A/N: A comedic interlude written during writer's block. I will resume the actual story after this, though I'm tempted to end it here.

"I'm not happy, Minerva. Not happy at all." The man who had spoken reclined on a green and silver ottoman, fingers pinching at the bridge of his aristocratic nose. His dark, tousled hair hung in his eyes, and an expression of deep displeasure was etched across his handsome features. The expression rather suited him; if he had smiled it would have seemed unnatural.

"You and me both, Tom." The lady was standing relatively close to the ottoman, but seemed to spurn the idea of sitting near the man. Her ebony hair was pulled into a tight bun at the crown of her head, giving her pale-skinned face a rather severe look. Her green eyes flashed. "I mean, look at the audacity of our authoress. She can't write a love scene worth crap, the plot of this story is so contrived, and you and I would NEVER have a romance. Not even a twisted one seated in manipulation. I would never fall for that."

"I would never find you attractive." Tom Riddle raised an eyebrow. "Never really noticed, if I may be quite honest. We didn't know the other existed back in the school days, did we?"

"I did, but that was only because a good deal of the girls stalked you," Minerva McGonagall said with a blasé shrug. "Not to mention I was Head Girl when you were a prefect."

"Ah yes. I'd forgotten."

The two frowned at the teenage girl who stood in the center of the room. "Care to explain yourself?" Minerva crossed her arms, adding to her severe appearance.

"Well.. I always loved the pairing... It could have happened! Please, just go OUT with each other! You might enjoy yourselves!" She paled as Riddle stood up, coming to stand near Minerva. "Don't crucio me..."

"You can't write worth a damn."

"Your love scenes will be nauseating."

"We're completely out of character for the whole fic."

"Your plot has NO suspense whatsoever."

"After reading this, I wanted to vomit."

"After reading this, I wanted to kill you, slowly and painfully. What kind of IDIOT would make toucans a horcrux defense?" This last was said by Riddle, coupled with frantic gesticulation and a wild look in the eye.

"I-I just-"

"Never write again." Minerva spat in contempt. "Do you even have a life? How about some friends? Do you hole yourself up in your room for hours at a time to write this- this shit?"

"I do happen to have friends, thank you!" the girl snapped indignantly, brushing her black hair behind her shoulders. She looked on the verge of tears, having been mercilessly ripped apart by two of her favorite characters. "And some of them seem to really enjoy my story!"

"People lie," Riddle said coldly. "Get used to it. Have you even read Pottermore? There's no mention of me in Minerva's backstory. Doesn't that pretty much mean we had nothing to do with one another?"

The girl had a response this time. "I got the concept for the story before Pottermore, and I started before people could even sign up early. There!" She crossed her arms, her rounded face triumphant.

"You're writing a bloody self insert. That means even you aren't happy with the direction your 'story'-" he spat out the word condescendingly- "is taking."

Minerva noticed the girl's distress and took pity on her. "Tom, I think you've done enough." She turned back to the girl, and tried to quell her raging feelings of annoyance. "Listen, I think you have some promise as a fanfiction writer. You just need to learn how to make a plot, how to keep people in character, and how to write. Because frankly, what you've done so far isn't awful."

"It just isn't good, either," Riddle sneered.

Minerva shot him a filthy look. "Silencio," she said, pointing her wand at him. "Anyway, as I was saying, you aren't the worst author out there. And you could probably find some losers who would praise this crap. It'll boost your morale. But if you really want to improve, you have to hear this from us." She patted the girl's shoulder. "Okay?"

The girl nodded. "I understand."

Minerva smiled. "Good! Now then-"

"But didn't you guys like each other at all? There must have been some chemistry-"

"That's IT! I've had enough of her!" Riddle was violently angry now. "You want to see chemistry? I'll bloody well SHOW you chemistry!" He seized Minerva by the waist, and proceeded to have a rather citrusy make out scene that the authoress lacks the ability or talent to write effectively.

Not really. He just crucio'd the shit out of the authoress and left her in a quivering puddle of her own despair. Minerva finally restrained him, and sent him off to canonity where Riddle promptly went underground and made horcruxes in Albania. Minerva resumed teaching at Hogwarts, later marrying Elphinstone, proving Voldy just wasn't her type. The authoress retreated into her dank depression as she was once again forcefully reminded that the pairing she loved could never be and never was.

THEEND

(notreally)