Addicted by Lady Wolf
Summary: Skeletons in the proverbial closet? Hidden talents that drive one mad? Obsessive compulsive behavior? All this and more can be found within this trilogy of insanity. Characters admit their addictions and, for the most part, have nothing to be ashamed about.
Categories: Humor Fics Characters: None
Warnings: Slash
Series: None
Chapters: 3 Completed: Yes Word count: 2806 Read: 6190 Published: 11/14/04 Updated: 11/16/04

1. Addicted by Lady Wolf

2. Addicted Two by Lady Wolf

3. Addicted Three by Lady Wolf

Addicted by Lady Wolf

“Hello. My name is Minerva McGonagall, and I’m addicted to drag broom racing,” said Minerva curtly. She sat down next to a man that looked like a toad.

“Hi, Minerva!” Everyone chorused.

“Hello. My name is Harry Potter, and I’m addicted to tissues,” said Harry, waving to everyone in turn, and taking a seat near Minerva.

“Hi, Harry!” Cried Colin Creevey. But the author realized that she didn’t want Colin in her story and therefore made him explode into a million pieces. It wasn’t a sad ending for Mr. Creevey. No, he joined the ranks of many other delightfully irritating characters, which included (but wasn’t limited to) Gilderoy Lockhart, Peeves the Poltergeist, and that Quirrell guy - you know, the one with the smelly turban that was in the first book?

“Hello. My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father; prepare to die,” said a strange Spanish man, resting a hand on his six-fingered sword.

“Erm... I think you’re in the wrong story,” said the toad-looking man.

“Terribly sorry.” Inigo Montoya bowed in apology and moonwalked out of the room.

“Hello. My name is Hermione Granger, and I’m addicted to hair grease,” sniffled Hermione. She blew her nose in a Kleenex and sat down next to Harry. Harry glared at her, because he was mindless and addicted to tissues.

“GASP!” Chorused everyone.

“I know!” Cried Hermione, burying her face in the tissue (Harry grumbled).

The toad man lay a comforting hand on Hermione’s shoulder. “There, there. This is good that you’ve come here. Admitting your addiction is the first stage in overcoming it!” He handed her another tissue (Harry folded his arms and frowned at the floor).

“Hello, my name is Lucius Malfoy. I’m addicted to pimp canes,” said the tall bleach-blonde man. He clutched his pimp cane close to his chest, stroking it and muttering; “no one’s going to take you away from me, precious. My pimp cane. My good, sweet, terribly supportive pimp cane...”

Everyone blinked in unison.

A small blonde boy beside Lucius stood up. “My name is Draco Malfoy, and I have this unhealthy obsession with being beaten by my father.”

Everyone gasped in unison (they were very good at that). The toad man looked harassed (after all, a hobo named Bob had just felt him up).

Lucius promptly struck his son in the head with his pimp cane. “I NEVER BEAT YOU, YOU LITTLE GEORGIA PEACH!” He took a moment to pet his pimp cane and make sure it was okay, then he looked back at Draco. “I’m only preparing you for life!”

“Hello, my name is Albus Dumbledore,” smiled an elderly man with a long white beard, “and I have an obsession with...”

“Don’t be afraid, we won’t judge you,” cooed the toad man.

Dumbledore swallowed. “My beard.”

Harry cocked his head to one side. “Do you wash that thing with shampoo?”

Once again, everyone blinked in unison.

“Anyways,” said the toad man. “My name is Regis, and I’ll be your councilor this evening.”

“Hiiiiiiiiiiiii Regis!” Chorused everyone. This time they sounded a lot like that fake doctor on The Simpsons.

“Could I have that tissue when you‘re done?” Asked Harry. He was staring at Hermione as she wiped her nose, his eyes full of yearning.

“Now, now, Mr. Potter,” chuckled Regis, “you came here so that you may STOP obsessing over tissues.”

“But what about Lucius! He’s talking to his pimp cane!” Shouted Harry.

Lucius chucked a big black dog at Harry.

“OOF!” Harry tumbled back in his chair with the big black dog on top of him. The dog, however, had turned into Harry’s godfather, Sirius Black.

“Sirius!” Every girl in the room squealed and fainted, for everyone knew that Sirius Black was the Hogwarts man-whore. And he wasn’t dead like a certain author - who shall remain nameless - stated he was. Nope, certainly not dead. And, for some odd reason, he resembled an actor named Gary Oldman. (shrug) Go figure.

Sirius leapt to his feet and struck a pose. “Yes, it is I, the extremely hot and sexy Sirius Black.” He grabbed Hermione up in his arms and planted a big kiss on her lips. Hermione fell back in her seat, giggling and running a hand through her greasy hair. Her giggle turned into a sorrowful whine as, for the millionth time, her hand stuck to her head.

Dumbledore began to run a brush through his beard, humming a song under his breath that sounded a lot like “I’ve got a Lovely Bunch of Coconuts.” All eyes fell on him... and he screamed because, well, wouldn’t YOU scream if a bunch of eyes fell on you?

“Mr. Dumbledore! Kindly shut your trap!” Yelled Regis. Minerva smacked him upside the head.

“How DARE you speak to the Headmaster like that?!” She exclaimed. Face red with anger, the Transfiguration professor pulled her broom out of her purse and began whacking Regis in the head.

Harry, Sirius, and Lucius began to chant: “Minnie, Minnie, she’s our girl, she’s the hottest chick in the world!”

Hermione arched an eyebrow at Harry, who shrugged and grinned sheepishly.

At last Minerva stopped beating Regis silly, and hopped on her broom and flew out the window into the night. In the distance, everyone could here the call of a werewolf (who just so happened to be named Remus Lupin), and McGonagall giggling furiously.

“Well, now we know what Lupin does on nights of the full moon,” said Harry.

“Don’t you mean ‘who’?” Corrected Hermione.

Suddenly Harry turned to his very-much-alive godfather. “So Sirius, what brings you here?”

Sirius hung his head sadly. “Well Harry, I too have an addiction.”

Everyone stared in awe as Sirius Black (who was ALIVE AND WELL!) strode to the center of the room. “I... am addicted to love.”

“Aww,” chorused the girls in the room.


Harry cackled with glee as he rushed out of the room with Hermione’s tissue.

Everyone stared after him, wondering what the hell that boy had been smoking. (Hermione was still trying to detach her hand from her head)

“That was odd,” said Draco thoughtfully.

“Shut up, boy!” Barked Lucius. He cracked his cane over his son’s head; causing not just a concussion on Draco’s part, but breaking the awesome snakehead off Lucius’ pimp cane. Malfoy Sr. cradled his broken cane against his chest and began rocking back and forth. “No, no, no.” (Draco had passed out)

“Anyone up for Cappuccinos and pasta?” Inquired Dumbledore in a jolly tone.

“That sounds lovely!” Cried Hermione, jerking her hand from her hair. What resulted was a bald spot and a hairy hand, but a rather chipper young Gryffindor.

And so Regis, Dumbledore, and Hermione skipped out of the room. They lived happily ever after.

The End.
Addicted Two by Lady Wolf
Addicted Two

“(hiccup) Dobby and Winky is here, sirs and madams, (hiccup) because he and Winky has addictions,” said the house-elf with difficulty. For he, Dobby (as he annoyingly repeated) was addicted to butterbeer. His companion Winky, however, had overcome her addiction the previous year. A hypnotist - Gilderoy Lockhart in disguise - had hypnotized the poor female house-elf, and now Winky had the dreaded curse of blurting Hogwarts secrets at odd moments. It wasn’t really an addiction, but hey, who’s counting? I wish I could count...

“Hi, hello, howdy, and good day!” Shouted Voldemort. “My name is - dun dun dunnnn - VOLDEMORT!! And I... am... addicted... TO DR. PEPPER!!”

The toad man arched an eyebrow while everyone else hid his or her laughter behind a coughing spasm.

“Hello,” said Ginny Weasley and Colin Creevey together. “We are Colin and Ginny, and we love Harry/Draco fan-fiction.” They sat down, Ginny shooting a glare at Colin for trying to sit on her lap. Blushing, Colin took the seat next to the youngest Weasley. “So, when does this We Love Harry/Draco meeting start?”

Regis, the toad man, frowned. “I’m sorry, but this is the Addicted meeting... I’m afraid you have the wrong address.”

“Son of a ---” cursed Ginny. She bashed Colin on the head with her fist. “Creevey, you imbecile! You said this was the We Love Harry/Draco meeting!” Ginny stood up, dragging Colin along behind her. She jerked open the door only to find a dark broom closet, and inside was...

“Harry!” Shouted Ginny.

“Ginny!” Shouted Harry.

“Draco!” Shouted Colin.

“Weird-kid-that-stalks-Potter!” Shouted Draco.

Harry, long-believed to have swiped Hermione’s tissue in the last adventure, stood next to Draco, arms around the blonde’s neck, one leg wrapped around his waist. Draco, previously smashed on the head by his father’s pimp cane, was cradled in Harry’s arms, red lipstick plastered across his face.

“What in the name of Michael Jackson’s nose-less face is going on here!?” Exclaimed Regis.

Harry promptly released Draco, who fell with a sexy SMAP! onto the ground, and held his hands in the air. “I swear on the life of Stoned-Wall Jackson that I had NOTHING to do with this!”

Draco rose to his feet and dusted off his robes. “He’s lying. We were gettin’ it on!!”

Everyone gasped.

“In the BROOM CLOSET?!” Cried Ginny aghast.

“Sirius said it was the best place,” Harry shrugged.

“Hiya, Ginny,” greeted Sirius, who appeared from somewhere behind Harry’s leg.

“And just what are YOU doing in there, Mr. Black?” Inquired Regis.

Sirius shrugged. “Dinner and a show, Regis. Besides, the author accidentally forgot to mention what became of me in the last story, so she just randomly placed me in this closet with Draco and Harry. It’s as simple as that, really.”

“Oh, well as long as you have a good enough reason,” said the toad man.

“HELLO?! Could we introduce ourselves now?” Shouted Fred Weasley; George punched him in the nads.

“Shut up, bungwipe!” Said George.

“Psst,” whispered Sirius. “They’re addicted to Beavis and Butthead.”

“Wonderful observation,” said Ginny sarcastically.

“You asshole!” Cried Fred, flinging himself at George.

“I am Cornholio! I need TP for my bunghole!”

“There’s something ya don’t see every day...” commented Colin.

“Corn!!!” Shouted Voldemort.

“What the hell?” Said Harry.

The Dark Lord sprung to his feet and began bouncing off the walls, leaving rather large dents that he would have to pay for later. “BOINGY BOINGY BOINGY!!”

“I’m supposed to fight THAT to the death in the last book?” Harry asked to no one in particular.


Fred and George suddenly stopped fighting and watched as Voldemort smashed through a wall and lay unconscious. “Whoa. heh heh heh. That was cool.”

“Yeah. I think he’s, like, dead and stuff,” commented George.

“Let’s go poke him!” Suggested Fred.

He and George walked over and started poking Voldemort with a stick.

“Heh heh heh. This is cool.”

“I think they need help.” Said Draco.

“Masters are bad, bad wizards, they is,” said Winky. It was the very first thing Winky had said in this story, and everyone was surprised by it - even the author! “Nearly Headless Nick had an affair with the Fat Friar!” The elf slapped a hand to her mouth, eyes bulging with horror. “WINKY IS NOT SAYING SUCH THINGS!” She added, but since her mouth was covered it sounded more like: “BUFF-WUFF UFF BUFF FUFF-WUFF FUFF FUFFS!”

For some odd reason, Draco’s hair grew three feet long. He now looked like one of Charlie’s Angels. So, with the grace that is Malfoy, Draco tossed his hair over his shoulder and smiled alluringly at Fred and George. Said twins gaped open-mouthed at the luscious Draco...

“Must touch the hiney. Huh huh huh,” they chanted as they moved closer to Draco.

Draco promptly turned around and shook his ass teasingly. “Ooh yeah, touch it baby, touch it!” Harry stood in front of Draco, blocking the twin’s view.

“Outta the way, butt-munch,” barked George.

“Dobby makes whoopy to the nude statues in the castle!” Shrieked Winky.

“WINKY!” Cried Dobby. “(hiccup) You isn’t saying things about Dobby (hiccup)! No (hiccup) you isn’t! Man am I drunk.”

Everyone arched an eyebrow at the house-elves.

“DON’T LOOK AT THEM! LOOK AT ME!!” Exclaimed Voldemort. He now had a bowl of fruit on his head, and was dancing to some unheard song. “Everybody mambo!”

And they all joined in the random dance that would lead to the end of the chapter.

The End.
Addicted Three by Lady Wolf
Author's Note: Yes, this really is the last part. Not as funny as the others, but still pretty good. Thanks for reading!

Addicted Three

“Mambo, mambo, mam-bo! Mambo, mambo, mam-bo!” sang the group as they danced around the room. Voldemort led the way, hyped up on his Dr. Pepper addiction, while everyone else followed behind. They had all forgotten why they were there ... but not Regis.

“Alright, get outta here!” he shouted.

Voldemort gave him the thumbs-up and Mambo-ed everyone out of the room.

Regis sighed and sat in his chair. A loud squeak was heard, and he leapt up to find ...

... a werewolf figurine dressed like Ginger Spice.

“What the --” said Regis.

Snape walked casually into the room, picked up the werewolf figurine and sat down, talking to it. “So sorry, sweetheart. Didn’t mean to leave you there all alone. Did you miss me?”

Regis lowered himself back into his chair. “Erm ... excuse me, but who are you?”

“Severus Snape’s the name,” Snape nodded, “and I have a healthy obsession with canine action figures.”

“An addiction with dolls, that’s not healthy.”

“They’re NOT dolls! They’re ACTION FIGURES!” spat Snape.

Regis took a moment to wipe the spit off his face.

Remus Lupin walked into the room then, followed closely by a rather twitchy Ron Weasley. Remus was busy looking at himself in the mirror and rubbing his hands over his body.

“Ooh, ooh yeah,”said Remus, taking a seat next to the toad man.

Ron suddenly shrieked and stomped his foot on the ground in a rather unusual fashion. “DIE, SPIDER, DIE!! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!”

Regis raised an eyebrow.

Snape pulled out another "figurine." This one was in the form of a black dog. The Potions Master acquired a low, gravely voice to represent the dog, which was dressed like Baby Spice. “I am Cookie Monster! Come from MojoLand! Would you like to pet my scruffy?” He gave the werewolf figurine a high-pitched voice. “Why you horny little bitch!”

“AHHHHH!” yelled Ron. He spotted a tiny spider crawling up the side of his chair. He slammed his boot spastically against the chair, screaming bloody murder.

“Mmm hmm ... you know how to work it, baby,” cooed Remus, waggling his tongue at the mirror.

Regis blinked. “I am officially frightened by everyone.”

Snape yet again pulled out another action figure. This one was in the form of Remus Lupin, and was dressed like Scary Spice.

“Hey, that looks like Godzilla!” commented Ron. “With an afro ... and talent.”

Regis sighed again. “That’s the forty-dollar question: Where’s an ex-Baywatch star when ya need one?”

“I’m better than any Baywatch star, baby!” growled Remus, leaning back in his chair, pulling up his robes, and revealing a six-pack. “Oooh yeah! Eat your heart out, Demi Moore!”

“Does anybody have any Pepto Bismol?” asked Regis, looking around.

[Flashback to the Pepto Bismol commercials]

Random people do a funky dance. "Heartburn, nausea, indigestion, upset stomach, diarrhea ... Hey!”

[End flashback]

Regis lowered his face into his palm. “Dear God, it’s the Macarena all over again!”

“Is something the matter?” Ginger Spice Werewolf Figurine asked.

“No, everything’s just fine,” replied Regis. He leaned back in his chair and watched the mayhem, thinking: “I should’ve stayed at Wal-Mart. At least they pay overtime for this kind of crap.”

“Chipper little fellow, isn’t he?” Snape asked Baby Spice Black Dog Figurine.

“Why yes,” it replied.

“Mmm,” Remus grunted and struck a pose. “So sexay!”

Ron surveyed the room. “This is like watching Popeye on ice! Is that Woody Woodpecker?”

Regis looked up from his palm, and blinked. “No. It’s just a pecker.”

“Oh. Darn,” said Ron. He brought his hand down hard against the side of Regis’s face. “AHH!! SPIDER!”

Regis fell to the ground, and died.

He lived out his afterlife with Moaning Myrtle in the bathroom. Now you know why she’s called Moaning Myrtle.

The End.
This story archived at