Voldemort's Birthday

Disclaimer: Because I keep forgetting in every other chapter: I do not own Harry Potter or any other characters from the series.

Voldemort didn't know whether to wring his lovers neck, lock him up in a room with Nagini for the rest of the day or to just silencio him into oblivion. Of course, if he did any of these things, he can guarantee that not only would he be sleeping in the very comfortable couch downstairs alone, he would be forced to endure what muggles called 'the silent treatment' from his husband. Of course, the punishment also included an itchy feeling within his robes (made even worse due to his sensitive skin) that always ended up in extreme rashes and peeling skin and also any delicacy and pampering that he partook (such as a luxurious bath) would become extremely intolerable for one reason or another. Take last week for example; one could enjoy the wonders of Fagu (a food delicacy that is carefully and elegantly prepared in Japan). One wrong move and the poison from the puffer fish can kill you as quickly as a snake striking its prey. Voldemort had enjoyed this delicacy for many years now (after making sure that the chef will be making food to the best of his abilities) and to suddenly have an inexplicable dread for his meal was questionable indeed and very off putting. Nevertheless, he learned never to insinuate that his husband was getting a little too close to the German's Direktor of Magic for his liking. So, he decided to keep quiet and let his husband smother him in ridiculous muggle blankets that he was sure he never paid for, keep pressing his all too little hands onto his forehead though it was very soothing and to finally let his Husband command his familiar Nagini to 'take care of him' as he went to the kitchen.

You see, today was Voldemort's birthday, something that Voldemort himself vaguely acknowledged but never cared for. The day would pass just as any other day in the past year. There were no heirlooms being passed down to him, there were no cakes being made in his favour and there were certainly no surprise party being prepared for the fearsome Dark Lord, less they all wish to see the all too familiar green spell targeting them. And yet, for some odd explicable reason, Voldemort felt, perhaps in the depths of his cold heart, the pity that he felt for himself. After all, who in the world manages to retain the most annoying, persistent bout of 'the flu' on their birthday. Oh, he swore he could hear Dumbledore himself mocking him from the depths of hell.

Currently, Voldemort was sitting in his-their bedroom on the sofa chair located right next to the hearth that has been turned on at full blast – courtesy of his husband - so that the heat can warm up dear old Tom's body. Voldemort let out a groan, sniffing pathetically and shivering uncontrollably in his seat, glaring at the oak door leading out of the bedroom where he was sure his lover was having the time of his life as he has yet to be incapacitated by this dreadful cold. He snorted at himself and decided that Dark Lords did not waste their time on wallowing in self-pity and quickly summoned a book he recently acquired from the library.

5 minutes later and Voldemort deeply regretted ever having the idea to read. His eyes decided to water when reading the first sentence which incidentally read 'Love is said to be the greatest discovery on the earth'. Oh the shame. His head also chose this time to become somewhat dysfunctional as he could not understand what the synopsis is detailing and the sentences themselves seemed to jumble up together, making it very hard to see, never mind reading it. He quickly disregarded the book, making sure to spell the book so only a parselmouth can touch it. It wouldn't do for his followers to be more competent than him!

He so dearly wished to be able to walk around his-their manor but this disease had left him severely handicapped, he could hardly move his legs without them protesting very clearly that they would rather not walk at all. Still, the Dark Lord persevered in his goal to stand up and gave up when he heard his dear familiar laughing (or should he say hissing) at his attempts. And with that the Dark Lord just slumped back onto the sofa chair and treaded to the darkest place known to man –his thoughts.

When he surveyed the mess that was his mind, he immediately deduced that at least 3 hours were needed in cleaning and organising his memories and thoughts of the past year. His mind defences was that of the Chamber of Secrets as not many people are familiar with it. And for those that were, were quickly slain dead, or in the case of his husband, very closely watched. Speaking of his husband, there was a whole pile of parchment stacked messily that was dedicated to him. As Voldemort prepared a desk and proceeded to go through it, he suddenly had the deepest desire to just watch the memories and experience them in full once more. He quickly dispelled the thoughts from his head, less someone was to witness the small smile that adorned his face at the thought. Though he quickly made his way through the pile, Voldemort could not help but recall fond memories with his husband and the not so fond times. Granted, they had literally became enemy to friends and from friends to lovers in a span of a year and only just recently became married and still Voldemort felt a little concerted in knowing that what was his was now theirs. He saw the many parchments in Harry's pile, some blotted heavily with ink which symbolises the amount of 'feeling' or emotions he had during his memories and some that had copious amount of writing littered around the parchment. It was only now by looking at these parchments that he saw the amount of… happiness he felt for his green eyed lover. Indeed, in just a year he had managed to feel many happy yearnings for his husband rather than hatred and it seemed these happy 'feelings' were leaking to many other parchment piles across the chamber floor. And it was then that Voldemort realized that all his feelings, all these emotions that seem to rise from his chest like a monster tend to happen whenever his Harry was around. His Harry. Oh how quickly Dumbledore lost his precious weapon, and how quickly and disgustingly easy it was to capture his Harry from his relatives. Oh How easy… How so very easy…

When Voldemort opened his eyes again, it was to find - much to his horror – a red cupcake adorned with a single candle floating in front of him. His horror was quickly designating into exasperation when he saw the expectant look on his lovers face.

"You know I abhor this day"

"Yeah, but I thought I'd make it a little better." Harry said with a smile on his face, "Did you know, not one of your death eaters even thought about wishing you a happy birthday. I mentioned it to them that they should and I dunno, it was like they were completely scared shitless…"

Oh how his harry is completely naïve. Voldemort thought fondly.

"I do not wish my followers to celebrate this day." Voldemort responded

"But this was the day you were born." Harry argued, "Surely they want to celebrate when their Lord was first brought into this world? Hang on, it's not cause of the fact that you're getting older that you hate the day right? Cause it shouldn't be a problem, I only put one candle on the cake for you to blow out."

"And why would I blow out this candle." Voldemort sneered, "What a disgustingly muggle thing to do."

"Fine then!" Harry said exasperatedly and took the cupcake that was hovering mid-air in front of Voldemort to take the candle out. He then held the cupcake out to his husband,

"Now eat the cupcake"

"Excuse me!" Voldemort said affronted

"Eat the cupcake." Harry repeated, "I spent the last 30 minutes trying to make a good cake for you to eat for your birthday and an hour before trying to get rid of the house elves. Do you know how hard it is to trap your house elves in an anti-elf chamber without them knowing? So, eat the cupcake!"

"I know you are aware of this fact My Harry, but I am sure you need a very good reminder that I am physically unwell. I cannot eat without it causing an abnormal disturbance in my stomach."

"Oh" Harry said quietly, "i…forget"

"Yes, very easy to forget that Lord Voldemort has become ill."

"Oh, For Merlin's sake! Harry exploded, "Could you please stop referring to yourself in third person!"

"There is no need to. I find it quite pleasing to talk this way."

"Could you just eat the cupcake?"

"I'd rather not"

Voldemort observed the forlorn expression that appeared on his lovers face at his words. He was genuinely sad that this day is going uncelebrated. And for some reason, this sadness is making him… elated? Happy? He scoffed at himself, even all this time he still wanted a being by his side that would take care of him. Oh what weakness was this? Love? Voldemort sneered mentally, but that did not stop him from grabbing the cupcake from his lover and taking a very huge bite from the red icing covered cupcake, completely disregarding the candle that was still lit. Once he devoured the cupcake (it was quite delicious) he decided that the happiness that Harry excluded was worth the very worrying riot that his stomach was starting.

And of course, as soon as Voldemort woke in the middle of the night, retching in an odour-vanishing bowl that the house elves brought for him, he decided to never do anything to put a smile on his lovers face. It seemed it would only hurt him in the end or cause him a large amount of discomfort. His resolve only grew as he could make out pieces of the cupcake that he ate before and of course, when he saw those pieces it made him retch a little more. Oh how he hated his birthday! And the fact that his husband was sleeping merrily away like nothing was wrong only made him much more comfortable in what he was about to do which was to curse his husband to wake up.

Not one of the death eaters thought that it would be okay to ask the Dark Lord on what was sure to be an attack on his face. Naturally, they could make out the Dark Lord's lover snickering into his hands every time he had a look of Voldemort's face and the glower that the Dark Lord bestowed upon his husband gave a very clear explanation to all on who was behind it. Yes, it was a very interesting birthday for Voldemort.

AN: okay this oneshot decided to take a completely different direction than was planned. I originally planned Harry to be annoying Voldemort with the use of plushies whilst Voldemort was ill and there would be a nice cute fluffy scene at the end. I dunno, for some odd reason, my fingers don't want to type fluffy stuff which is REAALLY frustrating. Urgh! I still don't know how I feel about this one, especially the ending. I'm in a really depressive mood right now and it somehow leaked into this. I wonder, did anyone else feel like crying after reading and watching the Death Note series.