Disclaimer: I don't own HP
Harry was standing near the punch bowl in the Great Hall. His date had just excused herself to the restroom. A slight displacement of air and a muffled curse behind him caused him to turn.
Harry was very disgruntled to find Voldemort and a dozen of his Death Eater standing there having apparently portkeyed in through the wards.
"What the hell are you doing here? Don't you know what day it is?" said Harry stepping up to Voldemort.
Voldemort blinked once in surprise and then tried for his most imposing voice, "The day of your death Potter."
"Yes, yes, that's what you always say but I mean really, don't you know what today is?" asked Harry raising one eyebrow and gesturing to the room around them. "Anyone?"
The Death Eater on Voldemort's left said hesitantly, "Er, Wednesday?"
The one on the right looked curiously around the room and spoke, "Oh, sweet Merlin it's Valentines Day!"
There were groans from some of the other Death Eaters now.
"Just what does that have to with anything?" growled Voldemort.
"It has everything to do with it," Harry glanced at his watch and turned to the Death Eater on the right. "I believe that Honeydukes is open for another half an hour, if you hurry you can just make it."
There were whispers in the ranks of Death Eaters and as Voldemort raised his wand to begin cursing Potter, several of them broke away from the group at a run for the doors.
"Where are they going? I'll kill them," Voldemort cried plaintively.
Harry looked at him with pity, "Voldemort, you don't understand, Valentines Day is about the ladies. If they don't get acknowledgement; flowers, chocolate, plushy bears with red hearts then we men don't get anything but a cold lumpy couch and tinned beans for months." Another DE moaned and sprinted for the door.
"Trust me," said Harry, "your followers will do most anything for you but you really shouldn't make them work holidays." He glanced at his watch again and looked back at Voldemort to find the Dark Lord looking paler than normal and rather nauseous, while staring at the dance floor.
"Is that—" asked Voldemort.
Harry glanced over and quickly averted his eyes from the sight of Minerva McGonagall and Dumbledore snogging in the middle of the floor and swaying from side to side.
"Er, yeah, it's better if you don't look,"
"I'm sorry, Master, but I must go," the right hand DE finally broke and strolled pompously for the door clutching his pimp stick tightly. Harry just knew he'd be sprinting once out of sight.
That left Voldemort with only two minions and Harry looked them over sadly.
"Hey Flint, I thought you were dating that Phyllis girl, the one with the—er, I mean what happened?" asked Harry finally identifying the previous Slytherin Quidditch captain.
"Yeah, well I had to work on her birthday last month," said Flint sadly as he removed his mask and slid eyes toward Voldemort.
"I'm sorry to hear that," said Harry.
Voldemort had enough and he raised his wand again, "Time to die, Potter,"
"Look guys I really don't have time for this, my date will be back any minute. Why don't the three of you go on down to the Hogshead and have a drink on me." He fished several galleons from his pocket and handed them to the silver handed man.
"Thanks Harry," said Pettigrew.
"But, but I want to kill you, Potter," mumbled Voldemort.
"Just owl me next week and we'll set up a time, okay, but really you have to go now. You guys will get me into trouble and I'll never get laid if you don't beat it," said Harry hustling the three out the door.
"Harry?" called a voice just as he shut the door to the Great Hall, "What are you doing?" she asked suspiciously.
"Just showing out some party crashers, dear, nothing to worry about. Have I told you how beautiful you are lately?"
"Oh, not for at least ten minutes," she said smiling.
"That's way to long, my lady, would you like to dance?"
------ Hearts and Flowers------
Voldemort was angry and unhappy. Flint had ditched them at the pub and gone off to chase down that girl. Wormtail had used Potter's galleons to buy a harlot and left him to pick up the tab for their drinks.
He sat alone in his dark dank hideout. He decided he would make Potter pay. He reached out to the boy with his mind, his hate, he would hurt the boy and ruin the rest of his evening.
He opened the link from his side and peered into Potter's mind. He'd never realized Potter could be so focused. He pried harder; widening the link until he could understand what Potter was so focused on. Sight, sound, feeling, EMOTION, washed over him like a tidal wave and he scrambled to pull away, to get away from the all encompassing feelings.
Voldemort's body arched in pain, a scream tore from his throat. He fell from the chair and convulsed on the floor as blood leaked from his ears and nose and mouth.
A short time later a black wraith hovered above the now cold body of the Dark Lord.
'Damn,' thought Voldemort, 'How the hell did he do that?'
He floated there considering his options; he could wait for his followers and start trying to regain a body, he could go off alone for a while, he could go try to possess Potter, he could—his thoughts broke off as he saw a bright glow in one corner of the room. He cautiously drifted closer to the light. It looked like a doorway he thought, then he realized that's what it was a doorway to the afterlife, he skittered away. He wanted to be immortal. He hesitated did he really want to be immortal? Potter had beaten him again. It was only a matter of time before he would be destroyed completely. He didn't trust Malfoy and the rest to help him regain his body.
He drifted closer to the light again. There were people in there. It looked like a party. That brought his thoughts back to Potter again, he realized without the overwhelming emotions that he knew what Potter had been doing in the broom closet on the fourth floor. He had run students out of that closet often enough and only once had he ever been in it. Even in his wraith form he shuddered. Olive Hornsby had once dragged him into that closet and attempted to kiss him. It had turned him off sex for the rest of his life. He shuddered again.
Then he saw it, there in the light a figure, an angel waving at him. He looked around there was no one else; the angel had to be waving at him, beckoning him to go into the light. Perhaps immortality wasn't all it was cracked up to be. Perhaps he could be with that angel, at a party, with people who liked him for himself and not because he could kill them if they didn't.
He drifted closer to the light until it was all around him. Just as he passed the point of no return he recognized the angel. The beautiful welcoming smile changed to a predatory smirk in the face of Olive Hornsby and she said, "Hi, Tommy, welcome to Hell."