The Little One with Green Eyes

4: A Grieved Birthday Party

And James... James and Lily were innocent bystanders when the Death Eaters raided Diagon Alley. James wasn't even on duty that day, they were just out shopping for books when Lily was caught in the crossfire between the Death Eaters and a handful of rebels that had been taking refuge in one of the shops there.

James had tried to save Lily, and when he realized it was too late, drew his wand at the man who had cast the spell. The Death Eater did not hesitate to strike him down, too. Just like that, Sirius had lost his best friends and his lover over the span of a week.

Little Harry was orphaned, and Sirius was named Godfather. And he never got the chance to do what Lily and James had wanted because right when he was going to retrieve him, he was sent out on a two-year mission undercover in bloody France to find the supposed benefactor of the rebels.

(Sirius did not doubt that the only reason he was chosen was because of his association with the Order of Phoenix during the war. A convenient excuse to send as many possible spies out of the country for as long as possible, while the Dark Lord strengthened his hold on the country.)

And when Sirius was finally allowed back into the country, when he finally sorted out his job, his home, his soon-to-be-husband, and his expenses, it had been nearly three years since he'd last seen his godson.

This time, when Dumbledore tried to convince him to stay away, Sirius told him to stuff it. Sirius went to Harry's Aunt's house, expecting to find his beautiful godson playing outside with a smile on his face.

Instead he found an abandoned house with no sign of people having ever lived there.

Sirius had stared at the remnants of 4 Privet Drive, eyes wide with horror. The house looked like it had been burnt down, it was old and rotted. The other houses on the street were perfect and pristine in comparison and it struck him a little odd that a neighborhood that held aesthetics to such high esteem would leave a rotted, burnt down, husk of a house in the middle of the neighborhood.

He approached it wearily, and second he entered the front yard, he passed through strong wards. Muggle-Repellents, Notice-Me-Nots, and a strong glamour all layered on top of each other covered the perimeter of the property.

At first Sirius had been elated. That meant Harry was still living here! But then the elation turned to fear in the blink of an eye, because the wards were meant to keep muggles from approaching the house. (Or what was left of it.) And not for protection of what was in the house.

The after effects of strong dark magic passed over him like a wave. Sirius stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of a half-destroyed ritual circle. And Sirius knew.

He fell to his knees and screamed. He screamed until his voice gave out and all he could do was curl up and cry. And he did just that. He wept until the sun went down and there were no more tears left to give.

Because Sirius knew, without a doubt, that Harry wasn't here. Because Sirius knew that his sweet, innocent godson, the final connection he had to his deceased friends, was dead.

And Sirius grieved.

He grieved for a very long time.

And as he looked at the fireplace once more, the fire slowly dying now, Remus asleep on his chest, dried tear tracks on his cheeks, Sirius continued to grieve for the godson he loved and lost and never had the chance to raise.

___________

.....................

___________

-August 31 1991-
Voldemort sat contently on the ground, his dark robes splayed out on the grass while his legs were crossed together. He watched with a fond smile on his face as Little One played with Nagini, letting out the softest peals of laughter that made Voldemort's heart swell.

He watched as Little One booped his familiar on the head before running away. Nagini hissed before she gave chase to the toddler. Little One opened his mouth in a silent squeal and smiled wide, darting out of the serpent's reach.

Little One was distracted, though, when a butterfly fluttered past him to land on a flower. Little One stopped to coo at it, and that was when Nagini struck. She quickly coiled around the giggling Inferius and scented his face, causing Little One giggle silently at the ticklish gesture.

Voldemort felt a wave of possessiveness course through him at the sight of two of his things getting along together. Voldemort knew that Nagini considered Little One as a hatchling, and Voldemort had heard the adorable whispers of Little One referring to the snake as his 'snake-momma'. He was grateful that the two were so close because he knew that Nagini would protect Little One.

Voldemort could not lose Little One.

Unbidden, an image of Little One covered in blood, his wide emerald-eyes slowly draining of life popped into his head. He shivered at the unwelcome feeling of fear coursing through him. He was Lord Voldemort and he was above such feelings, yet somehow Little One was always the exception.

The toddler had managed to worm his way into Voldemort's nonexistent heart, and now Voldemort would never let him leave.

Voldemort motioned for the toddler to come to him, and Little One smiled brightly at him and waddled over to where he sat. Voldemort felt some of the fear lessen at the sight of his child standing in front of him. Voldemort let his affection show on his face when Little One presented him with a red Spider Lily.

Voldemort took the flower, holding it tightly with one hand, and with the other, he maneuvered Little One so that he was sitting in his lap. Little One sat contently in his lap, only squirming slightly so that he could reach over to pet Nagini.

Voldemort felt another rare moment of weakness flow through him as he held Little One. He could have lost this... He could have been too late... And Little One would've been gone from this world forever.

Dull green eyes staring up at the ceiling lifelessly. Blood spattered on the floor around him. The bright, happy smile did not decorate his face and Voldemort did not feel the bright wholeness he usually felt when he was with him. Voldemort felt nothing. He was numb. Voldemort was numb and he was dead.

Voldemort shuddered, forcibly removing himself from the damaging thoughts. Voldemort detested the weakness he felt in that moment, but he detested the numbness he felt tenfold. Voldemort refused to feel such a thing again, just as he refused to let the world go on without Little One's bright light.

Yes, Little One was his one and only weakness. But the Great Lord Voldemort was powerful enough to sustain such a weakness. He would not lose Little One, and he would be stronger, more powerful because of it.

He hugged Little One's pliant body closer to his chest and pressed a tender kiss to the crown of his head.

He would never lose him.

Not again