[Fic] one drop too many (Harry Potter)
- Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
- Pairing: Draco Malfoy/Tom Riddle | Voldemort
- Tags: Time Loop
- Word-Count: 1145
- Status: Complete
- First Published: 2024-05-12
- Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter by J. K. Rowling and make no profit from thisâit is solely a hobby for fun, with no financial compensation.
Summary:
Lord Voldemort, Draco realizes two minutes into their strange, circular conversation, has utterly lost it.
Notes:
speedrunniing a time loop fic from outsider pov (of the time loop, that is) in order to hit my writing goal. have fun :D
Work Text:
Lord Voldemort, Draco realizes two minutes into their strange, circular conversation, has utterly lost it.
Whatever marbles he still possessed, he somehow lost in between their fraught meeting this morning during breakfastâbecause for some reason the Dark Lord insists upon eating breakfasts together with all the Malfoysâand their current, equally fraught meeting. Draco glances around the study Lord Voldemort has taken over, and he does his best to pretend he isnât belligerently avoiding looking at Lord Voldemort. Itâs not his fault that Lord Voldemort is ugly, after all, he thinks sullenly to himself, and why must the Dark Lord insist upon continuing to look like that? There are doubtlessly rituals that could fix his nose, at least.
âLook at me,â Lord Voldemort demands, and Draco hesitates a moment too long.
The Avada Kedavra is almost a relief.
--
Lord Voldemort, Draco is regrettably forced to conclude, has lost it. âYou want me to kill Dumbledore?â After a moment, he adds, âMy lord?â and it ends up sounding like a question. He should be used to the Dark Lordâs presence by now, and yet he canât ever seem to find his ground around him.
Lord Voldemort scoffs. âYouâre too soft, boy,â he drawls and Dracoâs mother stills. Draco, in turns, licks his lips and tries to think of something, anything, to say in defense, but the Dark Lord continues, voice rough and slightly too high, âI have a much better assignment for you, Draco. Iâm sure youâll make me pleased.â
Draco never finds out what that is; heâs too busy dying from Naginiâs venom.
So itâs possible stepping on her tail out of shock at the Dark Lordâs frankly insidious tone was a mistake.
--
Lord Voldemort, Draco thinks like the traitor heâs beginning to suspect he might be, must be a madman. There is no other explanation for the Dark Lord himself, alone and entirely in the fleshâsans a nose, of courseâwould be sitting in Dracoâs bedroom when he returns there to take a moment to himself, to collect himself after the dayâs long trials. Being around Death Eaters, Draco has realized lately, isnât particularly good for his health.
He hasnât seen the Dark Lord since breakfast, and that was hours ago. His mother is out on some errand, and itâs embarrassing and pathetic how quickly thatâs the thought that pops into his head when he opens his bedroom door and sees Lord Voldemort on his couch.
Dracoâs mother isnât home.
Heâs hardly aloneâhis aunt Bella is around somewhere, and he thought he saw Severus earlier in the day, and yet feels utterly isolated, unmoored, untethered, when Lord Voldemort turns his face toward the door and inclines his head.
âI thought we could have a talk,â Lord Voldemort says, and Draco realizes he still hasnât entered his room, and that heâs still got a grip on the door, and that he almost slammed it shut upon spotting Lord Voldemort. He almost slammed the door on the Dark Lordâs face.
Draco hurries inside, gently shuts the door, and sits himself down on one of the armchair. He stares, tense and wide-eyed, at Lord Voldemort.
âI heard youâve been having some trouble in school, lately,â Lord Voldemort says.
âItâs nothing,â Draco rushes. âJustâschoolboys. Itâs no trouble at all, really. Iâm handling it. Iâm good at handling these things. Nothing to worry about.â Then he adds, after a too-long moment of silence, âThank you for the concern, my lord.â
The Dark Lord hums. Draco has never heard him make that noise before, and for a moment he canât even comprehend itâs coming from Lord Voldemort. Lord Voldemort is humming, and it feels almost like Draco is in a dream. The whole day has been strange, he thinks. Maybe he is dreaming. Maybe heâs hallucinating. Maybe that last crucio Lord Voldemort bestowed upon him knocked something lose in his brain.
Nothing else makes sense, he thinks.
--
Lord Voldemort is a fool, Draco thinks. Why else would he standing up in the middle of breakfast only to declare, âI will be marrying Draco.â
--
Okay, Draco is forced to admit, Lord Voldemort deciding to throw a ball all of a sudden can only mean one thing; he has lost it. Utterly. The madman has gone over the edge and now nobody will have a good ending. What use is a ball when theyâre losing. And inviting the Minister? How can that end well?
Draco doesnât understand. He also doesnât understand why itâs imperative it happens today of all days, when Lord Voldemort has made no such plans known to anybody before.
Dracoâs mother is incredibly good at organizing events, but even she wonât be able to make this a success.
This canât possible end well.
--
âDance with me,â Lord Voldemort says at the ball. It went strangely well. Lord Voldemort introduced a complicated plan at breakfast, pulled in everybody who wasnât busy to make sure it could happen today, and now theyâre throwing a ball at Malfoy Manor. And the Minister of Magic is here. Together with Lord Voldemort. In the same room.
Draco is, to say the least, confused.
But he accepts the dance, knowing thereâs no true choice to be had. And, he thinks when he gazes up at the Dark Lord, it almost looks like heâs growing a nose.
So Draco dances with Lord Voldemort, and itâs not horrible. It turns out Lord Voldemort does know how to waltz, and the music is pleasant and the drinks are nice and by the end of the eve Lord Voldemort has a nose again. Draco barely understand how that happens, and yet he was watching it all along. And, he thinks when theyâve stopped dancing and are just sort of loitering by one of the pillars in the ballroom, Lord Voldemortâs pallor seems less⌠weird.
--
In the morning, Draco gets up to have breakfast with his parents and Lord Voldemort, as he always does. The Dark Lord is already seated when he arrives, and is grinning. Draco freezing, for a moment scared that heâs done something wrong, but Lord Voldemort looks even better than he did yet. He has hair, again. And his skin is a proper human-tone.
âGood morning, Draco,â Lord Voldemort greets him, and Draco gulps but sits. Glances at his parents. Theyâve got no answers to give, seeming just as unsettled by Lord Voldemortâs transformation as him. âI think weâll have a most pleasant day. Donât you?â
âOf course, my lord,â Draco hastily agrees, and pretends he isnât thinking of dancing with Lord Voldemort. He almost thought it was all a dream when he woke up but⌠no, he thinks. That really happened. All that stuff yesterday really happened, and now Lord Voldemort is in a frighteningly good mood, and he doesnât know what the future holds anymore.
Doesnât know it at all.