Heir to Riddle

Chapter 7

Hayden closed his eyes, taking a deep breath in as his father took his left arm.

" You're sure? " Voldemort asked in Parseltongue, and Hayden nodded jerkily.

" Just do it, " he demanded, swallowing. His father hummed, pressing the tip of his wand to Hayden's forearm.

" Morsmorde, " he murmured, and the thirteen year old clenched his jaw and squeezed his eyes shut.

The skin on his left forearm felt like it was pulsing, on fire, and being sliced into all at the same time.

Voldemort sighed softly, watching his son as the Dark Mark set into his skin. He hated that it caused Hayden so much pain, but the boy had asked— begged —for it.

Finally, he pulled his wand away and placed Hayden onto his lap with his head on his shoulder. He put his wand to the side, instead gently massaging the skin on the child's arm.

Hayden finally, slowly, relaxed into him, opening his brilliant green eyes and staring up at his father.

"Thank you," he breathed, and his father smiled.

"Of course, Hayden," he kissed the boy's head, missing the shy smile on his lips when he did. "You know there's little I wouldn't do for you."

"I know, father," Hayden sighed, relaxing into the man.