Not beta read and I have no idea what I had in mind when I wrote this. I just wanted to write something with Tom and Abraxas after an awful parasitology test and Vicky (Miss RSS) gave me the theme for it. So, this one is for her, who made me like the ship. Although I don't know if this is a romantic ship or just a huge bromance. Vicky, darling, I present you, our OTP, "Broto Legal".
i
The first time Riddle did something amazing, they were still in their first year. No one in Slytherin knew much about the skinny, short boy that Tom Riddle was back then – not that he ended up growing out of his thinness or his shortness after the years – and most students suspected he might be a half-blood, thanks to the fact his name didn't sound magical enough to their ears, and, for Slytherins, the very thought of a half-blood sneaking into their common room was horrifying, this the reason Riddle – quiet, almost invisible Riddle – ended up singled out during their first year.
He was, as most people in his house believed, invisible. No one saw him on the common room, no one heard him speaking during dinner, no one spent the weekends with him, but, once they were in a class, it was just a matter of time until Tom Riddle made himself very visible. It didn't matter if his visibility was achieved through a raised hand in the middle of the classroom or with his sometimes broken English answering a question – he had a weird accent, the Slytherins decided, nothing compared to the posh speech from the others, although his English was flawless -, but, most of the times, he ended up being seen by the others when he succeeded with a spell. Everyone from the other houses loved to see how Tom's spells were flawless – except, maybe, Minnie McGonagall, who frowned and tried to best him – while his housemates would grimace and whisper about how much of an attention seeker the boy was.
It was on one of these demonstrations of his magical potential that Abraxas Malfoy saw how much power little Tom Riddle was hiding with his quietness. Transfiguration class had just ended and professor Dumbledore was still talking with a few students on the doorstep of his classroom when Darius Nott, a second year whose parents Abraxas knew very well, walked by the group of students exiting the class and, in a very un-classy way, bumped into Riddle. A simple and rather unpleasant act that, for a first year, could mean war, especially when followed by the mean laugh that Nott let out of his mouth when he saw the younger boy's books being dropped to the floor.
Little Tom, Malfoy saw, simply narrowed his blue eyes and, before Darius could walk further than a few metres, the older boy's bag was ripped open, making all of his material fall from it. No one else saw the tiny smile that appeared on Riddle's face as they were too busy laughing at poor Nott who was now trying to gather his books and notebooks that, slowly, got soaked in the dark ink that spilt from his broken inkbottle.
Abraxas never talked about the incident again but it was, in his opinion, one of the greatest victories achieved by Riddle.
ii
On the third year, most Slytherins had one rule that should be followed in the house: do not talk to Tom Riddle. The only ones who dared to go against it were Alphard Black, who was paired up with the said boy in Potions, and the lovely Dorea Black, who had the habit of trying being nice to every creature that crossed paths with her. Aside from them, no one else interacted with Riddle. After all, they did not know his precedents: he didn't talk about his family, no one knew any Riddle – wizard or Muggle – and they didn't have any way to know for sure if Tom was just a disgusting half-blood or a really quiet and reserved pure-blood. They couldn't risk it, though, and it was better to stay away from him.
Also on their third year, Abraxas caught Tom Riddle talking to a snake. If he told that to anyone else, they would say they weren't surprised by this behaviour. The boy was weird and lonely; it was normal for him to go around talking to animals and objects. Yes, he was lonely and yes, he was weird, but weirder than Tom Riddle was the fact the snake answered him… Or at least Malfoy thought it did because, once Tom hissed something to it, the serpent made the same hissing noise, as if greeting him. Now, that was weird.
Riddle saw him and Abraxas remembered how flushed and angry he got. He threw angry words at the blonde boy and said something about how he should be at Hogsmead with his stuck up friends instead of prying on the others.
Malfoy tried to tell him he was just going to ask him if he wanted some Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans because he had gotten way too much of them back in Hogsmead but couldn't even formulate the question before he got an annoyed snake being thrown against him.
iii
Fifth year and everyone decided to talk to Tom Riddle. Actually, someone finally discovered something about his parents – a pure-blood couple – and that was enough to make everyone feel comfortable around him. Now, one year after the discovery, he was Slytherin's golden boy: the girls fell for him and his politeness while the boys respected him and his magical power.
There was a ball – if half a dozen students plus teachers could count as a ball -that year during the holidays. Most people were not in the castle but Abraxas stayed when his parents told him they would visit his Aunt Lucretia in Romania and he decided that Hogwarts was better than his aunt's house. Riddle also stayed, he always did, just like a few other students, like that oddball Hagrid, the Quidditch addict Minerva McGonagall and little Myrtle Mortmore from Ravenclaw.
Two things happened that night that would be forever marked in his memory. The first was when McGonagall insisted in dancing with Riddle. She said something about him being a grumpy creature that should enjoy himself at least on Christmas night and practically dragged him to the middle of the Great Hall and made him dance. It was odd enough to see Riddle being comfortable around someone, let alone feel comfortable enough to dance, but Minerva and her will of iron were enough to make him enjoy himself. By the end of the night, Tom Riddle was flushed and had danced not only with Minerva but also with Myrtle – one dance, a Muggle song by a Something Armstrong – when the McGonagall told him to do so.
The second thing was what happened once they went back to Slytherin's dungeon. They were the only ones there and the quietness of the place added to mead induced euphoria Riddle got was enough to make him let himself fall on one of the black leather couches in a really un-elegant way and start to sing numerous songs of which Abraxas knew none. He sang about boulevards of broken dreams, about stuff that might be somewhere over the rainbow, about memories he was thankful for and even about stuff he had no idea of what they meant because, as he said, "I don't understand Russian, I just hear people singing in it!".
Abraxas simply sat there and stared at him, laughing with each random lyric that escaped from his mouth. It was the most interesting holiday he had in years.
iv
In their seventh year, Abraxas didn't know if he wanted to congratulate Tom on his grasp of magic or hit him for his betrayal. He was the only one that discovered Tom Riddle's pure-blooded parents were nothing but a mind trick the half-blood – yes, half-blood, Riddle's father was a Muggle, a simple Muggle – the smaller boy had cast upon Dorea Black.
"She has an open mind," he explained. "It was easy to get in and create a fake memory. I had to do it."
Malfoy noticed there was something wrong when he saw Riddle in London during the summer break. The boy – his master, his lord – was dressed in ragged, old clothes and walked through Muggle London as if he knew the place as his palm. Once they got back to Hogwarts, the blonde asked what had happened for him to be there, in the middle of Muggles, dressed as one of them – worst: dressed as a poor Muggle – and Tom had two choices: he could obliviate Abraxas or tell him the truth. Maybe the only thing that made Malfoy not jump on his neck was the fact the other actually told him the truth but not without making him swear under the Unbreakable Vow that he would never tell anyone else about how he was the son of a wealthy Muggle and a witch, abandoned in a poor Muggle orphanage since his birth. The story was worthy of being written by that Muggle author Riddle often talked about, the one who wrote about the Christmas' ghosts.
Once again, Abraxas was surprised by how much control Tom had over his own magic. To create a fake memory and implant it in someone else's mind was a complicated thing, let alone doing it at the age of fourteen, like he had done. Once again, Abraxas was reminded of why he ended up following Tom Riddle.
v
"Just take care of it. Hide it and, when the time comes, you'll know what to do."
Those were the words Riddle had said to him on one night when he appeared on his house, sweaty and paler than usual, with his blue eyes coloured with blood-red stains and his elegant hands trembling so hard he couldn't even hold the old, black diary without almost dropping it.
Abraxas didn't ask what that diary was or why he should keep it safe, he only did as he was told. That was his job: obey Tom's orders. He was pleased with that job and he knew the reward for a well-done task was good. He knew Riddle valued those who served him in the right way.
It was only after years that Malfoy discovered the horror that simple diary hid but, again, he did not question Riddle. If the other wizard believed that kind of magic would be of use, than the only thing he could do was to trust Tom Riddle's judgement and, once again, be amazed by his audacity to even try out that kind of magic.
vi
Tom Riddle couldn't believe Malfoy was perishing thanks to such a stupid disease as Dragon Pox. Thanks Merlin it was not contagious or anything, otherwise he wouldn't even be standing too close to the other.
"It suits you, Dragon Pox," he said, watching as the sick man let a weak laugh escape through his lips. "You are the only one who would be silly enough to go pry on infected dragons."
"You know dragons are a weakness of mine." Abraxas' voice was low and weak, often being interrupted by his ragged breath, which made Riddle wince. Malfoy usually was that expansive person whose voice was always loud. Seeing him in that condition made the wizard realize how weak all of them could get once Death decided to grip their souls.
"All those stupid animals are your weakness. I saw the peacocks on the garden; they are ridiculously extravagant, even for you."
"You can't say anything about extravagance, Tom."
"That's not my name," he hissed, to which Abraxas only laughed again.
"Come on, grant the dying man this last wish, will you? I won't call you 'my lord' or 'Voldemort' in my deathbed… But, as I was saying, extravagance, right? You do like extravagant stuff too. That name is the proof of that."
"It's better than Tom."
"It's stupidly long and complicated to pronounce. How much do you bet people will refuse to speak it correctly in the future?"
Riddle stared down at the other, feeling his stomach turn as he saw how ill looking Abraxas actually was. The sweaty skin, the sunken eyes, the bluish fingertips and lips… Death was, truly, knocking on his door.
"I'm a wreck, I know," whispered the blonde.
"At least there are no pustules, I heard they look horrible."
"You are not the only one who can work with illusions, Riddle." The dark haired man narrowed his eyes in a way that reminded Malfoy of the eleven-year-old boy who ripped Darius Nott's bag open with magic before letting his fingers touch the other man's cold hand. Slowly, as if removing a piece of clothing, some purplish pustules appeared on Abraxas' hand and arm, making Tom frown.
"All right, you already saw it, you can stop now. My face is not the best now and you really don't need to see it covered with those disgusting things," said Malfoy, his chest heaving with each breath he took, as Riddle removed his hands and the pustules disappeared once again.
"A glamour charm? Really? You waste your energy with glamour charms?" Tom rolled his eyes.
"I had an especial guest, it was a necessary waste."
Riddle stared at him for a few minutes. It was weird to see someone his age in that condition, especially when the said person was Abraxas. And it was even weirder seeing someone so near their death making stupid jokes, accepting their end with such an ease.
"I think," whispered Malfoy, patting Tom's hand and finally catching his attention once again. "That Lord Voldemort may need to attend more important business than looking after a sick man."
"Yes. Remember the Russian man Avery found years ago, Dolohov? He finally came to England."
"And you need to meet him."
"Yes."
"Well." The blonde man smiled. "Make sure to sing to him that Russian song you sang back in our fifth year. It sounded nice, although I have no idea of what it was about."
"Neither do I." A tiny smile made its way to Riddle's lips but quickly vanished. "But you are right, I have to go."
"Yes, yes, you can't keep the Russian waiting." Malfoy took a deep breath before raising his eyes to stare at the other.
"Take care, Malfoy," said Tom, getting up from the edge of the bed and walking away.
"My lord?" The wizard stopped on his tracks, turning around to look at his former schoolmate. "It was an honour to serve you."
"I thought the dying man's wish was not to call me by 'my lord'."
"That was the Knight of Walpurgis speaking." Another weak laugh and Riddle felt the urge to leave the room as soon as possible. "The dying man wants to say that it was a honour to meet you, Tom Riddle."
He sang about boulevards of broken dreams (Boulevard of Broken Dreams, by Ted Weems),
about stuff that might be somewhere over the rainbow (Over the Rainbow, by Judy Garland),
about memories he was thankful for (Thanks for the Memory, by Bob Hope and Shirley Ross)
and even about stuff he had no idea of what they meant because, as he said, "I don't understand Russian, I just hear people singing in it!". (I imagined Polyushko Polye/Полюшко-поле, a Russian song from 1933. Tom's knowledge of a Russian song comes from a headcanon of mine where one of the workers of the orphanage, a doctor, was a Russian man).
Title from the song Those Were The Days by Mary Hopkins, which is kinda like the English version of the Russian song Dorogoi Dlinnoyu/Дорогой длинною, which is the one I'm most used to listen (though their lyrics are pretty different from one another).
Hope you liked it, though it's far from perfect, I had fun writing it. (: As always, reviews are lovely, you guys know that.
