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Tommy, Son of a Dark Lord	By : SomethingElse Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male Views: 30421 -:- 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
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AN:I do apologize if this is a difficult story to understand. I thought about revising it as I posted, but for the most part, it’s just how I wrote it, way back when.

Hollibell: as usual, you have struck a good point. But, let’s just say that there is a little bit of Draco still alive in there. I didn’t say he was ‘permanently’ gone, just vacant at this time.

Lil devil: this is a difficult story to put an actual pairing in. Yes, definitely Oliver/Harry, but the Harry/Draco part is too ‘off’ to say for sure. It will come about, eventually, but without giving too much away, let’s just stay with the first pairing for now. Okay?

Chapter Eleven: After the Final Battle; Comes the Struggle to Find Yourself

          Before the Dark Lord could call him to question him further on the realities of the Elder Wand, because of the truths that he had discovered only recently from the time he’d spent with the Malfoys in private, Severus Snape had managed one last brief act of treason for the sake of his fellows in the Order.

          He’d convinced the blond pure-bred Malfoys to defect with him, and together they had procured several cases of booty from Riddle manor, these including two locked trunks from Voldemort’s rooms, four cases of stolen wands and two boxes of potions, one being the polyjuice that Severus had brewed for the evil wizards, the last time Voldemort had asked it of him, and many handwritten sheets of parchment that contained the Dark Lord’s spells and potions.

          These were sequestered in various locations, some in the manor and some at Spinner’s End, but one bottle of the potion remained safely in the hands of Lucius and one had been given to Oliver Wood by Narcissa, while she kept another in her magically enhanced pocket. The time could come when they might be able to use this to protect their son, if ever they located him. Not one of these three ex-death eaters had been there when Voldemort had displayed his new son to his congregated followers, which he’d only done on three occasions.

          The final battle was scheduled for two weeks from the day that Voldemort called the couple to a secret location, and Oliver had no knowledge of these events.

          The Dark Lord questioned them both on their understanding of wands and their properties, a thing that he’d been obsessed with for months. Both told him what they knew, that the wand chose the wizard, and that the wand might defect to another, if it felt the previous wizard was unfit or undeserving. This was taught to pre-Hogwarts children, and never questioned by anyone. Narcissa had even explained that her sister Belletrix had lost a wand to Andromeda, when she was fifteen, because the younger sister had proved to be more adept with spells, and the wand was disappointed in the eldest of the girls. The Dark Lord was interested, and displeased by these facts.

The battle was to be waged, even though Voldemort seemed unsure of his victory. He’d left Tommy in a secure location, guarded by Wormtail, and Stan Shunpike. Tommy was asleep, in a makeshift bed with adapted rails on the sides, and the two Death Eaters were playing gobstones in the living area of the small house in Hogsmeade. The rat animagus was losing and Stan was becoming a right prat about it. Wormtail shoved the table over and yanked out his wand, but not soon enough to deflect the spell sent by the young Night Bus attendant.

“Avada Kedavra!” Shunpike chanted with a menacing sneer and the little old marauder fell to the ground. His eyes vacant, he slumped in a heap, releasing the contents of his bowels into his ratty old breeches. “Tha’s nasty!” Stan growled before grabbing up his things and exiting the house. He apparated away, leaving the dead man to guard the unplottable building.

Oliver was running down the rows of hallways, his hurried movements not like the character he was to be playing, but his hurry to reach the upstairs corridor would not be the worst thing to be noticed in just a few minutes, when the previous dosing of potion lost its effect. He hoped to reach the door to the room of requirement before this happened and after recovering his previous physical traits, join the arriving combatants that his sequestered coin had told him were there. He had just paced the hall, when the familiar feel of his body changing crippled him momentarily and as he leaned against the wall, the door flew open.

“Ollie! How did you get here before us?” Fred Weasley called out, pulling him inside of the room. “And what are you doing wearing a Slytherin Uniform? Come on, we’re just waiting for Mum and Dad.”

“I only got here a bit ago, Fred. I had a brush with one of the Carrows and my clothes were damaged. I found this and changed. I can do some spying, don’t ya think?” Oliver covered and George cawed at the joke.

“Good one, Ollie. Like you could ever pass for one of those snakes.”

It seemed only seconds later that the door opened and Harry was standing in their midst. Oliver was overwhelmed with a sense of déjà vu that he was looking at the boy who would finally release him from the hell he’d been sentenced to so many months ago. He would have crowed in happiness, if not for a sudden burst of indigestion that surged through his bowels. He felt like he was going to burst. Mention of a bathroom had him clutching at his middle where he stood behind the twins. When Mrs. Weasley began to argue with her daughter, and the main force of the combatants rushed out, Oliver made a quiet retreat and hurried off in search or some relief. He wouldn’t be able to fight until he was finished, and he would not be cheated out of his part in this by spending the battle taking a shit.

Harry flew through the air as the fiendfyre engulfed the room and behind him Malfoy clung like a second skin, trembling in either fear or excitement. Harry nearly missed the door as a familiar voice behind him whispered, “Knew you could do it, Harry. Best damn seeker I’ve ever had on my side.” and he turned slightly to be sure he still had Malfoy on his broom.

“Who?” Harry said but Oliver shouted at him and he snapped his attention back, flying directly at the door and tumbling them through just before the fire consumed it. Ron was to his side, pulling him from the floor as Oliver rushed over to see to Goyle.

“Crabbe?” Oliver said looking around, “Crabbe?”

“He’s Dead!” Ron snapped,

Harry thought he might have heard that same odd voice saying, “Oh, good.” But it was so soft he was sure he’d misheard. He stood and raised his arm where the diadem was dripping a red viscous fluid.

As Harry, Ron and Hermione concentrated on the ruined Horcrux, Oliver pulled a groggy Goyle to his feet and led him down the hall, to the safety of a large stone statue. Behind it, he leaned his friend against the wall and handed him the two things he’d held onto from the room, before he’d been saved by his housemate. A ratty book that had fallen into Draco’s pocket and Goyle’s wand. “Here, Greg. Keep out of sight, and you can read this while I’m gone. I’ve got to help Harry, like we agreed.” He said and Goyle smiled faintly.

“Yeah, I remember, Ollie. If we live to be at the final battle, we work for the side of the light. I remember. I’ll come join you when I’m rested up a bit. What’s this book, anyway?” he asked.

“Sixth year potions. You can brush up on your lessons, while you rest. Don’t rush out, I’d hate to lose a good friend, after all.” Oliver patted Greg on his shoulder, noticing his friend wincing as he did. Goyle needed medical help, he’d broken a few bones on the fall from Weasley’s broom, but he’d have to wait until things were decided. Oliver only hoped he’d stay put and wait until it could be arranged.

“Yeah, I’ll look it over. Thanks, Ollie. I mean, Draco. Got to keep up appearances, right?” Greg said, and Oliver smiled and nodded.

“I’ll be back, I promise. Stay alive, Greg. Please?” and the other boy nodded, wincing when he jarred his shoulder again.

“Go get um. Draco. Win this one for me and Malfoy.” And Greg pushed him out into the hall.

Oliver rushed back, but the trio was gone, so he hurried back into the main part of the school and worked his way into the various groups there.

Oliver knew Harry and his friends would be somewhere in the castle and he tried to follow, but a cloaked figure lunged out in front of him and he screeched to a halt. The Death Eater held him at wand point and Oliver realized he was not going to survive this. His one hope was to keep the man distracted so that he would not see the Golden Trio and decide to give chase. “I am Draco Malfoy. I’m Draco. I’m on your side.” He pleaded, waving his arms frantically to keep the man focused. Suddenly, the Death Eater fell to the ground from a stunning spell and he looked around to see who had saved him. A bruising blow to his gut, sent him down on top of Romley, whose face was now exposed where his mask had fallen aside, and he heard Ron’s voice from somewhere nearby. “And that’s the second time we’ve saved your life tonight, you two—faced bastard!”

          Oliver took a few minutes to catch his breath, and when he had recovered enough, he rose up and looked down at the stunned face of one of his tormentors. “You’ll never again have anything from me, you slimy arse-hole.” He hissed, turning Narcissa’s wand on the man and casting a quick “Finite” , “Crucio” and “Avada Kedavra.”

          After that, Oliver was like a man possessed. He fought hard, cursing at the dark robed figures wherever they were seen, sending many to their deaths and causing others to fall so that members of the DA could finish them off. He was everywhere, searching for ways that he could fight and things that he could do to slow down the destruction and damage caused by the followers of the Dark Lord. He never once thought about those viewing him or that they would probably be shocked to see the son of Lucius Malfoy fighting for their side. Oliver only wanted two things. Revenge on those that had used him, and an end to the terror that Voldemort promised to rain down on those who opposed him

          It went on for hours, the fighting, the spells flying overhead, and by the time they had gathered together in what was left of the Great Hall, Oliver was numb and cathartic. He found himself held by Narcissa and seated across from Lucius with a mug of tea in his hands and an odd blanket thrown over his shoulders. The couple was asking him questions, which he answered as best he could, but he had no way of knowing some of what they wanted. He hadn’t seen the real Draco, and none of them suspected that he would have, and he didn’t know where to start looking for him. It was only when he looked up and found Harry Potter staring his way that he realized what had just happened.

          Oliver was free. Harry had defeated the Dark Lord, saved the wizarding community and released all that had been in bondage to him. Oliver smiled faintly and Harry answered him with a small nod.

          Tommy crawled out of the rubble of the small house that Daddy had left him in. He was alone and scared, and Daddy was nowhere around. He sat against a boulder and held himself tightly, rocking to comfort himself and looking down. After a long time, he wasn’t sure how long, he heard the sound of voices and looked up to see several people coming his way.

          Daddy wasn’t among them.

          Tommy curled up to try to hide, but the people found him and took him away. They took him to a place where everything was white and scary and smelled like disinfectant spells. Tommy cried himself to sleep every night and curled up to hide from the people who asked him questions he couldn’t answer. They didn’t know how to take care of a baby, especially one as special as Daddy had told him he was. Daddy never came to get him, and he was so scared he just pulled himself into a tight ball and hid from everyone as much as he could.

          The healers shook their heads, wanting to help the boy, but not quite sure what to do. Here they had Draco Malfoy and he seemed traumatized by the events that had befallen him. They decided to move him to the Thickney ward and enlist the aid of Harold Rheingold, a noted mind healer.

AN: And now that the war is over, the fun stuff starts. Did anyone think this was the end of the story?
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Tommy, Son of a Dark Lord