Love in Murder

BY : Finnian_Siog
Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male
Dragon prints: 16512
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter...obviously. It belongs to J.K. Rowling and I make no money or profit from this work.

It was October 31, 1981 and the Dark Lord Voldemort had just murdered Lily and James Potter. Voldemort stood, wand still pointing at the space where Lily had been, arms spread protecting the child behind her. She was now lifeless at his feet. He wasn’t looking at her. His eyes assessed the boy who was currently standing in his crib, holding onto the bars, and watching him. The boy born at the end of July, the prophesized one. His wand didn’t move from where it was trained on the infant. The boy looked at him with impossibly huge eyes and made a few cooing sounds. He made an excited shriek as the Dark Lord moved closer. The baby raised its little hands in the air and opened and closed its fists. It wanted to be held. Voldemort could tell that the child had not grasped the situation. Little Harry didn’t know that the Dark Lord had just brutally murdered the boy’s parents, nor that he was next.

Just as Voldemort was a step away from the infant, baby Harry turned his back on him and grabbed a stuffed cat. Harry turned back around and held the toy up to show the Dark Lord. Harry shook the toy in front of him and said, “Ba!” He then proceeded to put the ear of the stuffed toy in his mouth.

Voldemort looked on with curiosity. “I suppose you like cats then” he said to the child, who was now sitting in his crib, gumming the stuffed cat. Voldemort was fascinated with the little creature in front of him and wondered how it could grow up to become such a foil later on. Could he raise it in such a way that that future would no longer be a possibility? Could he eliminate a threat and get more than he bargained for in the process? Voldemort couldn’t see any way his quickly forming plans could go astray. It simply wasn’t theoretically possible.

Voldemort put away his wand and lifted the baby from his crib, the little stuffed toy falling out of the child’s mouth. He disapparated with the small child nestled in the crock of his arm. The Dark Lord had always wanted a pet.

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