Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody closed his eyes in peaceful solidity. At last it was Halloween. He might finally be able to free himself the lucidity inside the many trunks, on this, the night of sparkling spirits and overwhelmingly transient power. Barty Crouch had had to carry his trunk with him to visit and worship his master, Voldemort Riddle. He had to feed him every night at 7. The yogurt-based curdled tapioca mixture he carried in a condom was nearly at the boiling point- it was almost nineteen o'clock!
The trunk clicked open and the familiar scent of putrid fish flesh filled his compartment. It used to remind him of his ex-wife, Mustang Sally, but now it just reminded him of the fear he had acquired of the creepy Barty Crouch, Jr. as he would come in and strip him of his dna bit-by-bit, sometimes by hair, sometimes by cockjuice.
His aching member weeped as bitter light shone upon his tired, achy eyeballs. And testicles. And ben wa balls. Assfuck.
But as the trunk was being closed, he saw a dismembered hand hold it open. A snake-like face peered in. The slit eyes narrowed even further until the unmistakable visage of Voldemort seemed to have turned into that of a ching-chong chinaman. His head smacked on the lid and Voldemort spit blood down onto the prisoner. He coughed and one of his lungs burst from his throat, but then he swalloed it back down like a book about a swan. He slithered down onto the cold, hard paisley bottom of the trunk and sat with his little bitch-baby body. Moody retreated in fear. Voldemort smiled like a sneezing vampire and moved closer to him.
"Moody, I've been waiting for years to meet you."
Moody shat himself in laborious glee. His nipples became erect, but he was cautious. He'd devoted his entire life to defeating this snakey, lakey monster.
Riddle Voldy sighed and looked away sensitively. "I've been planning a meeting with you for all time. Everyone thinks my life goal is to kill Harry Potter; it's not true. This whole time I've been anticipating our first meeting. I've craved your for my whole life. I.. I love you."
Moody trembled, accidentally biting his lip clear off and swallowing it nervously. Since Bartina was using his eye, his lone dark one shifted away from his suitor in abject modesty. Voldemort stood and walked away from the trembling man-puddle on the floor.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry I've done this to you. But at least... now... we can be together."
Moody looked up in awe at his captor. His eyes narrowed in realization. His heart bloomed and loved overtook his soul. "I love you too, Voldie."
Voldemort swooped down on the creamily disfigured frankenstein before him like a bat on an aloe plant. He yearned for a sweet, supple, subjugating kiss but Moody pulled away from him as though Voldemort was a bee and he, Moody, were something pulling away from that bee.
"Wait." said Moody. "I'm not ready for this." He backed up to his favorite corner of his cell, the one not smeared with his own feces and piss. Voldemort watched him sadly and nodded. "I understand." He forced the trunk open with his brawny man-arms and climbed out, avada kedavring "Mad-Eye" and lifting Mad-Eye's brawny man-body out of its confines. They kissed briefly but tenderly. The sack of fluid that was once Mad-Eye Moody sagged and lost control of its bowels. Shit covering his short little baby robes, Voldemort began to sing a hauntingly desperate song of cheese and crackers and hunting and loneliness and dirt and dead pickaxes and other things in that general category. He fell to the floor with his beloved and they began to weep together. It was a hauntingly beautiful, in a haunting, pretty sort of way. They didn't know how they would tackle the world, they didn't know how they'd combat the homophobia, or the worms, but they knew one thing: they would take it one day at a time, and they would take it one day at a time, together, and they would take it together, the both of them, together. Together.
Together.