The study was quiet, the flickering fire casting long, wavering shadows across the walls. Severus sat in the high-backed chair, Hadrius nestled against his chest in a magically secure sling. The boy gurgled softly, dark eyes blinking sleepily, tongue curling as words in Parseltongue slipped from his lips.
Severus' voice was low, smooth, and calm. "Yes… that's it, little prince. Speak softly. You are safe."
A hiss cut through the quiet, freezing Severus mid-motion. Black robes shimmered in the shadows as Voldemort stepped forward, silent as a predator. His gaze immediately locked onto Hadrius, narrowed and intense.
"So… he speaks my language," the Dark Lord said, voice low and sharp, layered with obsession. "The child… yours. But whose blood runs through him besides yours? Who dares claim a part of him?"
Severus' calm mask did not falter, though he instinctively tightened his hold on the boy. "The child's heritage is… complicated, my Lord. Circumstances, timing… it is of no consequence. He is protected, and that is what matters."
Voldemort's black eyes glimmered, possessive and sharp. "Of course it matters. You are the male bearer, Severus. And yet you speak as if no other has claim. Do not lie. Who is the other father?"
Severus' lips curved faintly, elegant and precise, as he weighed each word. He glanced at Hadrius, the boy stirring slightly but remaining calm in his arms. "You, my Lord. You are the only father. There is no other. Only you."
The Dark Lord froze, black eyes widening with a mix of fascination, obsession, and possessiveness. His lips parted slightly, hissing almost in disbelief and triumph. "You… kept this from me… and yet he carries my blood. Mine. And you… you held him close, yet he is mine to claim."
Severus inclined his head slightly, composed and serene. "Naturally, my Lord. It has always been in your best interest that he remain protected."
Voldemort's gaze flicked back to the boy, possessive, intense. Every small gesture Severus made—each careful shift, each murmured reassurance—seemed to ignite the Dark Lord's fixation further. "He speaks Parseltongue… he hears me even when I am silent. You have nurtured him well, Severus. But do not misunderstand—you and he… are mine."
Severus' lips curved into a faint, controlled smirk. "As you wish, my Lord. He will remain safe, and his blood, his inheritance… are in your hands, as you command."
Voldemort's black eyes glimmered with obsession, lowering his voice into a hiss that carried both reverence and danger. "Good. I will be watching. Every move, every decision, must reflect that. Fail me, Severus… and you will test my patience with what is mine."
Severus inclined his head gracefully, masking the rush of strategy behind calm composure. "Understood, my Lord. I shall not fail."
Voldemort lingered a heartbeat longer, eyes fixed on Severus and Hadrius, possessive and fascinated, before melting back into the shadows. Severus exhaled softly, adjusting Hadrius against his chest. The Dark Lord now knew the truth—but the child's safety, Severus' careful manipulation, and the fragile balance of control remained intact.
The game had grown infinitely more dangerous, yet Severus was ready. As always, he would play it to perfection.