Written for:
Chocolate Frog Cards Challenge: Cliodna - Write about a mother figure.
Writing Bingo: Amortentia
Gringotts Prompt Bank: Riddle Era (Bonus), Morfin Gaunt (Bonus), Little Hangleton, Huckleberry (bonus), Tom Riddle
Words: 925

Love Never Promised

Tom Riddle was very happy with his life, thank you very much. He was affluent and revered, with comforts and love all around him. But Little Hangleton wasn't the nicest of places. His family were the richest around, owning most of the houses and shops the rest of the village relied on, which meant they were shunned. As the Riddles moved in different circles, this didn't mean much to the family. They just didn't get out in the local area much.

The family that hated them the most was the Gaunts. Marvolo Gaunt did all he could to make the Riddles miserable whenever they bumped into each other, and he was passing that hatred onto his vile children. Tom avoided them whenever he could.

He stepped out into the grounds of his family home one Sunday morning, as he always did on Sundays, to ride his favourite stallion. Only this Sunday he was met by a basket full of huckleberries. That was unusual in itself, but what was more unusual was the card, with his name, 'Tom', written crudely on it in black ink. Who on earth would be leaving him presents?

He looked around for a face somewhere, but there was no one to be seen. The berries might have been poisonous anyway - a lot of berries were - so he left them there.

-o0o-

It was a week later, again on a Sunday, when he came down very suddenly with painful hives. He didn't know hives could come on that quickly, but it was three weeks later before he was able to ride again. He was beginning to think Sundays were very unlucky for him. Bedridden as he was, he got very bored, and when he was finally able to get up and about again, he couldn't wait to get outdoors. It almost didn't surprise him to find another parcel on his back doorstep. It was strawberries, this time, with a note that he supposed was supposed to say "Get well soon", rather than the mismatch of letters he saw. It would be rude of him to refuse two presents, he thought, as he bent down to pick a strawberry up. It helped that he really, really liked strawberries.

He took a bite, and thought he'd never tasted strawberries quite so delicious before. Succulent and sweet with a hint of bitterness - just as strawberries were supposed to taste.

He took another one, and as he did so, saw movement in the privet hedge. He looked up as a young woman stepped out. It was Merope Gaunt, a thin, stringy woman with deep set eyes and long, straw-like brown hair. But all of a sudden, she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. How had it escaped his attention before, how the light danced in her hazel eyes? How had he never seen the grace in her walk?

"Hello, Tom," she said by way of introduction, and it sounded like a song.

"Hello," he stammered, feeling nervous and uncouth beside her perfection.

"Tom, I need to tell you something," she said, and he nodded, listening intently. "I've been watching you for sometime. I… I'm in love with you."

Tom couldn't believe it. What luck! "I've never heard words so beautiful. I… I think I love you too!" He couldn't help but grin as he wrapped his arms around her frame. It had all happened so suddenly, but it felt right.

-o0o-

When her brother and father, Morfin and Marvolo Gaunt, were arrested, Tom and Merope took their chance. They were married within two weeks, and it wasn't long before she brought him the wonderful news of their expected child. While his parents condemned the union, Tom couldn't remember being happier. Every morning, she would greet him with a bowl of strawberries, and every evening she would make fresh sweetened chamomile tea. She was the perfect wife.

He learned of her magic, and it only made her all the more spectacular to him. To his parents, it made her something to be feared, something wicked. They insisted they would pray for him.

It was a Saturday evening in their new home, and they were sat by the fire. Tom yawned, tire and content.

"I think I'm going to head upstairs, my dear," Tom announced, leaning over to kiss his wife.

"Shall I make your tea, dear?" she asked with a smile.

"No, no it's quite alright. Put your feet up, my love." For a moment, Merope looked completely stricken, but soon her face settled into a smile.

"Okay. Just… just remember that I love you," she told him.

Tom laughed; he couldn't help it. "How could I forget?" he asked, before walking away.

In the morning, he woke up to the full realisation of what had happened to him. He left while she was still sleeping. He didn't know what she'd given him, but he knew she was a witch in more ways than one.

-o0o-

Six months later, Merope showed up at a hospital in rags, gaunter than her name, heartbroken. She was telling the nurse how she only kept herself alive for her child. She hoped it was a boy. She mused how the latin for 'held love', amortentia, had the latin word for 'death' in it. She claimed it felt fitting.

They discovered her ailments, bronchitis and malnutrition, while she was in labour, and they knew she could not look after her child. She named him, nursed him, and held him before they took him away. Three days later, no one came to see her die.