SPOILERS BOOKS 1-7!!!
Author's Note: For purposes entirely my own, I have altered a few things from the plot to fit my needs. One is when Voldemort finds out about the elder wand. There are probably other things, but I can't remember at the moment.
Overview: The Peter Pan Syndrome is a theory developed by Dr. Kiley, which describes adults (usually males) who "never grew up". These people have characteristics of children, which include narcissism, possession, dependency and the belief that they are above everyone and all rules. I hope you'll be able to recognize where I'm going with this as the story progresses.
One other thing, for those of you who don't know, on November 5, 1605, Guy Fawkes (a British soldier after which Jo named Dumbledore's pheonix) attempted to blow up the House of Parliament, a plan known as the Gunpowder Plot. He was attempting to reform the government. Voldemort will allude this near the beginning.
Dedications: Turtle! She kinda convinced me to get a account...Also, to anyone who reviews and/or rates!!!
Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters. If I did, most of them would still be alive, and Draco would be Turtle's (because I'm generous to my lovely beta).
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Chapter One: Concieted
"Get Severus." Voldemort hissed to the crouching, flinching figure in front of him as he appeared in the Malfoy Manor. After a pause, he added, "And Narcissa."
Voldemort watched Pettigrew bow out of the room, and turned his mind back to what had just happened. He got away again, and he still thinks that he's the one who's bested me. Voldemort felt like he was the only one to have realized that Harry had no special talents. Every single time Potter had beat him, it was through someone else's accomplishments, or dumb (very dumb indeed) luck.
First, it was Lily. Damn bitch had started the whole mess. After Voldemort had finally found that loser, Quirrel, it was Lily screwing his plans up yet again, though Dumbledore hadn't helped either. In Harry's second year it was once again Dumbledore's insolent meddling. The boy had even screwed up third year, allowing Pettigrew to return as his most devoted servant (which, in reality, was a rather low standard). Harry's fourth and fifth years had also been rescued by Dumbledore. Voldemort was sure that his latest attack would succeed, since the oaf was planned to die. Even so, Potter got off.
He slammed his fist down on the dining table, and turned around, sensing that Severus and Narcissa had entered the room. Severus glanced nervously to Narcissa. Though he was probably considered too cold-hearted to notice, Voldemort knew perfectly well of what Severus had vowed to Narcissa.
"Narcissa," Voldemort decided to address her first. "Your boy is weak."
"Yes, Dark Lord."
"I will let you talk to him. I wouldn't want to put him off any more. He will listen to his mother." Narcissa was a favorite, to say, of Voldemort's, and he knew that her son was precious to her. The boy was weak; he couldn't see why. She and Severus were the only two death eaters he thought of on a first-name basis.
"Severus, thank you." Voldemort examined his hand idly. "With Dumbledore out of the way, I can kill the boy, and we can continue the removal of the mudbloods and blood traitors by November." Here, he turned to face his servants. "November fifth seems appropriate, doesn't it?"
"Ironic, to say the least," Severus pursed his lips. Of course, Voldemort knew about his true loyalties. They had come in the way a few times, but he couldn't see any way it would ruin his plans now. It just showed how weak Severus was.
"Hmm..." Voldemort looked at the chandelier musingly. "You're dismissed, Severus."
Severus bowed his head, and walked out of the room. Voldemort watched him go, and turned back to Narcissa.
"Where does Draco get his qualms of killing the worthless?" Voldemort sat down at the table. Narcissa remained standing in the doorway. "His father has served me well, and had participated in some of my largest exterminations. You are also devoted, but you shelter him."
Narcissa could tell from this that her lord knew about the unbreakable vow. "He is my son. I won't have you ruin him. He is too young to make these decisions, and if he chooses to kill when he is older, then I will support him. But now?" she shook her head. "Let him grow up before he decides who lives or dies."
"It does not matter if these people die, Narcissa." Voldemort stood up. "As for his age, he is nearly seventeen. He will be an adult soon, and he will be a citizen. He has no need to live with that filth mucking up the streets. He will be rid of it, and by his own hand."
"What does it matter now? Dumbledore is dead. Does it matter who removed him?"
"You need to let go of him. He is too weak."
"Weak by what standards?"
Voldemort pounded his fist on the table. "You have crossed the line, Narcissa! From now on, Draco will study under his father. They will both report to me daily. I will not have him be my downfall!"
Narcissa flinched, and looked away. "Yes, Dark Lord."
"Fetch him here."
Not able to say anything else, out of pure hatred, Narcissa merely turned and left.
She cares for him far too much. She is pathetic also. Voldemort's good mood was ruined. How could someone fail him so much?
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Voldemort entered the Manor late two nights later, after a visit to Azkaban. He was very pleased with the outing; it had yielded helpful results. After the elder wand, he had paid a visit to its last known owner, in Azkaban.
Gellet Grindelwald really was a fool. He lost the wand so easily, and to that oaf, Dumbledore, nonetheless. Well, all the better for Voldemort. Now he could pry it directly from his cold, dead hands.
Voldemort walked slowly up the stairs to the room he used to think, where the din of everyone couldn't quite reach.
Voldemort frowned. Speaking of din...Voldemort heard a ruckus coming from the young Malfoy's room.
"He's damn right, you foolish boy!" That was Lucius's voice. "You and your mother both. I should have known she was bad blood."
"D-don't say that about mum." Voldemort's face turned sour at the sound of the boy's voice, but grinned as he heard Lucius's cane connect with flesh.
"That little bitch doesn't know what she's teaching you! Come with me now, we're going on a walk." Lucius opened the door, and stopped as he saw Voldemort standing there and smirking.
"Dark Lord," he bowed deeply. "May I speak with you?"
Voldemort continued smirking as the two walked down the hall to Voldemort's "study".
"I would like to take that boy out tonight," Lucius paced maliciously. "He needs experience in...certain matters."
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"Severus," Voldemort addressed the figure sitting to his left. All around the table, Death Eaters shifted, jealous (or pitiful) of Severus's close position to the Dark Lord. "Since your noble, if not completely thoughtless, display of loyalty to me at the castle, we no longer have an informant."
"Is that really important now, my lord?" Severus grimaced behind his mask, and braced for the worst. "What knowledge will we need from the castle now? It is doubtful that the boy will be returning next year, after all of this."
"Oh, so you know where and when Dumbledore will be buried with the wand?" Voldemort smiled eerily, and glanced around the table. "The rest of you know too, then?" He turned back to Severus. "When, where?"
Severus bowed his head. "No, my lord."
Voldemort looked down his nose at the table of Death Eaters. "No...no, I didn't think so..."
A movement a few chairs down on Voldemort's left caught his eye. Lucius wanted to say something. "What is it, Malfoy?"
"Draco will be going back to Hogwarts next year. He can spy. No, he would be delighted to spy."
"Of course he would be," Voldemort smiled, and even his most devoted followers cringed as he did so. The smile was a malicious thing. "And of course he will. There, Lucius. I knew you would be good for the boy."
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"My lord," Narcissa entered the room after the Death Eater meeting was over, and everyone was leaving. Though she had never actually become a Death Eater, Voldemort allowed her to listen to the meetings from outside the room. "Please don't do this to Draco. I don't want my son to be a Death Eater."
"He will follow in his father's footsteps."
"And what about my footsteps? He is my son too."
Voldemort pinned Narcissa to the wall with his wand. "And in a week, when he's officially my spy, he will be entirely mine."