Just Another Day

When Lord Voldemort woke up he knew it was going to be a horrible day. December thirty-first meant nothing to him. It was nothing more than the death of one year and the eve of the next. That it was the day a wizard known as Tom Marvolo Riddle had been born meant even less to him.

Yes, Tom Marvolo Riddle was a great wizard, but with a past he found distasteful. Tom Marvolo Riddle was a half-blood, the son of a magical person and a Muggle, something that he'd outlawed the moment he'd taken control of the wizarding world. Tom Marvolo Riddle's mother, the witch in the union, was a weak-minded, love-struck fool, too pathetic to even fight for life for the sake of her newborn son. Tom Marvolo Riddle's father was the most despicable of Muggles, one who held the treachery of a mother against his child and deserved his death many times over for that crime. Tom Marvolo Riddle was an orphan, one who was hated by other children and was blamed for everything that went wrong in the orphanage, even on the rare occasions when he had nothing to do with it. There was no reason at all for him to celebrate the birth of the wizard, Tom Marvolo Riddle, and anyone who tried to force the issue had best have their Last Will and Testament up-to-date. They'd need it.

No, there was no reason at all for him to be overjoyed at the date, particularly since the day had already started off on the wrong foot. Generally, he awoke each morning to Harry Potter, his messy haired lover and former nemesis, beside him. Each morning the sleep-warmed body of The-Boy-Who-Lived was either pressed against his side or his arm across Harry's waist, his chest against Harry's back. Today, Harry's side of the bed was empty and already chilled leaving no possibility for his day to begin in the most pleasant of ways. Today was simply not going to be a good day.

Already in a less than stellar mood, he showered and dressed and made his way downstairs. The corridor was empty, but he heard the excited chattering of those in the dining room. He pulled Bellatrix, Narcissa, and Lucius' voices first, those being the loudest. There were other voices as well. One that he didn't hear that he could pick out of any crowded room, however, was Harry's. Frowning even more, he made his way to the dining room. He wasn't a step inside before every Death Eater in the room stood up.

"Good morning, my Lord. Happy-"

"The first person to say the words 'Happy Birthday' shall meet their Death Day," he said sternly shutting up everyone in an instant. Everyone except Harry, that is, who wasn't even in the room. A pop beside him and more than one person sucked in a hard breath.

"Happy birthday, Mas-" Neither the house elf nor the cake the elf was holding survived the half-finished sentence.

"My Lord-"

"Today is simply another day and there is work that needs to be done. Now sit down," he said through clenched teeth. Knowing that tone, all eight Death Eaters in the room took their seats without another word. He took his place at the head of the table, his day growing worse by the second as his lover wasn't even beside him for breakfast. "Where is Harry?" he asked angrily.

"He left twenty minutes ago, my Lord," Lucius said nervously. "He said he had an early meeting and left taking Severus and Draco as his guards."

He snorted at that. Yes, he could imagine what sort of meeting Harry had first thing in the morning that his lover took his two best friends with him rather than his normal Death Eater guards. If anyone knew his feelings on this particular day of the year it was his lover.

"Very well," he said. "Morning reports."

Each of the Death Eaters gave their report while breakfast was served and eaten. Immediately afterwards, he retreated to his office advising that he was not to be disturbed. He'd barely closed and locked the door behind him when he gritted his teeth at the stack of wrapped gifts on the coffee table in the room. The only thing that kept him from exploding the entire stack rather than simply banishing them to his bedroom was the possibility that one or more of the gifts wouldn't react well to a blasting curse.