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"You had a meeting without me?"

Voldemort glanced up as his uncle burst into his office. Morfin wore a perpetual scowl, had, since the day he came home from jail to find that he had taken over his grandfather's leadership. Voldemort leaned over his desk,

"Why would I have you at a meeting? And most importantly, how did you find out about it?"

For every person who'd backed his taking over from his grandfather, there'd been those who vehemently opposed it. Voldemort was now in the unenviable position of going to war for people who didn't even want him fighting for them. Morfin waved away his question and plopped down into the chair opposite him.

"Don't worry about that, Tom. Just as you have your people, so I have mine."

Voldemort threw down the pen in his hand and sat back.

"Don't call me that and that's not going to work. The Phoenix scum want what we have, Uncle. They're going to take it if we don't fight back. Can't we put aside this struggle and unite? He would have wanted that."

At the mention of his father, Morfin's expression darkened.

"Don't tell me what he would have wanted. I know what he would have wanted and it's not this."

He waved a hand at Voldemort sitting at the desk his grandfather had occupied for over forty years.

"Not this."

Voldemort sat back in his seat. He had no intention of going back over the same old argument with Morfin again. The fact remained, when his grandfather had died, Morfin had been behind bars and he was the only one his grandfather trusted not to mess everything up. He asked instead.

"Do you care to know what went on at the meeting?"

Morfin made a beckoning motion with his hinds.

"Tell me then."

"They're after our streets, but we already knew that."

He broke off and stared into space.

"I don't think he knew about the attempt on my life in the elevator."

He'd looked into Sirius Black's eyes, and for a brief moment he had seen confusion when he'd mentioned his narrow escape from death months earlier. Maybe he'd been seeing only what he wanted to, but he doubted it. Morfin leaned forward.

"Who else is gunning for you, Tom? Just how many enemies have you made since I've been gone?"

Voldemort grinned.

"Tons. You know how I do."

Morfin threw his head back with a deep belly laugh.

"I know how you do, true."

He sobered.

"But do you really think the order weren't behind it?"

He shrugged.

"I don't know what to think, really. Doesn't matter anyway, they missed."

Worry creased Morfin's forehead.

"Which just means they're going to come at you bigger and better next time. Watch your back. I'm here if you need me, you know that, yes?"

I'm not worried."

He wasn't, not really. His brother shook his head.

"That adrenaline junkie shit you've got going is going be your downfall one of these days. I keep telling you."

"I know."

Voldemort picked back up the pen and twirled it. Harry Potter's cool, emerald green eyes swam in front of his eyes. Did Harry have a family?

He'd done a search on the object of his obsession, but he didn't learn much other than the fact that Harry practiced criminal law out of a private practice. He had zero social media presence. Anything he wanted to know he'd have to learn from the man himself. Obviously, Harry thought the last time they parted would be the end of things. Not by a long shot.

A loud clap brought him out of his reverie. He blinked at Morfin.

"What?"

Morfin lifted an eyebrow and smirked.

"Day dreaming? Didn't know you were the type.

"Lots of things you don't know."

"So, I see."

He ignored his uncle's searching gaze.

"Step up the patrols on the streets, especially on weekend nights, I want someone watching over the girls at all times."

He'd wanted to put an end to the prostitution side of their business, but it was one of the most profitable outfits.

"You're in charge of making sure our girls are safe."

Morfin nodded then got to his feet.

"They will be safe."

He walked out the room and Voldemort heaved a sigh, scrubbing a hand over his face. He didn't know why he felt Harry Potter was necessary, but he was. His gut said so, and he wasn't ignoring his gut. For now, he'd get what he wanted from Harry, get his pain, his pleasure, and in the process, he'd get to see Harry shed that tightly held mask of control. He wanted to see it, as badly as he wanted Harry to handle him. It would be spectacular, he just knew it, and no one else would see it but him.

When he'd had enough, he'd walk away from him. It was what he did and he saw nothing being different about this time. He'd long given up on more. More than sex, more than the pain. He wasn't too sure that there was indeed more out there, but it didn't matter. More wasn't for him.

Running footsteps pounded up the stairs to his office, making him jerk to his feet. His office door flung open, banging against the opposite wall as Avery raced in, chest heaving, gasping for air.

"What?"

He went to him.

"What?"

Avery waved frantically.

"The stash house is on fire. Everything is on fire."

The stash house was where they housed their supplies. Where they sorted out the weed and liquor for distribution, and counted the day's earnings before sending it off to be laundered.

Voldemort rushed out the building, checking his watch. The stash house would be filled with workers at this time of the day. He got into the SUV Avery had idling at the curb and braced himself. The order had made the first move, hitting him right where they knew it would hurt. He had to give them points for that.

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