A:N: Yet another chapter to make up for my unacceptable lack of posting these last couple of months. Anyway, I realised far too late that I had missed out the part where (in Sweeney Todd) Anthony tells Mr T about Johanna. Soo I tried to make up for it. I hope it works. If not, enjoy the rest of the chapter!

Chapter 10

It was a misty and miserable day at Hogwarts; the fat grey clouds obscured any sunlight and a thin sheet of rain drenched anyone who was forced to venture outdoors. The weather, however, was an irrelevance if you were unfortunate enough to be stuck in the dungeons in Professor Snape's lesson. He was currently ridiculing a terrified first-year student who had accidentally botched his sleeping potion.

"What do you call this slime, Creevey?" he smirked, peering into the boy's cauldron.

"S-sleeping Potion, Sir," replied Creevey in a whisper.

"Would you? I'd call it filth!" spat Snape. "70 points from Gryffindor and detention every night this week!" he snapped. "Class dismissed."

Snape sauntered out of the room before his students had time to react.

As he was striding towards his office he encountered Wormtail.

"Ah, Wormtail. Walk with me, I have something to discuss with you," balked Snape.

Intrigued, Wormtail followed.

After checking that they were alone, Snape declared;

"In order to save her from the cruelties of this world, I have decided to marry my ward, Hermione."

"Oh, wonderful news indeed, Sir!" exclaimed Wormtail.

Snape, however, seemed troubled.

"It was peculiar, though that when I offered myself to her, she seemed rather…reluctant," he confessed.

Wormtail bit his lip briefly before he spoke.

"If you don't mind me saying so, Sir, you're not quite looking your best at the moment," he suggested cautiously.

Snape nodded curtly as encouragement to continue.

"Well, I only mean to say that your robes aren't in the best condition and you could do with a hair cut, Sir," said Wormtail hurriedly, clearly readying himself for some kind of reprimand.

Snape ran his fingers through his greasy mop of hair and sniffed.

"Perhaps I could make more of an effort," he conceded grudgingly.

"Sir, it makes sense!" grinned Wormtail in relief. "With a haircut, some new robes and a shaven face, she'll be desperate to have your hand in marriage! Witches are weak, Sir!"

"Hmm," was Snape's only response.

"Fret not though, Sir, I know of a barber in Hogsmeade who can conjure a smoother face than you can even imagine! His name is Voldemort and he resides at Knockturn Alley."

Snape seemed to be thinking. He stroked his stubbly face and thought of the look of revulsion Hermione had given him.

"Take me to him," he said shortly to Wormtail who seemed to be smirking at his own apparent genius.

Bellatrix didn't think she'd ever been so bored in her life. The elf, more's the pity, seemed to have taken a liking to her and hadn't stopped talking and hiccupping whilst drinking his Butterbeer.

"…and if I didn't do what I was told, I had to burn my hands in the oven, miss!" he was bleating now.

"That's nice," said Bellatrix absent-mindedly. "I think I'll just go and check on Lord Voldemort."

She bustled upstairs and entered the barber's shop.

"That elf is driving me insane," she complained before glancing around the room. "How long 'til Slughorn gets back?"

"He won't be back," Voldemort said softly, wiping his wand delicately with a cloth.

Comprehension dawned on Bellatrix's face and she gasped. "My Lord, you didn't!" she exclaimed.

Voldemort inclined his head slightly towards the trunk. Bellatrix, following his gaze, stepped towards it and gingerly lifted the lid.

Horace Slughorn was slumped, clearly dead, with a look of horror on his round face.

"Have you gone mad?!" she gaped at Voldemort, a twinkle of excitement in her eye that could not be disguised by the apparent fear in her voice.

"He remembered me from before. He tried to blackmail me for half my earnings. Obviously I'm not one for patience and so I had no choice but to let him feel Lord Voldemort's wrath!"

The excitement faded from Bella's face; his logical reason for the attack seemed to lessen the fun of it somehow. Still, she noted, it was probably the most he'd said to her for days.

"Oh, well. That's all right then," she recovered herself quickly, before bending to rummage through Slughorn's pockets. She scooped a money bag out of his robes and tucked it into her dress. "No need to waste it," she reasoned.

Voldemort seemed not to have noticed, or at least acknowledged, any of this. He was still peering at his wand for fingerprints and dust.

"So what shall I do about the elf then?" she asked.

Voldemort shrugged carelessly.

"Send it up."

"Oh, there's no need for all that. He c-"

"Send it up!" Voldemort growled, his eyes flashing momentarily red.

Bellatrix sighed.

"I was only thinking he could help me out round the shop. An elf always comes in handy."

Voldemort grit his teeth and turned to face the window. For the second time that day, he was in for a surprise. Snape and Wormtail were walking towards the building.

His mouth went dry.

"Snape!" he rasped, his heart beginning to thud. "Get out."

Bellatrix started at him worriedly. She didn't want him to over-react in his excitement and blow his cover. He had to be careful.

When she didn't move, Voldemort swung around to face her and roared; "Get out!" once again.

Reluctantly, she scurried from the room.

Moments later, Snape was tapping on the door.

"Come in!"

"Mr Voldemort?" enquired Snape silkily.

"Professor Snape." Voldemort replied, bowing his head slightly, partly to hide his angry expression but also to display fraudulent respect. He needed to gain Snape's trust.

Snape cocked his head to one side in confusion.

"You know me, Sir?"

Realising his mistake, Voldemort quickly turned it to his advantage.

"Who in the magical world does not know the great Severus Snape?" he smiled courteously. No-one could deny that Tom Riddle had always been an excellent liar.

It was an attribute to his arrogance that Snape accepted this comment without question.

"So what can I do for you today, Sir?" smiled Voldemort. "A stylish trimming of the head? A soothing skin massage? Take a seat!"

He spoke with such an elegant and charming politeness; it was the manner of which Bellatrix had been praying for ever since she'd been reunited with him.

The effort went unappreciated by Snape, however who began a list of orders in a tone which ordinarily would have made Voldemort compelled to punish the speaker. It was only his burning need for revenge that motivated the charming smile to stay on his face.

As Snape settled himself into Bellatrix's chair, he sighed contentedly and began to talk to Voldemort in a slightly warmer tone.

"The things we do for the love of a witch…" he murmured, causing Voldemort to freeze in anticipation.

"Who may I ask is your intended, Sir?" he breathed.

"My ward," Snape replied with relish. "She's as pretty as a Veela."

"As pretty as her mother?" Voldemort couldn't help but growl, anger coursing through his veins.

"What?" said Snape sharply, his suspicions aroused.

"Nothing, Sir! Nothing!" Voldemort answered hastily. He must control himself. Regaining his air of grace, he continued;

"Shall we proceed?"

Snape closed his eyes and leant back in his seat, as Voldemort began to magically dissolve the short hairs on his face.

Deciding it was best to keep him talking so that he had no opportunity to think about his last comment, Voldemort struck up a conversation about beautiful witches; a topic Snape obviously knew a great deal about it seemed.

Just as Voldemort had reached a peak of tension, and had raised his wand higher to deliver the fatal curse, the door burst open and Ron skidded into the room, his cheeks flushed.

"Sir, you have to help me! I need to rescue a girl! Hermione!" he panted before freezing when he saw who was sat in the barber's chair.

Snape looked mutinous.