Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the Harry Potter world which is owned by J. K. Rowling. This story is written purely for entertainment purposes and the events which happen in this story are not canon. I am not profiting financially from this story. I only own my own plot ideas, which make up only a part of the plot, and original characters. Thank you J. K. Rowling for thinking up such a world as wonderful as Harry Potter.

Chapter #5

It's December in my fifth year now. I'm not sure how I ended up in this situation. I just remember Henry Runn asking me to this Christmas party held by the Slytherins in their common room. Lila Yew came with me; she was asked by Franklin Oakley. I'm not sure why I said yes, but Runn ditched me early into the party.

Now, hours later, I believed myself to be rather drunk with Tom who was also rather drunk - too drunk to care about being seen with the likes of me. We sat on one of the couches in the common room, merely drunkenly talking with girls regularly 'accidentally' falling either on him or into his lap.

"That's gotta be over thirty girls already," I clapped, laughing uncontrollably.

"I've told you. The girls are always all over me," Tom smirked. "I'm gonna go get another glass. Want one?"

"No," I shook my head, letting my hair fly everywhere.

I relaxed, laying back into the couch. I suppose I'm much more laid back when drunk. I put my legs up on the armrest on the opposite side of the couch, not caring that my skirt slipped down my leg a little.

Tom soon returned, forcing me to put my legs down. But in the time he was gone, I'd been thinking. When Tom sat down, before he could speak, I took his glass of some kind of alcoholic drink and spoke.

I took a sip from the glass, "You know, Tom, our friendship is rather like a liquorice wand. It's long and thin, representing its long-lasting and purposeful existence rather than a short-lasting and fluffy and hole-y existence such as a cotton candy relationship; it can be stretched and even then, it won't break which signifies our durable relationship; and it's not too sweet but not bitter like how we interact since we aren't sugary sweet with each other but we are kind to each other. I could go on if you'd like," I smiled, drinking more of the alcoholic drink from the glass.

"Alright, if you say so," Tom tried to get his glass back, reaching over me.

"And, we both love liquorice wands. Not to mention, we - in a way - became friends over liquorice wands," I remembered back to the time we first met on the Hogwarts Express.

"I remember. You shoved a liquorice wand into my mouth that day on the Hogwarts Express," Tom laughed.

"You laughed!" I pointed at Tom, my mouth agape in shock.

It isn't often Tom laughs. I have heard him laugh before, but it truly is a rare occurrence.

Tom managed to get the glass back while I was pointing in shock. "Yes? And?"

"You're much more honest when you're drunk, Tom," I reached over Tom for the glass.

"And when you're inebriated, Evelyn, you're much more seductive," Tom countered. "That isn't to say you aren't normally seductive, Eve. It's just that when you're intoxicated, you act much more sensually than you realize."

I blushed. I could feel by neck growing hot.

Tom smirked, clearly seeing my blush and sensing my sudden uncomfortableness. He got up, supported himself on the back of the couch and hovered over me, his smirk still firmly in place.

"Tom, what're you thinking?" I asked hesitantly. As Tom and I continued to stare at each other, I knew what he was going to do. "Tom, not here. You'll regret it for the rest of your life-"

"Then let us go upstairs," Tom got up and lead me by my hand upstairs. I was too intoxicated to register exactly where he lead me and where I wound up.

The next morning, I awoke in bed with Tom. I had a hangover, as did he, and it was most awkward - but very wonderful. Not to mention, I had to get dressed silently and slip out of the Slytherin boys' dorms concealed by the disillusionment charm - which made it more awkward for me but fortunately only Tom and I knew.

…

"Hey, Tom. Found anything new yet?" I asked Tom. He was reading a book at the back of the library alone.

"No, I can't find my father's name anywhere."

Tom had been researching about his ancestry for months now. He's been obsessed. Most evenings, he'll stay up late reading.

"Have you ever thought that perhaps, you're mother is the magical one between your parents?" I suggested, sitting down opposite Tom at the table he sat at.

"No, that'd be impossible. She died. If she died, that means she was weak, meaning she couldn't have been a witch," Tom deemed stubbornly, his voice stone hard.

I nodded, concerned.

…

"Tom… Are you alright? You seem more irritated these days," I was concerned with how Tom has been acting as of late.

"I'm fine," Tom ground out, clearly angry.

"…Did you find something out about your ancestry?"

Tom didn't answer. Then, "My father was the Muggle."

I nodded in silent understanding.

"Want to know something else?" Tom turned to me. His mood seemed to have lifted a little.

I raised my eyebrows in curiosity.

"I'm of Slytherin decent."

"Doesn't surprise me. You're cunning, ambitious, and charming. They say those are the traits of Slytherins," I shrugged.

"What, so you think all Slytherins are charming?" Tom teased, his mood definitely lightening.

I shook my head, smiling.

The weeks following that conversation, I scarcely saw Tom, let alone spoke to him.

…

I looked at myself from the side in the mirror of the bathroom in my dorm. My belly protruded out somewhat noticeably. It really wasn't that noticeable, but I'm pretty slim so…

I knew I was pregnant. I have know for a while now. It's just so hard to comprehend, it feels like a dream. No one knows except for me. My dorm mates don't know either. Not even Tom knows and he's the father. It couldn't be anyone but him. He's the only one I've ever done it with. I know it was that night at that Christmas party in the Slytherin dormitory.

It's hard keeping such a secret to only myself. But at least my baby is cooperating so far; my belly bump isn't noticeable if I wear loose shirts. And my body's cooperating, too; I don't have morning sickness or any signs of pregnancy that would be obvious to others.

This whole pregnancy was somewhat of a nightmare. I'm sixteen for goodness' sake! But even so, I couldn't help but love this baby. At first, a couple of months ago, I wasn't sure as to how I felt towards my baby. But now, I've grown attached. It's the product of Tom and I after all, what's not for me to love?

…

"Evelyn."

I jumped, startled. I hadn't heard Tom approach me.

"Tom," I breathed. "What are you doing here?"

"I should be asking you that. Isn't this where you usually find me?" Tom gestured to the table at which I sat - the one at the back of the library that Tom usually sat at.

I smiled, "I guess so. I haven't seen or spoken to you for a while now, Tom. Where've you been?"

"Researching my family history. It's nothing you need to concern yourself with. But I've decided to take a break in order to inquire about your health. You seem very fatigued these days, are you getting enough sleep?" Tom asked. How sweet of Tom to notice my tiredness even with his researching.

"No, I probably haven't been getting as much sleep as I need. I've been busy lately," I explained, tired. "But thank you, Tom, for worrying," I stood to give Tom a hug.

"Evelyn, sit down," Tom ordered. I was confused momentarily before I realized my mistake. "Stay still," Tom untucked my shirt and pulled it up, exposing my tummy with a bump big enough to not be stomach fat.

"Tom," I put my hand on his, failing to stop him.

Tom merely kneeling before me, staring at my belly. "Who…?"

"Tom," I started.

"Evelyn, who…?" Tom asked, a little more forcefully.

I looked away. I couldn't tell Tom that it was him, that he was the father. It would cause him trouble, and he wouldn't want children anyway.

Tom silently got up and stormed away. I didn't stop him.