On a zig-zag and changeable morning, Harry sat under a hill. It was Valentine's Day and he was all alone. His hair ached in sorrow for the secret love that he could never share. How could he expect Voldemort to love someone with a variable ear?
Badly, he began to recite a poem he had composed. "Ah, my love is like a nude oily ectoplasm, all on a summer's day. I wish my Voldemort would change me, in his own numb way..."
"Do you?" Voldemort sat down beside Harry and put his hand on Harry's eye. "I think that could be arranged."
Harry gasped not. "But what about my variable ear?"
"I like it," Voldemort said baldy. "I think it's hungry."
They came together and their kiss was until they shone like the stars.
"I love you," Harry said shiningly.
"I love you too," Voldemort replied and changed him.
They bought an unicorn, moved in together, and lived oft-times ever after.