For goodness's sake, why?
"...Do you want me to pinch you again, Tommy?"
---Drat.
Tom Riddle clamped his mouth shut.
This was no time to be blankly looking out of the window with his mouth hanging open.
"No, no, Helen, don't eat that yet---"
A few waves of his not-quite-wand while Helen squirmed and mumbled she was hungry confirmed that the rice-balls were (A) transfigured (B) originally some kind of corn beef sandwich (C) apparently free from any hexes or poisons otherwise.
Since it had been originally food to begin with, eating it should cause no problem. The original sandwich hadn't seemed to be all that fresh, but it wasn't like it had spoiled or anything...
Oh, well, they'd probably taste better as rice-balls, anyway.
He let Helen eat a mouthfull and made her wait half an hour anyway. Oh, he knew quite well that poisoning or hexing children just wasn't the Wolf's style---he would have made Helen throw them out no matter what if that had not been the case---but it always was important to be careful, just in case.
"---What's the pinkish stuff, Tommy? It's salty-sour!"
"Chopped pickled plums, probably. They're good for you."
Or they would be, if they actually were what they tasted like, instead of originally corn beef, bread and whatnot, anyhow.
The Wolf of Mibu. Here? Now?
Though now that he'd had time to think about it---the ShadowWar had started up long before it had finally spilled over into the open. What the history books were to call the War against Grindelwald actually was only a rather small portion of the conflict that had gone on for generations, after all...
The Wolf had been here, sitting right in front.
And he'd been snoozing away and dreaming of the Mini-Malfoy Incident, of all things.
Now. Had the Wolf bothered to "peek", first of all? He hadn't felt anybody trying to enter his mind, but then, this was the Wolf. Not to mention that it was quite possible to just feel the general "outlines" of a mind and thought-flows without actually diving right in. And he knew for a fact that the Wolf was damn good at that.
So---did he or didn't he?
Though to be honest with himself, it was actually a matter of "how much", he supposed. Though he couldn't think of a reason why the Wolf would want to stage a full-fledged mind-dive on a random Magical brat with a home-made not-wand that he happened to meet on a train---the situation (All right, the Helen situation, mostly) would seem odd enough that he'd try at least a look-see as a matter of course.
Which meant that---
---Oh, hell. He should be truthful with at least himself for once, and admit that he had no idea what that meant, exactly.
Except the Wolf had given Helen rice-balls. And had left him slumbering, dreaming of sweet potatos and babies.
Oh, well.
---He'd probably gotten nothing but some impressions of a 8 month year old baby, anyway.
The Mini-Malfoy Incident.
Now that had been a pretty pickle...
Mashed sweet potatos and a Baby Malfoy on his knee---Tom Riddle quietly sighes.
He seemed to do that often, these days.
Something had begun to change.
(Hello dear baby, my dear my dear)
He noticed things, sometimes. Like the little fact that Lucius actually didn't take after his father all that much at all, despite surface similarities. Lucius actually had a brain.
(Mama loves you Papa too---)
Not that he bothered to use it, much, but at least he had access to some kind of imagination and flexibility.
(BounceBounceBounce, you bounce all the time. Why?)
Or maybe that Bellatrix Black---Lestrange, now---sounded just like her Great-Aunt, sometimes, even though they looked not at all alike---
(Silly little thing, stop kicking me, all right? I'm your mother, young man!)
He just wasn't sure from when, that was all.
When he had swept into Malfoy Manor in the dead of the night, one summer evening, determined to do something about the little matter of the Malfoy's not providing him with a proper Malfoy heir for four long years once and for all---Perhaps then?
But perhaps not.
Lucius and Narcissa really were suited to each other, he had decided that night. Boneheaded to the core, both of them. He'd never had so much bloody trouble putting anybody under Imperious, in all of his 60 odd years---And the fact that they were both actually nominially intelligent and strong in Magic just managed to make everything even worse. His reserves had almost been drained just putting them both under, even before he'd started on all the complicated things.
Sheer idiocy.
Not that he had actually tried anything especially ambitious, mind. Not with Lucius Malfoy and Bellatrix's sister, of all people. Even he knew better then that---or he hoped he did, at least.
Keep things simple, keep things sweet, keep the parameters open and all would be right.
And all had been right, he reminded himself as he slowly rocked the baby. Come now little one, Malfoy's don't cry...
Strong, healthy, Magical as any creature that wandered the Dark Forest. He'd been so proud, that day---could it be only two months ago? Strange how time seemed to pass so quickly sometimes--- when bubbles had rippled and twirled from the child's toy wand...
There would be no "failure to thrive", not for this one!
Though if he'd actually realized at the start just what his "little experiment" was going to entail...He wasn't really sure he could have gone through with it in the first place. Imperio variants monthly, weekly, sometimes even more. To both parents.
It was utterly idiotic. For Narcissa to keep wandering back to the thought that the fetus in her womb was a worm trying to eat her from the inside was bad enough, but Lucius, Lucius...
So what if he couldn't stand to see her with her belly extended, despite the fact that both of them had been trying quite sincerely for this very outcome for years? Why the hell did he have to Imperio him almost daily to stop him from screaming at his wife, telling her what a disgusting fat sow she was, anyway?
And then there had been all those...complications.
All right, all right, that had partially been his fault, he supposed. He hadn't expected the little Draco-to-be's Magical baseline to be quite that high, and Narcissa had started to have the most alarming fainting fits and worse. Thank goodness he'd realized what had to be done in time.
The bypass linking Lucius into the Mother-child powerlink had worked quite well, if he said so himself.
Though the sight of Narcissa and Lucius cuddling together, letting their Magical energies intwine and feed their child was...oh well, let us call a spade a spade and call it what it was.
Cute.
It would had been even better if they both hadn't needed to be Imperio'd into sockpuppets to do that kind of thing, but whatever. Things could had been worse.
...Really.
And after the child had been born...
Note to self : If you ever find yourself in a situation even just faintly resembling that one...Find somebody else to babysit the new parents.
Please.
Actually, Narcissa, it is better to breast-feed if at all possible, you're a witch damnit, you can fix your breasts afterwards if you want too, and yes, hold him sometimes, rock him sometimes, and talk to him too. He wouldn't break.
I know he can't understand what you're saying yet, all right?
You too, Lucius. And stop twiching. Hold the child, he won't bite. And hold him anyway if he does.
---Lucius, Lucius, Lucius...
Who cares how much the House-elves would sulk!
Another note to self : Check to see how many of your loyal followers have actually been brought up by House-elves.
He has pretty sure he knew the answer already, though.
Lots.
"Applefield, Applefield."
Tom Riddle nearly bangs his head agaisnt the window.
"Helen! Get up! We have to get off!"
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(Posted Fri, 25 Feb 2005 18:16)
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