Merope Gaunt always considered being a pure-blood a huge burden. When a Pureblood, you had to remain composed at all times; act as though you were superior to everyone else. You were expected to keep your bloodline pure when you carried it on, or you were shunned from your family, and made to live with the fact that your even closest relatives pretended you didn't exist. When a Pureblood, it was expected of you to have high magical abilities, and it was an absolute disgrace to be a Squib.
Merope often envied the Muggleborns and Halfbloods, with their seemingly lawless lives. She even envied Muggles, even though she would never admit this to her father or brother.
Her father, Marvolo, adored being a Pureblood, and flaunted it in the face of everybody he met. Morfin, her brother, took on their father's views with no thoughts against (Merope often told herself this was because he was incapable of thought) and made their father extremely proud when he was expelled from Hogwarts for cursing a Muggleborn. Merope had never attended Hogwarts because, as her father often said, she was a "filithy Squib and a disgrace to the family" and Hogwarts was no place for a Squib. Merope's job was to look after her father and brother, and to make sure nobody "of note" knew she existed.
Merope often found herself staring out of the window as she did the washing up, by hand, and watching the impeccably handsome boy from the village as he drove past in his fancy automobile. She found herself wishing that she was a Muggle; that she was worthy of being with him. Occasionally, he would look in her direction, and frown. She would instantly look down, ashamed.
Marvolo and Morfin abused her, both mentally and physically, and she often found herself in a corner, nursing her wounds.
Morfin was soon carted off to Azkaban, and Marvolo soon followed. Merope often found herself strolling down the dirty, cobbled streets of Knockturn Alley, gazing into windows of shops. A light money bag was nestled into the lining of her cloak, and she rested her hand on it at all times, untrusting of other people. The time she spent at her shack of a home she spent gazing at the handsome Tom Riddle, and imagining various fantasies where they were together.
When a Love Potion caught her eye from a shop window, she stood with bated breath. Did she dare? Did she really want someone to love her because of a silly little potion, and not because he had taken the time to fall in love with her himself? She soon decided that she didn't care, as long as he was hers and she was rescued from the Hell she called home.
She spiked a goblet of water with the potion, and sat on her stone doorstep, waiting for him to drive by. It was starting to get dark when he finally did. He looked exhausted. She gestured for him to pull over, which he did hesitantly, and offered him the goblet. He frowned, but took it. His eyes became unfocused, and a look of sickly infatuation crossed his face.
He immediately requested that they wed, and Merope agreed instantly. The only reminders she took with her of her old life was the clothes she wore and the ring her father so often boasted about. They wed within a month, and Merope fell pregnant soon after.
There was a quickly rising reservoir of guilt boiling in her stomach when she looked at her husband and his unfocused eyes. There was no love in those eyes, only infatuation.
The time came when guilt overwhelmed her and she stopped her husband's intake of Love Potion. The moment he came around, and she told him the truth, he left without looking back.
She was left to wander Knockturn Alley again, heavily pregnant. She sold her father's treasured ring, and retreated to the streets of Muggle London. She went into labour outside a large, dull building, and was taken in by a group of women.
The labour was short, and Merope was able to glimpse her son and announce the desired name for him before the light was extinguished in Merope Riddle's eyes forever.
A/N: Feedback is always appreciated.