In Servitude to the Dark || Tom Riddle

𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙏𝙧𝙖𝙞𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙨 𝙃𝙤𝙧𝙘𝙧𝙪𝙭

Nagini nodded knowingly. §Ah, it is like swallowing fetid meat. Can you not simply regurgitate it?§

Voldemort chuckled hollowly. §If it were only that simple, my Lovely§ he replied. He had managed to interrupt the merging process with his pathetic soul piece as quickly as he could before he became infected with Marvolo's emotions. As it is, they were already too intermingled for his comfort. §But I will have it under control in due time. Forgive me for disturbing your rest.§

Nagini hissed wordlessly, still agitated and decided to leave. Voldemort watched her slither away, knowing she was feeling echoes of his internal conflict with Marvolo down their horcrux link. It was probably best that she go somewhere else until he could smother Marvolo into dormancy or at least properly contain him. He wanted none of Marvolo's affections to stain his own icy soul.

Thoughts of Marvolo and Aster Potter turned what should have been a very enjoyable bath into something not so enjoyable. In fact, it was working him up into a state of agitation. Giving up, he rose from the tub, dripping water off his body as he stepped out...

Drip...

Drip...Drip...

Dripping like the blood from the child...red splatters on white bone...the girl had been so pleased to serve him, and what did he do to reward such devotion...

"Shut up!" Voldemort grabbed his own hair tightly. "My decision is made and her fate is sealed," he snarled loudly, trying to drown out the demanding voices clamoring inside his head. He vanished the dripping water and not bothering with any clothes, he slipped between the cool silk sheets, willing each of his muscle groups to relax.

But the moment he closed his eyes...

Images...this time not of the girl he had locked in the dungeon. No, these were different, and they bubbled up sluggishly, but insistently and unstoppable like a river of lava. These ones, Voldemort was not familiar with. They were random images of himself doing muggle chores, gardening with his much too small hands under the blistering heat of the summer sun, himself begging for food, and hunger pains tearing up his stomach. Echoes of people yelling at him, calling him worthless, a freak, a burden...And then suddenly the vertigo of being picked up and tossed into a tiny cramped space. Voldemort had never felt claustrophobic before, but crouching in complete darkness with unseen things crawling over his skin....he had a horrible suspicion that it was spiders or cockroaches.

Pressing the heel of his palm over his eyes, Voldemort sat up. "It must be Marvolo's memories," he realized but knew that wasn't quite right. They were Marvolo's memories of Aster Potter before the separation in Aster's second year. When he first looked into the girl's mind, he hadn't gone into too much detail. There wasn't enough time to do so, so he only looked for the girl's true loyalties.

Marvolo's soul was being annoyingly persistent, for being such a small part of him. It was hammering at his occlumency shields as if it was Marvolo who had been locked down in the dungeons. Try as he might, Voldemort couldn't just ignore a part of himself. Finally admitting defeat, at least privately, he knew if he didn't do something, his own traitorous soul would never let him rest.

"I'll make you a deal," Voldemort said aloud, despite having no audience but himself. "If the girl survives the night, then I will ensure her passing be as painless as possible." He would not allow the weakest parts of his soul dictate his actions. He absolutely refused.

This only seemed to enrage Marvolo even more. He suddenly churned with unholy fury, sending shock waves of pain throughout Voldemort's new body. Marvolo wanted Aster back with them, and would not relent until the teen was back in their bed! Damn it!