The Dark Lord: Behind the Scenes

A/N: My friend came up with the suggestion that Tom wasn't as bad as we all think – that he has a softer side. So I decided to show you what came to mind. Enjoy!

Summary: The dark lord indulges in bubble baths, whiskey and Celestina Warbeck.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything in this story. Except maybe Voldemort being a bit of a softie (:

With a weary sigh, Tom Riddle sank down in his chair. Things were not going as planned. Malfoy was moving too slowly. It had been almost a year since he had been given the task and he wished Malfoy would just hurry up and kill the old man. Dumbledore was getting old – he had to be around 150 years old by now. Too old to match him. And once Dumbledore was out of the way, it was a clear shot to Potter. Then he, Voldemort, would be in complete control over the world – both wizarding and muggle. Nothing would stop him – not even death.

Voldemort raised his wand and paused for a moment, not wanting anyone to see what he was about to do. No one was to know about what he did when he wasn't plotting – when he just needed a break sometimes. Deciding he was safe, he flicked his wand and a glass of whiskey appeared in his hand. He stared at it for a moment, thoughts chasing each other around his head. Trying to banish thoughts and relax, he gulped down the whiskey and stared at his empty glass. Nothing. If anything had happened at all, the thoughts were running faster and faster. Planning, plotting, deciding. He rolled his head back. Being the most powerful dark lord – no! The most powerful wizard – didn't come without it's stress.

Tom sighed again and glanced at the door, listening for someone. Nothing. This was just a time of nothings and nowheres and waiting.

In a split decision he disapparated, appearing in a large bathroom complete with a massive bath and everything else he might need. Using his wand, he got the water going at just the right temperature and then the bubbles. Next he disrobed and stepped into the bath, leaning back and letting the hot water wash over and relax him. The bubbles were almost overflowing the tub when Tom reached for his wand and stopped the water. Only two things left – the drink and the music. Feeling that he might as well go all the way, he summoned a favourite album of his – Celestina Warbeck. Even he did not understand his fascination with her music. Her voice was just so beautiful and calming. It made him feel invincible in a way nothing else could. Not even Bellatrix and her ... attentions.

Refilling his empty glass with more whiskey, he gave yet another sigh. If only life was more like this – easy to control.

Riddle stayed this way for a long while refilling his whiskey glass and reheating the water when needed. He went throught a couple of Celestina's albums, and had almost fallen asleep several times. Suddenly Tom sat up straight. He had a nagging feeling in his stomach. Quickly he climbed out of the bath while it drained, pulled on his robes and with a flick of his wand, Celestina's voice melted away and his whiskey glass disappeared. He glanced around. The owners would be home soon and as little as he feared them (they were only muggles after all), he wanted no one to know about this – even in death.

With a swish of his robes, Voldemort disapparated again and had just settled into his chair when Avery burst in and flung himself to his knees.

"What is it? Whatever it is, it had better be good."

"Yes, my lord! Malfoy got us into Hogwarts. Dumbledore is dead!"

"Did Malfoy do the deed?"

Avery's face fell. "No sir." Voldemort waited impatiently to be told who had finally done it.

"Well? Who did it?"

"Snape, my lord."

"That was not the plan! At all! Crucio!" Avery writhed in pain and Voldemort snarled at the display of weakness. "Crucio!" he shouted again. Why did nothing ever go to plan?

Voldemort paused. Dumbledore was dead. It was as though that information had been too great to comprehend the first time. But it was something. Something great.

"Fetch Malfoy at once." Dumbledore was dead and he, Voldemort, was the greatest sorcerer in the world without a doubt. He smiled, listening to Celestina's voice in his head and thinking about the next time he'd be able to get away.

Dumbledore was dead.