25/7/13- This chapter has been re- re-re-posted (again!) as I have added a little more to it.(again...such a perfectionist!) *Warning* Voldemort experiences emotions (other than hate) in this chapter. I know this may go against the grain for some, but I don't want him to be one-dimensional. I want to explore other facets of him. SA (P.S. The name of the character in this chapter, is the name of another of my ancestors)

'I know that I'm not alone
What I've seen, has been seen before
But it hurts just like a thorn
A pain I've never felt before
My heart says: "Just speak the truth"
But my mind says: "Don't be a fool"
Need to get something off my mind
Don't let this silence be misunderstood.'

"Fragile World" - Sami Yusuf

Wednesday 23rd August 2000

'Well?' The healer suppressed a shudder of fear at the tone of the Dark Lord's voice. He managed to find his own and spoke. 'I have done all I can My Lord. The bleeding has stopped now. I can hear the heartbeat of the child and it is steady and strong, despite the trauma.' Voldemort's piercing stare continued to rest upon him.

'And? He will survive?' The healer cleared his throat. 'The signs look promising….but I cannot guarantee you the child will survive. It all depends on his mother now. Your wife lost a significant amount of blood. It has weakened her considerably.'

Voldemort continued his pacing of the floor. 'How did this happen?' he yelled at the healer. 'My lord, there are many reasons for this occurrence. The girl could have a predisposition for problems with carrying a child.

Miscarriage is still a common issue and the cause of it is not the fault of the mother in the majority of cases. It… It could also be down to prolonged stress, my Lord. It can cause a great deal of strain on the body and if a woman is pregnant…well…'

'What are you insinuating?' The healer quailed at Voldemort's tone. 'Nothing, my Lord. I was merely making suggestions as to possible causes…' Voldemort invaded the healer's personal space. 'I hope you are not suggesting I am the cause of the problem!' The healer took a step back, Voldemort's closeness was oppressive. 'Of course not, my Lord.'

Voldemort continued to stare at him. 'Could the girl's use of her magic have caused it then?' Ezekiel Brigstock shook his head. 'No, my Lord. Women have carried children and used their magic throughout the ages. I do not believe casting spells will cause miscarriage. Now if a woman is cursed by someone else, then yes, the pregnancy could fail.'

Voldemort looked thoughtful. He walked over to the window and stared outwards. Ezekiel took the opportunity to exhale the breath he had been holding. He hoped his advice would spare the young woman that lay on the bed, should she lose the child. He took in more oxygen to prepare him for what he may have to suggest to the Dark Lord next.

'Can you assure me she will survive?' Voldemort turned round, his eyes flashing dangerously. Ezekiel, who had been ruminating on his fear and trepidation, was taken by surprise. He inhaled a breath for what he had to say.

I have cast the strongest healing spells upon her that I know. The next few days will be paramount. I…I urge you to consider your wife going to a muggle hospital My Lord. We…we sometimes underestimate the technology and medicines they have...'

Ezekiel was gripped by the throat and the serpentine eyes bored into him. 'You dare to suggest that I put my faith in muggle healers and their technology? You think that I would allow them to touch and to and use machines upon the body of the woman who carries my child? You will be the one who ensures their survival! And if you fail, I will strike you from the world!' Ezekiel shivered in fear at Voldemort's threat. He knew it was not an idle one.

'Y-yes my Lord…' Ezekiel managed to choke out the words, despite the grip Voldemort had on his larynx. The Dark Lord released his hold on Ezekiel. 'Good. That is what I wanted to hear. You will remain with them day and night until the danger has passed and she has recovered. Now leave me. I wish to have a few moments alone with my wife.' A shaking Ezekiel bowed low and left the room, guided out by a house elf.

He had experienced a tide of emotions when the girl had collapsed before him and he seen the small pool of blood that had appeared on the floor. The feelings that had hit him when he thought that his child was dying had been overwhelming. It was something he had never before experienced. He had welcomed the relief that the healer had given him when he had examined the girl, stopped the bleeding and reassured him that the child still lived and that his heartbeat was strong. This had been tempered by the news that the girl's life was still in danger and that the healer believed that she was trapped within her subconcsious.

Voldemort looked at her now-still form in the bed. Her usual fair complexion now had a ghostly pale hue. She had been in and out of consciousness for the past twelve hours. She would occasionally cry out words that were mostly unintelligible. He had heard her cry out for her mother.'Mum! I don't feel right! Where are you?' Her tone had been plaintive and almost child-like.

Her slender, delicate body now looked dangerously fragile. He could only hope her strength of character and magic would pull her through. He could not yet ask her if she had been aware of her pregnancy when she had duelled with Bella. But he did not think she would knowingly have risked the child's life.

He moved closer to the bed and sat down next to her. Everything depended upon her survival now. If she died, then so did his child. He continued to tell himself that it was only the child that mattered to him. He could usually lie to himself quite easily. He sighed. It was becoming harder to believe his own lies. Even now he felt the pull of his desire for her, which remained stronger than ever. He hated it. Hated how weak and needy it made him feel. This girl had been nothing but trouble ever since he had acquired her. He was beginning to doubt the benefits of this alliance with her. He had clearly underestimated her.

She was proving frustratingly difficult to control, she had bewitched him and seduced him. And he had allowed it. The Dark Amber stone was now most certainly in the possession of the Order. He had walked himself into dangerous waters. Only one of his Horcruxes remained and it was precious to him. It was the last piece of his soul and enabled him to keep a fragile grip on immortality.

He had become complacent. The girl held secrets, she was clever and cunning. Now, she knew of her power and her magic was becoming stronger. Everything was slipping out of his control. And now he was unable to control the outcome of his child's life, and if he would make it into this world. Control was something he had always desired. If he could control the entire universe and everything contained within it, then he would. And this loss of control he was now experiencing was the cause of the reappearance of an emotion he had mastered long ago.

Now it had it's grip upon him once again and was growing deep within him, deep inside his core. He would admit this emotion to no-one. Fear. That most primal of emotion had infested him again. He knew what was causing this. The thought of losing his child was frightening him. And despite her infuriating him and that she was now a danger to him, he did not wish to lose the girl either. His emotions and thoughts were no longer in his control. He did not like it; these sensations were alien to him. He had to exert his control again. Of himself. Of everything.

He began to argue with himself inwardly. I am not developing feelings of attachment, he told himself. Such things were beneath him. I care for no-one. I need no-one. It was merely the fact that she and the unborn child were his possessions. He should have control of whether they lived or died. He had removed himself from the clutches of death, but he knew that death could now take away that which belonged to him and he did not like it. Damn it all! This situation reminded him of exactly why throughout his life he had eschewed friendships and relationships.

How weak they made you. How you became used to having those people around you. And when death took them away, the pain of the anger, hurt and heartbreak that overwhelmed you. He hated that he did not have control over life and death at all times. He sighed. It was too late to turn back from this path he had chosen. He had committed himself to this situation and now he would have to see it through to the end. He smiled darkly. He had always been tenacious.

His long fingers cupped her cheek and his thumb brushed her lips. With his other hand he stroked her forehead and then her hair. 'You will survive this girl. You cannot escape me so easily. You are mine. You carry my son inside you and you will bring him into this world. Death will not take you from me, not yet. It is not your time.'

Voldemort removed his thumb from her lips and lowered his head to brush his own against them. How he desired her to be conscious so he could take her again. He could feel himself harden, even at her unresponsive form. He broke the kiss and raised himself upwards again. He pulled back the cover and his hand came to rest on her abdomen.

'My child, it is your father. You have had quite a shock in these past few hours. The healer says you are well, despite this. It is your mother that we are now waiting to recover. She is very weak'. Voldemort's hand caressed Rose's stomach. He wished for some sign from the fledgling human within.

He felt his anger building again. Bella. He had not thought she would dare to attack the girl. She had always been obedient. Had he not rewarded her for her loyalty? He had bestowed on her his company and the honour of being his mistress. The foolish woman had allowed herself to become attached to him.

Women, he thought to himself. Slaves to their emotions. Craving attention and chasing their deluded ideas of romance and love. So weak and pathetic. He had never met a woman he could truly respect and view as an equal. Bella had come close some years ago. She was a powerful witch and she had been useful. Her desire to please him and do his bidding had assisted him greatly. But she had ruined it and now she would pay with her life.

He turned his attention back to the girl. He had initially thought she would be weak like all the rest. Her initial pathetic attempts at resisting and rebelling against him, had been laughable. He was now considering that she could prove his first impression of her to be wrong . She had power, spirit and intelligence. She caused conflict within him. She was certainly of Morgan's blood.

He turned his thoughts back to Bella. He had always known of her unstable, unpredictable nature and should have ensured the girl's protection against her. Narcissa had already been to plead for her sister. She had felt the full force of his fury. He had told her that her sister's actions had placed her whole family in jeopardy.

His former mistress had cried and begged his forgiveness when he had visited her in her prison cell. 'Please my lord,' she had cried, 'Forgive me! I did not know she was with child! The Black family elf, Kreacher was with her…he was trying to help her escape!' Bella saw the look in his eyes and braced herself for what was to come. She had seen that look before, but it had never been fixed upon her.

'Crucio!' Bella had screamed and writhed on the stone floor of the cell. She had felt this curse in her life before, but never from him. 'Is this what you did to her? Is this what you inflicted upon my child?' He had raged at her and Bellatrix's cries of agony could be heard throughout the house.

When the curse stopped, Bella was curled up in a foetal position, sobbing in agony. Drawing breaths, she found her voice. She had to make him understand, make him listen to her. 'My Lord! I beg you…please listen! I did not curse her, I did not use any curse on her…I tried to…' Bella let out another sob. 'But she deflected all my magic…she was so powerful! It is the truth, My Lord!'

Voldemort stared down at her, puzzled as to why he had ever taken her to his bed. She was a pathetic creature. He was extremely unnerved by Bella's words about the girl's magic. His suspicions were aroused and he felt certain he knew where the girl had learned her tricks. He could see Bella was telling the truth. He spoke again. 'I know that you speak the truth, yet it does not excuse the fact that you disobeyed me Bella. You should not have done it! If either the child or the girl die, then so will you!'

He left her alone in the cell and Bella moaned and cried in pain and heartbreak. Her life now depended on the survival of both the girl and her child! She remembered the words the girl had spoken before the duel. She had given her the chance to walk away and save herself, but she had not listened. She had allowed her jealousy to blind her to the danger. Bellatrix sobbed bitterly. She had lost him completely.