I own nothing but the plot of this. Everything else belongs to the master herself J.K Rowling.
The Dark Lord leaned back in his throne like chair before the fireplace in the run down Riddle house, grimacing at what surrounded him in comparison to the opulence that it once had held – and which he had every right to inherit had not his miserable father cast off his miserable mother who had then cast off him. He imagined what this place could have been like, what he could had done, had he been even given the chance. He would show them. Change the natural order of this world to the way it ought to be, and put those superstitious condemning muggles in their places. They were all the same after all, he could see that in the eyes of the woman who had run the orphanage he had grown up in, the terror that came with the knowledge of his power without even truly knowing what he was. What it was. He knew that was in his father as well, why else cast off a witch of such noble ancestry as to be an Heiress of Slytherin and not want his own son the true heir of that noble lineage? The muggle world hated and despised everything they could not understand. So they should not be allowed to possess this power. He would not allow it, take it back from them with force if and where necessary.
Leisurely he stroked Naginii as his thoughts were interrupted, new feelings stirring in the pit of his stomach. This was nothing new, not anymore, and as of late they had become more and more frequent. Cautiously he opened his mind, allowing himself to feel everything a certain young Mr. Potter was feeling at the moment, a sly smile cutting through pale features. Ahh yes, it seems Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy were at it again. He was careful to ensure during these little trysts that Harry was unaware of the peeping tom who stowed away inside his very mind, ensuring that any pain lost by the heightening of their own personal connections was lost in the ecstasy of every touch the two boys were sharing to feel that telltale twinge of his scar reacting. A smile again stretched his wax features to their brink as he heard them moving about the prefect's bathroom, never noticing the objecting cries of Moaning Myrtle or even when her shrill cries ended in approval, even egging them on in turns as clothing smacked against the cold damp tiles as it fell from eager bodies.
Little did Harry know that the only reason he lived so long was Draco. The Dark Lord had seen such potential in the blonde boy, so much fire, so much honor just waiting to be twisted, as well as a pedigree that left little to be desired that he longed to make the boy his own. To warp him in that same special way he had Bellatrix Lestrange, his own aunt. He laughed for a moment, the sound hoarse and cruel, as he remembered the innocent little pureblood angel she had once been. All doe eyes and dark curls, a diamond waiting to be chipped away into the perfect piece – his right hand woman and a play thing he still got great pleasure in using and abusing. In Draco he could see much the same qualities, already he was shaping the boy. These little trysts with Potter did not make the Dark Lord any more of a patient man. It only increased his need and haste to add the boy to his side. Beginning with impossible tasks to break him, to shatter an innocent soul and twist him into pain becoming pleasure. Murder leading to lust. Sacredness in nothing outside of the Dark Lord's word. Loyalty to his family, that traitorous bunch who not only cast their lord aside in his time of need but gave no second thoughts to throwing their own boy in to save their own precious skins (bad as muggles the lot of them).
Sounds from the boys reached his ears as he stroked Naginii all the faster, yes this boy would be his. All his, he refused to share his toys. Then finally he could get rid of that brat who dared to destroy him, to foil his plans, and to not only touch but to possess the heart of a boy he had claimed as his own. Even the mark on Draco's arm had only driven both into each other's arms all the farther as they could feel their time was short, almost up, and indeed it was. Even now the only reason Potter was alive was that he was the only tie to Draco he had. The only way to feel those long youthful fingers dragging along skin that was not even his but that he never the less could feel just as clearly.
"Soon Naginii, soon."
….
Part 1/? Will there be more? :P
Hope you enjoyed it! I had a great time writing it and hope there will be more to come! Thanks!
Joy