Hey guys,

Yes, I am alive. I know, I know, I've been absolutely dreadful about updating, however I have to put school first unfortunately.

So, please not pitchforks or fires! :P

Anyways, here's chapter 11, just a warning Voldemort is a little OOC in this chapter, but I wrote it fast.

Enjoy!

Chapter 11

A Little Comfort

Voldemort glanced at the grandfather clock ticking slowly away in his study, noting that it was almost midnight he decided he would just have to wait till tomorrow to confront Harry about his deplorable behavior.

After the annoying brat had unseemingly stormed out of the dining hall and slammed his door multiple times, (which the Dark Lord still wasn't over) he had found himself attempting to cool down and reflect on the nights happenings, while calmly sipping tea in his study.

The more he thought about what had gone down just a few mere hours ago, the more it bothered him. Not so much that the boy had disobeyed him about slamming the door or made up those infuriating nicknames, but he actually realized what was pestering him so much, was that the child had actually told him, or more like yelled, "I hate you."

Sure he knew many, many, people despised him, loathed him, even saw him as the devil itself, but that never bothered him, so why did this stupid urchins words upset him so much?

The more he pondered over the little nuisance and what he would have to do to punish him, the more he was at a loss. What was he supposed to do? Voldemort had never found himself in a position like this before, what did guardians do? Sure, he could fire a few crucios his way, lock him in the dungeons, starve him, or even leave him on the rack for a few hours, but that all seemed a little... extreme and maybe a tad too harsh to do to a four year old, nevertheless a four year old he was currently responsible for.

He wanted the boy to respect him and obey him, but not fear him. By instilling trepidation in the child there would be no way to form him into a strong soldier. No, he need not fear, but then what was there left to do?

At the moment the boy had no toys, no brooms, books, or really belongings of any kind. So, it wasn't like he could just take something away from him... unless, well he did have that one thing he held close to. It was a tiny stuffed animal lion that he had named Leo. Voldemort had given it to him a few days ago as an attempt to prove to the boy that things would be better here, compared to the Potter's, after all he wanted the boys full dedication and devotion, there could be no split alliances or wavering allegiances. But the child had cherished the little stuffed animal since the moment he had gotten it. It appeared to be the first gift anyone had given him and well, he couldn't find it in him to deprive the child of the one comfort he kept dear to him.

Suddenly, there was a faint knock on the door, looking up curiously he beckoned the person in. Fully expecting a house elf who had just come to check on him, he was surprised to see Harry. The boy was rubbing his puffy red eyes in dark blue footy pajamas, covered in miniature quidditch brooms. It had been the only piece of clothing the boy had insisted on needing and eventually Voldemort had given in, even though he found them absolutely appalling and despicable. He just hoped Harry would grow out of them soon, after all who could fear a little boy in footy pajamas...

The boy stood there looking at the ground, clutching Leo the lion tightly in his right fist by one leg. His hair was an absolute mess, tangled and tousled and he appeared to have been crying for quite sometime.

Looking up at the Dark Lord with his sad, green eyes he sniffled and then quietly asked in a whispered tone, "do you ha-hate me?" Bottom lip sticking out sadly and a lone tear cascading down his face, he looked the perfect picture of a miserable small child.

Staring at the little boy, Voldemort contemplated about how to answer that question. He could see that the child was in an emotional state and didn't want to set him off anymore, but how could he just let the boy off so easily and better yet, how did one respond when someone asked you if you hated them, right after they themselves had just told you the same thing?

Sighing, the Dark Lord gazed up at Harry and locked eyes with the small boy before replying, "I don't hate you child, but I am angry, your outburst today was completely uncalled for and unwarranted. Furthermore, in the future, should you ever act like a spoiled little brat again, you will not find yourself liking the consequences, because I assure you, they will be far from pleasant."

What those 'unpleasant consequences' would be was still in question, but hopefully he wouldn't have to decide and Harry wouldn't have to find out.

Gazing up and down at the boy once more, he took in his features, the disheveled hair, his emerald green vibrant eyes, and his over all skinny form. The child just stood there innocently in his feety pajamas, snuggling his small, stuffed friend, while gazing at the floor in disdain. One day he would make sure the little terror amounted to something. Together they would dominate the world, he would rule with the boy by his side. And that's when Voldemort knew, knew he wanted the boy, needed the boy. He was an essential key in his plot. He would be his right hand man, his most trusted and reliable, his heir, his... son.

But not only that, the adoption of a child could bring a great amount of swaying people onto his side. What great publicity, the cruel and heartless Voldemort, taking in a homeless, now orphaned child. Saving him from his abusive household, and giving a little boy a safe home to thrive and flourish in. This could be the key transitioning point for all the people out there who had remained neutral throughout the war. The boy could be his pawn, with him, he could win the war, victory would be his!

However, as he stared at the young boy, looking so distressed, he couldn't help but come to the realization that just maybe the boy would mean more to him then just a pawn in a chess game, and maybe, just maybe, the child would be his queen too.

Coming back to the present, Voldemort was reminded of the time of night, when the boy once again brought his fists up and rubbed his eyes with the ball of his palms, letting a large yawn escape in the process. The Dark Lord rose from his chair and began herding the child out of his office and back towards his room.

Leading him across the hall, he couldn't help but notice when the boy slid his tiny hand into his grasp, following him to his designated chambers. He considered pulling his hand away, after all he didn't want to send any false allusions to the boy that all was forgiven, but couldn't find it in his heart (albeit its small size) to do it. Instead he allowed the child to hold his hand as he guided him through the doorway and towards his bed. Picking the boy up and setting him down on the bed, he accio'd a chair next to it and sat down beside him.

Harry stared down questioningly at the Dark Lord when he noticed him get situated next to his four-poster, but nevertheless was far from complaining. He enjoyed Voldemort's presence. Well really, he enjoyed the presence of anyone, anyone that is who wasn't a backstabbing snake with a tendency to follow him around at all times. It had been hard enough to sneak away from Nagini to go and see Voldemort, as the large python had a particular proclivity with questioning him about his whereabouts.

The Dark Lord looked up at the child still gazing at him from his sitting position on the bed. Noticing one of the boys buttons was in the wrong hole, he reached up and nimbly unbuttoned the fastener and re-clasped it in the right hole, leaving the last stud unfastened.

As he did this, the child looked down at his hands mid-motion and let a lone tear slide down his face, before all but throwing himself at the Dark Lord and into his lap while sobbing apologies and grasping his robes inside of his tiny fists.

Voldemorts first move was to stand and dump the little menace onto the ground, but instead found himself rooted to the spot in shock and disgust. Though he was happy the boy was finally apologizing, he was never one for displays of affection of any kind, especially kinds when said affectionate toddler was squeezing him like a life preserver.

Finding himself once again at a loss for what to do, he decided to let the child's emotions span out and chose to settle back in the chair and use one hand to awkwardly pat the boys back, reminding himself that the child was only four and wouldn't understand it if the Dark Lord just got up and left instead of comforting him when he was in need.

How many nights had he sat in the small circular window on the highest floor, in a dusty corner, hiding from the other kids who made it their daily hobby to torment him, silently crying to himself while wishing beyond hope that one day he would be freed from his personal hell. Be able to actually roam the earth and escape the confines of the four walls of the orphanage to which seemed as though an eternal prison.

He remembered the day so well in 1938 when Dumbledore had visited, he was barely eleven and would never forget the day he learned he was a wizard. He had thought that things would change, that his dreams had come true, yet he was forced to return every Summer, right back to that same dreadful place and await the horrors that lay inside.

He recalled the kids who never let him live it down that he was attending a "special school" or how he must have thought he was so much better then them. He could hear their cruel words and laughter as they "put him in his place." And he let them, incapable of utilizing magic during the Summer and Mrs. Cole, the women in charge, was powerless to put a stop to the endless taunting.

Even in Hogwarts, he never really had anyone there for him, to comfort him when he needed or lend a helping hand, an ear to talk to. With no friends, but one, one that he had in the end used and betrayed, he was always on his own. It was nice to have Hagrid while that friendship lasted but of course, like many another, it didn't remain very long until he found himself once again on his own.

Professor Slughorn was the only one who was really ever kind to him. But then again, Slughorn always had favorites, favorites which he based purely on success rates. He wanted to build and forge connections with the ones he believed would one day become somebody, make themselves into someone. It was almost manipulative.

The point was, was that he never had anyone and he could recall those prolonged memories of countless melancholy nights, alone, forsaken, and forgotten. He was invisible, he didn't exist. That's when he had sworn to himself that one day his name would be recognized everywhere, everyone would know it, respect it. And he had achieved his goal, though many were too afraid to actually use it, they knew it, there was no doubt about it.

He remembered how it felt to have no one and at that moment, he knew he wanted the child before him to have a better childhood then him, a clearer future. He would be there for the boy and in return the boy would be there for him, forever at his side, loyal and dependable, and who knows... maybe it would be nice to finally have someone.

After all nobody wants to be alone forever, not even Dark Lords.

Alright, well that's it for now. Lately most of my chapters have been more humorous then anything so I wanted this chapter to have a little more sincerity and tinge of sweetness. Anyways, remember to review, tell me how you liked it and I can't promise when the next time I'll update will be anymore, as school is so unpredictable, but your reviews usually sway my decision on how fast to write lol

Love you guys!

- Jessie