Make War, Not Love-

Voldemort-

Voldemort walked through one of the corridors of Hogwarts school. It was all to easy for him. He had found the secret entrance from the Shrieking Shack in Hogsmeade. The Whomping Willow had been something of a distraction…Dudley had nearly lost his head. One thing that Voldemort could say for that old tree was the fact that it had a great right-hand. Or was it right-branch? Whichever, it would have beaten any who stood before it. (And it did…constantly.)

"Why did you bring me along?" Dudley asked, sounding shy and quite. "Not that I'm complaining. I am just confused as to why."

"Bait. Battering. Whatever. You're just here." Voldemort said in an emotionless voice. "Oh! And you made quite a good pillow last night. Comfy for one's bald head."

There was the sound of footsteps ahead.

Voldemort threw his arm in front of Dudley to stop him moving, watching as the silhouette came into view. "Ah! A ginger boy! Must be a Weasley!" He said in a confident tone.

Dudley gave him a look of confusion and almost delirious fear.

Voldemort shrugged his shoulders. "Weasley's are notoriously ginger." He stated before walking over towards the boy.

They stopped, frozen with fear and shock. "How did you get in here?" He asked in a shaky voice.

"Never mind that. Tell me your name." Voldemort said, pointing his wand in the boy's face.

"Ron Weasley." He replied, swallowing hard and staring at the piece of wood that was poking his nose.

"Ah. The Weasley boy whom is so close to Potter."

Ron made a snorting sound in disagreement.

"You send letters to him all summer! I have seen them!" Dudley blurted.

Ron nodded his head. "Yes. I did."

"Then tell me where the boy is." Voldemort said, pushing the wand against Ron's face with more force, causing his nose to be pushed back against his face.

Ron snickered. "I gladly would. Believe me, I would. But, at this moment in time, I am actually searching for him myself." He replied, looking mildly arrogant. The fear was still showing throw his failing façade of bravery.

"Really? I thought you were his best friend? Why would you of all people need to look for him?" Voldemort asked, sounding less enthusiastic than he felt. Something weird was definitely happening. Weasley was planning on deceiving Potter, if he could, to the boy's worst enemy. His arch nemesis. Something major must have happened for them to be acting like this towards each other.

"Because he is being a bloody idiot, that's why." Ron retorted, folding his arms and pulling a face like a smacked bottom.

"Oh, really? More than usual then?" Voldemort enquired again, moving the wand slowly away from Ron's face, giving him a little more ease of breathing.

"Yeah." Ron choked, almost grinning. "He's hiding something from me. And I think I know what it is." His face distorted into one of sadness and gazing at the floor below his feet.

"And what is that then?" Voldemort asked, placing his wand under Ron's chin to make him look at his face.

Ron gritted his teeth. "He is having a secret relationship with the girl I love!" He spat back.

Voldemort snickered and shook his head from side to side. "These…women are worth less than they are made out to be." He said. "Personally, I think love is the cause of most of our problems." He felt a stab in his chest at these words. Love was useless. It was futile. A life with love was one not worth living. It caused only pain and insanity. Friendship was futile too. Now, leadership, that was where the money was these days. The days of 'Whoo! Let's be best friends for life and braid each others hair and paint each others nails' were long gone. (Not that Voldemort did any of those things when he had friends…more like: 'If you don't bake me a cake, I kill you by pushing my wand up your nose.')

"You don't understand!" Ron shrieked in a pained manner, "She is worth more than anything to me and that Harry Potter is getting all the glory again. Just 'cos he's the famous one! With all his money and-and…fame!"

"Ermm…I think you already stated he was famous." Voldemort said, placing a hand upon the frustrated teen's shoulder. "Fear not, young Weasley, I have a way of you being able to get this…girl, that you so obviously desire." He leaned closer to Ron, so that he could whisper into his ear. "When you discover the whereabouts of Potter, send sparks up into the air with your wand and I shall some running to slaughter the filthy slug." Voldemort turned away and walked out of the building, Dudley hot on his trail.

"Do you really think that love is worthless?" Dudley asked in an all too-inquisitive voice.

Voldemort turned around quickly to see him twiddling his thumbs once again. Voldemort made an annoyed grumbling sound under his breath. "Would you please stop doing that? It is most irritating when one is trying to plot evil." He sighed and rubbed his long-nailed-finger across his forehead, trying to ease the newly formed headache that he had just acquired.

"I didn't use to believe that love was worthless but things within my life time have made me see the light." He said in a frustrated tone. "Why do you want to know anyway?" He snapped, turning to stare at Dudley.

The boy was shaking violently, his body rippling with fear. "Just wondering." He replied.

That was all the either of them said to each other whilst they walked back to their hiding place.