Yes Tom

I drifted into quiet thought after HE came and got in bed. The air had changed. It seemed to do that a lot when he was around, but mum never said anything. In fact, she never said anything about his oddness. I guess that's how mum is though. She never really made a fuss about my own awkward fuzziness. The uneven breathing in the room seemed loud and echoed, bouncing off of the walls filling my ears with the obvious presence of both mum and him in the room. Inside I was feeling the tension in the room build, or that could've just been, inside of me, inside my head but it was too much and I sat up.

"Mum, I'm going to go take a bath, okay?"

Looking at my son I frown a bit, but at his look of what I could describe only as a mix of desperation and question. Why the emotions I was unsure but I let it go, "Of course dear. I'll be here when you're done."

"Okay." I say as I scoot out of the covers and down to the edge of the bed and standing. I look at her, glance quickly at him, he's watching me and I look away back into mums' eyes and I smile a small smile at her, before turning and heading out of the room.

"Just call if you need anything, alright love?"

Turning a bit to face her again, "I will mum."

The squeaking of the floorboards crash against my ears until I hear the bathroom door shut and the water run. I sigh.

"Angel, have you inquired further about this Khristo boy?"

His question catching me off guard I rotate my head to look at Tom. "Uh… Yes. Why?"

"I am merely curious, that is all."

He says. His eyes do not give away, nor hint at anything but I only look at him. Question in my eyes. The silence drags on for at least three minutes before I speak, "You wish to know his last name then?"

"Yes."

"Kir. Khristo Kir." I pause a minute and gaze at his form. He's laying there, his eyes focused upon the ceiling, fingers clasped, intertwined in silent contemplation and my curiosity is peaked. "Are you going to do something?" My voice sounding loud amongst the quiet of the room, but it didn't seem to phase his focus.

"Does it matter what I do?"

I glare at him and he turns his head, raising his eyebrows. "Yes. Yes it does matter." He doesn't move, his face frozen in inquisition. "If it means that his life becomes worse at school, then it does matter, and that would make not only him, but me quite upset. If he is unwell, unhappy, and feeling unwelcome somewhere then I will do whatever I have to, to reverse it."

He nods, "I see. That's very interesting. And if I were to include him in whatever I deem necessary to do?"

"Tom, now that that just seems ominous. If you are to do anything, you could perhaps locate the boys' family, ask about a meeting and bring Tommy-something like that. I just-I just don't want his life to be any harder than what it must be at school."

"Angel, I understand your concern."

I scoff, "Do you? How can you Tom? You barely even acknowledge his presence, how can you understand my concern if you do not know him?"

Deeply sighing, he rolls his eyes and moves his head back so that he's staring at the ceiling again. "Angel, Angel, Angel, he is my son, is he not?" Her breath hitches at that question. "I assure you, whatever I do, it will be in his favor. Of that, you have no reason to worry."

"Tom, love," I reach my arm out and caress his chest, "I know how you "handle" things. I just don't want him mixed up in that sort of stuff. Promise me that whatever you do, you speak with him on it and give him a say in the manner since it's his life. Please?"

He doesn't move, doesn't acknowledge my touch. "I shall consider your requests, Angel."

Exhaling, I know that's the only answer that I'll receive from him. I move across the bed and lay there, my head resting upon his shoulder, my right arm across his chest, caressing the toned muscle. The only acknowledgement of my forward action is the unclasping of his folded hands and his arm moving to rest upon the small of my back. Swirling in my stomach though is the unsure feeling of uncertainty at what he's up to and how it will affect my baby. But I suppose that's the danger of being the wife of Tom Riddle, and perhaps even more so being the son of Tom Riddle.