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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: Oh, the joys of deliberate self indulgence. I have three weeks free and now I can post a few little tidbits that I have been holding back.

I have another story, that will be under the Threesome/moresome heading, though it's not anything with a group together. Just a lot of pairings. Hope that you all get to go check it out.

As for my trusting reviewers: Thank you again, and here's your answer. Of course, Tommy cries. But that little bit of Malfoy upbringing comes into play, and he does it quietly, compared to most babies. Whimpering is his main way to get attention. Here's another chappie, hope you like it.

Chapter Seven: Growth

Sleep came and went for the son of the Dark Lord as his mind drifted in and out of it. Days passed, or maybe they were weeks, or just hours.

His throat was still tight and his arms and legs weak, so he just lay in the cage and watched the twinkling lights in the magic ceiling.

The ‘father’ came in occasionally, to feed him or see to his needs, usually meaning to change the toweling that served as a nappy or to dress him in one of the various outfits that filled a small trunk near his cage.

Soft words emitted from the snake-faced man as he cooed to his little Tommy.

“Soon, my son. I am near to my goal of total domination. Then, I will teach you exactly how to be my son and a partner in my legacy. We will rule and I will see to your immortality. Then, we will be together, always. You have strength that you do not even realize. Strength that you would have wasted without me.”

The boy heard the words and wondered about them in his silent reverie.

When the man left him, the boy’s mind returned to thoughts of another man, and a woman, long pale blonde hair, straight and silky. The images were vague and his every attempt to make it clearer simply frustrated him all the more.

This couple was important, in some way, but he just couldn’t make their image any more firm in his mind’s eye.

After a while, it made his head hurt and brought a whimper to his throat.

The snake-faced father must have heard him and come to find to what was wrong.

The boy was pulled from his crib and settled onto his father’s lap, wrapped securely in a blanket and cuddled tightly.

“Oh, Tommy. Tell me what you need. Tell your father what’s wrong.” the man cooed to him as the boy whimpered into his chest.

Hannah had spent three days in the fortress, used daily by the Dark Lord, before she was given an old, abused robe and let go in the darkest corner of Knockturn Alley. She had managed to keep quiet, ducking into alcoves and behind rubbish bins, whenever anyone came near. In time, she was out of this part of the shopping district, and back on Diagon Alley, standing in front of the Weasley's shop, trying to gain the courage to enter.   A group of questionable witches came into view, forcing her decision. She nearly ran through the doors.

Fred stood in the lowest part of the shop, waiting on a pair of customers, when she entered and he glanced up. It only took a second for him to deduce why she was there. "George, could you come down here?" He called up to his brother. "We have some customers to attend."

George peeked through a trap door in the floor of their upstairs apartment and looked around. He saw the girl and noted her disheveled state, closed the door and hurried out of the apartment and into the store proper. He wove through the aisles to her location, near the skivving snack boxes, away from the window, and approached her carefully. “Are you alright, Miss?” George asked.

          “Been better,” Hannah responded.

          “Is there anything I can help you with?” He added.

          “Any chance you know where Harry Potter is?” She asked.

          George shook his head slowly. The girl looked deflated, but George offered her some tea and she nodded gratefully. He led her up the stairs to his and Fred’s kitchen and let her drop onto one of their kitchen chairs. “Can I ask why you’re looking for Harry?” he said.

          Hannah sighed. She closed her eyes and willed away the dread that filled her heart and images that filled her mind. George watched as she came to a decision. “I have some information for him.”

          “Oh. What’s your name, beautiful?” George asked.

          “Lucy.” She answered automatically, after days of being pressed to respond this way. “Oh, it was Hannah. Hannah Abbott.” She added.

          “Was? I see.” George tried, though he had no idea what she meant. Obviously, this girl had been through something terrible and it was making her mental. “Can I send a message to someone for you? Your mum or dad?” he offered.

          “My mum is in Suffock. I’d really like to see her.” Hannah told him.

          “Okay. Let me get you some parchment and I’ll fetch our owl. He’s a smart one. Never let’s the snatchers get him.” George assured her.

          Hannah wrote a carefully worded message, so as to safeguard incase George was wrong about his owl, and the young man sent it off. The owl was a beauty, all shiny black feathers, like a fat round raven. Hannah watched it fly away from the apartment window, her hopes flying with it. She shook her head at the lost opportunity to tell Harry Potter where Voldemort was hiding out, but at least he was out there, hunting for something that would someday defeat the evil wizard.

          Hannah never believed it when the other Hufflepuffs said that Harry had run away. She believed that he was searching for the perfect spell or weapon to defeat the Dark Lord, and the way that the death eaters in the compound spoke, they believed it as well.

          Fred closed the shop up early and he and George fixed a big meal to share with the forlorn looking girl.
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Tommy, Son of a Dark Lord