The One Called Wormtail (who is in fact, not a rat) and the Wax Debacle
Drabble One: The One Called Wormtail (who is in fact, not a rat) and the Wax Debacle
The Dark Lord found himself lounging upon a chaise lounge. With the fire roaring beatifically, he was almost able to pretend the smoking carcass of an unruly Dementor was a part of the general ambiance.
As he lackadaisically twirled the wretched thing’s knucklebone around his ring finger like a fidget toy, he was instantly reminded of another overbaked, shriveled husk of being that he had not seen in as many hours.
Speaking to the darkened library-cum-throne room, he asked, “Where is Lucius? I require his presence.”
Seemingly feeling brave for the very first time, his animagus answered on the assembled’s behalf. Wormtail bit his lip, “Unfortunately, sir, Lucius will not be in today. I don’t know if you recall approving his PTO request?”
“What?”
Nagini hissed and nodded her head, “Yes, my lord, the-rat-who-is-not is correct.”
“Where is he?” Voldemort whispered and the entire room stilled.
Wormtail, frightened as ever, replied, “Getting a Mankini Wax, sir.”
“What in Morgana’s chapped lips is a… Man...kini?”
“A complicated procedure from what I understand; very popular with the male muggles. Apparently, it is some sort of torture treatment that makes a person very desirable to one’s intended partner after the swelling subsides.”
Voldemort pinched his nose then changed direction when remembering he didn’t actually have one and settled for the collapsed bridge that hinted that there was a time when he in fact did have nostrils.
“Every day, I find myself less and less connected with this current generation.”
The magnificent snake quickly gave up trying to decipher what the Rat-she-is-not-allowed-to eat said. Instead, Nagini blinked as best she could to show her confusion, considering her lack of lids. She’d heard somewhere that humans rather liked it when you mimicked their actions.
“As am I sir, as am I.”
When her lord did not respond to her, Nagini resumed licking the sinew off the bones of a griffin? Small child? She honestly couldn’t remember but she would be putting in a complaint to the house-elves about the overuse of seasoning and overall declining quality of meat as of late.
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