Dirty Little Creatures

It's the highlight of Merope's day. The one minute Tom is within her view is the reason Merope gets out of bed in the morning - more so than the Cruciatus Curse her father subjects her to when his breakfast is late. She dreams about him scooping her up onto his horse and galloping away from this place as Morfin pants in her ear.

He could take a different route, but Tom prefers to ride by the shack. He enjoys watching the family of tramps in their natural environment.

When all her chores are finished Merope sits on a tree stump and stares at the Riddle Manor. It's only on a hill and it takes less time to walk to its gate than it takes her to boil a pot of water for tea, but it might as well be on the moon. Ever since she could remember, she's been told how much better Slytherin's blood makes her, how inferior muggles are. Merope would stilt her wrists and drain her pure blood out if it would give her another life.

He is fascinated by the creatures who dwell within the dirty, little cottage. He knows they are humans - people - but when he watches them, he feels the same way he feels listening to his friend Edward describe his African safari. There's an old man, a young man his own age, and a young woman. Tom thinks they look an awful lot like the family of monkeys he saw once in a zoo.

Merope doesn't know anyone else so she can't be sure, but she thinks anywhere would be better than the Gaunt household. She doesn't know for certain, but she thinks there must be better fathers out there. There must be fathers who don't shout at their daughters and tell them they're stupid; fathers who don't slap one moment and pet the next.

When he gallops by, the old man shouts at him. He doesn't sound friendly and Tom knows he's probably being insulted. The words themselves have no meaning. A "muggle" must be a filthy slang word in their dialect.

He's her brother, so Merope thinks Morfin should be on her side. He tells her he loves her when he wants her to kiss him late at night, but he doesn't listen when she begs him not to murder the garden snakes -her only friends - during the day.

The younger man is silent, but there's no less hatred in his gaze. It's almost personal, the way he stares accusingly at Tom. Tom thinks he's jealous of his fine clothes and fast horse.

Her father tells her that they own the world, but Tom looks like the world belongs to him. Tom looks at them the way they look at the earthworms. Tom is handsome and clean, and he sounds smart. Merope longs to be everything she sees in Tom.

Tom recognizes the expression he sees on the face of the girl. It is the same look of adoration he sees on the faces of the other girls in the village. He's handsome and wealthy, and he enjoys the attention his status gives him, but that girl makes him feel soiled. How dare she look at him like that, think of him that way? The thought of being with her makes him nauseous, but he's flattered nonetheless.

When the aurors drag her father and Morfin away, Merope is terrified. She cries for a full day, then she works harder than ever, arranging things the way she wants them. She studies the books of spells her father said she was too stupid to learn. When she sees the recipe for the love potion, she knows what she has to do.

It's been weeks since he's seen the two men. He supposes they died or were finally carted off to jail. Tom continues to ride pass the Gaunt home out of habit - and because he gets a perverse thrill of out watching the girl's reaction to him. He knows it's cruel, but he wants to encourage her hopes and fantasies, smug in the knowledge that she's trash not even worthy of shining his shoes.

It's difficult getting all the ingredients. Most of the herbs grow in her garden, but there are some things Merope has to steal from Knockturn Alley. She brews a cauldron full of the stuff and carefully stores it away in spell-secured bottles. She loves animals and it makes her sad to hurt Tom's horse, but it's necessary.

His horse goes lame right in front of the hut. Tom kneels in the dirt to examine the animal's leg. He swears when he feels the girl's presence behind him. He feels guilty about being rude to her, so he forces a smile onto his face and greets her politely. She doesn't meet his eyes as she returns his greeting and offers him a refreshment. Normally Tom would never ingest something from such a source, but the day's hot and he could use a drink.

There's a moment of panic as Merope wonders what she'll do if the potion doesn't work. What if she misread the recipe? What if she mixed up the herbs? It'll take weeks before she can get the ingredients to brew another batch. But her worries are pointless. The potion is perfect.

The cup is cracked, but clean, and the drink tastes delicious. The girl stares at him nervously as he sips it. Tom assures her that it's the best thing he's tasted in ages. The area surrounding the hut looks orderly now, more like a proper garden. Tom compliments the girl on her work. She doesn't reply, and Tom takes another sip to hide his irritation. It really is a delicious beverage. He drains the cup in one gulp.

Merope wishes she'd had the courage to do this years ago. Tom tells her she's beautiful. He touches her gently when she wants to be touched and leaves her alone - albeit with longing looks - when she doesn't. He compliments her food and her housekeeping. He holds her hand when he accompanies her on her walks into the woods. Merope doesn't recall ever feeling this way before in her life. This just may be the first time she's ever been happy.

Tom can't remember a time when he wasn't madly in love with Merope. He loves her name - it's so unusual. He whispers it to himself all the time, savoring the feel of the syllables on his tongue. He loves her hair, which is much neater and cleaner now that he lovingly combs it every night. He thinks it's cute the way her eyes point in different directions - it makes him feel like she's always watching him, no matter what else she may be doing.

She fools herself into thinking that everything will be all right. If she has to use cheering charms on them, her father and brother will accept Tom when they return home. She tells herself that Tom's family will welcome her; that she'll finally have a place on the hill.

When he takes Merope home, Tom's mother faints and his father orders the servants to throw them out. Tom is upset, but only because his parents make Merope cry. He vows never to speak to them again. When his father stops by Merope's house, Tom swears he's happy where he is. He declares he'll never leave Merope and his parents had better get used to the idea. He father says he'll be waiting when he crawls home. Tom doesn't listen to him; he's preoccupied petting one of the numerous snakes that dwell in the Gaunt garden.

Merope knows contraceptive charms; after all, she's been using them for six years. She stops casting the charms because she wants to have a child with Tom, wants a real family. She just knows that their son or daughter will be as attractive and charming as Tom.

Merope tells him she's having their baby, and Tom can't remember ever feeling happier than he does that day. Long before there's any bump there, he kisses Merope's belly and talks to it. "Good night, little Tom," he says every night. Merope never tires of hearing it, so Tom tells her how much he loves her first thing every morning and last thing every night.

They've been happy for half a year now, and they're having a baby. Tom seems as happy as she is. Merope is certain that he loves her for real. She doesn't think she needs the help of the love potion anymore.

Then he awakes up one morning and he just doesn't love her anymore. He can't believe that he ever did. He looks at her crying and clutching her pregnant abdomen that's starting to show - and he wants to vomit. She's hideous. She won't stop telling him she loves him and begging him to think of their baby.

She knows she's made a mistake when she sees the look on his face. He doesn't love her. He hates her. Merope desperately pleads with Tom to stay. If he just sits down and calms down, she can make him a drink laced with the remainder of the love potion.

"Bitch," he says. Then he thinks again and says, "Witch." He doesn't tell her goodbye; he merely flees as fast as he can, grateful to be free of her spell. The rational portion of his mind thinks he was drugged; the superstitious part of him knows he was ensnared in a spell. His parents are relieved to have him home. Tom stays in bed for a week, getting up only to watch as the servants chase Merope away from the gate.

The baby's perfect. Her father told her that half-bloods were ugly, that they had horns and red eyes. But her son's beautiful. She knows Tom would love him - and maybe her, too - if he only saw him. She knows she's dying, but she doesn't beg for her life in her prayers. Instead, she urges the gods to send Tom to retrieve his son. She wants her baby to be loved like she never was.

Tom no longer rides by the Gaunt place. He pretends that period didn't exist; he pretends not to remember the months he lived with Merope. Despite himself, Tom listens when the servants gossip. They say Merope died giving birth to a boy. They say the child's at an orphanage. Tom thinks it's a pity the whelp didn't die, too.