Disclaimer I do not own Harry Potter and everything recognisable belongs to J K Rowling.

This is not a request. It's a scene I wanted to put into the trilogy but found no place for it. Enjoy!

Quidditch

Lord Voldemort sat in his private chambers, stooped over the paperwork sprawled over his desk. His current plan had inconsistencies, too many for it to be acceptable. He crossed out another block. His black quill scratching against the parchment was the only sound in the otherwise silent room.

In his engrossed state, he only noticed the sound of pounding footsteps and a familiar voice outside his door when it was too late.

"Father!" came the shout before the door smacked open, bringing a great whoosh of air that blew half the scattered parchments off his desk.

Voldemort lunged forward with both hands, managing to pin most of the paperwork to the surface. He hissed in anger, turning his head to look at the culprit, the only being that would live after storming inside his private chambers like this.

Harry stood staring at him. The eight year old's big green eyes glanced to the papers on the floor before looking up to meet the scarlet gaze.

"Oops," he grinned sheepishly, "sorry, father."

"Harry!" Voldemort hissed, "how many times do I have to tell you-?"

"Don't storm in. Knock once and then enter." Harry recited, "sorry, father. I'll remember next time."

Voldemort sighed. A wave of his hand and the parchments on the floor floated up and landed on his desk again. But no spell would put them back in order. With an irritated glower at the eight year old, Voldemort began setting them out on his desk again.

"What is it?" he asked, "why did you run in here like that?"

"Oh, yeah," a grin spread from ear to ear, one that made even the Dark Lord stop and stare, "Lucius is taking Draco to the World Cup. It's tomorrow and I really want to go. Can we go? Please? Please?"

Voldemort stared at him. The child was practically hopping on the spot, bright green eyes gleaming with excitement.

"World Cup?" he questioned.

"Yes, World Cup," Harry repeated, "Quidditch, father, the World Cup for Quidditch."

Voldemort tutted with a sardonic shake of his head.

"That nonsense," he said, "really, Harry? I thought you had better things to do than to waste your time with that rubbish." he said as he rearranged his paperwork.

"It's not rubbish," Harry insisted, "Draco says it's really cool. He's been to other games and I've never been to even one. I want to see the World Cup match, please father, can we go?"

Voldemort looked over at him and sighed at the pout the child was putting on.

"Fine, if you want to waste a perfectly good afternoon."

"Yes!" Harry laughed, jumping up and down, "I can't wait!"

"I'll inform Lucius. He'll arrange to take you with him." Voldemort picked up his quill again and continued marking the parchments, "I'll have to put a glamour on you before you leave." he mused.

"What?" Harry's smile dropped off him and he stared at his father.

"Well you can't expect to go to a Quidditch match with your silver mask in place?" Voldemort said, "and going as you are is too risky."

"No," Harry shook his head, "I wasn't talking about that." he stared at Voldemort, "I meant...you're going to ask Lucius to take me?"

"Isn't that what you asked for?" Voldemort said, "permission to go with Lucius to the match?"

"No," Harry shook his head again, "I want you to take me."

Voldemort stopped and looked around at Harry.

"Are you feeling alright, Harry?" he asked, "you're talking complete nonsense."

"I want to go with you," Harry repeated, "we can both do glamours and-"

Voldemort's chuckle cut Harry off.

"Dear Merlin," Voldemort rubbed at his eyes, "Harry I assure you, had I wanted to waste my time, I would find a thousand and one other things to do, but going to watch a Quidditch match would certainly not be one of them."

Harry stared at him, clearly heartbroken at his father's straight refusal.

"Go on," Voldemort gestured to the door, "I'll speak to Lucius and arrange for you to accompany them to the match tomorrow."

He turned back to his desk and picked up his quill again. Harry waited for a moment before turning around and walking away.

xxx

It was mid-afternoon the next day when Voldemort stepped into the part of Riddle Manor that was now dedicated to Harry. He needed to get back the book he had given to Harry last month, and Voldemort couldn't wait until Harry returned from the ridiculous Quidditch match.

Voldemort had explained to Lucius to keep Draco under control. He didn't want Harry influenced by that brat. He allowed his son this time to go along and see what all the fuss was about regarding that blasted sport, but he wasn't going to tolerate any further distractions. There was so much Harry had yet to learn, he couldn't afford to take time off for silly things like Quidditch.

Voldemort pushed open the door to Harry's room and walked in, only to stop in surprise.

"Harry?"

The eight year old looked around from his seat next to the window.

"Father." he nodded in greeting.

"What are you doing here?" Voldemort asked, "weren't you supposed to be with Lucius, at the World Cup?"

Harry continued staring out of the window, but shook his head.

"I told him I didn't want to go."

"Why?" Voldemort asked, "you were jumping for joy yesterday. What happened today?"

"Nothing happened." Harry replied quietly.

"Harry?" Voldemort stepped closer, "What's wrong?" he asked, his tone harsh and demanding.

"Nothing's wrong."

"Then why are you upset?"

"I'm not."

"I don't have time for this." Voldemort hissed.

"That's just the thing, you don't have time for me at all." Harry said, looking around at him with sharp green eyes.

Voldemort was stunned with the way the child spoke.

"What did you say?"

"You don't have time for me." Harry repeated. "I asked you for one thing; to take me to the match but you couldn't even do that."

"I told you to go with Lucius." Voldemort said.

"I don't want to go with Lucius!" Harry yelled, "I wanted to go with you!"

Voldemort stood still, watching as tears sprung into the boy's eyes. It had been a long time, almost two years since he saw Harry cry.

"Harry-"

"I get it, you don't like Quidditch," Harry interrupted, "you think it's a waste of time. Fine, maybe it is." Harry said, "but it's not the World Cup I wanted to go to, I just wanted to go somewhere with you. Draco's going to the match with his father. I wanted to go with my father." he wiped at his eyes roughly with the back of his hand, "forget it, it doesn't matter."

Voldemort watched him silently for a moment, before stepping forward.

"Get your mask," he said, "and come with me."

Harry looked up at him with surprise. He quickly got up, grabbing the silver mask from his bedside table and hurried after his father. Voldemort led Harry out of the manor, until they reached the edge of the anti-apparation wards. He took hold of Harry's hand and disapparated.

xxx

They arrived at the top of a cliff. Harry stared around him in surprise. They were alone, standing high up, looking down on acres and acres of landscape. The afternoon sun was beating down on them, getting into their eyes.

"You can take the mask off." Voldemort allowed and Harry quickly pulled the suffocating material away from his face.

"Where are we?" Harry asked.

Voldemort smiled and turned to stare out, red eyes narrowed against the glare of the sun.

"This," he breathed, "was my favourite place to come to, when I wanted to be alone." he looked around at Harry, "I was your age, perhaps a little younger when I started coming here." he walked closer to the edge and pointed a finger. "You see that?"

Harry walked over and saw a small square building in the distance, run down with shattered windows and overgrown grass surrounding it.

"Yes."

"That was the orphanage I grew up in."

Harry stared at it with an open mouth.

"That?" he pointed, "that place?"

Voldemort smirked.

"It didn't look quite like this back then," he admitted, "although, it wasn't that much better." he turned to face Harry, "when I was your age, there was so much I wanted, so much I thought I needed, but the truth is, all I ever needed was to know who I was." he looked over at his orphanage, "I didn't know I was a wizard. All I knew was that I was different. It wasn't until I was eleven that I found out what my destiny was; to be the most powerful wizard in this world."

He smiled down at Harry.

"I know there is so much you think you want, so much you think you need, but Harry, you are destined for many great things. You are my son, my right hand," he held onto Harry's shoulders, "you'll have powers that will shock this world but in order to do so, you have to work hard, train night and day."

Harry nodded.

"I know, father, and I do. I work hard."

"I know you do." Voldemort replied, "but you have to take every available moment and opportunity and use it to grow stronger. Because you know, a person with a weakness can never rise above others."

Harry nodded again.

"Yes, father."

"And as for things like Quidditch," Voldemort started, "it's a foolish hobby that only the weak-minded are interested in. It's a distraction, hours and hours spent chasing a ball, when that time can be used to train and learn how to manipulate your core."

Again, Harry nodded.

"Draco may have a father that takes him to waste time," Voldemort continued, "but you have a father that will teach you skills others can only dream off. You will be the most powerful wizard one day and that'll only be because you held my hand and followed down the path I set you on." he ran a hand over Harry's dark, messy locks, "you and I are different from the rest Harry," he said quietly, "don't bother yourself with what others do. I am not like other fathers and you, my son, are like no other boy." he turned to stare once again, at the ruined building he had grown up in, "do as I say, Harry and one day, you too will stand tall and look down on the ruined and shattered remains of the place that tried to break you."

Harry looked over at the orphanage, thinking immediately of Godric's Hollow, the place he was tortured in for years. He swallowed heavily, closing his eyes, pushing away the horrid memories.

"As for spending time with me," Voldemort said, leaning down to be on the same eye level as the eight year old, "how about we come to an agreement. If you manage to resist and throw off the Imperius curse by next month, I'll take you with me on my next mission."

Harry's eyes widened.

"Promise, father?"

Voldemort saw excitement in every inch of Harry's face. He smiled.

"Promise."

Harry nodded eagerly.

"Done!"

"Not done," Voldemort teased, "you have to throw the curse off first."

"I'll do it," Harry replied confidently, "there's nothing I can't do."

Voldemort's red eyes gleamed.

"That's right, my son," he smiled, "nothing at all."

xxx