Riddle Manor (Harry Potter) (Merope Gaunt x Tom Riddle Sr.)

A/N: So I was reading through some wonderful Merope/Tom stories and I wished there were more, and so I thought I should make one as well. This ended up being quite a long oneshot, to my surprise. I was inspired by Downton Abbey when writing this. Also, I hope Merope and Tom are not too OOC...

DISCLAIMER: J.K. Rowling owns all, I’m just a fan of her books and their movie adaptations.

It was a warm, bright and sunny day in the village of Little Hangleton. Just on the outskirts of the village lay the rundown cottage where Merope Gaunt had once lived in misery with her father and her brother. The cottage was now vacant. Merope’s father was dead now, and her brother was locked away in Askaban. She grieved for their loss, but at the same time she felt so much freer. Her father had called her a disgusting little Squib, but the truth was that his and her brother’s physical and mental abuse had suppressed her magical abilities. After she was away from them, she found herself able to perform spells, and she even started experimenting with potions. She was not in full control of her magic, sometimes things happened which she had not wanted, based on her moods. And it was such an occurrence that led to her wandlessly healing Tom Riddle. Merope had been watching him riding his horse, as he often did, on the track that led past her home. She had expected he would ride straight past, as usual. Tom would sometimes glance at the shack, and if that happened Merope would duck down behind the hedge so he would not notice her.

She loved to watch him, but she did not like to see him look at her. On the rare times he had seen her, he had an expression on his face that Merope knew was a mixture of repulsion and pity. To Tom, she was simply the old tramp’s daughter. The noble house of Salazar Slytherin and her being pureblood would mean nothing to him. In the Muggle world, he was the pureblood equivalent. He lived in a manor, and his family owned much of the land in Little Hangleton. He was so handsome and full of life. That was what had attracted her to him. She was meant to despise Muggles. Muggles were scum, according to her family. Yet Merope could never bring herself to feel the same way. Tom was perfect. He was the lone brilliant star shining in a dark night sky, always just out of Merope’s reach. She knew she was no beauty, not like Cecilia, who sometimes accompanied Tom when he went horse riding. Cecilia had auburn hair that fell down her back in soft, silky waves and bright blue eyes, with a delicate build and a fair complexion. Merope’s long brown hair was dull and a mess of tangles, her eyes were a murky dark brown, her face was plain and she was too thin. Merope knew Tom would never want her, but that had not stopped her from having hope that one day he would see her in a new light. Merope had fallen in love with him. All she could do was watch him from afar.

Yet, as he rode past her cottage something spooked his horse, which reared back suddenly. Tom lost his grip on the reins and had fallen off the horse. Merope had watched this event, and was too shocked to move for a few moments. That soon passed, and she found herself running over to the site where Tom’s prone body lay on the dirt path. She knelt by his side, and her eyes roamed over him. She had never been so close to him before, but she could not take the time to enjoy it and instead examined him for signs of life. He had always been pale, but now he was far too pale. One of his legs was bent at an unnatural angle and she was sure it was broken. He had a cut on his head that was bleeding profusely. Merope leaned over him and had cried in sheer relief when she realized he was still breathing, although it was only faintly. Merope had tightly taken hold of his hand and willed him to open his eyes. He did not. He just lay there, still and quiet. Merope had been on the verge of going to get her wand or calling for help when suddenly a golden light appeared around his body. He became less pale. The cut on his head faded and disappeared entirely, although the blood that had already trickled out of the cut remained. His breathing evened out and became stronger. His leg was no longer bent in an unnatural position. The golden light had disappeared as quickly as it had come.