The Little One with Green Eyes

31: Mixed Feelings and Strange Emotions

TW: Mentioned child abuse 

-November 22, 1991-
Voldemort stared blankly at the book in front of him, his eyes not picking up the words. He continued to struggle to read, and the more the words evaded him, the more he pushed himself to focus. It had been two days since the strange incident in his office, and the only proof that Voldemort had that showed he wasn't crazy, was the wilted flowers his son had given him, preserved by magic.

His eyes strayed towards the flowers, their haunting beauty sending shivers down his spine. Despite being wilted, petals crumbling to dust at the slightest touch, the flowers retained their charm, and morbidly, they seemed to be even more beautiful dying than they were alive.

Voldemort desperately wanted to know who, and what the being that visited him was. He shuddered as he felt the phantom feeling of the being caressing him, nimble fingers tracing his features... The being's touch was strangely... intimate, almost loving. The thought sent another shiver down his spine.

Voldemort suddenly snapped the book in his hands shut, the loud thud echoing against the walls of his silent study. Voldemort stood, going through the motions of picking out another book to replace the useless one in his hands, all the while, his mind was running in circles.

The words the being said to him made no sense. How could he have stolen something from it, when Voldemort didn't even know what it was. And the way the being accused him... it was almost as though Voldemort had stolen something precious from him.

Voldemort didn't know anything about this being's so-called, 'Master,' but the way the being had whispered his soul, a phantom breath brushing against his lips----

Voldemort slammed the book in his hands shut once more, a mortified blush spreading across his cheeks. Voldemort forcibly removed those thoughts from his head, refusing to dignify them any longer. How embarrassing! Voldemort was a powerful, immortal Dark Lord, yet here he sat, brooding in his study like some blushing school girl!

With a growl, Voldemort stood and began to comb through his books, his crimson eyes trailing over each spine as he searched for anything that would be even remotely helpful to him. He needed to find out what that being was and what it wanted from him.

Voldemort refused to bend to the folly of some unknown being, and so, being the powerful Dark Lord that he was, Voldemort was going to discover this being and conquer it.

The opening of his study door alerted Voldemort to his intruder, but the sound of leaves rustling confirmed the intruder to be his precious child, so Voldemort feigned disinterest and continued his search for a good book. Just as Voldemort had found a book that might be helpful to him (An album titled, Omens and Deities of Magic), Little One pounced.

Voldemort let out a dramatic gasp and fell to the floor as Little One crawled onto his chest. "Oh! You've got me!" he said, covering his face in the crook of his elbow. "Whatever shall I do?"

Voldemort's chest vibrated from Little One's silent giggles. He felt small hands pat his face gently, and Voldemort allowed himself a small peak to see his son's smiling face. "Silly Papa." Little One said softly, lightly tapping his cheek.

Voldemort felt a burst of affection rise up inside his chest as he watched his child. He had missed seeing Little One this happy, and there wasn't anything in the world Voldemort would rather do than sit here with his son.

"What's 'dat?" Little One asked softly, pointing at the book Voldemort held in his hands. Suddenly, Voldemort was reminded of the incident that had occurred two days ago.