?

Log in

No account? Create an account
 
 
20 August 2006 @ 12:02 am
crucio_4_coffee, prompt 25: tongue  
Title: Serpent in the Ministry
Author: crucio_4_coffee
Length: app 2100
Prompt: 25, tongue
LJ Disclaimer: All characters used in my fictional stories, fanfic or original, are at least 18 years-old and have no intentions of harming the president of the United States. They're not big fans of LJ, though.
Pairing: Harry/Tom
a/n: Crack!fic and Dark!fic got together and had a baby. This is theatre of the absurd.



Serpent in the Ministry


The Ministry of Magic is made up entirely of idiots. They’ve lost their minds, every last one of them, and Harry is finding himself ironically sympathetic to the aspirations, or at least the frustrations of one Dark Lord T. “Voldemort” Riddle. It is no wonder that Tom had wanted to take over so badly – the incompetence at the ministerial level obviously knows no bounds. Did Harry mention that they were all idiots? He did? Well, it’s worth repeating then.

“You sound more and more like me every day, Harry,” Tom says with a smirk, but Harry can tell that Tom Riddle is as annoyed with this as he is. Harry smiles inwardly. At least some good is coming of this… trip.

Funny things happen when one tampers with a human soul. More specifically, when a person decides to kill another person as to purposefully rip their own soul into fragments and house them in fancy-pants relics, the likelihood of a cock-up on a massive scale increases exponentially. Take Tom Riddle, for example. Master manipulator, certainly – very powerful wizard, without question – perfect eyesight? Well, just hang on a minute there. It would appear that Tom didn’t read the incantation properly when he created his horcruxes, (“They didn’t know how to diagnose dyslexia in those days, alright!?!”), and botched a few things up royally. Now, it's turned out well for him because he is alive, even after Harry Potter shot down ole’ Red Eyes himself with the Killing Curse, the Entrails Expelling Curse, Sectumsempra, Rictusempra, the Bat-Bogey hex and the Levitation Charm, (leaving him dead, gutsy, bloody, giggling, snotty, and floating somewhere south of Wick). But Harry Potter isn't especially thrilled with the situation at all.

Somehow, a Horcrux that Harry had missed had taken its cue somewhere between “Wingardium” and “Leviosa” and spit a twenty-something version of Tom Marvolo Riddle out of the Black Family Tapestry located at 12 Grimmaud Place. When Harry returned home from the final battle, the first thing he saw was our man Tom having a peaceful conversation with the portrait of Walburga Black. Riddle had very little memory of his former self – mostly just a superior attitude, and surprisingly less magical ability than when he was alive. A lot less ability, in fact, almost none when compared to Harry Potter. Or Neville Longbottom. Or a first year squib-born previously Obliviated Hufflepuff. Now, he can’t Apparate, he can’t fly a broom, and portkeys and use of the Floo Network make him vomit like a new drinker attempting a pub crawl.

So here’s the quandary in which the Ministry finds itself today. Technically, this Tom Riddle, as he exists post-Horcrux, hasn’t done anything wrong. He hasn’t committed a single crime. He isn’t even much of a threat, really, since his magical abilities don’t go very far past Parseltongue and conjuring weak coffee. Still, no one in the wizarding world wants Tom Riddle living and roaming free in Europe. He makes people nervous, and the Ministry can’t have that. So there’s only one thing left to do – send him quietly to America and let them deal with him. Of course, he’ll have to travel by airplane, since magical transportation doesn’t mesh with his new sensibilities. Naturally, there is only one man whom the Ministry trusts to escort Tom to the United States.

Harry. Fucking. Potter.

“I wonder why all of these people are staring?” Tom ponders aloud, as he and Harry take their seats next to one another in the business class section of the airplane. Harry rolls his eyes and fastens his safety belt.

“Probably because I have this enormous fuck-off scar shaped like a bolt of lightning on my forehead. They aren’t exactly common,” Harry mumbles pointedly. This new Tom obviously still does not get that Harry does not like him. He probably remembers having charisma, Harry thinks to himself, and wonders where it all went.

“You could try to be more pleasant,” Tom tells him between the flight attendant’s safety spiel. “I don’t know how many times I have to tell you this, but it was not I who did that to you. I didn’t kill your parents – I killed my parents. I think… did I? That’s a horrible thought, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, well, meet yourself,” says Harry skeptically, noticing that Tom has clutched his arm during take-off. “Get your hands off me.”

Tom has gone stark white and his brow sweats profusely. “I don’t like this flying business at all!”

”Say, is that you, Barney? You look smashing! Have you lost weight?”

Harry looks around, as does Tom.

“Did you say something?” Harry asks, and Tom shakes his head.

“Only that I don’t like flying.”

They both shrug, but Tom still seems uneasy from take-off and is still clutching Harry’s arm. Harry decides that it is easier to ignore Tom, whose grip finally slackens as the plane begins to level. Seeing Tom Riddle’s face frozen in pure terror is worth having his arm slightly mauled.

Dude, where the fuck are we? I must have been seriously high last night!

Tom and Harry look at one another again, confused.

“Are you sure you didn’t…”

“That wasn’t me, I tell you!”

The flight attendants serve drinks. Tom starts to order wine, but Harry cuts him off.

“He’ll have nothing… and I’ll have whiskey. Twice.”

“There’s a terrific idea, Harry. Do give me an advantage by allowing yourself to get drunk while my mind stays completely stable,” Tom says, in what Harry thinks might be a purr, and… is he petting my arm?

“I can out-drink you anytime, Riddle,” Harry says defensively as he snatches his arm away. He shakes his head and signals to the flight attendant to bring more booze. They have a good six hours to kill before they reach the States, so what the hell, right? If he has to spend it with Tom Riddle, he might as well do it drunk. Maybe he’ll get lucky and Tom will be every bit of the lightweight that he appears and will pass out after a few rounds.


“And so then I said, ‘Unlike me, you are a git’ and…”

“That rabbit just stared at me all the time, with his beady rabbit eyes! Come on, now, Harry, what would you have…”

“And I knocked Dean right into her, and she thought he pushed her, and sshe ssshplit up with him!”

"You can only tell Myrtle, 'Back off, I like boys,' so many times before you snap. Surely you can relate, Harry..."
...

They are both pretty damned drunk about two hours into the flight, and Harry has to admit that he is very impressed with Riddle’s ability to handle his liquor. He’s even more impressed at Riddle’s ability to be attractive, or wait… no, he’s bothered by Riddle’s being very attractive… wait, no, he isn’t bothered by his attraction to Riddle…

“Bloody buggering hell!” Harry says, finishing the last of his drink and setting it down a bit too heavily on the tray in front of him.

Nigil! Wow, it is you! I haven’t seen you since that mating ball in Kent last year!

Harry finds himself laughing, but there is a niggling feeling in his gut that he shouldn’t be. There was just something so funny what Riddle had just said.

“Harry, who in the devil is this Nigil person? And were you really involved in a mating ball? That’s really really kinky, you know. Maybe when we get to the states, we could stop by a hot-“

A small adder pokes his head up over the side of Harry’s tray table.

“Pardon me, but do either of you have any idea where we are, exactly? My normal habitat is much smaller than this. Say, is that whiskey?”

This time, it is Harry who clutches Tom’s arm, out of sheer surprise as dozens of snakes fall from overhead bins and crawl up from below seats. People around them begin to scream in panic and terror, but Tom and Harry find themselves fascinated with the snakes’ dilemma.

”Belinda, you won’t believe who it is! It’s that cute viper from the herpetology lab. He was at the milking last week. Let’s go say ‘hi!’”

”What on earth is that human man wearing on his feet? If I didn’t know better, I would say that looked just like… oh my god, is that…Frank? Frank! Noooooooo!”

”I’m sick and tired of all these mother fuckin’ humans in this mother fuckin’ zoo! Wait – are we no longer at the zoo?”

This situation is quickly spiraling out of control. Several people have already been bitten by mambas and tai-pan, (”Oh, I’m ever so sorry, love – you see, when you jump like that, you bear a remarkable resemblance to a rabbit!), and other people are throwing everything from handbags to toddlers at the snakes in an effort to “strike first.” A foul mouthed man, who reminds Harry of Kingsley Shacklebolt on too much cocaine, is trying to make a wall out of suitcases.

“We have to stop this,” Harry whispers, and Tom nods in agreement. “We’ll play to our strengths. I’ll promise to save them from whatever they are afraid of…”

“And I’ll promise to them positions of power among the snakes in America, of course. Maybe I can organize them… get them tiny, pointy little masks… I wonder what snakes think about tattoos-“

“Tom…”

“Alright, already! You don’t have to be so pushy, although you are quite lovely when you are determined. Has anyone ever told you that?”

”Tom!”

“Fine! Although I’m beginning to see why I try to kill you so often.”

Tom stands and delivers a very moving speech in Parseltongue, to which all of the snakes listen intently. After a few moments, there is a brief question and answer session, and then the snakes vote to make their way to the cargo hold to spend the rest of the trip in a celebratory mating ball. All except one, that is. Belinda chooses to stay with Tom and Harry, and coils herself in the bottom of Harry’s satchel to take a nap. Harry carefully transfigures the dead bodies into carry-on luggage, and Obliviates the stunned passengers and crew, who are left a little dazed as the plane flies itself the rest of the way to Washington-Dulles. Harry has to use the Imperius curse to get the pilot to safely land the plane and the passengers to disembark without causing any further scenes. Luckily, the Imperius curse isn’t considered Unforgivable in the United States, but he knows he will most likely have to answer for it when he returns to London.

“It really is a good thing that you can hold your liquor,” Tom whispers as their shuttle drops them off at the Park Hyatt.

“Adrenaline,” Harry says. “Thanks to you, I’ve had lots of experience with chaos in my lifetime.”

Harry handles the check-in and procures their room-keys, adjacent rooms on the seventh floor. He tries not to look at Tom, who is marveling at the technology of the lift.

“Whatever made me think Muggles didn’t have magic?” Tom asks. “They fly, they levitate, they talk to one another across great distances…”

“Yes, well, the old you didn’t exactly want to hear about it,” Harry replies. The whiskey and adrenaline both are gone by the time they leave the lift and reach the doors to their rooms. Of course, Tom Riddle has no experience with Muggle hotel keys or locks, and he still hasn’t mastered alohomora. He struggles for a moment before giving Harry a look that Harry actually recognizes. Tom Riddle isn’t asking for his help – he is demanding it, and Harry finds that oddly comforting at the end of one of the most unusual days of his life.

“You do realize, Harry, that left to my own devices over here, I could get into serious trouble. It won’t be as difficult for me to have things my own way as your Ministry likes to think.”

“I’m sure that’s true, Tom,” Harry sighs, as he opens the door to Tom’s room and hands him his key. “Look, just stay out of trouble until tomorrow, so that I can hand you over to the American Wizards Authority and go home, alright?”

Or…” Tom offers, lapsing into Parseltongue as he scoops Belinda out of Harry’s bag and lets her crawl up to his neck, “you could simply stay. You could keep me out of trouble, couldn’t you…

Harry notices that they’ve made their way inside Tom’s room, and never hears the door click behind them as Tom captures his mouth in a kiss.


“Did it work, Minister?”

“It worked perfectly, Weasley! The snakes on the plane were a stroke of pure, unadulterated genius. We’ve finally managed to get rid of both of them.”

Percy smiles. Harry Potter and Tom Riddle are America’s problem, now. He thinks happily of the future – the Ministry is as good as his.







free page hit counter
 
 
 
Kit: riddle: has some serious issuesdamn_my_mind on August 20th, 2006 10:40 am (UTC)
-dead-
crucio_4_coffee on August 21st, 2006 01:32 pm (UTC)
*buries body*
*whistles*
love knows no bounds: Kool-Aidconfiteor_3 on August 20th, 2006 01:43 pm (UTC)
I don't think I've ever laughed so hard on one fic. Oh gods, this is brillient. Tom is awesome. And the ending. :) *loves*
crucio_4_coffee on August 21st, 2006 01:34 pm (UTC)
Thank you!!! You know, this is one of those pairings that I just assumed would be perfect for crackfic, but this damn thing was really difficult to write. (Tom was a total pain in the ass!)
E McGeemelusinahp on August 21st, 2006 11:10 pm (UTC)
"even after Harry Potter shot down ole’ Red Eyes himself with the Killing Curse, the Entrails Expelling Curse, Sectumsempra, Rictusempra, the Bat-Bogey hex and the Levitation Charm, (leaving him dead, gutsy, bloody, giggling, snotty, and floating somewhere south of Wick)." OMG, heee!

Just, all of it. So funny. I couldn't begin to quote all the brilliant bits. Well, I guess I did begin to, but I couldn't finish doing it.

And the ending if fantastic. Icing on the cake. I'm going to read ALL YOUR FICS or at least a bunch of them tomorrow and then I will be your fangirl/minion and you can send me off to kill people who irritate you.
crucio_4_coffee on August 22nd, 2006 12:22 am (UTC)
Wouldn't it be great if LJ had a spot on our profile next to friend and mutual friends for "minions/mutual minions"? *sigh*

I'm so glad you liked this. I'm not kidding when I say it was one of the most challenging fics I've ever written. (2100 words in 1 1/2 hours... and no scotch. ok. maybe a little.) That Tom Riddle is one right bastard to put down on "paper." The snakes were cooperative, thankfully, and Harry didn't care, as long as I got him drunk.
jadzia7667jadzia7667 on August 22nd, 2006 12:53 am (UTC)
Oh. My. God. I'm still laughing. Why haven't I read your stuff before? *wanders off to find more*
crucio_4_coffee on August 22nd, 2006 04:11 am (UTC)
*g* I'm glad you found my story, then! And I'm especially glad it made you laugh!
Gemma: Snakes on a Plane!_outercourse on August 22nd, 2006 01:32 am (UTC)
When you die, people will make you a martyr.

There will be statues erected in your name.

Every day, at about tea time, everyone will get down on their knees and pray to you.

People will sacrifice babies and their enemies for you.

All. Because of this.
crucio_4_coffee on August 22nd, 2006 04:34 am (UTC)
When you die, people will make you a martyr.

Ha. They'll have to find my horcruxes first.

People will sacrifice babies and their enemies for you.

o_0 Oh my. I hope not.

Seriously, thanks, though. I'm glad you got a kick out of it!
mneiai: HP Book Seven--SoaPmneiai on August 22nd, 2006 01:16 pm (UTC)
That...was...awesome.
crucio_4_coffee on August 22nd, 2006 09:24 pm (UTC)
*g* Thank you much!
*agrees with icon*
Ms. Katonic: parseltongue do you speak it?ex_ms_katoni171 on August 22nd, 2006 07:01 pm (UTC)
*howls* Yes, oh yes, oh yes, oh yes, you have made my evening!

Of course, there is only one possible icon to use. ;)
crucio_4_coffee on August 22nd, 2006 09:25 pm (UTC)
*grins broadly* I love that icon so much! *pets icon*
I'm glad you liked the story!
kennahijja: Hexe1kennahijja on August 22nd, 2006 07:28 pm (UTC)
*giggles madly*
And I haven't even figured out the snakes/plane craze that seems to be going 'round, well, apart from the public safety posters. But this was just hilarious - and perfectly written (one 'everyday' aside which might be a typo for purists), and mad, crack fun to read. With one gorgeous last line (you go, Percy, 'cause you deserve it - and they deserve you!). And Harry, out-seduced by wee Tom... love it.

But my favourite line, hands down, is
(leaving him dead, gutsy, bloody, giggling, snotty, and floating somewhere south of Wick).

*giggles more*


crucio_4_coffee on August 22nd, 2006 09:33 pm (UTC)
Thanks for spotting the "everyday" -- *corrects* :)

I'm so glad you enjoyed the fic! I actually just got back from seeing SoaP, so my afternoon will now be spent in a perma-state of WTF, but... yeah, I can totally see that having a Parselmouth on board might have helped those poor folks.

And, *g*, I had to give a shout-out to Wick -- I am a huge, huge fan of Old Pulteney.
heidi∞: Snakeheidi8 on August 22nd, 2006 08:22 pm (UTC)
Brilliant. And someday, there will be music videos, t shirts and drinking games devoted to you and this fic.
crucio_4_coffee on August 22nd, 2006 09:37 pm (UTC)
Thank you :) I had a lot of fun writing this fic, (even though Tom Riddle kept behaving like a bastard during the process). I'm really thankful you enjoyed it!
oddgirlsammieoddgirlsammie on August 23rd, 2006 03:42 am (UTC)
I loved it! I shall add you as my friend and do your evil bidding because of this fic. I have to go read all your other stuff now!
crucio_4_coffee on August 24th, 2006 03:07 pm (UTC)
Aw! Thank you so much! I'm glad you like the story!
snakey on August 23rd, 2006 06:57 am (UTC)
Fantastic. Just...fantastic. (And I love the Yes, Minister/Sir Humphrey-esque Percy at the end....)
crucio_4_coffee on August 24th, 2006 03:09 pm (UTC)
:) So glad you liked it! (And that Percy... only he could out-snake Tom and Harry, I think.)
Aurora Twilight Matsueisiennalyamalor on August 24th, 2006 07:16 am (UTC)
*shakes head* that's definitely the marriage of crack!fic and dark!fic. well done. if i wasn't worried about the neighbors, i know i would've been howling.
crucio_4_coffee on August 24th, 2006 03:13 pm (UTC)
Thanks! I'm glad you noticed the dark!fic side of the story, too. I actually had a hard time keeping this story light, believe it or not. It wanted to go very dark -- I rewrote the ending three times.
Eli/Ellie/ellie_norellie_nor on August 25th, 2006 02:58 pm (UTC)
This = wonderful

Harry carefully transfigures the dead bodies into carry-on luggage...

::giggles::

Harry has to use the Imperius curse to get the pilot to safely land the plane and the passengers to disembark without causing any further scenes. Luckily, the Imperius curse isn’t considered Unforgivable in the United States...

So that's how US politics works... XD
crucio_4_coffee on August 25th, 2006 04:27 pm (UTC)
Thanks! Yeah, the Imperius curse is rather popular here. *sigh*
I'm glad you liked the fic!
Amanuensis: Harderamanuensis1 on August 29th, 2006 05:12 pm (UTC)
This is...this is...

Never mind. Am dead of glee.
crucio_4_coffee on August 30th, 2006 01:36 am (UTC)
Oh no! Yay for glee, but don't die on me! *g*
Gikahaecut_wrist_kate on September 1st, 2006 04:32 pm (UTC)
That's hilarious...that was SNAKES ON A PLANE HARRY POTTER STYLE!!!!!
crucio_4_coffee on September 9th, 2006 03:27 am (UTC)
Thanks! I just thought that SoaPxHP was begging to be done, y'know?