Chapter #Something: I'M FINE!
DISCLAIMER: Okay, I OBVIOUSLY can't claim anything from Harry Potter because I'M WRITING ON A FREAKING FAN FICTION WEBSITE! I'll never understand why people write disclaimers for Harry Potter when they write it under Harry Potter fan fiction! Anyways, I don't own Jennifer Lopez or anything she takes it into her head to do. But I'm pretty happy about that. Neither do I own Go Fug Yourself – but I could die happy if I did.
A/N: I used three swear words! Gaspolats! There it is … In the open … for all to see …
Fenrir was waiting behind the cabin in the woods while Voldemort paced back and forth in the cabin and Snape stared out the window to keep a watch on the old werewolf.
Voldemort wasn't himself. He should be sitting serenely but menacingly in a moth-eaten armchair. Not pacing! Not nervous! But that's what he was doing, never the less. Because of that damn Jennifer Lopez, his reputation was at stake. It had come to this. He was at the mercy of the bootylicious nature of one muggle singer. He had arrived in Beardsley Forest hours before he had needed to, and made himself (and Snape) agitated by playing This is me ... Then. Again. And again. And ag -- It was to remind him of the atrocities Jennifer Lopez had forced him into. Voldemort needed motivation if he was going to fearlessly give Fenrir the signal.
He'd have to do it quickly. They hadn't brought Ben Affleck. Partly because he wasn't exactly necessary and muggles were annoying, but mostly because Jennifer Garner had refused to relinquish him.
Just as Snape was about to curse the CD player into oblivion (It was bad enough having to go on a ridiculous mission such as this, but having to endure Dumbledore cackling away at the last Order meeting on hearing what Voldemort's current adventures were … it was too much.), they could hear Land Rover tires grinding against the road. A creation of America kicking Nature to the curb -- she never had a chance. If there had been hair on Voldemort's pasty white and ghastly neck it would have stood up, but there wasn't any so we'll have to save that for another day. In any case, his heart was doing a wild tribal dance to kettle drums and his hands started to shake.
He hadn't been so excited since he had Cruciatus Cursed Potter in the graveyard!
But Voldemort just clenched his hand and gulped down his colossal apprehension. He strode over to the door and stood beside it where the door would swing infront of Voldemort to hide himself when they first walked in, so he could be properly frightening.
Outiside, Jennifer Lopez was silent apart from her foot steps.
Hold on, thought Voldemort. Has she intoxicated herself? Why are her footsteps so sloppy? He squinted at the far wall while he thought and then realized - she wasn't alone! That accursed, miserable, lying, cheating, treachorous, toad pus encrusted --
The door opened.
Someone gasped.
Voldemort then realized that Jennifer Lopez had glimpsed Snape -- a slouching, leering, oily, pale, crooked, Dickensian man -- slumping all over the window sill, and that must have been what surprised her. It was now or never! Voldemort stepped sideways into the door so that it swung shut. Jennifer Lopez started and spun around. Then she gasped again when she saw him. Voldemort wasn't a pleasant sight in a dark cabin in the middle of Beardsley Forest.
Marc Antony was with her. MARC ANTONY! Voldemort wasn't so much outraged as amused. There, that was the old cunning Voldie-Shorts back. What could a C-List salsa dancer do to foil up his plans? Voldemort wasn't so worried anymore. And just look at her! She was hardly exuding confidence. Jennifer was wearing all black with simply straight hanging hair.
Voldemort leaned back to get the full effect. "Girl, I could have dressed up better for a hostage swap! Ha!"
Jennifer Lopez sulked and turned to Marc Antony. "See! I told you I should have worn the sequin harness!"
Marc Antony turned away and imitated her in a murmuring (ahem, sugarbabe) high-pitched voice, "Sequin harness! Sequin harness!" He sank down to his usually pitch, which wasn't a large drop, for the record, "Why don't you shut up about the sequin harness!"
"I would if you could dress me better then Vol--"
"Don't you dare say he's a better dresser than me! Don't! Don't!" Marc Antony smacked his hands over his ears and started humming a song. A Jennifer Lopez song -- Get Right. "You're looking just a little too hard at me, standin' just a little too close to me --"
"You better stop singing right now," said Voldemort in his coldest voice. Infact, it could be categorized as Iceacious #14
"Look Voldie," said Jennifer Lopez, cutting the chase. "I'm going to cut to the chase. I'm not exactly sure why you're here, but we've come to collect Ben Affleck, and we'll just, yeah, like, do that, and then, you know, go ..."
"No, I don't think so," said Voldemort slowly.
Jennifer smiled insinserely. "I've really got to go, Voldie. We should catch up real soon! But I've just got sooo much stuff going on, you know! Like, my new show, South Beach, and three movies coming up! Three! But I'm still totally down to earth, you know. I'm from the Bronx!"
"Enough," said Voldemort loudly, cutting right into her ramblefest. Jennifer fell silent, even her backside wilted.
He looked over at Snape and nodded curtly. Snape turned back to the window, and in that moment the signal had been given.
"I have Affleck," said Voldemort.
Jennifer Lopez gasped and clapped her hands to her mouth. Voldemort didn't see how he'd been able to handle all the gasping before.
"Where the hell is he?" demanded Marc Antony.
Voldemort looked disdainfully over at him. He looked at this patchy facial hair, and baggy cargo pants and sandals. Privately he thought, Try running in those JACKASS!
"He is outside. In the trees."
"Take me to him!" screeched Jennifer Lopez suddenly, her bottom wilted no more. Indeed, it was in full flower.
"Ladies first," said Voldemort, motioning serenely. But he was actually grinding his teeth together in agitation. He watched her behind flounce out the door, trying not to show a hint of fear, but feeling it in full force. Her buttocksulars still struck fear in his heart.
Outside, Jennifer squinted at the trees behind the cabin. "I see a guy … But he doesn't look like Ben …"
Voldemort said, "He is. He's put on some weight."
"Ha!" said Jennifer Lopez. "He never could survive without me. Once you look at these babies –" she ran her fingers over her abs "—you just can get enough of me." She sighed luxuriously, "I'm so beautiful."
"As I was saying, Ben Affleck is that way," interrupted Voldemort.
"C'mon honey! Oh my God, has this day really come?" exclaimed Jennifer and with Marc Antony's hand in hers, dashed towards the line of trees.
On plunging into the woods, everything was so much darker and Jennifer found that Ben wasn't in clear view anymore.
"Ben," she said sternly. "Come out. Now." She expected him to scamper out of hiding with his tail between his legs like all those other times. But all she heard was some indistinct growling and she gawked around to try and find its source.
It had come from behind her – a crowd of things. Some of them were wolf-ish looking beings, others were globby, dirty, sweating, scabby people. Their leader, as Jennifer Lopez assumed the dirtiest, globbiest, sweatiest, and scabbiest one of them would be, smiled heartily at her with a sinister twist to his lips.
"Hello pretty."
Jennifer Lopez waited in her Land Rover with a gut-crunching feeling of despair. There was no Ben Affleck.
Now that they were back in civilization, Marc had gone to buy her some MacDonalds to calm her nerves.
Jennifer leaned her head against the heavily tinted window and watched him walk through the parking lot to their car. How could Voldie have done this? If he didn't want to write her songs anymore he could've just said so! And then she could have just strangled him with her rear end without all these back room deals. Why does everyone cheat on me, Jennifer wondered disconsolately.
"I'm such a victim," she sighed.
Marc Antony opened the car door just as literally tens of paparazzi jumped out from behind unsuspecting bushes and road barriers to start snapping photos and barraging the couple with questions.
Marc Antony half-turned to the cameramen with a dazed smile on his face, waving casually. His eye was twitching.
"Marc! Jen! What have you guys been up to?"
"Why are your clothes ripped and torn?"
"Are you starting a new line, Jen?"
"What a little trendsetter!"
"I love that new hairstyle – ripped out in chunks –"
"Marc! Are you okay?"
"Why is there blood on your shirt?"
"Why do you have such a deplorable fashion sense?"
Marc Antony laughed and continued waving. "No, no, everyone. I'm fine! I'm fine. Nothing to see here! Just bringing my wife a Big Gulp. No, no, I told you, I'm fine. Seriously, I'm totally fine. No – I don't need that IV drip. I mean it. Back off with that shit. I don't need the sugar water. I'M FINE. Yeah, so maybe I got chased her by a pack of rabid wolves who ripped off the bottom of my shirt. So what? Nothing I can't handle. Me and my Jesus sandals and my raggedy-ass facial hair have never been better. Just here visiting the wife! Never been better! She and I are right as rain! There's no crying about the bitch Garner in my house, no siree! We're both a-okay, and that's not blood on the back of my shirt. Not at all. So step off."
He laughed his merry way into the driver's seat and slammed the door. Then he feel apart – sobbing and drooling all over the steering wheel.
Jennifer stared at the mound of wounds that was her husband. "You still have your thumbs," offered Jennifer helpfully. "That's what makes us human … or something."
"Yeah," said Marc, ungratefully looking at his two remaining fingers. "I'll never salsa again."
"Yeah, I guess," said Jennifer. "But atleast I had the good sense to use your body as a shield to get away from those – those wolvie – things – and get back to the car. To protect my abs, you know."
"Yeah, that was some good problem solving."
"Yeah – I'm Jenny from the Block. You know, the Bronx. That's where I get all my mad skills from. It makes me down to earth, you know?"
"Jen," said Marc sadly, with a touch of wail and a pinch of morose. "I loved to salsa."
Jennifer looked at him sympathetically for a fleeting moment -- he almost missed it. And then her face hardened with determination. "We're going to get Voldie back for that."
P.S. I'm not fully aware of the proper use of capitalization in mcdonalds (fast food place).
P.S.S. I took a long time writing this parce-que I had a killer Politics test. Which I just wrote today. AND FAILED! Why don't you cheer me up with a review?
Sugarbabe1! YO! YO! YO! Hi. How are you? WHERE THE DIJNON IS THAT CHAPTER FOR POWER OF FOUR? I'm waiting .. glares Anyways, thanks pour les reviews. You're the only one to review Chapter 3! You get a prize! Here it is – SIRIUS BLACK! As to your review: Snape being friends with J.Gar? I don't think Snape likes friends … otherwise him and I would totally hang out EVERYDAY! But he said he wanted his space. SAD FACE! But actually I heard of Marc Antony the emporer before I heard of Marc Antony the singer and then when I heard of the singer I was like – WHAT'S WRONG WITH HIM! WHY WOULD YOU WANT THAT NAME? (But hey, Marc Antony ended up getting totally whipped by his girlfriend, Cleopatra, and then getting killed by his best friend for getting involved with good ol' Cleo. And now you could care less about Marc Antony but everyone knows who Cleopatra is! Coincidence? I think not!) But did you know that Sean Biggerstaff's birthday is on the Ides of March and he says he thought he could be the reincarnation of Julius Caesar. He's so delightful.
LOL, My responses to your reviews are pretty much as long as my reviews on your story! OH, and by the by (lol) I noticed your reviews are long like mine. HA!