Disclaimer: Not mine. Don't sue

Warnings: mild language

A lone figure hurried down the long pathway towards the large manor in front nestled cozily between some hills. The figure was small, giving them the appearance of someone young, though their face was not visible making both their gender and age unknown. They pulled their cloak tight around their body, attempting to give themselves some cover from the strong wind that was threatening to knock them over.

Lord Tom Marvolo Riddle, known to the larger part of the wizarding world as Lord Voldemort, watched the figure as it hastily made its way towards the manor doors. He had felt the wards be set off long ago, he was a powerful wizard he always knew when someone was on his property, however, he had decided not to do anything about it yet. For whatever reason, the wards registered the person as not just a non-threat, but it welcomed them, letting them passed through entirely unharmed. Tom knew the strength of his wards and the wisdom of magic, and had decided to let what was to happen, happen, and react accordingly. Mother Magic had treated him well when he listened to her.

As the figure got closer to the manor, Tom headed away from his bedroom window and down the stairs in order to prepare to meet his guest.

"Lucius," he called, as he stepped out of the door.

His second in command was by his side in a matter of seconds. "Yes, my lord."

"Lucius, I know it is a change from how deranged I have been in my past years with you, but I do remember when we were friends. Brothers even. Do not call me lord anymore."

Tom hated the Potter brat, he truly did, what that child's parents had done to him and his family had been unforgivable, but he was forever thankful that whatever the brats blood done to reset his sanity. He had been unbelievably cruel to his remaining friends and family in his grief, and something in the ritual in the graveyard had reset all that, once more gifting him with his brilliant mind, as well as a renewed sense of morality.

"Of course my lor… Tom. Of course Tom. It is so strange to have you back." As Lucius said this, a sad smile crossed the publicly stoic man's face. Everyone had a public self, Lucius' was a stone cold mask, but in reality he was a loving family man. One who had been through a lot, and was willing to go through much more in order to ensure the protection and safety of his family.

"I apologize once more for my actions, though I will never be able to truly express my sincere regret for what I did to you." Tom looked down at his feet, a small show of his guilty conscience.

"I understand Tom. What happened affected us all."

"Thank you for your understanding Lucius." Tom placed a hand Lucius' acrumantala silk robe clad shoulders, "Now, we are about to have a guest. Please gather Bellatrix and send her husband to answer the door."

"Guest? Who's coming? I wasn't aware you were planning on meeting anyone today."

"I wasn't," Tom replied. "But the wards have other plans. They permitted someone on to the property and they have almost arrived. I want to see them in the meeting room."

Lucius chuckled. "I shall bring them to the throne room my lord."

Tom's head fell into his palms. "I can't believe I made a throne room during my insane period. How big of a megalomaniac do you have to be to make a fucking throne room? A fucking drama queen."

"Lord Voldemort? A drama queen? The thought never even crossed my mind." Lucius shook his head. "Sir Snake face was one for the dramatics. Anyways, I shall go collect the others and have our guest let it." Lucius long blonde hair flipped over his shoulders as he turned away, his snake topped cane clicking against the floor as he walked.

Tom headed in the other, straight towards the throne room in order to meet his unannounced guest.

It was about ten minutes later, when the doors to the throne room were thrown open. Tom was settled on his chair at the head of the room, arms on the rests, head held high. He watched the figure lead in by Rodolphus Lestrange, flanked by both his wife and Lucius.

The figure was even smaller than he had thought, not even coming to Rodolphus' shoulders, and he wasn't an overly tall man. Probably not even over five feet tall. He tried to think of who it might be based on that information, but there was no one he could think of. The fact that the figures face was still shrouded by the cloak wasn't helping any.

"Let go of me," came the figures soft voice, shaking their shoulder trying to through off Rodolphus' hand. "Please let go of me."

Surprised by the desperation in their voice, Tom nodded at Rodolphus indicating it would be fine to do as the figure asked. As the hand was removed, the figures shoulder's sagged in relief.

"Thank you."

"Who are you?" Tom asked, attempting to get straight to business.

"I must speak to Voldemort. It's important. Please I must see him, I need help."

That was a first, someone seeking out Voldemort. Most avoided Voldemort, even those he considered close at one time or another. Voldemort wasn't someone you went to for help.

It was strange not to be him anymore, to be back to being Tom, old face and all. Hence why his guest couldn't recognize him as Voldemort.

"Who are you, and why do you believe Voldemort will help you?" Tom questioned.

"Please, he's the only one who can protect me. I need to be kept away from Dumbledore. Please, Severus sent me," the figures soft voice grew thick as they began to beg. "Please Severus Snape sent me, Voldemort is the only one strong enough to protect me."

Tom made eye contact with the other in the room. Severus had sent this person? Now it made sense how they had gotten past the wards, Severus had given them the password. But why? They hadn't heard from Severus in weeks, he had been deep undercover in the Order of Phoenix.

"Reveal who you are, and I will bring you to Lord Voldemort."

The figures head dropped towards the ground.

"You have to promise not to hurt me. At least not now. Please. That's all I ask, just hear me out before you hurt me." Their pleading voice was full of emotion.

They were scared, terrified even, and for whatever reason, Tom wanted to listen to them.

"We will not hurt you until we have heard your story. I promise."

The hood clad figure nodded. A small hand peaked out from the cloak, reaching towards the clasp held tightly at the nape of the neck. The loop was quickly unhooked and the cloak fell to the floor.

Tom's mouth gaped, in what he assumed to be an altogether unflattering and definitely not regal fashion.

Standing there, short messy black hair lightly brushing her shoulders, green eyes wide and wet with tears, was Roselyn James Potter.

That in itself was shocking enough, but the state she was in added another level.

The dropping of her cloak had not only revealed the girl herself, but a big reason she might have been terrified of being hurt.

As her delicate hand dropped from her neck, it was placed delicately upon the young teen girl's stomach.

She was pregnant.