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birdsofshoreTitle: Clone Wars
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
birdsofshore
Rating: PG-13
Word count: ~2100
Characters: A lucky dip of fandom favourites
Summary: They met in the dingy back room of a shady-looking pub in Knockturn Alley: a Frost Giant, a consulting detective, an Academy Award-winning actor... and a pointy git.
Warnings: Crossover. Unbetaed. One of those ideas you have at 4 am, then wake up and say 'naaaah.' Except I went ahead and wrote it.
A/N: For the deliciouswho_la_hoop, on her birthday. I was going to say that this is probably the most ridiculous thing I have ever written, but, who am I kidding? This is, without question, the most ridiculous thing I have ever written, inspired by many a conversation with Ms Hoop herself. So, basically, yeah, blame her. :D
They met in the dingy back room of a shady-looking pub in Knockturn Alley: a Frost Giant, a consulting detective, an Academy Award-winning actor... and a pointy git.
Draco coughed politely and the room fell silent. “Thank you all for coming. I trust each of you received my letter?”
They all nodded, but Nicolas Cage frowned at Draco. “Don't send your pet bird to my castle again, OK? Because next time, I'm going to let my king cobras eat it.”
Draco scoffed. “Eat my owl? I hardly think so. It's more likely that she will eat them.”
He consulted a piece of parchment in front of him. “Anyway, you're all aware that I have used magic to identify the most sexually desirable, powerful and intelligent specimens in four alternate universes?”
He gazed around the room, nodding at each of the men, before coming back to the serious, long face of Nic Cage. Draco's look of confidence faltered slightly. “I really thought it had worked... There was that moment in the incantation where I faced north-east instead of north-west... ” His forehead furrowed. “No, of course it worked. After all, it chose me.”
He regained control of his habitual smirk. “And so, here we are, gentlemen! The cream of our respective worlds.” He tossed his hair back smugly.
“Why have you brought me here, wizard, to sit in this dingy room with these fools?” Loki demanded.
“As I said in my message, with our new race of sex clones, we can take over any world we set our sights on. Ultimate power, wealth and status. No more taunts about ex-Death Eater scum, that's for sure. We can be worshipped as gods if we want to—”
Loki sneered. “I am a god. And I was busy polishing my staff when you—” He broke off for a moment to glare at Sherlock, who was snickering. “When you summoned me here.”
“That was a very advanced Portkey.” Draco tutted. “It's taken a great deal of effort to get you all here. Everything has been planned very carefully.”
Sherlock's eyes narrowed. “I can see from the way you keep flicking your hair that you spent even longer than usual this morning arranging it, and your... frock thing is obviously brand new; you bought it specially to impress us.”
Draco sat up straight in his seat with indignation. “These are robes. Madam Astra's finest.”
Nic Cage let out a small grunt of laughter.
“Watch it,” Sherlock warned him. “I might do you next, and you won't like what I have to say about people who keep snakes to compensate for—”
Nic interrupted with a sudden coughing fit which drowned out the rest of Sherlock's words.
“Hmm. In the meantime,” Sherlock continued to Draco, when the noise had subsided, “as for planning this meeting carefully, it seems to me that you don't have a clue what you're doing.”
“Oh, really?” Draco reached into his robes and drew something out with a flourish. “What about these, then?” He passed each man a small badge emblazoned with the letters “C.U.M.” The badges were white, and glittery.
Sherlock's lip curled, however Loki admired the glitter effect on his, then pinned it happily to his lapel.
Nicolas Cage turned his over in his hand. “C.U.M? What is this? I can't wear something that says C.U.M. on it. Have some self-respect, man.”
Draco shook his head. “This is how you do things properly, OK? I got the idea from Grang― from one of our finest minds. These will help ensure the success of the project.”
“It said in your bizarre owl-letter that this was secret.” Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Did you consider that perhaps it's not the best idea to wear badges identifying ourselves?”
“It is secret. The badges will help, trust me. No-one need know what they mean.”
“What do they mean?” asked Loki.
“Clones of Unlimited Magnificence,” Draco announced grandly.
Sherlock guffawed. “Clones of Unlimited Magnificence? Oh, very catchy.”
“Look, I've gone to a lot of trouble to arrange all this, and all you lot can do is whine. Now, do you want to be cloned and take over the universe, or not?” asked Draco.
There were some mutterings, but it seemed generally agreed that the answer was yes. Or, at least, not 'no'.
“Right, well, we need to decide which of us is actually going to be used as the original for the cloning,” Draco said.
Nic Cage cleared his throat. “I think that part, at least, is fairly straightforward.” He raised an eyebrow and smiled modestly.
Draco preened. “I'm so glad you agree. Well, I think I can have an initial output of one hundred clones of myself ready for a test run a week on Monday, and—”
Sherlock interrupted. “Are you both total fucking imbeciles?”
Draco raised his eyes to the ceiling. “Oh, I suppose you're going to say it should be you. Well, I don't think so.”
“Not me.” Sherlock shook his head. “I meant thingummy here, obviously. Mr Shiny of Asgard.”
“Loki? Er... what are you talking about?” Draco frowned.
Sherlock made a scoffing sound. “Is it not completely obvious? We are talking about sex clones here, yes? And the man's got an absolutely massive whanger.”
Draco's eyes were wide. “I beg your pardon?”
“His penis. It's gigantic.”
Nic looked as if he felt faintly nauseous, but Loki was grinning and rocking back in his chair.
“Do you two know each other?” Draco asked Sherlock with irritation.
“Even if you haven't noticed the blatant signs – the way he walks, the way he sits, all of that, the way he's not the slightest bit bothered by wearing a pair of ludicrous golden horns on his head, do you not have eyes? Can you not see that the man is packing something the size of a small zeppelin in those ridiculously tight trousers?”
Nic raised a hand. “I, uh, noticed, but I tried not to look.”
Draco tutted. “Just because he's... allegedly... the largest, doesn't mean he should be the one to get cloned.”
Nic nodded. “Exactly. What precisely does he have to offer, that I don't?”
Loki grinned and turned to Nic with an wicked glint in his eye. “I've a genius-level intelligence, with extensive training in magic. I'm a shapeshifter; I practise astral projection; I can teleport across dimensions, repel bullets and control people and animals telepathically. And as this very astute gentleman pointed out, I have a cock the size of Gibraltar. And you...?”
Nic glared at Loki. “I invented Nouveau Shamanism.”
Loki's face was blank.
“And I only eat animals that have dignified sex,” Nic added.
There was one of those awkward moments in which it seemed nobody quite knew where to look, then Loki turned to Draco. “You say this man is considered a superior specimen in his universe? Where the fuck is it that he comes from?”
Nic leaned forward, gazing intently at Loki. “Women write haiku about me. I won an Oscar. There are whole internet memes devoted to my face. I'm going to be buried in a nine foot pyramid.”
Sherlock snorted. Nic snapped his head round to glare at him. “Is something funny?”
“No, not at all." Sherlock smiled. "I'm sure those things are considered quite exceptional on whatever backward, feeble-minded little world it is that you come from.”
A growl started to build in Nic's throat. Sherlock's only response was a sneer, but as Nic lurched to his feet, fists clenched, Loki reached for his staff.
“Gentlemen! Gentlemen, please—” Draco held out his hands, then had second thoughts and drew his wand instead.
*
Some time later, three of the men settled back in their seats, a little older and wiser.
Draco was missing a chunk of hair; Sherlock's face now displayed several Hex-marks, while Loki was trying to straighten out a dent in his horns. Some of the furniture bore the unmistakable signs of having been set on fire and then hastily put out, but things didn't look so bad after Draco had quickly cleared up the broken glass and cast a quick Reparo at the window.
It was probably best not to dwell on the details of why Nicolas Cage was no longer present. The main thing was that the matter had been decided: the clone would have Loki's body, Sherlock's intellect, and Draco's charm and cunning.
Draco shook out his robes with a satisfied smile. “With that combination, gentlemen, I think we should encounter very little resistance from any world we decide to target.” A look of disappointment crossed his face for a moment. “Are we quite sure we don't want the sex clone to have my hair, though? No?”
Sherlock's face screwed up as he rubbed at a nasty-looking Hex-mark on his jaw. “I'm not even convinced about your so-called charm. We've not seen much evidence of it, so far.”
Draco sat back, slowly crossing his long legs. “Well, we are in the business of creating clones that will be sexually irresistible. As well as my many other charms, I'm well known for being able to...” He leaned forward and spoke quietly into Sherlock's ear.
Sherlock's eyebrows shot up and he looked impressed. “Really? Does that not... sting a bit?”
Draco gave a modest smile. “Not the way I do it.”
Sherlock touched his fingers together and nodded thoughtfully.
Loki gestured to Nic's empty chair. “What about that dull creature?”
Draco waved a hand. “Oh, don't worry about that. I'll sort things out on his world. We can probably send for a replacement or something.”
He arched an eyebrow. “Well! I think that about wraps it up for the business part. Let's meet again, same time next week? The cloning device should be constructed by then, and we can deal with any matters that have arisen in the meantime.”
He waved his wand and four glasses appeared in front of them, fizzing with champagne. “A toast, then. To world domination!”
“To world domination!”
There was a knock, and then a perky popstar face topped with bouffant hair poked round the door. Harry Styles was out of breath and wearing a slightly nervous smile. “Am I too late? I'm really sorry, I was having a wee.”
Harry Potter tossed and turned, moaning and grimacing.
“Draco.... no! I was so sure you'd given up being evil... uggghhh...”
He felt a hand on his shoulder and with an effort, opened his eyes. He was on the lumpy old sofa in the front room of Grimmauld Place, and Draco was there beside him.
“Oh, Draco. I had the most awful dream.”
“You always do, when you eat that much treacle tart on top of a roast dinner and then fall asleep in front of the fire.” Draco's face was creased with amusement.
“You were plotting something... and there were these weird blokes with you... and oh, Draco, you were up to no good, and I couldn't do anything about it.”
“Up to no good, eh?” Draco ran an affectionate hand across Harry's hair. “We can't have that, can we?”
Harry rubbed his eyes and sat up. “Why've you got your cloak on? Where are you off to?”
Draco shrugged. “I've got a meeting. I mean― I'm meeting Pansy.”
“Shall I come? I could do with a walk.”
“What? No! I mean... it would be terribly dull for you. We're... shopping. For hair potions. And shoes.”
“OK, then. Have fun. When do you think you'll be back?”
“Oh, in a couple of hours, probably. You go back to sleep and enjoy dreaming about me.”
“I wasn't enjoying it.” Harry frowned at Draco, who was fastening his cloak and checking he had his wand. “It was terrible. You were all saying 'To world domination', and you had that look in your eye, and—”
Draco snickered. “World domination, eh? Well, well, well. Maybe, when I get back, I can dominate you.”
Harry's mouth went dry at this pleasant thought. He tilted his face for a kiss, half-wishing he could persuade Draco to join him on the sofa instead of going out.
“Well, I must floo. See you later, Harry. World domination, indeed.” Draco chuckled to himself and took a pinch of powder from the saucer on the mantelpiece.
A flash of sparkly white in the folds of Draco's cloak caught Harry's eye. “Draco, what's that—”
“Knockturn Alley!” Draco said, and stepped into the fireplace.
“Draco, what was that badge pinned to your cloak? Draco? Draco!”
But it was too late. Draco was gone, leaving only some green embers and the acrid whiff of Floo Powder behind him.
Author:
birdsofshoreRating: PG-13
Word count: ~2100
Characters: A lucky dip of fandom favourites
Summary: They met in the dingy back room of a shady-looking pub in Knockturn Alley: a Frost Giant, a consulting detective, an Academy Award-winning actor... and a pointy git.
Warnings: Crossover. Unbetaed. One of those ideas you have at 4 am, then wake up and say 'naaaah.' Except I went ahead and wrote it.
A/N: For the delicious
who_la_hoop, on her birthday. I was going to say that this is probably the most ridiculous thing I have ever written, but, who am I kidding? This is, without question, the most ridiculous thing I have ever written, inspired by many a conversation with Ms Hoop herself. So, basically, yeah, blame her. :D*
They met in the dingy back room of a shady-looking pub in Knockturn Alley: a Frost Giant, a consulting detective, an Academy Award-winning actor... and a pointy git.
Draco coughed politely and the room fell silent. “Thank you all for coming. I trust each of you received my letter?”
They all nodded, but Nicolas Cage frowned at Draco. “Don't send your pet bird to my castle again, OK? Because next time, I'm going to let my king cobras eat it.”
Draco scoffed. “Eat my owl? I hardly think so. It's more likely that she will eat them.”
He consulted a piece of parchment in front of him. “Anyway, you're all aware that I have used magic to identify the most sexually desirable, powerful and intelligent specimens in four alternate universes?”
He gazed around the room, nodding at each of the men, before coming back to the serious, long face of Nic Cage. Draco's look of confidence faltered slightly. “I really thought it had worked... There was that moment in the incantation where I faced north-east instead of north-west... ” His forehead furrowed. “No, of course it worked. After all, it chose me.”
He regained control of his habitual smirk. “And so, here we are, gentlemen! The cream of our respective worlds.” He tossed his hair back smugly.
“Why have you brought me here, wizard, to sit in this dingy room with these fools?” Loki demanded.
“As I said in my message, with our new race of sex clones, we can take over any world we set our sights on. Ultimate power, wealth and status. No more taunts about ex-Death Eater scum, that's for sure. We can be worshipped as gods if we want to—”
Loki sneered. “I am a god. And I was busy polishing my staff when you—” He broke off for a moment to glare at Sherlock, who was snickering. “When you summoned me here.”
“That was a very advanced Portkey.” Draco tutted. “It's taken a great deal of effort to get you all here. Everything has been planned very carefully.”
Sherlock's eyes narrowed. “I can see from the way you keep flicking your hair that you spent even longer than usual this morning arranging it, and your... frock thing is obviously brand new; you bought it specially to impress us.”
Draco sat up straight in his seat with indignation. “These are robes. Madam Astra's finest.”
Nic Cage let out a small grunt of laughter.
“Watch it,” Sherlock warned him. “I might do you next, and you won't like what I have to say about people who keep snakes to compensate for—”
Nic interrupted with a sudden coughing fit which drowned out the rest of Sherlock's words.
“Hmm. In the meantime,” Sherlock continued to Draco, when the noise had subsided, “as for planning this meeting carefully, it seems to me that you don't have a clue what you're doing.”
“Oh, really?” Draco reached into his robes and drew something out with a flourish. “What about these, then?” He passed each man a small badge emblazoned with the letters “C.U.M.” The badges were white, and glittery.
Sherlock's lip curled, however Loki admired the glitter effect on his, then pinned it happily to his lapel.
Nicolas Cage turned his over in his hand. “C.U.M? What is this? I can't wear something that says C.U.M. on it. Have some self-respect, man.”
Draco shook his head. “This is how you do things properly, OK? I got the idea from Grang― from one of our finest minds. These will help ensure the success of the project.”
“It said in your bizarre owl-letter that this was secret.” Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Did you consider that perhaps it's not the best idea to wear badges identifying ourselves?”
“It is secret. The badges will help, trust me. No-one need know what they mean.”
“What do they mean?” asked Loki.
“Clones of Unlimited Magnificence,” Draco announced grandly.
Sherlock guffawed. “Clones of Unlimited Magnificence? Oh, very catchy.”
“Look, I've gone to a lot of trouble to arrange all this, and all you lot can do is whine. Now, do you want to be cloned and take over the universe, or not?” asked Draco.
There were some mutterings, but it seemed generally agreed that the answer was yes. Or, at least, not 'no'.
“Right, well, we need to decide which of us is actually going to be used as the original for the cloning,” Draco said.
Nic Cage cleared his throat. “I think that part, at least, is fairly straightforward.” He raised an eyebrow and smiled modestly.
Draco preened. “I'm so glad you agree. Well, I think I can have an initial output of one hundred clones of myself ready for a test run a week on Monday, and—”
Sherlock interrupted. “Are you both total fucking imbeciles?”
Draco raised his eyes to the ceiling. “Oh, I suppose you're going to say it should be you. Well, I don't think so.”
“Not me.” Sherlock shook his head. “I meant thingummy here, obviously. Mr Shiny of Asgard.”
“Loki? Er... what are you talking about?” Draco frowned.
Sherlock made a scoffing sound. “Is it not completely obvious? We are talking about sex clones here, yes? And the man's got an absolutely massive whanger.”
Draco's eyes were wide. “I beg your pardon?”
“His penis. It's gigantic.”
Nic looked as if he felt faintly nauseous, but Loki was grinning and rocking back in his chair.
“Do you two know each other?” Draco asked Sherlock with irritation.
“Even if you haven't noticed the blatant signs – the way he walks, the way he sits, all of that, the way he's not the slightest bit bothered by wearing a pair of ludicrous golden horns on his head, do you not have eyes? Can you not see that the man is packing something the size of a small zeppelin in those ridiculously tight trousers?”
Nic raised a hand. “I, uh, noticed, but I tried not to look.”
Draco tutted. “Just because he's... allegedly... the largest, doesn't mean he should be the one to get cloned.”
Nic nodded. “Exactly. What precisely does he have to offer, that I don't?”
Loki grinned and turned to Nic with an wicked glint in his eye. “I've a genius-level intelligence, with extensive training in magic. I'm a shapeshifter; I practise astral projection; I can teleport across dimensions, repel bullets and control people and animals telepathically. And as this very astute gentleman pointed out, I have a cock the size of Gibraltar. And you...?”
Nic glared at Loki. “I invented Nouveau Shamanism.”
Loki's face was blank.
“And I only eat animals that have dignified sex,” Nic added.
There was one of those awkward moments in which it seemed nobody quite knew where to look, then Loki turned to Draco. “You say this man is considered a superior specimen in his universe? Where the fuck is it that he comes from?”
Nic leaned forward, gazing intently at Loki. “Women write haiku about me. I won an Oscar. There are whole internet memes devoted to my face. I'm going to be buried in a nine foot pyramid.”
Sherlock snorted. Nic snapped his head round to glare at him. “Is something funny?”
“No, not at all." Sherlock smiled. "I'm sure those things are considered quite exceptional on whatever backward, feeble-minded little world it is that you come from.”
A growl started to build in Nic's throat. Sherlock's only response was a sneer, but as Nic lurched to his feet, fists clenched, Loki reached for his staff.
“Gentlemen! Gentlemen, please—” Draco held out his hands, then had second thoughts and drew his wand instead.
*
Some time later, three of the men settled back in their seats, a little older and wiser.
Draco was missing a chunk of hair; Sherlock's face now displayed several Hex-marks, while Loki was trying to straighten out a dent in his horns. Some of the furniture bore the unmistakable signs of having been set on fire and then hastily put out, but things didn't look so bad after Draco had quickly cleared up the broken glass and cast a quick Reparo at the window.
It was probably best not to dwell on the details of why Nicolas Cage was no longer present. The main thing was that the matter had been decided: the clone would have Loki's body, Sherlock's intellect, and Draco's charm and cunning.
Draco shook out his robes with a satisfied smile. “With that combination, gentlemen, I think we should encounter very little resistance from any world we decide to target.” A look of disappointment crossed his face for a moment. “Are we quite sure we don't want the sex clone to have my hair, though? No?”
Sherlock's face screwed up as he rubbed at a nasty-looking Hex-mark on his jaw. “I'm not even convinced about your so-called charm. We've not seen much evidence of it, so far.”
Draco sat back, slowly crossing his long legs. “Well, we are in the business of creating clones that will be sexually irresistible. As well as my many other charms, I'm well known for being able to...” He leaned forward and spoke quietly into Sherlock's ear.
Sherlock's eyebrows shot up and he looked impressed. “Really? Does that not... sting a bit?”
Draco gave a modest smile. “Not the way I do it.”
Sherlock touched his fingers together and nodded thoughtfully.
Loki gestured to Nic's empty chair. “What about that dull creature?”
Draco waved a hand. “Oh, don't worry about that. I'll sort things out on his world. We can probably send for a replacement or something.”
He arched an eyebrow. “Well! I think that about wraps it up for the business part. Let's meet again, same time next week? The cloning device should be constructed by then, and we can deal with any matters that have arisen in the meantime.”
He waved his wand and four glasses appeared in front of them, fizzing with champagne. “A toast, then. To world domination!”
“To world domination!”
There was a knock, and then a perky popstar face topped with bouffant hair poked round the door. Harry Styles was out of breath and wearing a slightly nervous smile. “Am I too late? I'm really sorry, I was having a wee.”
*
Harry Potter tossed and turned, moaning and grimacing.
“Draco.... no! I was so sure you'd given up being evil... uggghhh...”
He felt a hand on his shoulder and with an effort, opened his eyes. He was on the lumpy old sofa in the front room of Grimmauld Place, and Draco was there beside him.
“Oh, Draco. I had the most awful dream.”
“You always do, when you eat that much treacle tart on top of a roast dinner and then fall asleep in front of the fire.” Draco's face was creased with amusement.
“You were plotting something... and there were these weird blokes with you... and oh, Draco, you were up to no good, and I couldn't do anything about it.”
“Up to no good, eh?” Draco ran an affectionate hand across Harry's hair. “We can't have that, can we?”
Harry rubbed his eyes and sat up. “Why've you got your cloak on? Where are you off to?”
Draco shrugged. “I've got a meeting. I mean― I'm meeting Pansy.”
“Shall I come? I could do with a walk.”
“What? No! I mean... it would be terribly dull for you. We're... shopping. For hair potions. And shoes.”
“OK, then. Have fun. When do you think you'll be back?”
“Oh, in a couple of hours, probably. You go back to sleep and enjoy dreaming about me.”
“I wasn't enjoying it.” Harry frowned at Draco, who was fastening his cloak and checking he had his wand. “It was terrible. You were all saying 'To world domination', and you had that look in your eye, and—”
Draco snickered. “World domination, eh? Well, well, well. Maybe, when I get back, I can dominate you.”
Harry's mouth went dry at this pleasant thought. He tilted his face for a kiss, half-wishing he could persuade Draco to join him on the sofa instead of going out.
“Well, I must floo. See you later, Harry. World domination, indeed.” Draco chuckled to himself and took a pinch of powder from the saucer on the mantelpiece.
A flash of sparkly white in the folds of Draco's cloak caught Harry's eye. “Draco, what's that—”
“Knockturn Alley!” Draco said, and stepped into the fireplace.
“Draco, what was that badge pinned to your cloak? Draco? Draco!”
But it was too late. Draco was gone, leaving only some green embers and the acrid whiff of Floo Powder behind him.
no subject
Date: 2014-02-23 06:26 pm (UTC)You are very welcome. I always want to shower you with glorious silliness. ♥ ♥ ♥