I had stomach in my butterflies, I mean butterflies in my stomach.

All my fears of hating the baby when he arrived were gone. His dark blue eyes shone up at me and he hadn't even cried since entering this world.

I was vaguely aware of the healers arriving, I was also aware that Ada screamed upon their arrival from the fireplace. It would have been comical if I wasn't bewitched by the baby in my arms.

"What are you doing?" I asked as one of the healers tried to take Tom from my arms.

"I just need to check him, ma'am, you mentioned he isn't due till December," the healer said, her hands trying to take the baby from me. What if she was a death eater in disguise? This would be the perfect time to take him when he couldn't even defend himself.

"It's okay, Romy," Polly assured me, setting her hand on my shoulder as she crouched down next to me. "They just want to make sure he's okay."

I let my hands loosen on Tom and watched carefully as the healer cast a few spells on him, giving a small smile as she handed him back to me.

"He's doing perfectly given the circumstances. Has he got a name?" looked over at Merry, who'd been covered by a sheet and gently placed on a stretcher ready to be taken back to St Mungos.

"Thomas Marvolo Riddle," I told the healer looking back down at the baby. Merry had agreed when I suggested calling him Thomas instead of Tom. It had resulted in teasing from Merry because she thought I was calling him Thomas after Tommy, but in reality, I thought Thomas suited the boy better.

"What a strange name," the healer muttered, waving her wand and filling out the birth certificate. "Parents' names."

"Merope Riddle and Tom Riddle," I replied, stroking my thumb over Tom's face, smiling slightly as his blue orbs turned to me.

"Well, we've got a potion that will enable you to breastfeed him, if that's an option." I frowned at the thought of breastfeeding him. Not that I didn't want to do it, part of me wanted the best for him, but this was supposed to be Merry's job. I didn't want to take that away from her. Not when she sacrificed herself for him. "I can leave that here, but we also have a formula for him if you choose to go down that path."

"How long will she have to decide?" Polly asked, taking over when it became clear I wasn't going to talk to the healer.

"The end of the week. The baby will make it known what he wants. If he refuses the formula, it'll have to be breast."

"How does that work? She's not his mother," Ada said, curious over the use of this magic.

"The late mother and Miss Lupin must have signed over parental rights. The baby recognises Miss Lupin as his mother now. They have a familiar bond that's created between mother and baby after birth." The healer paused and I glanced up at her as she smiled down at us fondly. "There are some things that our magic does that are simply outstanding."

"What does that mean?" Ada asked in a hushed tone, afraid she would be yelled at for knowing about magic.

"In every sense of the word, Miss Lupin is Thomas' mother."

Polly thanked the healers and arranged a time for us to collect Merry's body for her funeral. I was left alone with Ada and the baby as Polly rushed upstairs at the sound of Edward crying.

"How did you become Tom's mother?" Ada asked, sitting down in front of me, her eyes on the baby. "I get it had something to do with magic, but how?"

"We have these things called blood-contracts. If you sign a contract in your blood it can basically do a lot of things. In this case, when Merry asked me to become Tom's legal guardian she wanted me to do it with a blood-contract. Because we signed the contract with our blood, it kind of mixes and now my blood runs through Tom's and his through mine, because he shared the same blood as Merry." I was surprised that Ada was able to understand what I was saying as she gave a small nod as I explained to her.

"So would it be possible for a muddle ... ummm, a muggle to do a blood contract?"

"I'm not entirely sure, Ada. It's something I'd have to look into. Why do you want to know?"

"I'm just curious. There seem to be no limits to what your magic can do."

"There are limits," I said looking back down as Tom cooed, turning his head into my chest as he drifted off to sleep. "Trust me, there's a limit."

I was wrong about Tom being a calm baby.

His screams would have kept the whole street up if I hadn't placed a silencing charm around the house.

I was beyond tired and there seemed nothing I could do to help him. He didn't want his bottle, pushing it away every time I tried to get him to drink the formula. He wasn't dirty, he didn't want my comfort. There was something wrong with him.

What if he was ill? What if I'd done something wrong? He'd been crying non-stop for three hours and I think I was about ready to join him.

"Pass him here," Polly said coming into the room and carefully taking the baby from me.

"When did you get here?" I asked, rubbing at my eyes as I climbed out of the bed and followed Polly over to the window. She was resting Tom on her shoulder, rubbing his back as she gently rocked him.

"Finn came and got me, said the baby's been crying for hours."

"I don't know what's wrong with him, Pol. He won't sleep, he won't eat, everything I do is useless."

"Every new mother gets like this, Romy, he can't tell us what he wants so he cries. Luckily for you, I knew what's wrong with him."

"You do?" I wasn't oblivious to the hope in my voice. If I could get just five minutes of sleep I'd be grateful.

"He's probably got wind, that or he's not taking to the formula those witch doctors gave you," she muttered, clicking her tongue at the mention of the formula. Polly had told me her thoughts on the formula. I'd had it non-stop for the last three days.

"You know I'm not keen on the idea of breastfeeding him, it doesn't feel right," I said, looking over to the potion Polly had brought up with her.

"He's your son now, Romy. You're supposed to do everything you can to love and protect him."

"And you think this is right?"

"Look at him, Romy. He's distressed, he needs that familiar comfort a baby seeks when feeding from his mother. If you can't do this you're best off taking him to the orphanage yourself!"

I knew she didn't mean it in the harsh way it sounded, but she was trying to get through to me and it seemed the only way she could do that was with the cold, hard truth.

"I just keep thinking about Merry. He's not really my son, Polly. It should be Merry feeding him and caring for him. It should be Merry loving him and not me. I shouldn't even be here, Polly. This isn't supposed to happen!"

"If that's the way you feel then you should be ashamed of yourself. Merry trusted you to look after her son. She created a bond between the two of you that some women dream about. You want to be selfish because all you can think about is her? Your selfishness will kill this baby."

"I'm tired, Polly."

"You're going to be tired for a long time, Romy, but you will overcome it." I shook my head and glanced between her and the baby. "You have a decision to make."

"I don't know if I can," I told her apparating out of the house and to a very familiar plot of land. "I'm so sorry, Merry," I whispered, resting my fingers over the cold white marble. "I don't know what to do."

It was all grey. Their clothes were dusted with dirt, turning the once khaki green into an ash colour. The tents popped up around them were no different, even their faces were grey.

Tommy thought they were lucky, him, Arthur and John. There weren't many brothers that got to stick together and they were lucky they found each other in the middle of battle. They'd been in the same base camp and hadn't known until the courier carrying letters arrived and 'Shelby' was called out. The three of them replied and each was astonished to find each other in the state they were in.

It was no surprise to Tommy that they'd all be fighting during the Battle of the Somme, or at least, that's what some of the soldiers had started calling it.

One-hundred-and-twenty-odd-days fighting on the River Somme.

"Shelby." Tommy looked up as a soldier came towards him. John and Arthur shifted beside him, their eyes on the pile of letters in the man's hand. "Arthur, John, and Tommy. You're lucky, almost lost the whole sack on the way through," he muttered handing them each a letter.

Tommy was slightly disappointed when he noticed Ada's writing. He'd been expecting a letter from Romy. Even through the tough times when they were sliding between the trenches, he'd found the time to write back to her.

It was like a fire had been lit in his stomach the first proper time she wrote to him. His mind wandered to Greta, but he shook it off as he opened Ada's letter.

Thursday 2nd November, 1916

Tommy,

I'm sorry for the disappointment at being me you receive a letter from.

There's no easy way to say this ...

His heart dropped at Ada's words. What did she mean there was no easy way to say what she wanted?

He glanced over at John and Arthur, noting that both brothers were smiling as they read their letters. So there wasn't any heartbreaking news about the family then. They wouldn't be smiling if something had happened to the family. But there was someone Tommy spoke to that they didn't. Romy. Had something happened to her?

Romy's sister, Merry passed away on the thirty-first. We knew it was going to happen, but it was a shock. To think that we were all celebrating Romy's birthday only for the evening to end with her sister dead.

The baby's okay. Romy and Merry named him Thomas. No, it wasn't in honour of you, though Merry did tease Romy about that.

He's such a sweet thing, but I fear Romy is struggling to love him.

She hasn't read your last letter. I wouldn't be surprised if she doesn't write to you for a while.

Polly's been trying to help her but I wonder if the boy would be better off in an orphanage.

Tommy couldn't believe that Ada would say something like that. She knew how important family was. Hadn't Romy promised to love and bring up Thomas as her own after her sister died?

It must have been bad if Ada was suggesting something like that. Tommy rubbed at his jaw as he read the rest of the letter.

Polly's helping her the best she can, but this is something Romy needs to do. She loves Tom, she really does but all she can see when she looks at him is Merry. I think she wishes it had been her to die instead of her sister.

Did you get the photographs Romy sent? I bet John was excited to receive one of the children. I've got a little gift for you, it was part of Merry's dying wish. Please don't tell Romy I did this, she will never forgive me.

I've sent two photographs for you, Tommy.

I hope you enjoy them,

All my love,

Ada x

Tommy smiled at the kiss Ada sent and fumbled for the envelope pulling out the two photographs concealed inside. He flipped them over and his brows rose in surprise as he looked down at the girl in the photo.

She was younger then he expected. While he'd been picturing someone Ada's age, he was really speaking to someone who'd just become a woman.

She was a very comely girl, with a fair complexion, expressive eyes and light hair. In his mind, he pictured her with dark hair and dark eyes. He'd been wrong on both accounts.

She was a fair thing, light hair, light eyes and a pale complexion. He didn't like the way his stomach tightened as he looked at her.

Switching the photos, he couldn't help the smile as he looked down at Romy holding a tiny baby to her chest. They were both asleep and the peaceful look on Romy's face as she held Thomas close to her was nothing but pure love.

How could Ada possibly believe that Romy wouldn't be a good mother to her nephew? She didn't look like she was struggling, but he knew not everything was always on the surface.

He wouldn't admit the nightmares that woke him in a sweat to anyone. He wouldn't admit that his hands shook with fear and his palms grew slick everytime he burrowed deeper in a tunnel. He couldn't admit that he threw up after his first kill.

It was something that was left unspoken between soldiers and he was happy keeping it silent.

"Who's that?" Arthur asked, picking up the photograph of Romy. Tommy's hand clenched slightly as he fought the urge to rip the photo from Arthur's hands. "Oi, John, Tommy's got 'imself a girl."

"She's not my girl," he argued, rolling his eyes as John scooted over, glancing at the photo. "It's Andromeda, the nanny that looks after your children." For some reason, Tommy didn't want to share Romy's nickname with them.

"Finn writes about her," John muttered, his eyes furrowing as he took the photo from Arthur's hands. "She's a looker."

To his surprise, instead of teasing him, John handed the photograph back and gave Tommy a soft nod, turning back to his letter. Tommy took the photo and placed it over the one of Romy and the baby and placed both in his breast pocket.

Arthur was tactical enough not to mention what he'd seen Tommy do, but he did send his brother a grin, nudging him on the shoulder as the three of them settled down and penned their letter home.

Ada,

I can't tell the date. It might be the 10th or the 11th. I'm not too sure.

Days mix over here and each night I'm thankful we made it through to another day.

For the time being, I'm with John and Arthur. The three of us are safe and that should be a burden lifted from your shoulders. Take care of Finn for us, tell him we think of him everyday.

Tommy paused and looked down at Ada's letter. He knew what he wa about to say would earn him weeks worth of treasing from her, but he thought it was worthwhile.

Keep an eye on Romy for me, Ada. If it gets too bad, let me know.

Love,

Tommy

"You writing to Ada, Tommy?" Arthur asked, folding his letter and handing it over to John.

"Aye," he replied, folding the letter carefully as he looked at his brothers.

"We'll send 'em together then," John said, holding out an envelope that was addressed to Ada. "She wrote and told me that Romy's nephew was born. Another Thomas in the family then, aye."

The fact that John had acknowledged that Romy and Thomas were part of the family had a smile on Tommy's face. The fact that he called the baby Thomas, was something completely different. It was going to be hard knowing which Thomas they were talking about.