disclaimer: own nothing but oc.
a/n: surprise, surprise, a multi-chaptered fic (this had been bouncing in my head for years). and i'm so rusty it's not even funny.
warnings: more to family stuff here than romance. maybe there will be but i'm doubtful. also, this should not be too long since my motivation dies too easily.
. . .
prologue
there is a place called home
. . .
The front gate is a pitiful sight.
Glum, dark letters of rusting steel are fixed above the entrance. The railings surrounding the orphanage are tall and imposing, though the building itself is much worse. Chipped bricks has its color washed away through the years, and it looms over her, making her uneasy.
She stops and takes a deep breath, relaxing her too tense muscles, then exhaling, long and slowly.
(Why is she feeling this unbearable, pressing nervousness—)
With a single push and a metallic screech, she enters.
. . .
"Tom? Tom Marvolo Riddle, you mean?"
She brightens noticeably (but inwardly flinches) and nods.
"And how are you related…?" Mrs. Cole asks her, hesitantly.
"We are distant cousins. Through his mother's side." She shifts her eyes downward—show remorse, guilt, paint it across your face—and wrings her hands together, biting her lip. "I-I just knew not long ago that she had a son. We don't usually keep in contact due to some…disagreements in the past but," Raising her head, she meets the eyes of the woman, "family is family, no matter what."
Mrs. Cole looks sympathetic now, and nods her head in understanding with a small, sad smile. The suspicion in her posture is seeping away, barely there at all.
(This is good. Loyalty to family has always made people soft. Not all, but enough.)
"I see. Then would you like to meet him?" Suddenly her eyes widen minutely in remembrance, "Oh, but there's also something else…"
"Yes? What is it? …Is he sick?"
"Oh, no, no. It's just—just that there have been strange things happening around him and—"
"Family is family, Mrs. Cole." This is said quietly but perhaps something in her eyes had caused the older woman to pause, "No matter how strange he may be."
"Right." She eases slightly—in relief?—and says, "Alright, Ms. Juniper. Then please follow me."
. . .
A bed, a closet, and a window decorates the room. It is mostly empty but thankfully, she thinks, clean.
And there is an edge to this child that a four year old should not have.
"Who are you?" His voice is small and childlike (was it wrong to have braced herself for some hissing and malevolence?) but under his gaze, she feels scrutinized.
"I am a very distant cousin of yours." She offers him a tentative smile, surprisingly somewhat sincere, "My name is Shannon Juniper."
Tom doesn't react like how most children would have. Somehow, she expected this.
Instead, his eyes narrow further, "If you are family, where have you been all these years?"
(It's somewhat heartbreaking for her to see someone so small to be so cautious and so wary. He is too young.
...even though she had been the same at his age, she's a different case altogether.)
"You may not believe me," she sighs, with something like exasperation, "but I just knew about you recently, Tom. However, well, I am here now aren't I?"
The silence after her question is not as deafening as she thought it would be. And she knows how to patiently wait for the positive response (why would he even think of rejecting her offer?)
"So I'm going with you?" He says, finally, with an odd tinge of hopefulness.
"Yes. You'll be living with me now, Tom. Oh, and my mother. I hope you're alright with this."
"Yes!" He reins in his glee with a flush on his cheeks. "I mean, I would like to…live with you."
She had almost laughed at how innocent he is (she should have known better than to assume that a child would be evil) and she finds that the grin stretching across her face is almost every inch genuine (because she's not that much of a fool). "Great! Then pack up and we'll be going!"
"But—But wait!" Abruptly, the boy seems anxious. It causes her one eyebrow to climb further up her forehead, questioning. "I-I also have something else to tell you." His coal irises sparkles with innocence, doubt and longing. "Sometimes strange things happen around me and I can control it most of the time but—"
"I know." She interrupts softly, carefully, "It's just that you have a very special talent. Do you want to know what it is?"
"What is it?" He is bright with curiosity and anticipation. She finds herself smirking again in amusement.
Leaning in, she whispers into his ear (she refrains herself from chukling as he shifts closer to her) while she lifts her wand in front of him, "Magic."
And she mutters an almost silent lumos under her breath.
. . .
a/n2: so, er, what do you think? and yes, this is a reincarnation semi self-insert plus an adopt tom fic. i'll probably fix this later.
a/n3: i did end up fixing this hah.