Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chapter 1

Voldemort was surrounded. Even he knew his abilities. Fifty opponents against one. It was too much. He started back off. He had to block deadly spells coming from all sides and didn’t have a chance to attack.

In the corner of the eye, he saw Bellatrix dueling Molly Weasley. Both fighting to kill. Rodolphus came to aid. Bella pointed at her Lord and hissed to her husband. “Not me! Don’t help me you fool!” It was last thing Mr. Lestrange heard because few second later he got hit by the killing curse aimed into his wife.

In terror, Voldemort saw Death Eaters in a fallback position. He swore under his breath. It took him months to figure out how to take off the apparition restriction around Hogwards and it backfired. The Malfoy family escaped. So did Yaxley, Travers and several others, but he didn’t have a chance to notice who else deserted. Some kind of exploding spell hit him, but he didn’t even had the time to check what exactly it was because he had to pair two Avada Kedavras coming from behind. He conjured stone wall and made a dodge. He avoided the green light, but not the flying fragments of the wall hitting everything in radius of ten feet. At least a protego slowed down the deadly objects. He felt few other spells hitting him. Not with the full force, but enough to make him stagger. Voldemort’s magical shields were damaged. They only partially blocked the curses. Suddenly, he felt his wand slipping from his hand. Someone disarmed him. He didn’t saw who it was, but he knew only one person casting “Expeliarmus” in the fight to the death. And this person was very dead. He didn’t stand a chance with only wandless magic. Something was happening to his glamour. It was time to evacuate.

***

Hogsmeade. Why was he here? He was supposed to be nearby Albanian-Greek border and  somehow he landed only few miles away from the battlefield. He stood three dumbfooled for a second. He tried again. Nothing. After a moment, it hit him. He realized how reckless he was when he tried to apparate wandlessly thousand miles away. He was lucky he didn’t splinch. It wound have been the least epic end of things.

Voldemort couldn’t afford to panic. He was running out of time. He couldn’t stay there. Members of The Order must have already started searching for him. He couldn’t travel on long distances, so the short ones must have sufficed. This time he landed in the forest. He made a few more jumps until he couldn’t keep going.

When the adrenaline went down, the pain was overwhelming. His vision was blurred and doubled. It was like somebody tried to split his head in half. He felt dizzy and thew up. He realized he went half deaf. Hopefully only temporary. He didn’t even had time to examine his wounds when he left the castle. He looked down and realized his glamour was completely gone, but he couldn’t care any less. He casted a quick scanning spell. It was really bad, but had been worse. At least he still had a body. He tried to wandlessly get rid of the worst injuries, but with a very little success. The blood loss was even more serious than he thought. He hoped he didn’t leave red traces all the way from Hogsmeade. For now, he couldn’t do anything with the scent. Somehow, he managed to stop most of the internal bleeding in his stomach, but he didn’t feel confident enough to heal the head. Not without the wand. One wrong move and he could end up as drooling doll with a mush for a brain.

He looked around. He wasn’t sure where exactly he was, but those must have been the mountains surrounding Hogwarts. He needed to find a wand or at least ingredients for a healing potion. Quickly. He tried his best to remember what useful plants and fungi grew so high in the mountains but he couldn’t. It was really hard to think straight with a concussion. He got an Outstanding from Herbology, he had to remember something… He was sure there was a very simple solution. It was like the answer was behind the glass wall straight in front of him. There was a big, well-known animal whose blood had a healing properties. Pegasus? No. Close, but not quite. He had to keep going… He knew he couldn’t stay there, but didn’t have strength to move... Just a minute of rest and…

***

He heard some voices.  It took him a while to realize some dark-haired wizard was aiming a wand into him. His senses were dimmed, but he wasn’t going to give up without fight. He didn’t think he could survive another battle. Not in this state. His thoughts were too foggy. He wasn’t even sure he could stand up. He had to. Fight or go down. He was a disembodied soul once, he could deal with it twice. He was immortal as long as he had his horcruxes... Wait. They were discovered. Some of them even destroyed. Where was Nagini? He couldn’t remember. Did she escape? Everything depended on her. Could Lord Voldemort fight and risk death? A real death?

He hesitated for too long and it was too late to change his mind. He felt something metallic and cold being put on his wrists. He wanted to take it off, but his magic didn’t work. He realized in terror what those were. Magic-blocking cuffs. He felt shivers down his spine, not because of a several head injury.

His vision was coming dark again. He wanted to do or say something, but he couldn’t. The wizard didn’t petrify him, but Voldemort felt like he did. He couldn’t move. He struggled to keep consciousness. He heard only the fragments of aurors’ conversation.

“ ’Tom Marvollo Riddle’. He isn’t at the list.” How did they know his name?

“Snatcher?”

“No, he is marked”

“He looks so young. How old is he? Who on Earth turn minors into soldiers?”

“You-know- …”

“Don’t make a pun!”

The dark-haired man babbled something about ‘ the lacking of the sense of humor’ and finally said seriously “No Trace. He’s above 17.”

“It still makes me feel sick when I have to arrest a child.”

“He must have done something horrible to earn the place among He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named’s followers in such a young age. He’s dangerous. Don’t let him fool you Jane. Let’s get him to the others.”

“In this state? Just look at him. What will we become when our prisoners start dying out of lack of medical attention?”

“Why should we bother? We have hundreds wounded in Hogwarts to heal. We would have had one less problem without him. Do you really think he would even think about healing us if we swapped places with him?”

“Dorian!”

‘Fine! You know I was only joking. Merlin, he really looks like he is about to breathe his last.  Vulnera Sanentur”

The wizard flicked his wand again and everything was dark again.

***

Voldemort lied at the cold stone on his back. He felt the smell of the must. It must have been the dungeon. The ringing in his ears stopped. His head still hurt terribly, but he could think much clearer. He wasn’t healed completely, but he wasn’t about to bleed to death. Some sixth sense told him not to get into a murderous, kicking and screaming rage and stay still and calm. At least until he could learn something more.

He opened his eyes. First thing he did was looking at the cuffs. He took his time to examine them and make sure there weren’t any weak points on them. Taking them off without magic was impossible. Even amputating his own hands wouldn’t work. He knew how they were designed. Unspeakables in the Department of Mysteries explained him precisely their project. But they said it was a rough draft, not even in the testing phase. No chance for a prototype in next five years. They must have lied to him.

He looked around. It was a small the cell in the Azkaban. No windows, so he couldn’t tell on which floor he was neither what time it was. Surprisingly, he didn’t feel the presence of the dementors. It was beneficial to him. He never really trusted them and treated them like necessary evil. At least there was a one thing he agreed with Dumbledore. Not only because dementors undercut the morale among his soldiers. The creatures swapped sides as they pleased. They could easily sense and recognize his mutilated soul. They kept claiming it never looked appetizing to them. Although, he heard the silent ‘We would still enjoy a small snack anyway’. Ministry must have finally listened the sense of reasoning and get rid of them. Voldemort suspected, they wouldn’t eliminate them all in a day. They probably kept one or two for scientific purposes and executions. Like a Death Chamber with the Veil in the Department of Mysteries.

He was examining the door and the walls when he heard the voices at the corridors.

“For now we have three hundred seventy two people and there will be more. Aurors are still searching. Azkaban has never been full before. The trails will take months with Wizengamot working 24/7. How is situation here? Anything abnormal?”

“The Sleeping Beauty just work up.”

“Great, another hearing. Call Sanchez. He wanted to be present. Remind me what do we know about him?”

“Tom Marvolo Riddle. Marked. Found half-dead in the mountains surrounding the Hogwarts few hours after the Battle. He looks like a minor, but doesn’t have a Trace. We have nothing more.”

Lord Voldemort blinked. Didn’t he misheard? Have they really taken him for an unimportant Death Eater? It was… unexpected. But useful. Very useful in his unfortunate situation. The Dark Mark on the inner part of his left forearm indeed sold the story. Lord Voldemort put it on himself many years before. Nobody knew about it, because it was hidden under the glamour. He used it to conjure and control Death Eaters. It was very unwise to need at least a one follower to summon the others. Sometimes he used it to torture them for the entertainment. The spell on his forearm was a obviously different. It didn’t cause him any pain, neither had any nasty curses. But visually it looked like a regular Dark Mark.

Very few people knew how Lord Voldemort really looked like. Most of them were the older Members of Order. Usually, his former classmates and teachers from the school. When he made his first horcrux, in the age of sixteen, he stopped aging. To avoid suspicions, he cast a glamour on himself and changed it subtly with the following years. First he used it only to look older. But when he learnt about his origins in the Little Hangleton, he did everything he could to never resemble his disgusting muggle father again. As he started gathering followers and preparing for a war, he quickly came up with the conclusion he would earn the most respect and power in the form of a snake-like monster.

He wondered how exactly the aurors knew his name. He was barely conscious when a wizard casted an unknown spell checking his identity. He suspected The Quill of Acceptance and The Book of Admittance had something to do with it. Those were the powerful magical artifacts conducted the census in the British Wizarding World. Voldemort took a quick glance at them in his schoolyears when he wanted to learn about his origins. He didn’t have time for more research, because he didn’t want to risk Dumbledore finding out. Later, he heard of a group of the students who casted a simple tracking spell on them during their detention when they had to copy the notes from the archive. They combined it with the Homonculous Charm and created a self-updating map of Hogwarts. Voldemort was really impressed when he heard about it. The Members of The Order must have done something similar. Probably to verify each other’s identity and minimalize the risk of impersonating them. [1]

The door opened. He saw the male wizard from the forest and two others walking in.

“All right, Death Eater. Let’s talk. Don’t play fool. You weren’t under Imperius. We are not stupid.”

Yes, you are. Honestly, who hired those incompetent idiots? Why to bother with The Quill and The Book, when they didn’t check the names in the archive? They had the bloody Lord Voldemort on the silver plate and nobody realized who he was. How on Earth The Department of Magical Law Enforcement still stood? It was an auto-destructive institution and didn’t even need a Dark Lord to shatter it into pieces. Now he knew how Harry Potter managed to hide himself for last few months. Voldemort used to wonder how the most wanted wizard broke into Ministry, run away and kept hiding for the months. Apparently, the kid didn’t have to even try very hard if that was all the aurors got.

Unfortunately, the idiots can be brute. This one could become a decent Death Eater. Interrogation wasn’t pleasant, but they had to try much harder to break Lord Voldemort. Fortunately, nobody dared to use Veritaserum on him. Ministry of Magic must have already realized, it was poisonous to all Death Eaters. After the Barty Crouch Junior incident, Voldemort modified the spells on their tattoos. It was better to have a dead follower than an alive source of problems. It was only a temporary solution. The cowards still could betray their Lord and reveal his secrets, but at least not unwillingly. Voldemort knew he couldn’t trust them completely. He was still working on the anti-tracery spells. They were too unstable to use them on a massive scale. Wormtail was his very literal lab rat and paid the ultimate price.

All the Death Eaters were used to torture every few days. Standing on two feet after a few rounds of cruciatus wasn’t anything extraordinary. It would be suspicious if he gave in so easily. But sooner or later, he had to start talking. He had to come up with a good backup story. Otherwise, they might investigate and bring somebody competent. He pretended to be a scared kid who had no idea what he signed himself to. He tried to take them on pity. He kept claiming, he couldn’t give them anything. Otherwise he would be killed by “his Lord”.

Obviously they didn’t believe a thing.

That was to be expected. Voldemort knew too well his followers. All of them tried to sell this story. “The Dark Lord made me do it! I had no choice!” Another Death Eater was probably telling this fairytale in the next interrogation room at this very moment.

Aurors offered him a deal. Not a good one. Plead guilty and keep your damn soul. Sell someone out and get a chance to leave the jail as a very old men. But he had to avoid Wizengamot, for all costs. He could have even agreed the sentence in Azkaban. Too many old and well-informed wizards worked in the Wizarding High Court. He couldn’t risk that somebody would recognize a young Riddle in him.

As a Lord Voldemort would be killed for instance, but even as a Death Eater, he was in danger of not getting out of the prison alive. For wearing a Dark Mark alone, he could get a life sentence, if not The Kiss. He had no choice but to cooperate and wait for an occasion to run.

Chapter Text

Chapter 2

(Six months later.)

“No. I won’t let this to happen.” Warden Baugé knew he has already lost the fight, but his pride didn’t let him admit it.

“That was the order.”

“Did The Head of DMLE precisely ordered to put him in Riddle’s cell?”

“No, but this is the only cell with one occupant and he ordered to put minimum two people in one room.”

“Has anybody read any of my reports? We left this cell as ‘a single one’ for a reason. We are overcrowded and understaffed. It is only matter of time before something happen. That cell can’t have another resident. I could try to talk to the guards on the third floor and cramp the new one in… “

“Look, I have it in writing. Please don’t make it difficult. Step down, or I’ll take disciplinary action against you for refusing to carry out the order. You don’t want to deliberately make the Department of Magical Law Enforcement work difficult. Don’t you?”

“No Sir.”

“Good. Now sign the papers.” After that was when man’s head in the fireplace disappeared.

The Warden Baugé swore loudly and took a deep breath. He stood up and wrote the quick note to the Auror Office and waited for a newcomer. Did those assholes lost their minds?! He really thought that reducing the guards’ salary and making them work overtime for last few months was the top of everything. Apparently they treated his reports as a toilet paper. Maybe next time he will send them the recipe for a laxative potion and see if they will notice the difference. He spend whole Friday evening fully describing the ‘Riddle incident’. He even missed the weekly gambling with Trespeuch and Pinturault. And assholes in the Ministry didn’t even bother to read it.

Tom Riddle was one of the nasty ones. The kid behaved well for the first few months until they lowered their guard around him and gave him a chance to escape. He spent most of the time quietly sitting in his cell and doing what was told when guards came in. He didn’t really fight them. Sometimes at night he was heard crying and calling his mum.

Until recently.

Last month, when Lester, Jakobson and McLagan visited his cell, Riddle stole their wands. Obviously, he couldn’t use them, so he broke one and caused the explosion which broke down the door.[2] He knocked down and disarmed two other wizards by breaking another one. He used the third to force the door to his office. Somehow, the kid knew the password to the Portkey. It was like he planned everything to the minute. How did he know when guards hopeless at wandless magic had their shifts? If reinforcement didn’t arrive in last minute, Riddle would be gone. Bloody hell, Warden has never seen anything like this as long as he lived. Seven wizards against one. Riddle was unarmed and couldn’t use a single spell and it was a fair fight. He easily made dodges like he was dancing. In his eyes there was something terrifying. Something inhuman. Guards were afraid to cast the deadly curses, because they didn’t want to hit their coworkers. Riddle used everything in sight on his advantage. Pieces of furniture, magical cutlery. A self-refilling kettle was a destructive weapon in his hands. He even used the cuffs on his wrists to block the spells aimed at him. Fortunately, the Aurors managed to incapacitate and capture him.

Baugé really needed a drink. He fetched an elf to bring him a glass of whiskey. He knew he shouldn’t have drunk at work, but he didn’t give a damn at the moment. He absolutely hated his job. He didn’t apply to Académie des Aurors to end up like this. He should have listened his uncle Clément and become a DADA teacher in Beauxbatons. He spend over fifty years in Wizarding World’s Justice System and he burned out professionally forty years ago. In his former job in France, his boss told him to “take a break” when he came drunk to work and revealed some sensitive data. Back then, Baugé was absolutely sure he was done. He was drown in debt and couldn’t afford to lose a job. Fortunately the British Ministry of Magic desperately needed new employees with an experience and turned a blind eye on his previous misconducts. He even got a promotion.

He looked at the newcomer’s files while sipping a drink and eating a tasteless sandwich made by his wife. This task was beneath him. His secretary should have done the paperwork. Or Deputy Warden. He could have put someone else with Riddle and put a newcomer in a free spot. But honestly, he didn’t have a patience to do it. Those pieces of shit were less than humans. For some reason, Ministry insisted to keep them alive and pack them like sardines. It was a miracle, the Azkaban still stood in one place. It would be better if all Death Eaters were Kissed by dementors. Warden has never seen the creatures, but he was sure they would make his job so much easier. Maybe trusting them with guarding prisoners wasn’t the smartest idea, but why Ministry removed them completely from the Justice System? They could have kept one of them to efficiently incapacitate all the criminals. Problem solved.

Chapter Text

Chapter 3

Draco Malfoy was held roughly by two armed wizards. Two others escorted him. He didn’t even try to fight, but it didn’t make the guards any gentler. The ties were digging into his skin painfully.  He stopped feeling his hands hours ago. He was already powerless without his magic. He had no idea why they restrained him additionally. He had no way to escape.

“Get in, Death Eater!”

They opened the door to the cell and shoved him in. When he lied face-down on the floor, he realized he was finally untied. He massaged the hurting hands trying to bring back the circulation. He got on his knees and looked around. It was a small cell. In the corner there was a bucket. Probably for use of a toilet. The upper bunk was occupied by another prisoner, who gave him a curious look. Draco ungracefully stood up trying not to flinch. Everything hurt. He hobbled across the cell and sat at the free spot on the bed without making the eye contact. He wasn’t in the mood for any conversations.

When he closed his eyes, he saw his parents and the last few months. Mother’s tears and worried face of the father. After the Battle of Hogwarts, the three of them spend last few months hiding in a muggle village. There was a high price for the heads of the Death Eaters.  It was a hard time, but at least they had each other’s. They couldn’t draw any attention, so they kept their use of magic on a minimum. When father got sick, Draco became the family's main breadwinner. Malfoys’ fortune was frozen in Gringotts and they had to eat something.  He had no choice but to find a muggle job on a nearby farm. Sometimes, he could speed up the work with magic, but usually he was surrounded by the muggles. In addition, the three of them had only mother’s wand and Narcissa needed it at home to take care about her husband. They hoped Lucius would get better, but they were wrong. Father was bad. He needed to see a healer.

One night, Draco put a sleeping charm on the mother and wrote a quick note on the parchment. He took the rest of wizarding money they had left at home and brought his father to London. When they entered the St Mungo's everything went to Hell. There must have been installed some kind of an automatic identity checking spell, because the alarm was activated the second they crossed the threshold of hospital. The aurors appeared out of nowhere. Draco tried to run, but he had no chance. They disarmed and cuffed him in less than a minute. He was separated him from the father and took to the dungeons of Ministry. He tried his best to learn what happened to his dad. The aurors were deaf on his questions and pleas. He had no idea if his father was alive neither what happed to mother.

His trial didn’t take long. He refused to answer the questions about his parents. (A glimmer of hope appeared in his heart. If they were asking him, that may have meant they didn’t know where the mother was. She might have been still free.) Draco was charged with wearing a Dark Mark, Unforgivables and helping the Death Eaters to infiltrate Hogwarts. He didn’t cooperate, so he got a life sentence.

He felt so helpless. The guilt was eating him alive. Everything was his fault. He wanted to play a hero and now his father was captured and mother was all by herself. It was the matter of time, before she would be caught. She didn’t have a wand, neither knew nothing about life among muggles. How would she manage? And father… The punishment for escaping Azkaban was The Kiss. Draco didn’t want to think about it.

So he moved his thoughts on his life from now on. A life sentence. The concept seemed too abstractive to him. He couldn’t really imagine it. Azkaban was his home for the rest of eternity. Was it better fate than a death? He wasn’t sure. Draco grinded his teeth and tried not to cry. He didn’t want to look weak.

***

Few hours later the loud noise took him out of his thoughts. He jumped immediately. The food flap opened with a metallic clang and the two bowls of soup went through it. His cellmate took his portion unhurried and came back to his previous spot. After a moment of hesitation, Draco stood up and did the same. The food was cold and it was hard to tell what it was, but he didn’t complain too much. He didn’t have a decent meal in ages.

He was almost done with eating when the voice coming from the upper bunk broke the silence out of sudden.

“They will rape you tonight.”

“W-what?!” Draco almost dropped the bowl.

“The guards. You can fight them to keep your pride if you want. But acknowledge that it will happen anyway, so prepare yourself. Begging them to stop will only make them more sadistic. Don’t bother.”

Draco had no idea how to answer. The cellmate didn’t feel like any more explanations were needed.

***

After the time that felt like eternity, Draco finally made a decision. If the Sorting Hat was ever right to consider putting him in Gryffindor (for a brief second) it was because of this moment. He took a deep breath and stood up.

He meant to clear his throat to get the cellmate’s attention but he didn’t have to. The dark eyes met his giving him a cold questioning look. Draco really wanted to back out, but instead he used all his strength and courage to form the next words.

“Would you like to do me?”

“Pardon?”

“Would you like to fuck me?”

The cellmate gave him another long judgmental look, probably wondering if he misheard and said.

“I’m not interested. If you want to sell yourself for benefits, you are in a wrong cell. Few others locked at this floor would probably go for it. But not me.”

“No! I didn’t mean it like that. I… don’t expect anything from you in exchange. I’m just… still a virgin. I would prefer to… have my first time on my own terms. With someone… whom I don’t find disgusting.”

The cellmate rose an eyebrow.

“And what makes you think I’m better choice than the guards?”

“You were kind to me. You… warned me.” Draco wasn’t sure it was a good idea to point out that the man was quite handsome. If circumstances had been different, Draco would surely had a crush on him. He tried his best to hide the blush on his cheeks.

“No.”

“But…”

“Trust me. You don’t want me to be your first.”

***

Draco waited for them starring into the darkness and imaging the worst. His cellmate didn’t lie. They finally came. The sudden flash of  light blinded him. Four guards appeared in the doorway. The tallest man with a nasty burn scars on the forehead and left cheek entered. Two othered followed. The fourth man waited outside with other’s wands in the pocket. They looked at Draco like hunters for a prey. He felt completely helpless. It was happening. He had nowhere to run.

Suddenly, his cellmate blurted out with a mocking tone.

“Lester! Long time no see! Where have you been? Sick at home? Why does your face look like this? Did you have some kind of accident?” Draco couldn’t believe his own ears. Did the prisoner lost his mind? Everybody in Azkaban got crazy at some point. “Is that a new wand? What happened to the old one?”

The auror with the scar on his face threw the prisoner from the upper bunk to the floor and punched him with a full force.

“The dog learnt how to bite back.” Said the other

“I preferred him when he was nice and obedient.”

But the prisoner only splinted the blood and laughed into his face.

“Why did you hand your wand away? Don’t you know how to use it? Maybe I can help you? I’ll take a good care about it! Come on! You can trust me!”

“You little piece of shit!” The auror got into the rage.

It wasn’t a pretty sight. Draco balled up on his spot, holding his breath and praying to become invisible. Fortunately the guards have already forgotten about him. Draco really tried to not look. But he simply couldn’t take his eyes off. The guards were kicking the prisoner until the man couldn’t keep up with the sarcastic comments. And then they turned him around, took off his pans and had their way with him. When they were done, the man laid on the floor flat and lifeless. The guard with the scar gave him last kick and the three of them left the cell in the good mood.

“Next time, I’m trying another hole. He sucks cocks like a professional whore.”

“Are you insane? He is good, but I wouldn’t trust him the slightest. Do you really want to lose your manhood?”

“I’m sure there is the way to make him cooperate again.”

When the lock in the door clicked, the prisoner opened his eyes and swore under his breath while getting into the sitting position. Apparently, he only pretended to be unconscious to make them lose interest. Smart move.

Wincing, the prisoner touched himself between the legs to check the damage. There was a blood on his fingers. Draco realized he was starring and immediately turned his head around. There was a sound of ripping material. The man must have made a makeshift bandage from his tunic. Draco tried his best not to picture it. He felt like he should have said something but he couldn’t find the right words. ‘Thank you for getting raped instead of me’ didn’t sound very good in his head. So he kept uncomfortably starring at the floor until the cellmate spoke up.

“Next time they will take you, but they won’t be that brute. I might have picked a bone with them and they want a payback. The act won’t be pleasant, but you will survive in one piece. Afterwards, they will get bored of you and start tormenting another freshman. Try to look less pretty.”

Draco looked up. The man was dressed back again, his face was all covered in blood, but he looked completely unconcerned over the previous events.

“Why did you help me?”

“I didn’t. They are equally rough no matter if I comply or fight back. I simply got bored of letting them do as they pleased in silence.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t. I didn’t do it for your gratitude.”

“I won’t forget it. I own you. What is your name?”

“Tom Riddle.”

“Draco Malfoy.”

“The son of Lucius Malfoy?”

Draco felt a lump in a throat, but nodded and shook man’s hand.

“Yes. You knew him?”

“Try to find someone who didn’t.”

“Right. He was high in the ranks. What about you? I’ve never seen you before. I thought I was the youngest one with The Mark. What were you doing during the war?”

“Mind your own business.”

The conversation was apparently over.

***

Voldemort looked at the bright-haired man lying peacefully on his bed. The tears, fear and exhaustion must have already put him into sleep. No. You don’t pity him. You don’t feel guilty. You are the bloody Heir of Salazar Slytherin. You have been in Azkaban for only six months. You couldn’t get soft that easily. Is this what breaks you? A crying eighteen-years-old?

“Why did you help me?” The question still rang in Voldemort’s ears. He tried his best to convince himself that he did it for a selfish reasons. He wanted to gain an ally. Someone who could be manipulated for his own benefit. So what it was the useless, scared Malfoy boy? Voldemort didn’t have much choice. He couldn’t simply ask for another cellmate.

 Bloody Hell, he will stick with that story.

Chapter Text

Chapter 4

When Draco woke up, he heard the bed creaking. His cellmate was already up, heading to the bathroom.

Riddle held his head high. His face didn’t show any emotions or pain. Although, he couldn’t hide the limping. Tom took off his tunic and trousers and shook them out to get rid of the dried blood. It was the closest thing to the laundry that they had in prison. His chest was all covered in bruises in different stages of healing, scratches and scars. Under the injuries there were hidden really impressive muscles most people would envy. Draco was never muscular. On a Quidditch practice he was always told that he was built perfectly to be a seeker. Slim and agile. At the harvest at the muggle farm he heard many unpleasant comments because he couldn’t keep up with his co-workers. He wasn’t able to bulk up no matter how hard he tried. He wasn’t strong enough.

When a cellmate met his gaze, Draco immediately looked away pretending there was something very interesting on the stone wall.  “Don’t be so spooked. You’ve already seen everything.”

Draco’s cheeks turned as red as Gryffindor quidditch robes. He felt like a creep. He only managed to mumble something that sounded like ‘sorry’. He really wanted the ground to open up. Who on Earth spy on someone in the bathroom?! What’s worse barley a few hours after a sexual assault.

Riddle only chucked. Draco had no idea how to respond.

Next few hours were very quiet. Nothing more happened except the stale bread with the water for the breakfast. The cellmate wasn’t very talkative person and Draco didn’t feel like disturbing him. He spend most of the time starring at the celling and trying to not think about the worst scenarios.

Just after the dinner, Tom broke the silence. He knocked to the bed frame to get Draco’s attention. “Draco? You don’t mind if I call you by your name. Right?”

“Not at all.”

“We are going to spend more time together, no matter if we want it or not. You can call me Tom, if you want.”

“OK, Tom.”

“Do you have suggestions to pass time? Is your offer from yesterday still up?”

Draco immediately blushed. “Emmmm... Y-yes?”

“You don’t sound very certain.”

“No. I’m sure.”

“Think it over first. I am going to be very clear here. I am not a nice person. I killed. I tortured. I did atrocious things with a cold blood. You would have been disgusted of me if only you had known a little about me.” Draco looked into the dark eyes again and gulped. He believed every word the man said. There was something terrifying in them. “But I am not a rapist. That is where I draw a line. I will not force you. You can change your mind any time. Say stop and we will stop. Just remember. Don’t you ever dare to accuse me of tricking you into the bed.”

Draco nodded, not sure about the answer.

 “If you wish I will guide you through your first time. I understand why you would rather have it this way. I am quite experienced and I’ve heard many complements in bedroom. Some people even told me they spend with me the best night of their lives. For the record, I do feel sorry for them.” Tom stepped back and turned around. He casually added  “Now, I’m going to wank. You are welcome to join me. If not, you’d better cover your ears for fifteen minutes. I’ll try to be quick.”

Tom was about to climb back to his bunk when Draco took his arm. “Yes. I want to do it. But…” Draco needed a moment to find a courage to finish. “I’m very new to this. All I did before was some hot kissing with a guy. So… be gentle. Please?”

Tom gave him generous look and smiled, took his hand and guided him to bed. His lips were very soft and welcoming. Tom indeed knew what he was doing. His tongue explored the other’s mouth. It was terribly distracting. Very soon Draco realized skilled hands were toughing his hard cock through the material and his own hands were on his partner’s ass squeezing it roughly.

“Ready to take the pans off?”

“Yes.”

Their prison robes ended up on the floor. To Draco’s surprise, Tom didn’t mount him immediately. Instead, he sat on the bed with legs casually spread. Draco’s eyes widened as soon as he realized what was happening. Tom started opening himself with his long delicate fingers. He didn’t foreseen that possibility. There was no lube, so the split had to sufficed. Tom straddled him, impaled himself on his cock and started riding him. Merlin, the feeling was indescribable. He came in less than thirty seconds. Tom released him from his embrace and laid on the side.

“Have you ever touched yourself from behind?”

Yes, he did. Under the shower. He even experimented a little with his wand. But he didn’t have a courage to say it out loud. Draco only gave a slight nod.

Tom prepared him carefully and thoughtfully with his tongue and fingers. He paid attention to his facial expression and paused any time it seemed to be too soon for him. He distracted him capturing his manhood with his mouth. When Draco was ready, Tom entered him. He started with slow, almost lazy thrusts. He took his time to let Draco get used to intrusion before speeding up and fucking him for real. Draco saw stars again when he climaxed. It didn’t take long for Tom finish inside him.

They both were breathing heavy. Their arms and legs were still tangled together. A hot cum was leaking out of him. Draco started to wonder what do people say to each other’s after the casual sex. He must have said it aloud because Tom answered. “I believe ’Thanks for a good fuck’ would suffice.”

Draco didn’t know why it made him laugh. Maybe it was the combination of the fear, trauma, anxiety and stress and he needed to blow up the tenson. Or it was just Tom who showed him so much affection and kindness. Or he simply was happy that he got laid. “Yeah. You are great. You didn’t only brag when you said people spend with you the best night of their lives. ”

“Maybe I should have chosen the career of a prostitute instead of this.” He pointed at the Dark Mark on his forearm.

Draco laughed “I bet many witches and wizards would have been grateful. You would have made their dreams come truth.”

“You have no idea.”

Tom really made him feel a bit better. But it didn’t change his unfortunate situation. He was still away from his family, stuck in Azkaban with guards who… did things. A smile must have fade away from Draco’s face because Tom looked and him seriously and said “You are still afraid of what will happen tonight.”

“I…”

“I can try to distract the guards again if you want to. But I’m not sure same trick would work twice.”

“No. I have to face them. I want to get over with it. Someday it would happen anyway.”

“I was scared too when I came here. More than I want to admit it.”

“Did it get any better with time?”

“Yes. It did. If you want, I can obliviate you afterwards. When we get out of this hellhole.”

“I don’t think I would ever see the daylight ever again.”

“Heads up, Draco. Never say never.”

Chapter Text

Chapter 5

It’s been several weeks. Few months maybe. Draco lost the track of time. He preferred to not think about the events that happened late at night. He listened Tom’s advice and remained as relaxed as possible when the men took him from behind. It hurt a lot, but he knew it would have been a pure nightmare if he had been taken dry. Tom was right again. After a while guards got bored of him and started visiting his backdoor less frequently. He hoped one day they will completely lose interest. Usually when they appeared in their cell, it was only to beat Riddle who didn’t lose the spark. Draco thought the man almost liked teasing with guards. He never showed the weakness neither fear. He laughed into their faces and dared them to try harder. Usually, when guards went too far with Tom, they simply glued him back with magic and let him be for the next few days until he was mostly healed. Draco wondered why they let Riddle live. Did they wanted to avoid the paperwork covering the murder of the prisoner? Or did they simply enjoy beating Tom and wanted to break him before his death?

Riddle wasn’t a bad companion. Draco didn’t know why Tom seemed to be surprised someone liked to spend time with him. He didn’t talk much about himself and his past and Draco didn’t push. Sometimes they played chess with stones they found in the crack in the wall. Tom wiped the floor with Draco every time. Even when he wasn’t allowed to move half of the pawns to make it more challenging. He tutored him and told him about chess openings. He also taught him how to play fanorona, draughts and morris. They became almost friends.

 At nights, Draco tended to climb to his bed to warm up a little. Winters at the middle of North Sea were terribly cold. They laid together, snuggled up in each other’s arms and trying to not freeze to death. They breathed the same air, steam coming out of their lungs and prayed to survive till spring.

***

Draco would never forget that night. That was when everything changed. He was lying in his bed trying to fall asleep after another nightmare when a loud explosion hit him out of nowhere. He landed on the stone floor among the fragments of the bunk, hitting his head. He felt the cold fresh air and wind on his cheeks. Was it snow? He looked up. Two faces looked at him through the hole in the wall. To be honest, Draco was sure he was dead.

“Mother! Aunt Bellatrix! What are you doing here?”

Mother hugged him with all he strength and kissed his cheek like she always did. Merlin, he missed her so much. “We came for you, Honey. Let’s go. There is no reason stay in this place any longer.”

“Mother, wait. I want you to take Tom with us. He is a friend. He saved my life.” Draco looked at Riddle who stood behind the rubble in a fighting position. He watched them vigilantly with deadpan expression on his face.

Bellatrix didn’t look very pleased either. “We’re not picking up the pet strays form the street.”

“He is Marked.”

“Oh, is he? I was present at every Initiation and assure you I’ve never seen the brat.”

“Look at his forearm.”

Her eyes widened. “Impossible! It must be some kind of trick”

Narcissa stepped it. “Bella, can we have this conversation later? We need to hurry. Aurors should be here any minute.” She was right. The alarm was pounding above their heads. Someone was behind the rumble and tried to open the door swearing loudly.

Bellatrix gave Tom a long judgmental look, the one reserved for people she tortured in a free time “Fine. But the price is the same. He will help the cause too.”

Narcissa nodded and picked up the cane which must have been the portkey. The four of them disappeared.

***

Voldemort felt the sudden change of climate. It wasn’t freezing anymore. The air was much warmer and smelled like a spring. He heard birds sing. The four of them stood in the puddle of half-melted snow. The first flowers emerged from the ground after the winter. At the horizon, the sun was rising illuminating the valley with lake. He never thought he would miss the sunlight so much. It gave him the hope for the first time in many months.

Bella snarled at them “The Lestrange Residence is nearby Effinghead Loch.”

As soon as those words were told a dilapidated two-storey house grew out of the ground. Voldemort has never been here, but he was aware of the place’s existence. It was the smallest, long-forgotten Lestrange’s property located in Wales. In the times of the former glory it used to be the summer residence.

The four of them stood at the courtyard when Narcissa spoke up “Your name is Tom isn’t it?”

“Yes, Madam. Tom Riddle”

“We haven’t properly introduced each other. My name is Narcissa Malfoy. I’m Draco’s mother. That’s my sister Bellatrix Lestrange.”

“Pleasure to meet you.”

“Welcome home, Tom. Come in.”

“I do not think it is a good idea.”

“Don’t be silly. You look like you are about to pass out of exhaustion. You need a rest.”

“Thank you for the offer, but I am good. I will go my way.”

Bellatrix grabbed his arm. “Not so fast Sweety! You aren’t going to betray your Lord and desert. Aren’t you?”

“What I will or will not do is not your business. The orders that Dark Lord gave me are not for undesired ears.” He must have struck a nerve, because immediately a wand was aimed at him.

It didn’t get physical, because Narcissa spoke up with more determined voice “Bella, that’s enough. Tom, listen the sense of reasoning. You can’t just leave like this.” She pointed at the magic-blocking cuffs on his wrists. “You might get caught and leave the tracks that will lead the aurors to us.”

“I am really grateful you worry about my well-being, but there is no need to. I assure you I can take care about myself.”

Draco stepped in. “Sorry, but mother and aunt are right. We can’t let you go. We I don’t know if you won’t sell us out when they’ll capture you.” Tom opened his mouth to say something, but Draco didn’t let him. “Do I really need to point out you have been arrested at least once? I imagine back then you could use magic.”

Voldemort wondered what to do. He really didn’t expect to become a hostage among his own soldiers. He considered all the possibilities. Killing the three of them would be an option, but what was next? His jewelry was indeed a bit inconvenient. As much as he hated to admit it, he needed a help of another wizard to get his magic back.

“Please stay with us until we will figure out how to take off the cuffs.” Narcissa asked.

“If you insist.” But internally Voldemort cringed. ‘What am I getting myself into?’

Chapter Text

Chapter 6

Tom was guided though a cracking staircase to a small room at the attic and told to make himself home. The house was very old. Nobody lived there for over 50 years. It was infested by doxies and the furniture was in a deplorable state. On the walls there was a mold which caused a terrible dog-like-barking cough. But after a cell in Azkaban it seemed to be a luxury palace. A hot bath with soap was a blessing. He stayed there longer than necessary learning how to appreciate small pleasures again. He let himself relax for the first time in a very long time.

Dressed in a fresh robe he went down to the kitchen. At the staircase, he heard sobs. Narcissa was hugging Draco who kept apologizing. Tears streamed down his cheeks. Lucius didn’t survive the arrest. He was buried in Azkaban few months before. Tom felt very unpleasant feeling in his stomach that had nothing to do with the hunger. No. It definitely wasn’t guilt.

At the dinner, Bellatrix explained them the plan. If Dark Lord was hurt like seventeen years before, they were supposed to bring him back. Unfortunately, Tom Riddle Sr.’s bones were unavailable anymore. Members of the Order bulldozed the graveyard at Little Hangelton. Narcissa was supposed to sacrifice herself in the same ritual that was performed in the Chamber of Secrets. She agreed in exchange of her son’s freedom. Draco objected and volunteered to take Narcissa’s place. There was a nasty argument between the three them. After the war, Black sisters’ relation cooled significantly. Bellatrix refused to call Narcissa ‘a sister’ since the Malfoys’ desertion at Hogwarts. She kept in touch with her only because Cissy was one of the very few Dark Lord’s supporters who have left. Everybody else was caught or left the country. Well… The aurors had a valuable informer in Azkaban.

Narcissa and Bella didn’t have a chance to kill each other’s, because Tom stole the golden spot at the family dinner. He announced Bellatrix had a good plan, although there was a one tiny obstacle. Bellatrix wouldn’t be able to find the Dark Lord no matter how hard she tried, because he was gone for good.

As a result, few curses (one deadly) were casted at him. His reflex didn’t disappoint him. Ten seconds later Bellatrix lay disarmed on the floor. A knife avoided her eye only a few inches. “This is the only warning you will ever get, Woman. Do not underestimate me. The next time, you try to attack me, you die very painful death.”

Draco and Narcissa looked in terror at Tom who did the stupidest thing possible. He gave Bellatrix her wand back and offered a hand. Obviously, she refused any help. She stood up as fast as possible and left the house slamming the door.

Draco was still recovering from the shock, but Narcissa managed to catch Riddle, who carried plate upstairs,

“Tom, please tell me. Is it really the truth? Is The Dark Lord dead?”

“Yes.”

It was.

Lord Voldemort was truly dead.

Since The Unbreakable Vow.

***

For selling out a couple of followers he negotiated a shorter sentence. He was very aware forty years in Azkaban was a really shitty deal. Karkaroff managed to get out after only five years. But aurors were very clear here. Tom could have taken the deal or personally convince the fifty members of Wizengamot he deserved less. Obviously he could have tried bargain and given them more information, but then nobody would have believed he was a minor Death Eater. Finally, he agreed for forty. And then aurors told him about another an ultimatum. To Take The Unbreakable Vow. Apparently every wizard caught for collaboration with Voldemort had to do it. No exceptions. If he objected, he could have asked Wizarding High Court itself for the special treatment.

As soon as this stipulation, with its exact wording, was presented to him, he was out. No. Absolutely not. He wouldn’t do it. No matter what. Even if he had to tear the whole bloody Wizengamot apart with bare hands. He didn’t care he was chained and devoid of magic. He would fight and kill everybody who dared to imprison The Lord Voldemort. The blood boiled in his veins. He felt the new wave of rage.

Suddenly, one of the aurors pushed him. Voldemort tripped on the chain around his ankle and fell down. It woke him up and made him go back to his senses. He was beaten, starved, suffered because of serious sleep deprivation and basically looked like a human trash. He hated it to the core, but he had to admit it. He was completely helpless. It was his weakest point. Any wizard could have taken him down in this state. He grinned his teeth. A muggle too.

Back in Albanian Forrest he was weak too. But he wasn’t powerless. He lost with baby but won with Death. Killing curse hit him and he was miraculously alive. And that thought gave him the strength to fight to exist every day. He was a madness, a power and a strength. Nothing could touch him. Literally. He was a god.

In custody, he didn’t have that luxury. He was mortal again with no magic and it scared more than anything else in this world. He was on aurors’ mercy. The Cup, the Ring and the Necklace were gone. So was The Diadem. The soldiers of The Order knew what they were doing. The whole Room of Reequipment burnt in the Fiendfyre. He wasn’t sure about Nagini, but he had a bad feeling about her. After the fight with Longbottom she became deadly silent.

In addition, he was running out of time. One of the aurors started suspecting Tom Riddle knew more than everyone thought. Sooner or later he would share his thoughts with his coworkers and the deal would be off.

So he took the bloody Vow. Because what other choice he had left? Neither of his followers knew where he was. They would learn he was captured from the front page of Daily Prophet announcing he had been already executed. If Kingsley had ever known he had been alive, he would have made sure the information wasn’t public. Unless it would have been too late to bust him out of the prison.

***

His end was rather anticlimactic.

He was knelling on the stone floor in his own urine in feces because apparently he didn’t deserved to use a bucket. He didn’t get the final meal either. His jaw trembled. He was terrified. In a few minutes he might have been... dead. He felt a strange urge he’s never experienced before. He wanted to have Nagini with him but not only as a save horcrux but as a… companion? He wanted her to wrap around his arms and reassure him it wasn’t the end. She could convince him he could find a loophole. He felt a strange pressure behind his eyes. His throat made some kind of whine. Could it be…? No. Impossible. He had never cried. Not for real. He has shed a tear or two, but it was only an act. To fool people and manipulate them for his own benefit. Voldemort preferred get what he wanted by force, but he didn’t hesitate to use all means necessary. Emotional blackmail included. Tender words and poppy eyes to wizards and witches like Hepzibah Smith or Horace Slughorn. He used this trick, every time he pretended to be a cute, innocent Tommy.

The aurors among him didn’t even notice they made The Greatest Wizard of All Time cry. They were chatting about upcoming Quidditch World Cup Finals between Malawi and Senegal. They made bets and loudly complained that all British teams withdrew from the competition. Finally, one of the aurors paid attention to his weeping. He looked at the time and told the coworkers to hurry up because their lunch break was about to start. He hit Tom’s cheek and snarled “No pouting on my watch, Death Eater. Reap what you sow. You’re pathetic.”

He swallowed hard and nodded. He wiped the snotter from his face with a dirty robe and managed to find the strength to put up his trembling hand. The auror really would have rather to not touched him. He took his hand with a firm grip and disgust on his face. “Will you, Tom Riddle, to best of your ability, not let Lord Voldemort rise ever again?”

“I will.”

The auror let his hand go. It was done. He couldn’t believe it. He was still alive. He released a breath he didn’t realize he was holding and closed his eyes. He was bloody grateful. To the God. To the Fate. It didn’t kill him. He appeached every breath he had taken, his every heartbeat.

He stayed in a kneeling position until he realized everything around him got quiet. The aurors must have left on their desired lunch break. He was alone for the first time since he woke up in Azkaban. Nobody questioned him. His case was finally closed. He made it. After a while he realized something. He was so scared that he forgot to ask himself a question.

“What’s next?” He didn’t think it through. He did, but he was sure it was a suicidal plan. He never thought he would get this far. What was he supposed to do now? He felt panic again. The Vow was done and it didn’t kill him for instance. But what later? He was supposed to not let Lord Voldemort rise ever again. This thing could have been bloody literal. He had no idea if he was even allowed to stand up. Was he about to live the rest of his life on tip toes (or on all fours) fearing he would break the stipulations of The Vow?