Saturday had, quite some time ago, become his favorite day of the week. Why? No classes, no particular need to show up to the Great Hall for meals and only the rare Prefect's round to worry about. This one in particular saw Tom once again hold up in the Room of Requirement, this time alone as Abraxas had again returned home to visit his parents, curled up on the bed with The Tales of Beedle the Bard open in his hands.

"'The three witches and knight set off down the hill together, arm in arm, and all four led long and happy lives, and none of them ever suspected that the fountain's waters carried no enchantment at all.'" He closed the book with a slight frown, gently rubbing his swollen stomach as he propped himself further against the headboard of the other. "Rather pro Muggle, though not entirely distasteful given the reality of what keeping too much to such a small community as ours could cause. And I suppose it would be bad parenting to read you the surely heavily edited Pure-Blood edition when you're still so young. That will have to wait until you're of an age where it won't cause nightmares." Nightmares were precisely the reason he wouldn't be reading Toadstool Tales to his son either. Ever. No one needed to much saccharine imagery so far as he was concerned.

As much as he would have liked to remain in the Room of Requirement for the remainder of the day the only thing the room couldn't provide was food and drink-a law of magic, sadly-and he'd need a glass of water if he was to continue reading the rest of the stories contained in The Tales of Beedle the Bard to his son. A trip to the kitchens wouldn't take over long, so Tom supposed that there was sadly nothing for it.

Reapplying his glamours with careful precision before leaving the room he set a course towards the portion of the dungeons where the entrance to the kitchens was hidden but barely made it down the first staircase before his vision was obscured by red-lined robes and blonde hair.

"Riddle, there you are! I've been looking all over the bloody school for you! Might I ask where you were on the Express if not in the Prefect's car where you should have been as Head Boy?"

Tom blinked, recovered from his surprise quickly, and then raised an eyebrow. "Minerva," he said coolly, "might I ask why I'm only being interrogated about this now? That was months ago."

"I simply didn't have the time or opportunity to bring it up prior to now. Your company is hardly pleasant, after all, unless one enjoys tormenting younger students and being ordered around like servants." She thrust a slip of paper into his face. "I was sent to deliver this to you; you're wanted in the Headmaster's office. Immediately. I was not informed as to why, but there is a Healer waiting for you."

Tom looked up from the note with a start, wide eyed. "A woman?"

"No, a man. Does that mean anything? Riddle!"

He ignored her, too busy rushing towards the Head Master's office. What the bloody hell was going on? Why was a Healer he didn't know here and why was he being called to the office? Abraxas had assured him his privacy would be upheld.

Dumbledore Dippet and a middle aged man in lime green robes which denoted his profession were all standing in the office when he arrived and all three wasted no time in turning to stare at him.

"Mr. Riddle, if you would please explain what prompted you to conceal your condition from the school? Healer Ralwyn has finished informing us of the fact that you were fully aware of the risks to both yourself and your son by continuing practical studies. Not to mention the fact that you've evidently been using glamors all this time."

He ignored the Headmaster's words, instead focusing the Healer In a poisonous glare. "Don't you people take an oath of privacy of your patients?"

"The oath of privacy ceases to apply in situations where the life of the patient comes to be at risk, Mr. Riddle." The man informed him calmly. "The fact that you are able to bear as a Halfblood is incredibly unusual and demanded further examination of Healer Sael's findings and we made a discovery which was…most unfortunate."

"Unfortunate?" Tom could feel his hackles starting to rise as the Healer rounded the desk towards him.

"How you came to have the ability to bear children is unclear but what is clear is that the occurrence wasn't natural. Things are not as they should be and the likelihood that you'll survive should you give birth is very low. To save your life, it's been authorized to…"

"To what!?"

"Terminate the child. I'm terribly sorry, truly I am, but even with Healing magic-."

"No!" The sound of his thundering heartbeat was suddenly all that he could hear as everything glass in the office exploded, scattering the floor with shards of glinting silver. He tried to bolt but slipped and fell, catching himself on his hands and knees. Glass bit into his skin but the pain didn't register and, forgoing the door, he scrambled into one of the corners. Wild eyed. Gripping his wand so tightly his knuckles turned what and waving it around like a mad man. No. No. No! This was not happening. He would not allow it to. They wouldn't take him; he wouldn't let them!

"Mr. Riddle-."

"Get away from me!" Green sparks scattered like small emeralds across the small emeralds and hissing like serpents. Fear and fury warred with each other in his constricting chest, ribs like iron bands that made breathing almost impossible. Eyes burning. Tears threatening the, refusing to be held back, spilling as he pulled his knees up protectively. Baring his teeth like a cornered animal.

Wisely, the Healer retreated, and the Headmaster stepped forwards instead attempting to appeal to logic that didn't matter anymore; his fear of death utterly drowned out by his screaming instincts like a mantra in his mind. No. No. No! Losing his son would ruin him. The Healer's concern was his life. Dippet's excuse was his youth, but his real concern, surely, was how it would look to have another death occur within the school even if it was a natural cause this time. He was still a child, even if just barely shy of his majority at seventeen, and knew that he would need an ally. Someone who was older, more 'worldly' and thereby more 'experienced' with life in order to have any real say in what would happen in his near future.

It was in an act of nothing short of total desperation that he turned his eyes to the only person in the room who hadn't spoken. The foremost person he'd wanted to hide the truth of his condition from in the first place.

"Please." A cabinet erupting into livid orange flames, the box of stolen trophies rattling within it as evidence of his crimes. "He's the only family I have." A rabbit hung from the rafters, its white fur stained red with blood as it swung slightly in a nonexistent breeze. Myrtle dead on the floor beneath the eyes of the basilisk. Hagrid framed for what was truly his fault. "The only good thing I've ever done. Don't take him from me."

"I think that Mr. Riddle has made his choice, Armando. He is almost seventeen, after all, quite independent and aware of the true consequences of his actions beyond that of most his age." He said, stroking his beard thoughtfully. "Not to mention how small our community is, and how precious our children are as a result."

"The child would not advance our numbers, Albus, if Mr. Riddle were to die in the process of bearing him. Not to mention that it is our duty as Headmaster and Deputy Headmaster of this school to look after the wellbeing of our current students, one of which being Mr. Riddle."

"Given the strength of his reaction to the mere suggestion I think it's fair to say that we will be losing Mr. Riddle either way."

"We can have him watched."

"Until graduation, perhaps. A couple of months. The depression caused by losing a child would last far into the future, long passed the time where you or I could legally prevent Mr. Riddle from harming himself."

"I-."

"Need I also mention the small technicality that I am, at current, his magical guardian?"

"I…Merlin, Albus…very well." Dippet huffed and turned his attention to the Healer. "It would seem that your services will not be required; you're welcome to the Floo to return to St. Mungos."

Tom hadn't moved from his slouched position in the corner, gaze fixed straight ahead even as Dumbledore crossed the room towards him. He didn't look up until he spoke.

"Why don't you come with me to my office, Tom. I think some tea would do you good." His voice no longer held the strained politeness which had been there since their first meeting and the infamous twinkle was gone. Tom didn't know if he wanted to punch him of break down further.

It was with some difficulty that he managed to rise from the floor and, in silence, followed his least favorite Professor through the halls and into his office. Fawkes turned his head to look as they entered, ebony eyes glinting, and chirped softly.

With a flick of his wand a second chair was conjured across from his desk and a tray of tea was summoned from the kitchens. Tom curled up in it and resumed staring blankly at the wall.

"Are you perhaps aware, Mr. Riddle, that you're dripping blood onto the floor?"

Tom looked down, seeming to realize for the first time that shards of glass were still embedded in his pals, and tonelessly muttered "Episky."

"I would also have to point out that, now that the truth has come to light, it's best you cease the constant use of glamors."

There wasn't really much point in sing them now anyway. Tom let them drop, curling tighter around himself and entirely ignoring the tea which the older wizard attempted to offer to him.

"Does Mr. Malfoy know?"

"Abraxas is the Godfather, nothing more."

"Then who is the father?"

"A Muggle. Don't ask me the bastard's name; he didn't exactly leave a business card behind when he was finished." He paled slightly and looked at him with undisguised pity. It would have been humiliating before, but it didn't matter now.

Just over a month to live.

"Mr. Riddle…it's terrible to hear what you have gone through. To know that you still care so much for your son is admirable and incredibly adult of you; many in your position would not be able to look passed such a thing.

"It isn't his fault. I brought what happened on myself." Tom ignored the predictable response which was brought about by this statement. He didn't know what he was talking about anyway; no doubt believed something ridiculous, like he blamed himself for being accosted.

"I must admit that perhaps I've judged you wrongly these passed years."

"You haven't and you and I both know that; you've been right all along. I'm evil." Tom looked away, gripping his knees tighter. "What the bloody hell would I have done with a child? I'd have turned my own son into a monster."

"You're not evil, Tom." The sage tone in which Dumbledore spoke was infuriating. "You may have done terrible things, things which I can guess but you don't seem inclined to admit to in detail, but you are not evil. Evil, after all, is not capable of love."

"Oh, spare me!"

"There is no greater act of love which a parent could perform than to give their own life for that of their child. You may scoff at the notion all that you wish to, Mr. Riddle, but you've already given yourself away."

"If it's all the same to you, Professor, I'd like to return to my dorms now." Tom pushed himself out of the chairs. He'd preferred not to stay near the glittering neon man for any longer than he had to. "I've a lot to come to terms with and I'd like to do so privately if it's all the same to you."

"Of course, Mr. Riddle. I understand that this must be…a lot to take it. You are welcome to tea at any time."

"Thank you, Professor." He was relieved to be out of his office and charted a course towards the Slytherin common room. Thankfully it was empty; he had no desire to explain his condition to anyone else that day. Bad enough that he'd divulged what he had already, and to the one person he hadn't wanted aware.

Necessity trumps reason, he supposed. It hardly mattered what came out now that his life was all but forfeit, especially if it guaranteed the protection of his child. He felt confident enough in Abraxas' ability to keep him well enough away from the man's ridiculous 'moral' influences.

"Master." Tom jumped and looked up. The sheets of his bed shifted lightly as Nagini slithered out from underneath them, her amber eyes regarding him in concern. "I have kept away from you for a long time, but have returned now because I sensed your distress. What is wrong?"

"Everything." He gently ran his fingers over her cool scales. "You were right. I wasn't in the correct frame of mind when I returned from the summer, but that changed a few months ago after I visited St. Mungo's. I'd been looking forward to finally having my child, but I've just learned that is' not to be. In every likelihood, I'll be dead within a few weeks."

Nagini reared back with a hiss. "Dead? Master, what do you mean? What is going to kill you? Tell me so that I can kill it first!"

"This isn't something that you can protect me from. Though I wasn't given a proper explanation I'd assume it's the bleeding-or something similar-that will take me. My son will go into Abraxas' care, as I named him Godfather, and will grow up a Malfoy. As my familiar I know that you would be free to return to the wild should you wish to once I have died-."

"I will protect your hatchling, Master. I will not let him come to harm."

"That's all that I can ask of you." Her coils settled on the bed beside him and she rested her head on his shoulder. "I am sorry that I left. That I stayed away for so long."

"There's nothing for it now. I could have saved myself but my son's life is more important. I've lived. He hasn't and deserves to."

"Your hatchling loses a great deal in never knowing you."

"He'll know me, in some way. Abraxas will tell him somethings, I'm sure. And you. And I'll make an attempt to repair my diary-and will give a new one if I am unable-and will write to him though it will likely be some years before he's old enough to understand. I'll give it to someone who will be in the position to give it to him when that time comes." Her forked tongue flicked against his cheek. "I just wish…that maybe I'd done a few things differently. That I could leave him some manner of legacy to be proud of, instead of that of a school yard bully who thought he could actually change the world."

"You're acting strange, Master."

"I suppose I am. It's simply that I've only just realized…that I've lost." Nagini tilted her head questioningly but didn't comment as Tom pulled the duvet up to his chin. "I'm going to take advantage of the absence of my Knights to rest. Please wake me when they return; it's best to get the fallout over with as soon as possible."