[ Printer Friendly Version ] [ Report Abuse ]
Chapter 1 : Ibiza
| ||Rating: 15+||Chapter Reviews: 26|
Background: Font color:
Voldemort strutted into the travel agents, sunglasses down, sun hat on and a scowl firmly fixed onto his face. It was his model walk. He had learnt it while attending London Fashion Week where his new label, Voldie’s Vanity, had done remarkably well. That was until Bellatrix had gotten over excited and set fire to the dress she was meant to be wearing, but aside from that everything went according to plan.
He pushed the door open, having a quick glance at his reflection in the mirror before entering it. He looked ravishing of course. Bellatrix trotted in after him, who was quickly followed by hair care expert, Lucius Malfoy, and resident muse, Severus Snape.
“My Lord, I must insist, your plans on going to Ibiza would serve neither of our complexions well,” Lucius Malfoy piped up. “We would burn to a crisp and then no one would be able to provide such vibrant designs as you do.”
“How dare you defy his wishes?” Bellatrix shrieked. “If you carry on like this I’ll spread rumours about you to a tabloid!”
“Calm down, Bella. If he carries on like this, I will deal with him. We would do something more original such as start a lawsuit saying he made absurd claims about us or something. Right now, I need to deal with what my muse wants, isn’t that right, Severus?”
Snape pouted his lips and waved his hair around causing droplets of grease to spray everywhere while doing so. “Of course, my muse is calling me to Ibiza. It is the party island for British people aiming to tan and that is what I wish to do.”
“Couldn’t we at least go to St. Tropez?” Lucius pleaded. “At least it attracts a nicer type of person.”
“You have heard what his muse wants, and I need to keep my muse happy so that is what we will do, Lucius. No arguments.” Voldemort stormed off to a corner, too angry to talk to the others. He could not allow Harry’s Hipsters to overtake them in being the hottest brand around; to prevent that he needed to keep his muse happy. Though he did have to agree with Lucius, having red skin really would clash with his robes.
Eyeing an unoccupied travel agent, he hurried over. “I demand that you book me and my entourage onto the next flight to Ibiza, pronto.” He snapped his fingers for good measure which caused the travel agent to type furiously on the keyboard.
“There’s a flight tomorrow at nine in the morning from Stansted airport,” the travel agent said nervously. “You don’t mind flying with Quick Ways, do you? Otherwise the next flight is in a month from now with Scottish Air.”
Voldemort let out a little hiss at the mention of Quick Ways. They had no right to be called an airline with their limited foot room, lack of allocated seating and making you pay to check-in a bag. Though having a museless muse wouldn’t be much good either, so he would have to risk getting thrombosis just this once.
“If I must. Let it be known that if this flight is far from satisfactory and upsets my muse, you will face the wrath of Lord Voldemort, chief designer of Voldie’s Vanity.”
“Of what?” the travel agent asked. Voldemort didn’t bother answering. He wasn’t worthy of it if he didn’t know about Voldie’s Vanity. “Would you like to tie the flights in with a hire car or the hotel? We offer some very good package deals if you book them altogether.”
“If I must, I wish to get this torture over with as soon as possible.” Voldemort pulled a cigarette out of his pocket, lit it and began smoking.
“Sir, there’s a law passed banning smoking in public places; you’ll have to extinguish it now.” Voldemort glared at him which soon made the travel agent forget about it. Smoking was the only thing which was helping him through this ordeal. “Well, there’s the Aquamarine Hotel with full board and karaoke every night. We could also offer you a car of your choice to hire.”
“Yes, yes whatever, I’ll go with it.” Voldemort pulled a wad of £50 notes from his pocket and shoved them onto the table. “That should suffice. I expect all boarding passes and such to be sent to me, pronto.”
Snapping his fingers at his entourage, they quickly swept out of the building and back to their headquarters to begin the next stage of the journey.
Bellatrix wasn’t happy. First of all, Snape got the window seat, claiming that the sun’s rays were particularly more powerful up here so he could tan. Then she was forced to sit in the other aisle so they could have a ‘boy talk’, meaning she ended up next to a teething baby. On top of that, the baby’s mother had disappeared to the toilet ten minutes ago and hadn’t reappeared, leaving the baby in Bellatrix’s care.
“Infernal child, do not play with my hair. It takes several hours to put the hair curlers in.”
The baby continued to ignore Bellatrix’s demands and matters were made worse by the arrival of the air hostess with her too white teeth and too eager to please attitude. “What a beautiful baby you have!” she exclaimed and lent in and began cooing.
“This brat is not mine, and I do not plan on ever having any so to limit other people’s suffering,” Bellatrix sneered, causing the baby to start crying.
The air hostess immediately returned to her former position, and a slight glare was beginning to appear through the smile. “I see,” she said slowly. “Well, I have to go and serve other customers so I’ll be off.”
Bellatrix let out a soft cackle at the departing woman’s figure. Her glare was pathetic. The baby’s mother soon returned, collecting her child from Bellatrix’s arm making more of those stupid cooing sounds. It was only then that she remembered that she had wanted to ask for a watered down hot chocolate.
The others had taken advantage of the no tax and gone all out and ordered alcohol, but she preferred to have her wits about her all the time. Well, Snape hadordered some obscure concoction of goat’s milk and ground cumin, but he was strange in Bellatrix's opinion.
She reached up and pressed the air hostess’s button above her but her call was wiped out with, “Cabin crew prepare for landing.” This resulted in a variety of lights popping on and off and noises buzzing around her.
When the air hostess finally walked past her again, Bellatrix tapped heavily against her arm to get her attention. “I pressed the button and I got no reply. I wished to be served at once.”
“Food and drinks can no longer be served when the plane is about to land,” the air hostess announced victoriously. “You’ll have to wait until we land and buy something at the airport.”
Bellatrix was about to retort a reply but the air hostess had already flounced off in the other direction. She attempted to vow to never use Quick Ways ever again, but her thoughts were interrupted by Lucius squealing about how he was going to die. How pathetic.
Lucius lathered sun cream onto his toned legs before turning and doing the same to Severus’s pasty ones. Oh how he detested this. He hated the heat. He hated the sun. Most of all, he hated Severus Snape, the cause of them being here.
The few hours spent on this ‘party boat’ caused his normally platinum hair to turn to a light blonde and his skin to a pale pink. That was with numerous layers of sun protection being applied to both. He had been left with the job because Voldemort had joined with the group of people doing the conga, and naturally Bellatrix went with him leaving Lucius to take care of Severus.
“More on my back please,” Snape demanded and copied Voldemort’s trademark snapping of fingers. Lucius had finally had enough. He refused to be at the beck and call of Severus just because he was Voldemort’s muse. Lucius was just as stunning, just as inspiring, just as awe-worthy so why couldn’t he be the muse for once?
He spotted a half-drunk cocktail on a table near to him. He wandered over, picked it up and handed it to Severus. “Here you go Severus; I thought you might want to refresh yourself with it. You’ve been out in the sun for the whole day, and that will damage your skin considerably.”
“It’s not alcoholic, is it?” Snape had an infamously low tolerance to alcohol, so of course he would be nervous.
“Of course not!” Lucius couldn’t be gladder that Snape’s sense of smell was impaired due to rupturing some sort of tube when sneezing too violently. Hopefully someone would be around to capture his activities and expose him for the inferior being he really was.
Severus gulped down the drink and the effects of it were immediate. He began stumbling around, bumping into people. He slowly made his way to the side of the party boat before throwing up down the side of it and continued to do so for twenty more minutes.
Even though the majority of the passengers were inebriated by this point, Severus still managed to provoke an adverse reaction in all of them.
“Chuck him off!”
“No room for weaklings on here!”
“We don’t want him here!”
The cries grew so loud, that even Voldemort broke away from his conga chain to find out what was going on. “Severus? How many times have we told you not to drink? This always happens,” he sulked once he found out who was causing the ruckus.
“How about we put him in the dinghy and attach it to the boat. He’ll still be with us, but the smell will be far away,” Lucius said craftily.
“How wise you are, Lucius!” Voldemort motioned to several of the life guards who did what Lucius suggested. “I need a new muse in residence until he’s recuperated, will you be up to it?”
Lucius could have cried with delight. “Of course, my Lord! I couldn’t think of anything I would want more!”
“Good, now come and meet my German friends they’re wild!”
Lucius followed Voldemort into the inside part of the boat where music pulsed, lights swirled and Bellatrix scowled in the corner.
Voldemort joined onto a line of sunburnt conga dancers yelling, “Wir kommen aus Deutschland und wir lieben zum Ferien!” Even if they did look a bit odd, Lucius thought he might as well join in. His place as resident muse would only be his for so long so he should reap the benefits of it while he could.
Severus Snape woke up looking worse for wear. His Luna Lovegood couture shirt was ruined, his hair was wet and he had bags under his eyes. He could only remember small parts of the previous night, such as being in a dinghy and going across a sea for ages and not feeling too good throughout the journey.
He didn’t usually get sea sick though, so it must have another cause. He wracked his brain trying to identify who did this to him, piecing together the fragments of the night before. The last thing he could remember clearly was Lucius massaging sun cream into his leg, and then being given a drink…
The drink. It must have been alcoholic. There could be no other explanation for this behaviour; Severus was a rational man so something like this was out of the ordinary. It just seemed like something Lucius would do. That man still didn’t stop being a sneaky Slytherin even in Spain.
He stormed into the living room already to vent his anger and such, but found no one there. Severus ran around all of the rooms in there, but found that he was all by himself. Deciding that he might actually have to venture out of the hotel room in his hung-over state, he grabbed a pair of sunglasses and a sunhat to shield him from the glaring lens of any waiting paparazzi ready to put him in the ‘Worse for Wear’ column.
Trundling down the corridor, he reached the awaiting lift and pressed the button marked with 0. He began humming the tune to Fliegerlied which one of the German’s had been singing last night. It proved to be a rather catchy song, and he was almost going to start doing the dance which went with it, but the doors to the lift opened revealing the reception.
A pair of Brits who looked like sunburnt sausages, were hanging onto one another for dear life. They were still warbling away at a karaoke set despite no one being in the audience. Taking on Whitney Houston’s classics while inebriated with alcohol was never a good idea, Severus thought bitterly.
He marched towards the door leading to the outside and saw all three of them lying on deckchairs by the pool. Lucius was pulling some sort of lewd pose which earned him a rapture of applause from Voldemort and even a slight smile from Bellatrix.
He stormed over to them, wincing slightly at the power of the sun, ready to vent his anger. “Have you quite recovered, Severus? I need to get started on my designs for the spring collection, and I can’t do it if I'm museless,” Voldemort said rather tenderly for him.
“No, I have not. I will not be subjected to this treatment anymore. I quit.” Severus stamped his foot for measure and even whipped his hair back and forth.
“What are you talking about, you can’t quit, I need you!” Voldemort exclaimed.
“I will not be embarrassed or mistreated for any longer, so I am leaving. There was an opening for a muse at Harry’s Hipsters. I applied for it, and they accepted me. They’re based in St. Tropez which is interesting and warm, unlike Wiltshire.” Snape smirked at Lucius at this point who returned to lying normally on the deckchair. “I’m going to be a global star and travel all round the world. They’re letting me model too, so I’ll be in New York, Milan and Paris fashion week, not just London where I had to sit next to you and not model.”
“But, I could give you that and more! Anything Severus, anything. I’ll give you a plane, a ship, a car so you can travel all round the world. I’ll put you in Tokyo and London fashion week too. I’ll give you a global campaign which would take you anywhere. Anything, Severus!”
Voldemort dropped to his knees to show how sincere he was, but Snape merely laughed at him. First of all, he looked ridiculously in that pair of fluorescent pink speedos. Secondly, he was done with this has been and only having national fame. He wanted to be an internationally superstar who was worshipped in all four corners of the globe.
“Bye Voldemort. It was nice while it lasted.” Snape sauntered back over to the reception and slammed the door to it in their faces. Now that was an exit.
Voldemort stormed into the travel agents ready to vent his anger. He had forced the other two to return from Ibiza with him straight away. He was too distraught with the betrayal of his muse, to remain there any longer. How could Severus do such a thing?
That, and not nearly enough people knew about his fabulous brand over there. Perhaps Harry’s Hipsters had got it right with international fashion shows and maybe he should break away from London and venture across the pond. As long as it took away the memory of Severus and what he did to him it would be fine.
He spotted the travel agent who served him before and got the wrath of Lord Voldemort ready. “Because of you I have lost my muse, my company is in tatters and I need to escape the country. Sort my life out.”
The travel agent gave a nervous chuckle before beginning to tap angrily at the computer. “Er, there’s an available seat on a flight to New York with Scottish Air which leaves tomorrow, would you like that, er, Lord Voldemort?”
Voldemort would have done a jump of joy if his knees weren’t damaged. He had learnt that Bellatrix was a terrible driver and had a fondness for hitting the breaks dramatically causing the passengers to slide forward and bang into the thing in front. He would be on a nice airline and away from the other two. Bellatrix was a clingy as well as a bad driver. As for Lucius, blondes always seemed to annoy him.
“That would be wonderful. I’ve heard New York is a great place to find a muse, so maybe I’ll have more luck there.” Voldemort even waited patiently for his boarding pass and paid the exact amount when asked to. Hopefully, this trip would be a more successful one.
Author’s Note: Most of you probably didn’t get the Fliegerlied thing which is an awesome song by Tim Toupet, so I highly recommend watching it on Youtube. The part about Snape whipping his hair back and forth is a nod towards the song, Whip My Hair, by Willow Smith. Rights to both of those songs belong to the artist and not me!
The line, ‘Wir kommen aus Deutschland und wir lieben zum Ferien!‘ means we come from Germany and we love to party. Fliegerlied means aviator song. You can use any cheap, budget airline for Quick Ways but if you’re from the UK, you probably already have two in mind :P Reviews would be awesome!
Other Similar Stories
Ruins of Camelot
by Mozarts C...
The Trick Is...