A/N: This is the second chapter. This a/n is redundant.

He stared. He gaped. He blinked in disbelief. His skin itched from the strange scratchy surface. He spluttered unintelligibly and managed out the words "Dumbledore", "Dead" and "Bacon", causing the infernal old man to burst into warm laughter.

"Yes", he said gently, perching on his haunches and clasping his shoulder firmly, "We are dead."

Within seconds everything that was his being came flooding back to him, and all he could think of was the breakfast he'd never got to finish before he'd felt the last vestiges of his Horcrux leave him.
"But why..." he motioned to Dumbledore's ridiculously colourful Hawaiian shirt and then pulled himself frantically into a seated position and peered around at his surroundings.

The entire time he had been lying comfortably upon beautiful white sand, and ahead of him was nothing but turquoise ocean and azure sky. It suddenly clicked that the whooshy sound he had heard earlier had been the waves lapping upon the perfect shore. Voldemort cleared his throat and said hoarsely, "If this is hell, then I wonder what heaven looks like."

Dumbledore broke into peals of laughter, and then joined him sitting in the sand.

"Why am I here, you ask? Well, because I want to be. That's right! I waited for Harry, and I then waited for you. Why did I wait for you? To do what I should have done when you were a child."

"This is a very strange dream, I must say" Voldemort stated, ignoring Dumbledore completely.

"No, no, no!", Dumbledore laughed, "This is no dream, my boy."

"Oh, it is a dream. Most certainly."

"Er-" Dumbledore attempted.

"A very strange elaborate dream-"

"Ah, but-" Dumbledore attempted once again.

"-that doesn't make much sense but has been brought on by the stress I have been feeling as of late-"

"Uh, noo-" Dumbledore raised his finger and then lowered it again.

"-due to my taking over the world and tracking Potter and my Horcruxes" Voldemort finished calmly, doing his best to completely ignore his bearded companion.

"Look, Tom, we're dead. Very, very, very dead. Very, very, very not living. Finito. Caput. Bugs on a windshield", said Dumbledore.

"How do I know you're lying?", Voldemort asked haughtily.

"Because of this" Dumbledore whispered dramatically and looked deeply into the red eyes of the Dark Lord that had killed so many.

It wasn't certain what Voldemort saw in the dephs of Dumbledore's shining blue eyes, but it is indeed safe to say that whatever he did see was ethereal, convincing and astonishingly fancy. It simply must have been that way, as after a few seconds of mindless staring, Voldemort's mouth hung agape and his eyes were as wide and round as pie dishes. All he could say were unrelated sounds of multipurpose gibberish that were neither brilliant nor informative, but they did effectively indicate his feelings on the sure matter of his death. Dumbledore cautiously poked the pale shoulder of his colleague to evaluate his mental state, and found it frightningly frail. This was to be expected though, so he decided to illuminate the poor man on his reason for exsisting where he was.

"Er, right. So I'm here because your soul needs some serious repairing. Honestly, seven pieces? What were you thinking... Anyway. I'm here to sort of... Re-teach you to be a good person so that your soul may be saved and so that you can maybe have another chance at life, you know? So I suppose they're kind of like... Life-lessons. Well, they can't exactly be called 'life-lessons', now could they?"

"Dead" Voldemort repeated and twitched.

"Yes, quite dead, dead as a doornail- How about we call them..."

"As a doornail" Voldemort repeated, and twitched.

"Yes, we're pushing up daisies, the both of us- how about we call them... 'Tidbits of Important Information that One Should Remember Always'?"

"Daisies" Voldemort muttered, and shook.

"Yes, yes" said Dumbledore patiently, "We've kicked the bucket. Do you like that name?"

"S'too long" Voldemort commented monotonously, "Kicked the bucket...."

"Oh, alright. How about... 'Post-Mortem Lessons'?"

Voldemort jerked his head in a vaguely vertical direction, and Dumbledore was forced to take it as an affirmative. Dumbledore smiled and slapped his thighs approvingly. Not wanting to waste any time, he lifted himself from the warm sand, stretched and peered heroically into the distance for a moment before continuing in a voice reminiscent of Superman.

"Well, my friend! We must get started, the quicker you learn, the better!" Dumbledore turned back to his companion, continuing, "The first things first, you've got to..." he trailed off as he observed his companion, who was staring forewards with the stony glazed gaze of a deer in headlights, twitching every few seconds.

"Uh... Perhaps a brandy is in order first" Dumbledore corrected.

A/N: Review mofos.