It's been so long! I think I may have actually forgotten about this fic. Sorry to my two subbers. But here it is; Chapter Three!

The wizard strode into the room, twirling his cloak around him, eyeing the room and inhaling deeply through his disfigured nose. He turned to Alyssa, expecting her to be impressed. He was bitterly disappointed.

Alyssa frowned. "Why don't you have such a cool scar?"

Voldemort inhaled once again sharply through his non-existent nose in anger.

"And that's another thing," she began, "getting the same plastic surgeon as Michael Jackson was not a good idea!"

The evil wizard still said nothing.

Alyssa sighed. "And you used to be so good looking. But now…" she surveyed his appearance. "You looked better under the turban."

"Excuse me," he hissed in his high, cold voice, "but can we get down to business?"

"Oh, Voldie!" she exclaimed, pretending to blush. "I didn't know you were so eager!" She giggled, but then her expression hardened. "All right. I figured that you wouldn't have eaten yet, so I made you some biscuits."

He gave a look of distaste as Alyssa moved over to pull something out of the oven. She placed the tray of biscuits on the kitchen counter and frowned at them.
"Honestly, I was sure I hadn't done that!"

She moved aside to reveal the biscuits, all of which were in the shape of lightening bolts.

He turned to the girl, who was biting her lip in a weak attempt not to grin, and gave her his most evil look. "I could kill you in a second, now stop messing about!"

Alyssa rolled her eyes. "Please, I've met plenty of people more evil than you!" She brandished the tray at him. "Eat!"

He took his seat begrudgingly and tried to avoid looking at the plate of Harry Potter-style biscuits. Alyssa sat down opposite him at the tiny square table, began chewing at a strange slab of meat and drinking a glass of chocolate milk. Although, when I say chewing, I really mean drumming tunes with her cutlery and playing with her food, and when I say drinking, I mean blowing bubbles through a straw.

The Dark Lord before her watched the girl's actions with slight annoyance. She spotted his expression and showed him the piece of meat on a fork. "Would you like some?" she asked through a mouthful of food.

His pale features turned a slight shade of green. "What is it?"

Alyssa gave a mischievous grin. "Snake."

Voldemort narrowed his eyes. Alyssa smacked him on the arm. He let out a squeal and glared at her, reddening, as he waited for an explanation.

She gave him an expression of mock-sheepishness. "Mosquito."

There was a long silence and Alyssa seemed to be trying out a few different techniques to irritate the man. First, she simply stared at him, awestruck, without looking away. When it became evident that this would do nothing but cause the Dark Lord to frown, she resorted to breaking up the untouched biscuits on his plate and pegging them at him. He seemed intent on not giving in to the girl by speaking, but eventually he could be silent no longer.

"DESIST!" he screeched and Alyssa was overcome with a fit of laughter. But this did not lessen the wizard's rage; in fact, it seemed to encourage him. "Or this house will soon bear the Dark Mark above its roof!"

She ignored his outburst. "Yes, I meant to ask you about that! Thanks for reminding me! Why can't the Dark Mark look like something more socially acceptable?"

He gave her a look that could wither the freshest daisy. "It is not meant to be 'socially acceptable!' It is the sign that I, Voldemort, the most powerful wizard of all time will one day rule the world!"

Alyssa frowned. "I thought it meant that your Death Eaters had knocked off another wizard? And anyway," she continued, as he seemed to want to argue, "are you sure the whole evil-maniac-out-for-power-and-revenge thing isn't getting a bit old?"

He drew himself up to his greatest height. "My plans are the most advanced and likely to succeed than any others!"

"Really?" she eyed him sceptically. "I think your evil master plans of world domination are… kind of girlie. I mean, you're scared of a frail old man with a beard the size of a beehive, you can't fight babies, you're too short and need platform shoes and you would look manlier if you shaved your legs and chest!"

Voldemort seemed dumbfounded by this exchange of information and could do nothing more than gape for several minutes.

Alyssa took a deep breath. "Now shall we get these contracts signed?"

He murmured his ascent and glided ahead, bat-like, into the study that Alyssa had pointed him towards. As he walked, he examined a few pieces of furniture, touching the occasional pot-plant.

"Don't touch that!" Alyssa frowned, spraying the plant with disinfectant.

Finally, after a few moments of Voldemort sweeping a hand over certain objects, only to have Alyssa spray them with a can of disinfectant, they reached the study and positioned themselves comfortably on either side of a desk. Alyssa took out her wand and waved it. A folder of contracts and questionnaires zoomed out of one of the drawers and she examined them momentarily before asking Voldemort questions and ticking/crossing the boxes accordingly.

"Right, have you met Darth Vader?"

The wizard looked completely baffled as to who this 'Darth Vader' was and Alyssa simply crossed the box.

"Do they believe in toothbrushes where you come from?"

He glared at her and she filled in the box, muttering something like, "Nope."

"Do you wear colour contact lenses?"

Silence.

"Alright… Do you like the Weird Sisters?"

His expression remained stony.

"No? Okay." She looked down at the next question, then back at Voldemort in disgust. "Which one of your ancestors married a snake?"

"Excuse me," he said in his usual high, cold voice, "but when will we be addressing the matter at hand?"

"Alright, alright, there's just one more!" she gave him a pitying, yet understanding look. "Did it hurt you when Bellatrix left you for Rudolphus?"

Voldemort hissed. "My relationship with Mrs. Lestrange is of no importance!"

"Did you even have a girlfriend? Like, ever?"

"Ms. Gillies!"

"Fine, fine, Voldie-Poo, no need to get your knickers in a twist!" she looked back down at her notes. "But you know Wormtail fancies you," she added, mumbling under her breath.

'Voldie-Poo' stood up in anger. "I will not be insulted like this!" He reached for his wand.

Alyssa became serious. "Remember the owl," she said darkly. Voldemort retained his seat. Once again, Alyssa became her bright self. "I think a yoga class could cure you of your wicked ways, Voldie-Poo!" she smiled.

"My name is the Dark Lord!" he whispered, his voice dripping with venom.

"Can I call you Mouldy Voldy?"

"The Dark Lord."

"Mouldy Voldy."

"The Dark Lord!"

"Fine, fine!" she conceded. "Have a drink."

She passed him a tall glass of alcohol and he eyed it with distaste. She pulled out a folder marked 'Contracts' and continued to fill in various lines and spaces.

"Name?"

"Lord Voldemort."

"No, come on, you're real name."

"That is my real name."

"Well I didn't see you sign a deed poll," she argued. "If this contract is going to be legally binding I need you're real name. I think you'll find a line in here saying I won't send a letter to Rita Skeeter, or anyone else important, if you keep to the terms."

"Fine."

"So, name."

"Tom Marvolo Riddle."

"Marvolo?" Alyssa sneered. "What's that, a washing detergent?"

"It was my grandfather's name," he hissed. "A noble, pure-blooded wizard who-"

"Yeah, yeah," she cut him off. "Do you have any other relatives? Any living relatives, say a son? Because I happen to know a dark-haired boy with glasses who looks a lot like you."

"No. I do not have a son."

"If that's what you're sticking to," she winked. "So, Tommy-boy! Let's see, if you rearranging that… Oh. Couldn't you have come up with something more threatening than Voldemort? I mean I'm all for anagrams, but seriously! I wonder if the name Voldemort commands as much respect as, say, Potter or Dumbledore."

Voldemort hissed angrily.

"All right, calm down. Now, just sign here," she told him, pointing to the dotted line.

"Show me the terms and conditions!"

"Does anyone actually read those anymore?"

"Show me!"

"Okay, here you go." She handed another sheet of paper, and he squinted at the words, trying to concentrate.

Wow, Alyssa thought to herself, Dark wizards really do have great constitutions. Not so great though…

Finally, Voldemort admitted defeat. "I can't read it," he slurred, "but let's get this over with. Weird oh I seen?"

"Right here," Alyssa smirked.

He scrawled on the contract.

"Thank you," she grinned. "That contract was magically binding. Like an Unbreakable Vow, but without the flashy lights. You violate the terms, you die."

But the Dark Lord had missed her sinister speech, due to his passing out on the living room floor.

Sorry to Michael Jackson fans for that one little jibe. It's just a joke. Please, review! The next one may be up a bit sooner, but I've got pressure to finish this one Doctor Who fic, so no guarantees.