A/N: This is the stupidest thing I've ever written so far. It may turn into an absurd miniseries, but we'll see.

This takes place toward the very end of Deathly Hallows when Harry goes to meet Voldemort in the forest. I think I'll leave it at that. I hope you enjoy it?

"I thought he would come. I expected him to come. I was, it seems…mistaken," said Voldemort.

"You weren't."

Gasps filled the air as the Death Eaters spun in unison toward the source of the voice, their lips curling up into devious smiles as their gazes landed on the forest clearing. Harry Potter stood there, empty-handed and alone. He approached the gathering, walking confidently toward his imminent demise. Protestations from Hagrid fell on deaf ears, and the woods were silent.

Voldemort tilted his head toward Harry, raising his wand in the boy's direction. "Harry Potter. The Boy Who Lived."

As the Dark Lord cocked his arm, preparing to hurl the finishing blow, Harry's mind was anything but calm. Wait a second. What if they were wrong? My parents, Sirius, Lupin; what if all those ghosts were completely barking? After all, they're just…ghosts. How the hell should they know what's going to happen?

Just before the spell was released from Voldemort's wand, Harry dove aside, pulling his own wand from his jacket. "EXPELLIARMUS!"

Two dueling arcs of light connected in midair, fusing the two wands together as each wielder held on for dear life. Electricity crackled in the in between, sending off sparks at random as the onlookers backed away.

"Hey!" Harry called after several moments. "Can we just…maybe talk about this for a minute?"

Voldemort sneered back at him. "Talk? There's nothing left to talk about, Potter! It's not time to talk, it's time to die!"

"Yeah, I know, but surely we can find a way to work this out!"

"Ignore him, my lord! Now's your chance! Kill him!" Bellatrix screamed.

"Work this out?" Voldemort drawled, waving a dismissive hand in Lestrange's direction. "I've been hunting you for years! How, pray tell, do you propose we work it out?"

"I don't know, but…look, can you just stop trying to murder me for one second so we don't have to shout?"

"BUT I LOVE SHOUTING!"

"It's kind of hurting my throat, though."

Resigned, Voldemort shrugged his shoulders and sighed. "Ugh, fine. Can't believe it's been this hard to kill such a whiny little piece of…okay, on the count of three, we both let go. One, two, THREE!"

The connection broke off with a loud snap, and both wizards stepped back, still holding their wands aloft just in case.

"You wanted to talk," Voldemort called. "So…talk."

"D'you think we could lower the…maybe just a little bit?"

With a roll of his eyes, Voldemort groaned. "Merlin, fine! Is that better?" he asked, dropping his arm back to his side.

"Thank you," Harry answered, ignoring He Who Must Not Be Named's performative curtsy. "Now, clearly we have some issues to work out here."

Voldemort slammed his hands onto his popped hip. "Oh, you think?!"

"I was just hoping that it didn't have to be this way, you know? You've killed some of my friends, we've killed some of yours. Maybe we can figure out a compromise to avoid all this killing. It needs to stop."

"You don't seem to get it, though. I like killing."

"Yeah, I'm seeing that, but…don't you agree that that's a really creepy thing to say? I totally understand your beef with me; I showed you up when I was just an infant. Like, I absolutely crushed you. Didn't even leave you a body to roam around in. Come to think of it, that had to be completely humiliating."

"Can we arrive at the point, please?" Voldemort asked, tapping his foot and scratching the back of his hairless head.

"Right, so I understand why you want me dead, but what about everyone else? For instance, what has Ernie Macmillan done to you? Or Molly Weasley? Or Seamus Finnigan? Or Lavender Brown?"

"Don't even get me started on Lavender Brown; I have no idea how you managed to put up with that for all those years."

"Right? I know, don't even mention her around my friend Ron…but seriously," Harry begged, taking a few small steps toward his nemesis. "They're all innocent. They just happen to be there. Let's just see what you and I can agree to, man to…well, man, I suppose."

"Ignoring that particularly hurtful slight," Voldemort retorted, arms crossed over his chest, "you seem to be forgetting my ultimate goal. Pureblood domination. Anyone who stands in the way of that is my enemy!"

"But why? Who cares? You're not even pureblood yourself! Technically, I'm the most pureblooded person in this whole strange enclave you've got going on here, and I could care less whether my classmates or any other wizard has muggle parents or not. Take my friend Hermione; her parents are both muggles, and yet she's-"

"The brightest witch of our age, yes, we know, even we never stop hearing about it," Voldemort answered. "And how dare you call my blood impure? Who do you think you are?"

"I mean…facts, man."

For several moments, Voldemort considered Harry. His narrow, slit-like eyes never left those of his ever-present foil, and his mind was clearly poring over his options. Harry had never thought he'd actually go for any of this; he was sure he should've been dead by now. Maybe there was more to Voldemort than he'd originally thought?

"So…let's just say, hypothetically, that I abandon my long-term goals and agree to a ceasefire."

"NOOOOO!" Bellatrix screeched, dashing forward and kneeling at the feet of her master. "Don't tell me you're actually considering what this…this insolent fool has to say? He's nothing but traitorous scum trying to save his own neck! You're the Dark Lord! You answer to no man!"

"Bella, you're embarrassing yourself. Can you please have a modicum of chill here? Everything doesn't have to be so epic all the time," he chastised before turning back to Harry. "Sorry. You know what they say about good help. Anyway, what's your offer? The way I see it, I have the upper hand here. What are you willing to do for me in return for sparing your friends' lives?"

"Well," Harry stammered, "I, uhh, I hadn't really thought about it. What do you want?"

"PUREBLOOD DOMINATION! Weren't you listening?"

"But besides that. There has to be something else."

Voldemort raised an eyebrow as he stared back at Harry, the boy's heart hammering in his chest. Was it stupid to have even considered this type of negotiation? They were mortal enemies, for Merlin's sake!

A lone robin flying between the pines caught You Know Who's attention, and he followed after it, his long black robe trailing after him along the carpet of leaves and twigs. The bird landed in a nearby tree, hopping further down the branch towards the contemplative Dark Lord. When Voldemort held out his hand, the small animal flew onto it and tweeted a pleasing melody, prompting a grin to appear on his face as he stroked the bird's wing with a delicate pinky. He chuckled before lifting his palm towards the sky, inviting the bird to fly away, granting it the freedom it desired. A satisfied grin was still spread across his face as he walked back toward The Boy Who Lived.

"Okay, so there is one thing, but you'll never agree to it."

"Try me."

"It's absolutely preposterous, the more I think about it."

"It can't hurt to ask, right?"

"So, I've been thinking a lot lately about what comes next," Voldemort started, pacing back and forth in front of his posse. "Not in the eternal sense, I don't have to worry about that for years. Horcruxes, am I right? No, I'm referring to the next several years of my life. Say I defeat you, become ruler of the world, and wipe out all of the Mudbloods."

"Could we not use that word, please?" Harry asked.

"Son of a-fine, let's say I eliminate the muggle-borns. Better? You know, your generation is so sensitive. Now, moving on, what then? What happens next? I just…rule? Am I the Minister of Magic? Does the Ministry even still exist? Do I have to build an entirely new government? Because, honestly, that sounds exhausting. And, between you and me," he said, inching closer and dropping his voice to a whisper, "these Death Eaters aren't exactly the quickest brooms in the shed, if you catch my drift."

"Erm, right. It would be a lot of work."

"And the only reason people would do what I say is because they think I'll kill them if they don't. And I would, of course. I'd probably enjoy it at first. But after a while…I don't know, I'm just not sure if that would be enough for me, you know?"

"I totally get it," Harry replied with a nod. "It sounds like a pretty lonely life."

"Exactly! Thank you! It's like you're the first person that really gets that. Maybe because you were so lonely for the first eleven years of your life."

"Thanks for bringing that up, but sure, maybe that's why."

"Anyway, I think I've finally realized what would be missing from my life in that situation. It's a bit embarrassing because that geriatric hippie that Snape managed to off last year has been saying it all along, but…it's love. Friendship. Companionship. Someone to talk to, someone to come home to at the end of the day. You see, I could never have that. The inherent power imbalance makes any kind of relationship between equals impossible with this lot. There's only one person who is truly on my level, only one person who I consider an equal."

"And that is?" Harry asked, afraid that he already knew the answer.

"It's you, Harry. It's always been you."

To say that Harry's insides were squirming would be an inadequate portrayal of the situation. He was more uncomfortable than he'd ever been in his entire life, and that was saying something. What does a person say to that?

"Erm, thanks," he finally answered, staring down at his shoes. "I'm…honored?"

"Well, you're welcome," Voldemort replied. "I mean it, really."

"So, what are you suggesting?"

"Well, if I'm going to give up all of my power and influence, I'd want to make a clean start. Find a hobby, get a job. Live in the Muggle world for a change, maybe. I can't stand them, of course, and I'm not saying I'd retire my wand for good, but perhaps I could be…less reliant upon it going forward. I've heard some good things. For example, their cinemas intrigue me."

"Okay. Okay, sure. Muggle world makes sense, too. I don't think anyone in the magical world would hire you, you know?"

"Too right, I probably threatened their families at some point!" Voldemort said, roaring with laughter.

Harry forced an uncomfortable chuckle. "Ha, yeah, maybe."

"Oh, this is all just so adorable," Bellatrix said, "but we seem to be careening entirely off track. Not moments ago, you were going to kill him, my lord! Now you two are going to see a film together?"

He Who Must Not Be Named shrugged. "What can I say, Bella? He makes good points. Besides, I'll admit that this whole…persona has become tiring. I need a rest. Reconstituting oneself is physically exhausting, and I'm sick of being on the run. I just want to be…Tom again."

"And what about the rest of us? Many of us have been your loyal followers for decades! Would you simply toss us to the side?"

"No, not exactly. We can still get together from time to time, but instead of Crucio-ing half-bloods and setting things on fire, we can try a nice Indian restaurant. Or perhaps game night!"

"Game night?" Bellatrix repeated, her eyes wide with fury. "You propose to discard all of the progress you've made, everything we've sacrificed for…simply for game night?!"

"Have you ever tried Risk? I've heard it can get pretty intense."

"I can't believe what I'm hearing! Have you gone mad? Has he got you under the Imperius curse? Filthy Potter, I'll show you!"

Just as Bellatrix's arm rose and a raging fire glinted in her eye, Voldemort gave his own wand a lazy flick, sending his top lieutenant soaring through the air and depositing her against the trunk of a large birch tree, her body immobilized in a full body bind.

The Dark Lord tutted as he stored his wand back inside his robes, shaking his head as he looked back up at Harry with sympathy.

"I apologize. She means well, but she can come on awfully strong. I'll talk to her, don't worry." Turning to address the rest of his followers, he continued. "Does anybody else take issue with this change of plans?"

Each of the Death Eaters responded by taking a step backward, none of them daring to even make eye contact with their master.

"Good," Voldemort said. "In any case, where were we?"

"Erm, I think you wanted to get a Muggle job and go to the cinema?"

"Right! All of these opportunities I've been missing throughout the years while in pursuit of this goal that now seems so irrelevant and fruitless. And all while feeling so isolated at the top of an ultimately unnecessary power structure. I want people in my life that will be true friends and appreciate me for me, not just for my ability to destroy their enemies or occasionally turn into a flaming snake. And I just know you would be the perfect person. We've already been connected for years by magic and prophecy. What say we take the next step and become linked by physical address? Harry Potter, will you be my roommate?"

If Harry's pulse sped up any higher, his heart was liable to explode. His mouth was bone dry and he shifted back and forth on his feet. The idea sounded absolutely ludicrous; how was he supposed to share a flat with his lifelong adversary? But agreeing to the proposal could end the war. Nobody else would have to die for him. Ron and Hermione, Mr and Mrs Weasley, Hagrid and Professor McGonagall…Ginny…they would all be fine. They would all have a future. If a little bit of discomfort was all it took to help realize that world, it was a small price to pay.

"Alright, you've got a deal," Harry said, heaving a great sigh.

Voldemort's face lit up like a snake at feeding time. "That's wonderful, Harry! Couple of small things; one, I'll need my own bathroom. Trust me. This physiology of mine is, shall we say, less than natural, and you don't want to know what comes out the other side. Two, if you leave dirty dishes on the coffee table, I will put you under the Imperius curse and force you to clean them up. I cannot be any clearer on that point. Three, I'd really appreciate it if I could have the room with more natural light."

"Erm, sure, I think we can make that work," Harry replied with an uncomfortable nod.

"Oh, I'm looking forward to this so much, I can't even begin to tell you. I think it'll do wonders for my sense of work-life balance, don't you agree? And I just know we'll get along splendidly once we stop trying to assassinate one another, especially because there's a part of my soul inside you already!"

"I'm sorry, what?"

"What? Drinks all around! Dolohov, music!"

As Antonin Dolohov summoned a fiddle out of thin air and started playing a jig, Harry rubbed his eyes, digging the palms of his hands into the sockets. Was this really happening? Had he just ended the war without another curse being fired? And was he actually going to live with You Know Who? So many questions remained, but for the moment, he exhaled, basking in the relief at the idea that no more of his friends or classmates would have to perish.

Wait a minute, is Voldemort doing the Macarena?

Maybe there really was more to the man than he'd previously realized. Maybe spending part of his life in the company of a reformed Lord Voldemort wouldn't be so bad. Maybe he and You Know Who could actually be…friends?