Author's Note: Hello my lovelies. No I have not passed onto the afterlife I was merely caught up with actual life. Here's a short little bit and I should have another chapter out shortly.

Get Off My Back

Biting the Bit

While Riddle was out of sight, doing God knows what, a craven little elf was taking care of Harry's needs. With a flick of its fingers, he was clean and his coat was shiny, but magic, though more thorough, was not as enjoyable as being brushed out like Withers used to do. Next the elf levitated out a saddle and dropped it onto his back.

As the girth began to tighten around his middle, Harry inwardly smirked. Inhaling a huge amount of air, he inflated his belly just as the girth was buckled.

The elf didn't notice a thing as it tried to fit the bit between his teeth. Harry refused to open his mouth, but the elf thrust a spindly finger behind his teeth and jabbed at the back of his tongue. Gagging, the animagus couldn't stop the bit from sliding home.

Harry couldn't help but glare hatefully at the little bastard.

"Are you done yet, Mutt?" Lord Wanker called, as arrogant as ever.

"Yes, Master!" The elf grabbed the reigns and started to tug him forward. Harry didn't move an inch. Vindictively, he watched the elf throw all of his weight forward, only to hang there at a forty degree angle.

"Will I have feed you to Nagini, Mutt? You are quickly running out of uses," Harry heard Voldemort drawl. The elf gave a squeal of terror and started crying as it pulled even harder at the reigns. Harry could feel the elf's magic try to lift him, but his body was too heavy.

Finally elf threw himself forward and hugged the animagus' leg.

"Please come, Horsey! Mutt'll be giving yous all the carrots yous be wanting! Mutt'll be taking good care of yous! Please come!" Mutt whispered frantically, banging his head on Harry's leg.

Harry deflated, he was such a sucker for house elves, and if he understood Voldemort correctly, this was the elf's last chance. If it couldn't handle Harry then it was going into Nagini's food dish.

With fattened ears, Harry shook Mutt off his leg and started clomping forward. Practically dancing a jig, Mutt grabbed the reigns and paraded out of the stable, it's bat-like ears twitching with elation.

Just outside of the stable stood Voldemort, wearing an outfit that Harry wished he could look away from, but thanks to his near 360 degree field of vision, no matter how he turned his head, he was still getting an eyeful.

"Dismissed." The brunette hissed at the elf without looking at it. With a squeak, the elf popped out of existence. Voldemort snatched the reigns and led him into an open field, and Harry would be lying if he said he hadn't been staring at the Dark Lord's ass on the way there. It wasn't like it was his fault! The wanker was wearing form-fitting, leather trousers! It was like he was asking Harry to stare at his tight, perky cheeks.

"Stay still, beast," said Mr. Perky Cheeks. His voice hard.

That's not the only thing that's hard.

With utmost confidence, Voldemort fisted his mane and the reigns at the base of Harry's neck. Harry smirked as felt Voldemort put a booted foot into one of the stirrups.

3, 2, 1.

At the same moment that Voldemort tried to hoist himself into the saddle, Harry blew out the breath he'd been holding and sucked in his stomach. The girth immediately slackened, and the saddle slipped down around his belly.


Harry snickered at the sight of the Dark Lord, who was dazed and flat on his back. A foot still tangled in the stirrup.

"You look good like that, Massster," Harry purred in parseltongue.

"You," Voldemort raged, kicking his feet, but only tangling his leg worse. "You will pay for that!" The wizard struggled to take his wand out. Still snickering, Harry started to trot, dragging a cursing dark lord along as he went.

"Please," Harry drawled, "That's the oldest trick in the book! Don't you know you're always supposed to check the girth before you mount up? You must be pretty new at this."

"I'll have your head on my wall!" Was Voldemort's pleasant reply.

"That would be tacky!" snapped Harry, feeling his inner interior designer rear its tasteful head. He shouldn't bothered though, the only reply he received was a teakettle-like screech.

"Was this really necessary?" Harry groused, his chin resting in the dirt. After trotting around the field a few times, Voldemort had finally gotten a hold of his wand. Before Harry could bolt, the bastard used that weird spell to sink him in the dirt. Now he was buried up to his chest, while Lord Wanker tried to regain his dignity.


Harry jerked when the bright red spell struck his face, but the unforgivable fizzed out without causing him any pain. All the same, maybe he should keep his mouth shut until the homicidal wizard cooled down.

"You know, performance issues in men of your age are not uncommon."

And there's that teakettle again...