The Love Story of Harriet Potter and Tom Riddle

Chapter 29 - A Message?

Thank you for reading! I don't own any of Harry Potter! Please let me know if you enjoy! Updates every Saturday!
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Tom woke to the sound of a quill scratching across parchment.

He furrowed his brow as he looked over, saw Harriet seated at the desk, and asked, ".......Sweetling?"

His dark eyes narrowed as his mate failed to answer.

"........Sweetling?" He repeated.

When his inquiry was met with silence again, he stood from the bed and walked over to his mate as he asked, "Harriet? Are you alright? Why aren't you answering me?"

Tom furrowed his brow as he stared at his wife's mechanical movements as she scribbled on the parchment in perfectly even lines although her eyes stared straight ahead.

"Harriet....." Tom called, "Harriet!"

The mechanical movements of her wrist disturbed Tom nearly as much as the words she wrote, which came out scrawled in a font that was not her own and a language he could not read.

"Harriet!" Tom called again, "Stop!"

Harriet held her unblinking stare as she suddenly stopped writing.

"What are you doing?!" Tom demanded.

In the silent moment that followed, Tom watched the steady rise and fall of his darling's chest.

Her breath was deep and rhythmic, peaceful........

Tom dove into her thoughts instantly and realized to his confusion that his wife remained asleep.

While he tried to guess what could have possibly happened, she slammed her hand down in one mechanical crack that startled him into a jolt.

He watched his mate spread her palm over the message she had written before a small circle of burning fire ignited underneath her skin.

Tom rushed over to the nightstand to grab his wand, but by the time he turned back around, Harriet had already left the desk, slipped into her nest, and laid with the covers up to her chest, eyes closed.

His breathing was ragged with frightened frustration as he rushed over to the desk.

A perfect circle had been burned into the message, although the desk bore no scorch marks from the flame.

Tom hurried back over to the bed and examined Harriet's hand.

The smooth skin of her palm and fingers bewildered him.

For the rest of night, Tom kept a vigilant watch over his wife, angry, annoyed, and more than he wanted to admit.......scared.

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The healers pushed Harriet's bizarre behavior aside as simple sleepwalking.

Madam Pomfrey didn't entirely believe the odd events Tom claimed to have witnessed.

Harriet insisted he had a bad dream, but as weeks passed, she began to feel a difference in her body.

The letters she had exchanged with Mrs. Weasley and the talks she had enjoyed with Merope had prepared her, but that still didn't make it any more comfortable when she spent a portion of each morning with her head over the toilet.

Each day, Tom stood loyally behind her with her dark hair held in his hands while she retched.

A Cloaking Spell hid the sound of his voice and erased his image from others' view as he wiped Harriet's face off and whispered soft words of loving encouragement to her during every bout of violent sickness.