Disclaimer: I own none of these characters, I'm just borrowing them from J.K. Rowling.
Fragile
I was lost. And confused. I didn't know what to do. I wanted to lay down and cry myself into death. That would make it all better.
I woke up the next morning, crying pathetically. I forced myself to wipe away the tears and sit up. Though it hurt, I remembered last night. And what happened. I'd barely even made out with a man before and to lose everything in that one moment. That was killing me. I felt the anger burn in my face, drying up my tears.
How I hated Voldemort now. I clenched my teeth and bit back a scream of fury. How could he! What was his motive, his so-called plan? To destroy me infinitely? I would have thought so if I didn't know how insignificant I truly was. If he could destroy anyone, it would be Harry Potter. Everyone knew this. So what was this all about?
This question would drive me insane forever, I knew it. Because Voldemort would never let on to what he really wanted. I stood up quickly and pain shot up my legs and back and into the pit of my stomach. I doubled over, nearly crying out. I grabbed my bed post for balance as I stood straight again, coughing. I was facing the closet, which held that tiara. My anger took over. I pulled open the door and reached into the back, trying to find it. My fingers touched something hard and cold and I pulled the tiara out.
It was so fragile and delicate. It had a sort of eerie beauty to it, really. In my rage I needed to destroy something. I needed a little bit of revenge somehow. So I cast the tiara down onto the floor as hard as possible. I closed my eyes and heard the sound of shattering glass. I opened my eyes and gave a quick scream.
The tiara didn't break at all! I knelt down and picked it up, inspecting it. Not a chip or a crack or anything. There was something kind of indestructible spell on it. I tossed it to the corner of the room and left the room in a hurry. Something had to be destroyed. I needed to vent all of this fury.
"You're a mother now..."
Was it true? Had he impregnated me last night or was this another of his sick mind games? I was going out of my mind. I was so angry, so furious. I ran into the bathroom and stared at myself in the mirror. There was no way I could be the mother of Tom Riddle's child. Impossible. I slammed the side of my fist against the tile wall. He took the most precious, delicate thing you can ever take away from a girl. Her virginity. It was making me insane.
Delicate. Mum had once told me that I was a delicate baby. That they'd almost lost me in the beginning because Fred had thrown baby Ron, unfortunately he landed on Mum's tummy. They had to work hard to keep me.
If Voldemort had made me pregnant, I could stop it. It was too early for it to be completely strong. I could injure myself and that would be the end of it. I looked at my fist on the bathroom wall and nodded. It was the only way.
I balled my hand up as tight as possible and looked at my stomach. I was already in pain, what more could I possibly feel? I stepped back and took a deep breath. I closed my eyes and brought my fist into my stomach quickly. I stumbled back and caught myself on the bathroom wall as the heat of pain swung its way around to my back. I cried out and held myself for a moment.
I barely heard the knock at the door. I walked out into the hall as the pain from my punch ebbed. I ignored the second knock, it was probably just the apartment manager, begging for rent. He would go away soon enough. I looked down at my stomach again. I had to be sure. I clenched my fist again and bit down on my lip, bracing myself for pain again. Then I threw my fist into my stomach harder than before. I went backwards again, but nothing was behind me to catch me. Soon I was falling down the stairs and going into a roll. When I found the floor again, I couldn't move. All I felt was pain all over my body.
Somebody came into the apartment, calling my name. My eyes were shut and I tried, but I couldn't answer. Then I felt the person roll me over and then call out to someone. After that, I blanked out.
I figured something out then. That this child, if there was one, really was Voldemort's and couldn't be hurt that easily. It was delicate as I had hoped.
I was the fragile one.
