Harry Potter was allowed to recover his sanity early the next morning, just in time for the usual melee that is breakfast time in a school. He refused to speak with Hermione (which, to be honest, suited the bushy-haired one just fine, as she was attached at the hip to some other randomly Sorted fan-person), and instead tried to get Ron's attention. It wasn't working well, because Ron's attention was completely, utterly, 100% absorbed by one of the randomly Sorted girls. After discovering that the magickal scar on his forehead was rendered completely useless by the power of the Fan People, Harry Potter stalked out of the breakfast hall and magickally forced time forward a few hours so he could brood near the lake and perhaps get SOMEONE's attention.
Unfortunately, when he reached the lake, it was already crowded with students. This did not suit Harry Potter well, as they weren't paying attention to him. He managed to elbow his way to the front to discover (to much titillation) that the beautiful (but EVIL) EL was having a round with the new improvised DADA teacher. Harry Potter didn't like the new DADA teacher at all--she was mean and nasty to him (though how he knew that when he'd yet to go to class is beyond those of us in the normal realm). He hoped EL would win. In the mean time, he mentally wrote up the long and excrutiatingly detailed account of the fight, as follows:
"EL, in her delicious wickedness, had grabbed the front of Professor Ryong's robes and was making a very good attempt to throw the older woman into the icy cold waters. I know the waters were icy cold because her nipples were visible, even through the thick material of her uniform. She was soaked from head to toe, fabric clinging sinfully to every delicious curve of her too-mature body. The muscles in her legs were taut and glistened with sweat, indicating a very serious battle at hand. Her eyes blazed with fury, and a faint trail of blood could be seen seeping from one delicate nostril of her adorable flared nose. Her lips were parted and teeth visible, except when she paused to yell. When that happened, her mouth opened wide, and it seemed as though his entire world could fit in there...though how to find that out, he wasn't sure. At last she managed to fling the teacher into the water (and since Professor Ryong wasn't at all attractive, she doesn't warrant an excrutiatingly detailed account), and declared her victory. Then that stupid fathead Snape broke onto the scene, helped Ryong out of the water, took poor EL by the arm very roughly, and dragged her off. I hate Snape. I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I--"
Okay, that's enough of that. Everyone who doesn't want to ever take another trip into Harry Potter's mind, please raise your hand and keep it raised for the duration of the chapter.
Anyways, Harry Potter followed Snape and EL back to Snape's wicked dungeon lair. He would rescue the fair Slytherin damesel and maybe then she'd cut him a little slack. He didn't barge into the office, of course, because barging in would have meant that he would miss whatever secret little naughty things they were doing. So he waited outside the door, eye pressed firmly to the crack that Snape had conveniently left. He almost passed out again from what he witnessed--but Hermione and Draco's one-night slash had fortified him against such horrible sights.
Snape was out of his robe (it being wrapped around EL to ward off the vicious chill that seems to permeate every dungeon), hands on his slender waist, and anger mottling (but not ugly-fying) his sexy face. "WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT ALL ABOUT!" he roared.
EL was the picture of sexy defiance. "That bitch was making moves on my man, so I busted a move on her skanky ass and sent her packing back to the street corner she hobbled off on, yo."
"Your ebonics has lost me completely, as I am BRITISH and we don't have that kind of nonsense HERE." Snape pointed out.
"Her obvious fatal attraction to you irked me, so I beat the holy bloody hell out of her to make sure she got the message." Sydney translated.
"Oh. Well you know you're not supposed to beat up on teachers." Snape was at a loss for words. That was one of the problems with voluntarily boffing a fanfic artist. They tended to take the words right out of his mouth.
"I know darling, but she almost got beyond my control, even though this is the first time I've written of her, and I had to do something." EL pouted. "Don't you care that I risked a paper cut for you?"
He swept her up in his arms, feeling both compelled and delighted to do so. "Of course I do darling. Now allow me to make sweet, passionate love to you right on this desk." Snape said as he used one arm to sweep everything off his desk and deposited her on it.
"Like I'd ever say no." EL purred.
Harry Potter was at a loss for words. He hadn't seen anything so savage since last month's issue of "Witch Bitches" and "Big Wands, Big Spells". He was thoroughly enjoying himself until the overhead music switched from "bow-chicka-wow-wow" to "dun-dun-DUN". That was his clue that he should zip up and run like hell in the opposite direction for dear life. However, Harry Potter did not get famous by listening to common sense. He stayed.
AN: Okay darling dearest duckies--for those of you who emailed me to get some clarification on points, here goes: I'm making fun of everything from poorly written fanfiction to poorly written SLASH-fiction. It's not going to make sense, it's not going to be clean, and it's not going to be fun...okay, I lied; it'll be fun as all get-out. Just don't expect any logic. Ta!
Unfortunately, when he reached the lake, it was already crowded with students. This did not suit Harry Potter well, as they weren't paying attention to him. He managed to elbow his way to the front to discover (to much titillation) that the beautiful (but EVIL) EL was having a round with the new improvised DADA teacher. Harry Potter didn't like the new DADA teacher at all--she was mean and nasty to him (though how he knew that when he'd yet to go to class is beyond those of us in the normal realm). He hoped EL would win. In the mean time, he mentally wrote up the long and excrutiatingly detailed account of the fight, as follows:
"EL, in her delicious wickedness, had grabbed the front of Professor Ryong's robes and was making a very good attempt to throw the older woman into the icy cold waters. I know the waters were icy cold because her nipples were visible, even through the thick material of her uniform. She was soaked from head to toe, fabric clinging sinfully to every delicious curve of her too-mature body. The muscles in her legs were taut and glistened with sweat, indicating a very serious battle at hand. Her eyes blazed with fury, and a faint trail of blood could be seen seeping from one delicate nostril of her adorable flared nose. Her lips were parted and teeth visible, except when she paused to yell. When that happened, her mouth opened wide, and it seemed as though his entire world could fit in there...though how to find that out, he wasn't sure. At last she managed to fling the teacher into the water (and since Professor Ryong wasn't at all attractive, she doesn't warrant an excrutiatingly detailed account), and declared her victory. Then that stupid fathead Snape broke onto the scene, helped Ryong out of the water, took poor EL by the arm very roughly, and dragged her off. I hate Snape. I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I HATE SNAPE I--"
Okay, that's enough of that. Everyone who doesn't want to ever take another trip into Harry Potter's mind, please raise your hand and keep it raised for the duration of the chapter.
Anyways, Harry Potter followed Snape and EL back to Snape's wicked dungeon lair. He would rescue the fair Slytherin damesel and maybe then she'd cut him a little slack. He didn't barge into the office, of course, because barging in would have meant that he would miss whatever secret little naughty things they were doing. So he waited outside the door, eye pressed firmly to the crack that Snape had conveniently left. He almost passed out again from what he witnessed--but Hermione and Draco's one-night slash had fortified him against such horrible sights.
Snape was out of his robe (it being wrapped around EL to ward off the vicious chill that seems to permeate every dungeon), hands on his slender waist, and anger mottling (but not ugly-fying) his sexy face. "WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT ALL ABOUT!" he roared.
EL was the picture of sexy defiance. "That bitch was making moves on my man, so I busted a move on her skanky ass and sent her packing back to the street corner she hobbled off on, yo."
"Your ebonics has lost me completely, as I am BRITISH and we don't have that kind of nonsense HERE." Snape pointed out.
"Her obvious fatal attraction to you irked me, so I beat the holy bloody hell out of her to make sure she got the message." Sydney translated.
"Oh. Well you know you're not supposed to beat up on teachers." Snape was at a loss for words. That was one of the problems with voluntarily boffing a fanfic artist. They tended to take the words right out of his mouth.
"I know darling, but she almost got beyond my control, even though this is the first time I've written of her, and I had to do something." EL pouted. "Don't you care that I risked a paper cut for you?"
He swept her up in his arms, feeling both compelled and delighted to do so. "Of course I do darling. Now allow me to make sweet, passionate love to you right on this desk." Snape said as he used one arm to sweep everything off his desk and deposited her on it.
"Like I'd ever say no." EL purred.
Harry Potter was at a loss for words. He hadn't seen anything so savage since last month's issue of "Witch Bitches" and "Big Wands, Big Spells". He was thoroughly enjoying himself until the overhead music switched from "bow-chicka-wow-wow" to "dun-dun-DUN". That was his clue that he should zip up and run like hell in the opposite direction for dear life. However, Harry Potter did not get famous by listening to common sense. He stayed.
AN: Okay darling dearest duckies--for those of you who emailed me to get some clarification on points, here goes: I'm making fun of everything from poorly written fanfiction to poorly written SLASH-fiction. It's not going to make sense, it's not going to be clean, and it's not going to be fun...okay, I lied; it'll be fun as all get-out. Just don't expect any logic. Ta!