Prologue

In a small, richly decorated child's room, colored entirely in dark greys, silvers, and blacks, sat a very small, very pale boy with white blonde hair and bright grey eyes. He was the most cheerful thing in the room, giggling as he played. At this point in the boy's life, he was seven years old, and nothing had happened yet to take away the smile from his pale cheeks. Unbeknownst to him, this was the day that planted the seed that made the light in his eyes fade. But currently, the child was still happy, still shining like a star in the world of silver and grey that was his home.

"Draco." Said a cold, thin voice from the dark wooden entrance to the room.

Instantly, the smile faded from the child's face. He turned to the figure, his face sliding into an expressionless, emotionless mask. "Yes, Father?" His voice was now cold and uncaring, very much like his father's, with none of the childish joy he'd previously expressed.

The man stepped out of the shadows. He was quite tall and thin, with high cheekbones and a permanent sneer on his face. He was clearly the boy's— Draco's— father, as he had the same white blonde hair and grey eyes, though his hair stretched down to the center of his back, and his eyes had none of their son's brightness. "I need you to follow me."

Draco had been told constantly that obedience was his only job in life. Whoever he was following at the time would always know what was best for him, and so he should do as he was told. The little boy had followed this commandment down to the "t," and never once had be disobeyed. He'd considered it, true, but he figured that his parents' teachings were true. They had no reason to lie to him.

All the same, something about the tone of his father's voice struck a note of fear in the boy's stomach. He had a terrible feeling that whatever was about to happen wouldn't be good. Most would cast off this premonition as the whims of a child, but Draco had always had an uncanny ability to sense bad things before they happened. It was no special power, but it was certainly something real.

After a moment's hesitation, the boy got to his feet and took his usual place by his father's side. No matter what he might be feeling currently, his father wouldn't take no for an answer. The tall, cold man nodded curtly in approval at the obedience and turned to leave the room. "Come, Draco; we have places to be, and I have a story to tell you."

This intrigued the boy, as he had no previous recollection of his father telling his stories. That was always his mother; she was the more affectionate one, and the one who was around most often. "What's it about, Father?" Draco asked, careful to keep his voice level. His father didn't like hearing too much emotion in his son's voice, so he'd learned how to drain all feeling from it.

His father roughly grabbed the boy's hand and began to slowly lead him through the halls. Then he began his story in a distant fashion that fit his demeanor perfectly.

Many years ago, the man, whose name was Lucius Malfoy, worked as the manager of a rather large and prosperous bank. When he first began working there, he thought that the establishment was entirely honest, but as he was rapidly promoted, he realized that there were some shady dealings that he hadn't noticed at first.

For example, the matter of this "Tom Riddle" fellow. He wasn't technically in their systems, nor was he technically under a loan, and yet thousands upon thousands of dollars were going to the man each month. Lucius wasn't a good man, but he was a loyal one. He began to slowly cut off the funds to the man, figuring he didn't deserve the money anyway.

Once the income had been cut in half, Lucius decided to leave it be. He didn't want to stop giving him money completely- he didn't want to make enemies- but he hoped the reduced money would cripple Riddle in whatever his plans were. Apparently, this scheme worked, for one day Tom Riddle paid him a visit.

Lucius was at his desk, filling out some paperwork, when he noticed the shadow of someone standing over him. "Excuse me, sir, but are you allowed to be in here?" He asked politely, before looking up. His gaze was met with that of a very tall, handsome man with dark eyes and pitch black hair. "I'm sorry, but who are you?"

"My name is Tom Riddle." Said the man in a very cold voice. It was a little higher-pitched than he'd expected, but still terrifying. "Are you the one who has been reducing my income?"

The bank's manager winced and straightened, trying to not look terrified. "Yes. Well, I'm really sorry about that, but you see-" Lucius cut off as Riddle pulled a gun on him.

"I'm going to give you two options. Either you can give me my money back, and double the amount I got originally, and promise to do whatever I tell you from this point on until death do us part," the last part being said in a particularly sarcastic tone, "or I can kill you right now. Understood?"

Lucius, though he was an honest man, valued his life and livelyhood more than his principles. "I will pledge my eternal loyalty to your cause right now." He said with only a moment of hesitation. "Just after I give you that pay raise."

Riddle appeared to be pleased at the man's attitude. "Good. Lucius Malfoy, I am pleased to be your new master."

Draco frowned. He wasn't sure he liked this story. "You joined the bad man with the gun?"

His father straightened and glared at his son. "No, Draco, I joined the good man with a vision for the world. I have never regretted joining his cause, and I know I never will."

"Oh." He must have interpreted the story wrong, then, to think that Tom Riddle was bad. His father was always right, he knew this, and always knew what was best for him. "But why does it matter?"

Lucius's face twisted into a chilling smile. "It matters, Draco, because my Lord is here tonight. He would like to meet you, and prepare you for your initiation upon your coming of age."

"Father, I don't understand." Draco said, biting his lip. Something about this whole situation scared him, but he didn't know what. "What initiation?"

His father chuckled softly and ran a hand through his son's blonde hair. It was an uncharacteristically loving gesture, and it made the hair on the back of the boy's neck stand on end. "You'll see, Draco. I promise, it will be a good thing."

This reasurance made his muscles relax. His father never lied. He knew this. He trusted this. And even more importantly, he never broke his promises. "Okay, Father. What do I need to do?"

"Nothing." Lucius said, his voice suddenly back to its normal cold, emotionless tone. "My Lord will take care of everything." They were by the large, dark, wooden double doors to the formal dining room. Draco had seen them before, but he'd never been allowed to enter. This thought made his stomach drop in apprehension, and he began to fidget with his clothes, his heart pouding in his chest.

His father noticed, and placed his hands heavily on his son's shoulders. Instantly, the flurry of small movements ceased, leaving a boy who was very clearly struggling to contain his nervous fear. The long-haired man nodded curtly at the men by the large doors, and they open without a sound.

It was a long, dark room, made of the same dark wood found throughout the house, and the only source of light was the large lit fireplace at the end of the room. Because of this, it was impossible to see what the man sitting in the armchair looked like. He was tall enough that a large portion of his head stuck over the top of the chair, but the rest of his features were hidden in darkness. Suddenly, there was a tiny spark- a lighter- and something, presumably a cigar, began to smolder. The man did not raise the cigar to his lips, but rather held it between his fingers, and simply watched.

After a long moment of silence, the man- Riddle- spoke. "So we meet at last, Draco Lucius Malfoy. Your father took his time in getting you." His voice was high-pitched and raspy, with a deadly tone to it. "Tell me; do you know anything about who we are, and what we do?"

"No, sir." Draco said quietly, looking down at the ground, the beginnings of tears burning in his eyes. He didn't like this man; he wanted to go back to his room and pretend none of this ever happened.

"Hmm." Riddle raised the cigar to his lips and puffed. He breathed out with a raspy sigh, and a curl of grey smoke left his lips. "Well, then, I must fill this… gap in your education."

Suddenly, Lucius stepped forward, looking a little pale, his hands wringing themselves desperately. "My Lord, I did not mean to deprive him of this important knowledge. I simply thought to wait until he was older. I-"

"Silence!" Snarled the man as he slammed his free hand on the table, making a surprisingly loud thud. "I do not wish to hear your excuses at this time, Lucius. I will deal with your disappointment later. For now, I must tend to your son, and you are not to interrupt me, am I understood?" His voice was only a hair below yelling now, and Draco's eyes were huge with fear.

"Yes, my Lord." Said his father in a much quieter, submissive voice, and he took a few steps back, leaving Draco alone at the end of the table. He looked around the room, trying to find a way out, before giving up and standing up a little straighter. If he couldn't get out, he'd at least be dignified.

Riddle noticed this and chuckled softly, his breath hissing through his teeth. "Good. You have strength, little Malfoy, and far more bravery than your father ever had. I believe you could be of some use to me, once you've grown." Though normally such words would fill someone with pride and hope, these cold icy knives only made him want to flinch, though he held back the best he could. "Now…" He sucked in on his cigar once more, and let another smoke ring leave his shadowed lips.

"Most would call me a villain, or a criminal. I rather resent the term. What one man calls a criminal, another calls a visionary. And that is what I am. A visionary." Riddle laughed, and set down his cigar on the table, ignoring the crystal ash tray in front of him. Behind his son, Lucius winced as the hot ash fell on the fine table, but stayed silent. "Nott- a drink, please." The man in the corner of the room, who Draco hadn't noticed before, rushed forward holding a bottle of some sort of liquor. "You are dismissed." He said as soon as the glass had been poured, and Nott fell back into the shadows.

Riddle took a small sip and proceeded to hold the glass in front of him, swirling the contents slightly. "Now, where was I… ah, yes, a visionary. These days, everyone is obsessed with what they call 'equality.' Everyone is equal, and should be treated so. But my followers and I, we know the truth. There are certain people who are far superior to others, and as those at the top, it is our job to eliminate those who are lesser. Do you understand, Draco?"

He did. He might be only seven years old, but he knew what- and who- Riddle was talking about. His father had told him thousands of times that anyone 'whose ethnicity was not caucasian,' as Lucius so delicately put it, should not be allowed to live in the United Kingdom. Personally, Draco didn't see how they were so bad or different, but he knew better than to argue with his parents or point this out.

So, despite his own personal doubts of the truth of these values, Draco nodded. Riddle leaned forward slightly. "I trust Lucius hasn't left this part of your education for a more suitable age?" He said with a sneer. Draco shrunk into himself as his father began frantically telling his master how his son was well-versed in white supremecy (Author's note: even typing this is making me want to throw up ugh). Riddle listened for a while, his body language showing his amusement, before calmly speaking. "That is enough, Lucius. I am pleased that you have not failed in this aspect of the boy's education. Now, Draco, you already know of the lesser peoples of which we speak. I trust you can infer the rest for yourself?"

Sensing the man wanted a reply, Draco looked straight at where he judged Riddle's face to be. "Yes, sir. I can."

"You have guts, boy." Riddle laughed, taking another sip of the liquor in his fine crystal glass. "I cannot wait until your final oath. You will be a powerful follower. Is that prediction correct, Draco Malfoy?" Riddle's amused voice fell back into its more threatening range, the rasp becoming far more obvious. "When the time comes, will you obey me?"

Draco wanted to run away. He was too young for this. Couldn't he wait, enjoy his childhood a little longer before its brutal murder? But no. He had to answer, and there was really only one option. He was a boy whose only job was to do as he was told, no matter who it was, and that included this terrifying man in front of him.

"Yes." He said, his voice shaking only slightly, his body wanting to run and stay at the same time. "I will."

Riddle laughed, a high-pitched, chilling sound that made everyone in the room flinch instinctively. He waved his hand, and Nott reappeared out of the corner to take Draco and Lucius out of the room. Lucius looked relieved, as though his worst fears had been wiped away, but Draco had lost all the fire and light from his eyes. No longer were they a bright, happy grey, and no longer was his face struggling to keep its emotionless mask. It was as though Riddle had taken the boy's soul rather than his alligiance.

And as Draco entered his room, filled with the usual toys of a seven-year-old, he knew deep down that he'd almost certainly never get that sweet happiness ever again.

Hey, guys, Author here!

So here's the prologue for the non-magical Mafia AU I came up with the idea for like two days ago.

Two things:

ONE I don't have to give up my school computer, as my parents bought it. So updates still this summer, even if they will be fairly infrequent.

TWO I absolutely adore this story idea so expect many smaller updates instead of fewer large ones. I hope that's okay with everyone.

Trellya