-June 21 1989-
The Dark Lord’s Castle
“What are you doing for Father’s Day, Little One?” Draco asked softly, looking up from the flowers he was currently attempting to twist into a flower crown. Draco smiled fondly as the Inferius Draco, considered to be his little brother, tilt his head in confusion. “Do you know what Father’s day is?”
Little One frowned, his eyebrows scrunching together in consideration. Draco let out a soft chuckle when the Inferius shook his head quickly, the movement jostling the daisy flower crown he wore.
“It’s a holiday muggles celebrate,” Draco said. “They honor their fathers for one day. Mother heard about it and thought it was charming. I’ve always made something for Father every June, even if he doesn't know it’s a holiday.”
Little One bit his lip and looked down at his hands. His fingers curled around the handful of flowers and held them out to Draco, an obvious question forming in his eyes. “Do you want help with making something?”
Little One grinned wide and nodded, jumping up with excitement, stumbling slightly over his own feet. He clapped his hands together, a happy light glinting in his eyes. Draco chuckled even louder and stood up, brushing his robes off.
“Come on, then,” Draco said, holding his hand out to the toddler. “Let’s go find something. Mother says the Dark Lord is in a meeting right now, so we’ll have time to make something if we hurry!”
The hard part, Draco supposed, was coming up with a present idea. After all, what do you give the Dark Lord? Draco didn’t know any of the Dark Lord’s interests---except for, perhaps, taking over countries---and he didn’t know anything that the Dark Lord particularly enjoyed.
Draco usually made Father a cake of some sort with the help of his House Elves. Sometimes he gifted Father with a trinket he’d seen during his various shopping expeditions with Mother. Draco knew that Father thought it was strange to receive a gift from Draco with no context, but Mother always smiled when he did it, and once, Draco thought he saw his Father smile too.
The Dark Lord, however, that would be tricky. Draco could ask Little One, but the Inferius wouldn’t give him an answer that he could decipher. It appeared that Draco was going to play charades once more.
“What about a card?” Draco asked, walking into the common room where most of the Death Eater children stayed during a visit to the Castle.
Draco helped Little One into a nearby armchair, before Draco pulled out a stack of parchment and ink. Little One grabbed a quill from Draco, a silent giggle escaping his lips as he grazed his cheek with the soft feather. Draco smiled fondly at the child before he took the quill back.
“Would you like to write something?” Draco asked, holding out a parchment to the toddler. “You could write a card for the Dark Lord?”
Little One looked at the parchment for a second before he nodded. Draco watched as Little One took the quill, slammed the tip into the ink pot (Draco bit back a wince at the sight of ink splashing onto the parchment and table) and began to shakily write on the card.
Draco narrowed his eyes as he struggled to read the chicken scratch that was Little One’s handwriting. For a toddler Inferius, Draco supposed his handwriting wasn’t too bad. Little One had written out in big, bold letters, ‘Love You Papa’ and a half-colored in heart.
Draco smiled at the card and took the quill from Little One’s hand. It was clear that Little One wasn’t used to writing with a quill, as splotches of ink dotted the parchment. It was still an adorable card, Draco had to admit, and the thought behind it was what mattered. (That’s what Mother always said when she received an ugly gift, though, so Draco wasn’t sure how true that was.)
“What else do you want to add?” Draco asked, looking at the Inferius.
Little One rubbed his chin as he thought, smearing ink all over his face. Draco bit back a laugh at the sight of Little One covered in ink, deep in thought. Just as Draco was about to find a cloth to wipe Little One’s face with, Little One jumped up.
Draco jerked at the sudden movement and managed to dive forward just in time to catch the toddler who had overshot his jump and was about to careen off the edge of the chair. Little One merely giggled silently in Draco’s arm, patting him on the shoulder a few times. Draco said nothing about the ink handprint that stained his robes.
“Did you come up with something?” Draco asked, looking at the adorable child. Little One nodded with excitement, his black hair flopping into his face from the harsh movement. “Well, what is it?”
Little One squirmed out of Draco’s grasp and took off running out towards the gardens. Draco let out a surprised yelp before he quickly walked after him. It wasn’t until Little One was dangerously close to running out of sight did Draco chase after him, dignity be damned.
Little One stopped abruptly in front of one of the main gardens and pointed at the teeming flora. Draco frowned in confusion and Little One tugged at the hem of Draco’s robe impatiently and pointed again.
“Do you want to give the Dark Lord a flower?” Draco asked. Little One nodded once before he paused and shook his head. “What does that mean?”
Little One made a wide arch with his hands before he pointed to the flowers once more. “A bouquet? Do you want to make the Dark Lord a bouquet?”
When Little One began to jump up and down with excitement, Draco took it as a yes. With a teasing sigh, Draco crouched down and began to pull at the flowers. Little One let out a harsh breath of air, causing Draco to turn back and look at him. “What is it?” Draco asked, watching with confusion as Little One grew visibly upset. He made grabby motions at the plant life and then pointed at himself. Little One made another near-silent huff. “Do you want to pick them yourself?”
Little One nodded once more and Draco stood up, backing a few paces away from the flower. Little One smiled and ran to the flower bed before he began to tear out the flowers. Lilies, Roses, Black-Eyed-Susans, Geraniums, Poppies, Peonies, Daisies, several other flowers that Draco did not know the name of were gathered by Little One. All of the flowers were set down on the ground gently and when Little One had had his pick, he bunched all of them together with a smile on his face.
Draco chuckled at the sight of a messy Little One holding a bouquet of wild-flowers, bits of root and dirt still connected to their skin, and Little One held out the bouquet with a proud smile on his face.
“It needs a ribbon,” Draco said, nodding when Little One looked at him in confusion. “How else are you going to hold the flowers together?”
Little One let out a gasp and nodded quickly, his emerald eyes going wide at the thought of his bouquet falling apart. Draco just chuckled and held out his hand. Little One grabbed his hand with his free one, Draco paying no mind to the dirt that had been wiped onto him.
Draco led him back into the Castle, and Draco had to hold back another chuckle when he looked behind him to see Little One staring intently at his bouquet, an awe-filled look resting on his face. It appeared that a snail had been living on one of the flowers and was now slowly making it’s way to the petals.
When Draco made a move to get rid of the snail, Little One let out another harsh exhale and moved away from him. Draco just smiled and stepped away with the promise to leave the snail where it was. That was going to be a fun surprise the Dark Lord wouldn’t be expecting, Draco thought with a smirk.
Draco opened a desk drawer and found a spool of green ribbon. He held it out like a prize and Little One began to clap his hands together at the sight, the flowers rustling as they were moved around harshly. Draco took the bouquet from Little One’s hand---black ink wrapped around the bottom stems of the flowers as Little One’s hand was completely covered in the ink he’d splashed earlier---and gently tied the stems together, a small bow tied at the ends.
“What do you think? Good?” Draco asked, holding the bouquet out to Little One. Little One nodded with excitement and took the bouquet into his hands. In his left hand, Little One held the flowers, while his right hand reached out to greedily grasp the parchment.
“Dragon?” Draco turned to see his Mother standing at the threshold of the common room, a fond smile decorating her face. “It’s time to return home.”
“Mother! I was just helping Little One with his father’s day gift!” Draco said. Mother’s eyes widened as she looked at Little One.
“Well, I’m sure the Dark Lord will love it!” Mother said. “Hello, Little One.”
Little One smiled at Mother, and because he had no free hand to wave with, he waved the bouquet back and forth in the air. Mother’s smile grew wider.
“Well, come along Dragon,” Mother said, gesturing for Draco to come to her. “I believe it’s time for Little One to give the Dark Lord his gift.”
Draco nodded and bid goodbye to his pseudo little brother. Draco walked away with his mother happily, ignoring Mother’s surprised gasp at the ink handprint on his shoulder, a content smile spreading across his face. Hopefully the Dark Lord will love his gift.
Draco couldn’t wait to get home and give Father his gift.
.
.
.
When Voldemort entered his room after a long day of dealing with idiots, the last thing he was expecting to see was a dirt and ink covered Inferius holding a bouquet of wild flowers and a parchment.
“Hello precious,” Voldemort cooed, looking down at his child with a fond smile. “What have you there?”
Little One looked at the ground bashfully, toeing the ground with his shoe. “F’you.”
“For me?” Voldemort asked in surprise. Little One nodded again, his gaze not leaving the ground. Voldemort smiled and leaned down, gently taking both the bouquet and parchment from his child’s hands.
Voldemort’s chest was filled with a warm feeling at the sight of the parchment. It was covered in ink blotches, and on the corner, half of a handprint, but the words filled Voldemort with joy. The flowers were freshly picked, judging from the dirt falling off them, and the fragrance filled the room.
“My darling…” Voldemort said softly, looking down at Little One with warm eyes. Little One looked up at him, eyes wide with nervousness. Voldemort pressed a soft kiss to Little One’s temple, his thumb coming up to rub at the ink on Little One’s cheek. “I love it. Thank you.”
Little One’s answering smile nearly blinded him.
“Happy Papa’s Day, Papa.” Little One said, his words only slightly louder than a whisper.
Voldemort had heard of Father’s Day before, after all, he grew up in the muggle world. As an orphan, he never had reason to celebrate the holiday, and as he grew up, he steadily forgot about the whole thing. Even after he became a father, he never thought about the silly holiday that was celebrated by muggles every year.
So for him to experience the holiday for the first time in his life, to see his child staring up at him with love and adoration shining in his eyes… Voldemort could not describe the feeling of happiness that coursed through him. This feeling of rightness. Like everything he’d done had led up to this moment.
Voldemort had never felt more at peace then he did in this moment. Voldemort placed the bouquet on his bed and quickly picked up Little One, hoisting him into the air and catching him as he fell down.
And as Little One’s laughter rang through his bedroom, parchment on the floor, and a snail that Voldemort was decidedly ignoring slowly making it’s way off the flowers and into his bed, Voldemort knew that he made the right choice that day, saving Little One. Voldemort could not imagine his life without Little One.
“I love you, Little One,” Voldemort said, hugging his son’s pliant body close to his chest. “I love you.”