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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
- 8
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Chapter Nine: It Goes Up A Notch

          Narcissa looked at her husband and waited for his words to make sense. She knew her son, and he was the boy they had brought back with them, the same one that the Dark Lord had told her would be acting strangely. This assurance was why she had ignored the little things that Lucius was blathering about. She looked toward the doorway, as if she expected the boy to walk in and challenge his father’s ridiculous words, but no one came in. Then her mind spoke of her own doubts, it told her that her son would never have reacted as the Dark Lord explained. Draco was strong enough to have survived the ordeal that he’d been put through without losing himself as had been claimed.

          The boy was lacking in many of the customs and style that Draco wore like a second skin and even casting an unforgiveable would not have robbed her son of his own personality. This boy, the one that had Draco’s face and hair, was too odd, too different, to be her son. She gasped and put a dainty hand to her mouth. “Lucius, where’s my baby? Where’s Draco?” she asked.

          The blond man took his wife into his arms and held her close. He pet her hair with one hand while he held her to his body and rocked her until her sobs died away, cooing to her the whole time. “We’ll find him, Cissa. We’ll find our son. If Draco is still alive, we’ll find him. I’ll call Severus and tell him what has happened.” When these words reached her ear, Narcissa pushed away swiftly.

          “No! If the Dark Lord knows that we have figured it out, he’ll kill my baby. He’ll kill us and whoever that boy is,” her words were punctuated by her fierce glare at the doorway. She shook her head and turned back to her husband. “We must pretend that we still believe he is Draco. It is our son’s only hope.”

          “What about the boy?” Lucius asked.

          “The imposter, Lucius? We must confront him. We must find out if he knows where Draco is.”

          Tommy curled up in his daddy’s lap and watched the three people who writhed on the floor in pain. His daddy had caused this, with a mere sweep of his hand, and Tommy was curious. He had an inkling that what was happening was bad, that the people were in pain, but he was distanced from it by the effects of his unorthodox birth.

          When the two men and one woman finally fell still, Tommy turned to his daddy and looked at the man’s face. Voldemort smiled at him, which twisted his features oddly, and said, “I will teach you these spells, wandless magic and many other things. We will rule together, my son. Give Daddy a hug, and then he can take you to your room.”

          Tommy reached around the man’s neck and held him close. It felt wrong, but it felt right, as well.

          “Yes, that’s what I want. My son loves me, and only me.” Tom Riddle sneered, but Tommy just held tightly. “Now, to your room, I think you need a change. Accomodata.”

          After the incantation was spoken, Tommy was lifted and carried, held so that his arms could remain wrapped around his father’s neck, and taken to the room that he had only known for a week. This time was unknown to him, so it seemed he had lived here all of his life. In the room, he was placed on a table, his arms finally peeled from around the man’s neck, and the Dark Lord began to strip his clothes off of him.

          When the nappy came away, Tommy smelled the results of his body’s wastes and the cool air felt soothing. The man smirked and went to work, cleaning away the offal and washing his son’s bottom and genitals. When Tommy was clean and powdered, a fresh diaper was pulled between his legs and fastened into place with a sticking charm. Voldemort tickled his tummy, making a scary face that was surely intended to please the boy, and speaking nonsense words.

          Tommy wondered what he was telling him, or if this was a spell, when suddenly another presence filled the area. Tommy turned to see the head of the giant snake, Nagini, near his face and his eyes went wide in fear. Still his voice refused to do more than whimper.

          “Relax my son. It is time for you to meet my pet. Speak to the boy, Nagini.” Voldemort said.

          Hissing sounds came to him, then something began to change. Words slid into place between the sounds and formed into coherent sentences. “SSS Ssss not ssss me. I would never harm sss child ss my Lord. Do you ssss me, now? Can you understand ss Tommy?”

          Tommy nodded to the snake and it hissed a pleased sound, like it was smiling, then it let its tongue flicker out to taste the skin of his cheek. Tommy giggled - because it tickled.

          “Now, my family is complete.” Voldemort said proudly.

          Oliver stood in front of the full length mirror in Draco’s room staring at himself in the tailor made dress robes and smirking the way that Greg had told him to. He had been practicing for days, dressing up in the rich clothing and moving in the arrogant way that Draco was said to walk, talk and act. He was more nervous as each day passed, wondering if he was doing a good enough job. His Scottish accent was another problem, for when he was nervous he tended to slip back into it and that could prove fatal for the deception.

          He began to strip out of the fancy things when Gobbin popped in to tell him that his parents wanted to see him. Oliver told the beast to inform them he would be right there. He drew a deep breath as he finished his changing and opened the bedroom door to make his way to the parlor that Gobbin had indicated they were in.

          Oliver had finally figured out where most of the rooms in the Manor were located. He had gotten lost on several occasions, but now he was confident that he could find his way to wherever they might decide to wait for him. As long as it wasn’t in the most damaged part of the house.

          In the parlor, the small one that had totally escaped damage from the dark force’s invasion, Oliver found Lucius and Narcissa seated around a tray of tea and cakes. He groaned inwardly, knowing they would expect him to partake of the sweets, and not wanting to drink any more than necessary, and he stepped up and leaned down to kiss the woman’s cheek. “Mother, Father. You wanted to speak to me?”

          The couple exchanged a bland look and motioned him to a chair. “Draco . . .” Narcissa began.

          “Son . . .” Lucius tried, but both hesitated.

          “Is something wrong?” the boy asked.

          Narcissa covered her mouth with her fingers and looked up at her husband.

          Lucius cleared his throat and leaned forward. “That remains to be seen. First, answer me one question. Where is my son?”

          Oliver felt the world drop from under him and his mouth opened and closed a few times. He was petrified that it was over, he was surely dead now. His body shook with fear and the man’s eyes seemed to bore into him. He couldn’t breathe, it was likely that he would expire just from fear, and dizziness seemed to confirm this.

          Narcissa noticed it first and put an arm around his shoulders. “No. Don’t panic, just tell us what you know. We are of no danger to you; we just want to know what has become of Draco, the real Draco.”

          Oliver shook his head, comfortable with the arm that eased his frantic thoughts. He stuttered out, “I just don’t know. I only know that I was told to do this, this or continue to be abused until I died. I’m so, so sorry.”

          Lucius sighed and reached out to pat the boy’s knee, noticing the slight flinch as he did so. This was not caused by fear of discovery, for the boy had already been discovered. The elder Malfoy knew what could make a young boy react to touch this way and his compassion won out over anger. “We must assume that Draco is alive, and safe, as long as we go along with this. We will aid you in your impersonation, and then we can all try to discover the true whereabouts of our son. What is your name, boy? I can’t call you by it, but it would be reassuring to know who I have living in my home.”

          “Oliver Wood, Sir. I am an orphan, now.” He wasn’t sure why he felt a need to add that, but Lucius seemed to respond.

          “No, you are now my son. You will never think of yourself in that way, again. When we find Draco, I will extend this relationship, if you are willing. I would even adopt you, if it is your wish. Now, let’s discuss the ways that your performance was lacking, so that it will be spot on from here out.”

          Oliver couldn’t believe his luck. He now had three allies in this terrible ordeal, and that made him feel more confident than ever before. Luck was flighty, though. After a few days of training with both the Malfoys and Greg, an owl arrived with a letter from the Dark Lord.

          Draco Malfoy was to return to school, and aid the Carrows in the disciplining of the unruly students there.

AN: Thanks to the reviewers, especially Hollibell for the five full reviews. It is wonderful that you are willing to respond to each chapter and every concern that you have with my story. I would like to dispel your confusion regarding Tommy's size, but the intent is to be confusing, at this point. There are hints, but the truth is for the future. Oh, and Oliver doesn't only drink urine, though he will be doing that, he just doesn't want to have to go as often. He will need to drink lots of water, and he should figure that out, but for now, he's of the impression that drinking little will keep him from getting to that unpleasantness.

and to unneeded, Tommy's crying is not a matter of choice, as this chapter has shown. He is unable to make more than the most pleasant or least invasive sounds. Voldemort wouldn't want a baby that much!
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Tommy, Son of a Dark Lord