Disclaimer: Don't own Harry Potter.

Chapter 1:

Many years had passed since Voldemort's demise. Harry Potter was now a potions master (HA!) and lived in the muggle world. His main visitors were Hermione and Luna, who often tried to convince him to return to the Wizarding World. Well, Hermione did anyway. He wasn't sure what Luna came over for.

Speaking of Luna, she came over with some strange books every single time. Most dealt with necromancy, time travel and moving on. Harry long suspected her to be too observant for her own good.

After all, not many people knew of his crush on Voldemort.

And by not many, he meant himself and Dumbledore.

It probably started in second year, when he had first met Tom Riddle. It grew bigger in sixth year, when Dumbledore shared his backstory. Of course, he tried to reason with himself, and ultimately killed the man who had no idea he held Harry's affections. Not that he would care of course, with him being a psychopath and all, but he would try to manipulate Harry or something...

Right. Off track. After the battle, Harry tried to move on, started dating. All the rubbish he didn't care for. After five years of on-off dating, he finally called it quits and locked himself in a nice house that resembled a library more than a home.

He thought it was very telling when there were books in the bathroom.

He spent his days researching and brewing. Harry could finally see why Snape had greasy hair and looked like he hadn't slept in a week. Potion brewing was intense. So intense, Harry finally broke and joined a guild so he could get some profit out of it.

Other than that...

"Oh, fuck, I am lonely."

-O-

"You win, Luna."

She smiled dazedly at him, her wand safely tucked in her ear. "Hmm?"

"I'm lonely and bored."

"And?"

"I..." He choked. "I have a crush on a psychopath."

"Go on."

"Who will never love me back because he's a psychopath."

"And?"

"His name is fucking Voldemort!"

The house faced a minor earthquake that toppled many books into more disorganized piles.

Luna smiled widely, bright as the sun. "There, there. That wasn't so hard to admit, was it?"

Harry swore under his breath and skulked off.

-O-

"He's also dead," Harry announced an hour later.

"Good to see you too, Harry," Hermione said drily, barely looking up from her book.

He ignored her in favor of Luna. "Is this part of the moving on process?"

Luna blinked at him, her eyes wide, like she was innocent. "What? No. You're going to time travel to win him over."

Hermione's head shot up. "What are you guys talking about?"

"Oh, Harry's got a crush on Voldemort," Luna casually said while Harry rolled his eyes to the sky. "And we're going to send him back so he'll be happy."

"Voldemort," Hermione said flatly, closing her book and setting it aside. "Voldemort. The Dark Lord Harry killed twice, who ruined his childhood, and made our lives at Hogwarts interesting? That Voldemort?"

"Well, she's not talking about the goblin king of charity," Harry said, just as flat.

"The man who's been repeatedly stated to be unable to feel love?"

"Yes, Hermione. That Voldemort," Luna said calmly.

Hermione gave Harry the Look. The one that said she was analyzing everything and tearing it to pieces, bit by bit. "Harry..."

"I know Hermione. It's probably because I've been emotionally abused by the relatives, and that there are no therapists in wizarding Britain."

"To be fair, he did try to move on... twenty years ago. Remember those horrible five years?"

"Yes, Luna, I remember." Her Look didn't cease. If anything, it grew more intense. "Harry, why Voldemort?"

He shrugged. "He was hot back in the day?"

"Snake face or Tom Riddle?"

"Both."

"You have problems."

"Yes. Yes I do."

"Alright, lets get started."

Great, Hermione was protest- wait. "What?"

The Look decreased slightly. "If it takes you dating Lord Voldemort for you to let go of your crush, then who are we to judge?" She glared at Luna, who was pointedly staring in another direction. "Besides, you killed the man twice now and you're closer in age now. If you die on this adventure, I'll be horribly embarrassed."

"Hermione," Harry said, clutching the labels of his shirt.

She rolled her eyes. "Don't push it, Potter."

-O-

"Here's my suicide letter if anything goes wrong," Harry said, handing Luna a note. It said, 'Fuck I'm tired.'

It took them twenty years of researching and experimenting with the ritual before they decided to use it. While Harry was fond of his blind luck, he wasn't going to rely on it this time. After all, Hermione had done a majority of the work for them. There was no need for luck... maybe.

Luna and Hermione had opt out of going with him. Hermione said she wasn't about to go through puberty again and Luna... well, she said a certain rabbit wouldn't let her go. Harry and Hermione were uncertain as to take that.

"Have fun, Harry," Luna said before bouncing (well as bouncy a sixty sum odd woman could be) out of the room.

Harry took a deep breath and drew his dagger. For the ritual to work, he would need to bleed.

And bleed.

And bleed.

"FOR FUCK'S SAKE, HOW MUCH CAN AN OLD MAN LIKE ME BLEED?!"

-O-

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