Title: Unwanted
Summary: An unwanted girl... an arrogant muggle... a temptation too strong to resist... a love too deep to ignore. Merope/Tom. Contains HBP spoilers.
Pairing: Merope Gaunt/Tom Riddle
Warnings: None that I know of yet
Disclaimer: I do not, of course, own any of these characters, settings, or even the plot, However, the prose in itself is mine, and please ask before you distribute, and remember to credit me.
Genre: Romance/Angst.
Thank you: A Very Very Very humungous thank you to my absolutely fantastic beta Mobilicorpus (Juliet) who I probably would not have the courage to write this without. Also without her help it would probably make no sense due to all my typos and spelling mistakes and grammatical errors! lol, you rock Ju:D
Italics taken from Half-Blood Prince
A/N: This chapter is dedicated to my lovely friend Emma for being supportive and demanding of this chapter, I don't think I would have bothered writing it otherwise, I hope you enjoy it Emma:D
Chapter 2: Hives and Hearings
"That'll be three pence, m'dear,"
"Thank you, Sir,"
She tucked the loaf of bread under her arm and pulled her shawl tighter around her face. Two mismatched eyes peered from under filthy black bangs as Merope Gaunt made her way through the crowded market place.
People swarmed around tiny stalls like flies, pushing and shoving. It was the busiest day of the month for Little Hangleton. It was the autumn market, which meant that people from outside the village came to set up stalls laden with fresh vegetables and bread from all around the country at low prices. Naturally, the entire village had come to collect as much food as they could lay their hands on.
For Merope, it was Hell. She wanted to be at home right now, far away from the shouting and jostling of the squabbling crowd. But they had been running out of food and she knew that this was the only way they could eat something fresh that was cheap.
After what seemed like years of fighting her way through hordes of people, she finally managed to squeeze out into the open. However, just as she thought she was safe, a man pushed her savagely and she fell face forward onto the street, dropping the loaf of bread and a bunch of apples.
Cringing with embarrassment and frustration, she scrambled to collect the food. But just as she reached forward to pick up the last apple, it came into contact with a shiny, black, very expensive-looking shoe. She felt the colour drain from her face.
Slowly she looked up into the strikingly handsome face of Tom Riddle. Yet he was not looking down at her. In fact, he didn't seem to have noticed the ragged girl trembling at his feet- he was staring in disgust at the crowd.
Muttering darkly he turned and walked away, not even realising as he tread on her cloak. Forgetting the apple, she pushed herself up from the ground, and gathering everything in her arms more securely, she ran all the way back to her home.
She sat on the windowsill with her legs tight against her chest, crystal tears falling slowly down her pallid cheeks. A strand of hair fell into her eyes, and she brushed it out of the way, revealing an ugly purple bruise above her left eye.
Her father had gotten angry with her again for taking so long in the market. He had shouted that she shouldn't be wasting her time buying the muck that muggles sold.
Staring into the dark night sky she wondered to herself… what would her life have been like if she was a muggle girl living in the village? Wouldn't her life have been so much better?
A small breeze stroked her face softly and she closed her eyes, taking pleasure in the gentle sensation as she listened to an owl hoot softly somewhere in the night.
She leaned her head against her knees and tried to relax. She tried to ignore the throbbing pain on her forehead and take in the soothing caress of the wind, like velvet against her skin. Allowing herself to fall asleep, Merope was lulled by the faint noises of the night.
She was awoken by the noise of a horse's hooves against the cobbled path. She jumped from the windowsill as if it had scolded her, and ducked down, only to raise her head a little so she could peer out.
It was Tom, riding alone on his black stallion.
It was no surprise to see him riding alone- he had been doing it more often recently, and Merope was always so pleased to be able to watch him for a few seconds. It was part of the reason she always sat on the windowsill.
He always looked so handsome and graceful on his horse. It was something about the way the waves of his hair rippled slightly in the wind, and his eyes shone in the moonlight. The way he rode so upright and proper…Merope was transfixed.
Soon she found herself hanging out the window completely, imagining.
Imagining that he would look up at her for once, and call for her to come down, so they could ride away together.
She could have watched him for hours, but the moment passed quickly and soon he was riding away from the house.
BANG!
All of a sudden Tom was thrown off his horse, and was lying on the ground as if dead. Without thinking Merope screamed, and went rushing down the stairs and outside.
"Morfin, what did you do!" she shrieked, rushing to Tom's side.
Morfin stood with his wand in his hand, cackling wickedly.
Bending over Tom, she gently turned his head upwards and gasped.
"Morfin! You'll be in trouble for this! Fix it!" she cried desperately.
Large, red blotches disfigured Tom's usually attractive features- it looked sore.
"Morfin, come back!" she screamed as her brother ran inside the house, laughing maliciously.
Looking back down at Tom she felt tears prickling the corners of her eyes, but they did not fall, for the handsome muggle had begun to stir.
Immediately he began thrashing about, flailing his arms around.
He seemed to be in obvious pain and began clawing at his face in desperation. Merope tried to pin him down, worried that he would injure himself.
"GET OFF! GET OFF ME WOMAN!" he yelled, struggling ferociously.
"Wait! Please, I can he – "
"GET OFF OF ME!"
And with a vigorous shove, he managed to get her off him, and pushed himself to his feet.
She opened her mouth as if about to say something, but he stared wide eyed and panting, shaking his head slightly.
"You're c-crazy, you're all b-bloody crazy!" he stuttered and went, half running, half staggering, to the village centre.
Merope simply stood there, staring after him as a single tear made its way down her cheek.
She stayed like that for quite a while, shivering a little in the cold.
Wetting the rag, Merope picked up one of the pots, and began to scrub. They had just finished breakfast and it was now time for her to do the washing up.
Her father sat at the table drumming his fingers on the surface and looking bored and grouchy. He was in a very bad mood that morning, more so than usual, and Merope had been doing her best to stay out of his way.
Morfin had gone out somewhere quite early in the morning, and Merope was worried. A lot of the time she wished she could follow Morfin, just to see where he kept going, but she never dared.
She gazed out the window dully as she scrubbed hard on a stubborn mark inside one of the pots. She hadn't had any sleep the night before, she couldn't stop thinking about poor Tom- was he alright? He must be, people from the ministry would have seen to him by now.
But she could not forget the look in his eyes as she had struggled to keep him down- the horror, mingled with that familiar look of disgust. Would he always look at her like that?
She soon found herself wiping the rag round and round the same pot for ages as her imagination took hold, showing her wonderful images of his dazzling smile.
Yet again she was thrown out of her peaceful reverie violently as a loud bang was heard from just outside the door.
She nearly dropped the pot she was holding and across the room she heard her father stand up so forcefully he knocked over the chair, it seemed he had been beginning to doze off.
"What the devil – " he began, but trailed off as Morfin's distinctively wicked cackling was heard.
She was left alone in the room as her father stormed off to see what was happening.
She tried to be quiet as she poured more water in a new pot and lit the fire beneath to heat it, straining her ears to make out the conversation. She could just make out her father's voice, and the voice of another man that she did not recognise.
All of a sudden Morfin entered the room, sniggering. He sat himself down on an old worn chair by the fire and, casting a quick glance over to where she was standing, he smirked. Reaching inside his pocket he brought out an adder and began to play with it, letting it slither in and out between his fingertips.
He was soon followed by another man dressed most absurdly, Merope assumed he was doing his best to appear like a muggle but had done a very poor job.
She let out a small gasp and turned around, trying to occupy herself with putting the now clean pots on the shelf.
The man stared at her curiously and her father, noticing, mentioned her name.
Merope, however, had no interest in the man, and felt that the sooner he left the better. This man was most probably from the ministry and she had a vague idea what this man was here for- but then a thought struck her; what if they thought it was her who attacked Tom?
She turned away quickly, trying to look busy; and again she nearly dropped the pot she was holding when the man bid her good morning.
Terrified that somehow this would get her in trouble with her father, she spared a glance in his direction to see his fuming face, and then turned around and began shoving the pots onto the shelf rapidly.
She then listened nervously as the two men resumed their conversation. Praying to whatever god, that this had nothing to do with last night. But to her sheer horror the man then went on to announcing how Morfin had performed magic in front of a muggle!
Holding back a shriek, she dropped the pot and brought a hand to her mouth, as the heavy pot fell to the ground with a resounding clang.
Falling to the floor as her father ordered her to pick it up, she began scrabbling at the pot uselessly only to let it slip through her fingers once again. Feeling her whole face burn with embarrassment she managed to take out her wand and whisper a quiet 'accio pot', just to find it fire across the room straight into the opposite wall and break into two.
Morfin screeched with laughter from his seat by the fire and her father snarled viciously.
"Mend it, you pointless lump, mend it!" he screamed.
Merope staggered desperately across the room, raising her wand; but just as she approached the pot, she heard 'reparo' from the other side of the room and looked around to see the man from the ministry with his wand raised.
Her father leered at, her looking bitter, as her heart thundered inside her ribcage.
"Lucky the nice man from the ministry's here, isn't it? Perhaps he'll take you off my hands, perhaps he doesn't mind dirty squibs…"
Her eyes stinging, she carefully placed the now repaired pot back onto the shelf, her hands shaking. She backed up against the wall, still trembling, and listened slightly deafly to the now resumed conversation before her.
The man explained how Morfin must attend a hearing at the ministry for attacking a muggle in broad daylight, and Merope's father grew angrier by the second.
Her mind seemed to have turned numb and she was only distracted by her father waving his middle finger in the man's face. It took her a while to realise he was showing him the ring on his finger and shouting that it had been in our family for ages- the usual rant the her father often went on when people showed him disrespect.
The man, however, did not seem impressed.
It was a few seconds before Merope's brain seemed to register her father running at her, howling. She did not have time to pull away until her father had grabbed the locket which hung from her neck, and was dragging her towards the man.
He began yelling manically about Slytherin while Merope tried to breathe against the chain restricting her throat. When he finally finished he let her go- she stumbled away to the wall, rubbing her neck and trying to regain her breath.
The two men continued to argue, but Merope did not acknowledge words as tears began to blur her vision. She fought desperately against them, blinking rapidly.
The voices seemed to die down and the noise of hooves and the tinkle of laughter reached her ears.
A low hiss escaped from Morfin's mouth as he stared out of the window. Their father froze, listening.
It was Tom, and one of his stupid lady friends. They continued to chatter until their voices faded away.
Merope felt numb once again- she had heard Tom call his companion 'darling'.
Apparently Morfin had noticed the same thing, for he whispered;
"Darling, he called her. So he wouldn't have you anyway."
Its was as if the blood running through her veins had turned to ice- she felt her face blanche and she was sure she would pass out. She looked pleadingly at Morfin, but he spilled her dreadful secret while she stood there shaking her head frantically.
It was her worst nightmare come true! Her father advanced upon her, still yelling, and she backed up against the wall even further, wishing she could fall through it and run away.
She let out a shriek as his hands clamped around her neck, shaking her vigorously and, by the time she was sure he would kill her, he was thrown away.
The rest was all flashes of spells and angry shout until she passed out and sank to the ground.
END OF CHAPTER 2
Erm, not much to say really, I cant make you review but I really hope you do because it really does make me very happy!