Disclaimer: Obviously, I don't own Harry Potter.
Summary: See previous chapter.
CHAPTER TWO
Everything changed when Tom came down off his High Horse (literally) and took notice and helped Merope Gaunt, and thought that the way her face and eyes shone with her every expression could easily overcome any physical deformity.
Slowly, they began to fall in love. Mr. Bryce, the Caretaker, helped by giving them a place to meet. He had no family, but he had been in love once, to a plain girl with a kind heart. He was no prize, himself, and felt sympathy for little Merope, who latched onto even this small bit of kindness, that her own father had never given. She smiled at him, and Frank saw what Tom did: a lonely, frightened girl with a gift for love.
Fortune is a fickle dame, but much of that ever-changing nature can be laid upon the choices made by the Humans that she watches.
When Tom's family began to pressure him to marry Cecelia, Tom and Merope came to a crossroad. If Tom refused, he could easily be cut off, and he had no real knowledge of how to support himself, let alone a wife and family. But he had grown to care for Merope, and would not, could not, abandon her. So he sat back to make plans.
Merope, for her part, saw Tom's withdrawal as a possibility that he was re-thinking their relationship. Merope's mother, before she died, was an accomplished Potions Mistress, and had left a book of recipes behind. She had cooked since she was old enough to hold a skillet (but not old enough to brain her brother with the implement) and Frank had taught her how to read and write and count.
But she did not have the funds for ingredients, or the advanced knowledge to brew it, and potions drew upon the innate magic that Merope didn't think she had, which was why Muggles couldn't brew Potions.
Besides, Love Potions only made a person THINK that they were in love, but they couldn't create real affection. It would be living a lie, and despite her ancestry, Merope had no love for deception.
If Tom were to love her, it would be without the aid of a potion.
When Tom came to visit that afternoon, telling her that he planned on confronting Mr. and Mrs. Riddle at dinner that night, Merope knew that it was time for the Truth. She told him that she was a witch, showing him the moving picture that she had of her mother, and the wand and spell book that her father had given her, trying to force her to show magic.
Tom and Mr. Bryce had to sit down for a while, and Merope left them alone to think, praying to anyone who would listen that she had not just doomed herself.
Her fears were unfounded, as Tom came flying out of the cottage not five minutes later, calling her name. He kissed her, and told her he loved her, and that everything would be all right. His parents had no other close relatives, so they could not afford to cut him off entirely, and he had the little flat in near Eton, where his parents had intended for him to go to University.
Merope had few academic skills, but she could sew like a dream, and her mending lasted for years. Perhaps it came from doing all of the chores, or perhaps it was he magic showing itself in a small, almost un-noticeable, way. She found work at a dressmaker's shop, and earned enough, with the small allowance that Tom still received, to pay for a small wedding (Just them, and the priest, and Frank to give her away and stand in as a witness) and to keep them going while Tom studied. It was not what Tom was used to, but he wouldn't give up.
Mr. and Mrs. Riddle relented enough to invite them back for Christmas, two years later, a few months after Tom and Merope found themselves unexpected parents-to-be. As they walked through Little Hangleton, Merope wrapped an arm around her husband's waist and asked how she was so lucky to have found him.
Tom pulled her closer, his arm around her shoulders, and laughed that she had bewitched him from the moment their eyes met, a private joke between the two of them.
The older Riddles were still not happy that Tom had refused to marry Cecelia, but knew that a scandal would be even worse, if Tom up and left his wife with no warning, and especially if he suddenly got back together with his ex-girlfriend.
Besides, there is something about grandchildren that makes even the most hostile in-law forget what they had been complaining about.
Tom had not wanted to leave for a two-month internship, but it was a requirement to graduate his course. Merope had told him that it was only two months, and that she would be fine.
But she wasn't fine. By pure chance, Cecelia had come into the shop where she worked, seen the young woman responsible for the death of her dreams, and demanded that either the owner get rid of 'that little eyesore', or Cecelia would make sure that most of the high society would withdraw their patronage. It was a hard choice, but Merope was let go.
There was some money saved up, but not enough to pay the bills. Merope had gone out to pawn her locket, a family heirloom, when her labour-pains started, six weeks early.
Merope was not robust, and knew no healing spells, not that she could ever perform them. The only hospital she could get to in time had no room, and Tom wasn't due back for another few days.
Desperate, she made her way to an orphanage, knowing that they could at least send a telegram to her husband, and care for her son until he returned, if there were complications.
The Matron, Mrs. Cole, took her in and started bossing the other workers around, ordering one to send for a doctor, another to help her make Merope comfortable, one to send a telegram to the father, others to fetch hot water and towels…
Merope knew that she was not physically strong, knew that complications in childbirth were not rare, and knew that premature birth increased the risk for both mother and child. In spite of that, she had no intention of giving up on her child, and eighteen years of abuse had left both scars, and a will of iron.
For almost a day, she struggled through the birth, and held her son for the first time. She smiled up at Mrs. Cole and said that she hoped her baby looked like his papa.
He would be named for his father, of course, and she considered the middle name of 'Frank', for the man who had helped bring Tom and Merope together. But, no, 'Marvolo' was more of a Wizarding name, and if she didn't survive, she wanted her son to know of his heritage. Tom accepted that she was a witch, but had no real knowledge of the Wizarding World.
Merope was dangerously weak, but stubbornly clung onto life until Tom arrived at a panicked run, almost tripping over a chair. Merope, though still bed-ridden was nursing Little Tom at the time, and tried to stifle a laugh. Tom looked dazed as he sat down next to her.
Tom looked down at the tiny life that he and Merope had created together, and resolved that if the worst happened and Merope didn't survive, there would still be nothing short of death that would make him abandon their son.
And everything changed.
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A/N: I had originally meant to leave the storyline changes up to the reader's imagination, but realized that, much like the epilogue, it was far too vague. So, here is the second chapter, which I hope lives up to expectations. I tried to put in as much Canon as possible, albeit with a twist.
Whether Merope lives or dies is up to your imaginations, but opinions and enough encouragement might get me to do a third instalment about Tom Marvolo Riddle growing up.