Hello! A new type of fic here – an account of what might have gone on between Merope and Tom Riddle Sr., and afterwards up to the point of her death. I have tried to stay in canon and intend to fill in the blanks as written in 'The Half-Blood Prince'. You might want to read Chapter Ten, 'The House of Gaunt' before reading this as a reminder. Contains strong language and references to sexual situations.

'Is it true?' said Gaunt in a deadly voice, advancing a step or two towards the terrified girl. 'My daughter – pure-blooded descendent of Salazar Slytherin – hankering after a filthy, dirt-veined muggle?'

Merope shook her head frantically, pressing herself into the wall, apparently unable to speak.

'You disgusting little squib! You filthy little blood traitor!' Roared Gaunt, losing control, and his hands closed around his daughter's throat.

'What happened to the girl in the cottage?' Said Harry at once, as Dumbledore lit extra lamps with a flick of his wand. 'Merope, or whatever her name was?'

'Oh, she survived,' Said Dumbledore, reseating himself behind his desk and indicating that Harry should sit down too. 'Ogden apparated back to the ministry and returned with reinforcements within fifteen minutes. Morfin and his father attempted to fight, but both were overpowered, removed from the cottage and subsequently convicted by the Wizemgamot.'

Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince, Chapter Ten: The House of Gaunt

'Good riddance! Mudblood scum!' Marvolo yelled at the echo of the crack from Ogden's disapparition charm, still firing badly aimed curses up the lane. Merope could see him clearly through the dingy cottage window, spittle foaming at the corners of his mouth as he snarled and hissed with incandescent rage. She was scared. More scared than usual. She was used to a basal level of torment from her brother and father, but she'd really done it this time.

Merope stood in the corner of the dirty, stained kitchen. She always retreated to this spot, backing against the grimy walls and hoping they wouldn't see her. But she had been well and truly noticed today, and she had done something unforgivable. Her brother was already advancing upon her, a sick, unhinged smile on his face. His mad, mismatched eyes glinted as he enjoyed watching her cringe.

'Slut of mudbloods and muggles, you are,' he hissed at her in parseltongue, 'just wait until father comes back inside –' she could still hear Marvolo's deranged screaming coming from the lane, '- he's gonna hurt you good and proper this time, you filthy little whore.' He giggled; it was a perverse sound – the sound a child would make at the prospect of an exciting game.

Merope slunk further into her corner, tears of fear and despair sliding down her grimy, pallid face. Morfin stood there, imprisoning her, laughing. She hated him. She hated herself. She hated everything about this life. Merope had never fitted in with her family. She was weak willed and weak minded – her magic was weak too. She didn't possess the streaks of defiance and cunning that were so prized in her family, and she didn't care about being pureblood or a descendent of Slytherin. When had it ever helped her in her miserable, pathetic excuse for a life? All she was to her family was a sickly branch on a prized family tree – and that's the only reason she had been allowed to live. As for outside of the family… no one knew or cared she existed. She was doomed to spend the rest of her days in grotty clothes in this dingy hovel, cooking and cleaning for her family – who loved nothing more than to abuse her and tell her how absolutely useless she truly was. She knew how it would most likely end up too… Whether she was a Gaunt or not, no pureblood wizard would ever want her, and her father would deem no one 'good enough' to carry the blood of Gaunt anyway. It was inevitable that she would be forced to be with Morfin, and carry his children – pure Gaunts to carry on the bloodline.

The terrible thing was that this barely even made her shudder. Nothing had ever really shocked her. Merope had seen all manner of things growing up in this house, and mostly had just gone along with it – anything to make life less of a struggle. She would never defy them. She didn't have the strength physically, mentally or emotionally to do anything about this situation. She was… absolutely defeated, and accepted her fate with grim, miserable apathy.

Merope slid down the wall and slumped onto the floor. She was so… tired. Perhaps when her father came back in from venting his rage at Ogden, he would finally go further than he ever had before – and rather than beating her or torturing her with the Cruciatus curse, he would just kill her. Accidentally or on purpose, she didn't care. She had nothing to live for. The only place that held any solace for her was her fantasy world, where she and Tom were together and irretrievably in love… maybe death was like dreaming, maybe she could spend eternity in her fantasy… maybe.

Morfin was still giggling insanely at her, and things had gone ominously silent in the lane. She closed her eyes and retreated into herself; to that corner of her mind she went when things were too much. When she opened her eyes again, they were glazed. She could see everything going on, but it was like witnessing it through a bubble; a thick, impenetrable bubble where the sound of slanderous abuse became distorted and the pain of punches was dulled.

She heard Marvolo's heavy footsteps back towards the house as if through water, and Morfin's giggle was barely audible anymore. Her father marched towards where Morfin was standing and stood with him, uniting against her, sneering down upon her with derision and loathing. She saw all this on the periphery of her vision, her unfocussed eyes staring ahead unblinkingly. He grabbed her by the hair and pulled her upright, screaming obscenities in her face; she knew that the tugging sensation on her scalp was painful, but couldn't feel it, she was aware that a gob of saliva had landed just under her left eye, but wasn't repulsed. He slapped her around the cheek with all his might, but the sting didn't break her bubble. Nothing could wrench her from her safe place. Nothing… except –

'Crucio!'

Merope was wrenched back to reality with the most violent of tugs. Her bubble popped forcefully, the walls shattered with agonising intensity, and unimaginable pain encompassed every inch of her, so deep within her it felt like it would never leave. Screams flowed out of her like blood and she begged, pleaded with whatever powers that be that she would just be allowed to die. Just let it end. Please, oh please, oh please!

And it did. The pain stopped, and she was left in a crumpled heap on the floor, covered in sweat and urine, her face flat against the dirty, cold flagstones. She could hear voices, soft, reasonable voices. Maybe this was it. Maybe this was death, and the people who belonged to those voices were there to welcome her, clean her up and take her on to the afterlife – away from this place to somewhere beautiful and free.

Merope looked up. Ogden was back, with four other people, all with their wands pointing at the unconscious forms of her brother and father. Her mouth fell open as they were bound before her eyes. A woman had lowered her wand and was approaching her. Merope looked at her with wonder. She probably was a woman of average attractiveness, but to Merope, she seemed to be the most exquisite beauty she had ever seen. Clean and neat and fragrant, with a way of holding herself that indicated confidence and power, and a face that was… Merope had never seen an expression like it, she wasn't sure but perhaps it was… kindness.

'Merope?' Said the woman quietly. Merope backed back into her corner instinctively. 'Are you alright?'

She had never been 'alright' in her life, so she didn't respond, just sat there and stared at her.

'We are going to take your father and brother to Azkaban, to await a hearing for assaulting a ministry official… amongst other things…' she looked at their unconscious forms with distaste. 'I have come to take you to St. Mungo's Hospital. My name is Aetheria.'

Merope shook her head. Her father would never permit her to leave the house without his permission, he would be furious. She curled her legs up to herself in the corner and tried to make herself as small as possible.

Aetheria looked at her sympathetically. 'Alright, we don't have to go to the hospital. But I am a healer, and I am going to give you a check over before I leave you here, ok?'

Merope nodded, not fully aware what she was agreeing to. She had learnt that it was easier just to be compliant. The other four ministry officials set about moving Morfin and Marvolo. She watched disbelievingly as they were levitated out of the door, and she stared onto the lane through the window as the officials apparated away with her family. They were gone. Gone. She was free. It was all too much to take in. She shot one last look of bewilderment at Aetheria, and fainted.

A review would really make my day ;) Thanks so much for reading!