Written for Round Two of Fanfiction Idol inspired by song lyrics. I ended up writing a fic based on Merope. Poor thing.

It was cold. A part of Merope knew that logically but she hardly felt it.

She hardly felt anything anymore.

Kneeling in one the few parts of the alleyway that were not covered in slush, she kept her head down.

No one wanted to see her face. No one ever did.

She only kept her plain, dull face and cross eyed eyes focused on the concrete.

She was worthless. She was nothing. She was only a worthless rat who ruined everything for everyone.

She wished it was not true, but she knew it was.

Tears slid down her face as wrapped her arms tightly around herself and her pregnant stomach.

Why was she even here? She ruined everything.

She always did.

With a shuddering breath she closed her eyes and tried not to remember.

It did not work.

"Worthless!" The voice of her father hollered as he raised his leather belt high above his head. With a feral flick of his wrist it came down hard over her bare and blood encrusted back. She hollered loudly and her sobbing increased. "Filthy Squib! Only muggle punishments are worthy for filth like you."

On her knees, Merope sobbed louder as the belt came down over her back once again. She did not protest and she did not try to escape or to protect herself. From a young age, she had learned how pointless such actions were. If she protested, the belt would come down harder. If she tried to escape, she would be pulled back and the belting would continue. The last idea was equally ludicrous.

She was weak. She could not do anything least of all try to protect herself.

She would just have to take it.

"Everything you touch turns to rot!" Marvolo bellowed as he continued his violent assault. "How dare you break that dish? How dare you burn our meal? How dare you kill your mother? You know it is your entire fault, don't you?"

She knew. She could not do anything. Of course, she killed her mother. It was after her birth that she died. She wished it wasn't, but she knew it was her fault.

It was always her fault

The only answer she made was a whimper.

It was not enough.

She felt a hand grab her arm and, before she knew it, she was on her back and facing her father. A fist slammed into her nose, no doubt breaking the bone. She gasped back the pain as spit flung at her face from the frothing at her father's mouth.

"Answer me!"

"Yes!" she finally said softly but desperately. She kept her eyes shut not wanting to see anything. "It is my fault."

She flinched and waited for another blow.

None came.

Instead she felt the hand on her arm disappear and heard her father take a few steps back.

"Morfin," he called his voice noticeably less hostile now it was not directed at her, "you can finish with her. She is pointless."

She whimpered loudly and flinched as she wrapped her arms around herself as her brother approached.

She was just worthless.

There was only a short time in her life when she did not feel worthless.

It was only for a year. She could forget her ugly face when she was dressed in such pretty dresses and she could forget she was worthless when Tom's arms were around her.

She could even forget it was all a rouse.

Until it was too obvious to ignore.

For months she had carefully added the love potion into Tom's tea. It was so easy to slip it into the milk since she never added any herself.

With the signs of her pregnancy and his hold that seemed to strong and tender to only be produced by the potion, she thought it would be fine. She thought if she did not give it to him one day, it would not change anything.

By now he must have loved her.

She was silly. She forgot that she was worthless. She forgot no one would ever care about her.

There was no reason he would stay.

"How could you?" he demanded his voice more composed than her father, but it struck harder than any of his blow. "What have you done?"

"Tom," she mumbled her voice shaky and quite as she stared down at her feet.

"No!"he screamed his beautiful face contorted into a feral look before he managed to compose himself. "You did it. I know you did. I feel like a cloud has been cleared. I know what you have done."

His voice was soft and his arms remained at his sides, but she sobbed loudly and her legs collapsed as she fell down on her knees.

"Please, Tom. Please. I'm sorry but-"

"How can you ever apologise?" he demanded his voice shacking slightly in ager but he was otherwise composed. "You ruined my life! What will I ever say to Cecilia? My parents? My friends? You enchanted me you forced me-" He trailed off his hands hacking.

Merope flinched. She closed her eyes and waited for the blow.

None came.

Tom was not her father.

"Go," he hissed furiously like one of Morfin's serpents.

She wished she could not understand.

"No," she moaned her voice louder than usual. She launched forward for his ankles, but they were pulled out of reach. "I'm carrying your child, our child. Please Tom I-"

Lank and mismatched eyes looked at him desperately. He turned away. "I want you out of here by the end of the day. Be gone by then."

She hollered louder and was in more pain than anything produced by her father's blows or her brother's hands. The volume of her voice increased as Tom turned away.

Kneeling in the alleyway she continued to holler. It only increased as she felt kicks and pains from her stomach. Moaning in pain she drew herself to her feet.

She was worthless. She knew that, but a part of her was sparked into life.

She was always wrong. There was no reason she should live.

However, her baby should.

Tom's baby could never be worthless.