The Little One with Green Eyes

38: Realizations

-November 28, 1991-
Voldemort didn't know what was happening, and it was throwing him off because Voldemort always knows what's happening. One second he was preparing to make a new fur rug, and the next his precious son is naming the nameless being that had been haunting him for the past few weeks.

Greyback stares at him, his head tilted ever so slightly, his amber eyes displaying the confusion he no doubt feels as he tries to figure out what exactly just happened. Voldemort wastes no time in dismissing the mutt, no longer in the mood to deal with the werewolf's ulterior motives and schemes.

The second the door closes---Greyback throwing him a knowing glance when he demands he leaves as if to say, 'You're going crazy now?'---Voldemort whirls around to stare at the nameless being that had been driving him mad these past weeks.

"What." Voldemort says curtly, no longer asking questions. Voldemort watches as he winces, the being shifting ever so slightly, his aristocratic features twisting into an almost apologetic glance.

"Darling---"

"Precious, can you see him?" Voldemort asked, turning to face his son, ignoring the being's attempts at platitudes.

Little One's eyebrows furrowed together, obviously picking up on the tension in the room that hadn't been there seconds earlier. A nervous hand came up to tug Larry out of his resting place and gently moved him to the giant pocket on the front of his overalls. Little One began to pet the duckling softly as he looked between Voldemort and the being.

"See him, Papa?" Little One said finally, his emerald eyes shining with hesitance.

"Yes dear heart," Voldemort said gently, not wanting to frighten his son, but firmly enough to demand more answers. "Can you see this... man?"

"Not a man."

"Be silent." Voldemort hissed, his eyes not leaving Little One's figure. "Who do you see?"

"It... he Death, Papa," Little One said, frowning when Voldemort sucked in a sharp breath. "Papa sad?"

"No darling, Papa's not sad," Voldemort said softly. Having a crisis, possibly. "Darling, be a love and go find Nagini, will you? Stay with her for a while. Papa..." Voldemort risked a glance behind him at the being. "Papa needs to talk to... Death."

Little One sent one last confused glance between the two of them before he nodded and turned around, off to find Nagini. As soon as Voldemort heard the heavy doors click shut, Voldemort spun around to face the being. The being was no longer leaning against his throne, choosing instead to stand in front of him. Voldemort met the being's glowing eyes head on.

"Death?" he said, after a long moment of staring. The being shifted and Voldemort had to bite back a smirk at the obvious discomfort.

"Yes." he said, a hesitant smile spreading across his face. "I am that which can never age nor die, but shall exist so long as things grow and change. I am Death."

Voldemort nodded, ignoring the sudden chill that swept through the room. Death. The being that had been following him around, pestering him for piggy-back rides, snarkily responding to all of his meetings, the being that had slept beside him...

Voldemort sucked in another sharp breath. "Why are you here?" he demanded, refusing to cower, despite the fear that began to creep inside him.

The being---Death looked impossibly fond. "You are my friend."

"You are Death," Voldemort said stiffly. "I have conquered you. Aren't you here to... take me?"

The look that Death leveled him with sent shivers rushing down his spine. Death's eyes seemed to glow, a strangely heated look freezing him in place. Voldemort could feel the tension spike, and he didn't know why. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Death laughed. "None shall conquer me, my Dear, not even my dearest Master. All shall befall my hand."