harry potter: THE DARK BENEATH YOUR BED
Title: the dark beneath your bed
Chars/Pairs: Tom Riddle Sr(/Merope)
Rating: PG13
Word Count: 607
Summary: Tom Riddle Sr. wakes up.
Author's Note: for comment_fic prompt "Tom Riddle Sr./Merope, he never believed in magic"
The potion wears off like a bad dream. He feels the world slowly coming into focus around him, things seem sharper than yesterday, words clearer, smells stronger. His body moves easily and Tom flexes his fingers slowly, adjusting to this awakened state. He has no idea where he is at first. He isn't even sure if his eyes are open.
He blinks a few times, squints into the dimness that surrounds him and some things come back to him. It still feels like a dream. He must be in his parents' home, in his own bed with the bright red alarm clock letters on the table. Yet when he looks, he sees only a glass of water and some dusty papers. Yes, he thinks. This is where I live. And it takes another few moments before he remembers who he lives with.
Merope.
Tom sits up in bed. His chest is bare and he can almost feel the room crushing down on him. His brow is still furrowed in confusion and thought. Everything here is wrong. Somehow, he remembers looking at her fondly, cradling her pale face and the desperate smile that slid across her face. He remembers this and his stomach turns.
Tom carefully leaves the bedroom, door creaking loudly, and descends into the living room. She is there, sitting cross-legged on the sofa, her dark and stringy hair covering most of her face. She's just staring at the wall, quiet and still. Tom wonders if she's asleep but then her head turns to look at him. She smiles, that desperate smile he remembers, as if no one had ever loved her except for him. Tom feels the bile rise up in his throat. She is cross-eyed and her left eye does not focus on him on the stares.
Now he feels wide awake. Now he is scared. Now Tom has no idea what is going on, how he got in this house with this woman, how many months (years? he wonders, could it have been years?) he has spent with her. Merope runs a hand over her stomach. "He's kicking," she says. He notices a piece of wood in her other hand, gripped so tight her knuckles are pure white.
"What are you?" he asks, his voice strange and gravelly in his throat.
Merope looks back down at her pregnant belly. "I was thinking of naming him after you," she says, as if Tom hadn't even spoken. "Would you like that?"
Tom shudders and stays silent. He stands there long enough to gain enough courage to cross the room towards the door. Merope watches and he can see the delusion and the fear in her glassy eyes when he crosses her path.
"What are you?" he asks again and this time she looks up and almost laughs.
"You know," she says and holds up the length of wood still gripped in her fingers. "A witch. I think our baby will be one, too. The most powerful wizard..." she trails off and looks back down at her hand spread across her belly button.
Tom steps back and then out the door into the harsh winter air. He walks, still half-naked, back to his parents' home.
All he ever says is that the Merope girl was not what he expected. He moves away and marries. He has a daughter with brown hair and brown hairs and chubby red cheeks. He names her Charlotte. When he goes to sleep with his arms wrapped around his wife, he dreams of magic, intricate magic that is so real he almost believes. Then he wakes -- it was just a dream.
Chars/Pairs: Tom Riddle Sr(/Merope)
Rating: PG13
Word Count: 607
Summary: Tom Riddle Sr. wakes up.
Author's Note: for comment_fic prompt "Tom Riddle Sr./Merope, he never believed in magic"
The potion wears off like a bad dream. He feels the world slowly coming into focus around him, things seem sharper than yesterday, words clearer, smells stronger. His body moves easily and Tom flexes his fingers slowly, adjusting to this awakened state. He has no idea where he is at first. He isn't even sure if his eyes are open.
He blinks a few times, squints into the dimness that surrounds him and some things come back to him. It still feels like a dream. He must be in his parents' home, in his own bed with the bright red alarm clock letters on the table. Yet when he looks, he sees only a glass of water and some dusty papers. Yes, he thinks. This is where I live. And it takes another few moments before he remembers who he lives with.
Merope.
Tom sits up in bed. His chest is bare and he can almost feel the room crushing down on him. His brow is still furrowed in confusion and thought. Everything here is wrong. Somehow, he remembers looking at her fondly, cradling her pale face and the desperate smile that slid across her face. He remembers this and his stomach turns.
Tom carefully leaves the bedroom, door creaking loudly, and descends into the living room. She is there, sitting cross-legged on the sofa, her dark and stringy hair covering most of her face. She's just staring at the wall, quiet and still. Tom wonders if she's asleep but then her head turns to look at him. She smiles, that desperate smile he remembers, as if no one had ever loved her except for him. Tom feels the bile rise up in his throat. She is cross-eyed and her left eye does not focus on him on the stares.
Now he feels wide awake. Now he is scared. Now Tom has no idea what is going on, how he got in this house with this woman, how many months (years? he wonders, could it have been years?) he has spent with her. Merope runs a hand over her stomach. "He's kicking," she says. He notices a piece of wood in her other hand, gripped so tight her knuckles are pure white.
"What are you?" he asks, his voice strange and gravelly in his throat.
Merope looks back down at her pregnant belly. "I was thinking of naming him after you," she says, as if Tom hadn't even spoken. "Would you like that?"
Tom shudders and stays silent. He stands there long enough to gain enough courage to cross the room towards the door. Merope watches and he can see the delusion and the fear in her glassy eyes when he crosses her path.
"What are you?" he asks again and this time she looks up and almost laughs.
"You know," she says and holds up the length of wood still gripped in her fingers. "A witch. I think our baby will be one, too. The most powerful wizard..." she trails off and looks back down at her hand spread across her belly button.
Tom steps back and then out the door into the harsh winter air. He walks, still half-naked, back to his parents' home.
All he ever says is that the Merope girl was not what he expected. He moves away and marries. He has a daughter with brown hair and brown hairs and chubby red cheeks. He names her Charlotte. When he goes to sleep with his arms wrapped around his wife, he dreams of magic, intricate magic that is so real he almost believes. Then he wakes -- it was just a dream.