A/N: feedback please!
Nicole Miller is an OC, as is the baby in her stomach ;D
December 15, 1936 – Tom Riddle is almost eight years old
A small boy sat on his bed in a small blustery room he shared with two others. The orphanage was not well heated, and their room got bitterly cold during the winter. Now however, Tom did not feel the cold as he sat perched on his bed, kicking his legs impatiently. His mind whirled with confusion as he waited for Mrs. Cole's call. He flopped backwards, tugging at his shirt collar. He had struggled to do up the buttons correctly, feeling immensely proud when he finally succeeded. Now, the collar felt constricting as lump of anticipation built in his throat.
He couldn't believe that today, after years of waiting, someone was coming to see him, and maybe even take him home with them. The thought sent little shivers of joy down his spine, as that had been Tom's dearest wish for as long as he could remember. His mother had died soon after he was born, and for some reason, his father had never come to find him. He had lived in this grim building all his life, and although Mrs. Cole was very kind, and took good care of him, the blankets were somewhat threadbare and the soupy watery. More than anything though, Tom wanted a mother and a father all his own, parents that wanted Tom for his own sake, not for the welfare money they would receive. Twice Tom had been 'adopted', but both times he brought back by the terrified couples, shaking, desperate to be rid of him, and bearing complaints of freakishness.
He had long dreamed of an aunt or an uncle showing up one day, asking for their dear nephew Tom. He longed for someone to love him unconditionally and not for the money, who would hug him when he had nightmares and would keep the bigger boys from picking on him. For a kind, pretty Mummy and a strong, handsome Daddy. So when Mrs. Cole told him that his aunt was coming to see him today, Tom had been understandably excited.
"Tom!" Mrs. Cole called up the stairs, "Your aunt is here!" Tom sat up quickly and tried to flatten his rumpled hair and nervously straightened his now-wrinkled sweater. He scurried out of his room and down the hall, ignoring the angry glares for the other children. They just wish someone was coming to see them, he thought as he took the stairs by twos. Mrs. Cole was waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs, her graying brown hair pulled tightly back in a bun, her hands on her wide hips over the dark grey wool of drab dress. She clucked her tongue at his disheveled appearance.
"Come dearie," she said, smoothing his hair, and pulling the hem of his sweater out of his clenched fist. "She's waiting in the parlor." Tom had never been in the parlor before, and it was a cozy room, if cramped, and filled with somewhat battered looking furniture and fake lace doilies. Tom followed Mrs. Cole over to a comfy-looking couch where a woman sat, smiling at him gently. She was wearing a black wool skirt that fell to mid-calf, a square necked cream colored blouse, and a black cardigan with cream detailing at the cuffs and neckline. There was a long overcoat on the hat tree beside the door. He returned her smile before ducking his head to look at his feet. She's so pretty, he thought what does she want me for? He flashed a quick glance in her direction, saw that she was studying him curiously, and swiftly looked away. Maybe she doesn't want me anyway, he thought despondently, and he began to fidget.
"Miss Miller, may I present to you your nephew, Thomas Marvolo Riddle? Tom, say 'Good afternoon' to your aunt." Mrs. Cole prompted.
"Good afternoon" Tom said quietly, still looking at the floor.
"Good afternoon, Tom. You are doing well, I presume?" Nicole said, watching him as he fidgeted. He was small for his age, she surmised. He looked to be five or six, though she knew his eighth birthday to be two weeks away. Surprisingly, he was tow-headed, (A/N : not sure what his actual hair color was, it was dark brown in the movies and plain brown in the books, but I've heard that children grow out of tow-headed-ness, so his hair will become brown soon enough, no worries!) his hair much lighter than both his father's and his mother's. His eyes were light gray, and shone with an innocence kept carefully guarded within his heart.
"Come, Tom! Don't be shy! Be a good lad and sit down on the chair here." Mrs. Cole seemed slightly bothered by Tom's shyness, and tried to cover it up with a little light conversation, bustling about good naturedly.
"Thank you, Mrs. Cole." Nicole said graciously, still watching her 'nephew'.
"Would you like some tea and biscuits, Miss Miller?" Mrs. Cole asked.
"Yes, please. Could you also bring some for Tom, as well?" Nicole replied. Tom looked up when he heard his name, glancing between her and Mrs. Cole.
"Of course." Mrs. Cole said easily "I'll be right back, dearies." She left the room and hurried to the kitchen, leaving the two alone together. Nicole sighed. The poor boy looked so nervous and uncomfortable, and having no children of her own, she didn't really know how to approach him.
"So Tom, why don't you sit down, and I'll tell you about myself." Nicole suggested. Tom sank into the other end of the couch, still not meeting her eyes." My name is Nicole Miller. I am your mother's half-sister. We had the same father but different mothers." She paused, unsure of how much Tom would understand. "My father was brought up to believe that he and his family were better than those of what they called common blood. My mother was, not good enough for him and well… your grandfather was a very judgmental man, and when my mother got pregnant with his child, well, he disappeared and she never saw him again. She raised me on her own, with the assistance of her family, but recently, after my mother's death, I decided that I ought to try and find my father to see if he – and through him, I - had any other family. A few months ago, I found his home, abandoned, in a village called Little Hangleton. I asked around the village and the baker's wife told me quite a bit. That's when I found out that I had a half sister and brother." As Nicole spoke, Tom leaned forward, obviously entranced by her tale.
She continued, "The village women also told me how my sister, your mother that is, had left with the son of a lord and never returned. The man, Thomas Riddle Senior, who is your father – for you are named after him, returned to the village claiming to have been bewitched by your mother, who was never seen again. I went to speak with your father, but he could tell me little of what happened while he was with your mother. He said that he had left her in a poor section of London, which led me to this area. From what I can guess, Merope came here, gave birth to you but tragically, she passed away only hours after your birth." Tom's eyes narrowed with anger as she spoke of his father and filled with tears at the mention of his mother' death.
"I hate being named after him" Tom said. Nicole sighed and rested a gloved hand on the boys shoulder.
"He is not altogether a bad man, your father. He truly believes that Merope bewitched him, for he remembers nothing between stopping at your mother's house for a drink of water on a hot day, and waking up one morning in a destitute part of London beside a woman he did not love. However, though there is no love lost between Thomas and Merope, he truly regrets leaving her, if only for your sake." Tom appeared bewildered.
"It has been quite difficult to find you, dear boy, but your father has been immensely helpful to me during my search for you. I hope that we – you, me, and your father - can get to know each other better over the next few weeks, while I am having my house prepared for the imminent arrival of a young child." Suddenly nervous, she added "That is, if you wish to live with me."
Tom was in shock. It really was a lot of information to take in at one point. "I am afraid that I am a little confused, Ma'am" he said, looking away from her.
"First of all dear, there's no need to call me Ma'am. Aunt Nicole would be preferable. Secondly, don't be worried. Later, presuming that you do come to live with me, I will have the time to explain everything more slowly and in greater detail."
"But what about my father? Can't I live with him?" Nicole sighed.
"It is not as simple as that, Tom. Your father is a very busy man and he is not ready to have a family. He was very young when you were born, and did not go into any of the planning that most people do when they wish to have a child. He has no idea how to care for children, and his mother is in no state to offer him any advice. He has agreed to support me financially if I bring you to Greater Hangleton, which is where he lives, and care for you there in a Manor of middling size that he recently purchased for this express purpose." As Nicole explained, Tom scooted closer to her on the couch.
"However, even if you don't wish to live with me, I will visit you regularly and everything will be sorted out then. Does that help?" Nicole's heart went out to the boy, who was looking at her with excitement and hope shining in his eyes.
"Do you really mean it, Ma'am?" At her look he grimaced. "I mean, Aunt Nicole, do you really want me to come live with you? In your home?"
"Well, where else would you live? In a barn?" Nicole laughed. "Yes, I would like it very much if you would come to live with me. My house is going to be so large and empty with just me in it. I hope to have a large family one day, and you, my dear, are the first step towards that." Nicole's hand settled on her gently bulging stomach.
"And anyways, I am going to have a baby soon, but my husband is dead, and I will need a man in the house to keep me and the baby safe." Nicole teased gently, happy to see the light flush on the boy's otherwise pale face.
"Would you be willing to do that for me, Tom? Will you come live with me?"
The next thing she knew, his thin arms were wrapping around her, carefully avoiding her baby bump, and his face was pressed against her side.
"Yes, yes, I would love to come live with you!" Looking up at her, he said "I've always dreamed of having an aunt who came to the orphanage to take me to live with her! You're like a dream come true!" Tom's eyes were shining, and Nicole pulled him onto her lap, and into a big hug. He sighed and buried his face in her neck. Nicole was absently rubbing circles on his back, when she felt him begin to shake. She didn't know what was happening until she felt his tears falling on her neck. She hugged him closer, trying to convey comfort to the small boy, and he clutched at her neck in return. After a couple minutes his sobs quieted and he pulled back, looking down and rubbing at his eyes, shoulders hunched.
"What's wrong Tommy?" She asked softly, running her fingers through his hair. When he didn't answer, she placed two fingers under his chin and made him look at her. His eyes were puffy and red with tears, and he sniffed a few times.
"Can you tell me what the matter is, sweetheart?"
"It's just... I've wanted a family for such a long time, and now you're here, and you're really my family, and it hurts, just here, in my chest." Tom pressed thin fingers over his heart and Nicole pressed a gentle kiss to the top of his head before placing him on the couch just to her right and cradling him to her side.
"There's a good boy Tom, chin up."
"So!" Mrs. Cole said loudly, bustling into the room carrying the tea tray. Tom jumped out of Nicole's arms and swiped at his eyes. Nicole flushed slightly, and Mrs. Cole's eyes were somewhat glassy. She must have heard that whole thing, Nicole thought, a little embarrassed. Mrs. Cole set out the teacups and poured hot tea into them.
"Cream? Sugar?" she asked.
"Cream please, Mrs. Cole. And you, Tom? What would you like in your tea?" Nicole replied.
"Um, just some sugar please" he said timidly.
"And a biscuit?"
"Yes please, Mrs. Cole" (Nicole was pleased to note that he had excellent manners.) Tom said, glancing at her, seemingly searching for permission. Nicole inclined her head a little and took a sip of her tea. Tom settled himself next to her, and looking at him, Nicole felt her heart ache. It was clear that he boy did not get enough affection in his life, and although Mrs. Cole was in no way mean or cruel to the children, there was no way she was able to properly care for every child, and a boy like Tom, who was quiet and unassuming, didn't attract enough attention.