Harry Potter was almost dead, yet almost in bed. For you see, silly Voldemort had been turned into an 18 year old anime girl with the deepest of blue eyes and the brightest of black hair and the slimmest of asses. He was not merely hot- he was smoking. His Avada Kadevras, once stated with the deepest of growls, had become distinctly feminine in nature. His death eaters had become plushies. What would become of Harry Potter?

No one knows how this had all come about, but it did. Voldemort at the sound of his...err her voice, gave a very unmanly feminine yelp. He as one might now refer to him, she, stood frozen in place. She very slowly, likely due to the overwhelming shock, inspected her newly feminine fingers and almost as if ordered down, her new womanly additions she nearly leapt a foot back in horror. The direction of his gaze seemingly intent on being anywhere but her new self. Harry on the other hand had no trouble staring at his enemy.

"What has happened to me!" Voldemort meowed - certainly not growled-in her now cute-as-daisy voice. She continued to fall onto her knees; bending her feet and holding them with her arms. "WHYYY!!." She then proceeded to bawl her eyes out. Harry, by now mostly over his lusting looks that came with his age, rushed to her and proceeded to comfort her with soothing words.

"DON'T TOUCH ME," Voldemort shouted, in a way that stank more of former boyfriend than disgusted former demigod. Harry fell in love in an instant. The desire was clear. The wanting was there. The plan had a name! "Get Voldie to Date Me!"

Despite Voldemort's sudden tendency to become overemotional, her small delicate gasps did calm and tears stopped gushing out of her long thin eyelashes. Unbeknown to Voldemort, Harry found their batting intoxicatingly beautiful. Harry decided, it would be best to appease to Voldemort's logical side.

"Come now, you can't stay on the floor forever. What's done is done," Harry whispered gently as to not frighten the delicate creature in front of him. He reached out a hand imploringly and waited.

The figure on the floor seemed not to have heard him at first. Her blue eyes gazed at the hand as if it were a venomous snake. Wasn't this the boy he was destined to terminate least he meet his own end at his hands? Wasn't this the boy whose parents he killed without remorse? Why would he want to help him... her he corrected begrudgingly, now? Throwing caution to the wind, she let her hand be taken by Harry's own and was helped up. There was no other option, Voldemort realized. Her Death Eaters were adorable plushies strewn across the floor, more than a little incapable to help her now. And her wand was pocketed in Harry's pants. She was at his mercy now.

The next day, and Hogsmeade was abuzz. "Did ya hear? Did ya hear?" Shouted one man with glee. "Voldemort is hot now! And not a threat to me!" Another man hawked Death Eater plushies, shouting one Galloon for two! Two Galloons for five!" The world was at peace, except for one guy.

I want to ask her, but I'm not sure how. By Merlin, is Voldie a top-tier gal!
Harry skipped along, happy as a bee. It was there he ran into Ginny.

"Oh hi Ginny, how nice to meet you here!"

"Harry, let's grab a beer."

"I'm afraid I can't, for you see, I have girl problems currently." Harry replied woefully.

"Girl problems, woman problems, fuck them all, just stick that up me, you know, your beautiful balls!"

Harry was astounded and more than a little pleased. He started to follow, only to fall on his knees. Why am I like this, even while with a gal! It feels like when Volde-

He realized with a start. 'Without Voldie, I'm falling apart.'

He immediately told Ginny to go fuck herself. She would not satisfy him. Only one gal possibly could, and he dearly hoped she eventually would. But how could any of that happen if she wasn't here with him? So Harry ran to the nearest floo and gave Voldie a call. He asked her if he could see her and in a soft whisper Voldemort consented. Harry came through the fire place and with a spin he landed on a plush rug. With a burning blush he picked himself off the floor and gave Voldemort his full attention.

To his surprise she was wearing a tight bright green tank top and a leather mini skirt. Long Boots littered with glints of metal adorned her feet. She was sitting, her legs crossed elegantly, reading a book titled "All You Need to Know about Being a Woman" To Harry's amusement Voldemort had a horrified expression on his face while reading. Voldemort shook her head as if to allow the words he had just read to mercifully fall out, and turned her delicate neck towards Harry's direction. Harry knew that in just minutes, he would get his wish. Voldemort gracefully sat up and laid down on her plush bed, beckoning Harry to her like a siren…

Harry woke up in bed, sweating bullets. "Did I just have sex with Voldemort?" Besides him, a person buried under an assortment of pillows and blankets stirred to the side. Noting his and the person -he? she?- Beside him, Harry's hormone-addled mind jumped quickly to the conclusion that none of us should ever have to make. "I JUST HAD SEX WITH VOLDEMORT," he screamed. "What. The. Fuck." Shock turned into anger then transitioned into disbelief. Covering his eyelids with his hands, he then sunk back into the bed.

Besides him, the lump of body stirred out of the bed, placing the blanket aside. "Where am I? All I remember is a few flashes here and there...and a book." Turning his head in response to a movement on the bed, he noticed Harry. "Whoop! I just had sex with a man," the man screamed. Miles Edgeworth then edged off into the horizon, stumbling his way to the courtroom, where he had to defend one Voldie Voldemort before the court of law.

As for Harry, he woke up with a migraine, and a sense of despair smellier than the dirtiest sock, filthier than the worst slum, and hornier than a goat on Viagra. Yes sir, he was a Potter, and g-r-r he was a man. He was fully heterosexual, not a bull! Or was he? He wanted to have sex with Voldemort!

As the sun started to rise, and the thought of demise entered Harry Potter's brain, Harry thought about his options. A memory spell would be great, but he didn't want to make a mistake and end up like Lockhart. The answer came to him in a flash.

"Where are you, Ginny? Harry wants to "play.""