Work Text:
"My plan for today? Swimming, of course! It would be a waste to not use the pool you gave me, Mother."
.
His office was silent. Rolls of parchments situated next to his desk, each contained an integral part of his plans for Britain. One parchment was laid open on his desk, a matter of urgency written on it, demanding his attention.
Instead, Tom's eyes were locked on a spherical artifact on another desk not far from where he sat.
The glass, fogged it might be, let him see what is unseen beyond walls and space. A useful thing to have, though practical it was not, as the artifact only let him see within a confined place. A place that must be linked to the artifact.
A place that was now called his family residence.
In it was a display of a boy, smiling. Possibly humming to a tune if Tom's experience with the boy remained true on this occasion. His clothes were already discarded, leaving only bathing shorts on his body.
Now, before you make a wrong assumption about Tom, it should be noted that the boy on the display was his son, and he had a good reason - a non lecherous reason - to watch the boy from the solitude of his office.
It should also be noted that Tom took his responsibilities and commitment seriously. The parchment sprawled on his desk was not discarded for mere trivial reasons, mind you.
It was not a trivial thing, Tom assured himself. He had reservations about the room the boy currently occupied right from the beginning.
You see, in the room was a swimming pool. A death trap, Tom called it in the privacy of his mind.
Because that pool had a depth of ten feet.
And ten feet was too deep for a child!
Tom couldn't care less on how the boy spends his time. As long as the boy understands his duties and obligation as Slytherin's heir - or more importantly, as his heir, then Tom had no comment on how the boy lived his day. Which was why he kept silent when the boy revealed his plan for swimming at breakfast.
But just in case, Tom thought as he watched the boy through the spherical glass, eyes unblinking.
He almost scoffed when the boy let out a cheer as he plunged himself to the pool - Tom hadn't forgotten the boy's excited cheer when he jumped into the chamber of secrets' entrance. No doubt that the boy was repeating that sound. Ridiculous. How could anyone with his face act so childlike? Tom swore he himself had already grown up before he reached the age of seven.
He watched as the boy's head resurfaced right where the water splashed previously. He watched him take a deep breath, before vanishing deep into the water.
The ticking clock suddenly grew louder in his ear.
Ridiculous, Tom again thought as he watched the silent water. The boy was not swimming like he said he would be. Instead, it seemed that he went for a dive. Didn't the boy know not to dive in a swimming pool? Especially a swimming pool with a depth of ten feet!
Tom reached for his wand. His fingers twirled it in his hands in between his strong grip.
The water was calm and sixty seconds had passed.
The clock seemed to grow slower.
The storm in his mind grew wilder.
The water surface stayed unbroken.
Tom jolted from his seat when approximately two minutes had passed. He started to pace across the room.
Two minutes was the longest time Tom could hold his breath without magic's aid. Sure, he was not accustomed to swimming, therefore might not have developed his lung capacity to the fullest.
But he was an adult. Adults had better lung capacity.
And ten feet was too deep for a child.
In a blink of an eye, he apparated. Right into the pool room, his feet toeing over the edge of the water. There was no time. He wasted too much time already.
That annoying brat needed retrieving.
Tom dived into the water, fully clothed. He swam right to the bottom of the pool, finding his son's tranquil face with his eyes closed, body unmoving a couple of feet away from him.
It didn't take long for Tom to reach him, one arm surrounding the boy's body and pulling the boy closer to his chest. But Salazar, it felt like eternity.
Unknown to Tom, however, the boy he just snatched was just minding his business at the bottom of the pool.
Alduin enjoyed the water pressure on him, feeling in peace as if he was at home. He closed his eyes for he preferred the darkness over the bright blue tiles of the pool. Preferred to imagine himself swimming somewhere deeper where the light of the sun did not reach rather than surrounded by the superficial light that the blue tiles easily reflected.
Which was why he was very dismayed when he felt himself pulled away from his peace.
Straight to the broken music of a cello amplified by the water.
He opened his eyes only to find himself trapped. Mister Riddle - Father, he called him now - tucked him in his chest as he swam. No doubt to drag him to the surface. Alduin tried fighting his way out of his arms, but Father only held him tighter. His options were limited, unfortunately. His arms was kept locked beside him.
They both gasped for air as they broke the surface.
Father immediately reached for the edge of the pool, lifting himself up. Soon, Alduin found himself being pulled up by a pair of strong arms too.
Much to his bewilderment.
He rubbed his face off the water falling from his hair, combing his curly hair to the back with his fingers. Father had not done what he did, and so, Alduin watched as water dripped from his own curly hair. Right onto his flushed, undoubtedly enraged face.
"Are you an imbecile?!"
Father looked positively unhinged.
"Diving that deep - what would you do if I have not the means to watch you stupidly swim in this death trap? That's right. Nothing," the man hissed, answering his own question without giving Alduin any time to reply. "As you would be dead," he finished. His breath ragged and uneven.
Alduin blinked slowly, processing.
The man always looked composed and impeccable - except for that time at Malfoy manor when he fought mother - so seeing him unraveled was truly an odd experience.
What an odd Father he had, Alduin thought.
.
Tom wanted to curse the boy's face.
It looked so unmoved. Apathetic. As if he didn't just almost meet his death.
He looked away, finally copying the boy's gesture to get rid of the water and dripping hair from his face. Why must the boy look so much like him?
"This is that reckless witch's fault," Tom continued his rant. He could see that the way he mentioned his mother made the boy bristled. "She put these ideas in you."
"Mother doesn't put 'ideas' in me," Alduin replied, finally finding his voice. His face was stern. "I decided to swim because I like it."
"Oh, like you didn't almost drown?" He sneered.
"I didn't," the boy was quick to defend, his face unimpressed. "I was perfectly fine before you pulled me to the surface. Or did you not sense me fighting against your grip?"
They held each other gazes, unrelenting. It was the umpteenth time that he cursed the boy's physical similarity with him. As if looking at the mirror of his past.
He considered the boy's words and was ready to deny it - only to remember that yes, he did feel the boy trying to escape his grip.
But Tom was not easily convinced. "You were there for almost three minutes."
The boy stared flatly at him, face blank of expression.
"Of course I can hold my breath longer than three minutes, o father of mine," he drawled within a beat.
Tom's eyes twitched.
He had the urge to swat the boy back into the pool.
Just to test the truth of his claim.
In fact, he would do just that if it weren't for the sound of the door opening, drawing the boy's attention. Tom followed his gaze.
The boy's mother walked through the door carrying a tray full of cookies and many other snacks, complete with a jug of juice. Unaware of the tension that filled the room she just walked into. She had the warmest, most loving - most infuriating smile on her face as she opened the door. The white floral dress that hugged her figure was a picture of domestic perfection.
"Al, I brought your snacks - "
"Sweet!" The boy beamed.
Tom watched, utterly baffled as the boy quickly forgot about him. Running straight to his mother and his snacks. The witch, meanwhile, looked startled when the boy managed to reply to her call. She finally noticed that something was different - The boy wouldn't have been able to answer her if he was still deep in the pool, after all.
Their gazes met. She looked more startled now that she registered his presence.
Tom was suddenly very aware of the weight of his suit. His dripping suit. His dive into the pool had completely soaked him from hair to toes.
His toes.
The toes on his right foot were colder than the others. His toes were out in the open.
He lost one of his shoes in the pool.
"Thank you, Mother." The boy took one of the cookies, eating it in rapid speed.
But the mother's attention was still on him. Her eyebrows arched as if silently questioning his state.
This is her fault.
"Ten feet is too deep for a child," he growled.
He didn't see her reaction as he apparate out of the mansion.
.
Hermione blinked slowly, dumbfounded as the man disappeared from the room. The tray in her hands felt weightless as she considered what happened.
Did she just see Voldemort soaking wet in a suit?
Her son's cackling broke her out of her stupor. Hermione tried not to be so suspicious, but it was hard not to be when one had to share a house with a dark lord. And so she unconsciously checked on Alduin. His hair was wet, and so was his body. He already put on his swimming shorts.
Her son looked fine. No dark curses marred his being. But his cackle worried her. "Al, what happened?"
Instead of answering, her question only made him cackle louder.
"Did you see his toes?" Alduin asked, his tone mirthful. "He lost one of his shoes!"
She huffed, smiling. Her son's happiness was contagious.
It took a while until Alduin regained his composure and told her what happened. She wanted to feel for the man. The overwhelming worries over her son's well-being was something she was extremely familiar with, after all. But hearing that he ultimately blamed her for putting ideas in her son's head? That he didn't trust her judgment to keep her own son safe? Whatever empathy she had for the man was quickly gone with the wind.
The man did not show his face for the rest of the day. Hermione quickly realized that he had left the mansion.
The image of Voldemort soaking wet as he appeared in Malfoy manor with one shoe less brought a smile to her face. Better yet, she hoped he rushed a drying charm on himself. Making that perfect curls fluff up, frizzy and untamed.
It was almost anticlimactic when the man sauntered into the dining room the next morning. His face composed and clothes impeccable as he sat. Waiting to be served his breakfast.
Acting like a cat who had done nothing embarassing of any sorts.
"Good morning," she greeted the man.
The man acknowledged her with a mere nod.
She and Alduin exchanged a glance. Hermione had to give her son a silent warning. She saw that glint on his eyes, promising mischief.
At least wait until they finish their breakfast first.
Thankfully, Alduin got her message. Breakfast was a silent affair, and as Hermione deduced many times before, the man was shameless. He bossed around them, ordering Alduin to study hard and not waste his time on useless endeavors and for her to prepare lunch and dinner today for two people only.
"I have business to arrange today," he explained. "I'll miss lunch and dinner."
Hermione almost rolled her eyes. She never prepared food for three people. Yes, she always cooked extra, but that was solely for Alduin's sake. Her son got hungry all the time.
It bears repeating: The man was shameless.
Noticing her displeasure, her son cleared his throat. His face was pleasant as he regarded the man.
"Speaking of business, Father, I found one of your business appropriate shoes in the pool.
The man went rigid. He looked down on her brave, brave son. The tension between the two of them could cut glass.
It was not the first time that she hoped Alduin didn't tempt fate with reckless abandon.
But Godric, did it feel good.
Hermione bit down her smile. At least the man wouldn't stoop so low to return a teasing of a ten years old boy with serious threats, would he?
She watched as the man drank and put down his glass, before meeting her son's gaze once more. A hint of red glinted in his eyes.
"Caution, brat. I could deepen the pool and let you drown yourself next time."
She spluttered.
"Tom!"