Disclaimer: I, in no way, own or created any of these characters.

A/N: This story is not meant to be taken seriously. It is not a parody of the current presidential election. Voldemort is not supposed to symbolize McCain, or Obama, or any other candidate, or Bush. Flames from offended readers will either be disregarded or sent to all my friends.

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"Bellatrix!" Voldemort thundered, upon entering the Malfoy Manor. A few tiny Death Eaters scrambled away from him. Sheepishly, Bellatrix Lestrange, his most trusted and adored follower, approached him.

"My Lord?" she asked tentatively.

"Bellatrix, I've failed again!" he moaned dramatically, collapsing into one of Lucius's many, fluffy armchairs. Bellatrix had to wonder if Narcissa had chosen it out; pink velvet never seemed like Lucius's upholstery of choice. "He slipped through my fingers, that greasy brat! How shall I continue on?"

"Well," Bella said reasonably, "we could see what we did wrong, and then go back and try to fix it."

"Oh, it's no use!" Voldemort wailed. He looked very close to tears. "Bellatrix, dear, sweet, loving Bellatrix," she preened a bit, "I have a confession for you," he whispered.

"Oh, My Lord, I feel the same way!" she gasped. "I'll tell Rodolphus, we can be divorce by tomorrow, and you and I can spend the rest of our lives together as outlaws in Italy!"

"What? No. What the hell are you talking about? Stop talking!" Bella felt as though Christmas was canceled, and she wouldn't be able to sit on Voldemort's lap and tell him that she wanted world domination and some scented candles. But, evermore, she quieted. "I was distracted today," he said miserably. "You see, before we went to kill Harry as he left his beloved aunt's house, I went shopping."

"Oh?"

"Yes, and I was walking down the streets, and all of the people were running from me, screaming and sobbing, and that's when I realized it," his red eyes really were brimming with tears now, "nobody loves me."

"I—"

"Shut up, Bellatrix! As I was saying," he whimpered, "none of my people love me. I'm their leader, and, and, it's like they don't think I could do a good job? Is that all I am to them, a murderer?"

"We could kill everyone who's afraid of you," Bella said kindly.

"No, that won't do at all!" he sobbed. Then he stopped, his eyes lighting up dramatically. "I should run for president!"

"My Lord, we don't have presidents. And we already have Thicknesse as the minister, I don't think…"

"Bellatrix, stop talking! In Wizarding America they have a president, and the people always choose him! That means, when they choose me, they'll have to love me! That's how democracy works!"

"My Lord," Bellatrix said gently, "no, that's not how it works in America. You have to have to people running for the presidency. And we've had Ministers of Magic for over a thousand years! Wizards didn't even come to America until the eighteen-hundreds."

"Bellatrix, as my first act as president, I am revoking your freedom of speech. But until then, you and your vast knowledge of politics could help me. Now, I need an opponent, yes?" Bella nodded, feeling disconcerted. "Hmm, tell me, who is the most utterly repulsive, least lovable person you know?"

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Severus Snape was sitting with his nose so close to Dumbledore's desk, so completely engrossed in whatever he was reading, that he didn't notice Bellatrix's head pop into his fireplace. She waited for a moment, but when he didn't look up, she called out, "Snape! Get your head out of your pornography!" Well, he darted up so quickly he knocked his lamp of his desk and the floor caught fire!

"Was that really necessary?" he hissed, extinguishing the flames with a jet of cool water. Bella grinned proudly.

"Voldemort has a proposition for you," she said, her catlike grin not fading.

"Well, tell him I'm sorry, but with my wedding to Umbridge fast approaching, I really can't take on any more lovers."

"You are such a prat, you know that?" she snapped. He leered at her. "He wants you to run for president." Snape's leer faded into a look of utmost confusion.

"We don't have presidents. Or campaigns. The Minister's appointed."

"Well, he wants to be elected by the people. For some reason, he wants them to love him."

"Then that's his problem. What do I have to do with it?"

"He wants a fair election, you see. So you need to run against him. But if you when, he'll kill you and take over."

"That's not how it works."

"I don't care! You're running for bloody president."

"Why aren't you his opponent?" Snape asked coyly. For a moment, Bella scowled, but she quickly recovered herself.

"He's looking for someone really repulsive."

"I hate you." He sighed, "I haven't a choice, do I?"
"Nope!" she cheered. "But good luck anyway!" Happily, she pulled her head out of the fire and bounced over to Voldemort. "He agreed!" she cheered.

"Excellent," he said darkly, turning so he was back-lit by the fire. "Step one in my twelve-step plan is complete. Today, we celebrate; tomorrow, we campaign!"

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A/N: Good? Bad? Should I keep going? Please review!