Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Merope Gaunt couldn’t breathe. There was only darkness. It must've been magic, and she scarcely wondered hysterically if Morfin was up to his own tricks again.

What was it going to be this time? Had her dear father decided to test something new to ‘draw her power out’? Or was Morfin with some ‘clever’ rendition of the Imperius curse to humiliate herself?

Merope felt the hands snake up her bare legs and her blood froze. The ever present dread had now evolved into pure terror; it now enveloped her, stretching her heart taut.

“Morfin, I’m sorry! My magic is weak. I won’t ever look at that blasted muggle again—” She was pleading, sobbing.

Her near squibness had been both a curse and a blessing. She was ridiculed by her brother and father at every turn, but she hadn’t been ready yet either. Children with parents with little magical power were likely to be weak as well.

She tried crawling away, but suddenly his weight crushed her. Rough hands pinned her arms in a bruising grip. Merope had no magical power of her own and couldn’t resist even this muggle-like assault.

Merope was scared and angry all at once. In her mind, (she was too cowardly to say it out loud) she cursed her father and brother for treating her in such a way, for making her their dog, their servant. She cursed the village people for treating the Gaunt family like pariahs in all their muggle ignorance. And she cursed Tom Riddle. The thought of him made Merope feel bitter in her heart.

He was nauseatingly close, she could hear his heavy breathing and feel puffs of hot, wet, stinky air on her face.

Morfin heard it before she did. His body tensed. He paused in his actions and got up before there were three sharp knocks at the door. The Gaunt shack was small enough that the noise reverberated throughout the house.

In shock, he scrambled up, nearly crushing Merope's ribs with the movement.
Merope took the opportunity to slide out from under him and skitter to the door. She cracked it open to see an important-looking man.

"Hello, can I help you?" Merope asked, her voice wavering.

"Is Morfin Gaunt present?" He looked over her, seemingly trying to peer into the shack, his eyes darting to and fro inside their house.

Marvolo lumbered over from behind her and pushed her aside. Merope took the opportunity to run and hide in a corner of the shack, in the room furthest from all of them.

More than ever, she wished she was invisible. She could hear Morfin getting agitated and aggressive, and soon he joined them. There was noise and conflict, and Merope knew that the man had been shooed away. The creeping sense of dread seemed to envelop her again.

As soon as the man left, her father confronted Morfin. Her fears came true. Father came charging into the room, Morfin right behind him.

"She likes looking at that Muggle. Always in the garden when he passes, peering through the hedge at him, isn’t she? And last night—"

Merope swung her head towards her brother, glaring at him if she could, indignant. The rat.

"Is it true? My daughter — a pure-blooded descendant of Salazar Slytherin — hankering after a filthy, dirt-veined Muggle?"

"Of course not, Father," Merope said placatingly. She was definitely no beauty, but she widened her eyes to project innocence. "I would never sink so low." Her sentences were short and clipped. She wanted to make her outrage known. “Almost worse than mating with beasts, I think, with those Muggles faking being all proper and civilized.”

She thought of Tom Riddle, how he grew up in the Riddle Manor, being loved and spoiled by Mary and Thomas Riddle. She thought of how he was good-looking and beloved while she was drab. Her heart burned with envy.

“But your brother—” Marvolo began.

“Those with dirty minds think dirtily,” Merope bit back angrily.

And she promptly regretted it. Marvolo's face grew red in anger at being interrupted, and his favored child having been insulted by his unfavored.

Before she would run, she was being strangled with magic. Her body felt as though pure despair and paralyzing fear had been pumped into her veins. She grasped at her neck for something that wasn’t there, nails digging into flesh desperately.

Merope felt spots in her vision. She was going to die. She was going to die in the godforsaken place with her bloody brother and father dancing over her corpse, glad to be rid of the squib. She was going t—

Then there was a large crack. It was like lightning to Merope’s senses, jolting her into reprieve. There was commotion and within 10 minutes of hustle and bustle, Morfin and her father had been taken away by the Ministry of Magic, and Merope was left all alone in the Gaunt Shack.

For the first time in her life, Merope was happy, smiling, large and true.

Chapter Text

Merope couldn’t stay happy for long though; a rush of anxiety tore through her at the thought of Morfin and Father’s inevitable return. They’d be back, and she’d be worse off than before; Though Father lost his temper and beat her up a bit, he was clear on what Merope’s duty was. The moment that their older cousins had died out, Merope knew that restoring the Gaunts, a line with a thousand-year history that was the purest of all the purebloods, landed on her thin shoulders. She would have to…be with Morfin. 

But she was fearful. Merope knew she was wrong in thinking this, but she was also very selfish. Before, when denying her brother, she knew she’d sinned, but if she ran away…then she’d be damning her entire family—her ancestors and their legacy. 

Even considering running away was treacherous and Merope could only strengthen her resolve by placating herself: She’d strengthen her magic, then return once she’s proven herself, and then...

Merope couldn’t afford to waste time. She now wanted to run away, but the question was how? 

She needed to travel far from here, but as uneducated as Merope was, she wasn't sure where to go or how to get there. She also needed money. None of which she could feasibly get without help, not as a girl. 

Merope Gaunt was an isolated girl with no connections. And the residents of Little Hangleton wouldn't help her willingly—not a Gaunt. Merope was well aware of the reputation her family had in the little village; she would be a social pariah. Merope felt a little resentment in her heart. As downtrodden as she was, she was still a pure-blood, still magical. Mere Muggles disdaining her of all people…

The Muggles of Little Hangleton wouldn't help her willingly which meant…resorting to magic. She couldn’t think of another method. Not when it wasn’t even possible for her to travel alone as a girl. Merope noted bitterly. 

Money. Information. There was only one family in all of Little Hangleton that could supply her with those means: the Riddles. In the village, they were the richest and a library had to be stuffed in their big old manor. 

And the Riddle that came by the most often on his prissy little horse was Tom Riddle. Merope knew from the grapevine and from personal experience of his nature. Arrogant and snobby. She saw how he mocked the Gaunt Shack and her. Merope bet that the man had grown up in such privilege that Morfin hexing his face was the worst thing that’s ever happened to him. 

She has decided her target. Next was how to control Riddle.  

The Imperius Curse was what first came to mind. Then a love potion. But as of now, Merope didn’t have the ability to cast such a Dark spell. Of course she was willing to practice, learn, and try to master it (essentially required as a Gaunt) in the future, but she didn’t have the time to linger in the village. And if Morfin had gotten into so much trouble growing boils on a Muggle’s face…Merope didn’t want to be caught for casting an Unforgivable. Love potions, in comparison, were fairly innocuous and the general wizarding world didn't take them too seriously. If brewed right, a weak potion would be enough to swindle a Muggle into helping Merope run away.

Merope began gathering the ingredients—rosebuds, rose thorns, and peppermint—that she was able to forage around the village. As for the more expensive ingredients like pearl dust and moonstone, she faced a major humiliation. With the small number of coins, she was able to gather from the Gaunt Shack, she couldn't afford them. Which meant she’d have to deal without. Then there was the even trickier part…the actual magical ingredient in a potion which she didn’t have either. Ashwinder eggs were snake eggs of flame essentially. Merope resolved to use her own flame magic conjured from her wand to fuel the potion as well as increase the brewing time to make up for the lack of material…

After a large amount of adjustments Merope called on two snakes with her parseltongue. Nick and Scaly were snakes that Merope had known since she was a child, and they had never been gone for long. She resolved to test her potion on them. At first, they were hissing at one another when summoned and seeing the other. But then Merope fed some of the potion to Scaly and watched the transformation. Scaly rubbed herself around Nick in a snake hug, hissing contentment. Merope had to take that as a success.

Merope also had to ensure that Riddle would actually take the potion. She knew it wouldn't be likely that he would take anything from her, being the daughter of the crazy Gaunt family and a stranger. She knew she was too ugly and repulsive for Riddle to even draw near, so she did what she could to mitigate that. She put Notice-Me-Not charms on the Shack, the yard, the growing nettles, and the trees. She glamoured herself so both of her eyes looked straight ahead and finally, she bought a special cup, splurging a little money she had on a Muggle marketplace for a fancy cup to hold the potion.

After all that preparation, it was an utter failure. Riddle had taken one look at her offer on a hot summer day and snubbed it, turning his nose up and riding away on his horse. The little action had infuriated Merope to no end; her, a pureblood, pushed to such lengths to please a Muggle?

Merope devised a new plan. The next time she saw Riddle riding his horse by the Gaunt shack, she caused the horse to trip with a stinking hex, throwing Riddle off. It was then, and only then, that Riddle lay there in all his pathetic glory, truly suffering. Merope approached him, her steps soft and slow.

"Oh no, Mr. Riddle! Let me help you, you poor man," she feigned concern.

She poked at him, him groaning in pain all the while. Seeing that he would just be badly bruised, she pushed onto him the love potion. 

“Drink this dear sir! My family’s home recipe, a healing herb tea.”

She fed it to him and then cast a quick numbing spell. Riddle widened his eyes at the sudden lack of pain. He sat up and flexed his fingers and hands.

And then, for the first time, he actually seemed to look at her. His eyebrows twisted up, seeing her plain face. Merope could witness this transformation of wonderment into disgust in real time.

Merope took the opportunity to hex him again.

"Ouch!"

"Here, drink more poti—herbal tea." Why wasn’t the potion working?

Merope based the potion on Amortentia, so it should have immediate results. She had feared the possibility of stretching the potion ingredients too thin. Merope rushed through the substitutes she made: Ashwinder eggs were the dearly missed magical ingredient in the spell, but they were for fuel and to simulate the passion component of love. But she had provided the fuel with her magic and didn’t need any passion—just general infatuation, which the extra rose petals should have more than made up for. Merope added mica (which was found around the Gaunt Shack) as a neutral substitute to give the potion more body and some stabilization, but perhaps the nettles corrupted the ingredient so it's not pur-

“Could you show me more of your tea?” His eyes were dark and glittering. Now, this was different. He interlaced the tips of his gloved fingers into Merope’s bony ones. And for the first time, she was too elated to care about touching a muggle. 

Would it be too forward to directly ask for gold?  

Chapter Text

It was after a productive conversation (with lots and lots of subtle testing on Merope’s part) with Riddle, that he looked at her with soft eyes and asked if he could return tomorrow. Merope agreed, of course, ecstatic that he made redosing him so easy. 

As soon as he'd left, Merope was tempted to give a whoop of joy. She'd done it. She’d be free! She wasn't a squib. She’d proven her magical capabilities and was a pure-blooded witch! 

The overall weakness of the love potion couldn't be helped, not when she practically swapped out half the ingredients. Merope theorized, judging from the qualities of other potions using moonstone and pearl dust, that these ingredients acted as stabilizers for emotions as well as ensuring that the recipient's original inclinations were erased, giving more sway and effectiveness to the 'love' component of the potion. This erasure gave Amortentia, the strongest love potion, the power to transform the recipient into the caricature of a love-sick fool at every beck and call of their 'beloved'. It essentially had the same effect as an Imperius. 

Merope couldn’t help but sigh a bit in longing. Her potion merely added feelings of love and infatuation, which meant Tom Riddle still sneered at the destitute Gaunt Shack. He still flinched when she introduced her pet snakes. And he was wily enough to disguise any feelings and approach her with hidden intention. If she had Amortentia… she would have been able to ask the Muggle to hand over his entire family fortune, and he would have done it. But now… 

Her test subjects, Nick and Scaly, corroborated her theory. Merope tried petting Nick but realized that Scaly had bumped in before him. Scaly had always loved being pet and pushed around the other snakes to be first, but Merope hadn't expected that this behavior would carry over even when she was "in love" with Nick.

Unfortunately, it seemed Merope would just have to hold out until she could travel to London to Diagon Alley and get some better ingredients.

Merope spent the day in a rush experimenting and making knockoff potions that she remembered. In Father’s lessons, while Merope had never been able to execute the spells well besides some cleaning and cooking ones, she’d committed some theory to memory. She remembered the steps of how to combine ingredients together to form a potion as well as the incantations for some spells.

By the time Riddle had knocked on her door, she had a cheap version of a Calming Drought, an antidote to common poisons (of only the muggle variety), and a forgetfulness potion. She also had a plan to set into motion.

She'd stashed and hidden everything by the time she heard the knock on the door. She opened it to see Riddle's familiar face. What was still unfamiliar to her was the smile he had upon seeing her. Well, glad to see the potion is still working.

"Ms. Gaunt, you look lovely today."   Merope didn’t need to look down at her drab, stained clothing to recognize the lie.

"Thank you."

He eyed the snake corpse nailed to the door uneasily.

"Is there something the matter, Mr. Riddle?"

"Is there any way the serpent could be… removed?"

Merope nearly rolled her eyes at this but moved to remove the nail anyway. She pulled on it, but it wouldn't budge. Note to self: make a strengthening potion later.  

"Here, let me try. It's unbecoming of me to stand by and watch a woman do such hard labor."

Merope was surprised, but then, noticing his soft, uncalloused hands, decided to spare him the humiliation.

"It's fine, Mr. Riddle. I'll have my brother undo his work later. We can move to the outskirts of the property." She hoped he didn’t question where Father and Morfin had gone. 

Riddle looked relieved at this, and Merope was surprised that he had even braved the overgrown nettles and trees to make it to her doorstep.

"How are your injuries, Mr. Riddle?"

"Better, still sore," he said gruffly.

"Oh dear, it was a hard fall, wasn't it?" Merope asked, just as she had enchanted it. She offered her "tea" again.

Riddle took the tea, drank it, and sighed in relief as the pain ebbed away.

"A true talent." Merope noticed that Riddle didn’t do Thank Yous. She wondered if it was because he didn’t want to acknowledge being in her debt or perhaps it was expected that everyone should help him.

"Thank you. I've just been into tea-making these days amongst my usual…cooking and cleaning. I found that herbal teas can alleviate so many pains and sores. And bless my father's heart, he's been getting old, with creaks in the knees and his bones growing weary, so I feed him my peppermint tea to help with the pain."

"Your tea can help with arthritis?" he asked, intrigued. Merope was relieved to find that Riddle had at least some filial responsibility toward his own father. Many in the village knew of Thomas Riddle’s long-suffering pain. 

"Yep. It warms my dad up and makes him feel whole." Merope knew that if she directly asked for money, it would conflict with Riddle's sense of propriety. It would not be well looked upon by anyone, especially his parents, if they saw him freely giving money to the village's resident mad family's daughter. Paying for arthritis-alleviating tea for his long-suffering father, however, would be much more easily accepted, and Merope was very willing to bank on Riddle’s affection for her to hike up the price of some leaf water.

“How would you like to come and work in the Manor?”

The proposition was so out of left field that Merope's gaze flinched up at him, indignant. He wanted her to be a servant, a maid? Merope's first gut reaction was to vehemently refuse—her, a pure-blood, serving a bunch of Muggles? The mere idea was ridiculous! But then she realized her position. This money, access to the library—it was all that she'd been gunning for the entire time.

She desperately wanted to refuse but couldn’t. She'd be a laughingstock in the wizarding world, but it was also her ticket out of this town and away from Marvolo and Morfin's reach. She knew that Morfin had been taught just as she had and would chase her to the ends of the Earth to drag her back to the misery of her previous life. She needed to get strong and fast. So, Merope swallowed her pride.

“Yes.”

Riddle’s eyes seemed to glow alight.