Chapter 3
Riding on horseback was exhilarating like nothing Merope had ever tried before. This, she thought, was a singular kind of freedom. To move at rapid speed, the wind in her face, it felt almost like flying. And not in the unstable way of brooms, but safely, the horse being able to tell whether a maneouvre was smart or not, and able to change course accordingly. She instantly fell in love with it. The fact that she was sitting behind Tom on his horse’s back, her arms around his torso made it all the more joyous and she felt a strange flutter in her chest being this close to him. It was lucky that it was still so early that nobody saw them or the town would be abuzz with talk of the scandal come noon.
When Merope mentioned that fact to Tom, he merely laughed and said: “I wish they were awake. I wish everyone would see us together and know what a lucky man I am to have such a wonderful young woman by my side.”
Merope blushed and nestled closer into him. When the Gaunt shack appeared in their field of vision, Tom made Marshall turn onto a path leading inside the forest to make sure her family wouldn’t see them. All too soon, he halted the horse.
“I don’t think I should get any closer than this, darling”, he said morosely.
“You’re right”, she sighed, gliding off Marshall’s back. She had been hoping to appear elegant, but stumbled several feet forwards before catching herself on a tree branch.
Tom snickered as he dismounted the horse.
“You truly know how to lift a mood”, he said with a smile so deep she could hear it.
She felt her face heat up but found only adoration when she met his eyes.
Hesitantly, she leaned forwards and pressed a soft kiss on his lips. He cupped her head and kissed her back, strong and demanding. She moaned, moving closer until her world shrank down to him. Everything she sensed was Tom. Pressed against him, she could feel his heart beating in sync with hers. They fit together like puzzle pieces, connected after long, painful separation.
A heartbeat or an eternity later, she pulled back, breathing heavily. Merope would’ve been self-conscious had she not seen her pleasure and excitement mirrored in his face, had she not felt his bone-deep arousal. His wish to stay here in the forest with her was plain to see and one she longed to fulfil but-
“I need to get inside and start breakfast”, she whispered regretfully.
“What I wouldn’t give to have you make breakfast for me”, he replied, desire in his eyes.
She gripped his hands tightly. “One day we’ll marry and I’ll make you breakfast every day. Two times per day, even.”
He laughed. “I love you so much, Merope.”
“I love you, too Tom.” She pressed a quick kiss onto his cheek and hurried away before they could get distracted again.
As she walked towards the house she lived in, she felt a new certainty in her choices. An urgency to see them through. She was going to escape her family and then she was going to marry Tom and never look back.
She wished it were as simple as running away. But she couldn’t abandon the muggles to their fate. If she left and her family remained in the shack, there was no telling what they would do. Even if she were to take their wands, they could use snakes to attack. Something needed to change. If you asked her, the ministry should deal with them. This was yet another reason she often bemoaned their poverty. They couldn’t even afford a post owl and their house wasn’t part of the floo system. They were completely isolated and reliant on people coming to them.
Suddenly, an idea struck Merope, and a smile settled on her face.
She closed in on the disgusting hovel she called her home and took one last, long breath before entering. The stench of meat and fat assaulted her nose the moment she opened the door, as it did whenever she entered. Merope had long since given up on airing it out. Her father enjoyed the smell for reasons unknown and made sure it was a permanent fixture of the house.
She hurried to the kitchen and started heating up two frying pans. She grabbed thin slices of fat-streaked meat from the chilled cabinet and placed them in one of the pans, then cracked four eggs into the other. She sprinkled seasoning over it and cut thick slices of bread, the only carb source besides potatoes her family would deign to eat. Once magic told her the food was finished, she placed it on two plates, filling her own with bread and wild berry compote. As if summoned, her father and brother stumbled inside the room and sat down heavy on their chairs.
They ate in relative silence. Her father always woke up early and had chosen to make that everyone else’s problem by demanding early breakfast, even though he wasn’t coherent enough to string two words together at that time of day. The lack of conversation made the sounds of eating stand out and Merope felt reminded of the sound of pigs feeding. Despite the unpleasant comparison, breakfast was the meal she dreaded least. Neither her father nor her brother were awake enough to curse the muggles or interrogate her about what she’d been doing and so she was free to think without reprimand.
Today however, their lack of awareness was inconvenient. Merope wasn’t one to wait once she’d formulated a plan in her head. She wished she could dump a bucket of water on their heads so things could get started. She could feel her irritation thicken the air around her and tried her best to ignore it. She would be able to wait for another few hours. Things would take time to unfold properly anyway.