I do not own Harry Potter.
WANDERLUST
CH 1
COLDEST WINTER
It was often said that women were prettier when pregnant. Martha Cole couldn't bare to think of what Merope Riddle must have looked like before she had gotten this way. The girl dressed in woman's clothing had tentatively knocked on the door of Wool's Orphanage as if she didn't quite know what it was.
Only one boring, brown eye seemed to make direct eye contact. Her left eye was left whirling around looking at what God-knows-what. Her pale skin was covered in layers of dust and grime, as if she had been living on the streets for an indefinite amount of time. She was unfortunately skinny; her cheeks were sunken in and gaunt and her eyes held a hollow look about them. Martha had no doubt that her smile was, perhaps, one of her worst features.
Even as her thin, cracked lips barely moved - Martha could see the yellowed stains as if they were gold and many were either chipped or missing. She felt a shiver crawl down her spine. She could never understand why people let their teeth go that way but she had a feeling that Mrs. Riddle had no choice in the matter.
"P-pardon, Ma'am." Mrs. Riddle spoke out between her clenched jaw. "But is this the orphange?"
"Yes." Martha said softly as she swiftly tied her robe. The knock had sounded anxious and needy and the thought of a child being outside on such a cold night; it had filled her with dread. But at first glance, Martha realized that it wasn't just a child. There was only one are of fat on Mrs. Riddle's body and it was concentrated at her stomach and there was a sickeningly huge bulge that poked out. Martha had helped deliver a few babies but never had she attained such a disturbed feeling as she had when looking at the sac. That's what it felt like as if the bulge had taken over Mrs. Riddle's body and had left her weak and without nourishment.
"Good." Mrs. Riddle said weakly and without her bare, blackened feet seemed to hold her no longer and she crumpled to the ground. She was dressed in scraps of cloth. Her feet were swollen and there were at least a dozen of puffed up, puss-filled cuts. It was enough to turn Martha's stomach. She gagged but pushed through as pity filled her heart more than revulsion. Quickly, she scrambled to lift the younger woman up and pull her inside the warm building.
Mrs. Riddle looked up weakly at the ceiling before her. "I'm af-afraid, I have gone into labor." The way she spoke seemed broken, almost. Her accent was tangy and twisted and it was unlike anything Martha had ever heard before.
"How long?" Martha asked worriedly. "How long have you been in labor?"
"Since six this afternoon." Mrs. Riddle said. It was around nine now and the snow had begun to fill the streets once more. It was said to be the coldest night of the year, which was fitting, considering it was New Year's.
Martha leaned down. "Do you think you can pull yourself up? We have some nice warm beds. You can't very well give birth on the floor."
"It hurts."
"Oh, love, I know it hurts. But it's going to hurt a lot more if you're not comfortable." Martha's maternal instincts kicked through as she grasped Mrs. Riddle from under her arms and slowly lifted her up as much as she could. Mrs. Riddle gulped as she moved her feet. It about killed her to move but Martha guided her into the room designed for exactly this.
Mrs. Riddle wasn't the first of her kind to come knocking at Wool's Orphanage. In Martha's mind, that was the only thing Mrs. Riddle could be: a woman of the night. She couldn't see any sensible man letting himself love a woman who looked as Mrs. Riddle did. Certainly, Martha would never be able to do it.
It was only the second room down the hall. It had everything Martha would need and it had access to a bathroom where she could draw in some warm water. It was the only warm water they would be able to get in a night like this. It certainly wouldn't be the most comfortable labor a woman would endure, but a warm bed would have to be enough.
Martha managed to place Mrs. Riddle beneath the covers and she leaned back out of the hall and left to get someone to help her. She managed to drag forward one of the older girls who was around fourteen. She had assisted her before as well. "Now, Alice. Make no fun of her appearance. Understand." Martha whispered swiftly as she drug the tired, confused girl into the room. "Pull back her covers, check her. We need to make sure to know when the real labor begins?"
"The real labor?"
"Remember, when the baby starts to come." Martha said informatively. "Right, now, she's probably experiencing mild contractions. Tell me how many centimenters she is apart."
Alice creeped over to Mrs. Riddle, whose eyes were shut. "Miss," Alice said. "Miss, I need you to wake up. I have to check you."
"Check me?" Mrs. Riddle murmured.
"Yes." Alice pulled back the covers. "I need you to-", Alice blushed. "I need you to spread your legs so I can check to see how much you're dialated, for the birth."
Mrs. Riddle's eyes widened as a blush appeared on her cheek as well. She looked down and shifted her legs apart. She slid up her dress and Alice helped her remove her underwear. Alice squinted her eyes and checked. "Three centimeters." She said over her shoulder at Martha, who was gathering warm towels.
"Three centimeters? We have a long night ahead of us, Alice."
And long night it was. The clock ticked from eight to ten to eleven. It was nearing twelve when the pain really began and it was time for the birth. Martha had learned that Mrs. Riddle supposedly had a husband and that he was merely away for work. Of course, she didn't believe it. There was no way Merope could have ever gotten married. It wasn't even that she was too ugly, she was far too odd as well. She seemed to be uncomfortable with the very idea of existence.
"Are you prepared?" Martha said to Mrs. Riddle. She shook her head and closed her eyes as she let out a long moan of pain. "You're going to be a mummy. All will be well, soon. I just need you to start pushing. You have to help the child come through. Alice, get the towls. Dab at her face a little bit."
"I-I don't want to push."
"You're going to have to or it'll be worse for the both of you."
"I-" Mrs. Riddle shook her head as she clenched. She was cooperating. Martha eyed the scene before her with a feeling of sadness. Mrs. Riddle was far too skinny for anything like this. She was half-starved and it was miraculous she had been able to carry her child to full term. She had an awfully heavy feeling that Mrs. Riddle was going to die. She had an equally tiring feeling that Mrs. Riddle was as much aware of this as Martha.
The night carried on. The actual birth was much quicker than the long, enduring labor. As soon as the head was seen, it was easy from there. Martha grabbed the infant gently with the warm towel and the screams broke through and seemed to break the tense atmosphere. "It's a boy." Martha said as she handed him to Alice who quickly cut the cord and cleaned him off.
Alice brought the baby forward and Mrs. Riddle leaned her eyes to look at him. They were glazed over as she exhaled softly. "Tom." She said. "Tom Marvolo Riddle, after his father." She then squeezed her eyes shut as she groaned in pain again.
Martha checked her again and saw something that made her eyes widen dramatically. "Twins." She said. "Mrs. Riddle, you're having twins."
"Twins?"
"Two. You're having two babies. Not one!"
"Two." Mrs. Riddle said weakly.
Alice looked down. "Stay awake, Mrs. Riddle. Don't go to sleep now, you've come too far."
"Push." Martha and Alice encouraged. Mrs. Riddle let out a tired scream as she lost almost all will to live. She heaved as she felt as though the world was sinking in on her.
"I can't do it." She said. "I can't. I'm so tired."
"PUSH!" Martha said and Mrs. Riddle gave a slight shove before her eyes fluttered shut and they wouldn't open again. "Get me the knife!" Martha said. She didn't want it to have to come to this but she knew she would have had to use it. Mrs. Riddle was way too weak to give birth. She quickly aimed as she slid the lower womb open and dug through the dying entrails. She found the child almost immediately. She pulled him out and Alice cut the cord. Martha wrapped him up in a warm, wet towel as she wiped at him. He began to cry much like his brother.
Alice had sat him in a small cot.
"Another boy." Martha said. She looked at the woman on the bed.
"She never even got to name him." Alice murmured.
Martha rocked the boy as she thought of a name. "John Edward. After my late husband."
"That's a nice name, Mrs. Cole." Alice said approvingly. "What an odd name his older brother has. Tom Marvolo? Marvolo? Where did she come up with such a name?"
Martha shook her head. "I have no idea."
They were both pretty babies, but as Martha looked on, she found that they were pretty in an entirely identical manner. She only hoped she would be able to remember which one was which.
She looked at the clock to record the time of his birth and then she realized with a shock that it was over twelve at night. Tom had been born five minutes early on December 31, 1926. His brother had been born January 1, 1927. "How odd." She mused. "They were born on different days."
"They were? How...Unique."
"Indeed."