The Hole
Harry Potter, spandex-free superhero of the wizarding world, was going nuts. He'd survived seven years of battling the dark lord and a wizard war, only to be going out of his freaking mind. He knew this because only sanity-challenged individuals could touch ghosts. Oh sure, you could put your hand through them and such, but when was the last time anyone had copped a feel from one, especially a rather unpleasant, snarky one?
It was particularly disturbing because said ghost was Severus Snape who, on the best of days, wished a grisly death on Potter. Coming back from the dead hadn't improved his humor.
"Potter, you insufferable lout!"
Oh God, there he is again! Harry ducked under his desk.
"I see your arse protruding, Potter," the ghost remarked in a lazy drawl. "You can't hide from me, you may as well face up to—"
Harry Disapparated, Apparating in the shower. He'd be safe here, everyone knew Snape never washed. Hearing the gurgling, swishing sound of a toilet brush ramming up and down in the bowl, he peeked around the curtain and screamed. The house elf scrubbing the toilet screamed in reply.
"Dobby!"
"Master Harry," he squeaked.
"What are you doing here?"
"Toilets don't clean themselves, Master Harry." Plunge, swish.
"You're dead!" Harry cried in consternation.
"If Master Harry wishes Dobby to die, Dobby will obey," he said, throttling himself and banging his head on the sink.
"Dobby, stop!" The elf stopped. "You're already dead."
"What is going on in here?" drawled Lucius, Harry's new roommate, courtesy of Ordinance #126 subsection B, requiring all ex-Death Eaters to room with an enemy to promote communication and understanding.
"Malfoy, get out!" shouted Harry.
Lucius raised an eyebrow. "I need to wash my hair. And isn't it customary to shower without clothing?"
"GET OUT!"
"Pushy little prick," muttered Malfoy. So far he thought their communication was going swimmingly. "Snape wants to see you in the living room." See, he was even being helpful. On the way out he slammed Dobby across the skull with his cane. Purely reflex, of course.
Lucius sauntered into the living room and flopped on the couch. "He's in the shower."
"I don't hear any water running," Severus replied.
Lucius was too busy fiddling with the television remote to care; he still hadn't got the knack of how it worked. "Not my problem. Kids nowadays are weird as hell." He banged the remote on the table in hopes of improving its service.
Absolutely giddy at the opportunity to throw in Lucius' face the Topic-That-Must-Not-Be-Named, Severus smirked. "Is that why you dumped Draco off on me to raise?"
Looking quite put out, Lucius retorted, "Everyone's always told me I'd be a lousy father, and you know how perfect strangers are usually right about these things. I took preventive measures."
"Condoms are preventive measures, Lucius," snapped Snape. "You abandoned him!"
Malfoy threw up his hands. "I rest my case! Besides, you gave him back when you noticed his resemblance to me. Stupid, beautiful hair," he mumbled, tugging at his locks, then smoothing them soothingly as he apologized profusely.
Snape rolled his eyes, took a deep breath, and bellowed, "Potter, get your lazy, worthless carcass in here before I—" Damn it, he must remember to fully formulate his threats before delivering them.
Finally Harry came slinking in, peeking around the corner. "Why are you haunting me?"
"Haunting you?" Severus echoed in a gasp. "You wish! I came for satisfaction."
"I can't get no—satisfaction," Lucius sang, tapping his feet. "A Muggle ditty, but catchy."
"Shut up!" Snape and Harry shouted together.
"Professor Snape, I know we had our differences when you were alive, but isn't death supposed to make these things irrelevant?" asked Harry hopefully.
"I wouldn't know, Potter," Severus replied dryly. "When I die I'll come haunt you and fill you in."
"But you are dead. We buried you!"
"You buried me alive, you moron!" roared Snape. "You threw me in a pit with a house elf!"
On cue, Dobby toddled into the room. "Dobby saved Master Harry's life and Master Harry threw Dobby in a hole."
"Potter definitely has a problem showing gratitude," Lucius commiserated. "Why, when I burned all his hideous Muggle clothing and bought him a decent wardrobe, the prat actually berated me. Me! Am I not the pinnacle of fashion?" He stood up and twirled around, showing off his lovely robes. Everyone ignored him, which he found unutterably rude.
"Dobby doesn't like holes. They remind Dobby of his sleeping quarters at Master Malfoy's house, although this hole was roomier than—"
"Oh, get off it!" Lucius barked, kicking him. "You were not mistreated!" He pulled the elf's ears. "Why does everyone accuse me of being evil?"
"Potter," said Snape levelly. "The fact remains that you buried me and the elf in a mass grave—which for you, I suppose, was showing more class than usual."
"Didn't have time to bury Dobby, Master Harry said," interjected the elf. "Only when Professor Snape came they tossed dirt on Dobby. Cold in the hole." He shivered.
"I totally understand that," said Lucius, trying to be understanding. "When Lord Voldemort cut off my hair to make a wig for himself, I would have been really cold if it hadn't actually been a wig I was wearing at the time—bad hair day, you know."
"Shut up!" Harry shrieked. "Dobby, you had a knife in your back."
"Dobby fainted from the pain and blood loss. Does Master Harry wants the knife?" He scuttled out of the room.
"And Snape, Nagini bit you. You died of the poison."
Snape rolled his eyes again and sighed loudly. "Does your stupidity know no bounds? How many years did I teach Potions, Potter? Do you think I haven't inoculated myself against every poison known to wizards? And I always carry a spare bezoar, but I hardly expect a boy of your, er, talents to be able to connect the dots."
Dobby came hobbling in dragging a heavy knife. "Dobby washed off Dobby's blood, Master Harry. Professor Snape saved Dobby and healed Dobby's wound."
"So, uh, neither of you is really dead?"
Snape and Dobby shook their heads. Lucius, not wanting to be left out, shook his, too.
Harry, looking sheepish, backed away toward the front door. "Well, ah, sorry then. My mistake."
"Mistake?" Severus groaned as he restrained himself from splitting his own skull against the wall from sheer frustration. "Potter, if we had died, it would have been on your head."
"But you didn't, so everything worked out great," Harry chirped. He latched onto the doorknob, cracked open the door, and slithered out while mumbling, "Malfoy, call me when Snape leaves so I can come home." The door shut and they heard the sound of footsteps running down the hall.
Severus glanced over at Lucius, who'd resumed his quest to make the television function. He was now cursing it with his wand.
"Lucius, push the damn button! It's not that difficult!" Snape stormed over, picked up the remote control, shoved it in Malfoy's face, and pressed the power button. The telly sprang to life. Lucius squealed in delight.
"This is my favorite program—well, not my very favorite, but—"
"I'm leaving," muttered Severus in disgust. "You can feel free to call Potter now."
Lucius tore himself from his program long enough to look at his friend in bemusement. "Call him what?"
"Call him on the telephone!"
That made Lucius chuckle. "As if! I don't even know how to use that filthy Muggle contraption. Oooh, look! A game show!"
Severus looked around the place one final time to the accompaniment of blaring music and raucous audience cheers. So this was what he'd come back for? An unrepentant Potter and a television-addicted, soon to be brain dead Malfoy? Snape left the flat, sighing and shaking his head sadly. Some days it just seemed better to stay in the hole.