WARNINGS: MENTIONS OF DEATH, WAR, VIOLENCE AND TRAUMA

Saturday, September 7th:

It was a harsh autumn evening.

Septrim Seramore strolled through the gates of the cemetery where his best friend lay to rest.

A year and a couple of days since Abraxas Malfoy passed away and a year since he was buried in a grave, leaving Septrim nearly broken.

The death of Ezekiel shattered his soul, and then to hear his dear ole' braxy had submitted to Dragon pox broke his spirit.

Sucking in a deep breath, he slid his hands into his overcoat pockets and stared ahead at the gravestone.

Abraxas Malfoy
Father, Son, Friend.
"To be insane is to be great."
March 9th 1927 - September 6th 1996

Septrim trailed his hand over the wand engraved into the pristine marble as a lonely tear kissed his cheek.

"Sorry I haven't been around as much Braxy, I had a lot of things on my mind," he apologised and immediately waved his hands, magically cleaning up and dust that appeared on the headstone, "War, pain, you know the classic joys of life," he joked.

Sighing he turned his head to the side and eyed all the other fallen loved ones' graves in despair.

"Sapph wanted to come today, but I just wanted it to be me and you," he confessed, staring blankly ahead. "There's a lot to catch up on, I don't even know where to start."

He settled down on the bench close to his friend's grave, not caring about who it belonged to.

"My granddaughter and your grandson have caused a lot of trouble in the wizarding world," he chuckled, "she planned on taking down Dumbledore and almost succeeded may I add. She didn't deliver the final blow. I'm glad she didn't, I doubt she has it in her, she's not capable of that, well not that. She may act as if she's cold as ice but she's a huge softy. Like you my friend."

Septrim annoyedly took out his glasses, after feeling a huge headache coming on and didn't want to deal with the lecture from his dear wife if he returned squinting like a snake. Even though the glasses improved his sight they never felt right, but he didn't want to take any chances. Something like Dragon pox took his best friend, so he had to be mindful of anything at his age.

Reaching 70 wasn't a big accomplishment when he was losing friends left, right and centre.

Pushing up his glasses, he continued, "Celeste must've told the daily prophet Arty was kidnapped, clever thing. Protecting her daughter... all a good parent wants to do is to protect their children," his tone saddened towards the end, "I'm just glad my little princess is alright. There's another war, we've known this was in the works for years, yet we just hoped it wouldn't happen. How absurd."

Septrim wanted his kin to have a self-fulfilling life, grow old and die, but that's just too much to ask for.

"Ophelia sent Blaise off to Hogwarts again. I don't know what she's thinking. I suppose she wants him to act normal, but he's a wizard with the blood of a Seramore and a Zabini, how the hell is that going to happen? He's a bubbling ball of fire waiting to spread his flames. Little inferno."

Memories flooded his mind with images of his old school years.

"At least they have Mente Striae ay? To keep them levelheaded. It helped us most of the time. I'm still surprised we didn't get caught going in, I mean we weren't the most subtle group of boys," a laugh escaped him, "Headmaster Dippet was losing his mind whenever we went missing. The old man was befuddled."

He couldn't stop laughing at the memories that flashed before his eyes.

"I suppose I'm the old man now? You would've been too if you didn't croak so soon," he joked despite himself.

Septrim wished he could go back to all the times they cancelled plans or forgot to write back.

He wished to do it all again with his best friend by his side.

But that's just the thing, Septrim didn't just have Abraxas.

He had Tom too.

Malicious, uncaring, devious Tom riddle.

But how could he think of him in such a way when he was considered his equal?

Brothers, some would say, not by blood but by the mind. Kindred spirits he guessed.

"Arty will keep Draco safe and that boy won't let a fly touch her, without consequence of course. He's a little impetuous but he's alright," he thought back to all the moments he spent with the little heirs and regretted all the moments he left early or pushed more gifts onto them, instead of his time.

If only he could turn back time and do it all again.

He let out another exacerbated sigh, "I didn't tell you this the last time but they know. They all know about that vow and I'm scared Brax. I'm scared. I'm scared that Lucius will do something idiotic and careless. I'm scared that Artemis will be like her father and try and change everything. I want her to go the extra mile but not if it costs her her life. I'm just scared."

An unsettling feeling gnawed at his heart, causing him and place a hand on his chest.

"The vow protects both Arty and Blaise against him, but that doesn't mean something won't happen and I don't know what I'd do if something happens to them."

Septrim knew he wouldn't be able to handle the outcome. He'd suffered many losses but to think of Artemis or even Blaise being harmed would kill him.

"I hope I survive this time around, so I can tell you what happens," his humourless tone wasn't fooling the ghosty presence he felt around him, "You'll be listening because you ain't going anywhere," he chuckled again, "I miss you, old friend."

Suddenly the wind picked up, driving the grey hairs at the back of his neck to stand to attention.

A shiver climbed down his spine, causing his hand to reach for his wand and stand up. Hastily turning he pointed it at the figure that stood only a few metres away.

All the air was knocked out of his lungs upon seeing a pair of crimson eyes, snakelike skin and an airy black robe loosely fitted around its person.

"Tom?"

A chilling grin kissed Voldemort's thin lips, "Hello old friend."

***

"Time has not been kind to you," was the first thing that Septrim said after gawking at the unnerving sight of the darkest wizard to live.

He did not lower his wand, nor did he move back when Voldemort made an effort to move forward, he stayed motionless and slightly repulsed.

"Ah, you remain the joker. I believe that was your forte, if I'm not mistaken," the dark lord uttered, not taking his eyes off of the Seramore wizard.

50 years had gone by yet Septrim don't look a day over 40, which irritated the dark wizard, though, he wouldn't let it show.

"It's kept me going, can't say the same for you. I don't leave dead bodies in my path," Septrim couldn't help but sound disgusted, much to Voldemort's amusement.

It was as if Septrim had forgotten all the plans that he helped Tom with... the hypocrisy was evident, yet it was surprisingly not acknowledged, it didn't need to be, they both knew it.

"How unfortunate, not living up to your potential, so dull and muggle-like," Voldemort mocked, nodding to the wand that hadn't been lowered.

Septrim almost seemed scared of him, but that wasn't the emotion he could smell. Ire, chagrin, vexation, for ruining his precious time with his departed friend. How sweet.

"Says the one with a muggle father," Septrim retorted without care, drawing out the venom crawling around Voldemort's eyes.

"Do not," the dark lord hissed, stepping closer, "Severing the ties I had to that pathetic man was the best thing for me. Dropping down dead and amounting nothing just like the one that bore me."

"Careful, it's not wise to forget your roots."

"There's a wall between them and I."

"A snake-like one no doubt," and finally Septrim lowered his wand and distanced himself from the Dark wizard.

It's funny that they couldn't truly harm each other, even before the vows they forced upon the other with Abraxas as the third party.

Septrim couldn't get in his way and Voldemort couldn't touch or harm anyone with Seramore blood.

How beautifully restricting.

"More quips, I believe it's a sign of a maddening mind," Voldemort remarked.

Septrim mockingly nodded, "And what, killing is a sign of a sane one?"

All patience left the Dark Lord's reptilian-like body, "You pretend as if we were not equal at one point in time. It was you who mentioned horcruxes to me. Pointed me in the direction of them, shoving the idea down my throat, until it was consumed."

Gulping at the memory, Septrim countered, "Suggestions are not commands, that was all you,"

Voldemort tutted, "And insisting I blame others? Was that not all you, after all, I believe that is the Seramore way."

"And what's the Riddle way? Dying young?"

"I suppose like your friend over here."

"Do not," Septrim hissed, "-speak ill of him."

Voldemort cruelly smiled, with his bloodthirsty eyes flickering over to the grave of the wizard he disliked as much as he liked.

He began to move towards it, making the Seramore wizard tense.

"Still defending him even after death, how touching," Voldemort stretched out his hands to feel the marble.

"You haven't changed," Septrim commented, scowling at his actions.

"You have," the Dark Lord's disappointment was clear, "I expected more from you."

"And you've exceeded my expectations."

"Have I?"

"You have."

Septrim always felt like his old friend was destined for greatness or was it wickedness? He couldn't remember now. But he was glad that he took precautions when he did.

"You talk as if dying is a weakness when people die to protect others. You know that more than anyone."

The hand that rested on Abraxas' grave suddenly tightened and Septrim knew he had planted an old memory into his head.

Nova, beautiful Nova. The star that burned out.

Septrim could've sworn he saw a jolt of emotion breech his unyielding eyes.

"It scares me," The Seramore wizard spoke after an uncomfortable silence, "You don't look like yourself, or did you always appear this way to others and I never saw it?"

"You saw it, me as I am, yet you ignored it."

"I guess I did," Septrim confessed, averting his gaze.

"Just like I see you as you are and I see the same in your granddaughter... Artemis," a grin tugged at Voldemort's lips, after noting his old friend freeze, "Delightful name, I recall informing you about the plans I had for such a deserving name."

"I remember," Septrim stiffly nodded, "And how is my granddaughter?"

The thought of her being in that manor with not just the Dark Lord, but his followers that would harm her for a laugh sickened him. But again, he couldn't get involved or disrupt his plans.

"Eerily intelligent, she made her choice, the right choice to join me, unlike you," the exasperation in Voldemort's voice was clear.

He always thought with Septrim on his side, they would change the world, to suit his views.

But that wasn't the case.

"There's a difference between choosing because you have to and choosing because you can," Septrim said in a low tone, which earned a narrowed look.

The pair stood as the winds picked up and more thoughts and feelings cast over them, well ones that the Dark Lord could embrace.

It was tough for Septrim, he was in the presence of two people who he thought were his family and now they were dead.

In different ways, but dead nonetheless.

"You sought me out why?" the question had the older wizard dropping his hand from the grave and manoeuvring back to where he once stood, staring darkly into Septrim's eyes.

"To inform you that I doubt we'll see another. When I win-"

"So confidant," Septrim uttered, but was ignored regardless.

"- a new order will commence," Voldermort finished, flashing a glare ahead.

"I'm aware."

"Those who are loyal will be rewarded and those who are against the new regime," a dark chuckle escaped Voldemort as he dropped his head ever so slightly, still keeping eye contact with his old friend, "well those people will be discarded. It's fairly easy you see."

Your arrogance will be your downfall my friend and what a great fall it will be.

Those words sat on the tip of Septrim's tongue. The same words he spoke in his family room in Hogwarts decades ago with his same friend laying asleep across from him.

The guilt he felt from being a part of such monstrosities never dulled or weakened, it kept him awake, making him toss and turn.

Perhaps that's why he made sure his circle remained small, so he didn't lose anyone else or maybe that's what he told himself.

He'd been distancing himself from the ones he loves for a while, to keep them safe... from him.

Tom Riddle would've turned out this way regardless of his pushing and antagonising, but maybe if Septrim just encouraged him to do the right thing... the thought would be futile as were all the 'what ifs' going through his mind.

They were two sides of the same coin, just one knew how to grip onto decisions that could make a dream turn into a nightmare for everyone and anything living.

"Do you never imagine what you could've looked like if she had survived?" Septrim dared to ask, causing the cruel grin on his face to falter.

"Thinking of the past is a form of-"

"Oh shut it, how can you not think of it every day? I know you do, it led you to this," Septrim said, pushing his glasses up, "I cannot look at you like this."

Voldemort stared at him blankly even though certain feelings were trying to breach his exterior.

A strong wave of his wand rendered the older wizard grunting and wincing at the movements of his snakelike state. It tightened, then loosened before he felt nothing and everything all at once. Eyes once blood red turned cold and piercing, and grey skin became pale and porcelain.

Small groans escaped his lips at the feeling of hair fleeing its scalp and growing at an alarming speed. It was Jet black with small patches of grey around the side.

Life returned to his cheeks and a nose pushed out of the hole it concaved into. Lips grew and cheeks became more refined.

A suit and floor-length overcoat replaced the loose-fitting robes that breezed across the floor and dress shoes concealed his feet.

A small smile crept onto Septrim's face at the success of the charm.

It wouldn't last long, but that didn't matter to him.

Voldemort... Tom looked like how he imagined him to be at 70.

"Hello, old friend."

Tom grunted and turned to Abraxas' grave, peeking at the blurry reflection of himself and Septrim.

He couldn't help the wide-eyed expression and the shock taking over his face.

"You look almost good as I do," Septrim joked, not caring about the glare he received.

"I never asked for this," Tom spoke for the first time, startling them both with his groggy voice.

"And yet I did it anyway," Septrim retorted and sat back down on the bench.

His small never wavered, not for a moment, much to Tom's contempt. The only thing he believed would've added to the look would be that damned Gaunt ring. Tom's face was serious just like it always was, well not always. If only Braxy could see this.

The Riddle wizard continued to stare at the blurry reflection, is this what I would've looked like if she survived? If I cast aside my plans? The thought itself he found humorous, because whether or not Nova lived or his child, he would've gained 7 horcruxes and finished his plans only with a Dark lady and heir by their side.

"Sometimes, I hear her talk to me."

Septrim briefly froze, not expecting him to say that, so he dared to question, "What does she say?"

"Nice things, loving things, things about our heir and then nothing. Just silence."

"Tom-"

He turned to Septrim as he spoke, "That silence is what drives me, vanquish all who threaten me, those who believe that I am their equal, those who believe they can take what is important to me away."

"What if you lose?"

"I can't."

"You've made a name for yourself Tommy," Septrim paused, "that won't be enough will it?"

A scowl dawned on Tom's hardening face, "As if that would be enough for you."

Septrim sighed and looked back at his friend's grave, "Tom, you know something, Brax loved you like family. You might've disliked each other, but he loved you, just as much as he was scared of you."

He could've sworn a ghost of a smile kissed Tom's lips.

"I'm aware."

"I loved you like family," Septrim confessed, shooting him a glance.

Tom shifted uncomfortably in his stance, "I'm aware"

Septrim knew he felt the same, but would never dare to admit it aloud.

"Tom, are you really going to destroy everything?"

He pondered for a moment, then answered, "For her... for them, for me always."

The charm was fading and the hole in Septrim's heart grew once more.

Tom cast one more look toward his old friend as his features started to change, "Ghost."

Disappartion took him away, leaving Septrim alone just like he felt all those years ago.

"Goodbye, Tommy."

***

a/n:

cillian murphy as 𝘁𝗼𝗺 𝗿𝗶𝗱𝗱𝗹𝗲 𝗷𝗿

cillian would've made a great middle-aged tom riddle jr. if they ever made a movie about him, i feel he would be great for the role. there were so many chances for a black sisters series, tom riddle's school years which lead to the mauraders and then the first officially wizarding war or even the founders of hogwarts, but nope, they wanna reboot the whole thing. lets hope they correct things that the original did wrong i guess.

it's crazy to think that think that tom and septrim haven't spoken in 50 years. i keep thinking about making a book about their school life but not going into too much detail and keeping it short.

tom, septrim and abraxas together again, just for a moment, before seppy loses both of them again. i will miss writing them.

the way i write tom and voldemort are different to me, especially when i started writing the battle. although they aren't two different people, they lowkey are to me.

hope you enjoyed this chapter.