Hey there! Here' a short little thing for you all. It's complete and utter daftness, but I enjoyed writing it. It sort of just popped into my head.

Ooh, Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with Harry Potter.

What's Wrong With Socks?

Voldemort checked his watch. Looking at the shiny timepiece, he couldn't help but feel sad. No one ever expected Voldemort to be interested in normal things like watches. It was just so unfair! When he'd asked for woolly socks for Christmas (Dumbledore, was right, you just couldn't have enough socks) everyone (including Father Christmas) had thought that he was joking and had bought him boring, poorly written books on the Dark Arts, which he really couldn't be bothered to read. He knew it all anyway. So he always hid his watch from the Death Eaters. He knew they wouldn't appreciate it. But he shouldn't be worrying about that now. He had a bank to hold up.

'Five, four, three, two…one,' muttered Voldemort under his breath, and leapt out of his hiding place and into the pristine muggle bank. He always found muggles were more fun to steal from than wizards. 'Stick 'em up, muggles!' yelled Voldemort, leaping on to a desk covered in paperwork, and promptly slipping on some loose sheets of paper, and toppling off the desk with a shriek, his new gun flying across the room.

Voldemort cursed, getting to his feet with much difficulty, as he had one leg trapped in a dustbin. Hopping around the room with his foot in the bin, he tried to regain his authority, while the muggles looked at each other, with doubtful looks on their faces. They quite clearly said, ' What a pathetic weirdo,' and Voldemort quite distinctly heard one of them say, 'Er… you want to call the cops, or shall I?' in a not remotely frightened tone. This was too much for Volders.

'Right!' he yelled, drawing his wand from his robe pocket with immense speed, 'I'm going to…to, uh…' but Voldemort never got to finish, because the muggles had all burst into laughter at the sight of his wand. Voldemort was now very angry. He attempted to spin around in order to find another desk to stand on, but fell flat on his face due to the dustbin that was wedged on his foot. Voldemort was rather red in the face by now (NOT a usual thing for Voldemort) and turned even redder when two policemen hauled him to his feet and dragged him off to the police station.

***

The next morning, Voldemort was on his mobile phone, urgently calling Snape.

'Hello? Oh, hi Snape…Yeah…Yes I know…Listen, Snape, would you, uh, mind, um, er…'

'You want me to bail you out again don't you?' said Snape wearily.

'If you would.'

'What was it this time?'

'I, um, got caught trying to rob a muggle bank…' muttered Voldemort shame-facedly, 'So, would you mind…? Snape? Snape, are you there? Hello? Snape?'

But Snape had collapsed, giggling helplessly on the floor.

An hour or so later, Snape and Voldemort (Snape having bailed Voldemort out by now), were walking calmly through the park.

'Voldy?' asked Snape suddenly.

'Hmm?' said Voldemort, twitching slightly at the use of that stupid nick-name.

'Why don't you just apparate away whenever you get caught?'

Voldemort mentally slapped himself. He'd never thought of that.

Yep. There we are. Complete rubbish, eh? But I liked it. :)

Tabs :D