Chapter Text
Draco raced across the manor grounds, with his hands stretched towards the snitch. Just a few more centimeters, and he’ll catch it. The bloody little bugger seemed to tease him, grazing his fingers with its wings and zooming away before he could close his hands around it.
He looked at his left from the corner of his eyes, where Dorian was flying neck-to-neck, maybe even a little faster than him. Draco pushed himself forward to go faster, but knew it was the exact moment he’d messed up. The snitch took a ninety degree turn downwards, which he could not do unless he wanted to die. He felt, more than saw, Dorian’s smirk as he twisted his broom and shot straight down, catching the snitch and rolling on the grass gracefully. He tossed the snitch air again and again as Draco neared him, his entire body thrumming with triumph.
“You said you were the star seeker?” He then tossed the snitch at him.
Draco frowned and caught it. “Alright Dorian, both of us knew you’d win. But who’s on the team at the end of the day?”
It was a low blow, but his friend was used to this. He just huffed and turned around towards the manor.
“Just one more year, and I’ll be on the national team. I don’t need to be on a school team for that.” The word was dripped in derision, but also longing.
Draco felt a little bad for him. No matter how much he tried to deny it, Dorian really wanted to visit Hogwarts. But he could never, considering who his father was. When their side will win, the first thing Draco planned to do was take his friend to the school. No magic in the world compared to the magnificence of the castle.
Once inside, they cleaned themselves and prepared for dinner. His mother greeted them, smiling softly and ushering them towards the dinner table where the houselves were setting it up. His father was sitting at the head of the table, reading the Daily Prophet for the second time of the day.
“Lord Malfoy.” Dorian said politely before taking his seat. His father simply nodded, the silver mask showing nothing what was going behind.
Draco did not understand his need for putting it on within the house whenever Dorian came over, since he already knew what his father looked like. He had asked the Lord about it once, and all he’d gotten was a sharp look in reply.
During dinner, his parents inquired about their day, how his summer studies and Dorian’s training was going on.
“Lord Rookwood is excellent at Ancient Runes, though his knowledge in arithmency seems to be lacking severely. Father was disappointed that he lied about it and said that he’ll look into the matter.” His tone and Draco’s parents' faces suggested that the confrontation was about to be particularly painful for Lord Rookwood.
“And what about your formal training, Mr. Riddle? I heard my Lord was planning to start having you involved in the more… serious issues soon.” His father said,glancing at Draco once.
Dorian and him were of the same age. Once he starts actively participating in his father’s other interests, they knew that he would soon have to follow.
Dorian stayed quiet for a while before he spoke. “I have attended a few meetings with him and have accompanied him during his…. outings. He thought I should wait a few more months before– properly getting involved in it.” He did not notice the relief on the three faces around him and he stared at his plate.
The dinner continued, somewhat sombre compared to how it started. Soon after, Draco followed his friend to the fireplace in the hallway, finally away from his parents.
“Sorry about that. He just… likes to check up on what our Lord’s doing.” He smiled apologetically at him.
Dorian shook his head slightly. “It’s fine, father does the same. It’s much worse than yours, honestly.”
Draco laughed. “Another match soon, alright?”
The other boy simply shook his head. “I can never promise that.”
Before the clock chimed at 9, Dorian vanished amongst the green flames, his bright white mask being the last one that disappeared.
Once the green light faded and the smoke dissipated, Dorian removed the mask from his face before even opening his eyes. His father hated when he did this, always telling him to first at least get out of the fireplace and close it properly before, but he was not there for a few days and Dorian hated the mask.
It was not bad, honestly speaking. More comfortable compared to what Draco or anyone else wore, from what he heard. But still, he got very few moments like these and cherished them.
He first went to his father’s office, where as expected, there was a list of books and assignments Dorian had to finish before his father returned. The list always became longer than the last one, making it more difficult for him to keep up. He’d never actually failed to complete his work, had never dared to– not wanting to risk his father’s anger. He’d grown up hearing the tales of the infamous Dark Lord’s wrath, so no.
He went over the list, and cringed when he came across Atticus Avery’s name. The other names weren’t that great either. Rookwood again, Bellatrix Lestrange, Crouch, Nott, and Malfoy.
Dorian had trained under all of them ever since his father had returned five years ago. They weren’t overly bad, just unpleasant to be around.
He sighed and took the parchment with him to the library, finding the books and then taking them to his own room.
Vaas, his snake, was sleeping on his bed when he came back. Dorian flicked his tail when he was passing by, waking it up.
‘Back?’
“Yes. What did you eat today, Vaas?”
‘Rabbit.’
“Good.” He smiled at it, gaining a tilted head in response and started going through the first book. It was going to be a long week.
“Bellatrix has been complaining that you’ve been struggling with the cruciatus again.” His father said, without looking up from the muggle that was screaming in pain at his feet.
Dorian kept his face blank and answered truthfully. “It was the subjects she keeps bringing. That boy was much younger than me.”
Lord Voldemort pinned him with a sharp gaze. “The muggle will never care how young you are when they demonize you for being a wizard. That morality you have pride in, it will cost you your life, Dorian.” He let go of the spell he held the muggle under and pushed him towards him with a flick of his wand. “Continue.”
The younger boy took out his wand from his robes and looked down at the muggle. Without thinking much, he casted the cruciatus curse. It faltered for a moment after the muggle started to scream, but strengthened immediately after that. After a long time when blood had started pouring out of the orifice’s on the muggle’s face and he had lost his mind, Dorian finished it off with the killing curse.
When he looked back up, his father had a strange smug look on his face, which dissolved into an indifferent acknowledgement quickly. “Good, do not forget what I said. You can now leave.”
Dorian nodded and left the room. Once back in his own bedroom, he changed his clothes quickly and collapsed on his bed before he could throw up in the bathroom.
Vaas wrapped itself around his shoulder and flicked his tongue at his face. ‘Blood?’
“I removed it.”
He conjured several mice before the snake could go on its disappointed hissings and closed his eyes. He could not afford to be this affected by all these things any longer.
Dorian accioed the photobook his guardians had given to him when he was younger. They’d never opened it, at least that’s what they said. It was a tremendously rare thing, only a few like these remained in the British wizarding world.
He opened it and flipped through its pages, looking at the pictures of his father when he looked like a man. They were from his years at Hogwarts; though there was nothing serpentine about the young boy in the pictures, just sharpness and calm intelligence behind his eyes. He then reached the pictures of his father just when he’d started gaining traction in their cause, a sixteen year old Tom Riddle in the centre of the picture with his Knights beside him, a little behind and reverently looking at him. He was of the same age as him, but he’d achieved so much more with little to nothing in his hands. Just pure magic, power, and determination. Dorian should’ve done better, being the son of the Dark Lord. But he had not, because he was weak.
As Dorian looked at the pictures, he thought about their similarities. Similar hair, similar face, and similar power. It frustrated him, how close he was to being the perfect son, yet never quite achieving it. It was hard, but he had to do it.
Once he overcame his short-comings, Dorian knew he’d be unstoppable. He just had to do it.
The green-eyed snake bumped his head on his shoulder, bringing him out of his thoughts. ‘Sleep, human.’
Dorian smiled at it and put the book on his night stand. ‘Yes, sir.’
Vaas tilted its head again in confusion before making itself comfortable over him to sleep.