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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: Okay, I know it’s been a while, and I do want to apologize. School was a lot easier when I was twenty. Winter break is here, and I plan to update all of my stories.

Jujukitty: this should give you some idea of what happens to ‘Tommy’, kay?

Chapter Twelve: Aftermath

          Oliver wasn’t sure what to do, now that he was free to be Oliver Wood again. The last dose of polyjuice had worn off and he was wandering the countryside near his home in Edinburgh. He was alone, none of his family left and his house was ruined. He didn’t have anything, except a borrowed wand from the chest that Lucius had stolen from Voldemort and the few galleons that his ‘foster family’ had given him.

          The Malfoys had recovered their son, though in his traumatized state, he was less of their son than Oliver had been. They had tried keeping him at home, but he screamed whenever they came near him or went into a catatonic state and just curled into a fetal position for hours. In the end, they’d had to return him to St. Mungo’s and just visit him there.

          Oliver had tried his hand at a few occupations, quidditch, aiding the remaining Weasley twin in his shop, and working with those who were rebuilding Hogwarts, but he found himself unable to concentrate on spells and produce the results needed for his tasks. Now, as he returned to the streets of Wizarding London, he realized that his trauma was as real as that of Draco Malfoy, and he would likely never be useful until he’d sought out help. He was admitted to St. Mungo’s three days later, less than four months after the final battle at Hogwarts.

          After several months of therapy, Oliver Wood was released from St. Mungo’s, a bit more sure of himself and a little nervous about his future. His recovery had been aided, amazingly, by the two Malfoys. He had told the doctor, Dr. Rheingold, about their time together and he’d contacted them. They seemed to feel that they could help, and it was something to help them deal with their own losses, with their only son in his current state of mind.

It was decided that Oliver’s mind had split during his time under the polyjuice and he was having difficulty because he couldn’t maintain one personality for any length of time, unless it was that of Draco. He was going to spend some time in this disguise, again, until he could learn to adapt to his true identity again. The Malfoys agreed, as this would keep the press from reporting the truth about Draco and let their son be seen in society so that his return would not be even more traumatic for him, when he was finally cured. Neither Lucius or Narcissa ever let themselves believe that this would not happen, eventually.

Another bit of help had come in the form or Gregroy Goyle, who had visited Oliver in the hospital and was now carrying his bags as they walked out of the front doors. Oliver had been given another dose of polyjuice from the sequestered case and was walking proudly in his guise as the Malfoy heir. News of Draco’s time in the hospital had spread, so it was important that he be seen leaving and looking fit and healthy; strong and secure, were the words that Oliver would have used. He was bringing the young man back into the world as a mentally healed and poised bit of the weary pure-blood world.

This was the beginning of the most unusual few months that Oliver could have ever imagined for himself.

It had been a quiet week, Harry thought, as he and Andromeda shopped at Wrongnat’s Little Wizards for new clothes to fit his growing godson, Teddy Lupin. The older woman was looking at shirts and jumpers while Harry perused through some odds and ends. He bought a toy boat and a new dummy as well as a rattle shaped like a fat wand and a small blue outfit. After he had paid for his purchases, he wandered toward the bigger child toys and was considering how old Teddy would have to be for a riding broom toy.

While he waited for Andromeda and Teddy, who were trying on new clothes, he stood near a side door, watching children playing in the opening to an alleyway.

“Excuse me,” a soft voice said near him and Harry turned. “I thought so. You are him, Harry Potter.”

“Yes, I am.” Harry said looking around to make sure they weren’t drawing any attention.

“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to disturb you, but I thought maybe you could help. He’s asking for you.” the little man said, looking out the window. “He seems scared, real scared.”

Harry’s brows knit together as he looked over the sill. The children that he’d thought were playing seemed instead to be taunting someone deeper down the alley. Harry pushed past the little wizard and out the door.

The malicious laughter of the various boys, all in their preteens, filled the area and Harry looked past them as he worked through those gathered. The closer he came the clearer the image he was seeing.

At the end of the alley, between a corner and an old rubbish bin, huddled a black haired man dressed in odd clothes and curled into himself. He was chanting something and shivering. When he came close enough, Harry noted an odor pervading the area that seemed to emanate from the man. He turned back to the crowd that had gone silent and glared at them.

The only sound was the stranger, repeating over and over, “Harry Potter will save me. Harry Potter is the savior.” and the faces of the crowd seemed to recognize him, too. Harry turned back to the man and got closer, holding his breath to the stench as he looked harder. He lifted the man’s chin, causing the curly black hair to fall away from the face of Draco Malfoy, streaked with dirt and tear tracks but definitely the face of his long-time rival.

Hazel eyes looked up at him without recognition and Harry’s brows furled tighter.

“Draco?” he asked quietly.

The face didn’t change but the words that came from his mouth did. “I can’t find Daddy. I looked everywhere. He was going to teach me new spells, he said he would come back. He said, ‘Tommy, is my perfect son and we’ll rule together’ but I can’t find him. Harry Potter will help me, I have to find Harry Potter. Please, help me find my daddy.”

“Tommy? Who are you?” Harry asked looking now at the similarities as well as the differences in his old school mate.

“I’m Tommy. . . . .he called me Tommy Riddle.” Draco said, “Are you Harry Potter?”

Harry nodded slowly as the eyes of the man focused and realization filled them with hope.

Before he knew it, Harry found himself with a lapful of a crying Tommy/Draco and the sound of the murmuring crowd rose as they watched these events.

Harry rocked the clinging man until he realized that this was becoming a very public display and he worked his way to his feet, taking Draco with him. He quickly apparated away with the other, noticing that the crying had subsided and the arms that clung to him were becoming less frantic.

He landed at the door to Grimmauld Place and entered quickly, dragging his burden with him, until he reached the closest bedroom, where he laid Draco on the bed, waving his wand to clean away the dirt and stench that had followed them. Draco curled up under the covers, his thumb sucked into his mouth as he slept with a peaceful look to his features. Kreacher came into the room as he was staring at his ‘guest’.

“Who is that, Master Harry?” the elf asked startling the young wizard.

“Draco Malfoy. He found me in London.” Harry explained.

“No, that isn’t Master Malfoy. Doesn’t smell right. Master Malfoy is a member of the black family. Kreacher knows his smell. This is wrong.” the elf said leaning closer.

“He said his name was Tommy Riddle. But that isn’t possible.” Harry scoffed. “He’s dead.”

“The Dark Lord is dead. There is not a Tom Riddle left in the world. This is not the smell of the Dark Lord.” Kreacher agreed.

“Tommy. . . . ” Harry said thoughtfully and the black curls moved on the pillows. “Who are you?”
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Tommy, Son of a Dark Lord