Forever
Merope isn't sure when she fell in love with the Muggle. She isn't sure when it was no longer important to her to be a good pureblood witch, one of the last descendents of Salazar Slytherin. She isn't sure when she simply stopped caring what her father thought.
Huddled in the corner of the kitchen, Merope reads the Muggle story of Cinderella and hopes that Tom will become her prince charming.
-
Tom indeed becomes prince charming. But not to her.
Merope watches, infuriated, every day as she hears the high pitched laugh of Cecilia as she rides, walks, drives past with Tom. He should be mine, she thinks.
Cecilia is everything she isn't and Merope knows it.
But no matter, she tells herself. I'm a witch. She's a Muggle. She can't win.
The bubbling pink liquid in her cauldron assures her of this.
-
Merope tips the bright pink liquid into her husband's morning coffee and watches as it dissolves. She leaves some at the bottom of the vial. Just a tiny bit less than yesterday. Just a tiny bit more truth.
Perhaps this will be the day, she thinks and hopes.
As she stares fondly into his eyes, she wonders if it is just her imagination that the clouds have lessened, and a fraction of the mist lifted.
A part of her knows that Tom's going to leave her. She knows it as much as she knows that the baby growing inside her right now is going to become one of the most powerful wizards of all time. But she still hopes. Just as she sits in front of the mirror, brushing her hair and hoping. Maybe if she brushes hard enough it will change from the lank brown mess it is to the cornsilk blonde of Cecilia.
There are glamours and potions that can help her. Merope knows this. But she wants Tom to love her. Not some dolled up marionette.
"Do you love me, Tom," she asks.
He answers perfectly. "Forever."
-
Forever lasts exactly four months, five days and six hours.
It takes that long for the loving expression Tom gave her to become sour. It takes that long for his lip to curl in her direction. It takes that long for their relationship (Merope wonders if there ever was one) to disintegrate.
"I want out," Tom says abruptly. "I don't know what you did… what witchery you played on me, woman. But I don't want to be married to you. I never did. I'm leaving in the morning."
Merope hears him but the words seem to mean nothing.
Leaving.
Leaving.
Tom was leaving her.
She walks slowly over to their dressing table, the one she spent hours picking out, and opens the bottom drawer. There, tucked among her underwear, was her wand.
"You want to know what witchery I played?" Her voice is remarkably calm and steady. Controlled. "Incendio!" She watches as the newspaper Tom is holding goes up in a controlled fire.
He drops it with a yell and backs away from her. "You… demon!"
As Merope stares in his eyes, she knows that she's lost him forever.
-
Merope holds her baby in her arms and she can feel her life slipping away. "Tom Marvolo Riddle," she whispers. "You're going to be great. I know it. You're going to live forever."
Baby Tom opens his bright blue eyes and she sees the universe reflected in them.