The small cottage felt colder than usual, its thin walls shivering under the night wind. Magical wards shimmered faintly, but Severus knew they could do little against someone like Voldemort. The furniture was modest—scuffed chairs, a narrow cot barely suitable for an adult, and a makeshift corner for Hadrius, swaddled in blankets that were warm but unremarkable. The fire pit in the hearth sputtered weakly, barely enough to chase away the evening chill.
Severus adjusted Hadrius in his arms, murmuring softly to calm the small gurgling sounds. "Yes… sleep, little prince. All is well."
A hiss cut through the quiet. Black robes shimmered as Voldemort stepped into the room, eyes dark and piercing, sweeping over the cottage with an expression that twisted between incredulity and fury.
"You live… like this?" His voice was low, sharp, edged with disbelief and disdain. "In this… hovel?"
Severus straightened, holding Hadrius closer. "I assure you, my Lord, it is… adequate. Every precaution has been taken. The child's safety—"
"Safety?" Voldemort snapped, cutting him off. His eyes swept over the scuffed floors, the thin blankets, the exposed walls, and the pitiful fire. "You call this safe? You and the boy will come with me. Now. This… arrangement is unacceptable."
Severus arched a single, elegant brow, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "Of course, my Lord. And the destination, I presume, is… more suitable?"
Voldemort's black eyes glinted, the possessiveness in them sharp and undeniable. "Slytherin Manor. There, he will be raised properly. In the old ways. Pure-blood traditions, discipline, and knowledge. He will know his heritage, his potential… and his place in the world."
Severus' smirk widened subtly, hidden beneath calm composure. "Raising him in the old ways… yes, I imagine that will be… quite enlightening."
Voldemort's gaze sharpened, but he said nothing of the slight undertone of amusement. "Pack nothing unnecessary. Every detail of your life, the boy's life… under my supervision. He will not leave without my permission."
"Naturally, my Lord," Severus replied smoothly, voice serene. "Hadrius' comfort and safety shall remain my highest priority."
A shimmer of air, a twist of magic, and the two were gone from the cramped, cold cottage. When the world steadied, they were in the vast, imposing halls of Slytherin Manor. Stone walls gleamed under the flickering torchlight, ceilings soared high above, and protective enchantments thrummed underfoot. Velvet drapes swallowed the light, and the echoes of their footsteps bounced in the cavernous space.
Hadrius stirred in his sling, eyes wide at the sudden grandeur, but Severus murmured gently, rocking him. "Do not fret, little prince. We are merely… upgrading our accommodations."
Voldemort hovered nearby, black robes flowing, eyes locked on the child with possessive intensity. "Here, he will be molded in the old ways. Pure-blood traditions, discipline, strength. He will know what it means to be… worthy of his heritage. You will assist, Severus, but never forget—he is mine. Every thought, every word, every action… mine."
Severus inclined his head gracefully, hiding the amusement sparking behind his calm composure. "Of course, my Lord. I could not imagine otherwise."
Alone in the grand halls, Severus adjusted Hadrius against his chest, rocking him with quiet elegance. The move, the Dark Lord's obsessive control, and the meticulous grandeur of Slytherin Manor—all of it offered Severus subtle amusement. In these echoing halls, he began plotting, weaving the threads of a delicate game: balancing obedience, cunning, and protection of his child, all while letting Voldemort's possessive attention run freely.
Here, in the heart of the old ways, Severus could already sense the advantage forming in the shadows of the Dark Lord's obsession.
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