"You have betrayed me," the hiss full of malice leaks through the sayers lips, filling the air with even more fear than already was.

"No, please! No, no, no! I didn't mean to- please…"

The pleas are useless. For the person who was betrayed will not hear them, will not acknowledge them. It gives him slight amusement that a human would beg after betraying him, after he knew who he was. He, who has never forgiven mistakes – foolish or not.

"Shut your lips. I don't want to hear this. Crucio!"

Peals of pain rip through the receiver's lips, as if it was attacking every limb of his body. The receiver's body twitches radically by the spell casted, although slows once the spell begins to wear off. The man is panting, on his hand and knees as he tries to regain his breath.

"No, master, please. I didn't mean to. Don't do this, you know I have always been faithful!" He pleaded desperately, looking up at his master's face with desperation filling his eyes.

His master laughs, but not a laugh of joy. His laugh is filled with ice; out of disbelief and amusement that the man will think he will forgive him.

"Who do you think I am? Second chances don't exist. You will pay with your life because of this." He drawls.

The man is crying now, tears falling down his sunken in cheeks and collecting at his chin, before crashing soundlessly onto the floor below. "Please, Lord, I have a family."

Family.

Family was never important to this Lord, since you really couldn't call him a man. He had killed and sent others to kill thousands of families; he has torn them apart and made them go separate ways. He has made the intelligent crazy, the rich poor. He has done everything to ruin family, just like his own family was ruined. The word is meaningless; it's as meaningless as the tears that shed off this man's face and the pain that doesn't register with him.

"I believe that's your problem." He says in an eerily soft voice, straightening up before pointing his wand down towards the man. "Adava Kedrava."

-

One might say that Lord Voldemort never had a heart, but he did, before. He had a heart when it was whole. He had a heart when his name was Tom Marvolo Riddle. That, however, was so long ago that he barely remembered. He barely remembered the times he was human from the times he was immortal.

He didn't need a heart. Hearts got in the way of things. It made you think foolish things, make foolish mistakes. Hearts weren't meant to kill and be evil. They were meant to find love and happiness, even though that thing didn't exist. It was easier to get rid of the hazard rather than keep it and deal with it. It was easier to let the ice freeze around his heart, until the day when he actually did tear it apart for use.

It was safer to split his soul, his heart, his remaining guide for goodness – rather than risk having the ice barrier around his heart broken through one day.

When you split something so pure, so innocent and so good – its bound to come back and cause trouble in the end. You just don't mess with something so beautifully delicate such as your soul, but apparently Mr. Riddle didn't have a mother to tell him what was right and what was wrong.

That was his true problem right there. His problem wasn't being alive, his problem wasn't that he wasn't accepted, his problem was family. That had always been the problem since the beginning. Family was supposed to be strongly tied, there to catch you when you fall and help you back up to face the world. When Tom fell, he was alone. When Tom fell, others laughed. When Tom doubted himself, people didn't tell him he was wrong. His family was distant, his family wasn't there, and he didn't know them.

Who knew that could make a villain?