Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter and do not have the intent to make any money out of these stories. Harry Potter and everything related belongs to J.K. Rowling, I just write fan fiction.
He doesn't know.
He doesn't know, he really doesn't know. And I'm not about to tell him either. No one knows the powers the Dark Lord beholds, no one wants to know. But when you're around him, you can feel his power, his insanity. Even when you close your eyes, you can feel him on your skin.
The Dark Lord does not know what power he beholds over my soul, over my body. At times I hate him, with all the courage I can muster, at other times I'd like to cower away in a dark corner. Forgotten and unseen.
I tent to stare at him, whether he sees it or not. His little movements, the way he barks orders around. It scares the hell out of me, but some other part seems to enjoy it. Hidden deep within me that other person seems to have an entirely different point of view on Lord Voldemort. It likes to watch the 'man' at it's most brutal moment, but cherishes the moments it watches him sleep.
When his face isn't contorted in something that could resemble hatred or anger, the Dark Lord looks very different. Human almost,…
When he needs me he'll call for me, during the days with a voice that freezes my blood. At nights in a whisper, as though he's afraid someone else might hear he plead for help. 'Peter, help me. Help me, just like I helped you.' His voice soft like a promise, but also dark as the oncoming night. But he knows, just as well as I do, that I'll be there. I won't, can't leave him. I fear and love him at the same time, forgotten and unseen.
The Dark Lord does not know what power he beholds over my soul. He doesn't know, he really doesn't know. And I'm not about to tell him,…
