Ride or Die
Summary: The Death Eaters are an outlaw motorcycle club run by Tom Riddle, a notoriously ruthless leader who gradually works the brotherhood into high stakes criminal activity after the death of their previous president. Draco Malfoy is heir to the throne, but his life abruptly changes when fate lands him in the hands of a young doctor who is about to get in way over her head. Dramione, Muggle AU.
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. Credit where credit is due, Joanne Rowling.
A/N: This story is an expansion of my one shot of the same name from my Amortentia short story collection. It will contain excerpts from the original one shot (including this introduction), but will be mostly new material. A note: the content of this story includes a great deal of explicit language and violence, more so than some of my other works. Please note that I don't personally condone the behavior in this story (particularly gun violence), and this is entirely a work of fiction.
The first chapter is largely a prelude to the story, so will be a bit shorter than future installments. Thank you for reading! Here we go.
Chapter 1: Death Eaters
"This is fucking insane," Theo muttered, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned against the wall. "Dumbledore never had us do shit like this."
"Relax," Draco told him, looking up as a car drove by. Not them. "Dumbledore didn't exactly pay out, either." He kicked out one foot, crossing it over the other. "No risk, no reward."
"I'm not going to fucking relax," Theo countered roughly, raking a hand through his hair. The tattoo on his wrist was stark against his pale skin. "This is bullshit, Draco. Who the fuck are we meeting?"
"Theo," Draco warned, giving him a cautionary glance. It went unnoticed.
"Riddle's a fucking lunatic," Theo continued, scowling. "Fucking guns and shit - this is not our game," he growled, slamming his hand on the trunk of the Impala they rarely used. "I didn't fucking sign up to die today."
After a week, it was becoming a tired argument.
"Theo," Draco repeated coolly, shading his eyes from the afternoon sun, "shut the fuck up."
Theo grunted his opposition to this idea, but as expected, he did as he was bade. Hierarchy demanded it.
Besides, Draco was fucking right.
"There," Draco said, jutting his chin out to reference the approaching car; it was an XLR that looked more than a little out of place pulling behind a warehouse. "Fuckers," he added under his breath, shaking his head. "Incognito apparently doesn't mean what it used to."
Theo said nothing, swallowing uneasily as the front passenger got out of the car, taking a wary look around before strutting towards them. The man, large-set and tall, was thoroughly bearded and fully overdressed, clad in a dark suit and even darker sunglasses. He offered them both a stiff nod, his grey hair slicked back from his face.
"Malfoy?" he called gruffly, glancing between Draco and Theo.
"Me," Draco replied, stepping forward. "Greyback?"
"Call me Fenrir," the other man confirmed, bearing his teeth as he smiled. "My associates," he added, gesturing to the two heavily muscled men behind him. "Scabior," he said, nodding to the larger of the two, "and Smith."
"Pleasure," Draco offered smoothly, then tilted his head, nodding to Theo. "This is Nott."
"Nott," Fenrir repeated, his brow furrowing in confusion. He glanced questioningly at Scabior, who shrugged, flashing his employer a look of open skepticism. "Thought he was older."
"Nott Junior," Theo clarified stiffly. The muscle twitched uneasily around his jaw.
Fenrir raised an eyebrow, turning back to Draco. "I take it you are Malfoy Junior, then," he said, and Draco detected something leery in his tone; insult, he suspected.
"We're better company than our fathers," Draco offered, unfazed. "Tom did you a favor."
Fenrir considered him a moment, eyes narrowed; Draco refused to back down, staring back until the other man suddenly laughed, clapping his hands together in a bewildering, wholly incongruous expression of delight.
"Too true," Fenrir determined gravely. "So." He raised a hand, beckoning with one hand. "Show me what Tom has for me."
Draco nodded expectantly at Theo, who popped open the trunk.
"Take a look," Draco invited, stepping aside. "Sample only. Full shipment in a week, if you're interested."
"Naturally," Fenrir agreed, grinning wolfishly again. He sifted through the trunk's contents and picked up the M16, peering over the barrel.
"Hey, man," Theo muttered uneasily, garnering a disapproving glance from Scabior and Smith. "Maybe don't fucking wave that shit around."
Fenrir glanced up, eyeing him. "This shit hot?" he asked suspiciously, turning to Draco. "This one looks scared," he added mockingly, using the rifle to gesture to Theo's stiff-shouldered form.
"That's just his face," Draco supplied, glaring at Theo the instant Fenrir turned back to the trunk. It was harder now to keep his cool; it hadn't occurred to him to ask Riddle if the guns they were selling happened to be stolen.
Theo was right. Dumbledore never had us do shit like this.
He should've asked.
Fenrir looked up, gesturing for his two companions. They crowded around him on either side, and Theo slowly inched towards Draco.
"This doesn't look good," Theo whispered.
"I fucking know that," Draco hissed. "Fucking calm down."
Theo's frown deepened. "Maybe we should get them to move," he suggested, gesturing to where Smith and Scabior were flanking Fenrir, blocking his motions from sight. "I don't like this."
"Sure, Theo, just fucking ask nicely," Draco muttered sarcastically, imitating him. "Please be so kind as to show us your goddamn hands - "
"Hey," Fenrir grunted brusquely, turning. He now held a pistol and was eyeing it closely; too closely, Draco thought, hearing the telling clicks from either side of him as Scabior and Smith drew their weapons. "You got rules on sampling the merchandise?"
Draco swallowed, trying to remain calm. "Could grab some targets," he offered, feigning ignorance. "Nothing if not hospitable," he added, reaching slowly for the Glock tucked into his waistband.
"Don't fucking move," Scabior muttered ominously, his eyes flicking to Draco's hand. "We already know these guns work."
"Love a knowledgeable customer," Theo offered weakly; Draco shot him a silencing glare. Not helpful.
"Ask us how we know," Fenrir suggested, beckoning to them with an unsettlingly assured condescension. "Go on," he taunted. "Ask."
Fuck, Draco thought, searching for a way out of what was a rapidly deteriorating situation and coming up thoroughly empty-handed. Fuck, fuck, fuck -
"How do you know?" he finally gritted out, bereft of options and struggling to breathe.
Fenrir aimed the Beretta at him, his full beard shifting slightly to accommodate a crooked smile. "These guns are fucking stolen," he remarked flatly, and Draco's stomach lurched. "Tell Riddle I want his head," Fenrir added with a laugh, right before he pulled the trigger.
One Week Earlier
Draco Malfoy woke up slowly, the haze of the previous night's foray into misbehavior gradually clearing as he lifted his head, squinting at the head of dark hair beside him.
"Astoria," he muttered, nudging her. "Get up."
She groaned, rubbing sleep and several layers of smeared mascara from her eyes. "Come on, Draco - "
"You know the deal," he said, kicking the bedding away from him and standing to pull on a shirt. "You weren't supposed to stay here last night. Or any night," he added, giving her a look.
She made a face. "That's bullshit, Draco," she said, emitting a loud squeak of protest as he reached over, tossing the comforter away from her and into a pile of tangled sheets at the foot of the bed. "You don't have to be such a fucking dick - "
"Last night was a mistake," he interrupted, and she smirked.
"All three times?" she asked, reaching for him. She, he was not overly pleased to note, was still naked from the night before. "Come on, babe - "
"Don't 'babe' me," he said gruffly, shoving her hands away as she reached for the band of his boxer briefs. "This is exactly what I said can't fucking happen again, Astoria."
"What's the big deal?" she protested, tugging him by the collar. "Come on," she purred, sliding her hands under his shirt to run them over the Malfoy crest tattooed on his chest. "We could be good together, Draco - you know we could - "
"We already fucking tried this," he reminded her with a sigh, fighting to ignore the twitch of his cock as she let her fingers trace the crevices of his abs. "It didn't work."
"Mmm, are you sure?" she asked, lifting his shirt and tearing it over his head, peeling it from the tattooed slopes of his arms as he sighed. "I'm not just free pussy, Draco - "
"And this is your way of proving it?" he countered, closing his eyes as she kissed his neck, dipping her hand into his underwear and giving his cock a languid stroke. "Not totally convincing, Astoria."
"I'm just saying," she said, bringing herself to the edge of the bed so that she was nearly at eye level with his cock, "that I think you might find I'm worth more than the occasional lay."
"Bold," he murmured, his breath escaping in a low hiss as she leaned in, letting her tongue drift over his tip. "Let me guess," he ventured, tangling his fingers in her dark hair as she glanced up, making a show of trailing her tongue along his shaft. "You need money?"
She drew back, huffing in insult. "I'm not a fucking prostitute, Draco - "
"What, then?" he asked, raising a single brow as she scowled at him. "Pretty sure you know I'm not settling down with you anytime soon."
She sighed, licking her lips before letting her eyes settle again on his cock. "Would it really be so bad," she offered softly, dipping to circle his tip with her tongue before glancing up at him, "having me around all the time?"
"It's" - he broke off, swallowing as she took his full length in her mouth - "more complicated than that."
"Is it?" she prompted, her eyes wide as she reached down, wrapping her fist around his shaft and slowly letting her hand slide along his length. "Seems pretty simple to me," she remarked, taking him in her mouth again.
"Astoria," he began, but her name dissolved into a growl; his fingers tightened in her hair as she wrapped her lips around his cock, expertly flicking her tongue beneath the underside of his tip.
There was no going anywhere with this, he knew; but as with the previous night, her determination to suck him off was far more compelling than his desire to kick her out. He adjusted his stance, kicking his legs apart and closing his eyes, and had just reached down to lightly flick her hardened nipple when he heard his front door suddenly burst open, the sound of heavy footsteps falling inside his apartment.
"Draco," he heard Theo call, "get your ass out here, you fuckstick."
Fuck, Draco thought, nudging Astoria's head away and tucking his dick back into his underwear as Theo suddenly burst in the doorway, prompting Astoria to squeal and duck for the blankets.
"Morning," Draco said, offering him a lazy salute, and Theo rolled his eyes.
"Get dressed," he said, unfazed by Draco's partial state of dress. "Your dad called. Riddle's looking for us."
"Lucius called you?" Draco repeated, confused. "Why not me?"
Theo shrugged. "Said he tried reaching you," he offered, his eyes traveling mockingly to where Astoria had pulled the twisted sheet up over her breasts. "I'd guess you were otherwise occupied," he ventured mockingly, gesturing to the g-string that hung from the corner of Draco's dresser.
"A bit," Draco agreed, tugging uncomfortably at his still-stiff cock. "But I can be ready in ten." He glanced at Astoria, whose nipples were evident through the thin white sheet. "Maybe fifteen," he amended, and Theo chuckled.
"Have at it," Theo said obligingly, backing out of the room and pausing just before shutting the door. "I'll give a shout in about seven," he added with a wink, and Draco threw a pillow at him, just missing his head as he pulled the door closed.
"Sorry," Draco said, returning his attention to Astoria and reaching for her. "Where were we?"
She frowned. "Seven minutes?" she repeated skeptically, and he smirked, his eyes sweeping briskly over her as he tugged his underwear off, climbing onto the bed.
He took advantage of her momentary hesitation and deftly flipped her onto her stomach, yanking her hips back and towards him before nudging his cock against her entrance, shifting his hand to slide against her clit.
"Believe me," he said, giving her hair a firm tug with his free hand, "we'll be done in five."
"Thought you were done fucking old girlfriends," Theo commented offhandedly, swinging a leg over his Harley and removing his helmet.
"Old habits," Draco said, shrugging. "She resurfaces every now and then."
"Suppose it could be worse," Theo permitted with a smirk.
"You've certainly done worse," Draco assured him.
Theo sighed dramatically. "We can't all be the Malfoy prince," he said mournfully, nudging Draco in the ribs.
"Fuck you," Draco said instantly, just as Darian Mulciber walked by, Crabbe and Goyle at his side. "Hey, Mulciber," Draco called, raising his chin in greeting, "you seen my dad?"
"In with Tom," Darian replied, jerking his head to gesture inside. "Clubhouse."
"Thanks." Draco turned to Theo, raising a brow curiously. "Speaking of dads - "
"Still bedridden," Theo replied indifferently. "Still sneaking in cigarettes, too, so I have to assume he enjoyed the surgery the first time and is looking for a fucking second go."
"Old habits," Draco remarked sagely, and Theo shook his head, aiming a careless "whatever" into the ground as he spat out his disgust.
They walked inside in silence, nodding casually to Avery and Rowle, before striding purposefully through the familiar double doors.
"Draco," Lucius called, rising as they entered the boardroom.
Draco nodded at him. "Dad," he offered, before turning to face Riddle, who sat, as he always did, at the head of the table. "Tom."
"Draco," Tom said smoothly, nudging his dark hair back. "And Theo, excellent. Sit."
They did as they were bade, Draco settling himself next to his father as Theo crossed the room, seating himself across the table. They created a stunning contrast in the room, Draco thought, imagining how the four of them might have looked to an outsider. He and his father were both pale-haired and light-eyed; of similar height, and firmer builds. Tom, on the other hand, looked slight and oddly elegant in the dim lighting of the room, his dark hair falling in age-resistant waves. Tom Riddle was a man with a strange appeal, Draco knew, but a powerful one; whether it was looks alone, Draco couldn't tell, but Tom certainly commanded a room and Theo, equally dark-haired and slim, sat tellingly in Tom's shadow.
"So," Draco ventured, leaning forward. "You needed something?"
"As you know," Lucius began, glancing between them, "things have been somewhat chaotic since Dumbledore passed."
Draco nodded, as did Theo.
"Things are . . . somewhat precarious," Lucius continued. "Financially. Which," he added, "has prompted the need for a certain level of creativity on our part."
"Something other than auto repair and casual anarchy, I'm guessing," Theo commented, and Lucius, who had never appreciated Theo's particular brand of candidness, scowled.
"A bit more than that," he sniffed testily in agreement, glancing at Tom for reassurance.
"I've had to look into other sources of income," Tom supplied, the smooth timbre of his voice resonating within the dark walls of the room. "Luckily, we're a brotherhood of many talents and capabilities," he added, giving Draco a tiny nod of approval. "Some of which include the particular . . . persuasiveness that I think will aid us in our business ventures."
"Persuasiveness," Draco commented. "Us?"
"You," Tom confirmed briskly. "Unless you have reason to believe I'm mistaken."
The praise, which was a rarity - and one that had come sparingly from Dumbledore - struck a particularly pleasing chord in Draco. "You're not," he said confidently, and Lucius nodded his approval.
"I rarely am," Tom agreed.
Right, Draco thought with a smirk. Of course not.
"I need to set you two up on a project," Tom continued, his rings flashing as he drummed his fingers absentmindedly against the skull-and-snake emblem that was carved into the table. "An enticement for a potential future client."
"Sounds fancy," Theo remarked drily, pointedly ignoring the instant blow of Lucius's impatient glare. "Who is it?"
"Fenrir Greyback," Tom replied, though he quickly refocused his attention on Draco. "I've been working on making a connection with his camp. He's - " Tom paused, dragging his tongue slowly across his lip, "an entrepreneur, one might say."
Draco stifled a laugh. "Entrepreneur?" he echoed skeptically. "Are we selling him bike parts?"
There was a pause. That's a no, then, Draco gathered, waiting.
"Well," Tom offered silkily, "we all traffic in our particular varieties of commerce."
"Drugs?" Draco prompted alternatively, lifting one brow. Beside him, Lucius shot him a silencing glance, shaking his head in warning.
"Oh, Draco," Tom said with a laugh. "Surely you'd prefer the details be left to me."
I fucking would not, Draco wanted to say, but the visible tightening of his father's fingers around the arm of his chair served sufficient to stop his tongue.
"I'll need you to meet him at some point in the future," Tom continued. "I've got some things to pull together before then, but I need to make sure you'll be ready when the time comes." His blue eyes fixed intently on Draco's. "Are we clear?"
"Sounds important," Draco remarked wryly. "Anything more I should know about?"
Tom considered him a moment before answering. "Draco," he finally tsked softly, "do you really think I wouldn't give you all the information you needed?"
At the telling non-answer, Draco exchanged a glance with Theo, who shifted uncomfortably.
"Just being clear," Draco offered smoothly, kicking his legs out under the table and sliding down in his seat. "You want us to meet with Greyback," he clarified, "and then - ?"
"Meet him," Lucius asserted, "woo him, and - "
"Make a loyal customer of him," Tom finished, rolling a kink out of his neck before refocusing his attention on Draco. "Show him that the future of this club is something worth investing in," he added, offering Draco an unsettlingly omniscient smile.
The future of this club, Draco thought, finding the idea disquieting. "Do you mean us," he began, looking across the table at Theo, "or the 'product'?"
Tom shrugged. "One and the same, in the end," he said opaquely, and across the table, Theo made a face.
"This seems like an awful lot of fucking pretense for a bunch of bike mechanics," Theo commented, intently avoiding Lucius's disapproving glance.
"Yes, this is a slightly different venture," Tom agreed, scarcely sparing him a glance. "Dumbledore's untimely departure has served unpleasant, though not entirely luckless in timing." He looked up, giving Draco another distressing look. "We have to explore a variety of means from whatever opportunities arise. For the good of the club," he added, as a hazy afterthought.
"For the good of the club," Draco repeated slowly, and beside him, Lucius nodded.
"It's about creating a sustainable source of income for us into the future," Lucius said, his tone faintly robotic. "Something to keep us going."
"Again, this sounds like something beyond the sign on the door that says 'Harley repair,'" Theo interjected brusquely. "What exactly is this mysterious source of income that's so sustainable?"
A brief flash of irritation appeared in Tom's eyes, causing Draco a moment of alarm; but just as quickly as it had appeared, it faded, the slow smile creeping back over Tom's face.
"Theodore," he broached slowly, his voice oddly hushed. "Hostile today, are we?"
Draco inhaled sharply, hearing something in Tom's voice that he couldn't put a finger on; Theo clearly caught it too, his shoulders stiffening to the slightest possible degree.
"I'd hate to think you're somehow displeased with my leadership," Tom commented, the honeyed tone of his words dripping leisurely from his tongue. "You are committed to the well being of the Death Eaters, are you not?"
"I am," Theo said loudly, and despite Draco's silent plea for him to hold his tongue, he continued. "But - "
"I hardly think that you intend to challenge my authority," Tom prompted with a laugh, and at Theo's startled hesitation, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "Not to worry," Tom said reassuringly, and then smiled. "Oh, but by the way," he began quietly, as though he'd suddenly remembered something, "how's your father doing? Still breathing, I hope," he added, eyes flashing, "despite the trouble I know you've had with his health insurance."
There was a silent breath of pause around the table as Tom tapped his fingers lightly against the table. "Nearly lapsed, didn't it?" he asked, as though the conversation topic had not drastically changed.
"Yes," Theo managed, swallowing. "He was about to be transferred, but then - "
"But then he wasn't," Tom said brightly, snapping his fingers in recollection. "Amazing, isn't it," he murmured, "how things just . . . work themselves out?"
"Yes," Theo whispered, lowering his head.
"I'd hate for things to become . . . difficult for you," Tom remarked thoughtfully, bringing a hand up to cup his chin. "Truly, I'd hate to see a fellow Death Eater in any sort of" - he paused, his eyes flicking first to Draco, and then back to Theo - "pain."
This time, Theo said nothing.
"Well then," Tom erupted suddenly, slapping a palm against the table before turning back to Draco. "I'm sorry, bit of a tangent," he remarked buoyantly, with a stunning effortlessness, as though no threat had been made. "Did you have any remaining questions?"
Draco, who had been holding his breath, blinked. "I - "
He glanced at Theo's bent head; met Lucius's warning glare.
"No," he determined faintly, and Tom nodded his approval.
"Wonderful," Tom said, his eyes narrowing to slits as he smiled.
"Fuck," Theo said, opening the trunk.
"Guns," Draco sighed, shaking his head.
"Guns," Theo agreed, looking sick. He turned, leaning against the open trunk. "Gotta add small-time arms dealer to the resume, I guess."
"Small-time might be an understatement," Draco remarked, sifting through the familiar pistols to reveal a series of military grade assault rifles. "This is some fucking heavy artillery."
"Shit," Theo said, nudging Draco aside to look for himself. "Fuck, Draco - "
"It's not that bad," Draco cut in, nudging Theo back and slamming the trunk shut. "All we have to do is get that Greyback guy interested. Easy," he added, with more confidence than he felt. "Just like any other client."
"This isn't just some sales pitch, Draco," Theo sputtered, staring at him in disbelief. "These are fucking guns - "
"We're just selling a product to a client," Draco reminded him. "That's it." He gave Theo a nudge to the ribs, attempting to be soothing. "Just - a transfer of goods, that's all."
Theo sighed, shaking his head. "You were always fucking blessed with compartmentalization," he commented sulkily, crossing his arms over his chest.
"It's fine," Draco assured him again, rolling his sleeves up to the dragon tattoo that wrapped around his forearm. "What's the worst that could happen?"
He felt a lurch as soon as he said it.
"Famous last words," Theo muttered, as they moved to climb into the car.
a/n: Next chapter - Dr. Hermione Granger is about to have a really, really long shift at the hospital.