Tom Riddle woke to a crack of bland light streaming in through the blind over the window. It was early, he thought, dawn or a little later and the sound of soft rain on the roof above him was lulling and gentle, so he lay there for a little while, content to just be.

Below him, he thought he could hear the low exchange of people, already awake, possibly the cook and his assistant. Soft breath on his bare back made his skin prickle and he turned with a smile to look upon the face of the girl lying next to him. He could barely see her face in the spared light, but he could just make out her silhouette. He reached out to touch her, to make sure she was real and traced the line of her cheekbones, down to her button nose and to her slightly parted mouth and then past her face, along her collarbone, her delicate arms, one of her dainty hands which rested on the pillow. He leaned over her and kissed her gently on her brow and then softly slipped out of bed to feel his way across the room to the adjoining bathroom. Something was wrong. Something wasn't…

He turned on the taps and after closing the door shut, pulled open the blind. Grey light filtered through the frosted glass fitted in the windows. He stared through it, mind roiling with thought and doubt and confusion.

When the basin was filled, he plunged his head into the cold water and came up. The water ran down his face and neck in rivulets, down his back.

He glared at his reflection. His skin seemed paler in this light, dark hair plastered to his forehead with the water. A square jaw with prominent cheekbones and cool, dark eyes. What was wrong with him? Why couldn't he…

'Tom?'

He turned, as if disturbed by a loud noise.

'Merope…' she was standing in the doorway, plain but… somehow beautiful. A wintry quality about her pale skin, her curving mouth. She pulled her straw coloured hair from her face. It made her look lost and bewildered, and coupled with her nudity, she looked altogether frail and wan. Tom was suddenly conscious of his own naked body.

'You aren't going, are you?' she whispered, coming over to him. 'You aren't going to leave me?'

'Hush.' He condoled soothingly, 'Don't talk like that.'

'I thought you'd realised.' She said quietly, and with a jolt he realised she was crying.

'Realised what?' he asked, pulling her to him.

'N…nothing.' She murmured. She pressed her face into his shoulder and he felt the cold wet of her tears.

He cupped her face and brushed her eyes with his thumbs. 'I will not leave you, Merope.' He promised. She looked imploringly into his face, as if she were looking to see if he meant it. He kissed her mouth and folded his arms around her.

She returned the gesture with tentative care, her hands encircling his back. He could feel her heart under his hand. He sighed inwardly and kissed her deeper, letting the feel of her lips lift his spirits.

They broke apart. His heart tore with the hurt in her eyes. He could not bear to think that he could do that to her. 'Oh, Merope.' He lifted her into his arms and laid her softly on the bed.

She pulled the covers across them both. 'Don't leave me Tom.' She said.

'Never.' He swore under his breath.