July, 1926
Days passed. Weeks passed. Heck, years could have passed for all Merope noticed. She was living in heaven. A heaven she never knew existed.
For the first couple of weeks, Merope had busied herself making the cottage a home. No one had lived in it for a month or two, so everything was dusty. But even when it was covered in two inch thick mothballs, Merope could tell it was a lovely place. Very small; it held only a kitchen, bedroom, bathroom and living room, and was quite literally square in shape. But it was cosy. Perfect for two people. Especially two newlyweds.
Merope always had the windows open to let in a fresh breeze, had plants and flowers cluttering the window sills. She even changed the colour of the curtains with magic; when Tom wasn't looking, of course. Merope let into her life the colour she had always been denied. Her life became so simple. Wake, cook, clean, cook, make love to Tom, sleep. Repeat.
Fortnightly she administered Amortentia to Tom in his nightly wine. Although it pained Merope to do so, her spirits always lifted with Tom's fresh look of infatuation.
But, as time wore on, Merope grew unhappy in the marriage. It wasn't like she no longer loved Tom. God, it was far from it. It was that they hardly talked. Not about important things, anyway. It was always "Should we get a new couch?" from Merope, and "My darling, you are so beautiful!" from Tom. He loved her, yes. And Merope loved him. But she wanted to live how she had imagined; with more meaning. Their relationship was physical. She wanted something spiritual.
Surely... surely after having so many doses of Amortentia, something would stick? Part of him would always desire Merope? Surely... that could happen?
But Merope wasn't so sure. She deeply wanted it, but what if she lost him? What if he went back to being the Tom Riddle he really was? Merope didn't think she could handle him to look at her as he used to again. So she kept having him drink the potion. Though she grew more reluctant every time.
One day, long after they had settled in, both Merope and Tom awoke feeling strange. Tom had a fever, and begun vomiting into the pot Merope quickly fetched for him. But Merope just felt ... different. She couldn't quite put her finger on it. Certain she was a little bit drowsy, she decided to take a hot shower, running the water before she was ready in order to drown out the sound of Tom's vomiting.
She took a moment to breathe in the steam from the running water, before taking her stained dress off, leaving her naked. She stood looking at herself in the mirror, though she couldn't see much through the steam. Only a fuzzy outline. It was like her life, really. No detail, only a brief sketch. Merope grabbed her wand out of her dress and used it to blow cool air over the steam on the mirror. Slowly, it began to evaporate. Once Merope could see her reflection, odd eyes bright, she noticed why she felt different. She had gained weight. How extraordinary. She looked so much healthier. But ... that was strange. Yes, she was eating more nutritiously with slightly larger portions, but they still had to be lenient with their food, because they were trying to lie low, and couldn't order horse-and-cart delivered groceries on a regular basis.
So why had Merope gained weight? Especially in her lower stomach. Why, she almost looked -
Merope froze, heart pounding, stomach sinking. She couldn't be. Looking frantically around the bathroom, she grabbed the newspaper lying on the floor by the toilet. Her vision blurred as she read the date. It was July. Even if this paper wasn't recent, it meant it had been more than four months since her last menstrual period. She had been living in such bliss that she hadn't even noticed.
Merope dropped the paper in a daze. Pregnant. Pregnant. With Tom's child! Slowly, as recognition seeped in, she let a grin form on her face. How extraordinary.
After caressing her budding stomach for a few minutes, Merope flew open the door and ran into the bedroom, forgetting she was naked.
"Tom! My darling!" she exclaimed.
His head didn't even emerge from the pot as he mumbled, "Yes, my sweet?"
No, now wasn't the time. Not when he was like this.
"Oh... um, nevermind."
But a sickening thought occured to Merope. What if Amortentia was making him so unwell? Was it possible to overdose? Merope bit her bottom lip as she made her decision. She was going to stop administering the potion. It was a massive risk, but she believed he would still love her without it. How could he not, after all this time? And especially once she told him she was carrying his child. This had to work. It had to.
It took Tom three days to be well again, but after that he was still bedridden. It was the day before that Merope should have given him the potion and now, she waited anxiously by his side, watching for any sign that the potion had worn off.
It was on the third day of Merope's waiting when it happened. She came into the bedroom with the newspaper for Tom, to find him sitting up as opposed to sleeping as he usually did, and staring into the distance.
"Darling?" Merope asked cautiously.
Tom turned his tired eyes onto her, before they widened in shock. "Who are you?" he asked, looking alarmed.
Merope's heart sank as she replied, "It's ... Merope, my love. We - we are married."
"Married?!" Tom exclaimed, looking horrified. He swung his legs out of bed.
Merope hurried over. "Please, Tom, don't leave!" she grabbed his arm as he stood up.
"Don't touch me!" he said, shoving her aside. "Wait, I know you ... You - your from that old house on the hill ... you gave me water and -"
Recognition took over his features as the past rose like the dawn before him.
"Oh, my God," he said, looking towards Merope, who was shaking in the corner, tears splashing to the floor. "Oh, my God!" His look of horror turned to disgust. "What - ?"
"My darling, you can't leave! I'm pregnant!" Merope sobbed, grabbing his arm again as he took a few steps back. "I am pregnant with your child!"
"Oh, God!" Tom exclaimed. "How -? What-? What have you done?!" he spat in her face.
"Tom, I - I'm sorry! It was a potion -"
"You drugged me?" he shouted in his face. He was so angry. Each word stabbed Merope's heart.
"No! Tom, never! It was - it was m-m-magic!" the word slipped out before she could stop it.
"Magic?" Tom barely whispered.
"I - I'm a witch ... But I love you Tom! I thought we could live happily together!"
"What?! With you?" he looked apalled. He began opening and closing his mouth, unable to get out what he wanted to. He ran a hand through his hair and growled, making Merope jump.
He suddenly froze, before raising his head slowly. "Did you say 'witch'?"
Now it was Merope's turn to open and close her mouth. She tried to nod, but it turned into an odd jerk.
Tom stared at her for a few long minutes, trying to comprehend. He began to back away from her slowly. "Witch?" he kept whispering. "Witch?"
Merope watched him back away through the litres of salty tears forming and spilling from her eyes. But when he reached the door, she took a step toward him.
He ran.
Merope's breath caught in her throat as she followed him, but he was faster. She stopped at the front doorway, watching in shock as Tom ran down the road screaming, "Witch! A witch! Help!"
Merope continued to watch, frozen where she stood, for several seconds, before adreneline kicked in, and she too, ran. But in the opposite direction.
She constantly stubbed her toes on rocks and fell over uneven ground as she ran blindly, sobbing all the way. She passed street signs but did not read them. She did not know where or who she was, nor did she know where she was going. She ran like she had never run before.
Eventually, she came to a stop. By tripping over a rock that sent her flying into a (thankfully) soft patch of grass, and there, she passed out; lost in her exhaustion and grief.
Merope opened her eyes to morning. She was confused for several seconds as to why she was lying on the ground and what had woken her up, until everything came flooding back, and she became aware of a hand gripping her arm, attached to a male voice saying, "Up you get, love."
She raised her head blearily to look at the man above her. She saw him do the usual recoil of shock at Merope's appearance, but she knew he must have had even more reason to do so now. Her face was smeared with dirt from her fall, her eyes swollen and bloodshot, slightly crusted together from her tears. But the man recovered his features straight away, so Merope could see his kindly face hidden by a short, grey beard.
"Come on, love," he said, tugging her arm. "Let's get ye on yer feet, now."
Merope slowly stood upright, using the man for support. Once the old man was sure she wasn't going to fall over, he let go of her arm, leaving Merope to rub her eyes and take in her surroundings.
She was standing on the edge of a dirt road, on which stood a horse and cart, presumably belonging to the man standing in front of her. It was a fairly open area, with only a few trees scattered around. Merope felt vulnerable standing in the open like so, when people would surely be looking for her; but she was far from Great Hangleton.
"Now, why you be sleeping on the ground, like?" the man asked.
Merope sighed softly, holding back tears as she thought of the real reason. "I ran away from home," she said quietly. "I have no one anymore."
"And where be home, then?"
Merope just stared at her feet until the man said, "Alright, I understand."
He examined her for a few minutes before removing his newsboy cap to reveal a balding head, which he rubbed in thought.
"You wanna go to London?" he asked. "I gotta drop in some supplies to my niece. You can come if you want."
After a few long moments, Merope nodded. There was nothing here for her now but heartbreak. So Merope sat beside the man in his cart, which contained at least twelve large crates, and a smaller one. Merope could not see their contents.
The old man introduced himself as Richard Jones. "But you can call me Dick. Everyone does." he winked, before he informed her that the trip to London would take the whole day. During the first hour on the road, Dick tried to make small talk, but gave up after Merope replied with one word, or just didn't answer at all. She slept uncomfortably for most of the trip, a hand protectively resting over her belly.
Merope woke at twilight, again to Dick's hand on her arm.
"We're here, love."
Merope yawned and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. They were on a narrow, cobbled street, where everything appeared grey-blue in colour. The buildings were close together, and tall, making Merope feel claustrophobic after the conditions she was used to. The stones were damp and emitting an unpleasant stench. A rat ran past Merope as she hopped down from the cart.
Dick grabbed the smaller crate from the back of the cart, and carried it towards the door of one of the buildings, with Merope behind him. Inside was cold and dark, except for a single lit candle to one corner, which displayed the mysterious silhouette of a young woman, who started as they entered.
"Uncle Dick?" she said hoarsely.
"Yes, love. I've bought you some food and blankets and ... some company." Dick said, setting the crate down on a table. "This is Merope. Merope, this is my niece Cecilia. Cecilia Jones."