Tom had been driving Evelyn nuts for approximately... thirty-two weeks. Ever since he had found out she was pregnant, he had decided to up his protectiveness from extremely high to making Evelyn feel like she was in a prison cell instead of her own home. When Tom said he was never leaving her side, Evelyn didn't realize he actually meant it. True to his word, Tom never left her. And she meant never. He followed her to the bathroom "in case she fell", took his paper in the den while she was trying to enjoy her books "in case she needed anything and he was too far away to help", and even spent his afternoons watching her nap. He couldn't even come up with an excuse for why he did that.

The first twenty-four hours after Evelyn told Tom she was pregnant were complete bliss. Full of lovemaking, kissing, and happy tears. He couldn't take his hands off her small yet still slightly swollen belly and the smile had never left her face.

Every hour after those twenty-four though? Well... complete bliss wouldn't be how she would describe them. Not at all.

It started with the enchantments. Riddle Manor was already extremely protected but now that Evelyn was with child, it was apparently insufficient for their needs. He dragged her out to the gardens while he placed spell after spell. Now, even Mattheo couldn't enter the manor, not without touching either Evelyn, Tom, or any of their future children.

"Tom, isn't this a little excessive?" she whined one day after he continued to cast invisible charms around the grounds.

"Nothing is too excessive for my family," he grumbled in that surly voice of his that let her know he wouldn't accept any argument on the matter. "Now that I'm the Dark Lord, our enemies will stop at nothing to try and weaken me. They've already hurt you. They will not hurt our children."

The protective mama bear inside of her loved that their children would always be safe but the grumpy, pregnant woman was tired of being dragged outside all day. Not that she had been sitting in the sun, of course. Tom had somehow learned a charm to cast a permanent cloud over her head so she would always be shaded.

Then, he stopped letting her do anything for herself. It sounds nice, of course, not having to lift a single finger. Until she couldn't lift any finger at all because Tom wouldn't let her. At first, she adored the way he carried her everywhere, the way he dressed her and got her ready for the day, the way he even flipped the pages of her book for her. But it soon got old when Evelyn couldn't walk to the bathroom by herself or lift her fork to her mouth without Tom insisting that he would do it for her.

"You need your strength, Little Dove," he would murmur, brushing her hair back from her head in the way that she liked so she wouldn't be as frustrated. It was impossible to be angry at him when he was being so goddamn caring. Why did he have to be incredible?

"Tom. I'm going insane," she whined one day when she was about three months along and going completely berserk. She hadn't left the manor except for doctor's appointments in weeks. "Can we please go to London? We can shop or go visit my aunt and uncle."

He wrinkled his nose. "London has far too much pollution. It's bad for the baby. And you don't need the added stress of the crowds." She groaned far too loudly, which earned not just a scowl from him but also a punishment in the bedroom for her "attitude".

Tom arranged for all of her visitors to come to the manor instead, thinking that it would solve his wife's frustration. Mattheo, Sirius, and Vivian were allowed to visit along with some higher-up pureblood families. Families like the Notts or the Malfoys, whose children would later go on to become their friends once they graduated from Hogwarts. Of course, all visitors were screened extremely. They had to turn in their wands and get checked for weapons before having a potion that Tom invented that eliminated germs and illnesses spritzed on them. This would have been excessive but bearable if not for the fact that said visitors had to remain on the complete other side of the room from her. The only exception to that rule was Mattheo, as Evelyn said that the baby's uncle should be able to be a part of the pregnancy. Tom only relented when she—with her strong, pregnancy anger and short temper—threatened to move her stuff to the other side of the house.

Her attitude had caused issues at times. Evelyn felt like her hormones were so out of whack that she could hardly think straight through it all. He was going to be a stinker when he finally came out.

Yes. He. At their fourteen-week scan, Tom and Evelyn looked at the little black and white bean, clutching on to each other as they waited to see what their baby was. Neither of them cared in the slightest—and Evelyn was really just hoping to see a healthy baby more than anything, as she was sure Tom was too—but curiosity did get the better of them as they waited with anticipation to find out.

"It's a boy," the doctor finally said. "Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Riddle. You're having a son."

"A boy," she croaked, eyes welling up with tears as she stared at the screen. "Did you hear that, Tom? We're having a boy."

He smiled and kissed her cheek. "A beautiful one."

Surprisingly, the naming part was easy for them. Both of them had decided early on in the pregnancy that they wanted their children to have their own names. In pureblood society, it was so common to name children after their parents. Take Tom. He was Tom Riddle III and while there was nothing wrong with that, both Evelyn and Tom wanted their children to feel like they could forge their own paths in life. Starting out with their name.

They bounced back and forth, calling out names whenever they thought of them, though that was rare. Finally, Evelyn was reading a novel one day—one about pirates and adventure since Tom took away all of her gothic horror books, claiming that they weren't good for the baby—when she saw the perfect one.

"How about James?" she said softly to him when she was about five months along. He was reading the Daily Prophet, which he had started to do often lately. He said it was because he wanted to read up on threats and opportunities, things that might affect his position or their family. Secretly, Evelyn just wondered if he was as bored as she was locked up in that house.

"James," Tom said, testing it out on his tongue for a few moments. Then, a slow smile broke out on his face. "I love it. James it is."

With a name picked out for their baby, everything started to feel a lot more real. The nursery, which was bare save for furniture, began to be decorated in wondrous shades of black and dark green. A little moody for a normal baby, perhaps, but perfect for their baby. Tom even managed to find a mobile with little snakes on it, though she forbade him from adding a charm to make them hiss.

Suddenly, every little annoying bit of pregnancy seemed a little more wonderful. When Evelyn craved entirely weird things—like this odd concoction of buttered toast, spiced pumpkin spread, and parmesan cheese—it became something to laugh at. "Oh, James has an odd appetite," she would joke as she chowed down on the food that made Mattheo vomit to smell. "James is practicing martial arts today," she would wave off with a laugh when he kicked her repeatedly. "James is having a temper tantrum," she said when her anger was so bad that magical fire sprouted from her. Said anger was caused by Tom's refusal to fetch her a key lime pie at three in the morning. It was safe to say that by three-thirty, Evelyn was happily eating a pie in bed while Tom worked on repairing the singed curtains.

And before either of them knew it, Evelyn was forty weeks along. Her feet were swollen, her stomach was large, and she was pretty sure she had gone up three cup sizes but she didn't care. Every time she looked in the mirror, all she could see was how beautiful it was that she had a baby inside of her. A baby they had never expected to have, a baby that would forever and always be their little miracle.

Evelyn was eating her most recent craving of cottage cheese and sriracha sauce while Tom checked that everything was packed in their hospital bag for the thousandth time. He had done it multiple times a day every day since she had passed the thirty-two-week mark. While they originally wanted to have their baby at home—as most wizards did—Evelyn couldn't. They still didn't know the full extent of her reproductive system's healing and they couldn't check while the baby was still inside of her. So she would be giving birth at Saint Mungo's where multiple healers could keep an eye on her in case something proved to be wrong.

"I'm starting to wonder if they based zeppelins off of pregnant women," Evelyn mumbled through her snack, shifting on her feet to avoid swelling. Lately, it had been so hard to sit down that she had been standing more than usual. "I feel like I'm completely full of helium. Do you think—"

But instead of a completed sentence, all that could be heard in the dining room was the sound of a spoon clattering to the floor followed by a breathless moan of pain. Evelyn clutched at her stomach, trying desperately not to fall to the ground.

"Tom," she whimpered. He was there in an instant, strong arms holding her up while worried eyes gazed into his.

"Are you alright? Are you in pain? How far are your contractions?"

"Tom, my water broke," she gritted. He looked down at the ground, saw the rug splattered with liquid, and looked back up at her.

"Alright," he said in the calm, smooth voice she needed. "It's going to be alright, Little Dove. I'm going to grab the bag and then we'll take the floo to the hospital." She nodded and let him take charge.

Immediately, Tom went into action. He grabbed everything they needed before walking her over to the fireplace and quickly getting them to Saint Mungo's. As soon as they arrived, he began barking orders to all of the healers until they were placed in a private room. He helped Evelyn over to the bed and dressed her in the hospital gown.

"You are the only woman who could make one of these look sexy," he mumbled, kissing her lightly. She laughed, thankful that he was attempting to distract her from the intense pain in her uterus. "Now. Let's have our son."

. . .

Two, long hours later, things were a little different in that hospital room. Tom Riddle's hand was bruised from how hard his wife was squeezing it. Evelyn Riddle was exhausted, sweating, and a lot less temperamental. And James Arcturus Riddle had made his little debut to the world.

Evelyn sobbed as soon as he was out of her body. Partly because of relief that the process was over but mostly because her son was here. He was here and he was crying and yet she already knew she loved him. The healer quickly placed him on her chest while his little fists shook from the cold.

Something between a laugh and a cry exited her body as she moved her arms to hold him. "Hi, James," she cooed breathlessly, still panting from all of the hard work. Somewhere, a wand was waved and the baby was cleaned up in an instant. "Hi, baby."

"He's beautiful," Tom murmured, appearing behind her shoulder. "Absolutely beautiful."

"My beautiful boy," she whispered, staring into the little bean's face. Two eyes. One nose. One mouth—which was definitely making his feelings about the ordeal known. Two hands. Two feet. One little heart. He was perfect in every way. Tom was right. He was beautiful.

"That's our son." Evelyn leaned against him, drawing strength from him. During the labour, Tom held her hand and tried to push as much power as he could down their bond. Now, he was doing the same, his powerful magic helping her recuperate quickly. "Our little boy."

He kissed her cheek and stared down at James, who had finally calmed down now that he seemed to realize the real world wasn't so bad after all. It was a realization Evelyn herself had had not long ago.

"I know," she whispered to her newborn child as he started to cry again. "I know, little James. The world can seem so scary. But it's not. It's beautiful. Trust me. And you have me. You have your daddy. Uncle Mattheo, Great Aunt Vivian, Great Uncle Sirius. You have a family, little one." Evelyn looked up at Tom and smiled. "You have love."

Sobbing, crying, throwing up, everything. Our little girl Evelyn is all grown up and healed, having babies and being happy. The perfect little ending for her and I'm so glad to have given her this closing chapter.

And for those of you who are like "wait, there's one more Riddle and you just said that this is Evelyn's closing chapter", the next chapter will be from Tom's POV so, in a way, we are saying goodbye to Evelyn Black /3 If you need me, I'll be sobbing in a corner or something (lol).