Chapter I:
Summary: When his wife and their mother is murdered after birth, Voldemort and his children decide to take their revenge by playing the long game with the unsuspecting Order. DracoxHermione, HarryxDaphne.
Sweat glistening on her forehead, the secluded lady of the manor sat up, despite the solitary midwife struggling to calm her down. She and Tom had stood by each other through everything; she couldn't do this without him. "Where is my husband?"
The poor woman serving her shook her head in despair. "No-one knows, Lady Riddle. An attack on the Order-"
"The damn Order will still be wriggling like worms tomorrow," Estelle cursed. This would only happen once.
"One more push, my lady!" Her bloodcurdling scream pierced the air, joined in harmony with a tiny squeal. Tears pricked her eyes as the cord was cut and a little pink creature was held up. A parade of house elves by the door shrieked in excitement and Estelle laughed joyfully, despite the pain not having subdued as she thought it would. The midwife bent down again and then met her eyes apologetically. "You must do it again," she took a confused heaving breath. "There is another child."
"Ano-?" She shook her head. Twins! It was something to celebrate, not commiserate. And she was strong, it was one of the reasons Tom loved her. He would be back soon, victorious and grounded by the children. Ready to live a family life rather than a reckless one. She pushed and pushed, shrieking even as the second child was born. A boy this time. But there was still pain. House elves took the children through to the prepared nursery before she got to hold them, the midwife more concerned with her; with the blood. She took her wand and began to try to fix it, but then she fell down. Estelle didn't have the energy to get up and see what was going on, but she didn't have to wait long before a shot of green light and an accompanying dark curse ended her suffering.
Tom returned from the attack on the Order with his best friend for a celebratory drink after their resounding success. They were wearing the Light down little by little. It felt as though the final battle would be soon, making him a great conqueror at last. A conqueror with a dynasty, he thought, debating calling his wife down to join them, but concluding that she was probably asleep, and eight months into pregnancy he knew by now that it was never a good choice to interrupt that. As they made their way to the bar, the house seemed curiously dead, even though he supposed it was late. Still, he was prone to get up in the middle of the night and there were usually some elves around. "I am going to go check on Estelle actually," he decided. There was something niggling at him, telling him he really should.
"I'm starved," Lucius drawled, patting him on the back jovially. "I'll make my own way down to the kitchen."
"You know the route well," Tom responded, all jocular despite his misgivings. Joking around helped him feel a little less nervous, but once the two men had split up the feeling that something was terribly wrong edged it's way back into his consciousness. He headed straight for their bedroom rather than the library, which he would have checked for his bookworm wife were it daytime, only to see from a way off that the door was open. Estelle could only sleep in darkness, it was a peculiarity they both shared, so either she wasn't in there or something was very wrong. Rushing forwards, Tom called out his wife's name, the last letters dripping off his lips as he saw the blood on their red sheets; the woman he loved lying there with her eyes open looking towards the ceiling. He stumbled over a body he didn't bother to identify to reach her, gathering her clumsily in his arms as he repeated her name in a crazed fervor; kissing her lips like she was his sleeping beauty, squeezing her too hard for someone alive, begging her to come back. "Tom." Reluctantly he looked up to see a man, somber but who had clearly tried to gain his attention already without fruition. "I'm so sorry- but look." His friend stepped aside and two traumatised looking house elves rushed forwards to pass him two naked pink babies, who somehow retained calm despite their certain cold and fear.
"What-?" He had no idea how he wished to complete that question, only glancing between the girl's nose so like her mother's and the boy's green eyes, a perfect mirror of her. He didn't listen as the elves explained how they had heard intruders and taken the children down to the kitchen, hiding under the counters with them for what felt like hours until Lucius found them. That story would have to be retold to him later.
His chief Death Eater shivered as he closed the eyes of their midwife respectfully and covered her with a sheet. "What will you name them?"
"Henry." He declared decisively for his son. Just last night he and Estelle had stayed up late arguing about names. It seemed ridiculous now, but she had been adamant that Henry Riddle was a noble name whilst he had called it pretentious. About halfway through the argument her points had convinced him, but he'd been too stubborn to admit it and they'd gone to sleep facing away from each other.
"And the girl?"
They hadn't gotten around to girl names. It should have been the topic for tonight. Then he got absorbed by what was clearly a distraction, not even telling his wife where he was going. His ego was too large for such a momentous choice, it should be hers. "Hermione," he breathed out in tribute to her. Estelle would never have been selfish enough to use her own name, but he could imagine her honouring her mother in the same way.
Each holding onto a godparent, Harry and Hermione squeezed the hands next to them tightly, even more so after they'd apparated. The swirling strangeness was more familiar than the packed street. "Welcome to Knockturn Alley," announced Lucius. He and Narcissa smiled at them ruefully, not wanting to let go. Neither twin wanted to leave either. The plan was clear; they to split up. They had to act like they didn't know each other, both lost muggles, which would be easy when neither had ever been around this many people. Neither had ever been around more than their family. Growing up, they had lived in an beautiful, spacious but isolated house with strict wards. They had never travelled outside the perimeters of their, admittedly large, estate. Certainly, they had never been shopping alone. "Good luck," Narcissa kissed each of their cheeks and Draco hugged them both, saying he wished they could shop together.
"For next year's kit list," Hermione promised, squeezing his hand. The corner of Harry's mouth quirked upwards a little bit but his twin could read the nervousness in his body language, and hugged him as well. "See you soon."
After testing out over ten wands, Hermione would have been panicking that she wasn't indeed a witch if she were the muggleborn she was pretending to be and hadn't already been learning and excelling in lessons whilst having spurts of tween magic back home, so of course she had to fake it. The old man might be the only one in the store, but this illusion had to be total. To his credit, he was very comforting, telling her that the wand chose the wizard or witch, sometimes it just took longer than for others. She asked him what was the longest it had ever taken anyone to find their match, and he paused, asking her to wait a moment. When he emerged from his storeroom he was holding another wand. He passed it straight to her without saying anything instead of the descriptions he'd been giving, and sat down on a footstool with his head rested on his fist, looking curious as he nodded her to try it.
The wand felt good in her hand, as if it was melding into her grip, and this time nothing in the shop blew up. "That's the one," smiled Ollivander in a contagious way. "Curious... I only had the two wands with that core shipped in this morning and sold them both today." Hermione's smile grew wider, knowing just who had that matching wand.
Standing on a stool with a woman with pins in her mouth fitting his robes, Harry wished Draco was here to make a joke that would cause him to jolt with laughter and jab the poor woman with her needle. This was terribly boring. When the bell above the front door dinged, signalling another human, his head snapped over there so fast that it could have snapped right off. Studying the new arrival, he quickly identified them from the trio's lessons on Pureblood families: red hair; hand-me-down clothes; it must be a Weasley. Said Weasley was looking around at the clothes and their price tags quite anxiously so Harry called out "I've never worn a robe except one designed to sit around the house and eat breakfast in before, and my dressing gown never took this much fitting."
The ginger laughed. "Yeah, me neither. I mean, I've worn a robe, but I've never actually been to a shop to get my own new on-"
His sentence was interrupted by three platinum blonds bustling into the shop, whom Harry had never been so happy to see. They knocked the other boy over without so much as an acknowledgement and headed straight over to the best quality, most expensive clothes. Clearly, the Weasley has anger issues as he barely managed to hold back a feral growl, but he shook his head as if counting to ten and then walked over to Harry's stool. "I'm Ron," he announced, "Ron Weasley."
"Harry Potter," he replied, gaining the desired O shaped mouth that could catch fruit flies. His family had done their research, and the war 'heroes' the Potters had been killed by his actual father, leaving an incredibly brave for somehow surviving baby boy, or so the Order thought. In actuality the child had been killed too, replaced with a muggle like the stories of faerie child snatchers. The leader of the Order and the headmaster of Hogwarts Dumbledore, had dumped him with a family with little thought for their quality of care. Dumbledore had also been the one to orchestrate Harry's mother's death, and for that he would pay. But for now he was Potter, the hero who'd done nothing but be hidden to survive his parents' death and become a symbol of hope. He supposed if it had been a true story it would have been quite similar to his own, actually.
Hearing the name, Draco and his parents turned around, but only the eleven year old approached. "Ignore this ginger parasite. I'm Malfoy, Draco Malfoy." He extended a hand, perhaps enjoying his role as the narcissistic bastard a little too much. "Son of Lucius, grandson of Abraxas, descendant of Hogwarts headmaster Phineas Nigellus Black." Rather than challenge the view of himself as a bug, Ron practically played onto it by figuratively grabbing into Harry's sleeve in desperation.
"Don't trust him Harry!" He begged. "He was only interested when he heard your name."
"Oh." Harry blushed, acting in his own role as the boy who'd just discovered his fame in his new world. "I-" he looked between the two boys with his best conflicted expression, then he solidified it at his best friend. "No thank you. I'm not interested in friends who want to use my name." Somehow he kept his expression harsh; maybe it would be easy to play his enemy if Draco was so good at playing the jerk.
"Very well," the blond sniffed and somehow managed to stare down his nose at Harry, who stood on the stool two feet above him. Lucius tapped him on the shoulder in a reprimanding way and he sighed. "If you realise your mistake, my offer remains open." Then the Malfoys left the store, leaving an agape Ron and a secretly amused Harry.
The Weasley boy let out a horrified 'pft' and snorted. Like an animal. Eurgh. Maybe he should find another Order child to befriend instead. "I've hated the Malfoys my whole life. You're lucky you met me first and I could point you away from them." Someone had an inflated sense of their own self-importance.
"Have you encountered them often then?"
Ron had the decency to blush. "No- I mean, this is the first time I've ever met them, but everyone knows they're a bad family. Mine is one of the only good Pureblood ones."
Barely holding in a horrified scoff, Harry nodded in fake understanding. This was going to be agonising.
AN: The next chapter, and the rest of the story, will flash forward to the seventh and final year of Hogwarts, when the results of the plan will finally begin to materialise. ;) Tell me what you think!