In a hundred lifetimes, in a hundred worlds, in any version of reality, I'd find you.
Fandoms Without Non-Canon Ships: A Court Of Thorns and Roses, Throne Of Glass, Three Dark Crowns, The Ranger's Apprentice, The Lunar Chronicles, Once Upon a Time...
A/N: Just a little Drabble I thought of in the shower, hope you enjoy. I take requests.
AU: Merope doesn't die giving birth to Tom in the orphanage and she raises him.
Years later, Tom still becomes Voldemort and opens the Chamber, creates his horcruxes, kills his paternal family and blames Morfin. —————————————————————————————————————————————
Narrator's POV
Inside of Wool's Orphanage on December 31, 1945, a woman lied in bed feeding her newborn.
But the woman, named Merope Gaunt, was also dying.
She looked into her son's blue eyes and felt the power that lurked beneath them.
The woman found the strength she needed to live.
***
A few weeks later, the woman stood outside of Borgin and Burkes' and pulled her locket out from beneath her shirt, her infant being held with her free arm.
She looked at it and wondered, "How much can I get for this?"
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She smiled as the baby reached for it and pulled it into his teething mouth, second thought playing in her mind.
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***
About three decades later, Merope found herself in Riddle Manor, the Slytherin Locket still around her neck as she entered her son's office.
"Mother, why do you hate me?" The Dark Lord asks, not looking up
"What?" The woman says, surprised at her son's words
"I can see it in your eyes, mother. You hate me, just a little bit." Voldemort says, finally looking at her
"I hate you because whenever I look into your eyes, I see the girl I used to be: the pale, scared, naive girl who smelled of filth. I hate you because right before you were born, when your father left us, he told me that he loved me and then he went back to his grand fiancée and his grand house and his grand life whilst I lay pathetic and half dead on soggy newspapers begging strangers for food. I hate you because you are everything I wish I could be." Merope answered, massing his shoulders
Voldemort frowned and sipped at his whiskey.
"I love you because when you when you were two years old and hadn't said a word, I took you to the healer and he said that 'you'd be a late bloomer' I was scared that you'd be mute but you surprised me the very next day because you said 'I love you, muma' and I realized that you didn't want to speak until you could talk in sentences. I love you because the first time you tried walking, you ran straight into my arms. I love you because when you were little you'd always beg me to tell you stories about our ancestors. I love you because your accidental magic might have harmed animals and others, but was never targeted at me. I love you because you are everything I could have wished for and more." Merope said, hugging her son from behind
The corners of Voldemort's lips just barely hinted at a smile as he allowed his mother to hug him.
"Tom," Merope started, making the Dark Wizard frown again, "I know you hate the name I gave you, cut me some slack people aren't their most creative when approaching death but let me finish. Tom, for the tiny reasons I hate you for, I love you for a lot of bigger reasons, don't ever doubt that I love you. I know you struggle with emotion —which is completely my fault because how you were conceived— but deep down, I know you love me too."
***
Four decades later, after the Battle of Hogwarts, the school was completely empty, people either celebrating the fall of Voldemort or mourning the dead, one woman walked through the school's courtyard.
She wondered around the corpses of the Death Eaters, stopping in front of each one, looking fir one in particular.
When she found the one she was looking for, in the center of the courtyard, she knelt next to his body.
Tears streaming down her face, she said, "Oh, Tom, my baby boy."
She then shut his open eyes while simultaneously pressing a kiss to his cold forehead.
Taking the yew wand out if his cold hands, she used her limited magic to burn his body, she wouldn't give the world the satisfaction or desecrating his body.
When the flames disappeared, she pulled a small trunk out of her bag and began scooping his ashes into it, trying not to mix tears with the ashes.
When she was done, she put the trunk back into her bag and walked into the center of the Forbidden Forest.
She looked around, thinking, "Tom would like it here.", then hand dug a small hole and placed the chest inside of it and covered it in dirt.
Merope then dragged a large stone behind the small grave and used her magic to write on it, thus exhausting her core.
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Tears still going down her face, the almost-Squib slowly walked away: it was always a tragedy when the parent outlives the child.
