Evelyn's hands trembled as they held the white stick. Two lines. Positive. On the counter sat three more tests, all different brands of muggle pregnancy sticks. All saying the same thing.
Positive. Pregnant.
Evelyn shuddered out a breath. How could this happen? They were told that her reproductive organs were damaged after years of being beaten with a beater's club. She and Tom had been having unprotected sex for years daily with absolutely no signs of a pregnancy ever coming. While she had been sad at first—upset that she couldn't ever grow a real family with Tom—they had both accepted it long ago. Evelyn Riddle would never get pregnant.
Until now.
Her limbs felt like gelatin, her mind covered by a cloud of pure panic. I'm pregnant, it repeated. I'm pregnant... pregnant... pregnant...
She triple-checked that her mental walls were up between her and Tom. He was going to be gone for a few more days and he didn't need to hear about this until she had decided what to do. Since becoming the Dark Lord, Tom occasionally had to take long trips on Death Eater business. He pleaded for her to come with and usually, she did but lately, she hadn't been feeling well so she lied and told Tom that she was too tired to come when in reality, it was because she had spent the past week throwing up everything and feeling like the Hogwarts Express had run over her.
The idea that she could have been pregnant hadn't even occurred to her until Kreacher returned from a muggle pharmacy with multiple different kinds of pregnancy tests, saying that he was concerned for his mistress. "Kreacher has seen witches this way before," he croaked. "Kreacher thinks mistress should take the tests."
And there she was. In the bathroom surrounded by those tests, every single one saying positive. She was pregnant with a baby she wasn't even sure she wanted, wasn't even sure her husband wanted either. Neither of them expected to ever have a child. What if he was furious? What if he...
No. There was no sense in letting her mind wander. Tests could be faked all of the time. False positives were a thing and Evelyn was sure these were some. But still... it was probably better to check.
Evelyn quickly purged what little breakfast was in her stomach, groaning as she placed her forehead on the cool, black tile of the bathroom. She desperately wished Tom were here but there were still two days until he returned from Bulgaria. And Evelyn was beginning to think that she needed those two days to think.
Finally, once her stomach seemed under control, Evelyn dressed and used the floo to travel to Saint Mungo's. Apparating in this condition seemed like a terrible idea.
The hospital wasn't busy so it took no time at all for them to usher Evelyn into a dim, warm room with a bed in the middle. She fiddled with the hem of her black sweater before sighing nervously. Her stomach did seem a little larger than normal, a little rounder. She thought it was just bloating but could it be more?
And what if it was more? What then? She and Tom were secure enough to have a child. Their marriage was strong, their finances settled, and Tom had been Dark Lord for long enough to feel more than secure in the position. They were no longer children but were they ready for children of their own?
Evelyn wasn't sure. And that thought scared her.
A nurse came and took a vial of Evelyn's blood, explaining that the doctor would be there in about half an hour to go over the results. They were checking for all sorts of diseases, not just pregnancy, and Evelyn couldn't decide what she hoped for. You should be hoping for the disease. You don't even know if Tom wants a child. But... but what if he did? What if she did? What if they were ready to have a family and this little miracle was a sign?
There's no sense in thinking about "What ifs", a rational part of her brain said. Not until you have results. You don't even know if you can have children. It's probably just a sickness.
But what if it wasn't?
It felt like an eternity before the doctor came in to greet her. A tall, dark woman with kind eyes and an even kinder smile. "Mrs. Riddle?" she asked and Evelyn nodded. "Well... congratulations. You're going to be a mother."
At that moment, a dozen different feelings washed over Evelyn's body. Anxiety, dread, and a little bit of fear... excitement, hope, and a little bit of happiness. "Little Dove, are you alright? Your feelings are going haywire," Tom's worried voice appeared in his mind. "Do you want me to come back early?"
"No," she responded quickly. "I'm fine. Just an emotional book. I'll see you soon, my love."
His thoughts turned lustful. "I cannot wait to see you at least. A week is far too long."
Evelyn ignored his horny visions and instead turned to the doctor. "But... but how? I was told we wouldn't be able to have children, not with my injuries."
The woman pursed her lips before waving her wand. Finally, she said, "Have you seen a powerful healer lately?"
Tom. The last time she had been healed was the Christmas before she turned 18. The Christmas her grandparents died and she met her uncle. "Yes. But it was many years ago."
The doctor shrugged. "Well, it seems that whatever injuries you had with your reproductive system were healed. Only someone very powerful could have done that."
Definitely Tom then. "So you're saying that we haven't had a child yet out of pure chance?"
The woman smiled. "That's exactly what I'm saying. It seems that a little miracle has been gifted to you."
Unconsciously, Evelyn placed her hand on her stomach, where her little miracle was already growing. Despite her earlier feelings of trepidation, her fears that she and Tom were not yet ready for such a responsibility they hadn't ever expected to bear, Evelyn couldn't help the surge of love that filled her heart. My baby is in there. My little baby.
"Would you like to see it?" Evelyn nodded instantly. The doctor began to pull out various tools. A stick, some gel-type liquid, and a potion to calm the nerves the woman must have sensed. After a few moments, an image appeared on the screen.
A sob curled out of Evelyn's throat and she clutched a hand over her mouth to contain it. There on the screen was a little black and white bean no larger than a finger. She could see its little head, its tiny body, and what looked like a fist clutching to its body.
"He's beautiful," she choked out. There was her baby. Her baby. That little bean was half her and half Tom and all wonderful. Theirs. Their little miracle.
"Now, we don't know the sex yet but we will around the 14 week mark," the doctor explained. "It looks like you're around 8 weeks along, hence the sickness and exhaustion you described to the nurse."
Evelyn didn't care. She would throw up everything inside of her if this little bean asked it of her. It was hard to explain but within just a few minutes, Evelyn went from dreading the idea of a child to not knowing what she would do without this tiny body inside of her. She knew, then, that she would do anything for her child. Anything.
She spent a few more minutes just watching the baby in her stomach before the doctor began to pack it up. The rest of the afternoon was a blur. The nurse brought her some pictures from the ultrasound, each one showing her little baby bean. My baby. My little darling.
Everytime she stared at the picture, she smiled. But Evelyn realized quickly that while she wanted nothing more than to crawl into this moment and keep it forever, she couldn't do that. This baby had two parents, one who was across the continent. He deserves to know, she thought, staring at the photo while placing her hand on her stomach. Your daddy deserves to know.
So she quickly dressed in a long, white gown, one that could hide the little bump she had noticed, one whose sleeves also covered the remnants of where she had her blood drawn. Evelyn fixed her hair and makeup, wanting to look pretty so she might have confidence to tell him news she wasn't sure how he'd react to.
Finally, when the sun had gone down and the candles across the home had been lit, Evelyn reached out to him. "Tom. I need you," she said simply.
And he responded instantly, "I'm coming, Little Dove." Because nothing, not his position, not his power, nothing was more important than her calls.
Evelyn stood in the center of some candles in their room, the picture of the ultrasound tucked onto the bed waiting. It wasn't long before he apparated there, the flames flickering as he appeared.
Her husband's eyes were wide with worry as he scanned her from head to toe. "Darling, are you alright? Are you hurt? Did something happen?"
She said nothing, even as he stepped closer and ran his hands along her to feel for any injuries. But when she didn't respond, when he didn't feel anything, he pulled back, confused. "Evelyn, what is going on?" His voice was deep and smooth, calling to the hormones already rising with her.
Tom's eyes darkened. "Did you need me to take care of you, Little Dove? Could you not wait to be fucked just a few more days?" His voice was thick and laden with lust, as was the air between them, but Evelyn forced herself to pull back. Merlin, she wanted to take him on the bed now but she couldn't. It had to wait. This was more important. This. Their family. Her baby.
"No," she choked out. "We can't."
His eyes filled with confusion. "What is it?"
Evelyn let down a little bit of her mental walls, allowing him to not read her thoughts but to feel her feelings. Tom seemed overwhelmed for a moment but all of the anxiety and fear, not of the situation but of how he would react to it.
"Darling, whatever it is you need to say," he whispered, finally sensing that there was an important conversation to have, "You can say it." He grabbed her hand and kissed it softly before rubbing soothing circles on the back of her palm.
You can do it. He's here. He's not going anywhere, she reassured herself. "No, he's not," Tom growled, apparently hearing her words to herself through the open bond. "Tell me, my love."
So Evelyn just grabbed his hand, the one that was holding her own, and slowly brought it down to her stomach. She placed it over the thin fabric of the gown and allowed him to feel the bump there. At first, his face showed only confusion before his hands slowly wandered and registered what they were feeling. A baby bump.
"What... what is this?"
She smiled and kissed him softly. "A miracle. Our miracle."
Evelyn gestured to the pictures on the bed. Tom swiftly grabbed them, holding them up to his face while his eyes rapidly took in the tiny bean. A myriad of emotions swirled in his dark eyes. Disbelief, a little bit of fear, and then, finally, happiness.
"O-our miracle?" he stuttered. His eyes were widened with hope that neither of them had allowed themselves to feel.
She nodded slowly. "I'm eight weeks along. We're having a baby, Tom."
"We're having a baby?" Suddenly, his arms wrapped around her and he was holding her tightly while lifting her in the air. Tom swung her around in joyful circles, laughing as he buried his face in her hair.
"We're having a baby!... Oh, shit." He set her down as if suddenly remembering she was pregnant. "I can't believe this. My wife, the mother of my child, is pregnant. We're going to be parents. We're having a baby."
She smiled at his reaction, so unused to seeing Tom act so openly joyful. Evelyn placed his hand on her stomach one more, curling her fingers around the top so they could feel it together. "Our baby, Tom. Our baby."
"Our baby," he muttered, pulling her close for one long, heartstopping kiss. "Our little family is growing."
She grinned against his lips, wrapping her arms around her neck while attempting to pull him closer, if that was even possible. "Tom," she breathed as she finally took in his musky scent. He was home. He was happy. Life was... incredible. Her husband. The father of her child. Her everything. "I missed you."
Slowly, Tom crawled over her, careful not to put any weight on her stomach. "And I missed you, Little Dove. Prepare to never say those words again. I'm never leaving your side."
She giggled but the sound soon turned to moans as he began to kiss her neck. "T-Tom."
He smirked, letting one hand drift up her leg to the apex of her thighs. "You know, they say making love makes labor easier."
She smiled and kissed him deeply. "Then I suppose we better get started."
Another chapter that has me swooning over fictional characters that my delusional ass thinks are my best friends. Well, as the French say, soo la voo or whatever. Happy Wednesday!