Team: Puddlemere United

Position: Keeper

Word Count: 2151 on Google Documents.


Tom Marvolo Riddle is many things—monster, killer, evil—and he would have to agree with all of it. If there is one thing that he is not, however, it is being a gluttonous bastard. Well, bastard yes, but gluttonous no. In fact, he did everything in his power to avoid being a glutton, whether it be food or drink. You see, he had seen what gluttony does to people, and he would never allow himself to become one of them. Even his Inner Circle knew this from their last week of seventh year….


Tom found himself in a quiet hallway, standing beneath a window looking out onto the grounds of Hogwarts. It was peaceful, and he found the silence relaxing. Now, all he had to think about was making his next Horcrux. He knew what it was going to be—in fact, he even knew who he was going to kill in order for it to be made. Now, he just needed to figure out how to get it where it needed to go, and how to get to it. Helena had said that the diadem was—

"My Lord?" a quiet voice spoke into the darkness, interrupting the stillness and silence that he had taken refuge in. Was it really too much to ask to be left alone? He needed to think! How did they expect him to be able to do that when they were all drunk out of their minds and acting like—

"What is it Abraxas?" Tom kept his voice cool and monotonous. After all, he was their Lord; he couldn't afford to show them his turmoil and disgust at the moment. None of them would understand, anyway. That was okay, though—they would receive their punishment later.

"The others were curious as to why you were not partaking in the celebrations. Are you not happy with our win over the Gryffindors?"

Tom turned to lean against the wall so he could look his right-hand man in the eye. He raised an eyebrow as he took in clues over what he had escaped from in the common room. Hell, he was surprised Abraxas hadn't cleaned himself off before he came in search of him.

Abraxas Malfoy was normally perfection. If he wasn't perfect, then there was something wrong. That fact had been ingrained into the man since birth, and whenever he went out, every single hair was in place and heaven forbid there be wrinkles. Both of the items mentioned above, however, were present on the man. Immaculate hair was replaced with golden tangles, and the pristine uniform was replaced with a freshly sexed look.

It was actually a very amusing sight to see.

"Is that what they are doing? It looked to me as if they were all trying to dance whilst reproducing an entire civilization. You would think that the fools would know better than to act like muggles." How would Abraxas react? Not only had he insinuated that the man was being unfaithful to his fiancee, but he had also said that the man was acting like a muggle—a far worse insult than the previous statement. Tom really did love this game of wits. It was one of the reasons he had taken the blond under his reign.

"It is merely the effects of the wine." Abraxas chuckled and moved a hand to smooth out wrinkles and pull his hair away from his face. "Father sent it for the festivities."

Tom stared at the man for a few minutes, letting the tension build as the blond began to fidget under his gaze.

"Oh? And has my illustrious Inner Circle allowed themselves to be seen as anything less than their best?" He narrowed his eyes here, allowing some of his frustration to show. Abraxas flinched and then relaxed his features again. The blond shrugged and took another step forward, his hands meeting behind his back.

Ah, the Malfoy still had some of his wits left.

"Avery has decided to lose his shirt and trance about with Hornby; Crabbe and Goyle passed out after their second glass—clearly, they couldn't handle a little fruit; and Dolohov is sulking in a chair by the fire because my fiancee refused to sit on his lap for the third time this week." This was said with a lazy flick of a hand, eyes never straying from the man opposite of him. Tom let himself sink into the thoughts of the Malfoy, interest peaking slightly as he saw that, indeed, all of this was true.

"And you Abraxas?" He let his voice sharpen; the other Slytherin knew that he hated to be lied or manipulated. Would he let the alcohol tempt his mind? Or would he let the rational whispers of fear override the haze?

"M-me, my lord?" Abraxas stuttered and took a step back.

Time to go in for the kill.

"Your fiancee may have said no to sitting on Avery's lap, but that is merely because she is currently two hallways down and locked in a closet with Augusta Pierce."* Tom spread his hands wide, his wand limp in his hand. Immediately, Abraxas' gaze focused on the stick of wood.

"I-My Lord!" Abraxas fell to his knees, his head bowed and body shivering. He had felt the Cruciatus Curse before—the feeling of knives of fire and ice sliding through every single nerve in his body; the feeling of every bone in his body breaking, repairing, and breaking themselves again and again; the feeling of his skin peeling back from his muscles—and it was something that he never wanted to feel again.

"Have you been unfaithful to your wife-to-be? It's not that difficult of a question. I thought you were better than the simpletons like Crabbe and Goyle." Tom let a sigh pass through his lips and stalked forward, his wand still hanging limply from his fingers. "Come now, Abraxas. A simple yes or no will suffice."

"Yes."

Tom grinned as he moved his wrist in a lazy flick, the familiar motion pulling his wand back into its holster. Another step forward and he was in front of the blond. The boy was shivering, and his trembling caused the hair that had been pulled behind his shoulders to now drape across his face and onto the floor.

It looks like this minion passed.

"Let's join the celebrations, Abraxas." When Abraxas' head snapped up and he stared into Tom's eyes with a look of awe and relief, Tom smirked. This is why he tortured the weak on occasion, because when they looked up at him like that—when they showed him their inner conflicts—it made him feel as if he had won the world. He was the one in power—no longer weak, no longer at the bottom of the barrel and being shoved around like he was scum.

"Thank you, my Lord." Abraxas took the hand that was offered and slowly stood up, his thoughts still stuck on what could've happened. The blond glanced at the dark haired man as they walked back to the Slytherin Common Rooms. Why had he come looking for Tom in the first place? The more he thought about it, the more it didn't make sense. Maybe he should ask—after all, Tom knew everything, even if he didn't.

"My Lord?" A small hum was the only response he got as they took a right. "I was wondering if you've ever wondered why people do things without ever knowing why?" Abraxas quickly cut himself off there. He may be more—for lack of a better word—fuzzy than normal, but he could keep a hold of his mind whilst intoxicated.

"There are many reasons as to why one would do so, Abraxas; all of them having to deal with human emotions," Tom stated with an air of boredom as they stopped in front of a blank wall. Out of the corner of his eye, Abraxas saw a hand motion between him and the wall.

"After you, Abraxas. After all, this is your celebrations." Tom grimaced at the happy glance his servant gave him before turning to the door. "Be the Snake under the Flower."** A faint click was heard and then a seam appeared within the bricks. Within seconds there was a doorway, and after the two boys entered, there was no sound as it sealed shut once more. There was a moment of silence and then sound erupted from every corner of the room; senseless chatter filtered in and out of the random noise, and occasionally one could hear a moan fly through the air before a wolf whistle sounded. Couples lay scattered about the dark room—some in shadowed corners and others on couches.

When Tom saw it all, he stopped, turned to Abraxas, and simply raised an eyebrow. The blond shrugged, having the grace to look slightly embarrassed before walking further into the room.

"Tom! Walburga grab the wine. Our Lord looks as if he-hic-could use a drink!" Tom rose his other eyebrow as he turned to look at the man shouting from two feet away. Orion Black stood grinning like an idiot, his arms outstretched and his tie around his forehead. Walburga, his fiancee, was waddling towards them, her arms ladened with half empty bottles and silver chalices.

"Don't worry, my-hic-Lord! Tonight will be one of your fondest memories!"

Tom let amusement color his thoughts for a couple seconds. Orion was normally calm and collected, and yet here he was—all rumpled and throwing his arms about as he stumbled over to give his walrus of a fiance a kiss. Now the amusement was gone—replaced by an overwhelming feeling of disgust. "Orion, Walburga, I see you two are enjoying yourselves."

"Oh yes, my Lord! And I must say that it's all because of the wine!" Walburga giggled and then moved to stand in front of Orion so that she could lean her chest onto his back. Orion grunted as he braced himself and then they both set to work preparing him a drink.

"Merlin, that's a disturbing sight." Abraxas stated as he came forward from a side room, his hair now brushed and his clothes changed.

Tom sighed and raised a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. He was surrounded by idiots.

"Here you are, my Lord! The best cup filled with the best wine for-hic-the best man in the world!" Orion held the golden chalice out, the dark red wine inside sloshing up the sides as the man holding it stumbled.

Tom stared at it blankly for five seconds and then lashed out, his hand slapping the cup to the floor with a loud clang. The wine spread across the floor, the blood-like liquid drawing the gaze of everyone in the room as the cup rolled across the floor under a couch.

"W-was there something wro-hic-ong with it?" Orion asked like a disappointed child. His hands dangled by his side and his bottom lip quivered.

Tom raised his hand and slapped the man. When Orion simply stared at him in surprise, he slapped him again. The next time he slapped him, Orion was on his knees with his head bowed, sober.

"You are all fools—allowing a simple drink to cloud your minds and take over your actions. Avery, Black, Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, Dolohov, stay. The rest of you go to bed. This party is over." Immediately, Tom's orders were obeyed. Tom strode to the center of the room—the calm face that he had kept on as a mask gone. In its place was the cold face of Lord Voldemort.

"What were my orders to you tonight?" Tom kept his back to the fireplace, the flickering light cradling his form and keeping his face in shadow. His Inner Circle all kneeled before him, heads bowed and bodies trembling. "Well?"

"W-we were to keep the peace and not allow anything to get out of h-hand." Crabbe spoke up, his eyes focused on the Dark Lord's knees.

"And did you?" Tom drew his wand. Should he take pity on Abraxas and Crabbe? After all, they were the ones who answered his questions. Showing mercy to those who somewhat obeyed would only cause those who failed to want to succeed even more. Except, they didn't actually succeed did they? No, they merely showed that they weren't completely stupid.

"No, my Lord."

Tom nodded and waved his wand. "Silencio." All six kneeling forms froze for a fraction of a second before beginning to shake. A cruel smile spread its way across Tom's face. This was why he had spoken the charm aloud—to inspire the first stroke of fear.

"Not only did all of you fail to keep the peace here, but you also participated in the mayhem." Tom spoke softly as he conjured an armchair to sit in. Once he was seated comfortably, he raised his wand with a satisfied smile. It was time for him to join in the festivities.

"Abraxas, step forward."


*Augusta Pierce is the maiden name for Augusta Longbottom. She doesn't have a canon maiden name so I preceded to make one up!

**"Be the snake under the flower." This is a reference to William Shakespeare's play, Macbeth. Lady Macbeth actually says: "Your hand, your tongue: look like the innocent flower, but be the serpent under't."