London
By Montley
Merope gazed out the window of her small shack as Tom Riddle passed by on his elegant horse. She sighed in contentment; he was alone, without that terrible girl who had stolen his heart instead of her.
Merope wished that she could leave the shack and walk up to him, start a normal conversation, but even if he could see past her looks, her father or brother would curse him for simply being a muggle, a belief that Merope detested. She would never want any damage to come to him, for she loved him more than she could possibly bear.
Even if the handsome boy could come to love her, there would never be any hope with her family. It hurt to see him, knowing that he was betrothed to that girl, but she loved seeing him and his smiling face with his horse, which she had frequently imagined would carry them away to happiness and a new life.
"MEROPE!" her father yelled. She immediately jumped from her position by the window and with one last look at her love scurried away to tend to her father's whim.
'Soon, my dear,' she thought. "Soon."
