August 1944 - Childless Women
"When I was younger, thinking about whether I wanted children, I always came back to this formula: if no one had told me anything about the world, I would have invented boyfriends. I would have invented sex, friendship, art. I would not have invented child-rearing."
― Sheila Heti, Motherhood
"They're all at the mass, you won't find them here" indicated the surly doorman once she stood in front of the ramshackle building.
"At church"
She must have seemed confused because he sighed:
"That way. Second street on your left"
The girl walked past the wrought iron gate, reached the corner of the brick building. Her gait was frantic, despite the fact that she had not gotten a wink of sleep, for Annabel had lay awake at night, her eyes heavy but her heart racing.
Her mother had come to her once Tom had left, to enquire about the news. "He proposed to me" she had marvelled and her mother had replied, with a warm smile that had surprised her:
"He seems to be very fond of you"
Annabel went up the street, turned left after a booth stand to be faced with a stunning structure, which she glanced at warily from the forecourt. A spooky melody was emanating from the inside of the building, from a ghastly instrument she sworn she had never heard in her entire life. Yet, a few ethereal voices soon accompanied the music, before a chorus began to sing.
Annabel peered inside the church and she found Tom with ease, for he was standing in the last row, his dark-hair glowing in the candlelight, his lips stubbornly sealed.
She could not help but smile at the sight of her inflexible fiancé and she stepped inside the church, now mesmerised by the refinement of the songs the faithfuls were chanting.
As if he knew she was there, Tom peeked over his shoulder and darted her a glance full of innuendo. She mouthed a "good morning" but soon enough, he had grasped her palm, led her outside the building.
Tom guided her on the paved square before he swivelled her, pushed her against the nearby linden tree.
"Missed me already?" he cooed in her ear, his voice deliciously low before he left hundreds of kisses against her jaw. She moaned when he bit the base of her neck and her hands pulled on his shirt as she grew desperate for his lips, which he finally conceded her, nothing but a small stroke at first, before she tilted her head, granting him access to her mouth and when she felt his tongue searching for hers, she became lithe in his arms, like ice that thawed under the sun.
She had feared she might have imagined it all, his proposal and his kisses, but when Tom bit her lower lip, when his hands lingered on her sides and firmly gripped her waist, his crotch dangerously close to hers, she knew she had not been dreaming.
The ringing of the bells drew their embrace to a close, for people were exiting the church already, and darted the enamoured couple condemning glances.
Tom stepped to the side, pulling away from her and she felt like she was being torn apart, like if someone had opened her chest and pulled her heart out. She tried to steady her breath while he darted her a contemptuous smile, as if terribly proud to be the reason behind the girl's befuddlement.
"Come" he gently issued, taking her hand again as he led her away from the prying eyes.
"It was beautiful, the song you were singing" she said, slightly out of breath even though they had left the forecourt already.
"I wasn't singing"
"Right" she rolled her eyes with a smirk. "It was beautiful the song that they were singing"
They walked for some time, wandering inside the London streets hand in hand. She shot him sideway looks from time to time, acknowledging how gorgeous he was even in his commoner's clothes, and she felt her heart swell whenever they reached a crossing, or anything that obstructed the sidewalk, for the young man wrapped a protective arm around her waist and brought her close to him each time.
She had been scared that Tom might be displeased to see her, for she had shown up without notice, thus catching him red-handed as he was partaking in Muggle activities she suspected he highly despised, yet, she had questions, one mainly, which had bothered her all morning, harrowing, for even if Annabel liked the thought of Tom Riddle being suddenly infatuated in her, she was not naive enough to believe that he, of all beings, would propose to her out of love or sympathy.
They finally reached the facade of a run down shop that Annabel identified as the Leaky Cauldron.
She slowed, glancing warily at the Slytherin next to her, for her parents had warned her that their engagement was to remain a secret for the time being.
"I know where to go" he said.
—
She had first frowned when he had led her to Knockturn Alley, to finally comply when he had raised a challenging eyebrow.
He was now walking down the street, a few feet away from her, so no one would assume that they might be together, and it felt slightly exciting, to pretend they were by no means related.
The young man caught sight of his fiancée's reflection in one of the shop's mucky windows, appreciating how beautiful Annabel looked in that pale blue dress of hers, how it hugged her waist exquisitely.
He could not help but smile.
His fiancée.
His sweet, little fiancée.
He pushed the small gate that led to a flight of stairs, between a tattoo artist's studio and a pawnbroker's. The door on his right was opened and Tom glanced at the bartender who nodded.
The pub was entirely empty at such an early hour, the air filled with the faint smell of tobacco and the sharp scent of cleaning product. Tom waited for Annabel to be next to him to place his hand on the small of her back, feeling the appetising motion of her rear under his palm as he guided her further into the room.
"Isn't it your friend over there?" she whispered, tilting her head as to indicate the counter while he pulled on a chair for the girl to sit.
He nodded.
"Dolohov" he precised. "But don't you worry, he won't ask anything"
"Trust me" he added when he felt her become uneasy and his lips brushed her forehead for a reassuring kiss.
He took place in front of her and she seemed to relax. They placed the same order and when the two Butterbeers arrived, accompanied with a small bowl of peanuts on a levitating tray in order to grant them some privacy, Annabel took a deep breath.
"I have questions" she disclosed without further ceremony.
Tom raised an eyebrow and he motioned an inviting gesture for the girl to speak.
She squirmed a bit, glanced at her glass that stood in front of her before she gripped the table.
"You proposed to me…" she began with a small strangled voice.
"Why?"
Tom closed his eyes.
He had expected such a question, which was only natural.
Yet, he had hoped to delay the confrontation, and revel in that burgeoning relationship, take the time to learn all about his future wife, who she was, and how she wished for him to be.
He waited, expecting her to pursue because he supposed that she had more on her mind and he watched her play nervously with the coaster under her drink, folding repeatedly the same corner.
"I thought you never wished to get married…"
"I never said that"
She frowned and shot him a guarded glance.
"Excuse my bluntness Tom but you don't really strike me as husband material"
He had a small mirthless laugh.
"Really? And how about you Annabel? Do you think of yourself as wife material?"
Touché.
She glanced to the side and pressed her lips together.
He paused for a second at the sight of her slightly slouched posture, as if she meant to shield herself against another potential attack and he sighed.
"We're gonna have to learn how to get along" he stated, because Tom found such quarrel exhausting and he did not intend his marriage to turn into an endless bickering.
"Listen, Anna" he began, his voice soft.
He wished he could tell her of all the reasons behind his proposal, not only about her lineage but also that she was all he was thinking about, day and night, the idea of her becoming his deliciously bewitching... He would have liked to tell her that he could not bear the thought of another man with her, next to her, inside her, especially now that he knew who she was: his. His only to kiss, to caress and to hold, and if he had to marry her to make sure that she would not slip through his fingers once again, so be it, he would marry her.
Yet, Tom was brave in most things but the affairs of the heart, and he found himself answering fairly poorly, calling upon the Rational, money, career, tangible things that made sense to his cartesian brain.
He also invoked his own goals, keeping his words willingly abstruse, for it was neither the time nor the place to discuss politics, nor to chat about world domination.
"Working for your father was not exactly what I had in mind but I have plans, for the future, which I cannot disclose yet because it would be premature, but they would certainly benefit from the position your father would grant me by marrying you"
"What about Hogwarts?" she interjected with her brows furrowed, driving him further into a corner.
"I thought you wanted to become a teacher"
"Merrythought is not going to retire any time soon and Dippet won't hear a word about hiring an assistant…" he revealed, a rictus contorting his mouth as he remembered the unpleasant conversation he had had with the Headmaster at the end of the year, the prick going as far as to encourage him to "go see the world" before applying for a professorship.
She was quiet for a while, her eyes casted down, her fingers tracing lines on the condensation that had formed on the glass before her digits pulled on the coaster.
"I see" she nodded with a woeful smile that she badly concealed.
"You proposed because of the job"
His heart constricted at her words, and he closed his eyes for a second, hoping so dearly that he could simply tell her the truth.
"Partly…" he found himself responding, for he could not bear the sight of her disappointment.
"You also appear to be one of the few people that do not make me want to hex them on the spot" he joked as he reached for her hand over the table.
He took away the carton she had begun to rip apart and he took her small hand in his palm.
"And, if I have to spend my entire life with someone, well, I suppose I'd rather it be with someone I don't find entirely disagreeable"
She hummed, in a better mood from his shy confession and Tom hoped to see in the faint smile that now showed on her lips that she had understood the words he was not saying, those he thought he would never be able to utter, not even alone in his room, because the simple thought of him being besotted in anyone made him cringe.
They were both silent for a while, his thumb gently stroking the smooth skin of her hand before she cleared her throat.
"And what would it entail? For us to be... married?" she asked as he met her gaze.
"Well, I suppose it means doing the things normal couples do. Go on holidays, own a house, share a bed" he listed and she reddened excessively at the last words.
He smirked at the sight of her crimson cheeks, relishing the time he could get to torment her soon, and have her blush some more.
He let go of her hand though and he took a sip of his drink, to distract himself from his steamy thoughts…
"I have one condition" he stated once he placed his drink back on the table, with a serious air and his prefect voice.
She shot him a quizzical glance and he pursued.
"I want you to become a healer" he issued and her eyes widened at his peculiar request.
"A healer?"
He nodded, moved his mug of beer on the table to perfectly align it with hers as he went through the list of made-up arguments he had thoroughly prepared.
He could not simply tell her that he had some kind of premonition, that having a healer on their side - on his - would prove to be useful in the future… Nor could he tell her that his subversive teaching had already sent a few youngsters to St Mungos, and that he and his friends had seriously started to run out of sturdy explanations about why some kids were showing up so seriously injured every summer...
"I remember that Slughorn had hinted at the idea and I think he's right. You would be amazing at it" he cooed but she darted him a glance which meant something like "I'm not buying one word of your flattery".
"What?" he joked before he leaned towards her, whispered in confidence.
"Don't tell me you never thought about it… Becoming one of the first female healers, showing the wizarding world the extent of witches' potential... Lead the way for the future generation of professional women, be the role model of hundreds of girls?"
"Stop it" she issued but he kept going, until he finally forced a smile out of her.
Annabel shook her head and crossed her arms on the table before her.
"I meant what I said" he prompted with a confident smile before he threw a peanut in his mouth.
"St Mungo's only take a handful of students each year. There is no way I'll make it" she muttered but Tom tutted and shook his head.
"You're doubting yourself too much darling. Of course you'll make it" he asserted.
"I'll train you" he stated.
"I'm certain that private lessons about Anatomy in my bedroom will turn out rather instructive"
She leaned forward and tried to hit him with the flat of her hand in feigned indignation before she sat back down, suddenly serious.
"I also have one request"
"Fair enough" he nodded before he laid back in his seat, watching her open her mouth.
"I do not want to be a mother"