Disclaimer: I own Nothing. Nothing is a great fellow, but doesn't give me much money... All character's you recognize belong to the great and powerful JKR, and I bow before her mightiness.
This story is basically AU because it goes against a lot of stuff that JKR says about Voldemort (mostly the whole never knowing love thing...). I did my very best to stay true to the books, but I do have to tweak here and there. Feel free to flame, but be gentle, this is my very first story and I'm still working out the kinks in my writing style. Be warned: I love fluff. None in this chapter, but it will come. Oh yes, it will come.
His Greatest Weakness
The cries of a woman in distress echoed through the long halls of St. Michael's Memorial Hospital in the small town of Little Hangleton, mingling effortlessly with the unusually violent lightening storm that shook the small village and causing all within hearing distance too cringe in horror. In ten years time, if you were ask anyone in attendance that night about that woman's pain filled howls, their faces would turn ashen and they would recall it as the most horrific sound they had ever heard; comparable to the sounds small children hear in their most terrible nightmares.
All night, doctors and nurses of varying specialties could be seen rushing in and out of room twenty-seven, where the cries were originating, and, every time one was seen emerging from inside that room, they always adorned the same pallid, horrified expression. Curious patients came out of their rooms to find our what was happening, and even some people off the streets, who had heard the screams over the pounding thunder, came inside to find out what was happening. Bits and pieces of whispered discussions between doctors were the only clues though. Half-heard statements ("-so much blood-" "-never in my career-" "-she won't last the night-" "-might save the baby-") did not provide much hope about the poor tortured woman and many began praying that her pain would end soon.
One particularly motivated patient, Gregory Burgess, managed to sneak inside the room for a few minutes before the head nurse drove him out. He later told anyone who would listen that it was the most heart-wrenching sight he had ever beheld. According to him, the woman inside was no older than twenty and quite pregnant. He supposed that something was going horribly wrong with the delivery because, as he explained, when his wife had given birth to their first child, there hadn't been "a quarter of the blood that this young lady had surrounding her. It was everywhere." In later musings, Mr. Burgess would also remember one seemingly insignificant fact about that night: "She said a lot of none-sense. Something about none of us 'muggles' being able to help her, said we needed to get her a 'wizard healer'. The poor lass was obviously delusional."
It was nearly dawn before the woman's cries finally ended, and the tiny squalls of an infant were heard. The group of patients that remained outside the room cheered and hug one another, thanking God that it was over and that the baby was alive, although concern for the mother still faintly lingered.
"Congratulations," a husky female voice said from within room twenty-seven, most patients recognized it as the head nurse, "you have a healthy baby boy."
A choked sob answered the nurse. "May I hold him?" The mother's voice was barely audible and raw, almost painful to hear.
There was an odd silence from within the room, and even though they could not see what was happening, the patients assumed that the doctors and nurses were exchanging apprehensive glances.
"Er, I'm afraid not, dear," Head Nurse Paterson finally answered.
"W-what? Why not?" The young mother choked.
There was another silence. This time the voice of Doctor McCauley answered, "The labor was quite trying on your body and we don't think that it would be wise for you to-"
"-Hold my child once before I die?" She interrupted bitterly.
"Nonsense child!" Nurse Paterson answered vehemently, "You'll be just fine. You just need your rest."
The young mother snorted in disdain, "Do not insult my intelligence! I know full and well I am to face death within the hour!"
The anger in her voice caused those surrounding to recoil slightly.
An anguished sob broke through the mother once again and her voice got very small, "I just want to hold my baby. Just once ... before I go. Please."
There was once again a contemplative silence among the staff, and all the patients in the hall mutually agreed that if the doctors did not let this poor, suffering mother hold her precious babe, they would all rush in room twenty-seven and force the staff to let her.
A determined cough broke the undecided stillness. "Er, well, you heard her Nurse Paterson. Let her hold her child."
"Yes, Doctor."
The young mother could be heard sobbing softly and cooing lightly to her baby. "He's so beautiful. He'll be strong someday, a strapping man ... handsome and wonderful."
"Of course he will, dear," Nurse Paterson agreed.
"Have you thought of a name for him, Mrs. Riddle?" Asked Doctor McCauley.
There was a thoughtful pause. "Yes. Yes, I believe I have."
"Well?"
"Tom," she smiled, "Tom Marvolo Riddle."
This story is basically AU because it goes against a lot of stuff that JKR says about Voldemort (mostly the whole never knowing love thing...). I did my very best to stay true to the books, but I do have to tweak here and there. Feel free to flame, but be gentle, this is my very first story and I'm still working out the kinks in my writing style. Be warned: I love fluff. None in this chapter, but it will come. Oh yes, it will come.
His Greatest Weakness
The cries of a woman in distress echoed through the long halls of St. Michael's Memorial Hospital in the small town of Little Hangleton, mingling effortlessly with the unusually violent lightening storm that shook the small village and causing all within hearing distance too cringe in horror. In ten years time, if you were ask anyone in attendance that night about that woman's pain filled howls, their faces would turn ashen and they would recall it as the most horrific sound they had ever heard; comparable to the sounds small children hear in their most terrible nightmares.
All night, doctors and nurses of varying specialties could be seen rushing in and out of room twenty-seven, where the cries were originating, and, every time one was seen emerging from inside that room, they always adorned the same pallid, horrified expression. Curious patients came out of their rooms to find our what was happening, and even some people off the streets, who had heard the screams over the pounding thunder, came inside to find out what was happening. Bits and pieces of whispered discussions between doctors were the only clues though. Half-heard statements ("-so much blood-" "-never in my career-" "-she won't last the night-" "-might save the baby-") did not provide much hope about the poor tortured woman and many began praying that her pain would end soon.
One particularly motivated patient, Gregory Burgess, managed to sneak inside the room for a few minutes before the head nurse drove him out. He later told anyone who would listen that it was the most heart-wrenching sight he had ever beheld. According to him, the woman inside was no older than twenty and quite pregnant. He supposed that something was going horribly wrong with the delivery because, as he explained, when his wife had given birth to their first child, there hadn't been "a quarter of the blood that this young lady had surrounding her. It was everywhere." In later musings, Mr. Burgess would also remember one seemingly insignificant fact about that night: "She said a lot of none-sense. Something about none of us 'muggles' being able to help her, said we needed to get her a 'wizard healer'. The poor lass was obviously delusional."
It was nearly dawn before the woman's cries finally ended, and the tiny squalls of an infant were heard. The group of patients that remained outside the room cheered and hug one another, thanking God that it was over and that the baby was alive, although concern for the mother still faintly lingered.
"Congratulations," a husky female voice said from within room twenty-seven, most patients recognized it as the head nurse, "you have a healthy baby boy."
A choked sob answered the nurse. "May I hold him?" The mother's voice was barely audible and raw, almost painful to hear.
There was an odd silence from within the room, and even though they could not see what was happening, the patients assumed that the doctors and nurses were exchanging apprehensive glances.
"Er, I'm afraid not, dear," Head Nurse Paterson finally answered.
"W-what? Why not?" The young mother choked.
There was another silence. This time the voice of Doctor McCauley answered, "The labor was quite trying on your body and we don't think that it would be wise for you to-"
"-Hold my child once before I die?" She interrupted bitterly.
"Nonsense child!" Nurse Paterson answered vehemently, "You'll be just fine. You just need your rest."
The young mother snorted in disdain, "Do not insult my intelligence! I know full and well I am to face death within the hour!"
The anger in her voice caused those surrounding to recoil slightly.
An anguished sob broke through the mother once again and her voice got very small, "I just want to hold my baby. Just once ... before I go. Please."
There was once again a contemplative silence among the staff, and all the patients in the hall mutually agreed that if the doctors did not let this poor, suffering mother hold her precious babe, they would all rush in room twenty-seven and force the staff to let her.
A determined cough broke the undecided stillness. "Er, well, you heard her Nurse Paterson. Let her hold her child."
"Yes, Doctor."
The young mother could be heard sobbing softly and cooing lightly to her baby. "He's so beautiful. He'll be strong someday, a strapping man ... handsome and wonderful."
"Of course he will, dear," Nurse Paterson agreed.
"Have you thought of a name for him, Mrs. Riddle?" Asked Doctor McCauley.
There was a thoughtful pause. "Yes. Yes, I believe I have."
"Well?"
"Tom," she smiled, "Tom Marvolo Riddle."