The Little One with Green Eyes

35: The Shadowy Figure

-November 25, 1991-
"Greyback, I do believe you heard what I said," Voldemort said, teeth clenched at the sight of the giant werewolf holding his son by the back of his shirt with his claws. "I am not inclined to repeat myself."

Greyback grins, his fangs glinting against the peeking moonlight. "Oh! You mean you want me to drop this little kid?" Greyback asked, a shit-eating grin stretched across his face as he held Little One up higher. Voldemort grit his teeth.

"Set. Him. Down." Voldemort said, his voice bordering on a hiss. "Now."

Greyback tilts his head, putting his free hand on his chin and twisting his other arm so that he was holding Little One under his arm, his hand resting on his hips. Voldemort's jaw audibly clicked at the sight. "I don't know, I think I like having the strange kid in my arms," Greyback says, his eyes dancing with the taunt. "Maybe I'll keep him."

In response, Voldemort pointed his wand at the werewolf. "Just because you are the Alpha King, does not mean you do not bow to me." Voldemort snapped. "I am still your Lord and you will respect my words and do as I say."

Greyback maneuvered Little One in his arms once again, this time holding the toddler to his chest as the werewolf dipped into an exaggerated bow. "Oh, of course! Forgive me, My Lord! Allow me to set the cub on his feet before I bend over backwards for you."

Greyback snickered, but Voldemort remained unamused. Voldemort hated that he couldn't do anything about the blatant disrespect that creature dares show him, but he needed to maintain a good partnership with the werewolves. The last thing Voldemort felt like dealing with was a war with the werewolves. Due to Voldemort's reign, the laws on werewolf regulations shifted. They allowed the creatures to form their own government under the rule of Greyback. Because of this, Voldemort was required to hold diplomatic meetings with the werewolf once every decade or so to maintain their alliance and work on updating laws together.

The last time Voldemort had seen Greyback was just after the war had been won and the werewolf king was starting to govern. Voldemort supposed it was time for a meeting with the werewolf, but Voldemort didn't realize that Greyback would break into his castle in the middle of the night, or he would've set out some traps.

Greyback sighed when he realized how irritated Voldemort was getting. "All right, fine," Greyback huffed. "Take the little cretin."

Greyback bent down to set Little One on his feet, who in turn stumbled over them in his haste to get away. Voldemort allowed Little One to cower into the hem of his robes, a hand reaching down to pat his head. Voldemort stubbornly kept his crimson gaze on Greyback, even as he bent down to lift Little One into his arms. With Little One safe in his arms, Voldemort allowed himself to address the werewolf king.

"What are you doing in my castle, Greyback?" Voldemort demanded. It was too late at night, and Voldemort was too high strung from his dream... thing, to deal with any of the werewolf's bullshit.

(Voldemort was so done, he allowed himself to slip into such crass tongue!)

Greyback smirked. "Why, to see you, My Lord! Why else?"

"Greyback. It is nearly one AM. You'd better have a good reason for breaking into my house and holding my son hostage." Voldemort snarled, his patience snapping.

Greyback held his hands up in mock surrender. "There's some things we need to go over." Greyback said simply. "Didn't know you had a pup, though. When did that happen? You should take him to a doctor or somethin', by the way, he smells like death. Think he's sick."

Voldemort grit his teeth. "Go to the meeting hall and wait there," Voldemort ordered. "I will be there shortly."

"As you command, My Lord." Greyback said, a shit-eating grin stretched across his scarred face. Voldemort ignored the sass in favor of imagining the werewolf writhing on the floor in agony.