Fic Post- Merope Hid Her Face For Shame: In That Dream of Death
Title: Merope Hid Her Face For Shame: In That Dream of Death
Author/Artist: Atalanta Pendragonne (atalantapendrag)
Rating: PG-13
Pairing(s)/character(s): Merope Gaunt, various OCs
Summary: Follows This Heartless Place
Warnings: Violent images.
Chapter Five-In That Dream Of Death
No, to sleep, to dream, aye merry, there it goes,
For in that dream of death, when we awake,
And borne before an everlasting Judge,
From whence no passenger ever returned,
The undiscovered country, at those sight
The happy smile, and the accursed damned.
-Hamlet (First aka "Bad" Quarto)
In 1943, Merope dreams.
She had never seen the room before, but the taste in furnishings was familiar. There were three people sitting in matched uncomfortable-looking chairs, none of them young, none of them familiar, although it seemed she should... someone's uncle? It wouldn't hold still in her mind. She could tell they were speaking, but their voices were muffled, garbled as if they were under water, or she were.
When the door swung open all three looked up in shock, expressions communicating as clearly as their unintelligible words could.
The man who entered, she did recognize. Or did she? Hadn't Tom's chin been a bit weaker, his teeth a little straighter? But when he spoke, she could hear him, and his voice was Tom's.
"Did you think you could forget me forever?"
Then he raised his wand, and Merope knew who he was. Something inside her twisted painfully.
"I don't think I'm interested in what you have to say." He was trying to sound flippant, and very nearly succeeded. He did make the wave of his wand that hexed all three of them still and silent look casual, almost careless. He pulled a yellowed sheet of paper from his pocket, unfolding it. "You've made yourself quite clear already. Did you think they didn't keep files, that I'd never see this?" His voice was cold as he read, but the slightest bit shaky. " 'Whatever that girl said, the brat's not mine. Take your begging elsewhere, you'll get nothing from me.' " Without a word, he burned the paper to ash. "Succinct, but thorough." He raised his wand, and her vision went green.
Merope whimpers in her sleep, but no-one notices.
In 1947, a new nurse comes to work at the hospital. She hears that 'Melanie-No-Last-Name-Given' has been a patient for at least ten years, catatonic the whole time, and seemed not to have aged a day.
The nurse is a half-blood, and can guess at what might be happening. It's happened before. Unwilling to interfere, she simply casts a glamour on Merope, making her easy to forget, easy to ignore.
In 1981, Merope dreams.
The moon was full. The moon was full and shimmering green, and somewhere a woman was screaming.
A shape formed on the moon, an unfamiliar sigil formed of skull and serpent.
A louder, wilder scream, and the moon shattered, splitting into quarters, crumbling into shards, tumbling from the sky.
Merope opens her eyes.
TBC in "I Hope Your Soul's at Rest"
Author/Artist: Atalanta Pendragonne (atalantapendrag)
Rating: PG-13
Pairing(s)/character(s): Merope Gaunt, various OCs
Summary: Follows This Heartless Place
Warnings: Violent images.
Chapter Five-In That Dream Of Death
No, to sleep, to dream, aye merry, there it goes,
For in that dream of death, when we awake,
And borne before an everlasting Judge,
From whence no passenger ever returned,
The undiscovered country, at those sight
The happy smile, and the accursed damned.
-Hamlet (First aka "Bad" Quarto)
In 1943, Merope dreams.
She had never seen the room before, but the taste in furnishings was familiar. There were three people sitting in matched uncomfortable-looking chairs, none of them young, none of them familiar, although it seemed she should... someone's uncle? It wouldn't hold still in her mind. She could tell they were speaking, but their voices were muffled, garbled as if they were under water, or she were.
When the door swung open all three looked up in shock, expressions communicating as clearly as their unintelligible words could.
The man who entered, she did recognize. Or did she? Hadn't Tom's chin been a bit weaker, his teeth a little straighter? But when he spoke, she could hear him, and his voice was Tom's.
"Did you think you could forget me forever?"
Then he raised his wand, and Merope knew who he was. Something inside her twisted painfully.
"I don't think I'm interested in what you have to say." He was trying to sound flippant, and very nearly succeeded. He did make the wave of his wand that hexed all three of them still and silent look casual, almost careless. He pulled a yellowed sheet of paper from his pocket, unfolding it. "You've made yourself quite clear already. Did you think they didn't keep files, that I'd never see this?" His voice was cold as he read, but the slightest bit shaky. " 'Whatever that girl said, the brat's not mine. Take your begging elsewhere, you'll get nothing from me.' " Without a word, he burned the paper to ash. "Succinct, but thorough." He raised his wand, and her vision went green.
Merope whimpers in her sleep, but no-one notices.
In 1947, a new nurse comes to work at the hospital. She hears that 'Melanie-No-Last-Name-Given' has been a patient for at least ten years, catatonic the whole time, and seemed not to have aged a day.
The nurse is a half-blood, and can guess at what might be happening. It's happened before. Unwilling to interfere, she simply casts a glamour on Merope, making her easy to forget, easy to ignore.
In 1981, Merope dreams.
The moon was full. The moon was full and shimmering green, and somewhere a woman was screaming.
A shape formed on the moon, an unfamiliar sigil formed of skull and serpent.
A louder, wilder scream, and the moon shattered, splitting into quarters, crumbling into shards, tumbling from the sky.
Merope opens her eyes.
TBC in "I Hope Your Soul's at Rest"