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Tommy, Son of a Dark Lord	By : SomethingElse Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male Views: 30422 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters or places in either the movies or books, and I make no money off of these stories.

Chapter List
- 9
- 10
- 11
AN: Ok, so here is another chapter, though sometimes I feel like it’s not what it could be. If I were still writing it, I would probably do a rewrite, or just scrap the whole thing.

Hollibell: I hope this helps you on the issue of Draco/Tommy’s size. I wanted to just tell you, but it was coming up, so I waited. And I think that it’s sort of an irony of this story, that there is currently no Draco Malfoy in it. For Oliver isn’t really Draco, but Draco is now Tommy. So, Draco doesn’t exist, right?

Chapter Ten: Impending Doom

       Another day passed and Oliver worried about the upcoming trip to Hogwarts. Between them, he and Greg had gone over everything they could think of that would help him pass for the Malfoy heir and it would still be okay to fall back on the excuse that the Dark Lord had provided, if he should slip up.

       But none of this cured his fluttering stomach or sweaty palms. And worse of all, he had to return to the Riddle Manor first, for another batch of potion and the attention of the crazed dark wizard himself.

       No one at school had seen or heard from Draco for two months, and even knowing that he had been involved in some nefarious activities wouldn't cover for the way Oliver got jumpy after a visit with He-who-must-not-be-named.

       Pacing the alcove that constituted Draco's closet, Oliver worked at packing the trunk for school in an effort to forget about this fact for the rest of the afternoon. It actually worked, until the voice of Narcissa, at the door of his rooms, drew him right back to the fact.

       "Come on, Draco Darling. Your father is waiting. Time to go." She said as she checked the various parts of the room where a teen boy could hide. Oliver grabbed a light jacket and stepped out of the hidden entrance to the closet space.

       "Oh. There you are, Dear. Come along. Lucius is waiting." Draco's mother said as she slid her hand under his elbow and guided him out.

       Lucius was waiting by the entry, glaring at some of the damage that he had yet to repair, as if it had refused his earnest desire to have his home back in the condition he'd kept it for years.

      When he caught sight of them, he slung his cape over his shoulder and turned a false grin their way. "Ah, there you are my Darlings. Come now, musn't keep our Master waiting." This last came out with a faint sneer that Oliver recognized as a new emotion to the Malfoy lord, for his allegiance to a man who could hold his son hostage like he was.

       'You hope he is.' Oliver thought to himself as he linked hands with Narcissa and the family apparated to the grounds of Riddle house.

       Here they were met by Dolohov and Rabastan Lestrange. "You're late Malfoy. The Dark Lord said for us to bring the boy, immediately. You two are to report to Snape, first." and the two flanked Oliver and disappeared with him.

       Narcissa gasped as the boy's frightened face was the last thing she saw of him. She turned and collapsed into the arms of her husband in a fit of tears and coughs.

       "He'll be fine, Cissy. Trust him, my love. Come along. Let's go see Severus." He said holding her close and walking toward the house.

       Oliver fought to keep from shaking as he was dragged to the throne room, again. There, Voldemort sat on the dais, flanked by Belletrix and Fenrir Greyback.

       "So good to see you again, Young Malfoy. Come with me." Voldemort said, rising and exiting through a rear door.

       Inside the room was a small apartment, complete with sitting area and a comfortable bed area. They were the only occupants in view.

       The Dark Lord motioned Oliver closer to where he stood and the boy moved forward. He had learned not to delay and he soon found himself held close to the mad man as the first signs of the potion loosing potency struck his body.

       The Dark Lord pushed him onto a chair and watched for a few minutes, then he scowled.

       "Remove those clothes. They are only for the son of Lucius. Until you are returned to that look , you are nothing, Gryffindor."

       Oliver stripped off and folded the things, carefully. When he was naked again, Voldemort snatched him up by his hair and dragged him toward the bed. "Now, boy. Let's see if you still remember how to please me." he said, pushing Oliver to his knees on a small rug near the foot board. He yanked the boy's head and Oliver came up to face the Dark Lords semi-erect length.

       Oliver closed his eyes and took a deep breath before opening his mouth for the man's pleasure. Voldemort moved slowly, in and out of his slaves lips, watching as Oliver's cheeks puffed out when his cock moved into the boy's throat. The warmth was comforting and arousing to the man, but Voldemort wanted more. He wanted to dominate the boy, more than just achieve release.

       "Up. Now!" he snarled, yanking on the hair in his fingers. "Over the end of the bed, boy."

       After he had Oliver positioned, knees on the floor face down on top of the covers, he roughly spread the boy's ass and removed the security plug, tossing it aside. He angled himself toward the pucker of muscles and watched as the mushroom tip of his organ pressed in. There was restriction, a little resistance, then it passed through, bringing a strangled gasp from his little slut boy.

       "That's right, boy. No matter what you think the rest of the time, you still belong to me. My pleasure is your ultimate goal." As he spoke, the Dark Lord sped up his thrusts and each bounced Oliver on the bed. "And when you have pleasured me, you will get to play with my followers. They were all very excited to hear that you were returning. Oh, yes! You'll spread yourself for each one until you haven't the energy to move, much less resist. Ungh! Won't you, boy?" Voldemort grabbed the hair on his head, forcing his face to the side. "Mmph. Yes! Tell me, Gryffindor! Tell me what you are going to do."

       Oliver screwed up his face as the roots on his head screamed to him and the rough thrusts into his anus burned like a hot poker. "I'll . . I'll let them. . all of the . . let them fuck me. Let them do whatever they want to me." he cried, his eyes squeezed shut to hold back the tears.

       "Yes, you will. Oh, yes! Yes, my little boy-whore!" The Dark Lord howled as he battered the boy and then climaxed into his abused boy-pussy. Then, he collapsed onto his slave and lay, panting across Oliver's back.

       Voldemort climbed off, slapping his slut's ass cheeks hard before adjusting his clothes and walking away. "Now, get up and crawl over here. You still have one other thing to relieve me of." he said.

       Oliver did as he was told, crawling across the floor until he knelt in front of the crazed dark wizard. Voldemort held his lax penis in front of the boy's lips, and Oliver took the hint and opened them for him. Warm liquid gushed into his mouth, burning its way as he swallowed it quickly. When the flow slowed, then ceased, Voldemort pulled away and smiled at him.

       "Now, you are ready for the enjoyment of my Death Eaters. Come along. Twenty four hours and then I will send you back to the easy life of a Malfoy." and he followed this up with a harsh bark of laughter.

       True to his word, Oliver was given over to the ranks of Death Eaters in the manor, and each took him, roughly and brutally. Their orders were only this, "Do not mark his face or anything that will show through his school clothing." and they followed these.

       Twenty two hours later, bruised from the neck down and barely able to crawl, Oliver was led to Voldemort again. One of the minion, Carrow, decided to strap a leash to a collar around his neck and he was dragged by this like a whipped dog until he dropped at Voldemort's feet.

       The Dark Lord smiled.

       "Open your mouth to me, boy." he said, yanking on Oliver's still sore scalp and pulling his face into the man's lap. Oliver complied, too tired and sore to put up any fight. He hadn't been fed or given water, rest or peace in the entire day he had been kept, so the warm rush of urine was nearly a refreshing drink, it not for the way it burned his cracked, dry lips. "Now, sit up and drink your potion." Voldemort added, pushing Oliver away with his foot. "When it has taken effect, you will shower and dress. Return to the throne room and rejoin your 'Parents' there."

       Before rising to leave, the Dark Lord unclasped the collar and he was swinging it as he exited.

       The vial of potion sat on the table next to the now vacant chair and as he stared at it, Oliver Wood began to cry.

       Tears of fear, tears of hopelessness and, strangely enough, tears of relief.

       It was no picnic pretending to be Draco Malfoy, and his life was in just as much danger in the geis, but as the son of Lucius and Narcissa, his life would be better than the life of Oliver Wood.

       No one could argue that point.

          Tommy let himself be carried out of the room where he had been born and lived for all of his remembered life. He clung to his daddy, though his feet dangled close to the floor and he was nearly as big as the man, but he was no burden when Daddy used the accommodation spell. Tommy had listened to the words many times and knew that when he heard them, he was going to be held or carried. It was this that brought the tingle of anticipation to his belly, and made him reach up when Daddy came closer.

          Now, they stood in a room filled with people, most of whom were wearing dark robes with funny masks. Tommy giggled at them and Daddy reached up to ruffle his newly grown dark curls.

          “Yes, aren’t my minions funny, Tommy?” Voldemort chuckled as he put Tommy onto a throne like chair at the room’s front. Tommy crossed his legs and shoved a thumb into his mouth. Daddy smiled and winked and Tommy yanked it out. He wasn’t to show these funny men that he was a baby. Daddy had already warned him about that.

          The robed men gathered closer, bowing to Daddy, and to Tommy where he sat, and their heads were down when they spoke. The first to speak was a gruff voice in a mask that looked like a screaming scull. “My Lord, do you go to Hogwarts?”

          Daddy spoke, but Tommy was confused. “I will go to Hogsmeade, and will meet you at the castle. You will go Greyback and secure the wards for me. We have three weeks, before the castle falls and with what I have secured from its protectors, we cannot fail.”

          Tommy shifted, watching carefully, as Daddy held up a funny-shaped wand, not the one Tommy had seen him use before, and the robed man stepped away. Another came forward and Daddy waved him on. “You wished for me, My Lord?” this squeaking man said as he came closer.

          “Yes. Go to the manor and watch my followers there. I fear that while their son is in the castle, they may change allegiances.” Voldemort whispered to the small man, who nodded and snuck out. “We have much to prepare, for by the end of the month, Harry Potter will fall and I will stand as Lord over all of Wizard kind. Prepare to feast, for we celebrate a victory.”

          Tommy didn’t understand what was going on, but he had heard something he did know. He heard the name that struck a memory for him and he turned to where the big snake curled around behind the chair. He hissed her name and she looked up. “What iss it you want, young Masster?”

          “Harry Potter?” he hissed, his parseltongue more like baby talk, but it was something he could manage, especially when other languages failed him.

          “The boy-who-lived.” Nagini agreed, nodding at the name. “He isss the sssavior to the wizzzard folk, but the Masssster will fasse him in the final battle. It isss there that the future will be desscided. Harry Potter will Sssave or Die.”

          Tommy shook his head, his mind rejecting the snake’s words. Harry Potter was the Savior, so He would have to live. It was the way of heroes. It was always so.

          Oliver had been back at school for two weeks, and thus far things had gone well. He had maintained his diet, kept himself to the rules that had been set for him, and fooled the entire student body. He had been forced to aid the wretched Carrows, as they tried to torture and abuse the rebellious young people and so far only once had he been required to use anything as dreadful as an unforgiveable. The problem was it was against a member of his own house.

          He had tried to get Neville to go along, to keep himself, and the others, from ending up as scapegoats for the Carrows’ anger, but it just figured that Longbottom chose now to grow a pair. Oliver had held Narcissa’s wand, procured for his use when Lucius had located his father’s old wand in a forgotten vault under the manor’s summer house, and pointed it in Neville’s direction. “Will you cease fighting the current administration, Longbottom, or do you really want this?” he’d asked and Neville had spit in his direction. True to his character, the one he’d been playing for the last three months, Oliver sneered and leveled the wand. “Crucio!” he’d spat, but the curse was weak. It most likely was unpleasant, but no way was it the evil punishment that the Carrows, or any death eater would expect of him.

          Neville rolled on the floor, screaming at the pain, but when Oliver released the spell, he smirked and winked, out of sight of the evil siblings. “Do you yield, Longbottom?” Oliver crowed.

          “Fuck you, Malfoy!” Neville cried and this time the curse came from the opposite direction.

          “I was handling it!” Oliver screamed at Alexis, but the witch scoffed at him.

          “Not very well.” She released the curse and motioned for Crabbe and Goyle. “Take this pig to the holding cell. He’ll spend the night there. No food, no water, and no comfy Griffindork bed!” she spat out and turned away. Oliver watched her go, followed by the two Slytherin boys that carried the sagging form of Neville Longbottom. The Gryffindor turned his head and smiled quickly in his direction.

          Oliver sighed, when he was left alone, wondering if he would last until the end, or if he’d end up on the wrong end of a death eater’s curse before it was over.

          Crabbe had been the worst part of it all, for he was suspicious and watched him relentlessly. Pansy was easy, all it took was some half-hearted flirting and she was putty in ‘Draco’s’ hands. But, Crabbe asked questions and followed him. He’d even come into the bathroom, when Oliver had been trying to finish his needed task. The boy had nearly seen the conjured cup that Oliver used to collect his fluids and drink them, as per the Dark Lord’s instructions. It was all he could do to sequester it in his robes as he slid out the door, and hide it in his trunk until he could transform it back in private.

          One more close call like that and Oliver was sure he’d be doomed.
- 9
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- 11
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Tommy, Son of a Dark Lord