Thank you again for all the wonderful reviews!
I'm sorry it took me so long to update... I hope you're all still with me?

On we go!

It's not romantic (or is it?)

„Finally!" Ginny exclaimed, her eyes flashing like two flashes in a thunderstorm. "I'm coming, my lord!"

Voldemort turned around brusquely and led the way, not to his bedroom in the cave, but to a secluded place at the beach.

Clearly his faithful Deatheaters had been working overtime to make this romantic island of love possible: a big round bed was standing in the middle of the beach, black umbrellas shading it from the hot summer sun.
The bed itself was green, with linen made of finest silk and loads of pillows in snake form. Some of them were moving around in a sexy kind of way and hissing a sweet love tune. Around the beach the Deatheaters had planted rosebushes in different shades of blood red and very dark (almost black) red. They were giving off a strong musky smell, which mingled with the cocoa scent which was coming from the fireplace. Yes, even a fireplace was there, complete with a fluffy rug in front of it.

"Ooooooooooooooooh!" Ginny cried. "It's just perfect, Mort!"
"Shut up, Ginevra", Voldemort replied cooly. "Get onto the bed and out of these rags you're wearing. It's time for action!"
"As you wish my lord."

Ginny was in a dreamlike state of bliss. To see her love in is full height, commanding voice, black velvet catsuit and all, his demonic eyes narrowing evilly – that was her Tom alright.
Kill the roosters. Ignore Hagrid. Not the other way round. Wait, I don't care. Do whatever you like. - Kill Colin Creevey. Bring me his camera. I'd like to take your photograph in the nude. - Write your farewell on the wall. With blood. No, don't sign it. Write it anonymously. Do it. DO it. DO IT.
She hadn't even tried to resist.

Oh yes. Power was the ultimate aphrodisiac.

Meanwhile at the Burrow, people were getting nervous. The only life sign they got from little Ginny in the last two weeks was a letter, brought by a seagull.

Hello Mum, Dad, numerous siblings, Harry, Hermione! Am following the call of my heart. Don't look for me, I am in good company. Peter isn't all that bad Harry, you are a bit unfair in your judgement sometimes. He's a sweet little rat, honestly. I am going to fight for Mort's (yes, that's VOLDEmort's) love. You'll all see! Love, Ginevra Molly Riddle

"We have to do something!" Ron mumbled for the twentieth time. "I just can't have Voldemort in the family. Ruins all the Christmas group photos. No, seriously. My sister's a little jerk most of the time, but this is getting out of hand. We need to bring her back!"

"And I have packed already! Let's go!"

"Who said that?" Harry spun around looking for the owner of the voice.
"Me," Dumbledore announced, beaming fondly down on his favourite protegé. "I located Miss Weasley in Bournemouth. Don't ask me how, or I'd have to kill you!"
"O.k. Are we all going?" Harry asked nonplussed.
"No, just me and you," Dumbledore crooned, still smiling. "You know you're the only one who can kill Voldy, as well as he's destined to kill y- oooops, did I just tell the Prophecy to the whole Order of the Phoenix?" He chuckled amiably. "Just forget I said anything! Nitwick Oddment Tweak! Hehe. So! Let's go, Harry."

A pronounced silence spread through the room and waved the two heroes farewell as they ran out of the house, to their brooms and down to Bournemouth.

Ploppp! The cork flew a satisfying arc before it hit the warm sand on the sunlit beach. The Darkest Lord of all, Lord Voldemort, was sitting on the edge of the bed, wearing only a family heirloom - Salazar Slytherins boxershorts -as he was putting a bottle of Odgen's finest ould Firechampagne to his bloodless lips. He emptied it.

"What are you looking at?" he demanded.
Ginny melted into the silken sheets. "Your flawless body, Mort. The fine pink hue the alcohol has magicked onto your aristocratic cheekbones. That little wonky Dark Mark in your armpit. That must have hurt, darling!"
"Yes. I have Avada'd the tatoo wizard on the spot."

"Maybe..errrrr... no."
"Say it."
"Maybe... I could have a sip? Only this is your fourth bottle and..."
"Well, how rude of me! Here, take a bottle. Give yourself Dutch courage!"
"Thank you my Master."

Suddenly, just as Ginny raised the bottle to her lips, Voldemort pulled himself together. Now or never, he thought to himself. Just a little bit closer. Touch her hand. No, screw that. Touch her breasts. Forcefully. GRAB HER BY THE BREASTS. And pull her over. Violently. Yes. THROW HER ONTO THE FLOOR AND- and what then?
Say something? No, waste of time. Kiss her? Maybe- NO. NO CUDDLING. Ok. A spell? A SPELL! SOMETHING TERRIBLE. Crucio? No, don't be so predictable. No one likes a predictable lover. I could Crucio myself! That would surprise her, and- DON'T BE SILLY: Sorry.

"Ehhhm. Mort?"
"What?" Voldemort was startled out of his inner dialogue.
Talking to myself, a bad habit. I should stop this- ARRRRGH. Stop. Now.

"Come over here, bitch," he said smoothly to cover the embarrassing pause. "Worship my underwear. It was worn by the great Salazar Slytherin himself. He used to wear nothing else under his robes. Do you want to know what lies beneath?"
Ginny shuddered. Her naked breasts shuddered with her, as she whispered "I love you" and bent to remove the faded silk from her lover's body. "But you have to get up, your sitting on the fabric."

"Everyone FREEZE!"

Dumbledore strode onto the beach, taking out Deatheater guards left and right. Harry followed in his wake, looking severely shaken by the sight of the almost-naked murderer of his parents.
"Oh no, Albus!" Voldemort cried exasperatedly. "Not now! And Harry Potter too. Get out of the sun, you meddling idiots!"
"There will be only one idiot today, Tom," Albus Dumbledore said, the magic crackling in his beard. "And it's not me. Nor Harry. And hopefully it's not Ginny either."
"Well, are you talking about me?" Voldemort cried in an annoyed sort of voice.

"EXACTLY."

Welllllll... Dumbledore and Harry to the rescue! Only, nobody needs THEM, do they? Who will be killed? Who will make love? The answers are near, my faithful readers!