I love gangsters. I've got a gangster hat and wear it nearly every chance I can. Anyway - !
This is mostly AU. Okay, whom I kiddin'? This is 99.99% AU. That .o1% is the one the Germ-X doesn't kill.
Tom smiled darkly down at the two as his "family" threw them on the warehouse floor. He was tall, pale with dark hair that struck out, definitely handsome. He'd been caught in the middle of doing papers, his white button-up shirt rolled up to his sleeves, putting his hands casually into the dark grey trousers.
The first was a boy, perhaps two years younger than him, which would make him seventeen. He had black hair that refused to cooperate, round-rimmed glasses that held flashing green eyes. The scar above his right eyebrow was shaped like a lightning bolt, and was so familiar to Tom, as he was the one who gave it to him. He was kneeling, his hands tied behind his back with the barrel of a revolver aimed at the back of his head, and was glaring at Tom.
The next had their head lowered, a grey fedora on top of their head, the shadows from the setting sun hiding their face. They had on a white button up shirt, grey slacks and a broad shouldered grey jacket that was buttoned up, their hands tied behind their back as well, another revolver at their head.
Tom lowered himself to crouch down in front of the first boy, grinning, "Well, if it's not Scarhead Potter. Been down to the docks recently?"
After a few ticking seconds of silence, Potter gritted out, "No."
"Oh, such a shame," Tom was grinning wider, "We'll have to take you down soon then." He stood, sneering down at Potter before turning to the other figure. Just as he was about to look and see who this was, the head of their family walked in, the loud 'bang!' from the door making them jump.
"Don't you dare touch them, Tom!" Sam ordered, his graying brown hair being hastily smoothed down as he walked purposefully towards them. Potter looked at him questioningly, but Sam stopped in front of the other figure. He stared at them before finally pushing the hat off, letting a mass of brown curls tumble down around the shoulders. He took two fingers, using them to tip their – her – chin up to face him. She opened her eyes, leaving Tom to find the deepest color of brown he'd ever seen.
Sam smiled at her, "What are you doing, young lady?"
"Not much," she admitted, a little bit sheepishly, making Sam laugh and wave off the gunmen, reaching over to un-tie her bonds.
"Your mother is going to kill you," Sam chuckled, helping her stand up as she un-buttoned the large jacket, handing it to Potter, who was looking confused at the two. "Out in men's clothing."
"It was either this or have my skirt fly up my behind every time I ran from one of your boys," she smiled at him.
"Well if you'd said 'stop! I'm Sam's girl!' they might not've shot at you," he grinned before placing a peck to her temple, making Tom and Potter gape at the two.
"What fun would that've been?" she laughed before hugging Sam tightly, "I missed you, Daddy."
"Daddy?" Potter and Tom repeated with gaping mouths.
"'Course," he smirked at the two, "Didn't you know I had a daughter?"
Tom's eyes practically flew out of his head, "Hermione? But – but the picture in your office – it, it's of a little girl and she's – well – not."
"Yeah – it's been a while since we've gotten her to sit still and have her photograph taken," Sam scratched his neck, before shrugging, putting his arm around his daughter's shoulders. "You hungry, Doll? Your mother is going to kill you."
"I figured," she shrugged, walking with him, "How is Mummy?"
"Oh fine, fine," he waved a hand dismissively. "She got her haired dyed the other day – it's rather shiny."
"Ooh," she said appreciatively, walking back into his office, leaving Tom and Potter to stand there.
Tom rushed up to the young woman's side, frowning down at her as she blinked and looked up at him.
"Ah – Tommy Boy, right?" she asked, grinning. Her hair was spilling down her back, a silver clip holding her bangs back. She had on a dress where the upper half was black and long sleeved, the lower half a dark blue plaid.
"Tom," he corrected. "What was all of that yesterday?"
"All of what?" she asked, arching an eyebrow at him.
He groaned and looked around before grabbing her wrist and tugging her into the alley. "All of that – being you spontaneously becoming Sam's daughter."
"I doubt it was spontaneous," she rolled her eyes at him, "After all, it does take nine months to have a baby."
"Granger," he growled, making her laugh.
"Alright, alright – I was practicing. Daddy has always wanted a boy, but after me, Mummy couldn't have any more kids. So, I got together a little group – me, Harry, Ron, Ginny and the twins – and we were trying to take out those little people who follow you – the Death Eaters, I think – but I didn't realize that Daddy ran that."
"You didn't know which mob your father ran?" he asked incredulously.
"Well it's not like he ever brought his work home with him," she snorted and rolled her eyes.
Tom sighed and rolled his own eyes, "Look, Granger – "
"Hermione," she corrected, "Please don't call me Granger. It's what my friends call me."
"Friends?" he repeated with an eyebrow arched.
"Well I can't call them my family yet," she rolled her eyes, "And, really, Ron, Ginny and the twins are all related."
"Ginny?" he frowned at her, "Some nickname."
"It's short for Ginevra – she hates her name."
"She?"
"Yes – oh, don't give me that look – if I can be a mobster, so can she," she snorted, "Sexist pig."
"I am not – I just think that girls shouldn't go around shooting guys. Actually, that'd probably be more embarrassing."
"That's what we thought," she grinned. "Anyway, what were you saying?"
"About what?"
"The 'look, Granger' that I cut off?"
"Oh – Look, Hermione – your father talked about you non-stop before he knew what you were up to. He didn't really care what gender you were."
"But – " she faltered.
"Your father loves you," he said with a slight smile before realizing what he was doing, "It's more than I can say for me."
"Your father can't hate you," Hermione scoffed.
"Oh? Then why'd he leave me and my mother?" he said flatly, "She died after she had me and left me at the orphanage with his stupid name."
"Tom?"
"Tom Riddle – junior," he growled, "I hate my name so much."
"Then change it," she shrugged.
"To what?"
"I don't know," she rolled her eyes, "Figure it out for yourself."
"I'm not very creative."
"Fine – Moldywart."
"Moldywart?" he repeated incredulously as she giggled.
"Well – you're rather – " she giggled again, "And just – " another giggle, "Oh, you know!" She looked at him with a grin before opening her mouth to say his new name again. He quickly slapped his hand over it as she began to say it. She muffled out 'Voldemort.'
They arched eyebrows at each other.
"That actually sounds okay," he noticed, making her nod underneath his hand. "Voldemort."
"The Dork Lord," she muffled, making him shoot her a glare as she grinned behind his hand.
"You're a cheeky little thing, you know that?" he said, pulling his hand back, "Oh, how I'd love to shoot you."
"You did yesterday – or tried, anyway – what's stopping you now?" she asked with another grin.
"You're a girl, my boss's daughter, and the thing on your head might kill me," he smirked as she glared, tugging at her hair.
"Well you're a – just a – " she growled upon finding out that she had nothing to call him. "I hate you," she settled.
"No you don't," he grinned cheekily, giving a tug on her curls, "You wouldn't know what to do without me, Love."
She snorted, rolling her eyes and shooing his hand away, "Throw a party, perhaps?"
"Doubt it," he smirked as he began to walk away from her. "Bye, Hermione."
She smirked back as he turned around, "G'bye, Tom."
She heard him sigh as he walked away, leaving him to hear her laugh before she went the other way.