Title: Male-Order Bride
Author: Ayakaishi Fei
E-mail: Ken_Dai_Love@hotmail.com
Rating: R
Category: Humour. Romance. "Horror".
Warnings: Slash. Language.
Pairings: Draco Malfoy x Tom Riddle
Summary: All his life Draco Malfoy has been groomed to be Lord Voldemort's consort. Problem? Draco refuses to whore himself out to anybody, and he'll do anything to stop himself from being 'Lord Mouldywarts' slut, especially after the charming Tom Riddle offers to help him escape his destiny... for a price. SLASH.
Disclaimer: Have you noticed how everybody is conveniently gay in slash fanfiction (much like queer as folk)? From this you can deduce I'm either a scheming slash fangirl, or the director of queer as folk. I don't own - JK Rowling and Co have nothing to do with me. I just play with them.
Chapter One: So Basically I'm a High-class Prostitute
Draco Malfoy, heir to the Malfoy estates, had many fine qualities; he had been groomed for a position of authority, to achieve greatness for his family, and for himself. He was charming, when the situation called for charm, intelligent, although his wit was scathing, and beautiful, a rare trait in a male, and not a trait Draco particularly appreciated. It was not that he wished to look ugly, Gods forbid; he just recognised that being beautiful was not the most masculine thing to be. He could, perhaps, have handled the slight to his masculinity, had his parents not betrothed him to a man well over twice his age: Lord Voldemort, the Dark Lord himself.
His parents had not kept his betrothal a secret per se, they just hadn't mentioned that it was Lord Voldemort who would be marrying the young blond Malfoy heir. He'd always assumed that his parents would arrange a marriage with a young pureblood girl of good standing: to cement good relations between their families. He'd assumed that he would continue to reside, as master, on his family's ancestral property. He'd assumed that he would grow up to be even more of a man than his father - powerful, handsome, charming and well, the *man* in the relationship. He'd assumed a lot of things.
He had *not* expected, on the eve of his 16th birthday, that his mother would sweetly inform him that he was engaged to none other than Lord Voldemort - the hideously ugly, supremely powerful, rotting corpse who commanded his parents loyalty. Engaged like a bloody trophy *wife*.
His father had informed him that he was far from a trophy wife, and that he would be expected to use his intelligence, and skills in the bedchamber to please his future husband. Draco, needless to say, had not been pleased, and after his outburst he'd been sent to his room until he was ready to behave like a Malfoy, and appreciate the effort his father had made to secure his well-being.
Sullenly, Draco paced the length of his room, furiously considering all possible routes of escape, desperate for any viable solution. He caught sight of his reflection in his mirror; a whip-cord thin figure with naturally pale delicate skin and perfectly styled platinum blond hair - perhaps a touch too long to be practical - stared back at him. Flint grey eyes (which he'd noticed reflected silver at inopportune times), hard as stone were set in a finely boned face and he had the most perfect ass (currently clad in a tiny pair of denim bum pants) that he'd ever seen on any person - male or female. It was no wonder the Dark Lord wanted to marry him, he decided. Nevertheless he was not going to just... *submit* to the snake, like a helpless woman. There had to be something he could do to escape his fate.
When he caught himself considering the possibility of apparating to Harry Potter's muggle abode to beg for his assistance in avoiding the reach of Lord Voldemort's henchmen, however, he realised he was beyond desperate. His eyes turned to the pile of wizard gold he had spread over his magnificent oak escritoire and a sudden, and very obvious thought struck him: He could run away.
He pulled his travelling suitcases out from his robe, opting to use the least conspicuous luggage, and hastily stuffed the cases with clothes, his wand, and his most precious and valuable possessions, before gathering what remained of his fortune and stuffing it into a bag and then into his suitcase.
After snagging a clean black t-shirt and a floor length dragon-hide jacket his father had never approved of, he stomped his feet in his expensive dragon hide boots, clipping them up with an expertise that spoke of much practise. With equal ease, he then clambered out of his window and onto the leafy branch conveniently situated outside his window, taking his suitcases with him and shimmied down with a triumphant smirk. If all turned out according to plan he would avenge the slight to his masculinity, escape an unwanted betrothal, and lose his virginity to someone who wasn't his fiancee or an ugly half snake-half man with glowing red eyes. But most importantly he would hopefully prove to the rest of the world (including his parents) that as a Malfoy he could not be manipulated into marriage or at least not marriage with someone unattractive.
~~~
"Where, exactly, is my fiancee Lucius?" Lord Voldemort, master of the Death Eaters and all-around bad guy, coldly demanded of his subordinate.
Lucius smiled with a slick disarming charm, "My Lord, why don't you have a drink? Some food? Surely we can offer you something-"
"You can bring me my *bride* Lucius. I start to grow irritated by your recalcitrance. Where is my Draco-bunny?"
Lucius cringed, "I... he went out for a short breath of fresh air - something about wanting to look his best when you arrived. You know how the hopelessly infatuated can-"
Voldemort cut him off, "You may be a Death Eater Malfoy, but you are a *very* bad liar."
"M-my Lord - I swear, your consort would not dream of defying your-"
"Silence Lucius. I see I shall have to handle this matter without your bumbling incompetence. If one wants something done, one must do it oneself. I will woo my beautiful bed-warmer to ensure that he will one day rule at my side, but if you have ruined my chances at winning your fallen angels affection, there will be hell to pay Lucius, I assure you."
"Of course My Lord. I wish you the best of luck when you woo my stubborn son." Lucius performed a deep obeisance and rose only when the loud sound of a whip crack indicated that the Dark Lord had apparated off of Malfoy grounds. His eyes narrowed as Narcissa appeared from where she'd waited outside the doorway - her whelp would pay if he displeased the Dark Lord in any way, and he would suffer for the disgrace he had been to the noble house of the Malfoy family.
~~~
Flinty grey eyes surveyed the nightclub, which stood on the corner of Knockturn Alley and Blackmoon Court, apathetically, unimpressed with the crumbling stone building. Sneering, Draco joined the long winding line of young wizards and witches waiting outside the tall oak doors while the buff wand-wielding bouncers of the "Magic Cane" inspected those who wished to enter.
He fit in rather well with the group of teens who chatted as they awaited their turn to be admitted to the club. The young women, equipped with either forged or authentic magical ID's and dressed in see-through robes, thigh high dragon-hide boots - similar to his, or beaded or pleather skirts, and low cut shirts chattered amongst themselves as they waited. More than a few wore glamours which changed their hair colour every few seconds, creating a kaleidoscope of colours, and Draco was willing to bet that well over half of them had consumed various potions to change certain aspects of their appearance for the night. Equally lurid, in Draco's opinion, were the young wizards whose clothes ranged from neat and upper- class to trashier and sluttier than Draco's own. Many of them wore dragonhide - like the girls, while others paraded in glittering robes, or fine shirts made of woven pixie wings, enchanted to shine iridescently under the magical lights of the club. Then of the course there were those who, aside from glamours to protect their modesty were all but naked.
He was in the belly of the magical underworld now, deeply enmeshed with various other young dark wizards or witches. He recognised a handful of those waiting in the line as "daring" young students looking for adventure during their school vacation. It didn't impress him in the slightest - Gryffindor's, or their equivalent, the type who got a kick out of playing with fire.
Draco found himself holding a listless conversation with the young woman in front of him, while he waited. She was attractive enough, he supposed, and she claimed to be 19, a statement her magical ID authenticated, but Draco judged her to be 16 or 17 at the most. When she spoke it was mostly in French and she introduced herself to him as Cecilia, a former Beuxbatons student, however Draco noticed her attention was more on the blue haired witch in front of her than on him.
Her slim form was clad in a long black lace skirt, which fell gracefully to the ground and almost hid her high-heeled boots from sight. Her long chocolatey hair fell over her shoulders, and he could see shimmers of silver and green when the light hit her. It took him a few seconds to realise that it was her hair, which was sparkling, and not a top. She wore no shirt: her hair was charmed to fall around her chest and protect her naked breasts.
Her conversation was intelligent and her smirk was predatory when she addressed him. "So what am I supposed to call you, sugar?"
Draco paused, having not considered the issue of his name. He certainly couldn't say Draco Malfoy, not if he was running away, he needed something mysterious, charming, but at the same time dangerous. He smirked, "You can call me Lestat."
Cecilia let out a tinkling laugh, like a thousand bells chiming simultaneously, "Like the vampire in the muggle books?"
"Quite," Draco agreed, raising an eyebrow, surprised, he'd read the book - stolen it off one of the mudbloods he taunted at Hogwarts, but he hadn't expected the girl to get the reference, however, he was pleased that he didn't have to explain it.
"Hm, I have an idea..." The girl swept her hand upwards, seemingly pulling her wand from thin air, "How do you feel about 'fake' fangs, Lestat?"
"No objections, as long as you don't turn me into a vampire. I'm running away from the Dark Lord, I don't want him to have any say over my allegiances."
The blue-haired girl in front of Cecilia turned around at this, bearing fangs of her own, "We're not really vampires, it's just fun to pretend. We were looking for a male "vampire" to join our coven. I'm Merrick."
Cecilia laughed again, and with a whispered sound and a twitch of her wand Draco felt his canines grow slightly longer and pointier. It felt... different.
Merrick smirked at him and with a grin cast her own spell, "Another temporary glamour - we thought you'd look more like Lestat with violet eyes, love."
Draco leered, his fangs glinting in the pale light as he offered an arm to each of the girls, "Well then my pets, looks like we're almost at the head of the line now."
Both girls leered back as they accepted the proffered arms.
~~~
"You can't escape from me that easily love," Voldemort purred, spotting his fiancee dancing beneath the flickering blue lights of the club. He took a moment to pause and observe the lithe blond teen as he thrust his body to the beat of the music, his hips rolling, noting, absently, how Draco's pert perfect ass seemed to invite ravishment.
He made his way to the boy effortlessly, the crowds parting before his grotesque visage like the Red Sea before Moses. He scowled at the two girls who seemed to flank his future lover, their feminine nudity irritating him, but then Draco's gaze seemed to meet his, and Voldemort smiled in his most winning manner, "Are you ready to go home, my pet? I thought perhaps we could discuss our upcoming wedding?"
Draco froze, his fangs flashing as he grimaced, "Get fucked. I'm not marrying you, and you can't make me."
"Oh but I can sweetling, you forget, I know how to cast Imperious - I am the Dark Lord, after all. I own this club. I own your parents. I own you, love."
Draco tilted his head, and smiled with all the charm he could muster. "Screw. You."
"You don't mean that," Voldemort purred, pulling the boys hips closer to his.
"You're an ugly snake, I wouldn't marry you if you were the last man on Earth. I'd rather fuck Harry Potter!"
"Ugly? I should have guessed a lovely, materialistic boy like you would not be able to see my inner beauty..."
"Fuck inner beauty, I'm not losing my virginity to anyone who isn't at least my equal in attractiveness."
"Draco-bunny, I will give you your wish, I will make myself attractive for you." Voldemort's long bony fingers dug generously into Draco's perfect butt cheeks.
Draco's eyes widened, "Rape! I'm being raped! By an old, ugly man!"
Voldemort pulled away as the rest of the room turned to look at them, and chuckled maliciously, "I'll find you again, love. You have my word."
"And I'll keep running until you leave me alone. I won't marry you." Draco vowed.
"Yes you will." Voldemort assured him.
He didn't look back as he made his way out of the club, and by the time he reached the exit, Draco's prospective suitor had a new plan to woo the stubborn blond, and he knew exactly how he would execute it. He remembered reading about a very potent (albeit highly illegal) permanent youth restoration potion, and by creating and using it he would prove that he was willing to go to any lengths to win the hand of his Draco-bunny.
~~~
Voldemort, Lord and Master of all he surveyed, paused as his snivelling servant scurried into the room, an anvil held in his hand, and the head of a bawling infant directly beneath the heavy metal hammer, "What is it?"
"As you ordered, Master, we've retrieved the reproductive organs of the Nundu you killed earlier this week." Wormtail bowed deeply, trying to avoid looking at his master.
"Good. Now-" Voldemort returned to the task at hand, raising the hammer once more, preparing to bring it down on the baby's blotched red face.
"Where did you manage to find the child, My Lord?"
Voldemort stopped again, "It's one of Goyle's numerous offspring. I commanded him to give it to me. Now if you don't mind-?"
Wormtail fell into a quivering mass on the floor at the sound of his Master's unpleasant tone. Voldemort brought the hammer down on the squalling child's head with a sickening thud. "Now, where is my unicorn? Wormtail..."
Wormtail scuttled out of the room and returned with a perfectly white, placid looking unicorn. Voldemort's long sallow face brightened, as he picked up the crushed skull and brains and dropped them into a cauldron simmering over the fire in the centre of the room.
"Now, Wormtail: put my Nundu testes into the cauldron. The eyes of the Antipodean Opaleye are already simmering in the sludge with my baby brain."
Wormtail, looking revolted, did as his Master commanded, even as the slithering snake Lord thrust a slender dagger into the breast of the unicorn Wormtail had led into the room. He cracked the ribs of the beast open, and tore out the still beating heart, dropping it into the cauldron along with a hair he had been preserving for this very purpose, a hair he had pulled out of his own head when he was just 17 years old.
It only took the mixture a few moments to come to the boil, turning a deep iridescent purple, and Voldemort chuckled darkly as it did. Dipping a cup made of fine oak into the mixture he drew out a cupful, and bought it to his lips, his red eyes alight with success.
Wormtail watched as the most evil and powerful man in the universe swallowed the vile mixture and promptly collapsed; his body convulsing. He watched, transfixed, as slowly, painfully, Voldemort's body began to change, until lying on the floor where Voldemort had been there now lay an attractive, yet strangely familiar young man. Tom Riddle sat up and laughed,
"You will be mine yet, Draco Malfoy. And you will like being mine, I assure you."
End Chapter One.
Authors Notes: I've never read a Draco/Tom fic before, but I decided the idea was too good to pass up. I haven't really written much (read: anything) in the HP fandom, but this was inspired by some of the brilliant pieces I've read recently. Most notably Delicious As Sin, a brilliantly written dark slashy fic which contained nearly all of my favourite pairings, and managed to be very sensual and yet angsty and real at the same time. And Ron died. If this fic is even half as good as that I will die a happy woman. Completed this chapter at 12:58AM.
Thanks for taking the time to read this - please review?
Author: Ayakaishi Fei
E-mail: Ken_Dai_Love@hotmail.com
Rating: R
Category: Humour. Romance. "Horror".
Warnings: Slash. Language.
Pairings: Draco Malfoy x Tom Riddle
Summary: All his life Draco Malfoy has been groomed to be Lord Voldemort's consort. Problem? Draco refuses to whore himself out to anybody, and he'll do anything to stop himself from being 'Lord Mouldywarts' slut, especially after the charming Tom Riddle offers to help him escape his destiny... for a price. SLASH.
Disclaimer: Have you noticed how everybody is conveniently gay in slash fanfiction (much like queer as folk)? From this you can deduce I'm either a scheming slash fangirl, or the director of queer as folk. I don't own - JK Rowling and Co have nothing to do with me. I just play with them.
Chapter One: So Basically I'm a High-class Prostitute
Draco Malfoy, heir to the Malfoy estates, had many fine qualities; he had been groomed for a position of authority, to achieve greatness for his family, and for himself. He was charming, when the situation called for charm, intelligent, although his wit was scathing, and beautiful, a rare trait in a male, and not a trait Draco particularly appreciated. It was not that he wished to look ugly, Gods forbid; he just recognised that being beautiful was not the most masculine thing to be. He could, perhaps, have handled the slight to his masculinity, had his parents not betrothed him to a man well over twice his age: Lord Voldemort, the Dark Lord himself.
His parents had not kept his betrothal a secret per se, they just hadn't mentioned that it was Lord Voldemort who would be marrying the young blond Malfoy heir. He'd always assumed that his parents would arrange a marriage with a young pureblood girl of good standing: to cement good relations between their families. He'd assumed that he would continue to reside, as master, on his family's ancestral property. He'd assumed that he would grow up to be even more of a man than his father - powerful, handsome, charming and well, the *man* in the relationship. He'd assumed a lot of things.
He had *not* expected, on the eve of his 16th birthday, that his mother would sweetly inform him that he was engaged to none other than Lord Voldemort - the hideously ugly, supremely powerful, rotting corpse who commanded his parents loyalty. Engaged like a bloody trophy *wife*.
His father had informed him that he was far from a trophy wife, and that he would be expected to use his intelligence, and skills in the bedchamber to please his future husband. Draco, needless to say, had not been pleased, and after his outburst he'd been sent to his room until he was ready to behave like a Malfoy, and appreciate the effort his father had made to secure his well-being.
Sullenly, Draco paced the length of his room, furiously considering all possible routes of escape, desperate for any viable solution. He caught sight of his reflection in his mirror; a whip-cord thin figure with naturally pale delicate skin and perfectly styled platinum blond hair - perhaps a touch too long to be practical - stared back at him. Flint grey eyes (which he'd noticed reflected silver at inopportune times), hard as stone were set in a finely boned face and he had the most perfect ass (currently clad in a tiny pair of denim bum pants) that he'd ever seen on any person - male or female. It was no wonder the Dark Lord wanted to marry him, he decided. Nevertheless he was not going to just... *submit* to the snake, like a helpless woman. There had to be something he could do to escape his fate.
When he caught himself considering the possibility of apparating to Harry Potter's muggle abode to beg for his assistance in avoiding the reach of Lord Voldemort's henchmen, however, he realised he was beyond desperate. His eyes turned to the pile of wizard gold he had spread over his magnificent oak escritoire and a sudden, and very obvious thought struck him: He could run away.
He pulled his travelling suitcases out from his robe, opting to use the least conspicuous luggage, and hastily stuffed the cases with clothes, his wand, and his most precious and valuable possessions, before gathering what remained of his fortune and stuffing it into a bag and then into his suitcase.
After snagging a clean black t-shirt and a floor length dragon-hide jacket his father had never approved of, he stomped his feet in his expensive dragon hide boots, clipping them up with an expertise that spoke of much practise. With equal ease, he then clambered out of his window and onto the leafy branch conveniently situated outside his window, taking his suitcases with him and shimmied down with a triumphant smirk. If all turned out according to plan he would avenge the slight to his masculinity, escape an unwanted betrothal, and lose his virginity to someone who wasn't his fiancee or an ugly half snake-half man with glowing red eyes. But most importantly he would hopefully prove to the rest of the world (including his parents) that as a Malfoy he could not be manipulated into marriage or at least not marriage with someone unattractive.
~~~
"Where, exactly, is my fiancee Lucius?" Lord Voldemort, master of the Death Eaters and all-around bad guy, coldly demanded of his subordinate.
Lucius smiled with a slick disarming charm, "My Lord, why don't you have a drink? Some food? Surely we can offer you something-"
"You can bring me my *bride* Lucius. I start to grow irritated by your recalcitrance. Where is my Draco-bunny?"
Lucius cringed, "I... he went out for a short breath of fresh air - something about wanting to look his best when you arrived. You know how the hopelessly infatuated can-"
Voldemort cut him off, "You may be a Death Eater Malfoy, but you are a *very* bad liar."
"M-my Lord - I swear, your consort would not dream of defying your-"
"Silence Lucius. I see I shall have to handle this matter without your bumbling incompetence. If one wants something done, one must do it oneself. I will woo my beautiful bed-warmer to ensure that he will one day rule at my side, but if you have ruined my chances at winning your fallen angels affection, there will be hell to pay Lucius, I assure you."
"Of course My Lord. I wish you the best of luck when you woo my stubborn son." Lucius performed a deep obeisance and rose only when the loud sound of a whip crack indicated that the Dark Lord had apparated off of Malfoy grounds. His eyes narrowed as Narcissa appeared from where she'd waited outside the doorway - her whelp would pay if he displeased the Dark Lord in any way, and he would suffer for the disgrace he had been to the noble house of the Malfoy family.
~~~
Flinty grey eyes surveyed the nightclub, which stood on the corner of Knockturn Alley and Blackmoon Court, apathetically, unimpressed with the crumbling stone building. Sneering, Draco joined the long winding line of young wizards and witches waiting outside the tall oak doors while the buff wand-wielding bouncers of the "Magic Cane" inspected those who wished to enter.
He fit in rather well with the group of teens who chatted as they awaited their turn to be admitted to the club. The young women, equipped with either forged or authentic magical ID's and dressed in see-through robes, thigh high dragon-hide boots - similar to his, or beaded or pleather skirts, and low cut shirts chattered amongst themselves as they waited. More than a few wore glamours which changed their hair colour every few seconds, creating a kaleidoscope of colours, and Draco was willing to bet that well over half of them had consumed various potions to change certain aspects of their appearance for the night. Equally lurid, in Draco's opinion, were the young wizards whose clothes ranged from neat and upper- class to trashier and sluttier than Draco's own. Many of them wore dragonhide - like the girls, while others paraded in glittering robes, or fine shirts made of woven pixie wings, enchanted to shine iridescently under the magical lights of the club. Then of the course there were those who, aside from glamours to protect their modesty were all but naked.
He was in the belly of the magical underworld now, deeply enmeshed with various other young dark wizards or witches. He recognised a handful of those waiting in the line as "daring" young students looking for adventure during their school vacation. It didn't impress him in the slightest - Gryffindor's, or their equivalent, the type who got a kick out of playing with fire.
Draco found himself holding a listless conversation with the young woman in front of him, while he waited. She was attractive enough, he supposed, and she claimed to be 19, a statement her magical ID authenticated, but Draco judged her to be 16 or 17 at the most. When she spoke it was mostly in French and she introduced herself to him as Cecilia, a former Beuxbatons student, however Draco noticed her attention was more on the blue haired witch in front of her than on him.
Her slim form was clad in a long black lace skirt, which fell gracefully to the ground and almost hid her high-heeled boots from sight. Her long chocolatey hair fell over her shoulders, and he could see shimmers of silver and green when the light hit her. It took him a few seconds to realise that it was her hair, which was sparkling, and not a top. She wore no shirt: her hair was charmed to fall around her chest and protect her naked breasts.
Her conversation was intelligent and her smirk was predatory when she addressed him. "So what am I supposed to call you, sugar?"
Draco paused, having not considered the issue of his name. He certainly couldn't say Draco Malfoy, not if he was running away, he needed something mysterious, charming, but at the same time dangerous. He smirked, "You can call me Lestat."
Cecilia let out a tinkling laugh, like a thousand bells chiming simultaneously, "Like the vampire in the muggle books?"
"Quite," Draco agreed, raising an eyebrow, surprised, he'd read the book - stolen it off one of the mudbloods he taunted at Hogwarts, but he hadn't expected the girl to get the reference, however, he was pleased that he didn't have to explain it.
"Hm, I have an idea..." The girl swept her hand upwards, seemingly pulling her wand from thin air, "How do you feel about 'fake' fangs, Lestat?"
"No objections, as long as you don't turn me into a vampire. I'm running away from the Dark Lord, I don't want him to have any say over my allegiances."
The blue-haired girl in front of Cecilia turned around at this, bearing fangs of her own, "We're not really vampires, it's just fun to pretend. We were looking for a male "vampire" to join our coven. I'm Merrick."
Cecilia laughed again, and with a whispered sound and a twitch of her wand Draco felt his canines grow slightly longer and pointier. It felt... different.
Merrick smirked at him and with a grin cast her own spell, "Another temporary glamour - we thought you'd look more like Lestat with violet eyes, love."
Draco leered, his fangs glinting in the pale light as he offered an arm to each of the girls, "Well then my pets, looks like we're almost at the head of the line now."
Both girls leered back as they accepted the proffered arms.
~~~
"You can't escape from me that easily love," Voldemort purred, spotting his fiancee dancing beneath the flickering blue lights of the club. He took a moment to pause and observe the lithe blond teen as he thrust his body to the beat of the music, his hips rolling, noting, absently, how Draco's pert perfect ass seemed to invite ravishment.
He made his way to the boy effortlessly, the crowds parting before his grotesque visage like the Red Sea before Moses. He scowled at the two girls who seemed to flank his future lover, their feminine nudity irritating him, but then Draco's gaze seemed to meet his, and Voldemort smiled in his most winning manner, "Are you ready to go home, my pet? I thought perhaps we could discuss our upcoming wedding?"
Draco froze, his fangs flashing as he grimaced, "Get fucked. I'm not marrying you, and you can't make me."
"Oh but I can sweetling, you forget, I know how to cast Imperious - I am the Dark Lord, after all. I own this club. I own your parents. I own you, love."
Draco tilted his head, and smiled with all the charm he could muster. "Screw. You."
"You don't mean that," Voldemort purred, pulling the boys hips closer to his.
"You're an ugly snake, I wouldn't marry you if you were the last man on Earth. I'd rather fuck Harry Potter!"
"Ugly? I should have guessed a lovely, materialistic boy like you would not be able to see my inner beauty..."
"Fuck inner beauty, I'm not losing my virginity to anyone who isn't at least my equal in attractiveness."
"Draco-bunny, I will give you your wish, I will make myself attractive for you." Voldemort's long bony fingers dug generously into Draco's perfect butt cheeks.
Draco's eyes widened, "Rape! I'm being raped! By an old, ugly man!"
Voldemort pulled away as the rest of the room turned to look at them, and chuckled maliciously, "I'll find you again, love. You have my word."
"And I'll keep running until you leave me alone. I won't marry you." Draco vowed.
"Yes you will." Voldemort assured him.
He didn't look back as he made his way out of the club, and by the time he reached the exit, Draco's prospective suitor had a new plan to woo the stubborn blond, and he knew exactly how he would execute it. He remembered reading about a very potent (albeit highly illegal) permanent youth restoration potion, and by creating and using it he would prove that he was willing to go to any lengths to win the hand of his Draco-bunny.
~~~
Voldemort, Lord and Master of all he surveyed, paused as his snivelling servant scurried into the room, an anvil held in his hand, and the head of a bawling infant directly beneath the heavy metal hammer, "What is it?"
"As you ordered, Master, we've retrieved the reproductive organs of the Nundu you killed earlier this week." Wormtail bowed deeply, trying to avoid looking at his master.
"Good. Now-" Voldemort returned to the task at hand, raising the hammer once more, preparing to bring it down on the baby's blotched red face.
"Where did you manage to find the child, My Lord?"
Voldemort stopped again, "It's one of Goyle's numerous offspring. I commanded him to give it to me. Now if you don't mind-?"
Wormtail fell into a quivering mass on the floor at the sound of his Master's unpleasant tone. Voldemort brought the hammer down on the squalling child's head with a sickening thud. "Now, where is my unicorn? Wormtail..."
Wormtail scuttled out of the room and returned with a perfectly white, placid looking unicorn. Voldemort's long sallow face brightened, as he picked up the crushed skull and brains and dropped them into a cauldron simmering over the fire in the centre of the room.
"Now, Wormtail: put my Nundu testes into the cauldron. The eyes of the Antipodean Opaleye are already simmering in the sludge with my baby brain."
Wormtail, looking revolted, did as his Master commanded, even as the slithering snake Lord thrust a slender dagger into the breast of the unicorn Wormtail had led into the room. He cracked the ribs of the beast open, and tore out the still beating heart, dropping it into the cauldron along with a hair he had been preserving for this very purpose, a hair he had pulled out of his own head when he was just 17 years old.
It only took the mixture a few moments to come to the boil, turning a deep iridescent purple, and Voldemort chuckled darkly as it did. Dipping a cup made of fine oak into the mixture he drew out a cupful, and bought it to his lips, his red eyes alight with success.
Wormtail watched as the most evil and powerful man in the universe swallowed the vile mixture and promptly collapsed; his body convulsing. He watched, transfixed, as slowly, painfully, Voldemort's body began to change, until lying on the floor where Voldemort had been there now lay an attractive, yet strangely familiar young man. Tom Riddle sat up and laughed,
"You will be mine yet, Draco Malfoy. And you will like being mine, I assure you."
End Chapter One.
Authors Notes: I've never read a Draco/Tom fic before, but I decided the idea was too good to pass up. I haven't really written much (read: anything) in the HP fandom, but this was inspired by some of the brilliant pieces I've read recently. Most notably Delicious As Sin, a brilliantly written dark slashy fic which contained nearly all of my favourite pairings, and managed to be very sensual and yet angsty and real at the same time. And Ron died. If this fic is even half as good as that I will die a happy woman. Completed this chapter at 12:58AM.
Thanks for taking the time to read this - please review?
