Father and Daughter

By

Miracle Angel Summers (Celena Lupin)

Summary: It was a late Summer night when the cries of a woman in pain echoed around the house. A man downstairs winced slightly but his face remained cold. He was finally getting his heir, not matter what.

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters. Wish I did. I could have so much fun.

Rating: G

Beta: Robyn

Author's Note: Unless have a have a big muse for this, there won't be another chapter. Maybe a sequel, don't know. Also this is a drabble, so it's meant to be short

It was a late summer night when the cries of a woman in pain echoed around the house. A man downstairs winced slightly but his face remained cold. He was finally getting his heir, no matter what.

The labour had begun at noon and was still growing strong. The Healer that had been hired was becoming concerned, doubting that the woman would make it through the night. All the Healer could do was pray and hope this woman would make it.

She didn't want to think what the Master of the house would do if he didn't get his heir. The year was 1960 and even though he was only 34, he was in his prime in the Wizarding world of England.

He paced the living room, his black shoes making a slight sound against the wooden floor. The room itself was cold, dark and anyone who entered it couldn't help but shiver.

An hour later, the Healer came downstairs and bowed her head. "My lord, your heir has arrived." The man stood up and walked over to the Healer, raising an eyebrow. "And of the girl?"

His voice was cold and distant, clearly showing he wanted to know but also stating he didn't really care. "She…she has lost a lot of blood. She won't make it."

He nodded and pursed his lips a little, "Bring my heir here." With that he turned around and walked back to the fire, starring down at the fire. He listened to the woman leave and head upstairs. Deep down inside his black heart, he knew he hadn't received a boy.

But that didn't matter. A girl could even be more useful. He crosses his arms and looked up at the painting of the Slytherin Founder. He closed his eyes and waited for a moment before turning around.

There was the Healer, a bundle cradled in her arms. "My lord, here's your daughter." His cold eyes looked over the baby and raised an eyebrow. "Red hair, obviously from her mother. What of her eyes though?"

"She hasn't opened her eyes yet, my lord", the Healer sighed. Gathering her things, "May I take my leave, now?" He nodded and took his child, wrinkling his nose a little. The Healer left and he sat down in his chair, as soon as he did his daughter opened her eyes.

Green. Dark green but almond shaped.

"Hmm, lovely colour. Slyerthin colour. But what to call you?"

After pondering after many moments, his voiced called out, "Lily. Lily Erised Riddle."

The man smiled; something that was very rare and his green eyes looked at the painting. "My lord, meet my daughter. The last Riddle, heir and daughter of Lord Voldemort...Tom Riddle."