This story is the result of boredom during time spent at my grandparents. My sister and I were joking around, got a little carried away, and this story was born. It actually started out as two separate stories that the two of us wrote, and then we combined our genius ideas together to form this.
Hopefully you find yourself laughing as much as we did, but beware in advance of some serious cheesiness.
Reviews are greatly appreciated. Enjoy!
Put A Spell On Me
By TheHoppingPot and SeerScarlet49
"Bellatrix?" Voldemort sighed.
"Yes, my lord?"
"I require your services," he stated, and led her over to a cot in the small bedroom down the hall.
"Of course my lord," she whispered. "Anything for you my lord."
"Well, the problem is Bellatrix," he smirked. "It has been quite some time since I have had a certain human experience."
"Whatever do you mean my lord?" she asked.
"Let's put it in an easy way to understand," he stated. "My wand, let's say, needs a cauldron to be put into."
"Yes, my lord, I can run down to Diagon Alley immediately."
"That's not what I meant, Bellatrix," Voldemort replied while smirking.
Bellatrix's cheeks became a darker shade of crimson by the second.
"My lord, I had no idea, no inclination…"
"I am only human," Voldemort mumbled.
"No," Bellatrix whispered, licking her lips, "You are much, much more."
Voldemort grinned with his foul, yellow smile. "Now Bellatrix, the others must not know."
"Never my lord," she replied, removing her robe.
Voldemort allowed his own robe to slip to the ground, and Bellatrix smiled in delight. With one glance down, she began to state, "My lord, this is an honour. Your wand is very exceptional," she continued.
"It's not the wand, it's the wizard," Voldemort told her.
Bellatrix giggled. "I beg to differ my lord."
Voldemort chuckled.
"There is one problem though, my lord," she added. "Your wand, it is rather limp."
"Not to worry," he told her. "I recently bought a bottle of Wandiagra in Diagon Alley."
"Oh my lord, you dog!"
"Oh Bellatrix, you charm me."
"No my lord, it is in fact you that charms me."
It was then that Voldemort leaned forward to capture Bellatrix's lips in his.
*Epilogue*
The week after the encounter, Voldemort found that his wand was unable to perform his expectations.
"Tell me Ollivander," he threatened. "Why is it that my wand has not performed what I require it to do?"
"Well," Ollivander began, "As you know, the wand chooses the wizard."
"Yes, Ollivander, you have already made this clear," Voldemort said impatiently. "Now, who does it belong to?"
"It seems," Ollivander responded. "That your wand now belongs to Mrs. Lestrange."
Voldemort chuckled at the thought of that wonderful night.
"It seems, Ollivander," Voldemort smirked. "That you are correct."