AN: Written for Era Obscurum's challenge.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.
Amortentia
by maybeknot
"You can't escape these wicked games."
Merope looked at her sleeping husband. Some part of her, some little, far away part, was sure that what she was doing was wrong. Tom didn't love her. He probably would never love her.
This wasn't love.
It was Amortentia, the closest they could get.
During the day, she would stare at him while he did his daily tasks. He said that he'd do anything for her. Hah. What a joke. He looked different. But she couldn't figure out why. His hair was still as perfect as ever, his smile even more so, his laugh full of spirit. And it was all for her. For Merope, the one all the villagers laughed at.
But Tom was different. One day, while he was telling her how beautiful her eyes were (Beautiful? Hardly. They were quite ugly, and Merope knew it. However, flattery always feels nice.), Merope realized what it was.
It was his eyes.
They were blank, dull, devoid of any life. They were nothing like the eyes she'd seen before. They didn't look handsome and proud (and vain and egoistic and judgmental).
It was like their relationship, she realized. Looking wonderful to the passersby, but it was nothing. It wasn't love. Not like the couples she saw, eyes full of life, mouths full of smiles, arms full of children. She wished she could be like them.
Sometimes, Merope waited too long to give the next dose of the potion. Tom would look confused, he would stare all around. He wouldn't realize why he was here. Or how he was here, for that matter. Every so often, Merope waited too long on purpose, just to see his eyes, back to normal (back to before her).
She wanted Tom to love her, without her tricks, her games, her potions.
Merope wished. Then, she sighed, and continued mixing the potion.
Sometimes, wishes don't come true.
AN: Quote is from the song "Wicked Games" by Chronic Future. Reviews are my drug of choice.