starting to ruin his marriage. Sometimes Narcissa wondered if he loved his hair more than he loved her. And one day she got her answer.

Narcissa was out in the garden watering her flowers when her husband came running up to her. He had a frantic look in his eyes and a hairbrush in his hand.

"Look at this, Narcissa!" he said, waving the hairbrush under her nose. "Look! Look at it! Do you see what is wrong?"

Narcissa backed away as her husband shoved his hairbrush in her face. She looked at the brush, which was covered in Lucius' silvery blond hair. But for the life of her she couldn't see what was wrong.

"Don't you see, Narcissa?" Lucius persisted. "There are far too many hairs in my brush this morning. This isn't the normal amount I usually have in my brush."

"How can you tell?" Narcissa asked.

"I can tell just by looking at it. I am going bald, I tell you!" her distressed husband wailed. "I'm going to prematurely lose all of my hair and become a horrible, hideous monster. No one will want to look at me. I'll be fired from my job at the Ministry, and be forced to work as assistant game keeper to that overgrown monstrosity Dumbledore hired!"

Narcissa sighed and rolled her eyes. She was growing tired of listening to her husband's paranoid ramblings about going bald.

"Lucius, listen to me," she said in her most calm, reassuring tone, trying to soothe her husband's anxiety. "You are not going bald. Everything is going to be fine. Why, it doesn't even look like there are that many hairs in your brush to me."

"Surely you're joking," said Lucius. "I had Dobby count the number of hairs in my brush - "

"You made Dobby count them?!" Narcissa exclaimed, interrupting her husband.

"Yes," Lucius continued. "And he found two more hairs than he usually does. Two more hairs! If that doesn't mean I'm going bald then I don't know what does."

By now Narcissa had had it with her husband. She glanced to the side and spied a nearby rose bush in her garden, and it gave her an idea. She waved her wand, and seconds later a colorful variety of flowers sprouted from Lucius' head.

"There," she said. "Now you have more to worry about than going bald, such as trying to pass the beehive in the garden without getting stung. And best of all you won't need to spend all your money on shampoo anymore. Just go out to the fields and have a dragon poop on you for fertilizer!"

Chapter Text

Even in the wizarding world some of our music and trends make it through, such as the time Narcissa started carrying a Cerberus puppy in her purse because all the rich celebrities were doing it. This time it was music that had caught her attention.

There was one station on the wireless that played popular muggle music. There weren't many in the wizarding world who listened to it. It was mostly for people like Arthur Weasley who had unusual tastes in music, and were curious about what kind of music the muggles were listening to.

One day, Narcissa turned on the wireless and heard a song called Peacock playing on the muggle music station. She listened to it, and immediately fell in love with it. It had such a catchy, upbeat rhythm. And as she listened to it, she started thinking of her husband.

A seductive smile spread across her lips. This song was putting her in the mood.

She brought her husband into the bedroom while the song was still playing, then tapped the wireless with her wand to lock the song in place, making it play on a loop.

"Do you hear that, Lucius?" she cooed, pulling him close and running her hands across his chest. "It sounds lovely, doesn't it?" She paused, her eyes dark with lust as she gazed up at him. "Does it give you any ideas, darling?"

Lucius looked confused. He stared at the wireless, listening to the bizarre music playing. He didn't understand his wife's interest in these strange muggle trends. And now she had moved on to music. What's next? Muggle fashion trends? Merlin forbid. The last thing he needed was his wife running around town in a tank top and jeans

"Luicus," she breathed. "Do you know what I want?"

He looked back at her, his mind racing as he desperately tried to figure out what it was she wanted. He listened to the music, and heard the woman on the wireless singing about a peacock.

A peacock? What kind of muggle nonsense was this?

Poor Lucius felt more confused than ever. What his wife wanted and what the song was about didn't seem to match.

"You want to see my peacock?" he asked, hoping that was the right thing to say.

"Yes, darling," Narcissa replied. Then she leaned in close, whispering in his ear, "Show me your peacock, Lucius."

Lucius swallowed hard, then took a deep breath. "Alright then."

He took a step back, his wife watching him with anticipation. There was a brief pause, then Lucius vanished right before her very eyes, and a magnificent peacock appeared in his place.

Narcissa's eyes widened, her mouth opening in shock. "Lucius?"

The large bird cocked his head to the side, giving her a questioning look. Wasn't this what she wanted? She said she wanted to see his peacock, so he showed it to her.

Chapter Text

Lucius sighed in frustration, looking around the room for his missing house elf. Just where had Dobby run off to now? He'd been searching the manor for him for an hour, and still couldn't find the incompetent elf.

Ever since Dobby discovered the wine barrels in the cellar, Lucius noticed that not only had his wine started mysteriously vanishing, but his house elf had as well. It was obvious that Dobby had been sneaking into the wine, drinking it little by little over a period of days until one of the barrels was almost half empty. But so far he'd been unable to catch him in the act.

Lucius called the elf's name, bending down to look for him under the couch.

This was ridiculous. Dobby was his servant. And yet here he was, searching the house for his wine smuggling little elf. He then felt a tap on his shoulder, and leapt up with a yelp, his flowing cloak swirling around him as he turned to see Severus standing behind him.

"Severus," he gasped, one hand holding his chest. "What are you doing here? The meeting isn't until ten o' clock."

"Actually, Lucius, I'm here to inform you that the meeting began ten minutes ago. The Dark Lord was concerned, and sent me to see what was keeping you."

Just then Dobby popped into the room, giggling and laughing as stood before his master, the ragged pillowcase that served as a shirt stained with deep purple blotches.

"Yes, master?" Dobby laughed, staggering forward and tripping over his feet. He clung to Lucius' leg to keep himself from falling to the floor. "You is calling for Dobby, sir?"

"Dobby!" Lucius snarled, picking the elf up by the back of his pillowcase and hoisting him into the air. "You were supposed to wash my clothes so I'd look presentable for the meeting. Now, thanks to your drunken antics I have to attend the meeting in the same clothes I wore yesterday."

Severus sighed and rolled his eyes. "I hardly think the Dark Lord is going to care whether or not your suit is clean and pressed, Lucius. He's more concerned about your absence."

Lucius dropped the elf, who was now rolling on the floor laughing. "You are to wash my clothes at once, Dobby," he said. "That is an order. And they had better be clean by the time the meeting is over."


The meeting was drawing to a close. Voldemort was just about to wrap things up when Dobby suddenly popped into the room, landing atop the table in the center of the room.

Several people gasped, others simply stared open mouthed and wide eyed in shock, as the drunken elf pranced merrily atop the table with a pair of Lucius' purple underwear on his head.

The house elf had somehow managed to stuff his large ears through the leg holes in the underwear, his ears flapping as he danced and spun in a circle.

Narcissa's eyes widened, her cheeks flushing bright red at the sight of her husband's favorite purple shorts on display for everyone to see. "Lucius..." she said. "He's... he's wearing your undergarments on his head."

"Purple underwear?" Bellatrix cried, leaning forward in her seat and looking at Lucius. She then burst out laughing, sliding out of her chair and onto the floor.

Lucius took one look at the elf and launched himself across the table, grabbing for the elf and missing as Dobby doged the blond aristocrat and rolled off the table onto the floor.

Dobby weaved between the legs of the people seated at the table, still laughing as he ran for the chased after him, leaving the others sitting there with stunned expressions on their faces, a few of them laughing along with Bellatrix, as he headed out the door after the mischievous house elf.

Chapter Text

Scabior had finally made it in the world. He had money, fame and women. His hit song The Sound of Winter had been number one on the charts for the past three weeks. He had everything he could ever want. Unfortunately, with fortune and fame came the usual type of problems encountered by those in the music industry.

Like most musicians, Scabior often indulged in drinking and partying. He adored his fans, letting the women join him for nights of alcohol and sex. But one night a party at a local club got out of hand, thanks to their band leader having one too many to drink.

When the police were called out, Scabior and his fellow band members were arrested, and brought into the local police station. Scabior put up quite a fight, his words slurred as he yelled obscenities at the police. It took two people to pin his arms behind him, handcuffing him and stuffing him into the back of the police car, where he then proceeded to vomit on the floor of the vehicle.

They were sentenced to six weeks community service. Which was a relief, seeing as how Scabior's last drunken adventure had earned him something worse than community service.

"So we've landed ourselves a bit of community service. Tha's no reason to be so down about it," said Scabior.

He and his fellow band members were in one of the local parks, cleaning up litter left behind by careless visitors. And while the others didn't look too happy to be cleaning up other people's garbage, Scabior still wore a grin on his face, trying to cheer up the others in his group.

"'Ow about we make a game out of it?" Scabior suggested. "Let's see who can round up the most rubbish first. An whoever snatches the most wins."

Heads turned as they looked at him with interest. There were nods and murmurs of agreement from his men. And before long they were running around the park, trying to snatch up every empty bottle and scrap of paper they could find, laughing and running from one place to the next.

"That's mine!" Greyback cried, pouncing on Issasc just as he stopped to pick up an empty beer bottle. Greyback knocked him to the ground, and they rolled across the grass into the pond.

Scabior laughed, running past them and scooping up the bottle, not even pausing as he snatched the bottle and tossed it in his bag before running off to his next destination.

Their actions didn't go unnoticed, and before long a group of fans began to gather, pointing, laughing and taking pictures, as Scabior and his band members ran this way and that through the park. The paparazzi joined the group of fans and onlookers, and a crowd formed along the entrance to the park.

When Scabior saw his fans gathered around the entrance, he went over to them and started flirting with the women like he always did, signing autographs and letting them have their pictures taken with him. Two of the women there caught his attention, for they were even more excited than the others to see him, and were cheering and calling his name.

"Scabior!" a young lady named Anna called out. "We love you, Scabior!" Her friend Catherine mirrored her actions, excitedly waving one of his posters and asking him to sign it.

"Please, Scabior!" said Catherine. "Sign my poster, please!"

"And my boobs!" said Anna, pulling the front of her top down for him.

"And our CDs!" Catherine added.

Scabior smiled and laughed, taking a pen out of his pocket and writing his name along the top of Anna's breasts. He really did love being a rock star, just as much as he loved his loyal fans.

Chapter Text

It was a calm, pleasant evening in the Snatcher's campsite. The stars were shining brightly in the clear skies above, while the sound of crickets chirping and the crackling fire filled the warm night air.

Scabior and his men were sitting around the campfire eating their evening meal, when suddenly a thin, foul aroma wafted in, reaching their leader's nose and making his eyes water from the stench.

"Wha the bloody 'ell is tha?" said Scabior, plugging his nostils with his scarf.

Greyback, who was sitting next to Scabior and munching on some brownish-grey colored mush in a bowl, looked up from eating and said, "That was me. I farted."

"Oh, Merlin dammit, Greyback!" Scabior swore, fanning the air with his hand. "Tha's it! No more dog food for you."

The werewolf looked over at his boss, finished chewing a mouthful of dog food, and said, "You sure about that, Scabior? If you take me off dog food, I'll have to go back to eating people food. And when I eat people food, I literally eat people as food."

Scabior was still cussing as he stood up and moved away from the rancid werewolf. "I can't believe you just did tha," he said.

A few of his other men had begun to chukle, smirking at each other as they watched the scene unfold.

Greyback was getting annoyed. Why was Scabior getting all upset over a little werewolf flatulence? Everything in nature farted. Hell, butterflies probably did it too.

"Well, I did! And I'll do it again!" said Greyback, leaning over as he prepared to let one rip.

"You'd better not," Scabior warned.

"Or else what?" Greyback asked, pausing in his actions.

"Or else I'll tell Umbridge the truth about the last three mudbloods we caught. An when she finds out tha you ate the lot of them, she'll castrate you an you'll 'ave to wear one of those collars tha looks like a lamp shade so you don't lick yourself."

Needless to say, that was enough to keep Greyback quiet and prevent any further rebuttals from erupting out his behind.

Chapter Text

Narcissa Malfoy had always enjoyed collecting fine works of art. She had her husband buy her several paintings and sculptures, until her collection grew so large that they had to add another room onto the house for it.

One morning she received an owl from Severus, saying that, since he'd become Headmaster of Hogwarts, he'd had several paintings of himself made to hang in Hogwarts castle. He enjoyed having his picture painted so much that he'd gone ahead and had a few extra portraits made. He wanted to show them to her, since he knew she loved art, and maybe let her keep a few of them to take home with her.

Narcissa arrived at Hogwarts a short time later, going up to Severus' office to admire his new works of art. He was pleased to see her, and began walking her around the room, showing her various paintings and explaining each one in detail.

Some of them were ordinary portraits showing his smug face in the painting. Others showed Severus flying over the castle on a broom while the full moon shown brightly overheard. One painting showed him at his desk writing, while another showed him on the shores along the lake while the sun set on the horizon.

The paintings were beautiful, each one unique and finely crafted. Narcissa could tell that the artist who made them was skilled at his work. But there was one painting that sat in the corner, covered by a sheet of red velvet. Narcissa wondered what it was and why it was hidden beneath the sheet.

"Severus," she said, walking towards the veiled painting. She lifted the corner of the velvet cloth to take a peek underneath. "Why is this painting hidden beneath a cloth? Isn't it finished yet?"

"I'm not sure what that is doing there, Narcissa," Severus replied. "I was supposed to receive eight paintings in total. That one arrived with the others, but I don't recall telling them to send it here."

"Do you know what it is a painting of?"

"Not really. In fact I don't even remember having a ninth portrait made."

He crossed the room and stopped beside the veiled painting. Narcissa stepped aside as Severus pulled the fabric off the portrait, revealing a moving image of himself in an emerald green thong and matching vest dancing on stage.

The Potions Master in the painting tossed his flowing hair back, climbing up the pole and hanging upside down with his legs wrapped around it, the women in the crowd cheering and screaming as he pulled off his vest and threw it at them.

Naricssa gasped, covering her mouth in shock while Snape's sallow features blushed bright right. "Severus! Why did you have them make a painting like this?" she asked. She looked utterly repulsed by the vulgar images in the painting.

"Well I...that is to say...I mean," Severus stammered incoherently. He was at a loss for words, and didn't know how to explain himself. He'd been caught with his pants down, literally. So there was nothing left to do but tell her the truth.

"I'm a stripper," he confessed. "It's something I do on the side for extra money when I'm not making potions. Believe it or not, but the teacher's salary I earn isn't as much as you'd think. And some of the rare potion ingredients are rather expensive. So..." he gestured to the painting, his face still quite red from embarrassment.

"And you allowed yourself to be painted like this?" Narcissa asked.

"I may have been drinking at the time..." said Severus.

Narcissa took a step closer, gazing at the dancing, stripping image of Severus in the painting. She then turned to him and said, "Is it possible you could have one like this made of Lucius?"

Chapter Text

Scabior came stumbling down the hill behind the rest of his men, his vision blurred and his stomach churning uncomfortably. How he'd managed to run through the woods after these three he had no idea. But it didn't matter now, for they had caught their targets, and from the looks of things one of them was female.

"Well, 'ello my precious pet," he said, his words slurred as he leaned over in the red-head's face, the strong smell of alcohol wafting from his lips as he spoke. "Aren't you a lovely little thing. An wha exactly is your name?"

"What?" Ron looked at him in confusion as the drunken Snatcher reached out and gently stroked his hair.

"Shh, don't speak, love," Scabior whispered, holding a finger to Ron's lips to silence him. "There are Snatchers in these woods. Wouldn't want one of them to 'ear you, now would we, pet?"

Greyback sighed and rolled his eyes. "If you're looking for the girl, Scabior, she's over here."

"Oh, is she now?" said Scabior, his eyebrows raised as he looked at Hermione with interest. He walked over to her and started playing with her hair. "An you," he said. "You're my lovely. Wha do they call you?" He then leaned in a little too close, and accidentally drooled all down the front of her shirt while he was admiring her hair.

Hermione gasped, gazing down at the warm saliva that soaked the front of her shirt. Five seconds later Scabior took a step back and vomited on the ground at her feet.

"You're a pretty girl," said Scabior, wiping his mouth with his scarf. He then pointed at Ron and said, "But I think she is much nicer."

Chapter Text

Lord Voldemort Apparated out onto the barren city streets just outside of Severus Snape's house. He silently walked up to Spinner's End, pointed his wand at the doorknob, and watched as the door swung open, squeaking slightly on its hinges.

The Potions Master was asleep on his living room sofa, his shirt unbuttoned, his chest and abdomen covered with melted chocolate ice cream, and one of his socks was missing.

Voldemort walked up to Snape and roughly prodded him in the side with his wand. Snape snorted and came awake with a start. He then groaned and scratched his head, looking up at Voldemort through his glazed eyes.

Voldemort looked down at the half drunk Potions Master. "Good morning, Severus," he said, none to cheerfully.

Snape smiled up at the Dark Lord. "Good morning, master." His speech was slightly slurred when he spoke.

"Are you ready for the Death Eater meeting today?" Voldemort asked.

Snape sat up on the sofa, a simpering smile on his face as he looked up at the Dark Lord. "I am slave girl, you are master," he slurred.

Voldemort took a step back, eyeing Severus curiously. "Has Lucius been putting you under the Imperius Curse again?"

Snape chuckled and tried to stand up. "Nah, you're making things up," he giggled, holding onto the arm of the sofa to keep from falling flat on his face.

"You're drunk on a love potion," Voldemort said disdainfully.

"I think I'm d-drunk," Snape said, his knees wobbly as he fought to stand.

"Why were you drinking last night?"

"I was thinking of asking you about him."

"Who? You can't mean Lucius Malfoy?"

Snape hiccupped and grinned at Lord Voldemort. "Do you think I'm pretty?"

Voldemort frowned. "No. Nagini thinks you're delicious. Now straighten up."

Snape stared off into space, his gaze drifting towards the window as he looked out at a random squirrel running along a tree branch. "I am not a real person," he said quietly, his mind lost in a drunken haze.

Voldemort gave an exasperated sigh. "Yes, you are. We've been through this before."

Snape then suddenly spun around, his eyes wide as he shouted, "God does not exist!"

"I am your lord!" Voldemort spat angrily.

"You are not my lord."

"I am Lord Voldemort!"

Snape got down on one knee before his master and bowing his head as he said, "My lord, Luke Skywalker has been captured."

Voldemort yanked Snape up by the collar of his robes and bitch slapped him several times in the face. "Sober up, dammit!" he shouted.

The Potions Master sniffed and then began to sob hysterically. "I'm going to die alone!" he wailed.

"Yes, Nagini will see to that soon," Voldemort snarled.

"No," Snape whined. "Voldemort kills Snape."

The Dark Lord raised his wand and pointed it in Snape's face. "Is that the way you'd prefer to die?"

"Yes," Snape answered.


Snape grinned. "Because it's delicious, of course."

Voldemort rolled his eyes. He let go of Snape's collar and the Potions Master fell to his knees on the floor. "I'm getting tired of this, Severus," he snarled angrily. "You have a meeting to get ready for."

Snape collapsed onto his belly, snorting and laughing as he started rolling around on the hard wood floor. Holding his sides as they began to ache from laughter, Snape looked up at the Dark Lord and laughed. "I just asked you that and I don't, you do! Hahaha!"

"That's because I'm the boss of the meeting, and you have fifteen minutes to get ready!" Voldemort shot back.

Snape stared up at the ceiling. "Deep. I think deep."

"No, you think drunk."

"How so?"

"Because you were so intoxicated that you thought Lucius was your boyfriend last night...again."

Snape slowly sat up. His mind was finally starting to clear somewhat, and he realized that he was getting a headache. "Tell me something I don't know," he said, as he sat rubbing his sore temples.

"Fine," Voldemort said, now thoroughly annoyed with his half drunk Death Eater. "Rowling altered your death scene in the final movie, and now you're going to die on a boat dock."


"Then you're dead! End of story."

"Oh..." Needless to say, hearing that sobered Snape up immediately.


After the meeting was over and most of the Death Eaters had gone home, Bellatrix decided to stay behind to check up on Snape before she left.

Bellatrix was worried about Snape after Voldemort was forced to drag him to the meeting, literally. And to make matters worse, when he arrived at the meeting, the Potions Master smelled strongly of chocolate ice cream and his breath reeked of Amortentia.

Snape was sitting at the table in Lucius' kitchen, hunched over in his seat and sipping from a mug of tea when Bellatrix walked in. She slid a chair out from the table and took a seat, sitting next to him as he drank his tea.

"How are you feeling, Severus?" Bellatrix asked.

Snape didn't even look at her as he muttered into his mug, "The universe was created by the big bang."

"You're still hungover aren't you?"

"Yeah, like always," he sighed wearily.

Bellatrix raised an eyebrow and gave him a curious glance. "So the rumors are true?"

"No," Snape replied simply.

"Liar. I heard what Wormtail said about you."

Snape couldn't have cared less what she'd heard. His head was throbbing, and he was so hungover and sick that it was effecting his normal thought pattern. He placed his mug on the table, smiled at Bellatrix and said, "Cool! I heard about that a couple days ago."

Bellatrix sighed and shook her head. "Severus, you need to stop drinking."

Snape removed a flask of Lucius' love potion from a pocket in his robes and poured it into his tea. "Mmm! My favorite!" He then resumed drinking his tea.

"Lucius doesn't even know how to brew a love potion correctly," Bellatrix said, watching with disgust as Snape downed his entire mug in seconds flat. "That's why you get drunk and sick when you drink it."

"I broke up with Lucius two years ago," said Snape, now drinking from the flask itself. "She's jealous that Gertrude and I are still together."

"That's not what I heard..."

"What did you hear?" Snape asked, looking rather worried.

"That you're sleeping with Lucius Malfoy after he drugs you with one of his poorly made love potions."

Snape blushed, feeling embarrassed and ashamed of himself. "I hope I don't disappoint you." He then slipped the flask back into his pocket.

"Believe me Severus, you're not a disappointment, just an embarassment to the rest of the Death Eaters when the Dark Lord has to drag you to our meetings."

Snape slammed his fist down on the table. "I have infinite capacity!" he said angrily.

"So you can drink a lot," Bellatrix remarked dryly. "Brilliant. I bet Lucius is so proud of you."

"Was that intended to be sarcastic?"


Snape whipped out his wand and began waving it wildly in her face. "Ako nga wala eh taposako pang maghahahap for you!" he cried. He then slid right out of his chair and crashed onto the kitchen floor.

Bellatrix looked down at him as he lay sprawled on his back on the floor. "Creating new curses doesn't work so well when you're hungover, does it?"

"Well maybe I'm closer than you think," Snape muttered sourly.

"Closer to what? Closer to Lucius?"

"I can't remember. It was somewhere in Vancouver Island."

"Severus, go to bed."

Snape resurfaced above the table, chuckling. "That's what she said."

"That's what HE said."

"That's what they said."

"So there's more than one, is there? Are you, Lucius and Gertrude having a threesome?"

"Only if you keep making stupid rumors," Snape growled in annoyance.

"Right Severus, whatever you say."

"Yeah, you're right." He then passed out onto the kitchen floor.


When he awoke several hours later, Snape was alone in the kitchen. The room was growing dark as the sun set beyond the horizon, painting the skies with shades of crimson and gold beneath greying clouds of silver and violet.

At first Bellatrix had been concerned about her fellow Death Eater. But after sitting down and talking to him, she was so disgusted by his behavior that she left him where he lay on the floor.

He had a terrible headache, his head throbbing with horrible pain as he slowly opened his eyes, gazing up at the darkened room around him. He was also feeling dizzy and nauseous. He had to vomit in the worst way imaginable. So he hauled himself up onto his feet and heaved his guts up into the kitchen sink.

After his stomach finished releaving itself of last night's love potion, Snape leaned against the drainboard. He was sick and exhausted, and his knees gave way as he slid down the cupboard and back down onto the floor. His eyes closed, and for a moment Snape started to doze off. He then heard the voice of Lucius Malfoy, speaking softly to him as the blond aristocrat knelt beside him on the floor.

"Severus, it's me. Are you awake?"

Snape opened his eyes and saw Lucius kneeling beside him. "I'm awake," he answered tiredly. "Are you?"

"Yes, I am. How are you feeling?"

"Quite good actually." He then shot up off the floor and resumed puking in the sink.

"Are you sure?" Lucius asked, rubbing the Potion Master's back as he tried to comfort him. "You look a little ill, if you ask me."

Snape groaned and looked around the kitchen. "Since when did the walls get all blubbery?"

"Oh dear, it's worse than I thought. Hang on. I'll help you into bed."

"Thank you. That's very helpful," said Snape, allowing Lucius to help him up the stairs and into one of the spare bedrooms.

"I never should have given you that potion last night. It's all my fault that you're sick," said Lucius as he helped Snape into bed. "Now just relax. There'll be no more parties for us."

Snape actually looked disappointed to hear this. "Fine then. Be that way."

"Severus, you need to get some rest. You're not well, and I'm going to take care of you."

Snape's vision blurred and he suddenly cried, "Activate emergency protocol 3019216 Sierra fox trot!"

Now Lucius was really starting to worry about him. "Uh oh... I hope that potion hasn't poisoned you."

"I'm glad I'm not alive," Snape groaned. "If I were, I'd be like you."

Lucius sat down on the side of the bed. "Now now, until the last film is released you aren't officially dead yet."

"Is Elvis Presley still alive?" Severus asked.


"That guy you like."

"Please, just relax and try to get some sleep," Lucius said, tucking in the ill Potions Master.

Snape seemed rather annoyed by Lucius' behavior. "There you go again," he grumbled. "Oh forget it."

"I wonder if Bellatrix can brew a sleeping potion for you," Lucius mused.

"Oh right. Sorry," Snape muttered, starting to doze off again.

"No, it's quite all right. You're not well so it's understandable."

"No, I'm a scientist," Snape said with a grin.

Lucius was troubled by Snape's behavior. It was clear that his poorly concocted love potion had done more than effect him physically, making him sick and drunk. It had also effected him mentally. He feared that he was watching Severus fall apart right before his very eyes, and there were tears in his cold, grey eyes as he said, "I think you overdosed on my potion."

Snape looked at him and frowned. "You really have no life. You're crying over nothing. No one understands me."

"I understand you. Just rest. You'll be okay."

Snape shook his head. "You're wrong."

"Go to sleep. You're sick."

Snape laughed weakly and smiled. "Hahaha, just joking."

Lucius leaned over and wrapped his arms around Snape. "That's why I love you," he said, placing a kiss on the Potions Master's forehead.

Snape smirked. "You girl."

Chapter Text

The Christmas season had come to Hogwarts. Snow was falling on the grounds, blanketing the many towers and outdoor paths in a layer of powdery white. The Yule Ball was in full swing, and the teachers and students were enjoying the holiday festivities. One teacher in particular was enjoying himself a bit too much, and that person was none other than Severus Snape.

"Is everyone enjoying the Yule Ball?" Dumbledore asked. He then heard a loud belch beside him. He turned his head in the direction of the noise, and saw Professor Snape sitting with a half empty glass of firewhiskey in his hand.

Severus giggled and looked around. "Did I do that?"

"Ah Severus, there you are," Dumbledore said with a cheerful grin. "You seem to be enjoying yourself."

"Yeah, why?" Severus sneered. Unfortunately, he had the habit of getting mean when he was drunk.

"Well, judging by the amount of firewhiskey you've had, I'd say it's impossible for you to not have a good time."

"'re a girl?" Severus asked, a simpering smile spreading across his sallow features. He tried to stand and nearly slid right out of his seat, spilling a portion of his drink down the front of his shirt as he gripped the arm of the chair to maintain his balance.

Dumbledore watched as Severus tried once more to stand. "Careful not to spill your drink, my boy," he said, watching as the Potions Master placed his drink on the table before finally managing

Severus then turned around and said, "Write me a poem about a house!"

Dumbledore chuckled. "Oh my, you are really enjoying yourself, aren't you?"

"No. Not at all." The intoxicated Potions Master staggered sideways, tripped over his own feet, and fell on his arse, right in front of the teachers and students.

Dumbledore watched as Severus conjured a mirror and gazed at his reflection. "Do you like what you see, Severus?" he asked.

"To be honest, you could use some tweaking," Severus muttered, tapping the mirror and looking rather disgusted by the sight of his own reflection.

Dumbledore bent down and took hold of the professor's arm, trying to hoist him up onto his feet. "Come on now, up you get," he said, helping the drunk Potions Master to his feet.

"Get what?" Severus asked, looking rather dazed and confused.

"Perhaps you ought to sit down a bit."

"Do you know what I am thinking?" Severus asked, a mad glint in his eyes as he gazed at the old man. He then ripped his clothes off and tossed them into the Goblet of Fire.

"Severus, get back here!" Dumbledore shouted as he watched the naked professor tear off through the Great Hall.

"No!" Severus yelled as he ran. "You do not satisfy me anymore!"

Several people gasped in shock, heads quickly turned, and McGonagall fainted at the sight of her former student sprinting naked down the hall.

Hermione watched as Severus ran past. "Professor, what're you doing?!" she cried.

"I have to leave!" Severus answered, running for the door. But then he stopped. He looked down and saw Luna Lovegood gazing up at him with her usual calm, serene expression plastered on her face.

Luna wasn't bothered by the fact that Professor Snape was standing there in his birthday suit, looking down at her with a simpering smile on his face. "It's a cold night outside, professor," she said, her casual tone making it sound as though she were discussing arrangements for Sunday brunch.

Severus seemed puzzled by this unusual statement. "Why did you say night?" he queried, raising an eyebrow and swaying slightly.

"Because it's night time," Luna replied calmly.

"Why is it night time already?"

"Because it's daylight savings time, I suppose."

"I like the dark..."

"Bloody hell!" Ron suddenly screamed. "Harry, look! Snape's completely naked!"

Harry took one look at his nude potions teacher and immediately threw up. Unfortunately, Hermione was standing next to him when he got sick, and the remnants of Harry's dinner end up splashed down the front of her lovely pink dress.

Chapter Text

Dobby was quite fond of the edible body glitter he had found in Hermione's bag while cleaning her room. He and Winky had tried it out on each other, getting drunk on butterbeer and doing body shots while consuming the delicious, flavored sparkly glitter. But although he had had fun experimenting with this pleasurable new taste sensation, what he really wanted to do was take some of this glitter home to his loving master.

That night, Dobby snuck into Hermione's room and stole her entire bag full of edible body glitter. He brought it home to his master, dragging the heavy bag up the stairs towards their bedroom, leaving shining flecks of silver and pink behind him on the floor.

Everyone thought that Dobby had been freed a few years ago, and that he would never again return to Malfoy manor. But over the years he had come to love the abuse inflicted upon him by Lucius Malfoy, and they developed a rather strange relationship, with Dobby acting as the willing submissive whenever Lucius wanted a pleasure filled night of inflicting pain upon the poor creature.

"Master," Dobby called out, opening the bedroom door and looking around for Lucius. "Master, I is home. And I has brought you a gift, sir."

Lucius entered the room, walking out of the bathroom wearing a luxurious emerald green bathrobe tied at the waist with a silver drawstring. He looked down at the elf, a glass of wine in his hand as Dobby heaved the heavy bag across the room and deposited it on the bed.

"Look, master," said Dobby, panting from exertion as he climbed up onto the bed. He took one of the bottles of shiny glitter from the bag and held it up for Lucius to see. "This is edible body glitter. This one is tasting of grape flavor, sir. You sprinkles it on then licks it off. It is very good, sir."

The blond aristocrat raised an eyebrow as he looked at the bottle of shimmering glitter sparkling in the candlelight. "Where did you find this?" he asked, setting aside his glass of wine on the table beside the bed.

"In Miss Granger's possession, sir," said Dobby. "Dobby suspects she was using it on the Weasley boy, sir. He has the most sparkly trousers as of late."

"I see." Lucius sat down on the bed beside his precious elf. He grasped the edges of his silk robe and eased the lush fabric aside, exposing his smooth, bare chest. "Go on," he said, in that oh so sweet, seductive voice of his.

Dobby's bright green eyes lit up as a smile spread across his face. "Really, sir? You is letting me use this?"

"Certainly," Lucius replied. "You have behaved yourself and taken your punishments when necessary. So I think you have earned a reward."

The house elf opened the lid of grape flavored glitter, dipping his fingers in the jar and smearing it across Lucius' chest. The pureblood wizard exhaled a deep sigh of pleasure as he felt the elf's hands brush lightly across his chest. Dobby then leaned in close and gave his master's chest a tentative lick.

Lucius was enjoying these pleasurable sensations, letting his darling house elf smear more glitter on his chest, painting him in a variety of different colors and flavors. It was their little secret. No one needed to know. Just a wizard and his elf, alone for the evening, enjoying a night of passionate bliss.

Chapter Text

After being married for close to twenty years, the spark had gone out of Lucius and Narcissa's marriage. Narcissa still loved him, but Lucius had become cold and distant, their evenings spent in silence instead of the passionate loving frenzy that used to consume them every night. And with Draco grown and out of the house, the only real company Narcissa had these days were the house elves. At least they engaged her in conversation, even if it was only because she forced them to, but it was better than nothing.

That night during dinner, Narcissa and Lucius sat at opposite ends of the dinner table, with Lucius not even looking at her as he hid behind his copy of The Evening Prophet. Silence stretched between them like it always did, broken only by the sounds of cutlery scraping against the plates.

Narcissa sighed. Where was the love they once shared? When did reading the paper become more important than speaking to her?

What Narcissa didn't know was that, not only had her husband's affection all but vanished from their love life, but his attention was now focused elsewhere on a lady who's picture had been in the paper for the last few weeks.

Her name was Madam Rouge, and she was the top performer at a burlesque house known as The Dancing Dragon. She had long black hair, with streaks of violet and crimson trailing down the sides. She had large breasts, a slim, curvy figure, and was without a doubt the most beautiful woman Lucius had ever seen.

Instead of engaging his wife in conversation during dinner, Lucius would hide behind his paper, gazing at the pictures and advertisements for Madam Rouge. He knew he should have been paying more attention to his wife. But he felt so captivated by Madam Rouge's stunning beauty that he would have given practically anything to spend the night with her.

Lucius and Narcissa went to bed shortly after dinner, the silence still lingering between them as they lay down in bed. Lucius didn't even bother to tell her goodnight, and within minutes he was sound asleep, softly snoring in the darkness of their dimly lit room.

Their room was lit with a small sliver of moonlight that spilled across the floor and onto their bed, highlighting the silvery undertones of her husband's platinum blond hair.

Narcissa lay on her side for several minutes, watching her husband sleep. She wondered where it all went wrong, where they began to fall apart after years of being happily married. Was it a simple matter of reigniting the spark between them? Or was she no longer attractive to him? Was it possible that he was seeing someone else?

These questions swirled endlessly in her mind as the night wore on and the moon rose to fill their bedroom window.

Narcissa glanced out the window at the silvery moon, the stars that surrounded it shining brightly in the night. Each tiny star was like an ember of fire, burning in a rich, velvety background of deep midnight blue. She knew the hour must be very late, and Lucius had been asleep for a while now. So she got out of bed, went over to the closet, and started getting dressed.

She wrapped herself in a luxurious purple robe trimmed with white fur, her matching heels and amethyst earrings making her look like a moving sea of violets waving in a warm summer breeze.

She walked outside, taking one last look over her shoulder before she left, glancing up at the darkened bedroom window. He was there, sound asleep, completely unaware of what she did, of what she had to do if she wanted someone to look at her, to pay attention to her and tell her she was beautiful. And yet it wasn't the same, for they didn't look at her the way he did, the way he used to look at her when she was sure he still loved her.

This was all she had left, and with a heavy sigh she turned around and left, vanishing into the night.


There was a murmur of anticipation from the crowd as they awaited the arrival of Madam Rouge. Excitement filled the air, making it tingle with vibrant energy. The lights dimmed and the curtains drew back, revealing a scantily clad woman wearing nothing but a gold thong with matching gold stars painted over her breasts.

Music began to play, and Narcissa, with her flowing black curls streaked crimson and violet, began to dance. With her back to the crowd and her hands on her hips, she moved her butt from side to side in time with the music, before bending over and pulling a red silk cloak out of thin air.

She turned to face the crowd, the cloak draped across her shoulders, still moving in time with the music. She eased the cloak off her shoulders, letting it drift between her legs and over her thighs, thrusting her hips forward in an erotic display as she swirled the fabric over the lower regions of her body.

With a flick of her wrist the fabric came to life, curling itself around the pole in the center of the stage. She moved with the flowing fabric like it was her dance partner, and it tugged her towards the pole, spinning her around, before she stopped with her legs wrapped around the pole.

The fabric snaked its way around her waist, gently pulling her along with it as she climbed higher and higher, until Narcissa hung from the pole, her legs around the steel bar while the fabric kept her suspended in midair.

The crowd gasped as she reached inside the folds of the rich, silk material and removed a large bouquet of flowers. These muggles had never seen anything like her before, with her unique blend of erotic dance and magic. They thought she was no more than a regular stage magician, cheering for her as she tossed the flowers into the crowd below. They had no clue that what they were watching was an actual witch performing magic.

The music grew louder, the walls vibrating with the loud, pulsing beats as Narcissa slid down the pole. The lights flashed, and a tiger materialized from out of the folds of silk.

The tiger growled, snarling and baring is fangs at Narcissa. It slashed at her with its claws, narrowly missing her as she vanished on the spot, only to appear seconds later behind the snarling beast. She seized the tiger by the tail, yanking it off its feet and into the air as the tiger transformed into a harmless orange tabby.

The cat meowed, hanging by its tail as the crowd went wild, cheering and applauding as Narcissa vanished the cat and continued dancing, summoning a variety of animals from her enchanted cloak throughout her performance, such as a flock of doves and a pair of rabbits with solid black fur.


Narcissa went back to her dressing room after the show, feeling quite pleased with herself and the performance she'd put on. She had just finished slipping into a blue robe when she heard a knock on the door.

She opened the door, and there stood Lucius with a big bouquet of roses.

"Madam Rouge!" said Lucius, beaming at her from behind the enormous bouquet of red roses. Narcissa was still wearing her makeup, and had magically altered her appearance with glamour charms to the point where Lucius couldn't recognize her.

"Allow me to introduce myself," he continued. "My name is Lucius Malfoy, and I'm your biggest fan. I've been to all your shows for the last three months. And, might I add, I thought your performance tonight was spectacular."

"Thank you. You're too kind," said Narcissa, taking the flowers and slamming the door in his face, cutting him off in mid-sentence while he was going on about her breathtaking beauty.

Narcissa leaned her back against the door, sliding down it to sit on the floor. She looked at the flowers in her hand, frowning in disgust at the delicate blossoms, then angrily tossed them in the trash.

So this was why he'd lost interest in her. He'd fallen for her stripper persona Madam Rouge. If only there was a way to make him love her as much as he loved Rouge.


Later the next night, Lucius sat at the dinner table with his nose buried in the paper, still drooling over pictures of Madam Rouge while ignoring his wife. The dining room was silent for several minutes, until Narcissa grabbed the paper and yanked it out of his hands.

"Narcissa!" Lucius exclaimed. "What are you - " His words died in his throat as he took in the sight of his wife's nearly naked body, her enchanted cloak draped across her shoulders and her dark hair falling in lush curls around her face.

His mouth dropped open as he stared at her, his eyes roaming over every inch of her body.

"Good evening," Narcissa said sweetly, batting her long eyelashes at him. "Don't you recognize me, Lucius?"


She nodded, then conjured a bouquet of flowers which magically sprouted from the folds of her cloak. "For you," she said, holding the flowers out to him. "Just a little something to thank you for the roses you brought me yesterday."

Lucius accepted the flowers, bringing them to his nose and inhaling the light scent of jasmine and lilac. He then looked at her and said, "You're Madam Rouge?"

"Yes, darling, I am. I noticed that you've become rather fond of her. So I thought I'd let you in on my little secret, then give you a private show in the bedroom."

"Private show?" A wide grin spread across his face as Lucius put his arms around her, embracing her and giving her a kiss on the lips. "I would like that very much, Narcissa. But why didn't you tell me about this sooner?"

"I wasn't sure how you'd react," she admitted. "And how can I tell you anything when you never talk to me?

"My apologies. I shouldn't have allowed myself to get so caught up in my fantasies."

"You don't need to apologize," said Narcissa, taking him by the hand and leading him up the staircase towards their bedroom. "You were fantasizing about me and you didn't even know it. And now I'm going to make your fantasies into reality."

Chapter Text

"Aren't they adorable, Severus? Why, I haven't seen Hagrid this happy in years."

Snape frowned as he watched the three headed dog frolicking across the grounds, the large half-giant chasing after him and laughing. There was something strange about watching a ten foot tall grown man acting like a child while playing with an oversized puppy, and Snape didn't feel comfortable watching this.

Hagrid picked up a stick, which was actually a large branch that had broken off the Whomping Willow, and threw it up in the air. Fluffy leapt up, two of his three heads snatching the branch in mid-air, the third head snapping at the end of the stick and whining when he didn't get his share of the stick.

The three headed dog went jogging back to his owner, the third head grabbing the end of the stick and yanking it out of the mouths of the other two, then smiled as he presented the stick to Hagrid. The expression on head number two was of complete shock, while the first head growled at the third for stealing his stick.

McGonagall was delighted to see Hagrid and his new pet having such a good time. She watched as the half-giant petted the puppy, then smiled when Fluffy jumped on Hagrid, knocking him to the ground with all three heads licking his face.

When she turned to look at Severus and saw the scowl that still lingered on his face, she asked him what was wrong. "I'm allergic to dogs," Snape replied.

"That isn't true," McGonagall said curtly. "You're lying, Severus. And I don't appreciate being lied to."

Snape sighed. "Since when have you ever known me to get along well with dogs?"

She knew what he was hinting at, and she could she could see his point. But she didn't know why he couldn't be happy for Hagrid and enjoy the scene that was taking place in front of them.

Severus stood up, leaving the stone bench in the courtyard and headed back inside the castle. As he walked away, the playful puppy caught sight of the Potions Master's flowing cloak and decided it would make a fun new toy. Before Hagrid could stop him, the puppy went bounding off across the grounds, pounced on the unsuspecting Potions Master and tore at his cloak, biting and shaking the dark fabric like he'd been given a new chew toy.

Hagrid ran after the puppy, seizing him by the scruff of the neck as he pulled the dog off the professor. "Sorry about tha," he said. "'Fraid he's still in the playful puppy stage."

Snape groaned, lying flat on his belly in the grass. McGonagall ran towards him, and bent to help him up, when suddenly she gasped and took a step back. "Severus!" she exclaimed. "Your clothes!"

"What?" Snape rolled over onto his side. "What about them? What the bloody hell is going on?"

A group of passing students started pointing and laughing, the female students giggling like the school girls they were at the sight of Snape's torn clothing. One of the students, a young Slytherin girl by the name of Kaila, grabbed the camera from around Colin Creevy's neck and started taking pictures.

When Fluffy had leapt on Severus and started chewing on his cloak, he accidently ripped the seat out of Snape's pants, leaving the Potions Master with his bare arse exposed while one of his students took pictures of him.

Chapter Text

Everyone knew that Bellatrix was in love with Voldemort. It was no secret that she favored him over her husband, that she would leave Rodolphus in a heartbeat of only she could get with her beloved Dark Lord. She thought about him all the time, occasionally calling out his name while in bed with her husband.

She wanted him. There was no denying it. But the sad reality was that he could never be hers, because a man so twisted and tainted by the stain of evil was too wicked to love someone. However it didn't stop Bellatrix from trying, as she batted her eyelashes at him during meetings, smiling and putting on every once of charm she had, hoping desperately that some day he might notice her.

Bellatrix loved him so much that she decided she wanted a piece of him to carry around with her. Her first thought was that she wanted a lock of his hair. But since he was bald, that wasn't really an option. Her next thought was that she wanted something more personal, and her dirty mind settled on a pair of the Dark Lord's undergarments.

Not even Professor Quirrell had been fortunate enough to obtain a pair of Voldemort's underwear. He had gotten a fragment of Voldemort soul. Which, based on the rumors Bellatrix had heard, was being flung around at every random object the Dark Lord saw. No, she wanted something special. Something no one else had. She wanted his underwear to love and treasure for the rest of her days.

She waited until Voldemort had left on one of his missions, sneaking in his private chambers and tip toeing past the sleeping snake that lay coiled on the bed. She rummaged around through his dresser drawers until she found exactly what she was looking for - a pair of the Dark Lord's underwear.

Unfortunately for Bella, this particular pair of underwear hadn't been washed since the time before his near death experience in October of 1981. In fact none of his clothes had been washed since then, because he didn't feel the need to wash something he hadn't worn in over a decade. And the moment Bellatrix buried her face in Lord Voldemort's moldy shorts and took a sniff, the smell was so awful, so unimaginably putrid, that she fell over and died right there on his bedroom floor.

If only Voldemort had known that the best object he could have used to make a horcrux was a pair of his filthy shorts. No one would have wanted to touch that. And the only person who did was now dead and being looked over by a hungry, twelve foot long snake.

Chapter Text

They thought it was odd when the headmaster stood up and announced that he would like to say a few words, those words being "nitwit, blubber, oddment, and tweak," his somewhat slurred voice carrying across the room as he stood before the group of first years gathered in the Great Hall. Perhaps he was just a bit strange, the students thought, not knowing that their headmaster was drunk off his ass when he made that statement.

"Thank you," he said, before taking a step back and almost falling into his seat next to the other teachers.

Severus sighed and rolled his eyes. Beside him Professor Quirrell was chattering away, completely oblivious to Dumbledore's current state of inebriation, that annoying stutter getting more annoying by the minute. He wasn't getting paid enough to do this. And if it weren't for the fact that he was the only one capable of acting as a spy for the light side, he would have quit his job a long time ago.

"Severus, my boy," said Dumbledore, a simpering smile on his face as he held up a half empty goblet of wine. "Are you enjoying yourself on this fine evening?"

"Yes, of course I am," Snape replied sarcastically, a frown on his face as he watched the old man grinning like a fool. He was trying very hard to ignore the constant stuttering going on in his ear as Quirrell continued to ramble on about Merlin knows what.

"S-S-Severus, wh-what exactly di-did you say his name was again?" Quirrell asked, motioning with a nod towards the drunk man who was now staring at his left hand as though it were the most fascinating object in all of human history.

Good god, were they both drunk? Or was Quirrell such an idiot that he couldn't remember the name of one of the most famous wizards in history?

"I am Professor Dumbledorf," said Albus, abandoning his fascination for his hand as he leaned sideways and almost slid right out of his seat. A portion of wine sloshed onto the table, staining the white table cloth a deep shade of rich violet. "Emphasis of the 'f'. It's Dumble-dorf," he repeated once again. "The f stands for fart, because I'm an old fart and I fear that no one understands me due to my advanced age." He then belched loudly and buried his nose in his goblet of wine.

Snape groaned and buried his face in his hands, his greasy hair spilling forward to frame the sides of his face.

"I told you this would happen," came Trelawney's voice from further down the table. "I warned you what would happen when Saturn came in close contact with Jupiter during the alignment of Sirius and Neptune."

"Sh-sh-she's a lo-lovely young lady, isn't she, Sev-Severus?" chirrped Quirrell, pointing with his fork at the so-called seer seated on the other end of the table. He was smiling at her in a way that suggested he'd become rather fond of her in the short time he'd known her.

'How lovely,' Severus thought, his lip curling in disgust as Quirrell attempted to make conversation with Trelawney. 'They can get married, and instead of wedding rings they'll have matching turbans.' He thought for a moment what it would look like if Trelawney attempted to cram that mass of frizzy hair into one of Quirrell's turbans.

Beside him, Dumbledore was now laughing like an idiot, spilling the remainder of his drink down McGonagall's dress. When he tried to draw his wand to clean up the mess he'd made, he slid out of his chair and onto the floor with a loud thump.

"Class dismissed!" he called out to the room, while Hagrid and Professor Sprout got him by the arm and tried helping him onto his feet.

"Oh dear," said Quirrell, peering down at the drunk old man. "Is h-he going t-to be alright?"

Severus wished very much that he could crawl under the table and hide. It was going to be a very long night, and from the looks of things it was only going to get worse as the evening progressed.

Chapter Text

Scabior had always been quite the ladies man. He didn't always have to snatch women. Most of them came to him of their own free will, lured in by his charm and uncommonly handsome good looks. He sometimes had so many females flocking to him all at once that he occasionally found himself engaged in a relationship with more than one woman at a time. This is the story of one of those times.

Samantha Williams was a lovely young lady. She had a fire in her eyes as well as in her heart, her bright green eyes glimmering with cunning mischief. She was Scabior's favorite, but she wasn't the only one he was currently involved with. There was another, a woman by the name of Rachael Lovette.

Now Rachael was a charming woman. She was both pretty and intelligent. And although she didn't know it, Scabior saw her as more of a friend than a girlfriend.

When it came time for Scabior's birthday, Rachael bought him a beautiful new scarf as a gift. Scabior loved the scarf, and thanked her for the present. He then left shortly after receiving his gift and, unbeknownst to Rachael, headed straight for Samantha's house.

Dear Samantha, the fiery girl with burning embers of playful sensuality and passion in her heart, had planned something for Scabior's birthday as well, something far more naughty than a simple scarf.

When Scabior reached Samantha's house, he found a note taped to the front door of her house that said -


The door is unlocked. I'm naked and ready. Come and snatch me, hot stuff.


Scabior opened the door, the blood already beginning to pool in his lower extremities. He saw a trail of red rose petals laid out on the carpet, and followed it up the stairs to Samantha's bedroom.

Upon entering the bedroom, Scabior saw that Samantha had lit several red, white and pink candles, and used them to decorate the room. There were dozens of them covering the desk, the top of the dresser, and set in the corners of the room.

Scabior paused for a moment, taking in the sight of the many candles as their flickering flames waved to and fro, casting dancing shadows on the walls. The trail of rose petals ended at the foot of the bed, where Samantha lay nude atop the blankets, waiting for him just like her note said.

"Well, 'ello beau'iful," said Scabior, as his eyes moved hungrily over her naked form. He barely had time to remove his scarf and toss it in the corner before Samantha practically pounced on him and began taking off his clothes.

The two of them went at it like a pair of wild animals. They had sex against the bedroom door with such force and enthusiasm that the door fell off its hinges. When they finally made it to the bed, they had sex with such drive and spirit that the mattress went sliding onto the floor. It was then that Scabior had to stop because he noticed an odd smell wafting from the dresser.

He looked up a second later only to discover that his scarf - the new scarf he had received for his birthday - was on fire because he had accidentally thrown it on top of the lit candles on the dresser. By the time he put out the fire, there was nothing left of the scarf but one small, badly burned scrap of material.

This was the kind of luck Scabior usually had. Anything that could go wrong usually did.

"Wha am I going to do now?" Scabior asked, looking down at the charred remains of his scarf. "This scarf was a gift from a friend. I can't tell 'er I was with another woman an it got burned up while I was busy with you."

"Just take one of my scarves," said Samantha. "I can charm it to make it look exactly like the one you lost, and she'll never know the difference."

So that's what Scabior did. And to this day Rachael never knew about the accident with the burning scarf.

Chapter Text

To the people of the Wizarding world, he was known as Fenrir Greyback. But amongst his own kind, he was known as Silver Fang the Destroyer. He was the leader of England's largest underground wolf pack, and his cruelty was known far and wide throughout the land. He was a monster, an unremorseful killer who thought nothing of murdering children and eating them alive while they were still screaming.

He was powerful. He was a savage beast. Whenever the name Silver Fang was uttered in darkness, or whispered in shadows, the hearts and breaths of those who heard his name became still, pausing in anticipation, waiting for the attack, as if saying his name was enough to summon the foul beast from his lair. It was enough to make some people fear the name, while others dare not speak it.

Everyone thought Greyback was monster. They couldn't imagine him being anything else. Until one day when he was caught in a most unpleasant and embarrassing situation. He was running from Bellatrix when they saw him, up the stairs and across the hall, trying his best to escape the mad witch. He was running on all fours, and there was something in his mouth, but he ran past so quickly it was hard to tell what it was.

Bellatrix ran up the flight of stairs, where she cornered the werewolf in the hall and demanded that he hand over her underwear. Greyback shook his head, causing the lacy pair of black panties to wave back and forth.

"I said give it here, you mutt!" Bella shouted. She then grabbed the pair of panties dangling from the werewolf's mouth and started yanking on them. They began a tug of war over Bella's underwear, with Bella pulling Greyback across the floor as his long nails dug into the carpet.

"She's rather strong, now isn't she?" said Lucius, as he stood there with a glass of wine in his hand, watching the scene unfolding before him.

"Yeah," said Rodolphus. "Tell me about it."

Chapter Text

Harry was used to having horrible birthdays. It had been like that for as far back as he could remember. He got lucky one year, when his aunt and uncle were kind enough to give him a pair of Vernon's old socks for a gift. How thoughtful. Now if he ever needed a way to attract flies, he could just hang the stinking socks in the window and watch the bugs come swarming in. At least it would be a form of entertainment, he supposed. Because life with his aunt and uncle was unimaginably dull.

He hoped that, once he started going to Hogwarts, things would change and life would get better. And for the most part it did. But it also brought with it a new series of challenges and experiences, as well as new friends who wanted to celebrate his birthday with him.

Today was Harry's eighteenth birthday, and he decided that, after being away from school for over a year since the war had ended, he'd come back to visit his old friends and see how they were doing now that the school had been rebuilt and life had gone back to normal.

The younger students he'd befriended during his time at Hogwarts were still here, and they flocked to his side, hailing him as a hero and welcoming him back with open arms. He received many well wishes on his birthday, and even a few spur of the moment gifts his friends were able to magically whip up at the last second so they had something to give him.

It was nice, and he smiled and thanked them for their gifts and well wishes. But the gift that really took him by surprise was the birthday card he'd received in the mail today from his cousin Dudley. He hadn't seen or heard from him since before the war had ended, and needless to say he was more than a little surprised when he saw the card from his cousin arrive in the mail, wishing him a happy birthday and hoping all was well.

He brought the card with him as he snuck off the bathrooms, wanting to escape from all the noise and attention for a while. It was nice having so many friends welcome him back, but the attention and praise was a bit much, and Harry needed to get away for just a couple minutes before rejoining the throng outside.

He ducked into the bathrooms haunted by Moaning Myrtle, knowing full well that no one would want to follow him into her haunted domain. And there she was, still just the same as she was all those years ago when he first met her, floating above the toilet and moaning about something as usual.

She stopped moaning and whining the minute he walked in, looking up to see who had entered her bathroom. A smile spread across her face when she saw who it was. She'd always had a crush on him, loving him and watching him from afar as she peeked her head out of various faucets and toilets to spy on him during his time at Hogwarts.

Harry sat down on the toilet next to Myrtle, her smile growing wider as he began a conversation with her.

"Oh, so it's your birthday, is it?" she said, glancing at the card in his hand. "I wouldn't know what those are like, seeing as how I haven't had one in so long I can't remember."

"Yeah, it's from my cousin Dudley," Harry explained. "I wasn't expecting anything like this. I haven't heard from him in well over a year."

"That's nice," Myrtle said, sounding rather detached and uninterested. "Who else has sent you cards and presents for your birthday?"

"Ginny," Harry said, his face lighting up the instant he mentioned her name.

Myrtle saw the look on his face and frowned. She was jealous of this girl she'd seen him hanging out with during his school days. Oh, the things she'd seen while spying on him! Ron probably wouldn't be happy if he knew that famous Harry Potter had shagged his sister in the bathroom.

"She's brilliant," Harry continued. "She invited me over to her place this morning, just the two of us so we could be alone. And when I got there, there was a cake, and she was completely naked with frosting all over her - "

Moaning Myrtle let out an earsplitting screech, cutting Harry off in mid-sentence as she dove into one of the nearby toilets. Seconds later, a hand shot out of the toilet, and the next thing Harry knew he was being sucked down the toilet by Moaning Myrtle as she rocketed off through the pipes.

"You should have been with me!" she howled, hauling him along behind her. "Me, Harry Potter, not her! What can she offer you anyway? Can she show you the world in a toilet like I can? We could travel the world together, seeing places like Paris and Rome, and never have to leave the bathroom."

This wasn't exactly how Harry planned on spending his birthday, getting sucked down a toilet by a jealous ghost who had a crush on him. They came up in the lake, with Harry sporting bits of soggy toilet paper and algae that stuck to his hair and clothes.

Moaning Myrtle put her arms around him and grinned. She ignored the wet scraps of toilet paper hanging from his glasses and kissed him. It was the worst sensation he ever felt, the cold freezing his lips and sucking the breath from his lungs like a dementor.

Just when he thought things couldn't get away worse, Harry felt a slimy arm wrap around his waist, lifting him out of the water and up into the air where he came face to face with the giant squid.

Harry screamed and tried to free himself from the clutches of this overgrown piece of calamari, but it appeared as though she had a crush on him too, and was now wrapping her tentacles around him in a loving embrace while Moaning Myrtle looked on in horror.

Myrtle started fighting over Harry with the giant squid, which drew a crowd of students to the edge of the lake as they came to see what was going on. There were excited shouts coming from the shore, and in the midst of everything going on Harry could have sworn he heard someone call out, "Look! It's that girl from the toilet! She's fighting the giant squid over Harry Potter!"

The giant squid clung to her beloved Harry Potter while Myrtle screamed and cussed, summoning wave after wave from the lake and sending it crashing down on the squid. Apparently Myrtle still had some magic left in her, and when her attack didn't force the squid to drop her darling Potter, she unleashed her wrath upon the gaint squid by summoning the contents of every toilet in the school.

Harry looked up, his hair dripping wet as he spluttered and gasped, and saw a massive tidal wave looming overhead.

"Give him to me!" Myrtle screeched. "I said hand him over now!"

Harry had never seen her like this before. Her pale eyes were blazing with ghastly green flames, a silver aura shimmering around her lifeless body as she hovered several feet above the surface of the lake.

When the giant squid refused to hand over the Chosen One, Myrtle let loose with her tidal wave of filth from the toilets in Hogwarts' bathrooms. It was the last thing Harry saw before the wave struck him with such force that he was knocked from the grip of the giant squid and washed ashore like a piece of driftwood.

Meanwhile, Scabior and Sanderson were sitting on a hill watching the scene unfold before them.

"That really can't be sanitary," said Sanderson, watching as the unfortunate boy was swept away by the tide of waste water from the bathrooms.

"It serves 'im right though, doesn't it?" said Scabior. "After all those years of 'im giving everyone a load of crap with those books of 'is, it's nice to see someone sling some crap 'is way for a change."

Chapter Text

He didn't expect them to understand his love for her. How could they? Or better yet, why would they even bother? Severus knew that there were very few students in Hogwarts that wanted anything to do with him. And even then they always had someone with them, someone to who loved them and enjoyed spending time with them.

Lucius had Narcissa. Scabior was the sex symbol of Hogwarts and had by now slept with almost every girl in the castle. And Severus...he had Lily, for a while. But after slipping up and accidentally calling her the M word, Lily had ended it with him, and now he didn't have a snowball's chance in a dragon's den at getting back together with her. Though if she hadn't broken up with him, he might not have met her, his Water Lily.

They met one evening shortly after Lily had broken up with him, when Severus was still upset and the ache in his chest felt like it was ripping him in two. She had torn out his heart and stomped on it, crushing it into dust and throwing it into the wind. Alone, and with no one else to turn to, Severus retreated to the lake to wallow in his grief while the pain at what she'd done still ate at his insides.

He could have gone to Lucius or Scabior so he didn't have to feel so alone. But he couldn't stand seeing them with someone when he had nothing. That was too much to bear. He'd rather be alone then sit there watching Lucius snog Narcissa, or watch Scabior feeling up some girl in the corner before disappearing with her into the Room of Requirement.

And then he heard it, a gentle splash followed by a few drops of water landing in his hair. He looked up to see a tentacle waving at him from the water, and a few moments later a dark form broke through the surface of the water.

Severus soon found himself face to face with the giant squid. And although she wasn't the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen, the look in her eyes was something he could relate to. It was a feeling of emptiness and longing, for he knew the poor squid was all alone. No one ever came down here to talk to her, or to spend time with her. She probably didn't have a single friend in the world. Not unless you count the kappa hiding under the rock by the shore, and we all know how sociable he was.

Severus started visiting the giant squid every evening around sunset. That was when she was most active, swimming close to the shore and keeping him company by the water's edge. They spent many long hours together in the evening, sometimes watching the sun set on the distant horizon.

He named her Water Lily. And although he sometimes received odd glances from his fellow students as they watched him on his way to visit the giant squid, Severus couldn't have cared less what they thought about his relationship with her. She was good company, she always listened to him when he needed someone to talk to, and best of all she never judged him or called him names. She wasn't mean to him like the other students were, telling him to wash his greasy hair or making rude jokes about the size of his nose. She was there for him and he was there for her. And that's all Severus wanted was to be loved and accepted by someone.

Chapter Text

There were days his fellow teachers wondered what he saw in her, why Severus spent so much time with Professor Sprout, his evenings spent engaging in conversations with her as they whiled away the late hours of the evening. It was because they had something in common, something no one would have expected from mild mannered Professor Sprout.

Severus laughed as Pomona handed him another chocolate frog, the wreath of smoke encircling their heads creating a thin haze as they talked and ate their way through a pile of sweets.

"Oh, I know, Severus. Believe me, I understand what you're talking about," said Pomona, finishing off another chocolate frog and reaching for another from the pile on the desk. "Those little unruly bastards. I swear they drive me up the bloody walls sometimes. Why just the other day I had to fish Longbottom out of the mouth of the giant venus flytrap before it swallowed him whole."

Severus snorted, fumbling with the chocolate frog as it came to life and hopped out of his hands and onto the floor. The Potions Master went chasing after the chocolate frog, with Pomona laughing as the frog skittered across the floor. He leapt on the frog and went sliding into a mound of sacks containing potting soil. One of the bags fell on him and ripped open, spilling its contents all down the front of his robes.

"Ten points to Slytherin!" Severus exclaimed, holding the frog up high as he lay covered in dirt on the floor.

Pomona cheered and clapped her hands. "Well done, Severus!"

The Potions Master got to his feet, stumbling slightly and almost tripping over the hem of his cloak. He gripped the edge of the table with his free hand and pulled himself into the chair beside her. "Splendid evening, is it not?" he said, grinning at her. He then proceeded to bite the head off his chocolate frog.

"Of course it is, now that we're away from our students for the evening. This is the only time I have to relax, Severus. And what better way to unwind than with some magical herbs and sweets."

Severus adored her. She wasn't this open with anyone else, and certainly not around the other teachers. It was nice to have someone around who understood him and his frustrations with his students, someone he could relax and be himself around. She was more like him than most people realized, and he loved her for that.

Chapter Text

There comes a time in every child's life when a beloved pet passes away. Unfortunately, moments like these happened a lot in the house of Black.

First it was Druella's aquarium full of tropical fish. All the fish in her aquarium mysteriously died overnight with no explanation whatsoever. They were perfectly healthy the last time Druella went to feed them. And then the next morning they were dead.

Next was Narcissa's pet hamster. She awoke from her nap one afternoon to find it dead in its cage. After that it was Andromeda's rabbit. Any animal that was brought in the Black house inevitably wound up dead in less than a week after it was brought home.

Bellatrix watched, a disgusted frown on her face, as her two siblings held a makeshift funeral for Andromeda's pet rabbit. She didn't even want to be here, watching as Narcissa cried and Andromeda placed the baby bunny in a shoebox, then lowered it into a hole they dug in the back yard.

She didn't understand why her sisters were so upset, or why they had to hold a funeral every time one of their pets died. They couldn't even let their mother's fish be flushed down the toilet. They had to bury those too. And although her siblings didn't know it, Bellatrix was the one responsible for their pet's deaths.

It began when she put salt in their mother's aquarium and killed off the fish. The hamster died when Bellatrix discovered that hamsters squeak when you squeeze them. She liked hearing the hamster squeak, and so she kept squeezing it until the poor creature died of internal injuries. As for the baby bunny, she didn't see it sitting on the couch when she took a flying leap and sat on the rabbit by accident. Or at least that's the story she told to her sisters and parents.

If anyone were to ask Bellatrix why she did it, she would simply say that she didn't like animals. Or rather she didn't like the kind of animals her mother brought home. She wanted a pet hell hound, while most girls her age wanted a pony or a unicorn. But not Bellatrix. She wanted something fearsome and hideous, something she could train to kill on command, not these fish and rabbits her mother kept bringing home. And so she decided that until she got the pet she wanted, no one in the house would have any pets at all.


Years have passed. Bellatrix was now an adult, and she was still determined to have a pet hell hound of her very own. She was old enough now that she didn't need her mother's approval if she wanted an unusual pet. But then an idea came to her. The Dark Lord was in the process of building an army of Inferi, and over time a large number of animals wound up dead in the back yard while she was growing up. She knew her sisters were upset when their beloved pets passed away. Maybe she could bring them back and have her hell hound all at the same time.

Narcissa knew that something was wrong the moment she set foot inside her sister's house. The horrible smell coming from down the hall made her want to vomit, and she gagged and covered her mouth with her hand as she fought not to get sick.

What on earth had Bellatrix called her here for? And where was that horrific stench coming from? It smelled like something died and had been left to rot in the sun for a week. Narcissa soon discovered the answer to her question when she entered the main sitting room and found her sister surrounded by almost every pet that had ever died during their childhood. And there at her feet was an enormous black dog with red, glowing eyes.

"Do you like him, Cissy?" Bellatrix cooed, stroking the black dog's matted fur. "He's beautiful, isn't he?"

The dog was thin, its skeletal frame showing through its fur, with places where the flesh had decayed, revealing stark white bones beneath ragged shreds of skin and fur. Half its face had rotted away, the pale light shining from its empty eye socket casting a faint glow on its new master as it looked up at Bellatrix. There was no flesh on its right foreleg, and it smelled like a long dead corpse that had recently been pulled out the earth.

The other animals were also in varying stages of decay, some with missing limbs and ears, their fangs and claws longer and sharper than when Narcissa last saw her dear pets. Only these weren't her pets anymore. They'd been transformed into something else, into something unnatural, an abomination not fit to walk this earth.

Narcissa was horrified at what she saw. "Bella, what have you done? And that dog...where did he come from? I don't recall having a dog while we were growing up."

Bellatrix laughed. "You mean to tell me you don't recognize our dear cousin Sirius? Although I don't think that name suits him anymore. I think Cujo would be more appropriate."

Chapter Text

Bellatrix wasn't the nicest person in the world, and she was even worse on days when she was feeling randy and had no way of satisfying her needs. But it would be a cold day in August when she went to Rodolphus and asked him to make love to her. She'd rather admire the Dark Lord from afar than crawl in bed with her husband.

She refused to have a one night stand with a random stranger. She was a pureblood and didn't believe in that sort of thing. It was beneath her, something only low lives and muggles did. Therefore the only option was to collect dirty magazines, and then hide them from the rest of her family because no self-respecting Black would be caught dead looking at pornographic pictures.

For a while she managed to keep her dirty literature a secret. But then one day tragedy struck, leaving her magazines in shreds on the bedroom floor. She was so upset at seeing her precious magazines torn to pieces that she ran to Narcissa to tell her what had happened.

Narcissa was sitting in the den sipping a cup of tea and reading a book when her sister came barging in, interrupting the nice, quiet afternoon she was having. Narcissa was used to this by now since she had grown up listening to her sister's random outbursts. And so she continued sipping her tea and reading like nothing was wrong.

"My magazines have been torn to shreds, Cissy!" Bellatrix exclaimed, waving one of the butchered books under her sister's nose.

"To shreds, you say," said Narcissa, calmly turning the page of her book and taking another sip of tea.

"But they weren't just torn to shreds. Someone's been censoring my Lewd Dude magazines. Which means that somewhere in this house there's a pile of crotches."

Narcissa spit out a mouthful of tea and gasped. "A pile of what?!"


Meanwhile, a very content house elf was bedding down in a pile of tattered rags, making himself comfortable as he prepared to retire for the evening.

Dobby had taken it upon himself to rid the house of anything he deemed inappropriate. And when he found her stash of dirty magazines while cleaning her room, he decided to do something about it right away.

"How terrible," Dobby muttered as he clipped the private parts out of her magazines. "Dobby was asked to clean. So Dobby must rid the house of filth."

Chapter Text

Ever since Umbridge had thrown Trelawney out on her arse in front of the whole school, the failed seer started drinking more so than she normally did. She was depressed, and after Dumbledore made arrangements to keep her in the castle, the teachers often found themselves in the company of a drunk, crying seer who was thoroughly upset at being ridiculed and embarrassed in front of her students.

Most of the teachers tried comforting her, listening to her carry on into the long hours of the night until she either passed out from drinking too much or fell asleep. Tonight it was Severus' turn to babysit the drunken seer, and needless to say it wasn't the most enjoyable way for him to spend his evening. It was bad enough that he had to put up with annoying children whose only goal in life seemed to be exploding every cauldron they came in contact with, but this...this was too much.

He heard her coming before he saw her, her bracelets jingling as she hiccuped and staggered down the steps.

"Severus!" she called out, her words slurred from the amount of alcohol she'd been drinking.

The Potions Master looked up from the book he was reading and groaned. He knew this would happen eventually, and that he couldn't keep turning her around and pointing her in the direction of the other teachers whenever she approached him.

He'd seen the disapproving glances he'd received from his fellow teachers, the way Professor Spout glared at him when he directed the seer's attention to the head of Hufflepuff house for the third time that week. He knew they didn't want to deal with her anymore than he did, but he honestly didn't care. He needed his quiet time in the evening to unwind after listening to his students all day. And he couldn't relax while he was listening to Trelawney spew her drunken nonsense.

"Severus, I'm so glad I found you," she said, stumbling down the stairs and practically falling into Severus' arms. "I need your help with something. I'm working on a class with Firenze and I am in need of assistance."

Severus helped her stand up straight and walked her over to the couch. "What is it you need help with, Sybill?" he asked.

"The students have started studying sidereal time in order to begin calculating their astrological birth charts," Treylawney explained, sinking onto the couch and pulling her shawls around her for warmth. "The only problem is that I'm having difficulty explaining it to them. You see, Severus, most people assume that time is a strict progression of cause to effect...but actually, from a non-linear, non-subjective viewpoint, it's more like a big ball of wibbly-wobbly...timey-wimey...stuff."

Severus raised an eyebrow, giving her a curious look and said, "Shouldn't that be Professor Sinistra's department?"

"You'd think that, wouldn't you? But I'll have you know that, in some places, astrology and divination meet, Severus. And once you create your astrological birth chart, you can create your own horoscopes and calculate your destiny."

She paused, taking a drink from the bottle of sherry she'd brought with her during her late night trip through the castle, then belched loudly and continued.

"I'd really like a pineapple right now. I may have to have one of the house elves fetch me some crystalized pineapple." Trelawney leaned forward in her seat. "Severus, did I ever tell you about the time my aunt Tessy was killed by pineapples?"

"No." Severus had no idea where this conversation was going. He looked down and saw her hand on his knee. This was starting to make him rather uncomfortable.

She patted his knee and laughed. "I was ten when it happened, Severus. My aunt used to tell me that if you wished on a star, your wish would come true. Tessy always wanted to visit a tropical island, the kind with palm trees and pineapples, bananas, passion fruit and coconuts.

"One night she wished on a star that she could go to a beautiful island, where she could sit in the sun and eat pineapples all day long. She wished so hard that she accidentally ended up conjuring a bunch of enormous pineapples. They fell from the sky and hit her right on the head. She was the only person in my family to ever experience death by pineapples."

Severus stared at her, a look of incredulous disbelief on his face. Was this woman telling the truth? If so, he didn't know whether to laugh or to feel sorry for her.

"Let me give you some advice, Severus," Trelawney continued, hiccuping as she leaned back on the sofa, her glasses sliding halfway down her nose. "When life gives you lemons, sell them and buy a pineapple. How to better your life 101."

She was smiling at him when she said this, and Severus was beginning to think the poor woman had consumed so much alcohol that her brains cells were slowly beginning to wither up and die.

"And how exactly would that help improve the quality of one's life, Sybill?" asked Severus.

Trelawney took another sip of her drink. "Because you can do a lot of things with a pineapple. Such as killing your annoying relatives. And if we had enough pineapples, we could easily win the war by dropping loads of gigantic pineapples on the Death Eaters when they storm the castle. I'm sure they'd never see that coming, now would they, Severus?"

The dark man sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. "Of course not, Sybill. And then several years from now everyone will read in the history books about how we won the war with excessive use of fruit."

Chapter Text

Professor Quirrell was in a tizzy as he searched the halls of Hogwarts for Processor Snape. He'd been showing an educational film to the students in his class when suddenly the projector broke. He had no clue how to repair it, and had gone in search of Severus in hopes he could assist in the matter.

He found the Potions Master in the teacher's lounge enjoying a cup of peach tea while reading the paper. "Se-Severus," he stammered, wringing his hands as he approached the dark man. "I-I have bit of a p-problem and am in need of your assistance."

Severus lowered the paper, frowning at the stuttering Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. "What is it now, Quirrell?" he snapped, his curt tone indicating that wanted to be left alone.

"I-I'm afraid the p-projector has ta-taken a dump on the floor again, Severus. I don't know how to fix it. C-can you h-h-help me?"

Severus rolled his eyes. He had no clue why Dumbledore had decided to hire this incompetent nitiwit. "Fine," he said, setting aside his cup and paper. His robes billowed out behind him as he pushed past Quirell and headed for the door. He wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible so he could get back to his paper.

"You couldn't handle one simple machine defecating on the floor, Quirrell?" Severus queried, the anxious professor running to keep up with him. "Are you truly incapable of casting a basic Reparo charm?"

"I'm afraid it's n-not that simple, S-S-Severus," Quirrell insisted.

"Not that simple?" What could have happened to complicate the situation to the point where a simple Reparo charm wouldn't fix the problem?

As he approached the classroom, the door flew open and Draco came storming out into the hall.

"Wait till my father hears about this!" the blond boy ranted. "Projector taking a dump on the floor indeed. This school is a disaster. Faulty equipment, projector spewing its crap all over the floor - " He stopped abruptly when he almost ran right into Professor Snape. He looked up at the dark man, transfixed by Severus' dark stare.

"Is there a problem, Mr. Malfoy?" Severus asked.

Draco hesitated for a fraction of a second before continuing his rant. "No more than usual, sir." He bit out the last word with a bit too much attitude for Snape's liking. But since this was a student from his own house, Severus decided to let it slide.

The Potions Master was just about to continue on his way when Harry Potter came running up to him.

"Don't worry!" the Chosen One cried in an overly dramatic fashion. "I'll save everyone from the pile of projector poo on the floor!"

"Mr. Potter, kindly remove yourself from my presence and let me handle the situation," said Snape, glaring at the Potter boy. He was in no mood to watch Harry play hero and try to save everyone just because there were some technical issues in the projection room.

The Chosen One quailed under the professor's fierce gaze, and quietly scurried off while Draco pointed at him and laughed.

Severus approached the classroom door, and was just about to open it when suddenly the door burst open and out ran Bellatrix, laughing and trailing strips of film from the broken projector. The film was wrapped around her waist, slung over her shoulder, and tangled in her hair. She kept right on laughing like a maniac, ran down the hall and disappeared around the corner.

After pausing for a minute and wondering what on earth was Bellatrix doing in Hogwarts, Severus continued on his way and finally made it to the projection room at the back of the class. And there was Scabior and Violet in a passionate embrace, kissing and pawing all over each other, with most of their clothes on their floor.

It turned out that Scabior's scarf had gotten caught in the projector, and that was what had caused it to jam and spew its guts all over the floor. The Snatcher didn't even realize that his scarf had gotten stuck until the door open and he had Violet were startled as Severus entered the room.

"What are you doing in here?" demanded Severus, looking from the half naked Snatcher to the mess of film on the floor.

Violet quickly grabbed Scabior's jacket and used it to cover her nearly naked form.

"Wha does it look like we're doing?" Scabior snapped. "We were trying to find some privacy in 'ere." He then looked over and noticed his plaid scarf that was caught in the projector. "Sorry about tha. I guess we er...didn't notice." He grinned at Severus. "Looks like the projector 'as taken a mighty big crap on the floor there, Severus. But no worries. I'll 'ave it fixed in a jiffy."

Chapter Text

This was degrading. At first Sirius thought he'd come up with a brilliant idea, and the idea was that in order to avoid being captured or seen, he would only leave Grimmauld Place during the late hours of the evening after midnight, and would remain in his animal form while he was out. It started out as a good idea. But this? This was just too much.

The members of the Order had agreed on allowing Sirius out after midnight in his animal form because they knew the poor man would soon go stir crazy if he didn't get outside to get some fresh air. He didn't escape Azkaban just to stay locked up in his parents' house listening to his mother's portrait screaming all day long. That alone was enough to drive someone mad. But he would only be allowed out on one condition, and that was that he had to have someone from the Order with him at all times while he was out and he had to behave like an actual dog.

Sirius would have to make it look convincing so that if anyone saw him they would truly believe he was a dog and not a wizard in disguise.

"And how am I supposed to do that?" Sirius asked. "Lift my leg and pee on a bush?"

It was then that Snape came forward, a sly smirk on his face, and Sirius Black knew he was screwed.

And so here he was. It was well after midnight, almost one in the morning, and Severus had him on a leash taking him for a walk around the neighborhood.

Severus was enjoying himself immensely and Sirius knew it. This was humiliating. And not only that but his collar was too tight. A collar which was silver in color and set with green rhinestones.

All of this infuriated Sirius to no end, and he began to think of ways he could make this outing a miserable experience for Severus, so much so that Snape would never volunteer to take him for a walk again.

His thoughts drifted back to how Minerva had told him he'd have to behave like a dog during his trips out. What sort of dog behavior would thoroughly annoy Severus?

He could try humping Snape's leg, but the thought disgusted him to the point of making him want to vomit. He could try peeing on Snape's shoes or leg, but that didn't seem like enough. Plus he doubted that he could get Severus to hold still long enough to do his business. And urinating on the Potions Master was probably the fastest way to get himself neutered.

Sirius looked around, trying to find something that would aid him in his quest to annoy Severus. It was then that he spied a cat across the road.

Perfect. This was exactly what he needed. What could be more canine than chasing a cat?

Sirius started barking. He tugged on his leash and nearly yanked Snape off his feet as he began to run. Severus had no choice but to run with Sirius practically pulling him along, otherwise he would have fallen flat on his face on the sidewalk.

The cat started and shot off into the night with Sirius Black in hot pursuit. He chased the cat though the neighbors' yard, weaving around a set of lawn furniture which Severus crashed right though, getting his foot stuck through the seat of a chair.

He chased the cat through a second yard where there was a large swimming pool. The cat went around the pool but Sirius dove right in, taking Severus along with him and nearly drowning the Potions Master in the process as he doggy paddled across the water.

When he got out of the pool Sirius didn't even bother giving Snape a chance to catch his breath before darting off across the yard as the cat disappeared into the next door neighbor's hedge.

Gasping and sputtering after almost being drowned in the pool, Severus was hauled along as Sirius dove into the hedge after the cat. Branches broke and leaves went flying in every direction as Sirius crashed through the hedge, still pulling Severus along behind him.

Sirius finally came to a stop in the middle of someone's yard as the cat ran and leapt into the arms of an old lady who was standing in her nightgown in the doorway of her house.

"Why Severus," the old woman said with a smile. "Thank you so much. It seems as though your dog has brought Mr. Paws home."

Severus groaned and looked up from where he lay sprawled out on in the grass, his clothes soaking wet, his foot wearing the lawn chair like a Christmas ornament, with leaves and twigs stuck in his hair. There before him was Mrs. Figg. One of her cats had gotten out and Sirius had chased it back home.

"You're welcome?" It came out sounding more like a question when Severus said this, his senses dazed and his mind reeling from being drug around during Sirius' mad dash through the neighborhood.

Mrs. Figg thanked Severus again then bid him goodnight and took her cat back in the house.

Sirius trotted over to Severus, sat down with his large front paws on Severus' chest and happily licked the Potions Master's face.

"Get away from me!" Snape shouted, trying in vain to push the dog off him. "Get away from me, you filthy mutt!"

But Sirius kept right on licking him.

Needless to say this would be the last time Severus attempted to take Sirius for a walk. From now on if Sirius Black wanted to go out he'd have to find someone else who was willing to walk him.

Chapter Text

When he entered Malfoy manor that morning, Scabior had no idea what he was walking into. He'd only gone over there because he had important matters he wished to discuss with the blond aristocrat. He didn't know that he'd be risking his own life just by walking into the kitchen.

He heard her before he saw her. It wasn't hard to miss the clanging of metal pots and pans as they spilled from cupboards onto the floor. And as he drew closer to the kitchen and cautiously pushed open the door, Scabior could hear her muttering frantically in a half-panicked voice.

"Where is it? Where is it? It has to be here somewhere. Where the hell could it be?"

Scabior stood back, half in the doorway as he watched Bellatrix pacing back and forth like a caged lion.

Her hands curling into fists at her sides, she threw her head back and positively howled, "I must have it!" She then seized a plate from a pile of dishes on the counter, and forcefully hurled it against the wall where it shattered into several splintered fragments on the floor.

Already the kitchen had been reduced to a complete disaster area. Broken bottles of ketchup and various marinade sauces littered the floor, their contents slowly oozing down the wall. Cereal boxes had been torn open and crushed, and the remains of squashed and splattered fruits covered almost every square inch of the kitchen, including the ceiling.

Scabior saw this as a dangerous sign that the deranged witch was in no mood to be dealt with at the present time. He started to back out of the kitchen, hoping she wouldn't notice him. But he had barely made it two feet out into the hall before Bellatrix saw him in the doorway.

"Scabior!" Bellatrix shouted from across the kitchen.

The head Snatcher winced as the sound of her obnoxious voice reached his ears.

"Get in here!" she demanded.

He walked into the kitchen, stepping over and maneuvering around broken dishes and crushed cereal boxes. He made sure to keep a safe distance, standing about ten feet away from her next to a pile of half melted petal pots.

Even at a distance he could tell that something was wrong. A muscle in the corner of her left eye was twitching. Her hands were shaking and she was unable to stand still. She continually paced back and forth, heedless of the mess on the floor as she stepped on and flattened a tomato.

"I need coffee, Scabior," she said. "Rodolphus has decided that I'm not to have anymore coffee. He took all of the coffee out of the house last night while I was asleep, and replaced it with this coffee substitute made from lima beans."

She said all of this rather quickly, wringing her hands as she continued to pace the floor.

"He thinks I drink too much coffee," she said.

"'Ow much are you drinking?" Scabior asked.

"Oh, not much. Only one or two dozen cups a day."

"Tha explains a lot..."

"Scabior!" she snapped, finally coming to a stop as she turned to face him. "My whole body is in utter turmoil without my coffee. There's an all out war raging inside of me and I'm losing!"

Her voice rose in volume until she was screaming the last couple of words at him.

Scabior took several steps back towards the counter. "Well wha do you want me to do about it? I can't just magic coffee out of thin air or pull it out of my arse for you."

"Find me some coffee!" she barked at him. "I came over here because I thought Lucius might have some, but I can't find where he's hidden it. Probably in cahoots with my husband. They're probably secretly plotting against me..."

"Look, Bella, I know where the coffee is. But if your 'usband says you aren't to 'ave any, then I think - " Scabior paused mid sentence, ducking as she threw a plate at him.

"Get me my fucking coffee!" she screeched. "Now!"

The head Snatcher had little choice but to do as she said. He practically ran to where Lucius kept the coffee, feeling very much like a house elf as he began serving her cup after cup of the delicious beverage that she loved.

As you can imagine this turned out to be a very bad idea. Because somewhere around her eleventh cup of coffee Bellatrix started to lose it.

This wasn't her usual level of insanity. This was something her sisters liked to affectionately refer to as "def con one empty the missle silo." Everyone in Bella's family knew that when she reached this stage there was nothing left to do but run. She'd slipped over the threshold into loony tune zombie mode, unleashing all her madness on the unfortunate Snatcher.

Scabior was forced to run as Bellatrix launched herself across the kitchen table, yelling and babbling insane nonsense about wanting to ride him like a horse.

"You're a horsey!" she cried, an unusual amount of excitement and cheer lacing her tone as she whooped and hollared like a five year old at an amusement park. "I'm a cowgirl and here's my horse!"

Scabior took one look at her as she charged across the table like a rabid squirrel on crack and bolted from the room. He ran down the hall and around the corner, with Bellatrix's wild, cackling laughter floating up behind him as she drew closer to catching up to him.

She was an incredibly fast woman. Scabior had never seen anyone other than Greyback who could outrun him. Though he wondered briefly if perhaps it was all the caffeine that had given her a sudden speed boost.

She caught up to him just as he was rounding the corner and heading down a flight of stairs. Midway down the stairs she grabbed him by his scarf that was trailing out behind him as he ran, yanking him off his feet and nearly strangling him in the process as he felt the plaid material tighten around his neck.

His feet went flying out from under him as he crashed down onto his back, knocking the wind out of his lungs. Seconds later he was rolling, tumbling head over heels down the stairs, taking Bellatrix along with him.

Bellatrix wasn't phased by Scabior pulling her down the stairs with him. She gripped the end of his scarf tightly in her fist and let out a loud "Whhheeeeee!" as they began their descent down the stairs.

When they came to a halt at the bottom of the stairs, Scabior was bruised, battered and bleeding from a broken nose. If Bellatrix had been injured from the fall she didn't show any sign of it. She was too busy laughing as she rolled over onto the carpeted floor.

Scabior groaned and started to crawl across the carpet, his body aching from head to toe. He had to get away from her. He had to escape. But he hurt so bad he could hardly move.

Before he could get very far, he felt his head and neck snap back as Bellatrix tugged on his scarf, dragging him across the floor.

"Get up!" she shouted. "Get up, you stupid horse!"

She kicked him over onto his stomach and sat down on his back.

"Giddy up, horsey!"

Bellatrix slapped him on the butt with the flat of her hand, bursting into song as she began to belt out the opening theme from Rawhide.

When Scabior finally gave up and deflated under her like a punctured pool toy, she tugged on the ends of his scarf like the reins of a horse, slapping his butt even harder and yelling, "Giddy up, horsey! Giddy up!"

By now Scabior was turning blue from lack of oxygen. The edges of his vision were darkening and he was getting light headed. In a last ditch effort to prevent himself from passing out, he gathered the last of his strength and started kicking and bucking as he tried to throw her off him.

This delighted Bellatrix to no end. "Yeehaaww!" she hollared as she rode Scabior around the manor. "Get along little doggy!"

Scabior slipped and fell over onto his side, which was enough to unseat Bellatrix and send her sprawling on the floor. He stumbled and fell twice as he attempted to stand, finally managing to get to his feet and run from the room.

Lucius Malfoy was just returning home, and was walking down the gravel path leading towards his house when Scabior shot out the front door and ran past him.

The blond aristocrat stopped, only a few yards from his front door and turned around. "Scabior, where are you going? What's going on?" he called out at Scabior's retreating form.

"It's Bella!" Scabior yelled, not pausing in his run as he pelted across the yard. "Run for your life! She's 'ad too much coffee an she's gonna blow!"

As soon as he finished his sentence, the ground began to tremble and quake. Lucius looked on in horror, his mouth open and his eyes wide with fright. Bellatrix was screaming, the shrill screech of her voice rising in volume like it was being amplified by a sonorus charm.

Lucius backed away from the front door of his house. He started to run. And then a massive explosion shook the earth as the west wing of Lucius' manor erupted in flames.

Sure enough Bella had exploded. Not literally, though. She just fired off a curse which took out a portion of Lucius' house.

And that is why you must never give Bellatrix coffee.

Chapter Text

As she sat alone in her prison cell, Bellatrix gradually began losing what little sanity she had left.

She hated being alone. She despised the cold, damp cell she was forced to dwelll in. And most of all she hated the food they served in Azkaban, which consisted of some sort of unidentified, indigestible mush. This vile, viscous liquid was always lumpy and pale grey in color, served cold to the inmates every morning and evening. Bella hated it, and so she began thinking of a way to improve upon the meager rations she was given.

Now being the horriby filthy person that she is, Bellatrix suffered from a dreadful infestation of lice. One day she began picking the lice out of her hair and off her dirty arse, then fried it up using her magic and added the fried lice to the daily bowls of mush she received at mealtimes.

Bellatrix thought that the mush seasonsed with fried lice was delicious, a wonderful symphony of flavors that was simply divine. And thus Bellatrix's fried lice casserole was born.


Time passed. Bellatrix continued making fried lice casserole in Azkaban for many years, never tiring of the taste of her insect ridden cuisine. Then one day Bella was set free during a mass breakout of her fellow inmates from Azkaban. She was finally free to share her cooking with the world! The thought of it filled her with tremendous joy, and she threw back her head, cackling a shrill, wicked laugh. There was only one problem - who would she cook for now that she was free? Because who in their right mind would actually want to eat fried lice casserole?

The answer to that question was simple - Lord Voldemort. Obviously he wasn't in his right mind anymore than Bellatrix was. Killing hundreds of innocent people wasn't exactly the actions of a mentally sane individual. So without a doubt Voldemort was the one Bella would offer her casserole to.

Later that evening as the Dark Lord sat down for dinner, Bellatrix served him some of her fried lice casserole. Voldemort tasted it and made a face.

"It's alright," he said rather blandly. "But it needs gravy. Everything tastes better with gravy, you know."

So Bella returned to the kitchen and quickly whipped up a batch of gravy. She also added lots of flour to her casserole dish, thickening the rancid, syrupy concoction to a consistency similar to that of lumpy mashed potatos. She then removed her panties and shook the remaining lice out of them into the frying pan, adding some herbs and freshly ground pepper to the mixture, along with a single large cockroach that had chosen that particular moment to crawl out from behind her left ear, and fried it all up in the pan.

When she had finished frying up her seasoned lice, she sprinkled the insects over the mashed potato casserole and gravy then added a sprig of fresh parsley to the side as garnish. There, a meal fit for a king.

Bellatrix was so proud of herself for making such a wonderful dinner for her beloved master. She was just about to return to the dining room with his dinner when Peter Pettigrew scampered into the kitchen.

Peter, who had changed into his rat form, liked to visit Bellatrix's kitchen with his rat friends due to the large amount of filth and decaying good scraps often found in the corners of the kitchen cupboards, on the walls and on the floor. He scurried up to Bellatrix and began lapping up drops of gravy that had spilled onto the floor.

"Get out of here, Wormtail!" Bella screeched, aiming a kick at the hungry rodent.

This made Pettigrew angry. He didn't like it when someone interrupted his evening meal and tried to forcefully eject him from the kitchen. He let out a series of loud squeaks, signalling the other rats to attack.

Bella looked up and her eyes widened with horror as hundreds of rats came running out from under loose floor boards and holes in the walls. They surrounded her, biting at her ankles and climbing up her legs. Bellatrix screamed and tried to fight them off, but her efforts were in vain as the massive swarm of rats overwhelmed her. Soon they were carrying her out of the kitchen door into the backyard as she continued to yell and struggle against the seething mass of vermin.

As the rats proceeded to bite and tear bits of flesh from Bella's body, Narcissa heard her sister's agonized cries and went running through the house towards the kitchen. She flung open the kitchen door and saw Scabior standing at the counter by the sink making himself a peanutbutter and grape jelly sandwich, completely ignoring the screams coming from the backyard.

Narcissa opened the back door and saw a mountain of rats swarming all over her sister. There were so many rats cover Bellatrix's body that only the tips of her fingers and one of her legs was visible.

"Scabior!" Narcissa cried, seizing hold of the Snatcher by his jacket. "Bella's being eaten alive by rats!"

Scabior looked at her and calmly took a bit of his sandwich. "So?"

"So we have to help her!"

"Yeah, good luck with tha," said Scabior around a mouthful of sandwich. He then turned around and walked out of the kitchen and down the hall.

"Dobby!" Narcissa called out.

The small house elf magically appeared out of thin air in front of her. "Yes, mistress?" he squeaked in his high, thin voice. "How may Dobby be of service to you?"

"We have to save my sister," Narcissa quickly replied, one foot already out the back door, her wand drawn. "The rats are after her again."

Dobby summoned a pan from out of the kitchen drawer, and wielding the large frying pan like a club, he ran out the back door behind Narcissa, ready to assist her in freeing her sister from the rats.


Several nights later, Severus Snape found himself staring death in the face as he backed up against the opaque window of the boathouse, Voldemort's massive snake coiled on the floor before him. He knew there was no way out. The Dark Lord wanted the full power of the Elder wand and was prepared to order his snake to deliver the final blow.

"Nagini," hissed Voldemort. "Kill!"

But the snake didn't move.

"Nagini!" barked the Dark Lord. "Did you not hear me? I am giving you an order!"

Severus blinked and gazed down at the snake. He noticed that she appeared rather bloated and sluggish. Was something wrong with her?

The large snake opened her mouth and burped up one of Bellatrix's shoes. Nagini had eaten Bella and was too full and sick from overeating to move. Infact, Bella was such a horribly filthy, insect ridden tramp that her entire body was like a toxic waste dump, and Nagini was being slowly poisoned by her noxious meal. In a few more minutes Nagini would be dead.

It didn't take long for Voldemort to realize that something was seriously wrong with Nagini. She was his horcux, and as she began to die he could sense another fragment of his already fragile and splinterd soul beginning to disintegrate.

Seeing his change, Severus decided to flee the scene while his master panicked over what to do about his dying snake.

Once outside and far away from the boathouse, Severus met up with Scabior.

"Scabior," said Severus. "Bellatrix is -"

"Dead, I know," Scabior interrupted, a wide grin on his face. "I 'eard from Lucius tha she took Nagini in 'er kitchen in 'opes tha she'd kill an eat the rats in there. But apparently Nagini was 'ungry for something more than rodents an ate Bella instead."

Severus glanced back over his shoulder at the fighting and destruction still going on back at Hogwarts. "What do you think, Scabior? Should we continue on our way and leave all this behind?"

Scabior nodded in agreement. "Yes, I think tha would be a lovely idea, Severus. Let those arse'oles fight things out amonst themselves. I quit."

"As do I."

Chapter Text

It began shortly before the first task, when Harry and Ron had their fight and weren't speaking to each other. The former best friends kept their distance from each other, refusing even to sit at the same table during meals.

When Cedric Diggory saw what was happening, he decided to step in and see if he could help repair their broken friendship. But instead of things getting better, Harry forged a new friendship with Cedric, and before long they were working together to help each other with the tasks they were assigned for the tournament.

Cedric came to Harry one night, a half eaten chocolate frog in his hand as he approached the boy in the corridor.

"Harry," he said, a simpering smile on his face, his eyes bloodshot. He leaned in close and said in a loud whisper, "I owe you one, man, for helping me with that dragon. So like, you know those eggs we got? Does yours, like, freak out and start wailing the minute you open it?"

"Yes," said Harry, taking a step back as an odd aroma wafted from the older boy's clothes. "Why? Is there something I should know about it?"

Cedric stuffed the rest of his chocolate frog in his mouth. "Uh-huh." He nodded, then finished chewing and swallowed. "Well, take a bath, m'kay?"

"What?" Harry looked confused.

"Yeah, man. Take a looooong bath. And dunk your egg in the water. It'll like, bring you good luck, you know?"

Harry stared at him. He'd seen Cedric like this before, but didn't know what to make of it. In fact, now that he thought about it, most of the students from Hufflepuff were like this.

"Tell you what," Cedric said, "use the prefects' bathroom. I think it's the fourth door to the left of that statue of the bewildered old dude on the fifth floor. Password's 'crescent fresh.' And if a hot bath doesn't mellow you out, try this."

He handed Harry a baggie of dried herbs. "Gotta go, man." And with that he turned and headed back to the kitchens.


The next morning Harry staggered into class, found his seat and plopped down in front of his cauldron. He gazed around the room in a daze, then frowned as he heard his stomach gurgle. He'd eaten more than usual at breakfast that morning, but he was still hungry. And when he checked his pockets for snacks, he found nothing but crumbs and empty wrappers in his pockets.

"Dammit," he cursed under his breath as he dug through his pockets in search of something to eat.

Professor Snape approached the desk, stopping in front of Harry as the boy turned out his pockets, littering the floor with wrappers and crumbs in the process. "Is there a problem, Mr. Potter?"

Harry looked up at the sallow skinned man looming over him. "No. Of course not, sir."

Severus raised an eyebrow, giving him the look that clearly said he knew Harry was lying. He took a seat at his desk and was just about to begin the lesson when suddenly -

"Professor, I'll have a cheeseburger and some fries, please."

Everyone in the room turned and looked at Harry, who had raised his hand as he placed an order for some food.

Severus narrowed his eyes as he glared at him. "This is a potions lesson."

"So?" Harry didn't care where he was or what was going on. All he knew was that he had a serious case of the munchies and wanted something to eat.

Chapter Text

It was bound to happen eventually. Zahara was getting older, and Scabior couldn't keep his niece from exploring the house and getting into everything. Keeping an eye on her was easier when she was little. But now that she was a teenager she was becoming more curious and independent, nosing through the books on the shelf to see what kind of stories Violet wrote.

When she was little, Scabior used to read to her before she went to bed. Sometimes she'd ask about Violet's books, pointing at them and asking Scabior to read them to her. Scabior would then glance at the bookshelf, hesitating before speaking as his eyes scanned the titles on the shelf.

"You like the looks of those, ay?" he said, thinking that maybe he could read something that wasn't about him. But if he read one book from Violet's personal library, pretty soon she'd want him to read more. And Scabior wasn't ready to deal with the consequences should she happen upon something she shouldn't be reading.

Zahara nodded, an innocent smile on her face as she looked up at him. She had no idea what was in those stories, and Scabior wanted to keep it that way.

"Look, sweet'eart," Scabior said, his tone gentle as he spoke to her. "There are some things in those books tha aren't meant for little children."

"Like what?" Zahara asked.

This was going to be harder than he thought.

Scabior sighed and looked back at his neice. "I'll explain it to you when you're older."

That seemed like a good excuse. Wait until she was older, and by then she'd lose interest in the books and forget all about them. Or at least he hoped she would. Now she was thirteen, and came running up to him one morning with a book in her hands.

"Uncle Scabior! Look what I found!"

Scabior took one look at the book's title and nearly fainted. Of all the books she could have chosen from the shelf, she just had to choose Marital Bliss.

Sanderson was standing nearby, and when he heard Zahara say, "Uncle Scabior, what's this about you and chocolate doughnuts?", he laughed so hard that he slid down the wall to sit on the floor, then proceeded to roll on the floor laughing.

"No!" Scabior exclaimed, snatching the book out of her hands. "No no no no no! Don't read tha! You're too young to be reading stories like tha anyway."

"Uncle Scabior, can I give my boyfriend doughnuts when I start dating?" Zahara asked.

"No, you most certainly can not," Scabior snapped. She was his niece, and she was so young. He really didnt want to think of her like that. And he wasn't ready for her to start venturing out into the world of dating, especially not with a big box of chocolate doughnuts tucked her arm. "And no dating until you're fifty," he added, taking the book and walking out of the room. He had to find somewhere to hide Violet's books before she read anymore of them.

Chapter Text

Scabior wasn't really sure where he was when he stumbled out of the pub at one in the morning. He was so drunk he could barely see straight, and after a night of heavy drinking he really had to go the bathroom. He looked around for a secluded spot to relieve himself, then staggered off into an alley around the corner.

He stood in front of a row of trash cans, the garbage from a torn trash bag overflowing into the street. Scabior unbuttoned his fly, sighing with relief as his bladder began to empty. Moments later a brown tabby shot out from behind the trash cans, shaking its head and hissing at the drunk Snatcher. The cat was soaking wet, its fur dripping with urine as it ran down the alley and disappeared around the corner.

Meanwhile, Dumbledore stood on the street corner several blocks away, awaiting his friend's arrival. It wasn't like her to be late. He didn't really mind, though, and stood humming a tune as he gazed up at the starry skies above. He was always in such a cheerful mood that not even waiting for a late friend could spoil his mood.

And then she saw her, the shadowy figure of a cat running across the road to join him on the corner, the cat's body shifting and morphing into that of a old witch.

"Good evening, Minerva," said Dumbledore, smiling pleasantly at her. He then noticed a pungent aroma wafting from her hair and clothes. "Why Minerva, is that a new perfume you're wearing?"

"I don't want to talk about it, Albus," McGonagall muttered.

The old wizard put his hand in his pocket and brought out a handful of sweets. "Would you care for a lemon drop?"

"No, thank you," McGonagall replied. "I've had quite enough lemonade for one evening."

Chapter Text

Narcissa knew the stress was getting to him, and that Lucius had been drinking more often in an attempt to calm his nerves. But the glass off wine he had with dinner soon turned into three or four, and before long he was getting drunk during Death Eater meetings, which was quite a sight when he started laughing for no apparent reason and slid right out of his chair.

The worst was when Lucius entered the drawing room during one of the meetings, wearing his wife's black bra and an emerald green skirt that went past his knees. The smell of alcohol was so strong you could smell it on him a mile away.

Heads turned as Lucius entered the room, and Narcissa's mouth hit the floor in shock.

"Lucius!" she exclaimed. "Why are you wearing my clothes?" She then looked down and noticed that he was also wearing a pair of her high heels.

"You know what, Narcissa?" said Lucius, a simpering smile on his face as he fingered the lace on his wife's bra. "Ever since getting a bra with like five square inches of lace total on the whole thing, I feel infinitely smoother. I mean it's composed of more than five inches of lace. It is sufficient in size. It just has that much lace on it as a component."

Narcissa groaned, leaning forward in her seat with her head in her hands. Bellatrix snorted, Severus raised an eyebrow as he watched Lucius fondling the lace on the bra, and Yaxley almost dropped his wine glass.

"It's like...nice...classy flower...nice," Lucius continued, his speech slurred and his eyes half closed. He hiccupped and swayed, gripping the arm of the chair to keep from falling over.

Narcissa stood up and walked over to her husband, taking him by the arm as she led him out of the room, her sister laughing as she watched Lucius stumbling past in his wife's high heels.

"Perhaps I should consider clothing made from organic materials," Lucius muttered. "What do you think, dear? Maybe something like okra. Fried okra bra, okra chip bra, okra plant bra..."

"That's nice, dear," said Narcissa, patting her husband on the shoulder. "But right now I think you should go to bed and lay down for a while."

"I'm a classy flower."

"Yes, dear. I know."

Chapter Text

No one knew where the flamingo came from, or why it had decided to take up residence at Malfoy Manor. The only thing anyone knew for sure was that it was driving Narcissa mad. She couldn't walk outside without the pink flamingo dive bombing her head, swooping down and pecking at her face and shoulders. It chased her around the yard, nipping at her ankles, tugging on her dress and almost yanking her into the fountain in the front yard. But that wasn't the worst of it. The annoying bird also had a habit of mooning people.

At first she thought she was seeing things. Surely she hadn't just seen a flamingo with its butt pressed against the living room window. But when Narcissa turned around and glanced over her shoulder, there was the flamingo, standing with its backside against the window.

"How rude!" Narcissa huffed. "Lucius," she said, pointing at the flamingo. "Do you see that? What is wrong with that horrid bird?"

Was it her imagination, or did she see the faintest hint of a smile forming on her husband's lips?

Lucius chuckled, grinning as he looked at the pink flamingo. "I don't know, dear. But I'll see to it that the bird is removed from the property at once."

The blond aristocrat opened the front door and walked outside. He didn't know what his wife's problem was. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that the bird only mooned her, and had done so several times since it arrived a week ago. He wasn't bothered by the bird's rude display, but Narcissa was fed up with looking at flamingo butt every morning when she woke up.

He tried shooing the bird away from the window, but the flamingo turned its back to him, ruffling its tail feathers and shaking its rump in his face. It fanned its wings out at its sides, clicking its beak and dancing on the tips of its toes with its butt in the air.

"Alright, that's quite enough of that. Now will you please leave before my wife sees you tap dancing on the front lawn?"

The flamingo kept on dancing, brushing its tail feathers against his groin while nipping at his pants leg. This was too much, and Lucius swatted the bird on its backside and told it to leave. This made the flamingo angry, and it turned on him, squawking and flapping its wings.

Furious that he had turned down her advances, the flamingo charged at him, snapping its beak and chasing him through the yard. When Narcissa heard Lucius scream she ran outside to see what was wrong, and found her husband backed up against the water fountain. The flamingo flew at him, lunging at his chest and knocking him backwards into the fountain. There was a loud splash as the wizard hit the water, and when he looked up he saw a plump witch straddling him, her pink bow askew on her head and her hair dripping water into her face.

"Dolores!" Narcissa screeched. "What are you doing? Get off my husband! Get off!"

Narcissa drew her wand, firing a curse at Umbridge as the witch changed back into her animagus form and took to the skies, flying over the neatly manicured hedges and off into the woods.

When Umbridge discovered that Lucius was a peacock animagus, she decided to try inviting him over to her love nest. But no matter how many times she tried to win Lucius' affection, he kept rejecting her. And now that Narcissa was aware of her animagus form, there would be little chance of her getting close to Lucius again.

Chapter Text

It was just an ordinary night at Malfoy Manor. Lucius, Yaxley and Scabior were sitting at a table in the parlor playing cards. Lucius had won every game they'd played that evening, and it was starting to get on Scabior's nerves. He wondered if the pureblood was cheating, or had somehow charmed the deck of cards so that no one else could win.

He'd seen it before, wizards who rigged the game so that the cards would change if anyone other than the person who cast the spell touched them, resulting in jokers and ones while the caster got aces and kings. He'd even used the spell a few times himself. But he didn't think Lucius would stoop so low as to cheat.

He watched Lucius, keeping a close eye on him to see if he could catch him cheating. He didn't notice anything unusual, except for the fact that Lucius kept moving and shifting uncomfortably in his seat all evening. He acted like he had ants in his pants, and kept reaching back to scratch his behind.

Scabior wondered if Lucius had caught fleas from Greyback. He was sitting in the same chair the werewolf had occupied the previous evening. Perhaps some of Greyback's fleas had jumped off and landed on Lucius. Either that or the pureblood had a bad case of hemorrhoids.

And then it happened. Lucius let out a monstrous fart and several cards flew out from under his butt. To the casual observer it appeared as though he had shot half a deck of cards out his ass, when in reality he had been sitting on them and sneaking them out throughout the evening.

The smell that followed was horrendous. Yaxley went into a coughing fit, fanning the air with his hand in an attempt to disperse the stink.

Lucius' face blushed six shades of red. "Sorry about that. Ever since my house elf decided to take an early retirement, my wife has been doing all the cooking. She likes making bean and broccoli casserole. It tastes good, however my ass finds it to be quite disagreeable."

Scabior raised an eyebrow, looking down at the cards scattered across the floor. Yaxley kept coughing, his eyes watering from the stench. It was too much for him to stand, and he slid out of his chair and collapsed to the floor.

The Snatcher leaned over the unconscious Death Eater and flicked him on the nose, trying to see if he could elicit a response. "Yep, I'd say tha probably killed 'im."

"No, of course not," said Lucius. "Yaxley always was an overly dramatic sissy. Just ignore him and let's finish our game."

Chapter Text

It wasn't unusual for Bellatrix to want to experiment in the bedroom. She had plenty of "creative interests", as Voldemort called it. But she couldn't help it. She was just so happy and excited to have him all to herself that she wanted to try everything with him.

At first he was hesitant to join her in her adventurous activities, and was horrified when she brought him something long and green that was shaped like a serpent and covered in silver rhinestones.

"I'm supposed to put this where?!" he exclaimed.

Bellatrix giggled and grinned, then reached for a box on the nightstand. "If you're not comfortable with that, then perhaps we could try something else." She lifted the lid and inhaled the fresh scent of warm, delicious gooey doughnuts.

Voldemort wrinkled his nonexistent nose in disgust as she held up a doughnut. Upon closer inspection he discovered that the doughnut was covered in a layer of white frosting and rainbow colored sprinkles. "What are you going to do with that, Bella?" he asked, thinking that maybe she wanted to feed it to him.

"You'll see," she said, still giggling and grinning like a little schoolgirl.


It was still dark outside when he began to move, the sheets rustling against his pale form as he rolled over in bed. She was asleep beside him, with bits of frosting and sprinkles clinging to her long, dark curls. They'd made quite a mess last night, but it was worth it.

"Pastries," he muttered, wiping the leftover frosting off onto the silken sheets. "Who'd have thought."

He climbed out of bed, taking a moment to find his clothes, which were strewn across the floor and draped over the headboard. He failed to notice the frosting which had dried on the seat of his pants, forming a large, crusty stain on the dark fabric. There was also a layer of frosting stuck to the lower half of his robes, with rainbow sprinkles clinging to the thick, white material.

He made his way downstairs and entered the drawing room, where his Death Eaters had gathered for an important meeting. It was so early that a majority of his followers were half asleep, with Lucius dozing in his seat next to his snoring wife.

Yaxley blinked and sat up straight, coming awake as he spied the globs of frosting swishing to and fro with the movement of Voldemort's cloak. He elbowed Lucius in the side, causing the blond aristocrat to awake with a start.

Lucius snorted and looked around in confusion. Bellatrix was sitting at the opposite end of the table, picking star shaped sprinkles from her hair when Yaxley leaned sideways and whispered something in Lucius' ear. Meanwhile Nagini had slithered up to the table and was flicking her tongue at the gooey frosting on her master's robes.

Voldemort was oblivious to the situation, and continued talking like nothing was wrong as his Death Eaters stared at the unsightly blemish on his robes. All was calm until Scabior stumbled into the room. The drunk Snatcher took one look at the mess on Lord Voldemort's robes and hollered, "Whacho been sittin' on back there?"

"What?" The Dark Lord twisted in his seat, trying to get a good look at the back of his robes.

Bellatrix froze, her hand suspended in midair as she was picking the sprinkles out of her hair. Her eyes darted left and right as a chorus of subdued snickers and giggles arose from her fellow Death Eaters. She started sliding down in her seat, sinking beneath the table in slow motion until she was on the floor. She then started crawling on her hands and knees, trying to escape undetected before anyone noticed the sprinkles in her hair.

She succeeded in making it halfway across the room before Scabior burst out laughing. A snarl escaped her lips, her dark eyes blazing as she conjured a whip and seized him around the neck. Before he knew what was happening, Bellatrix had him on the floor and was dragging him out of the room.

"Be with you in a minute, darling," she said, flashing him her sweetest smile before ducking into the hallway.

"That woman," said Lucius, sighing and shaking his head. "Rather handy with the whip, now isn't she?"

"Yes," said Voldemort, a faint smile curling the corners of his lips. "Yes, she is."

Chapter Text

Narcissa's jaw dropped as she entered the drawing room. There were moving bundles of fur climbing up onto the table, walking along the mantle and swatting jingly balls as they ran across the floor. The living carpet of multicolored fur pooled at her sister's feet, surrounding her with cats that came in every shape and size.

Bellatrix lifted one of the cats onto her lap, grinning as she seized the cat's paw and waved it at her sister. "Look, Mustache, it's Cissy! Say hello, Mustache."

"Mustache?" Narcissa was confused. Why had her sister suddenly decided to surround herself with cats? Maybe it was caused by a hormone imbalance. When she was pregnant with Draco, Narcissa wanted nothing but pygmy puffs as far as the eye could see. And Lucius had bought them for her, which was nice because Draco had plenty of furry friends to play with when he was born.

She could still remember seeing Draco laugh as he lay on his back in his crib, playfully swatting the strands of pink and purple fluff that spilled over the railing on his crib. The pygmy puffs liked to sit on the railing, amusing him for hours on end by fluffing up their fur. One by one they exploded into colorful balls of fluff, only to deflate then explode all over again. And now it was Bellatrix's turn, only she had chosen cats instead of pygmy puffs.

Narcissa moved through the sea of fur, carefully navigating around the meowing, purring kitties. She pulled out a chair and sat down next to Bellatrix. She hadn't been sitting down for five seconds when a wide smile materialized out of thin air over her sister's right shoulder. That's it, just a smile. No face, eyes or body attached to the floating mouth that hovered in the air.

The younger of the two sister's gasped when she saw the floating mouth. The next thing she knew a pink and purple striped cat appeared on her sister's shoulder, its long, fluffy tail draped across Bellatrix's neck and shoulder like a feather boa. Of course, she had gotten a Cheshire cat. Why didn't she think of that in the first place? It wasn't unusual for people to have magical pets in the wizarding world. And although they were considered rare and extremely valuable, you still saw people with Cheshire cats every now and then.

"Well? What do you think?" asked Bellatrix. "They're lovely, aren't they? And this one." She reached up and scratched the Cheshire cat behind the ears. "He's simply gorgeous, Cissy. However the Dark Lord wasn't pleased when he materialized in our bed, where he perched himself atop the Dark Lord's head and started licking his bald scalp. But no matter. He'll just have to get used to them because I'm not getting rid of my pretty kitties."

She then lifted Mustache into her lap, brought him to her face and cooed," You're such a pretty kitty. Yes, you are. Who's mama's pretty kitty? It's you!" Bellatrix rubbed noses with the black and white cat, then sat him in her lap and resumed petting him. "This is Mustache, so named because he looks like he has a white mustache on his black face. And that's Cuddle and Sailor - "

"Sailor?" Narcissa cut her sister off in mid-sentence. "You named it Sailor?"

"Of course I did," Bellatrix huffed. "I'm Queen of the Cat Ladies. I can name my cats anything I want."

"Right." Narcissa looked down and saw a white cat wearing a blue and white striped sailor shirt. There was a sailor hat on the cat's head, which was held in place by an elastic strap under its chin.

It was strange seeing her sister surrounded by cats. But it could have been worse. She could have decided to adopt a bunch of fire breathing hellhounds.

Chapter Text

How does a bundt cake slide? Lucius asked himself that question a dozen times as he tried to figure out what happened to his birthday cake.

The upper half of the cake had shifted, making it look as though it was two halves stuck together and the top half was gradually moving away from the bottom. But it was one solid piece of cake, not two halves. So why did it look like it was trying to go in two different directions at once?

His wife had made the cake for his birthday, and to be honest Narcissa wasn't exactly a good cook. They used to have a house elf named Dobby who did all the cooking, but since his "untimely departure" as Lucius choose to call it, his wife had been doing all the cooking until they could find a new elf. He knew she meant well, and was trying her best to make a decent cake for his birthday, but this... There was no explanation for this bizarre creation.

He tried looking at the cake from a different angle. No, it still looked crooked. He glanced at the guests, making sure no one saw him eyeballing the cake, then squinted at it and tried looking at it from the side. He even tried standing on his tiptoes and peering straight down at the oddly shaped cake.

It was then that Delphini approached the table. The little girl was eating a chocolate cupcake, her dress stained with globs of frosting. She took one look at the lopsided cake and said, "It looks like someone sat on it and squashed it up their butt."

Lucius started, his mouth hanging open as he looked down at the three year old. Did she really just say what he thought she said?

"Is that why they call it a butt cake? 'Cause someone sat on it and left a butt mark?" She frowned, looking at the cake in disgust. "That's yucky. I don't wanna eat no stinky butt cake!" She took a bite out of her cupcake, then turned around and went back to her mother, who was on the opposite end of the room engaged in a conversation with her father.

Lucius sighed, watching as her mother yanked Delphini off to the side and dabbed at her dress with a napkin. "Thank you, Delphi. That was enlightening."

Chapter Text

Narcissa kept her head down, trying to avoid the curious glances of the people around her. She was sure they'd seen her coming a mile away, her chart filled to the brim with green bananas and packages of hotdog buns. Her sister had entered the weird cravings stage of her pregnancy, which meant that Narcissa had to make several trips to the store, sometimes during the middle of the night, in order to keep Bellatrix stocked up on her favorite foods.

At first it was simple, just coconut cake and sherbet ice cream. Narcissa could handle that. But then she started craving unripe bananas and hotdog buns at two in the morning. And so Narcissa hauled herself out of bed, got dressed, and left to go shopping.

Bellatrix looked up as her sister tumbled out of the fireplace, carrying several plastic bags full of groceries. She tossed her book on the coffee table and ran towards the mass of food, ignoring the grime and soot clinging to Narcissa's hair and clothes. "Get up!" she shouted. "Hurry before you bruise the bananas."

Narcissa groaned and rolled over onto her side. She crawled across the floor, clearing the way so her sister could reach the groceries.

Within seconds Bellatrix had torn open a bag of buns, plopped a banana down onto the center of the hotdog bun and started eating. Her hands were in constant motion, each one holding a banana on a bun as she stuffed her face like there was no tomorrow. It wasn't long until the floor was covered with banana peels and empty bun wrappers.

'You know what, Cissy," she said thoughtfully. "I've decided that I want to have a baby shower, and I want everyone that comes to bring me more bananas and buns. Lots of them."

The older of the two sisters giggled, grinning as she peeled another banana and stuffed it in a hotdog bun. "Want one, Cissy?" She offered the unusual treat to her sister, only to have Narcissa politely refuse the offer. "Suit yourself." Bellatrix shoved the banana and the bun halfway down her throat in one go, and suddenly her sister realized why the Dark Lord had taken a liking to her.

Chapter Text

There were days when even the most powerful witches and wizards fell ill. No one, not even Voldemort himself, was immune to the common cold. Which always lead to some interesting conversations between him and his darling Bellatrix when she was trying to take care of him.

"Bella," he said, his voice thick and nasally. "Bring me a tissue. My face is running."

"Yes, my lor - " She stopped in mid sentence, her hand hovering over the box of tissues. "What did you say?"

"You heard what I said. I said my face is running."

She blinked and looked at him in confusion. When she took a moment to think about it, she supposed it made sense. The man didn't have a nose so what else would he call it? But then she was curious, wondering how he blew his face when he had a cold. The thought made her laugh, as she imagined all the ways in which he might blow his face.

"What's so funny?" he grumbled.

"Nothing, my lord. Nothing at all." The crazed witch plucked a tissue from the box and handed it to him. 'Go on then,' she thought. 'Let's see you blow your face.'

Chapter Text

Most people were well aware of the fact that Scabior had a drinking problem. Some joked about it and said that he could make a ton of gold just by recycling the empty bottles in his bedroom.

"He'd be richer than Lucius!" said Greyback.

But even though he had no desire to recycle them, Greyback's joke about being richer than Lucius gave him an idea. It inspired him to take the bottles and recycle the caps. Not the glass, just the caps. Because Scabior was drunk and it sounded like a good idea to use them to make art.

Scabior gathered the bottle caps and placed them in a large sack. He then swung the sack over his shoulder Santa Claus style and hauled it into the kitchen. When he reached the kitchen he pulled out a chair and collapsed into his seat, his vision blurry as he sat there staring at the table. Something about the furniture seemed rather amusing. So amusing that he laughed until he slid out of his seat and onto the floor.

He was asleep five minutes later, using the bag of bottle caps as a pillow. He awoke to find himself staring at the underside of the table, and for a moment he forgot how he'd gotten there.

The head Snatcher crawled out from the under the table, the bag of bottle caps clinking and rustling as he slinked across the floor. Some of the bottle caps spilled out onto the floor when he opened the bag and began using a sticking charm to fix them to the rim of the table. It was quite a sight seeing the inebriated Snatcher waving his wand like he was conducting an orchestra, the bottle caps soaring through the air as they stuck themselves to the table. But it didn't stop there. Scabior wanted something more than just a little decoration on the side. He wanted to create a full blown masterpiece.

When he was finished making his "masterpiece", Scabior called Greyback over to look at his art.

The werewolf's mouth hit the floor when Scabior removed the table cloth, revealing the surface of the table that was studded with bottle caps.

Scabior hiccupped and leaned against the table, a simpering smile on his face as the werewolf examined the hundreds of bottle caps that covered the furniture. "So whaddaya think?" he slurred. "Looks pretty nice, doesn't it?" Scabior ran a callused palm over the surface of the table. "Yeah, I reckon I'll do the rest of the 'ouse next. Cover the chairs, the couch, the desk in my bedroom - "

"How long did it take you to do this?" asked Greyback.

"Wha? Oh, it was a weekend project." Scabior grinned, a lock of his red streaked hair falling into his face as he leaned forward and said, "Would you believe it took me tha long to collect enough bottle caps for this 'ere project?" He said this in a very serious tone, which wasn't what Greyback expected from someone who had been drinking all weekend.

Greyback blinked and stared at him in disbelief. "You do know how long a weekend is, right?"

Scabior nodded. "Yep." He swayed slightly and held up four fingers. "Two days. Count 'em. One. Two."

"And you did this in two days?"

"Tha's right."

The werewolf sighed heavily. He looked at the table and said, "We need to find you a better hobby."

Chapter Text

When Narcissa heard her husband complaining about the toilet not working, she expected to find a clog blocking the porcelain throne. What she didn't expect was the type of clog she found lurking in the murky waters of the upstairs toilet.

She cautiously approached the toilet, using the collar of her dress to cover her mouth and nose. The smell was so horrendous it was like something crawled into the poor pot and died. Surely her husband couldn't have done that. No, not Lucius Malfoy and his elegant little turds.

Narcissa lifted the lid, and was surprised to see something blue winking at her from the bottom of the toilet bowl. Unfortunately, there was also something more lurking in the upstairs toilet, something she really didn't need to see.

Within seconds the stench overwhelmed her and she quickly backed out of the room. She leaned against the wall, coughing and gagging as the remains of her breakfast climbed into the back of her throat.

"No," she said breathlessly. "No, I cannot allow myself to get sick. Not with that being the only bathroom on the second floor of the house."

She leaned sideways and peered into the bathroom, instantly regretting her decision as a second wave of stink assaulted her nostrils. There was nothing left but to call one of the house elves and let them deal with it.

The house elf arrived at the scene, ready to bravely face whatever it was that had clogged the Malfoys toilet. She held her breath, marched up to toilet, snapped her fingers, and summoned a filthy pair of blue socks from the toilet.

The socks hovered in the air over the toilet, dripping water and other foul substances onto the floor. Narcissa was just about to ask why there were socks in the toilet when Dobby appeared.

He collapsed in a fit of laughter and proceeded to roll across the floor. "Dobby put socks down the master's toilet!" he said, laughing and wiping tears of mirth from his eyes.

"But why, Dobby?" squeaked the female elf. "Why would Dobby be a bad, bad naughty elf and put socks down the master's toilet?"

Dobby sat up on the floor and boldy declared, "Because if Dobby cannot have socks then no one will!"

Chapter Text

Bellatrix stared at the horse that was pacing back and forth on the screen, her eyes wide with horror as she watched the little horse poops multiply. Severus could tell from the look on her face that she was about to explode. He watched her pause, just long enough to draw breath into her lungs, and quickly placed his hands over his ears as she began to scream.

"Is that a pile of horse shit?!" she exclaimed. "I'm a pureblood! Do they seriously expect purebloods to clean up horse manure? That's what house elves are for. It's their job to clean up all the poop!"

She was still ranting when a curious Dark Lord pushed her aside and sat down in front of the computer. Though by now the horse was dead, thanks to Bellatrix's less than perfect pet care skills.

Voldemort rubbed his temples and sighed. "Good grief, Bella. Not another one." He clicked the mouse and was rewarded with a brand new horse. "Are you sure that's horse poop?" he asked, leaning forward and squinting at the computer. "I thought it was food. But why does his health go down when the food appears?"

The horse walked back and forth, then dropped a load of pixelated dung on the floor.

"Oh wait, that's poop," said Voldemort. "Yes, that's why it always appears beneath the horse." He clicked on the pixelated dung pile and the horse's health bar refilled itself. He seemed to be enjoying this game. But there was something about this strange muggle video game that he didn't understand.

"Why would someone make a game that's all about cleaning up after horses?" he asked, his attention focused on the pooping horse.

"Perhaps it has something to do with the popularity of horses, my lord," said Severus, speaking in his usual monotone. "Most young females find them quite entertaining. And there are plenty of little girls who wish to acquire a pony for their birthday."

Voldemort suddenly let out a high pitched girly scream. "Ponies! Severus, I've always wanted a pony! From now on this my pony. My pretty widdle pony baby poo."

"Sir, it's a horse. It's not even real."

"Shut up, Severus! If I say it's a pony, then it's a pony, dammit! Now fetch me some pop tarts and a glass of strawberry milk. I'm going to be here a while. My pony needs me."

Chapter Text

It was the perfect setting for a romantic getaway, with sunlight shimmering on the surface of the water, the sand warm beneath her feet at Narcissa moved to sit beside her husband.

"Honey, look," said Narcissa, pointing towards a flamingo that was standing on one leg in the shade. "Someone brought one of those pretty, pink flamingos to decorate their space on the beach. It's adorable, isn't it, Lucius?"

The blond aristocrat tilted his chin towards his chest, looking over the top of his sunglasses at the flamingo. The bird shifted slightly, switched to standing on its other foot, lifted its tail and pooped.

It wasn't unusual to see inanimate objects move in the wizarding world. But to see one take a dump in the sand, well, that was quite unusual indeed. Perhaps someone had too much time on their hands and decided to create a defecating lawn ornament. 'Seems like the sort of thing Xenophilous Lovegood would do in his spare time,' thought Lucius, and he quickly scanned the beach for any sign of The Quibbler's publisher.

"Hmm, yes," Lucius muttered, his attention turning towards the book in his hands. "It's lovely, dear."

Narcissa sighed in contentment, leaned back and turned her gaze towards the sky. "Seeing that brings back memories, Lucius," she said, a smile blossoming on her face. "I haven't seen one of those since the day we were married. I remember Bellatrix was having a moment and decided it would be a good idea to give us lawn ornaments as a wedding present. Which would have been fine if she hadn't charmed it to sing It's Raining Men at all hours of the night." She placed her hand on Lucius' shoulder. "Do you feel like going for a walk on the beach? Maybe we could find a nice, secluded spot and watch the sunset together."

Lucius raised an eyebrow, a smile tugging on the corners of his lips as he noticed her sultry tone of voice. Perhaps she had something in mind, something more than watching the sunset after they found a suitable place to be alone. Either way it was enough to lure him away from his book, his fingers curling around hers as they walked along the water's edge.

The flamingo watched them leave, its eyes narrowing as it glared at Narcissa. The bird lowered its head, hissing and spreading its wings, then charged down the beach and snatched Lucius by the back of his shorts.

The bird tugged on his shorts, pulling them down and exposing his backside in front of everyone on the beach. When Narcissa saw what it was doing, she removed her sun hat and started swatting the flamingo. But the flamingo was persistent, its eyes wide as it enjoyed the view from behind.

"Dolores! I swear if that's you I'll curse you into a thousand pieces!" Narcissa screeched, punctuating each word with a blow from her sun hat.

The flamingo laughed, finally letting go and falling over backwards. Narcissa watched as it morphed into a plump witch who was wearing a pink bathing suit, and realized at once that it was in fact Dolores Umbridge.

Furious that Umbridge had taken a peek at her husband's backside, Narcissa chased the perverse animagus down the beach, screaming and firing hexes at hee. But Umbridge didn't seem to mind.

The last words she spoke before a stunning spell struck her in the back was, "Totally worth it." She then fell face first into the sand, lying there, unconscious, with a wide grin on her face.

Chapter Text

Severus swerved to avoid the annoying seer who, for the past twenty minutes, had been following him around the castle, rambling about this and that as well as her usual doomsday predictions.

"Sybill, please, I have business to attend to," he said, pushing past her and heading for the staircase. "Those assignments aren't going to grade themselves. And I have no desire to be awake at midnight, hunched over my desk with a quill in hand, when I could be relaxing with a good book and a cup of tea."

"Ah, but Severus wait!" Trelawney ran ahead of him, her arms out at her sides to block his path. "That's when it starts, Severus. Tonight, at the stroke of midnight, the alignment of Jupiter will shift slightly, placing it on the cusp of Scorpio for the next twenty-one days."

"Really?" drawled Severus, raising an eyebrow at her ridiculous statement. His patience was wearing thin, and although he was no seer, Severus had a feeling she was going to fall victim to a most unpleasant fate if she didn't remove herself from his presence.

"Yes, Severus." She paused to push her glasses up the bridge of her nose. "And that is of the utmost importance because it means you're headed into a wonderful, more content, fortunate year because lucky Jupiter is about to move into your sign. But today Jupiter is provoked by the electricity of Uranus! This means sudden good fortune might come your way, and that you should be receptive to whatever occurs."

His brain shut down somewhere during her long winded speech, tuning out her incessant noise as his gaze drifted towards the statue in the corner. All he heard was "provoked by the the electricity of Uranus" before his mind began to wander.

'That's probably what happened to make her hair frizzy,' he thought. 'She must have received an electric shock during her youth, which caused her hair to explode like an overinflated pygmy puff. That would also explain her lack of brain cells.'

"Severus, are you listening to me?" Trelawney took a step forward, her hands clasped in front of her with her many shawls trailing out behind her on the floor.

Severus frowned, his temper flaring once he realized she was still there. "Yes, the electricity of Uranus," he muttered. He then placed his hand down the back of his pants, scratching his backside through his underwear to generate static electricity. When he was sure he'd gathered enough energy, he removed his hand, tapped her on the tip of her nose and jolted her off her feet.

Trelawney was sent airborne, with sparks erupting like the Weasley twins' fireworks as she soared through the air. She struck the ground at the bottom of the staircase, her many shawls serving as a cushion to help break her fall.

A moment passed before she began to stir, her wide eyes peering out from beneath a mountain of fabric and strands of beads. She saw Severus standing on the stairs, grinning as he looked down at her.

"How's that for the electricity of Uranus?" he said with a smirk. He then turned and left her lying on the floor, his cloak billowing out behind him as he went.

Chapter Text

Of all the treats kept tucked away in Dumbledore's office, none was more mysterious than the delectable wonder known only as the "secret fruit". This fruit, which resembled a pomegranate in both taste and appearance, was rarely seen in the magical world, and caused an unusual affliction when eaten.

Once consumed, the fruit created an overwhelming desire to lick everyone and everything within a fifty mile radius. The person would also experience rapid growth in the area of their tongue, often causing it to grow more than eight inches in a matter of minutes. This condition was usually referred to as "caterpillar tongue", due to the unusual length and flexibility of the victim's tongue which could move and bend like an inchworm crawling across a bookshelf.

And why did Dumbledore have in his possession a hidden stash of cursed fruit? Well, let's just say there were times when he and Grindelwald enjoyed getting their magical freak on in a most wet and wild, tongue-filled licking extravaganza. It wasn't until Dumbledore had taken up residence in that great train station in the sky that Amycus Carrow, having nothing better to do now that Severus had become headmaster, decided to explore Severus' office while the headmaster was having dinner in the great hall.

Amycus located the stash of fruit in a compartment hidden behind Dumbledore's portrait, which gathered some amused snorts and giggles from the late headmaster. Obviously Dumbledore was not going to tell him what it was or what it did. He just sat there smiling serenely, a twinkle in his eye as Amycus devoured the first piece of perfectly preserved fruit.

It was so delicious, Amycus couldn't resist stuffing his face with Dumbledore's secret fruit. But when he went to lick the juice off his fingers, he discovered a most curious affliction had transformed his tongue into a long, wriggling appendage not unlike that of a four foot worm. And the colors! He was seeing spirals of glittering colors which, as the muggles say, was far out, dude.

He grasped his caterpillar tongue and stared at it for a good ten minutes, saliva trickling down his wrist and soaking his sleeve. And then it happened. He started licking the walls and furniture. He licked Dumbledore's portrait which caused the old man to break out in a fit of giggles. He licked each and every floorboard until he got splinters in his tongue, and that wasn't nice.

For a while he sat in the center of the room, trying to remember the incantation for vanishing splinters, when his sister walked in and saw him and his massive tongue.

He smiled when he saw her, and his tongue lifted off the floor and waved at her.


"Amycus Carrow, what on earth have you done?" she cried, her eyes widening in horror at the sight of his waving tongue.

"I got ouchies," he slurred, pointing at the splinters. "Any chance you could help?"

Now, despite being his older sibling, Alecto wasn't the type of person who was overly affectionate towards her little brother. They were Death Eaters for a reason, and so she stomped across the floor and seized his drippy tongue, examining it closely as she stretched it halfway across the room.

Amycus flapped and gurgled, waving his arms in an attempt to communicate his distress. He didn't like it when someone manhandled his precious tongue, although he rather enjoyed the fact that her fingers tasted like cheese. It made him wonder what other yummy taste sensations he might discover if he tried licking different parts of her anatomy. And while she was deciding on what to do about her brother's tongue and the splinters that adorned its surface, the last three feet of Amycus' tongue slithered across the floor and dipped into her sock.

"Mmmm, feet," he burbled, savoring the unique flavor that was his sister's foot.

Alecto shrieked and let go of his tongue, which then hit the floor like a waterlogged biscuit. His tongue was curling around her ankle when she leapt up and immediately ran from the room, leaving him to sort things out on his own.

By then the curse had started to wear off, his tongue visibly shrinking until it returned to normal size. But this wasn't the end of Amycus' tongue adventures. Because as soon as he finished vanishing the splinters in his tongue, he scooped up an armful of fruit and ran off with it, thinking it might be fun to save some of the delicious fruit for later.

Chapter Text

It was that time of year again, the winter snows glistening in a myriad of colors as the sun rose above the treetops. The Christmas trees in the Great Hall had been decorations with ribbons and tinsel, students had gone home to visit their families during the holidays, and Severus was alone and miserable.

The cold he felt seeping into the wet, dungeon walls was worse than usual this evening, thanks to the dementors Dumbledore had ordered to guard the castle. But even this wasn't much of a bother, not when he was on his third glass of wine and starting to get a bit tipsy.

A sigh fell from his lips, his gaze lingering on the heart shaped locket in his hand. There was a photograph of Lily inside the locket, her smiling face greeting him as he opened the locket. But it wasn't enough. It was never enough when the trembling hand that grasped the bottle longed to feel the warmth of her skin beneath his fingers.

"Perhaps I've been wrong," he slurred, his vision blurring slightly. "There is no sense in reaching for affection when the warmth I desire has long since faded from this world. I think..." He paused, his head tilting towards the desk as he slumped forward in his seat. A second passed before he awoke with a start, lifting his head and looking around in a daze. "I think it would be better to embrace the cold, to sink so deeply that I'm numbed by its touch, unable to feel such emotions."

His statement drew the attention of a lonely figure passing by the door, her hooded cloak rippling in the night air as she turned his way. She glided gracefully down the hall, swinging her hips and whistling a tune that sounded halfway between a death rattle and a set of broken wind chimes.

Severus looked up when the door to his private quarters was thrown open, seeing the world's most delicate and decidedly feminine dementor hovering at the top of the stairs. His jaw dropped when she made a motion with her rotting hand, flicking back her nonexistent hair.

"Excuse me," she purred, her voice grating in her throat. "I couldn't help overhearing your conversation with the night..." She considered him for a moment, her finger twisting around the frayed edges of her hood. "Dementors can suck more than souls, you know," she continued, giving him her most seductive smile. "If you wish to embrace the cold... If you truly wish to let it numb your very heart and soul, then perhaps I can be of assistance."

The dark man swallowed hard, nodding drunkenly and allowing the dementor into his room. He would lose himself in her cold embrace, forgetting his troubles as she thrilled him with her icy pleasures.

Chapter Text

It began as a simple request.

"Find the child, Credence. Find the child and we'll all be free."

He didn't know how it led to this madness and perversion. And all because of the necklace Graves had given him. A necklace which, unbeknownst to Credence, also functioned as a time turner.

Graves instructed him to turn it seven times, and when Credence's fingers found the circle at the center of the pendant, he discovered that it would spin when given a gentle nudge. Credence wasn't sure why Graves told him to do this, and he didn't like the looks of that hungry, almost predatory smile that spread across Graves' face as he watched him examine the pendant. But this man always seemed to have his best interests at heart, and so he turned the circular pendant seven times before the time turner transported him to place seventy years in the future.

The building he'd entered, with its polished floors, decorative banner and wide buffet table resembled the meeting at city hall that Credence had interrupted when his Obscurus attacked Senator Shaw. The only difference was that instead of a room full of No-Majs, Credence now stood in the middle of an enchanted gathering filled with witches and wizards that had come together for a very special occasion.

Credence blinked and looked around in confusion, his eyes flitting left and right, trying to take in everything at once. Looking up, he noticed a banner on the wall over the buffet table that was emblazoned with the words "Lestrange Family Reunion".

The next thing he noticed was the variety of delicious food on the table in front of him. Most of it looked rather appealing, such as chocolate mousse, a pyramid made from cheese cubes, and something which he assumed was caviar. His stomach produced an audible growl and, looking around to see if anyone had noticed him yet, Credence reached towards the mound of cheese, only to stop midway when he saw a silver bucket that had been placed at the center of the table.

The bucket was overflowing with ice, as well as a variety of popsicles that came in every color of the rainbow. A sign on the table proudly declared that these were "Rabastan's World Famous Popsicles". Credence thought that sounded pretty good and considered trying one. That is until he took a closer look and discovered that each of the popsicles had been made to resemble a certain part of the male anatomy.

A flush of color rose in Credence's cheeks as he hurriedly backed away from the obscene centerpiece. He stumbled backwards in his haste, eager to leave the buffet table behind, and felt something cold and wet splashing onto his shoes and soaking into his pants.

"Do you mind?" a voice drawled beside him. "I'm trying to do my turtle meditation."

Credence's gaze traveled downwards, dreading the horrors that awaited him in this magical madhouse.

There was Bellatrix, her lean figure curled in a ball that had been submerged in eight inches of water. Her wild hair fanned out in disarray, floating on the liquid contained within the kiddy pool, with only the faintest hint of a nose and eyebrows visible beneath the mass of raven colored locks.

She shot him a murderous look from her kiddy pool, a look which would have sent most people fleeing for their lives. But all Credence could do was stare at her, his mouth opening silently, struggling to speak. Seeing her had driven all forms of coherent thought from his mind, and he started to shake, a muscle twitching over his left eye as she continued to glare at him.

His instincts told him to run, to leave this place and its strange occupants before Bellatrix stood on her head and started doing some kind of bizarre terrapin tai chi. It wasn't until he heard a desperate sobbing from across the room that his senses returned with a jolt, a series of muttered apologies falling from his lips as he leapt out of the water.

He turned, stumbled once more and nearly knocked over a vase of flowers. Where on earth was that wretched moaning coming from? And why were they so upset? Was it because they were out of cheese cubes? Or did someone want to play in Bella's kiddy pool but she refused to let them take a turn? He supposed anything was possible in a place like this.

The answer came when he looked towards the doorway and saw Rodolphus sitting on the floor, his arms around Percival Graves' legs like a weeping two year old.

"Please," Rodolphus sobbed into the fabric of Graves' pants leg. He lifted a trembling hand, pawing at the buttons on the man's shirt. "Please, I'm so lonely. Bellatrix won't even speak to me anymore. She... She..." He broke off in midsentence, gasping and hiccuping. "She makes me sleep on the doormat like an animal!" he wailed, pausing to blow his nose on Graves' pants.

Graves sent the Death Eater sprawling with a swift kick to the chest. "Credence," he said, grinning and summoning a popsicle with a wave of his hand. The dark man arched an eyebrow, placing the popsicle between his lips and sucking lightly. "Welcome home," he murmured, his voice no more than a seductive purr. "Why not have some fun while you're here?"

"Credence!" a young lady chirped, and when Credence turned around he saw Leta Lestrange sitting in a chair by the fireplace, surrounded by a pack of jarveys that were clambering over her to get at the cheese on the buffet table. "It's so good to see you!" she said, ignoring the jarvey whose tail had wrapped around her face, making it look as though she'd grown a mustache.

"I like pooping cows!" shrieked one of the jarveys, its lips drawn back in a fierce snarl. "Your mother was a hamster and your father smelt of elderberries! I fart in your general direction!" And with that the overgrown ferret lifted its tail and released a noxious cloud of gas. Leta responded by slapping it on the behind, which caused the jarvey to leap up, laughing and squealing in amusement, before falling from her shoulder and landing in a bowl of potato chips.

By now Credence had had his fill of the madness that surrounded him. He felt certain he didn't belong here, and that if he stayed any longer he was either going to scream or explode. And the last time he exploded it had cost him a perfectly good pair of pants. So it was best to leave now before things got out of hand.

He moved towards the doorway, hoping he could sidestep Graves and make a run for it before the perverse wizard caught him trying to flee the building. It was at that moment when a young Albus Dumbledore kicked the door down and barged into the room.

The professor marched across the room and seized Graves by the ear, twisting his earlobe as though he were a misbehaving child. "Gellert!" he roared, causing the wizard to cringe at the sound of his voice. "I can't leave you alone for five minutes without you running off and causing some sort of mischief. And now this." He motioned with his free hand towards Credence. "Trying to pick up little boys," he spat, a hint of jealousy in his tone.

"Um, excuse me, sir," Credence mumbled, his voice lost amongst the screeching jarveys. "I'm not a boy. I'm twenty-two."

"You don't satisfy me anymore!" Graves shouted, his disguise melting away to reveal a white haired wizard with a thin mustache. "And what are you doing if not chasing after the students in your class?" He glared at Dumbledore, his eyes burning with flames of betrayal. "I've seen the way you look at them, Albus. And all because they can bake a better batch of cupcakes than I can."

"Cupcakes?" squeaked Credence, the tremors increasing until all at once the frayed strings that had been holding together his sanity snapped.

'Of course,' he thought, a trickle of saliva running from the corner of his mouth as he stared vacantly at the wall. 'This is my family. I belong here...with them.'

Credence walked towards the buffet table, past Rabastan who'd been watching Grindelwald's performance with one hand down his pants, and plopped down in an oversized tub of Cool Whip. He then began ladling fruit punch over his head, not knowing that his real family was closer than he thought.

Chapter Text

"We should get married!" Alecto said, joyfully tossing a handful of rice into the air. "And once we're married, people will come from miles around, bringing loads of rice to celebrate."

Her brother winced as he was hit with several grains of uncooked rice, then slowly turned his head, gazing at her with disbelief etched into the lines on his face.

"Just think about it," she continued, grinning and leaning across the table until she was barely a foot from his face. "We could have brown rice, extra fancy calrose rice, komachi short grain rice, silver pearl rice, organic harvest medley - "

"No, this is ridiculous," Amycus insisted, cutting her off in midsentence. "First of all, you really don't want to get involved with a Dementor. They're such cold, emotionless beings. And do you truly desire a relationship with one of those things, " he paused, wrinkling his nose in disgust, "or are you only in it for the rice?"

Alecto gaped at him, tears pricking the corners of her eyes. "You're never supportive of me and my decisions!" she wailed, standing up suddenly and thrusting her chair out behind her. "I love him and my rice. And if we want to live together in our little rice filled cottage by the sea, then we will!"

She fled the room in tears, leaving behind a soggy trail of long grain rice. When she reached the top of the astronomy tower, she spied her beloved drifting lazily on the warm summer breeze.

"There you are!" Alecto practically flung herself at the floating specter, ignoring the chill that passed between them when she grasped its ragged cloak. "My dearest Dementor," she murmured, sniffling and sobbing. "My brother doesn't approve of our relationship. All he cares about is licking the walls and silverware and whatever else he finds under the couch."

The Dementor was surpassingly affectionate, placing a hand beneath Alecto's chin and gently lifting her head. "It doesn't matter what he or anyone else thinks of us," the Dementor hissed, his voice no more than a hoarse, rattling whisper. "We don't need their approval. All we need is each other and a sandbox full of rice."

"Yes." Alecto managed to smile through her tears, her eyes bright and shining in the moonlight. "And cookies. Big cookies with lots of shiny sprinkles. And shiny cake and a super shiny, sparkly wedding dress."

"Anything for you, love," the Dementor crooned sweetly, and together they watched the sunrise as the twilight hours began to fade.

Chapter Text

Stop teasing your little brother, they said. But did Sirius ever listen? No, of course not. He refused to listen to what his parents told him, his mind working overtime to keep coming up with more ridiculous ways to tease, prank and harass poor Regulus.

This was unfortunate because Regulus admired his older brother. He looked up to him, hanging on his every word and believing everything he told him. So when Sirius told him there was a goblin living in the u bend, he believed it.

"Oh yes," Sirius told him in tones of mock seriousness. "His name is Yahooty. And when you sit down to poop, he'll come out of the pipes and grab your winky!" He then launched himself across the coffee table, snarling and grabbing at his terrified sibling.

Regulus leapt up, screaming, and ran from the living room, hearing Sirius' laughter floating down the hall. When he reached the bedroom, he quickly slammed the door, leaning against it and breathing heavily. For a moment he felt as though he might burst into tears. He loved his brother. He really did, but this was getting to be a bit much. It was always something with Sirius, and yet he couldn't shake the thought of entering the bathroom and being assaulted by some perverted goblin.

What if Sirius was right? What if there really was a goblin lurking in the u bend?

Regulus closed his eyes and tried very hard not to imagine a pale, slimy hand emerging from the toilet. "No," he said, his lips pursed in an angry but determined pout. He had to be brave and stand up to this hideous toilet monster. But not without the proper equipment.

He ventured upstairs into their parents bedroom, waiting until his mother and father were asleep before swiping his father's wand from the nightstand. He'd waited a long time to do this, and by now he really had to go to the bathroom. Though not before testing things out and making sure it was safe.

Little Regulus padded barefoot into the bathroom, his heart racing and his bowels churning. He slowly approached the toilet, his hand trembling as he lifted the lid. He then stretched out his arm, waving his father's wand over the toilet to see if the goblin would come out and grab it.

He looked up suddenly when he heard the sound of footsteps coming down the hall. There in the doorway was his brother, clad in grey pajamas, rubbing sleep from his eyes with one hand.

"Reg, what're you - "

Sirius never got to finish his sentence. His presence had startled his little brother into performing accidental magic, and as he looked up a towering wall of water rose from the toilet. He was given a moment to realize what was happening before the tidal wave swept him off his feet, carrying him down the hallway and leaving him sprawled on his back on the carpet.

Chapter Text

Sometimes, when storms blow in from the north, strange things accompany these savage winds. These creatures of the deep, so often feared by all who encountered them, are then left to wander the borders of our world, choosing victims at random as they search for their next meal.

It was during a storm in the depths of winter that another of these unearthly beings was torn from its nest, its body carelessly tossed about like a paper doll, until it landed and began to cry outside the home of Maisie and Amycus Carrow.

Maisie was first to wake up, hair falling into her face as she lifted her head off the pillow. She could just make out a sound like cloth rippling and snapping back in the wind. This sound was accompanied by a high pitched, mournful wail that broke and hitched in strange rhythms, its haunting call echoing in the night.

This terrible noise appeared to be coming from the old apple tree outside their bedroom window, and when Maisie rose from their bed and looked outside, she could just make out a length of cloth, its thin form dark and ragged, tangled in the skeletal branches.

"Wake up, Amycus," said Maisie, returning to their bed and placing a hand on his shoulder. "It sounds like some poor beast is caught in the tree."

"Hmm, pancakes," Amycus muttered in his sleep, rolling over and slapping Maisie in the face with his caterpillar tongue. A warm trickle of saliva dribbled down her neck, his tongue curling around her arm and caressing the curve of her waist. "Good pancakes. And a most delicious syrup." He then snorted and came awake with a start. "Wait, you're not a pancake," Amycus said, blinking and staring at his fiancée. "You are delicious, though."

Maisie couldn't help but smile a little, a smile which quickly faded as the creature unleashed another harsh, plaintive moan.

"Listen, Amycus. Can you hear that?" She motioned towards the window. "I think there's something outside."

Amycus lifted his tongue and cupped his ear with it. He listened for a moment, noticing how the noise rose in volume whenever the wind blew the tattered strip of fabric against the hollow bark.

"Whatever that is, it isn't human," he said, lowering his tongue and using it to pull back the covers. "Perhaps we should investigate."


Amycus was the first to step outside, his tongue wrapped around the doorknob, holding the door open for his beloved Maisie. "I certainly hope this is worth the effort," he muttered, glancing at the sodden bundle in the tree.

Maisie joined him on the porch, her robes pulled tight about her chest to keep out the cold. "Do you think you could get it down with your tongue?" she asked, sounding somewhat hopeful.

"First off, we do not know what it is," said Amycus, holding up a finger. "I'm not about to swipe something off a branch like a common Snatcher without first knowing if it is dangerous. You don't want me to lose this perfectly pleasurable pendant, now do you?" He ran a hand down the slick surface of his tongue as he said this.

Maisie shook her head.

"Right. I didn't think so. Secondly," he held up another finger, "I can summon the creature if need be."

Lightning flared overhead as Amycus withdrew his wand, illuminating the figure that was still tenaciously clinging to the branch.

"Good heavens," Amycus breathed, his eyes widening. "Is that what I think it is?" He made a brief motion with his wand, detaching the ragged clump and sending it soaring through the air.

Maisie caught the bundle as it flew towards the porch, positioning it carefully so that she could see its face beneath a swath of decaying fabric.

The pungent smell of death permeated the air as the infant opened its mouth, hissing and spitting like a rabid animal. The stench was so horrible that Amycus pinched his nose with the tip of his tongue.

"What is that?" Maisie asked, and was greeted with a hoarse, rattling cry.

"I am baby Dementor! I suck much face!" The creature then launched itself at Maisie, latching onto her and dangling from her cheek like a leech.

Amycus cringed, repulsed by the wet, sucking sounds that followed the Dementor's attack. "I thought Dementors were supposed to suck souls."

"Well, apparently this one sucks face," said Maisie, sounding very much like Wednesday Addams. She grasped the Dementor around its waist, pulling it off and holding it at arm's length. "What's your name, little one?"

"Les," the baby burbled. "I want suck face now."

Maisie chuckled, amused by the infant's statement. "She's adorable, Amycus. I think we should bring her inside and look after her for a bit."

"Really, Maisie?" Amycus raised an eyebrow, giving the Dementor a look which clearly stated that he was uncomfortable in its presence.

"Yes, really." Maisie smiled and held the squirming bundle against her chest. "But don't worry. It'll just be until we can find her parents. In the mean time, it might be fun to introduce her to your sister. Who knows? Maybe the Dementor likes riceplay as much as she likes sucking face."

Chapter Text

Alecto was sleeping soundly in her rice nest when Maisie brought the baby Dementor inside. She shifted slightly, hearing her brother's tongue slap against the hardwood floor as they crossed the threshold, then opened one eye and saw him rolling up the lengthy appendage.

"No," she murmured in her drowsy state of half-sleep. "Alecto cold. Need much warmth."

The next thing he knew, Alecto had seized his tongue and draped it over her like a warm, wet blanket.

"Les, this is Alecto," said Maisie, speaking calmly as though using her boyfriend's tongue as a blanket was an every day occurrence. "She has a fondness for rice and all things shiny."

"Shiny?" the infant burbled, turning her head and looking up at Maisie. She remembered seeing something shiny drifting on the wind, its silver foil glinting in the moonlight. It was pretty, like a piece of starlight fallen to earth. The thought made her squirm with excitement. "Shiny!" squeaked the Dementor. "Shiny, shiny, shiny!"

Amycus looked at Maisie with concern, his tongue stretched across the living room floor with Alecto snuggling it in her sleep. The last thing they needed was competition over shinies.

"Oh, you like shiny things, too?" cooed Maisie, lifting the baby up and tossing her into the air. The Dementor squealed with delight as she drifted like a falling leaf into Maisie's arms. "Well, perhaps I could show you Alecto's shiny collection." She glanced at her adopted daughter. "She's asleep right now, so I don't think she'll mind. But you have to promise not to touch anything."

"No touchie!" squeaked the Dementor.

That was good enough for Maisie, who whisked the infant upstairs and into Alecto's bedroom.


The walls in Alecto's room were covered with silver wallpaper, her shelves lined with glittering trophies known as "Muggle shiny things". There were hundreds of them, each one just as radiant as the next. It was the Muggle shiny things that drew Les' attention, and she launched herself through the air, sucking up nearly a dozen of them before Maisie caught her and managed to pry the Dementor's lips off the shiny objects.

But it didn't stop there. Les screeched and whined, sounding very much like a bathtub full of cats gargling razor blades. Maisie didn't know that Dementors were capable of making such hideous noise. She wondered briefly whether or not the child was part banshee before releasing the infant and clapping her hands over her ears.

Once freed, the baby headed straight for the wallpaper, her lightweight form hitting the shiny surface with a splat. She landed spread eagle on the bedroom wall, looking for all the world like one of those suction cup animals you see in the back of Muggle vehicles, and immediately started sucking.

She sucked up the wallpaper like spaghetti, inhaling every last shred of the shiny substance. Maisie was left chasing the last strand of glittery paper, her fingers closing around the paper just moments before it slid from her grasp and disappeared into the Dementor's cavernous mouth.

They looked at each other, silence stretching between them as Maisie's eyes widened in horror. The Dementor smiled sweetly, a sliver of shiny paper dangling from the corner of her mouth. Then, after all was quiet for a full twenty seconds, the infant unleashed a tremendous belch, sending the scrap of wallpaper sailing across the room.

"'Excuse me." Les giggled, lifting a hand and covering her mouth.

"No," Maisie murmured, watching as the last piece of wallpaper fluttered across the room and settled in the corner. She was just getting to her feet when the sound of footsteps reached her ears, and she turned to see Amycus standing in the door. "Amycus, look what she's done!" Maisie exclaimed, pointing a finger at Les. "This little demon inhaled all of Alecto's shiny wallpaper."

"It's not surprising," said Amycus thoughtfully, rubbing his chin with his tongue. "Young Dementors often go through a phase known as 'soul searching', similar to when human infants put everything in their mouth in an effort to explore the world around them. This typically results in them sucking up anything and everything within a five mile radius."

Maisie gaped at him. "And you couldn't have told me about this before I brought her inside?!"

Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of harsh wails coming from downstairs, causing Amycus to start at the sound of his sister's tear filled cries.

"Oh dear," muttered Amycus, sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose with his tongue. "It appears as though my sister is awake. I tried giving her a hot water bottle wrapped in a moist towelette as a substitute for my tongue, though I don't think it had the calming effect I had hoped for."

Maisie huffed out an irritated sigh, picked up the baby Dementor and thrust the infant at Amycus. "Watch her for a minute. I need to send an urgent message to Barty, letting him know we've got a situation on our hands."


Moments later the handsome, young Death Eater was sliding from the fireplace, his hair and jacket covered in soot. Barty Crouch Jr. stood gracefully and brushed the ash from his hair, licking his lips as he observed the scene before him.

Maisie was sitting in the chair by the fireplace with Alecto in her lap, rocking the Death Eater while simultaneously stroking her hair. Amycus, who was standing next to the fireplace with his arms crossed over his chest, had a death grip on the squirming Dementor with his caterpillar tongue, preventing her from going on another sucking spree.

"Barty," he said around the wet, muscular organ dangling from the corner of his mouth. "We had an unfortunate encounter with a baby Dementor, resulting in the loss of several Muggle shinies along with my sister's wallpaper. We need you to purchase some more shiny wallpaper while we attempt to deal with the situation. Swiping a few shinies to replace the ones she lost would also be appreciated," he added as an afterthought.

Barty lowered his gaze, observing the Dementor who, upon the arrival of Crouch's son, had gone limp in Amycus' embrace, her eyes wide and staring. "What? You mean this little thing?" Barty glanced around the room, looking from Maisie to Amycus before returning to the Dementor. "She looks rather harmless to me."

"She may look harmless, but she is an absolute nightmare," Amycus insisted.

"Well, alright then." Barty turned and was halfway across the living room when the Dementor shot out of the drippy coils that held her prisoner, pounced on the unfortunate Death Eater and began sucking on his left buttock. "What?!" Barty shrieked, turning in circles in an attempt to see what had latched onto his rear. "Get this thing off me!" He then began an odd, on the spot jig, leaping and prancing while trying to pull the offending creature off his behind.

"Hmm, yes, more soul searching, I see," Amycus said casually. "Looks like she's your problem now. Though I daresay she'll suck the pants off your rear end if you don't detach her quickly, Barty."

Alecto leaned forward and started to laugh, her shiny wallpaper temporarily forgotten as Barty continued to struggle with the Dementor. Maisie couldn't help but join in, their laughter mingling with the sound of Barty's horrified screams. Little did they know this tiny Dementor had fallen for Crouch's son, and that one day the happy couple would be brought together in wedded bliss. But that, my friends, is a story for another day.

Chapter Text

Death Eaters had gathered in the meeting room, taking their seats and listening to the smooth tones of their master's voice. They had work to do. Plans were being made for the attack on Hogwarts. And yet Bellatrix seemed incapable of focusing on the low drone that carried throughout the room.

She leaned forward in her seat, enraptured by the sound but not really hearing what he was saying. It was like a whisper on water, filling her mind with all sorts of lustful thoughts.

She squirmed in her seat when he motioned towards one of his followers. Yaxley nodded and the conversation continued, until suddenly the Dark Lord's voice dissolved into a fit of snickers and giggles.

Bellatrix blinked, looking around as she became aware of the others in the room, and saw that heads were turning, their expressions ranging from curious to concerned as Voldemort laughed and fell across the table.

"Nagini!" he exclaimed, honking and slapping the table. "Stop that at once! You know how ticklish I am."

An angry flush blossomed on Bellatrix's cheeks. How dare that wretched snake tickle her master when all she could think of was the many ways in which she might pleasure him?

She grasped the table cloth and flipped it over the rim of the table, ignoring Lucius' rude utterance as he was struck in the face with a flourish of black, lacy fabric.

There was Nagini, flicking her forked tongue at Lord Voldemort's feet. She was so engrossed in her actions that she didn't even look up when Bellatrix lifted the table cloth.

"She's licking his feet!" Bellatrix shrieked, fury lacing her tone. "Why the bloody hell is she licking his feet?"

Amycus, who was sitting at the far end of the table, unrolled his caterpillar tongue, grinning as the muscular organ hit the table with a splat. "Because licking is most pleasurable," he said, and Maisie nodded in agreement.

Chapter Text

This had gone on long enough. Narcissa didn't mean to be rude, but she was tired of listening to Greyback complain about how he couldn't find a mate. She was tired of smelling his horrendous funk, the flies tap dancing on his dirt encrusted wounds while he sat there scratching himself. She had to be completely open and honest about this. Greyback needed a bath. And maybe, once he was cleaned up a bit, he would be more likely to attract a member of the opposite sex.

"A bath?" Greyback tilted his head to the side, lifted his foot and scratched behind his left ear. "No, I don't think I need one of those. Just had one last month, you see. I should be good until spring."

He had just turned around and started chewing a flea bite on his hip when Narcissa called for her mother. It wasn't something she wanted to do, but desperate times called for desperate measures. And if anyone could force a monstrous werewolf into the bathtub, it was Druella.

At first he was amused by her presence, grinning as she ordered him to strip naked and get in the bathtub.

"Only if your daughter gets in there with me," he growled, giving Druella a sly wink. He then yelped as Druella seized his ear, yanking him off his feet and dragging him down the corridor towards the bathroom.

The sound of running water coupled with angry shouts filled the hall. Most of the noise came from Druella, who was using a combination of hexes while scolding the werewolf about his poor hygiene. Greyback, meanwhile, was practically climbing the walls, howling and spitting out soapy water every time she submerged in the bath.

His claws tore at the wallpaper, shredding the floral print. He was nearly choking on a mouthful of suds when his fingers closed around the towel rack. There was a loud snap as the towel rack broke, causing him to fall forward into the bathwater. He thought for sure this mad woman was trying to drown him, his vision blurring as a hand grabbed him by the wrist, pulling him from the lavender scented depths of his watery prison.

Distantly he was aware of a flash of light, scarlet hues showing through the darkness behind his eyelids. He slumped over the side of the tub, gasping and wheezing, then felt someone hauling his nude form onto the floor.

"Fenny!" Someone was there, slapping the side of his face in effort to revive him. "Fenny, wake up!"

"Alecto?" he groaned, his lashes lifting to reveal cloudy, yellow eyes.

"Hurry, Fenny!" Alecto cried, helping him up and stepping over Druella's unconscious body. "We have to get out of here before she wakes up!"

He gave her a brief nod, slipping on the wet tiles and skidding out into the hall. Together they fled Malfoy Manor just as the moon sailed free from the clouds, its circular form shining on the pair of friends. It was enough to bring about a transformation, his bloodcurdling howl piercing the silence of the night.

Alecto joined in, howling in unison as she tore off all her clothes. The last time anyone saw them she was riding on the back of a large wolf as he escaped into the woods.

Chapter Text

It was cold. Too cold for a serpentine Maledictus who was used to sunning herself on a rock. The clouds had rolled in, and the autumn leaves were blowing on the wind. Which meant that Nagini had to find other ways to keep warm.

She started by exploring various rooms in Malfoy Manor, going through wardrobes and dressers in search of something warm.

There was a sweater in Yaxley's closet that looked warm and comfortable, but when she tried it on it hung past her knees. It was also stained with splotches of grease, and Nagini didn't fancy the thought of smelling like an oily bucket of fried chicken.

Narcissa had some lovely robes in her wardrobe, each one lined with luxurious rabbit fur. But the smell of perfume on her clothing made Nagini gag. Lucius had some expensive jackets, but when she put one on it was stiff and uncomfortable.

Returning to the guest bedrooms, Nagini bypassed Yaxley's room and started exploring Severus' sleeping space. She found layer upon layer of soft, fuzzy blankets on his bed. There were green checkered blankets, worn blankets with patches sewn on to cover the holes, and an aged quilt that smelled of lilac.

She gathered the blankets and went downstairs, her bare feet softly padding across the polished hardwood floor. When she reached the couch, she took a seat and started cocooning herself in a layer of blankets.

Later that day, Severus went to his room and was ready to lie down for a nap when he noticed his blankets were missing. It wasn't laundry day, so the house elves hadn't run off with the linens. And unless Wormtail had been adding to his rat's nest in the attic, there was no reason why his blankets would be missing.

The confused Potions Master started searching for his blankets, looking under the bed and checking the closet. When he found nothing he ventured downstairs, only to discover a pile of blankets on the couch.

The blankets rose and fell with Nagini's deep, easy breathing, but Severus didn't know that it was the Dark Lord's pet snoozing on the couch. He could only see the tips of her toes, along with several strands of dark hair escaping the folds in the material.

He approached the mound of blankets and tried poking it with his index finger, then quickly took a step back when the person inside the blankets hissed at him. Wait, people don't hiss. What on earth was going on?

Another poke. The hissing grew louder, more agitated.

Severus grasped the corner of the blanket, lifting it carefully and revealing Nagini in her human form, her eyes narrowed as she glared at him. This was puzzling, because up until now he'd only known her to hiss while in snake form.

"Go away," she snapped, her tone biting and cold. "Snek are blanket burrito. Snek wants to be left alone."

"Alright." Severus lowered the blanket and stepped away from the couch. Because human or not, he wasn't messing with the Dark Lord's pet.

Chapter Text

Bare skin moved over smooth tile, warm with blood that cascaded from the gaping wounds of those who fell before him. Their bodies lie broken, strewn throughout the rubble, and yet the Dark Lord did not mind. He relished the feel of their life essence, their twisted limbs and mangled forms giving him pleasure. However, there was one amongst his lot who was none to happy with his decision to go barefoot.

Her name was Nagini. And as she slithered across the floor, following her master through the carnage, she picked up a wide variety of smells with each flick of her tongue.

Day by day the smell of the Dark Lord's feet grew stronger, overwhelming her senses with the scent of dried blood, dirt and filth. She turned her head as he walked past, noticing that the soles of his feet were blackened with a plethora of grime and nastiness. It was too much. She couldn't stand the sight, nor could she stand the smell, of her Master's feet.

Her lithe form started twisting and writhing upon the ground, shedding the remnants of her serpentine guise as the body of a beautiful lady rose from the coils of her former self. The Death Eaters, now gathered around their master as he prepared to launch an attack on Hogwarts, stopped to stare at her, their eyes widening at the sight of this lovely lady.

"That does it!" Nagini screeched, turning to face her master. "Do you have any idea how many things I smell on a daily basis? Always circling around your feet like a stripper begging for pocket change," she made a circular motion with her index finger, pointing at the ground then coming closer until she was inches away from his noseless countenance, "smelling that horrid stink until my eyes water and burn. It's no wonder you don't have a nose. It probably fell off when you caught a whiff of your own rancid body odor."

Beside them, Bellatrix made a motion with her right hand, reaching for her wand when Voldemort held out his arm, creating a barrier between the demented witch and the incensed Maledictus.

The scene she caused was embarrassing beyond belief, his pale features turning a deep shade of crimson as Nagini continued her vicious rant. He wished that he could strike her, silencing her with a curse then punishing her for her behavior. But Nagini had the protection of a horcrux, thus giving her the freedom to speak her mind whenever and wherever she felt like it.

"I've had it with you and your stinking feet," Nagini continued, lifting a hand and poking him in the chest. "Either you wash those filthy things right now or you can find yourself another horcrux."

The Dark Lord turned to his followers. One of his Death Eaters snorted, covering their mouth with a hand to stifle a fit of giggles. This turned out to be a fatal mistake, a flash of green illuminating the night sky as the Death Eater was erased from existence. He then finished by casting a cleansing charm on his feet before beginning the attack on Hogwarts.