Okay, so I've been lurking around the internet for the better part of this month because I ran out of inspiration for stories. It's like, all of a sudden BAM! And I couldn't write. Not to mention, I've been sick with pneumonia for a week, and for those of you that don't know, it where fluid builds up in your lungs and you drown to death, basically. Not fun. We caught it early though, so I'm good. And I was on you tube today and started watching videos for Never Shout Never, and the song I Will Love You More Than You Will Ever Know. And if you want to know what Patch's mask looks like, then it's in that video. This was actually supposed to be a oneshot, but it grew and tripled in size 0_o
Enjoy!
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Bloody Light wizards; Lord Voldemort should have been ruling the Wizarding world by now!
Lord Voldemort, or Tom Riddle as he asked his followers to call him now, sat at his mahogany desk glaring at his paperwork in frustration. Dark Lords shouldn't have to do paperwork! He contemplated calling one of his Death Eaters to do it, but quickly trashed the idea; they'd probably screw it up anyway.
With a sigh, he stood from his desk, stretching out the kinks in his muscles, auburn locks swaying with the motion. After his 'resurrection' in the graveyard, his youthful looks had been restored minus his eye color, which Tom was happy for (he didn't really like not having a nose.) he ambled his way down the quiet hallways of the Riddle Manor, discarding his cloak on a random coat hanger, leaving him in his business slack and white dress shirt. He loosened his tie and gave a smirk as he passed a wide eyed Death Eater. Yes, the all-powerful Lord Voldemort had a thing for Muggle clothes.
He walked outside, basking in the soft moonlight that cast a glow over the gardens below. Tom bypassed them all, walking through the woods behind the manor, treading lightly down a rabbit trail that wound through the looming trees. He was like that for some time, lost in his thoughts; when he heard a quiet sound, almost like a sigh, filter through the trees.
Immediately, he was on alert; no one should be this close to his home without him knowing. Tensed, he whipped out his wand and crept through the trees following the sound to a small clearing that dropped off steeply on a cliff that overlooked the ocean. There, sitting on the edge of the cliff was a lone figure. It looked to be a Muggle because of the Converse and faded blue jeans and shirt the figure wore, but Tom decided that you could never be too careful. Besides, there was something funny with the persons head; it was extremely large, and shaped oddly, like a horse almost.
He narrowed his eyes at it and snuck closer around the person to get a better vantage point to further study him. The person was definitely male with the distinctive lack of bust and curves, though the build was feminine. Small, perfect hands lay in the boys lap while delicate porcelain feet dangled off the edge of the cliff. He had a small, compact chest that led to a slender neck that was abruptly cut off at the ridiculous thing on his head. Tom glared and he came to the realization that yes, the boy indeed was wearing a mascot head. Upon further inspection, it was the head of a zebra with a sad, mournful smile and a small patch on his left ear.
Tom didn't know how long he sat there, watching the boy gently swing his small feet, but the sun rose over the tree tops and highlighted the ocean. On some unseen signal, the boy sighed once more, stood up, and Apparated with the familiar crack.
Well, at least that ruled out him being a Muggle.
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That day found Tom once more frowning at his desk. He couldn't get the boy, Patch as he dubbed him, out of his head. He wondered if Patch would be there, and scowled at himself. What was this sudden fascination with the boy?
He was disrupted from his musings by a knock at his door.
"Come in," he said. Lucius Malfoy, his most trusted companion, waltzed in and bowed before taking a chair when directed to do so.
"We haven't been able to locate the Potter boy, My Lord," began Lucius in what was sure to be a long winded speech. He was stopped by his Lords hand in the air.
"We have no need to go after him anymore, Lucius. He's no longer a threat to any of us."
Lucius looked at him in shock. "My Lord, the prophecy…?"
"Void. Albus created a prophecy to generate more fame, at Potters expense. So, I reiterate, we will not deliberately harm the boy, but if he shows sign of fighting for the old man, then take him down," said Tom dismissively.
Lucius took that as his cue and exited the room, leaving his Lord to his thoughts.
Tom Riddle looked back at his desk when the door shut, wondering for the umpteenth time that day if he should go back to see Patch.
'It's only to check if the boy is a malevolent intruder,' he reasoned with himself. After all, he was the Dark Lord. He had to make sure his Manor was safe.
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He was watching the boy again, sitting a scant few feet from him but protected from sight by the leafy undergrowth.
Patch looked entirely too sad; Tom was struck with the sudden urge to scoop him up and cuddle him into oblivion. He frowned at himself in annoyance; where the hell did that come from? A slight movement caught his eye, and he glanced at Patch to see him looking directly at Tom though he didn't move from where he was sitting.
"I know you've been watching me, Stranger, Can you please come out?" asked Patch in a soft voice. The Dark Lord was startled, then complied. He sat next to the boy, dangling his Italian loafers over the edge. He was wearing his Muggle business suit again.
"Thank you, Stranger. I don't like deception," came Patch's quiet voice. This sentence struck a chord in Tom. He didn't like that the boys' voice sounded so defeated; like he was beyond hope. So Tom did something he had never done before. He brought his arms around Patch and pulled him to his side in a hug. At first, Patch tensed, and Tom guessed that Patch had never been hugged before. His thoughts were proven when the boy brought trembling, inexperienced hands to wrap around Toms middle in a n awkward hug. But that was all right with Tom; he had a while to work on Patch.
