Chapter Text
Every day for weeks, Tom Riddle Jr. visited his "companion" and their child. After that ordeal in the Hospital Wing, he had no idea how to perceive her affections. Was it just the hormones from their son's birth still lingering? If not, and if it were true, then could he love her? He did indeed feel something while holding their son, but something like this is different and delicate. For the upcoming months, he was very attentive to their needs. He would secretly visit her at the infirmary after getting her homework for the day. The excuse was not just being a prefect, but helping a fellow peer out. The first two weeks, she was restless, but they ate together and he'd watch her sleep. He didn't mean to drag his finger across her cheek, contemplating his life. He kept wondering if he should forget about setting the Basilisk loose to rid the school of "those" kinds of people. He thought about his family, living with them and raising Aaron. Alas, the founder's legacy was left to him as the presumptive last descendant of Salazar Slytherin, subsequently his successor. His ambition won out and steamrolled over his emotions in the end.
Around June 13th, a Ravenclaw girl was killed by his inheritance. Laurene didn't know that this was a testament to his ability as heir, to prove himself. They wanted proof; this was proof. She was making her rounds, same as him, but on the other side of the castle. After the "incident", the infant was taken from him to the grandparents' estate. He wasn't safe to be left in the Room of Requirement like before. They ended up finding the enchantment on the seventh corridor after the boy kept crying. They wished to set him down in a soothing environment, and there it was. The new parents set him in a pristine bassinet, fit for a Lord’s scion. Confoundedly, he became the ward of Hogwarts itself. It seemed to have recognized “founder’s blood” in the little one.
They would go there after classes, as this would be the only place without potential prying eyes. Aaron was such a hyperactive baby, especially when coddled and cooed at. The infant got especially delighted to see his parents from above or when gently lifted out. When he was taken away, his father felt a pang of guilt and anguish. Tom NEVER thought of being a father, especially not after all that happened to him. His youth was abysmal at best and exorcisms at worst. All those "trials", that pitiful, oppressive, and wretched upbringing of Wool's orphanage. He decided to give up on any possibility of family as a child. Consequently, those experiences were believed to have prevented him from caring and raising his own. Astoundingly, all things considered, he was quite good at it.
Originally, he thought of the newborn as a statistic rather than a potential future family member. However, after that confrontation with the boy's mother and consecutive acknowledgement of what he already knew, he changed. Moreover, now that their son was born, how? How could he have helped produce something so "pure"? Furthermore, it seems that there were no persisting effects from the potion of that night passed into him. It occurred to him that there could have been a loss of the capability to love, which was a 50/50 percent chance, he knew, yes. The little blond bundle was undoubtedly the product of his mother, surely, as he was such a happy babe. Echoing the Matron, he was "silent" and "shellless" the moment he was born. There was no crying, no screaming, just deep, bottomless eyes with an even more empty stare. They all believed that he was a "freak" from conception. He was treated like a disease, even now. He wouldn't allow that to happen to his son, ever.
This was something that just wouldn't be included in the "facts" section on his future chocolate frog card. He loved him, yet he had forsaken them anyway. His son was a part of him that he couldn't lose, even at the threat of death, his world. He thought the murder was what needed to be done. It was his "destiny". He had no choice, but he did. He only stopped at one because the school would be forced to close if there were more. He did feel a little bad for ruining Laure's birthday prematurely, so he convinced her that everything was going to be "okay" and to protect their son. He promised to write and left for Wool's soon after. Her parents took glee in that, to have their grandson with them and away from him.
Once August rolled around, he enacted his scheme. He pondered while walking up the manor's steps, his Muggle inheritance. He wanted revenge yes, but what about Aaron and Laurene? What about the relationship they could have had with them? The memories they could have had, if it weren't for him? His father with his grandson? What would he say and or do? He never knew his father, but if he’s anything like himself…what about his grandparents? Would they shun him? Disown him? Leave them to rot? If he succeeded in his endeavor, what would Aaron think when older? What would he feel when he found out? Would he hate him? What about Laurene? Would she leave him? Her "sentiments" were his. His family…could NEVER know. He became resolute after this thought, cast Alohomora, and stormed inside the mansion.