The Epic Saga of the Romance of Harry Potter and Lord Voldemort!
Theirs was a tragic story, marred by expectations of hatred between them. Yet it was written in the stars from the very beginning that they would be lovers from the first time they laid eyes upon each other. They would find a way to let their love flourish, even if they had to set a stage of deception far and wide to satisfy the crowds hungry for their feud.
Our tale begins late one afternoon, in the toy aisle of Wal-Mart. Harry Potter was searching for a birthday present for his daughter. As he was staring at figurines of himself and reminiscing about the good old days, he suddenly felt a cool breath on the back of his neck. He turned around and stared into the eyes of none other than Lord Voldemort!
Voldemort spoke softly, slowly, "Harry. I've been looking for you." He then bent down to tie his shoe, giving Harry time to vaguely wonder about the fact that he'd never seen Voldemort's shoes before... strange, huh?
Harry spoke up slightly hesitantly, "You've been looking for me? Why for?" Voldemort responded, "Because…. I need you." He suddenly pulled Harry close to him, and breathed into his ear, "I know you want me. I know you know I want you. So let's make this easy on both of us and admit that we've moved past that childish stage of pleasing the masses. It's just you and me now, baby."
Chills ran up and down Harry's spine, and his legs turned to jelly. He could just imagine it, grabbing his broomstick and running off with Voldemort, flying off into the sunset with Voldemort's arms wrapped tightly around his waist. He didn't care where they would go; he would follow his lover to the ends of the earth! Voldemort took his hand and led him out of the store, into the bright October sunshine. Harry found where he had parked his broom, and took off into the sunset, followed by Voldemort riding a thestral. They headed straight for the Black residence, which Sirius had left to Harry in his will. Once there and hidden from the world, they plotted their next move. "I say we make for the Caribbean," declared Harry. Voldemort argued back, "It's too bright there; I say we go to Russia! It's close enough to here where you can still visit old friends of yours, but far enough that we can begin anew." Harry mulled it over, and in the end decided it was a grand plan.
The next morning, they set out on their respective modes of transportation and made their way to Moscow. They arrived that afternoon and found refuge in the attic of an old church. As they sat and waited for night to fall, they talked about their adventures in the past. Eventually they ran out of stories, and stared at each other for awhile. Voldemort then got up and walked over to the window. "Come look at this," he called. Harry walked over and gasped in a deep breath of air. "It's beautiful!" he cried. The city lights gently illuminated the light snowfall on the streets as far as his eye could see. With the setting sun just barely above the horizon, the atmosphere oozed with romantic electricity.
Suddenly, Harry was aware that he was being watched. He turned his head and caught Voldemort's eyes staring hungrily down at him. "V-Voldemort?" he stuttered, "Is something wrong?" "Harry," was his only reply, before he swooped down and pinned Harry against the wall with a fiery kiss. Harry was breathless from the intensity of a so seemingly simple action. After a few seconds he recovered, and replied by wrapping his arms around Voldemort's neck and pulling him in for a deeper kiss. He felt something poke him in the stomach, but barely thought anything of it. Voldemort suddenly pulled out of the kiss and yelled "AVADA KEDAVRA!" before pulling the trigger on the Russian Makarov pistol that he had pressed into Harry's stomach. Voldemort looked down at the bright red pool of blood slowly flowing out from Harry's body, and felt he had never been so in love.