Social Suicide
Disclaimer: Don't own anything.
Voldmort never got mail. Well, almost never. Most of his mail was bills anyway, so mail never actually made him happy. Today was different. He had gotten a letter - how exciting. Quickly he tore it open, and was disappointed to see only a few lines.
To the loveliest of all dark lords,
I don't know how to tell you this, but I can't help myself. I have been dying to tell you this but every time I get close enough to talk to you, you try and kill me. So I am writing you a note informing you of how much I love you. And I want you to know that I forgive you for killing my parents, and try to kill me on numerous occasions.
With love,
Harry
This was priceless - he had to tell somebody. He picked up the phone, and dialed number.
Rita Skeeter answered. Oh, he could already see the headlines.