Title: All That's Bottled Up Inside
Setting: London and Little Hangleton, during the early 1900s
Summary: Merope's life in reverse, from her death, to her marriage, all the way back to her childhood. Five scenes of her life that Dumbledore and Harry never found out, and five scenes that wouldn't mean much to anyone else but her.
Disclaimer: First, thanks to daysandweeks for the challenge! I enjoyed writing it very much. J.K. Rowling takes the credit for Harry Potter.
Chapter One
Fireflies
The afterbirth slid out of her; Merope moaned with effort and was silent.
"Good girl," the woman clucked gently, and the grip she had on the young girl's hand turned into a comforting hold. "Good girl."
Soft pants of air were all the young witch could manage. Merope closed her eyes, and concentrated on breathing. She knew that she was dying — the midwives hadn't been able to stop the flow of blood, and she could not summon the courage, or the magic, to do so herself. But she was not distressed. In fact, she felt a melancholy sort of happiness take over. She couldn't bear another moment without him.
Finally, weakly, she pulled her fingers from the woman's hand. "Mrs. Cole . . . please, some water." The woman bustled away and returned quickly with a small, dingy glass, which Merope drank from gratefully.
"What will you name him?" Mrs. Cole prompted as she took the empty cup.
"Tom Marvolo Riddle, please, ma'am. Tom for h-his father, and Marvolo for mine."
The woman smiled. "Tom Marvolo Riddle. A fine name. He will be a marvelous little boy." She hesitated, then asked, "Would you like to hold him?"
Merope stared. "I-is that . . . is it alright?"
"Of course, dear. Just hold your arms out — that's right . . ." Mrs. Cole instructed her, and soon, Merope cradled her newborn child in her arms. She watched him, detached, feeling that last hold she had on her husband finally severed. He was no longer a part of her. The baby gurgled and toyed with her finger, but she could not even summon a smile. "I hope he looks like his papa," she intoned.
Mrs. Cole cleared her throat gently and murmured, "You need your rest. I will take care of little Tom." Merope heard it as a promise and managed a feeble nod. "I'll let you rest, dear." Mrs. Cole took the small bundle from the young girl's arms and led him out of the room. From the bed, she watched him go, too weak to do anything but sigh and turn away.
Outside of the window, the whole sky was lit with stars, like the fireflies she'd so often played with when she was young — vibrating, so alive, waiting for a hand to chase them away.
Merope closed her eyes, and slept.