Time seemed to have stopped and the whole world has fallen silent. Tom stands straight and tall, looking deep into her eyes. She doesn't back down from his glare.
"What did you just say?" he says so low that his followers would have to strain their ears to hear it.
"You heard me."
He addresses the crowd, his eyes never leaving hers. "You'll have to forgive my wife. All that smoke must have gotten to her head." He says steadily but his jaw is twitching and he's gripping his wand so tight that his knuckles have turned white. "Burn the bodies and kill any stragglers." He tells them and then grabs her arm. Apparating them back to Slytherin's castle.
They're in their bedroom now, where this whole thing started. Idly she wonders how Tom broke the locking spell, but she doesn't care to ask. She shuffles away from him and ignores his existence completely as she pulls shards of glass from her skin. She's too angry. She's too upset to face him.
"What gave you any right to call me that foul name?" he asks again in a low, calm voice. She knows that voice well; she knows he wants to kill her right now.
She winces when she pulls a piece of glass out that was at a weird angle in her skin. "It's true isn't it?" she asks lightly as if she didn't just insult the Dark Lord in front of all of his followers.
She doesn't pay attention to him as he raises his fist and she goes flying to the ground, hitting the floor with a loud thump. She didn't even have time to think before his fist comes down on her again. He's not slapping or backhanding her, he's actually punching her… and hard. She falls to the side and keeps her head down with her arms supporting her weight so she doesn't land on her stomach. Her hair falls all around her, blocking her face. Tom's breathing becomes jagged.
"You ungrateful little bitch." He says as he pulls his hand back and towers over her.
"What do I have to be grateful for, Tom?" she asks while keeping her head down so he won't hit her again. "Being with you?" she tries to laugh then, but her lips cracks. She looks up at him then. "As you can see, you're no prince charming."
"I should kill you." He hisses out while glaring at her crumpled form on the ground.
"It would be the nicest thing you've ever done for me."
With an angry growl he grabs her arm and pulls her up. His eyes are flashing dangerously; he's never been more angry or upset. He grabs her left hand and pulls the ring off her finger roughly, scraping her knuckle in the process. He then goes to the locket around her neck and tears it painfully from her. Her head jerks forward from the force and she can feel a new bruise forming on the back of her neck. She recovers quickly though, and tilts her head up to look him in the eyes. She knows now that he probably is going to kill her but she refuses to back down and she refuses to cry.
With narrowed eyes he's taking her in and with a calm fury he puts the locket and ring in his pocket. He takes out his wand and points it at her heart. This was meant to scare her; this was meant to make her see the seriousness of her actions. She was supposed to be groveling at his feet right now, asking for forgiveness, but she wasn't. She was matching his glare with fierce determination and she was standing tall despite all of her wounds.
"You had better get down on your knees and beg me for forgiveness, little girl."
Her eyes flash with indignation. "Not this time." She says clearly. "After what you did tonight you should be begging me."
A few windows bust and shatter because of his anger that is reaching a new height. No one tells Lord Voldemort to beg. His fury is starting to over ride his senses as he stares into her blank, emotionless face. Then she does another unthinkable thing, she turns her back on him. Like he wasn't important; like it didn't matter that the greatest dark wizard of the age was pointing his wand at her with the intention to kill.
"Oh, look. The sun is rising." She says in a quiet, conversational voice that angers him even more, if that's possible.
She watches the pinks and oranges take over the sky as the sun breaks dawn. She's waiting for him to say the words… she waiting to finally be done with all of this. She looks down at her stomach and places her hand where the baby is. Thinking she's failed the new life that's inside of her, but convinced she'll see her in the next life.
"I'll hold you soon, Calpurnia." She whispers down to the baby in her womb.
She closes her eyes waiting for him to get it over with, but instead she hears him say a curse word. She doesn't turn around. Then he makes a frustrated growl and the stomping of his boots echo through the quiet chamber. The door slams and she turns around in surprise, he's no longer in the room. He left.
She doesn't know if she's relieved or disappointed.
X
He should have killed her; he should have torn her heart out and laughed as she fell to the floor. But he couldn't. He couldn't bring himself to say the words. She had disrespected him in the worst way possible; many a good men had died for lesser offences, but not her. Maybe it was because she was carrying his child… but he wasn't thinking of that... he was thinking of her. What an ungrateful whore. He's the Dark Lord, he could have any woman he wanted and he chose her and this is how she repays him.
Mudblood. She had dared to all him a Mudblood. Him, Lord Voldemort, the most powerful and feared man in the world. She had known him, she shared his bed and yet she did this. He should have done something to her and her saying it shouldn't have hurt him so much. He couldn't kill her, he wouldn't. Why?
"Why?!" he shouts, throwing his hand along the desk before him. Making everything fall to the floor.
Why did she call him that disgusting name and how could she leave him in the first place? He thought his heart stopped beating for a moment when the words left her lips. Did she realize how close to home that word was for him? And in front of all of his Death Eaters! To top that off she had slapped him. Him! Who did she think she was!? He takes out his wand and starts blasting random things in the room.
She must have been slipping some potion into my drink, he thinks fiercely. That would explain the feelings he's having now and the reason why he couldn't curse her. She is a witch after all, and she's a pretty powerful one at that. Yes, that must be it. She had done something to him, something that played with his emotions. He sits down and thinks on this new train of a thought while clenching and unclenching his fists. She has defiantly done something to him. That's the only explanation for this pain in his chest. He's convinced.
With a new found purpose and a burst of energy he bounds up the stairs and throws open the bed room door. She's not in there, but the bathroom door is open so he stops over and marches inside.
The water is running in the bathtub and she's sitting on the edge with her legs submerged in the water that reaches her knees. She's cleaned off all of the ash and blood from her body and has a towel tied around her to cover her nakedness. She put her wet hair in a high bun to keep it out of her face and she has a wash cloth in her hands that she's running down her legs, wincing at the contact. He looks to the sink where there are small shards of glass covered in blood. She must have taken them out herself and set them there.
He shakes his head and focuses on the woman in front of him. "What have you done to me?" he barks out.
She jumps with a start and turns to him, surprised. Tears are in her eyes and falling down her cheeks, cheeks that are bruised darkly because of him. He had expected her to still have the cold, emotionless face she had before, he's a little taken aback by the obvious pain in her eyes.
"What do you mean?" she asks in a voice thick with tears, though she's trying to sound strong.
"I know you've done something." He continues. "A potion… or a spell."
"I don't know what your talking about." She says tiredly. She holds the wash cloth tightly between her hands to deaden the pain of the cuts there.
"Yes, you do!" he shouts. "Why couldn't I kill you before?" when she doesn't answer him he goes to her and grabs her wrist. The wash cloth she was holding falls down into the bloody water and a sob escapes her lips. "Tell me."
"I haven't done anything." She says, openly crying now because of his fingers digging into her cuts. "I swear I haven't." Her anger from before is starting to break and is being replaced by despair. "Please, Tom. Don't hurt me anymore."
His anger starts to deflate as he takes in all of her bruises, cuts, and depressed eyes. He has hurt her a lot to night. He drops her wrist and looks at the wall, suddenly feeling put out. He walks away from her and stands in front of a window in the bedroom. The morning sun is blinding and he notices now how tired he really is. He didn't get much sleep last night. He stands there for what feels like hours.
"Tom?"
"I don't want to talk to you." He says spitefully.
Footsteps gently come up behind him but he doesn't turn around. She sighs loudly before speaking. "I'm sorry." She says quietly, almost sadly. She puts a shy hand out and touches his shoulder. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have called you the hurtful name."
His nostrils flair in a bitter sense of shame courses though him. "Is that what you think I am?"
She shakes her head, even though he can't see her, and puts both hands on his shoulders. She rests her forehead against his back. She's hurting and in pain and wants to be comforted… even if it's from the person who caused it.
"No, I don't. I just wanted to hurt you because I was hurting…I don't want you to be angry with me anymore. I don't mean to be ungrateful. Please, don't be mad at me." She finishes with a pitiful little sob, feeling completely broken.
He silent for a few moments, he doesn't turn around. "I really didn't think you'd be in any danger." He says quietly. "I thought someone would help you out."
She knows that that is as closest to an apology as she's going to get from him so she stands on her tip toes and kisses the back of his neck, wanting to resolve this. She doesn't think she'd be able to take any more traumas today. He turns around to face her and his anger is gone, being replaced by some melancholy feeling. He brings his hand up to her face but she flinches away.
"Sit on the bed," he tells her and when she does he takes out his wand and walks over to her. Panic filters across her face for a moment. "I'm going to heal you." He says quietly so she's not afraid.
He kneels down in front of her and gently grabs her ankle, lifting her foot up to his knee. He runs his wand along all of the wounds on her leg and then works his way around her body; closing up cuts and making bruises and burns disappear.
"You will never speak to me that way again. Is that clear?" he says harshly as his wand mends the scraps on her forearms. He chances a glance up at her and she nods her head.
He goes back to healing her body and when he's finished he places his hands on either side of her body on the bed. He looks up to her and notices she's crying again.
"I didn't want to leave you." She says. "I was going to tell them no, but they grabbed me before I could answer."
He nods his head tightly. "I believe you."
For a moment she looks relieved and then she places her small hands on his shoulders and leans down to kiss his cheek, the one she had smacked. When she pulls back she runs her fingers over the scratches while he stays perfectly still. She takes his wand out of his left hand and points it to the wound, healing it with a quietly murmured spell.
"I'm sorry, Tom." She apologizes for the both of them, knowing he won't.
He brings his hands up to tangle in her hair and he kisses her deeply. He can feel her tears as he brings his fingers down to undo the towel that's covering her body. Once it's off of her he throws it over his shoulder and places a kiss on her stomach, where their daughter is. He can feel her body trembling under his fingers as they explore her body. He looks up to her face.
"Will you hold me?" she asks softly like a little child who's been hurt.
He nods his head and undresses as she burrows under the covers. Once divested of his clothes he slides in beside her and pulls her to him, feeling her warm, smooth skin against his own. He sighs tiredly and they sleep the rest of the day away.
X
She awakes to a sudden pain that causes her to jump up in surprise. She looks to her right and sees Tom sleeping soundly, he usually wakes up before her, or when she does, so he must be tired to sleep through this. Again another pain from her stomach and she barely muffles a cry. Something isn't right. It shouldn't hurt like this; the baby isn't due for two more months.
She stands up and quickly shuffles to the dresser, pulling out one of Tom's shirts because they fit her better then any of her own. Then she has to brace herself against the wall when another pain shoots through. Now her tired body can't help but cry out loud. That sound wakes him and he's by her side in a second.
"What's going on?" he demands as her fingers find the edge of the dresser and hold onto it tightly with her eyes slammed shut. "What's wrong with you?"
"Something's not right…" she says as tears escape down her face. "Something's wrong... The baby can't come now, it's too soon. It's too soon!" After she manages to say that she screams and falls to the ground, hugging her stomach with her arms. "Tom, what's happening!?"
He doesn't know, and it angers him that he can't answer. Panicked by her distress he throws on a pair of pants and leaves to summon the medi-witch. She's slumped against the wall with her hands clenching the material of his shirt when he returns with the shocked looking healer and nurses.
"Oh, my." Says the woman, eyeing the girl on the floor. "She must be going in to labor."
"But it's too soon!" she yells again.
Tom watches through narrowed eyes as the nurses help her to the bed; he notices water running down her legs and has to look away. The medi-witch checks between her legs and looks up to him.
"She's fully dilated." She says with her face set in a frown. "We'll have to deliver her in here." She says and motions for the nurses she brought to pull out the sanitary equipment and make ready the bed.
Isabel watches with fearful eyes as they do this and sweat has caused her hair to plaster to her forehead. "Why is this happening?" she asks helplessly, sitting up on her elbows. "Is she going to be alright?"
The medi-witch gives her a soft smile. "We'll do all we can." Is all she says.
She screams out again and grabs the sheets tightly in her fists, her eyes are closed and she's breathing heavily through her nostrils. Tom stands by the window watching this all happen before him, not knowing what to do, or how to feel. He's not use to not being in control. A nurse scurries by him and he grabs her arm.
"Why did this happen?" he asks harshly and the small girl squeaks and lowers her head.
"I-I don't k-know, My Lord." She stutters with a red face, totally frightened to talk to him.
He knows he must look a mess; he's barefoot and shirtless, with only a pair of black slacks covering himself. His hair is still unkempt and messy from waking but he doesn't care how unprofessional he looks right now. Isabel yells out again and he tightens his grip on the young nurse.
"Why is she having the baby now?!" he yells at her and the others in the room look to him fearfully.
"It could be a lot of things." answers the Medi-witch, trying to help the girl as she situates Isabel's legs in the proper position. "The most likely is unhealthy stress to the mother….like abuse." She says and sends him a pointed look over his shoulder.
She had warned him about this and she can see the faint traces of cuts and bruises on the young woman's body, they must have been newly healed. His anger flares as he looks into the middle aged face of the healer. How dare she look at him in such a way and take such a tone with him. When this is all over with he just might turn his wand on her for her audacity. He's glaring daggers into medi-witch and he has yet to let go of the poor nurse whose eyes are starting to water, Isabel notices this.
"Don't be upset." She says softly through her pain. "She didn't mean anything by it."
Tom pushes the nurse who goes stumbling away from him. He hates it when people tell him what to do. He was about ready to say that when she calls out again and the medi-witch tells her to push. Now fascinated by what's going on he walks closer to the bed, beside his wife. Who's breathing deeply and her face is screwed up in pain. Something possesses him to take her hand and fall to his knees beside her. She looks to him and gives him a thankful smile, then another contraction comes and she has to push, she squeezes his hand painfully tight.
"That's it, you're doing great." The woman says. "Just keep pushing, you're doing fine."
"It hurts." She says softly, taking in a shaky breath and letting a tear fall down her face. "I don't want to push anymore." She says shaking her head like a small child.
"You have to." Says the healer. "We have to get this baby out healthy. You want that, right?"
"Yes." She nods and takes a deep breath before she has to push again. "Oh, god it hurts!"
Looking at her now, Tom is struck with how young she seems to him, with her pale skin and light freckles across her nose and cheeks. He brings his free hand up and pushes some hair away from her face. He takes the hand that's gripping his up to his mouth and he kisses it lightly. "You can do this, sweetheart." He says softly and she looks at him like she's never seen him before.
The labor carries on for two more hours with encouraging words from the medi-witch and Tom holding her hand tightly. He can barely stand her screams and cries and the helpless way she keeps looking at him, but eventually they die down and are rewarded with a new cry all together. The nurses rush over and swaddle the new born in a blanket, carrying her over to the tiny incubator they had brought to clean her off and check her for any problems she might have. After passing the afterbirth Isabel slumps against the pillows and closes her eyes tightly. Letting her chest rise and fall with deep, tired breaths.
In a trance Tom walks over to where the nurses are to see his daughter, small and pink crying in one of the nurses arms. She's swaddled now in a purple blanket with a small white hat covering her head.
"She's small." He remarks to no one in particular and the women jump to hear him speak.
"Y-Yes, My Lord." Says one nervous nurse with frizzy hair. "She's premature but healthy; she'll gain weight in no time."
He nods his head. "I want to hold her." he demands, surprising himself and everyone in the room.
The woman, with shaky hands, gives the small child to him. He takes her and awkwardly holds her against his bare chest. He looks down at her with a warm, uncharacteristic expression on his face. He brings his hand down to touch her small fingers, doing the ancient parental ritual of counting them to make sure she's perfect. As he knows she will be. Looking down at her now he knows he'll spend the rest of his life protecting her.
"Oh, damn." The medi-witch, who was still over tending to Isabel says in alarm. "Sarah, come here. Now!"
The frizzy haired nurse runs over to her and Tom shakes out of his daze and turns around to the bed. The medi-witch is between his wife's legs once more and is trying to stop the blood that is now coming from between them.
"What's going on?" He demands as they scurry around. He's not use to not being charge; he's not use to not knowing what's going on.
"She's hemorrhaging."
The nurse sounds worried and that worries him more. He hands his daughter off to one of the nurses by the bed and walks up to where Isabel is laying. She's very pale now, her lips are as white as her skin and the bed is starting to become soaked with blood. Again he feels a strange sense of panic and he puts his hand in his pocket to calm his frustration. The ring and the locket are still in there. He looks at the girl on the bed again as her blood drains away from her and the women in the room try to stop it. She could die and it would be his fault.
Suddenly afraid he pulls the locket out of his pocket and puts it around her neck again while the nurses and healer give him strange, annoyed looks. The locket glows for a moment and then fits to her neck once more.
They're able to stop the bleeding, Isabel falls asleep from exhaustion, while Tom slumps down in a chair beside the window and can't look anyone in the eye.
X
She wakes up with a headache and her eyes focus on Tom who's sitting in the chair by the window. She almost smiles at his appearance, his hair is sticking up every which way and his bare chest is pale against the darkness of the leather chair. He looks so young. It almost makes him endearing… almost… He's looking straight at her and she's left to wonder how long he's been staring.
She remembers how unnerved she used to be by his intense gaze at Hogwarts, and how nervous it made her... and her friends. Her mind goes back to when he first asked her to be his girlfriend, well, not asked… Tom Riddle doesn't ask for anything, he more like demanded it.
She was sitting in the library working on an essay for potions when her friend Carrie nudged her in the ribs.
"Ow," she said, while glaring and rubbing her sore side. "What do you want?"
She nodded her head over to the table four rows down from them. "He's staring at you again."
She looked up and quickly looked away. Tom's intense, calm gaze was burning right into her skin. She always wondered what on earth he was staring at and why he felt the need to look so… hungry while he did it. Half the time she felt him looking at her she had the urge to look in the mirror to see if there was something on her face. Isabel lifted her head shyly to look at him again and he lifted one dark eye brow, causing her to blush deeper and bury her head in the book on the table. It doesn't help that he's so handsome. He uses that to his advantage.
"Izzy," she says, her nickname, what her friends use to call her… when she had friends… "I don't like the way he looks at you, it makes me uncomfortable."
She snorted into her book, unwilling to look up because she knows he's still watching. "You're uncomfortable? I'm the one who he's staring at all the time."
"Maybe he fancies you." Carrie said in a light voice as she played with her quill. "He is pretty cute, you know."
She scowls at that. Tom had been making her very uncomfortable the past few months. Following her around, smirking that devilish smirk of his, and brushing past her in the halls, always touching her in some way. "He barely even talks to me."
"You must make him shy." Carrie said with a sly smile.
Richard, another friend who was sitting across from her looks up with a troubled expression on his face. "Don't get involved with him, Izzy. There's something not right about the way he acts."
She hesitantly looked up again; Tom wasn't looking anymore. He was writing something down with his black feathered quill and he seemed to be concentrating hard on his paper. Isabel let out a sigh of relief and stood to return the book she had been pretending to read. Placing it in its appropriate spot, she then headed down another isle to take a text she needed for the next essay she had to write. Professor Slughorn had been giving them essays to write like it was going out of style.
She saw the book on healing potions on one on of the top shelves, so she stretched her arm out, trying to reach it. Being too short to get to it that way; she tried again by placing a hand on the ledge near her chest and stepped up to the lowest shelf to give herself more height. She stretched her right arm out again and her fingers barely grazed the edge of the book. She went onto her tippy toes to get closer but froze when she felt a warmth press into her back. A strong hand snatched the book she was trying to get and when they stepped away she spun around with a glare on her face.
"What…" she started, but stopped when she saw Tom smirking at her with the book dangling in his hands. She stood up a little straighter and put her hands on her hips. "Give me the book, Riddle."
"This book?" he asked lightly as he eyed the blue cover with interest. She knew why most houses didn't trust Slytherin's and Tom was their King.
"Just give it to me." She said irritably, putting a hand out.
He eyed her up and down then, making her feel totally exposed and vulnerable. She had taken a step back and he noticed because a small smile played on his lips. "And what do I get if I give it back to you?"
Her face flushed red then, not expecting that from him. "A thank you." she answered with a weak smile.
He smirked, with amusement dancing in his eyes. "No, I don't think that will do."
Frustrated and hating the fact that he was playing with her she rolled her eyes. "What do you want then?"
He took a step close to her then. Dangerously close, she could feel his warm breath on her face and could smell his cologne. He had her feeling like a trapped animal. A slow smile came to his face and he placed his hand on the bookshelf behind her.
"What do I want?"
She nodded her head and gulped loudly, suddenly nervous. "What do you want?" she repeated.
Tom Riddle had grown up in an orphanage. No one ever gave him anything, so he learned how to take things for himself.
"I want you."
She didn't know the kind of person he was then. She just knew that he was handsome and smart… She didn't know what he would turn into… so when he said that she could feel her heart start beating and couldn't help the nervous smile that came to her face. She couldn't say anything to him and eventually he stepped back.
"You'll be going to Hogsmeade with me this Saturday." He had said in an authority tone that she grew to know so well. "Meet me at the doors at ten and I don't want you talking to that Richard Jones kid anymore."
He winked and handed the book back. She watched him walk away with a strange smile on her face. She should have known then, she shouldn't have given in to his demand… but she did… and here she is… back in Slytherin's castle and just gave birth to his child.
"Where is she?" she asks in a hoarse voice.
He stands up and walks over to her. "She's in the nursery. There's going to be a nurse staying here to help and watch over her health."
She nods her head but doesn't look at him. This is his entire fault to begin with; he's the reason why she was born early. The mattress sinks down as he sits beside her and she looks the opposite way.
His hand on her face makes her turn to him. "What should her middle name be? You already want her first name to be Calpurnia, right?"
He's trying to be nice to her now and she nods her head at his question. "You can decide." She says weakly, still tired from giving birth.
He sits back and thinks for a moment. "How about Calpurnia Marie?"
A small smile comes to her face. "That's my middle name." she says.
He looks at her very seriously then. "Yes, I know."
His voice tells her that he knows just about everything about her, that he pays attention to little things like that… and that he's sorry for what he did today.