Death?
-November 27, 1991-
Three days. Three whole days. Three whole days with the irritating being that refused to leave him alone. Three whole days of non stop bickering and vague responses, all of which threatened to drive Voldemort completely insane. Despite his best efforts, the nameless being refused to leave Voldemort’s side, and continued to speak to him, despite knowing that no one else could see him!
The being had at first agreed to research with him, but after three hours of Voldemort reading and unhelpful remarks from the nameless being, Voldemort came to the conclusion that the being was not actually going to help him. If anything, the being was hindering Voldemort's research.
Whenever Voldemort would come across anything that seemed even remotely helpful, the being would interject with sarcastic comments that caused Voldemort to grind his teeth together.
“You mentioned you were of divinity?” Voldemort had asked, four hours into their impromptu research session---one that was occurring at five in the morning, and Voldemort had already been up all night, so he was incredibly irritable.
“Yes.” The response was curt and offered Voldemort no insight into what the being was thinking.
“There are several types of Divinity,” Voldemort prompted. “Are you of a magical descent? Muggle?”
“You’re right. I forgot. I am a muggle god appearing to you, a wizard, with the intention of declaring war against your race. Your gods and my kind shall fight to the death.”
Voldemort scowled. “Your sarcasm is not appreciated.”
“Really? I thought it was fantastic.”
Voldemort sighed. “Are you actually going to help me?” he asked, lifting his head from the book that he was reading to meet the gaze of the nameless being currently leaning against his bookshelf. He was looking at Voldemort with an irritatingly smug grin. At some point during the four hours that they’d been together, he had shifted from the female form to the form of a stout middle-aged man.
“Where’s the fun in that?” he asked, tilting his head to display the mousy brown mustache resting above his thin lips.
“The fun would be getting to know new information so I can go to sleep,” Voldemort said with a frown. “And hopefully, find a way to get rid of you.”
The being pouted. “That’s mean! If you’re so sleepy, I can fix that for you!”
“Oh? Pray tell.”
The being suddenly stood up and began to approach him. Voldemort, fearing yet another display of affection from the being, leaned back, away from the approaching figure. The being held out his hand and pressed his pointer finger against Voldemort’s temple.
Suddenly, all the fatigue that Voldemort had been feeling for the past few hours was gone. Feeling refreshed, yet incredibly confused, Voldemort looked up at the being. “What did you do?” he asked curiously.
“I removed your fatigue. Do you feel better, my Dear?” the being asked him.
“I do…” Voldemort said suspiciously. “Why would you do that?”
“That’s what friends do for each other!” the being responded happily.
That was three days ago, and Voldemort found himself growing quite tired of the being and his confusing take on what ‘friendship’ was. After the being removed his fatigue, they continued to research (read: Voldemort researched, the being was altogether a nuisance) until Little One awoke and barged in the room.
The second Little One entered, the being disappeared. Voldemort let out an audible sigh of relief when the being’s icy presence disappeared. Voldemort spent the day with his son and his son’s adoptive duckling Larry, ignoring the lurking presence of Greyback somewhere on the grounds, and allowed himself to relax.
When Voldemort put his child to sleep the next night, the being was back. Voldemort fought the urge to bash his head into a wall and instead chose to ignore the being’s presence. Voldemort got changed into his pajamas and began his nightly ritual before climbing into bed.
The being, it seemed, was not keen on being ignored.
The second Voldemort’s head hit the pillow, Voldemort felt the space next to him dip, and Voldemort snapped his eyes open to see the figure getting comfortable next to him, slipping the feet of his form under the blankets.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Voldemort demanded, lifting his body up on one elbow.
“I’ve never needed sleep before, you know,” he said, the light from the moon slipping in through the crack of his curtain and casting a shadow against the being’s angular face. “I thought I’d try it out with you.”
“Yes, but why are you doing it in my bed?!” Voldemort hissed. The being raised an eyebrow at him.
“Where else am I supposed to sleep?” he asked, daring to look confused.
“I don’t know! Wherever you come from, I suppose!” Voldemort said with a harsh breath. He then leaned in slightly closer, ignoring the delighted expression that flashed across the being’s face. “Where do you come from?”
“A void of nothingness where time stands still and moves faster than your mind can comprehend. It is a space where nothing exists yet everything resides.” the being said.
Voldemort blinked twice before letting a groan, blaming his lack of composure on his exhaustion. Despite the being removing his fatigue the day before, he was incredibly tired. Voldemort honestly did not have the mental energy to deal with the answer he received.
“Right. Go there.” Voldemort said finally, when he was sure he wouldn’t scream when he opened his mouth. “Let me sleep.”
“It’s lonely there,” the being whined. (Whined! Actually whined like his eternal toddler does whenever Voldemort doesn’t play tag with him.) “I’ll miss you.”
“Don’t you have a sister or something?” Voldemort asked, narrowing his crimson eyes at the being next to him. “Can’t she keep you company?”
“My Dear Sister only wishes to play chess. I never beat Her.” the being complained. “It is much more fun to stay here with you.”
“Chess?”
“Yes, chess.” the being said. “Why is that so surprising?”
“It’s just such a mortal thing,” Voldemort said softly. “It’s surprising that she would lower herself with such a thing.”
“Lower Herself? Mortal thing? That is quite amusing,” the being said, a soft chortle escaping his lips as if to prove his point. “My Dear Sister created the masterful game of chess. It is through Her that mortals learned of it. Chess is Her game.”
Voldemort raised an eyebrow. “Really? And who is your sister?”
The being grinned at him in a way that told Voldemort he wasn’t getting any answers out of him. “You’ll know soon enough, My Dear. Why rush?”
Voldemort sighed, and he could feel the exhaustion creeping back in. It had disappeared for a moment when Voldemort thought he was going to get answers, but when he heard the same vague response he’d been getting for the past two days, his sleepiness had returned full-forced.
“You’re tired.” It wasn’t a question, and Voldemort did not respond to it. The being sat there in contemplative silence for so long that Voldemort had almost assumed he’d left. “It’s dangerous to remove your fatigue twice in a row. You must sleep, my Dear. I will remain vigilant and keep you safe.”
Voldemort, disgruntled at the fact that the being had interrupted his sleep, had just groaned and blindly threw a hand out to silence him. “I am a Dark Lord. I need no protection. Be silent and sleep.”
It was blissfully quiet then, and Voldemort sunk further into sleep. Had he been awake, he would’ve seen the being’s surprised face melt into a fond smile. He would’ve seen the being lean forward and press a gentle kiss to his temple before settling into the blankets next time.
When Voldemort awoke this morning, he awoke to the feeling of a warm weight on his back and the feeling of a heavy arm wrapped around his middle. Voldemort frowned in confusion as he opened his eyes to see the being wrapped around him tightly, their legs entangled beneath the covers, and the being’s peaceful expression.
Voldemort stayed in the surprisingly comfortable position a moment or so longer than he should have before he pulled himself together and woke the being up. The being opened his eyes and smiled at Voldemort before pulling him closer, the opposite reaction that Voldemort had been hoping for.
“Good morning, my Dear,” he said, and Voldemort felt his face flush slightly at their close proximity. “Sleeping was quite relaxing. I understand now why mortals are so obsessed with it.”
Voldemort pushed the being away from him and regained his composure, blaming the redness of his cheeks on the heat of his bedroom. “I have meetings today,” Voldemort said firmly. “You will not bother me during them.”
“I can be quite helpful, if you let me, My Dear.” the being protested, sitting up and leaning back against the headboard, the blankets pooling at his waist. “You wouldn’t even know I was there!”
Voldemort pinched the bridge of his nose, pointedly not thinking about how domestic this felt, and sighed harshly through his mouth. “Yes, fine, whatever. Just don’t bother me.”
“I won’t.” the being said solemnly.
He did.
Voldemort struggled to focus on the information Lucius was relaying to him, as the being was currently floating above his head making funny faces at him. The behavior only further cemented the idea that the being was secretly a big child, as it seemed like something Little One would do.
“---My Lord? What do you think I should do about it?” Lucius asked, bringing Voldemort’s attention back to him and away from the being that was currently sticking his tongue out at the back of Lucius’ head.
“Hmm? About which thing in particular?” Voldemort asked, keeping the aloof expression on his face.
“The matter of the Undersecretary, My Lord,” Lucius said. “Currently the Undersecretary is Madame Umbridge, however, I am being urged to decide whether to keep her or choose a new Undersecretary.”
“Madame Umbridge…?”
“The erm, toad-ish looking woman, My Lord.” Lucius said. An image of an outlandish woman with toad-like features in an absurd amount of pink comes to mind.
“Ah yes,” Voldemort says. He is reminded of the uneasy feeling he feels whenever he is around her and frowns. “Choose a new Undersecretary. One that is easily manipulated.”
“The toad woman has no morality,” the being suddenly said, prompting Voldemort to look up. “I caution you to always be aware of her, My Dear. She does not bode well for you.”
“Very well, My Lord,” Lucius said with a nod, thankfully not commenting on Voldemort’s drifting gaze. “Have you anyone in mind?”
“I believe that is your job, Lucius, is it not?” Voldemort asked with a pointed glare. “Get rid of her and find someone else. I trust this task is doable?”
“Yes, My Lord,” Lucius said, bowing his head. “It shall be done.”
“Good. You are dismissed.” Voldemort said curtly. Lucius bowed once more before standing and exiting his office. Voldemort watched with slight amusement as the being stuck his tongue out at Lucius once more.
“That mortal is rather dull, don’t you think?” the being asked him. Voldemort merely shook his head and stood, choosing not to answer the being’s question. “Where are we going?”
“I have one last meeting for the day,” Voldemort said, walking through the halls of his castle towards his meeting hall. “Greyback has requested an audience with me.”
“The wolf-man.” the being stated. Voldemort nodded slightly, aware of the trailing eyes that followed him as he walked through his halls.
When Voldemort entered his meeting hall, he sat down on his throne and summoned a house-elf and ordered her to fetch Greyback. To his left, the being leaned against his throne casually. When the doors opened to reveal the Werewolf King, Voldemort remained indifferent.
“Greyback. You broke into my home three days ago,” Voldemort said in an even tone. “I hope you had a good reason for it. I told you to leave but I know you’ve been lurking about my property. Now, why are you here?”
“Can’t I just see an old friend?” Greyback asked, an ugly sarcastic grin slipping onto his face.
“First of all, we aren’t friends. Second of all, one does not break into another person’s house and threaten their child for the sake of ‘popping in’.”
“Sorry ‘bout that,” Greyback said with a toothy grin. “Cute little thing, though, ain’t he?”
Voldemort grit his teeth. “Greyback.”
“Very well, we can save the pleasantries for tea, eh?” Greyback said with a wink. Voldemort merely sighed. Greyback grew serious, the playful grin from before morphing into a tight line. “There’s been a spike in the werewolf population.”
“And this is my problem because…?”
“They’re all immigrating from mainland Europe, some from the Americas,” Greyback continued. “There are so many of them, not enough jobs, not enough food, not enough shelter. They’re coming ‘cause the laws where they’re from suck.”
“What exactly have you come to talk about?” Voldemort asked with a raised eyebrow.
“I want to expand,” Greyback said. “At the very least to France. We need the space, and if we can fix the werewolf laws along the way, the better.”
“You hardly need my permission for such a thing.” Voldemort said with a wave of his hand.
“I only need your support,” Greyback said. “An endorsement if you will.”
“Why would you need that? You’re not planning on starting a war, are you?” Voldemort asked curiously. “The Republic is a new county. We can’t risk starting a fight while everyone is settling into the new government.”
“It won’t be a war persay---”
“And what would it be?” Voldemort demands.
“Reaching out and fixing the laws centering dark creatures in other countries, expanding my power and my ability to help dark creatures,” Greyback says. “Dark creatures like your tot.”
Voldemort tensed. “What exactly are you implying here, Greyback?”
“Nothing, nothing, my Lord,” Greyback said, holding his hands up defensively. The defensive gesture did nothing to hide the antagonistic expression on his face, though. “I wonder though, if your Inferius is comfortable here, surrounded by wizards.”
The subtle threat is instantly picked up, and Voldemort stood, his face contorting into a mask of rage. “You dare imply that I can’t take care of him?”
“Last I checked you weren’t like him---”
“Watch your words, mutt! You want my endorsement, you would do well to remember your place!”
“And where exactly is my place, My Lord? I imagine it’s the same as your pet Inferius, no?”
“You---”
Just as Voldemort moved to curse the disrespectful mutt into oblivion, the doors to the meeting hall were pushed open, and in walked said Inferius. Little One---forgoing his usual dress shirt and shorts for a pair of overalls and green T-shirt---skipped into the room, Larry nestled into the center of his hair.
Little One approached the werewolf king, and Voldemort bristled at the smug grin Greyback shot him when Little One gave him a quick hug. How dare---
When Little One turned around to face him, Voldemort was expecting a soft smile and a hug too, so he was confused when instead, he received a surprised gasp.
Voldemort watched with confusion as Little One froze in place, his face paling drastically. “Precious?” Voldemort asks slowly, staring with concern at the frozen expression on his son’s face.
Little One sucks in a startled gasp and Voldemort feels ice flow through his veins when he realizes that the Inferius isn’t looking at him, but the being standing behind him. The being that should be invisible to everyone but him.
“Death?” Little One asks in a hushed tone, and Voldemort’s body turns stiff.
Suddenly, the being behind him let out a hoarse chuckle. “Hello Master.”
