@tomarrymortmicrofics | 999 words
Voldemort lowered his head to inspect the little human the castle had sent to him. He’d honestly forgotten about the deal he’d made years ago. The deal that the castle of Hogwarts had to send him a sacrifice, have his sigil on their banner and all in all stay afraid that he might come down from the mountain if they annoyed him again.
He had thought the sacrifice part had been done and over with when two of their people – a male and a female, mates probably, now that he thought about it – had thrown themselves into his fire the last time he went to the castle. The fact he was looking at a young male of theirs made it apparent that they thought differently about this matter.
Voldemort wondered for a moment what in time’s name he should do with a human, of all things. He was a dragon. The only things he cared about were gold and gems and he had his share of both for the next three decades or so.
A human would make a mess of his horde, would need food and when it eventually died, it would start to smell. He could always eat it, of course, but he knew from experience that they had lots of bones that tended to get stuck between his sharp teeth. No, it was better if the human ran back to where it came from. Why hadn’t it run already?
Voldemort nudged the human, but as stated, he was a dragon and his nudge sent the poor thing on its behind. “Ouch! Bloody beassst!” it shouted. Surprised, Voldemort crouched down, his chin nearly touching the earth. “You ssspeak,” Voldemort spoke aloud for the first time in decades.
“Of courssse I ssspeak, you ssstupid dragon!” the human called out, its mannerisms strangely familiar to Voldemort. It reminded him of himself, if he was honest. A dragon’s manners on a human were a strange sight indeed. It amused and intrigued him, so he would let the insult slide – for now.
He huffed a puff of smoke, a laugh or as much of one as a dragon could make, then he breathed fire in the direction he thought he remembered wood. As expected, his memory was excellent; the wood caught fire. He was a dragon, so he didn’t need any artificial light, but the human’s sight would not be as good as his.
His human gave a shout, but calmed when no flames engulfed it. And then it stared at Voldemort in wondrous amazement. Voldemort puffed out his chest. There was no dragon more mighty; his scales were the shiniest, his tail the longest and his wings the strongest. “You’re beautiful,” his human whispered, but Voldemort’s hearing was as superior as the rest of him, so he heard.
Lowering his head once more, he turned to the side so he could also take a good look at his human. Only once his eye was on the level of his human’s head did Voldemort see! They were tiny compared to his own, yes, but he was a dragon and his human was just that, but its eyes! His human’s eyes shone as bright as the most beautiful emerald Voldemort had ever seen.
Oh, they would be a nice trinket for his hoard! And his human spoke! Perhaps he could make accommodations for it. It did come as a sacrifice and Voldemort was a gracious dragon – on occasion. But no, trinket sounded wrong, even to himself. Then an idea came to him.
“I’ve decided, human,” Voldemort announced, “From now on, you will be mine. You will not take from my hoard, but you can make your own. I will keep you and I will teach you what it meansss to be a dragon.” Voldemort nodded to himself, “Yesss, you will be my hatchling. I will keep you sssafe and feed you and in return you will keep me company. Do you accept?”
Voldemort phrased it as a question and he meant it. The fire in those beautiful eyes would stop burning if he forced his human, he was sure of it. For some reason, his human looked at him with wide, shiny, yet misty eyes and some clear liquid ran down it’s cheeks. “You mean it? You want me? You won’t eat me?” “I have no ussse for wordsss I don’t mean, my hatchling,” Voldemort informed it, not understanding what the issue was. His offer was very generous, if he must say so.
Voldemort did not expect his human to throw itself at his leg, wrapping its arms around it and simply holding on to it. It couldn’t reach around it, of course, not with how mighty Voldemort was. He was just about to ask what the matter was, when his human spoke in a wobbly voice against Voldemort’s leg, “Thank you! I accept your offer!”
Pleased, Voldemort puffed some more smoke and licked over his human. It would need to smell like him, otherwise it might be easy pray for his enemies. Voldemort would teach it and change that, of course, but until then he had to make sure his hatchling was safe. “Hey,” his hatchling laughed, “that ticklesss!” It wiped over its face, but that was okay. Voldemort’s scent would cling to it, he knew.
He swiped his hatchling closer, ignoring the yelp it made, and settled in. “Tell me about yourssself, hatchling,” he requested, wanting to know everything there was about his new hatchling. He’d never had a hatchling before, after all. It leaned against his leg and pointed at him, “Well, firssst of all, my name isss not hatchling!” it exclaimed, “My name isss Harry! What’sss yours?”
Voldemort blinked. Perhaps he would have to visit the castle soon, if they didn’t know his name any longer. How could they be afraid of him if they didn’t know him, after all? But he had time, there was no rush. “My name, hatchling, isss Voldemort. Now tell me about yourssself."
