Weakness. That was the only word that could describe Lord Voldemort at this very moment. It was pathetic, pitiful. He had only a fragment of a body, so frail, so weak. It could not perform magic, it couldn't even stand of its own accord. Never in life had Lord Voldemort felt so pathetic. His mind was fresh, ever growing, strong, yet, his body was not suitable to keep up. He was being nursed back to health by Peter Pettigrew. An abomination as a servant, but a loyal one at that. Perhaps Gryffindors were good for something.
Voldemort whispered instructions to Peter, a potion that he would brew. It would require many things, so hard to get, one being a sacrifice of Pettigrew's own. Peter didn't seem too phased by it. Fearful, yes, but, much like a rodent, the man was always twitchy. Weakness overcame Voldemort again, talking was such a difficult task... Wormtail knew, though, that it would be time to feed his master. These were moments that Voldemort hated the most. Whether it be because he had to be fed like a child, or whether it be because the food of choice was so dry, so bland, but was the only thing his stomach could handle. Wormtail broke the saltine crackers up, a quivering hand pushing little pieces into Voldemort's waiting mouth.
Voldemort vowed, when his body returned, he would either kill Wormtail, or alter his memory, so none of this could ever be told to anyone again.
A/N: This was a contest submission on my Role Play site, Accio Nox. The prompt was to write out a one-shot of Voldemort eating crackers. Join in the fun! The link is in my profile, or you can just google "Accio Nox", it will be the first link you see. We have contests like this running all the time, and winning them can earn you House Points!