Chapter XXVIII: Christmas Suggestions

‘Highly diligent, Miss Snape,’ Severus commented as soon as Melvin had disappeared around the corner to sneak down to the kitchen in order to ask the elves for some hot chocolate. ‘Not many Gobstone players would voluntarily face those temperatures.’

Demeter shrugged and continued picking up the stones. ‘It’s not that cold. And besides, now that the ground is frozen it is much smoother and easier to play on.’

Severus raised his eyebrows. ‘And what is the true reason for meeting your friend out here?’

Demeter blushed ever so slightly and quickly lowered her head, busying herself with the Gobstone bag. But Severus did not take his eyes of her. He knew that Demeter and Melvin were not playing Gobstones outdoors in late December because they were in dire need of practise. In fact, he had quite often seen them sneak into empty classrooms or deserted gardens over the last couple of weeks. Not to cook up mischief or do things which Severus did not want his daughter to do for at least twenty-five more years, but simply to get away from their House mates.

‘I understand that Slytherin and Gryffindor House are not exactly on speaking terms since the last Quidditch match,’ Severus pointed out as it became clear to him that his daughter would not give him an answer.

‘That’s one way to put it,’ Demeter muttered and then finally raised her head again. Her eyes were narrowed, her jaw set, and Severus couldn’t help but smirk at the characteristic Snape scowl that had replaced the blush on Demeter’s face. But unfortunately, the animosities that had flared up between Slytherin and Gryffindor House were no laughing matter. Ever since the Slytherin Quidditch team had triumphed over Gryffindor two weeks ago – due to the Slytherins’ superb ability to hide their fouls from the referee and rather than their flying skills – not a day had passed without at least one Gryffindor and Slytherin getting into a fight. And whereas neither Slytherins nor Gryffindors had done much more than roll their eyes Demeter and Melvin’s friendship earlier, the mood had now definitely changed.

‘Does your mother know?’ Severus asked.

‘Of course she does,’ Demeter replied with a slightly annoyed tone. ‘The whole Slytherin Quidditch team got detention for a month, and she said that any Slytherin who hexes a Gryffindor will have to join them.’

Severus fixed his daughter with a penetrating look. ‘I am aware that the Head of Slytherin House is dealing with any wrongdoers. What I was referring to was the fact that you and your Gryffindor friend are hiding away from people in order to avoid hateful comments. Does you mother know about that, Demeter?’

‘Mother has got enough on her mind.’

Demeter’s answer came quickly, and it took Severus by surprise. Surely, Morgaine would never be too busy to turn away her daughter when she sought advice.

‘It’s okay,’ Demeter assured him, her eyes wide as if she were scared of something. ‘I mean, there isn’t much Mother can do, right? And besides, it’s the holidays soon. I bet people will have forgotten all about the little Quidditch skirmish after the New Year.’

Severus frowned. Somehow, he had the feeling that Demeter had not spoken to her mother at all. He did not, however, get the opportunity to ask Demeter about it as footsteps could be heard from the other side of the yard.

‘That is my cue,’ Severus announced, already dissolving into thin air. He knew that the Riverbed boy was uncomfortable in his company. Not that he had ever bothered about whether he made anyone uncomfortable. But he did not want to disturb the little time Demeter had with her friend.

‘You know where to find me,’ he whispered as Melvin was mere feet away, and Demeter once more lowered her head, pretending to tie up the Gobstone bag.

‘Yes, I do,’ she whispered back from behind the curtain of her black hair. ‘Thanks.’

Severus lingered for a couple of moments, observing the two friends with an uncanny feeling in the pit of his stomach. He knew from experience how hard it was to be friends with someone from a rivalling House. He and Lily had hidden away, too, for a while at least. And he had foolishly enough believed that their friendship were strong enough to last. But it hadn’t. Now he could only hope that Demeter and Melvin would not make the same stupid mistakes he and Lily had made.

~ ~ ~
‘How about we go abroad, you and I, over Christmas? You know, somewhere warm and sunny. The Caribbean, for example.’

Morgaine raised an eyebrow at George, an incredulous look on her face. ‘I fear neither of us tans very well,’ she pointed out. ‘Red hair, pale skin. One day at the beach and we will look like lobsters.’

‘We don’t need to go to the beach,’ George exclaimed. ‘We can spend the whole day in a bar. I hear the rum’s cheap there.’

He lifted the bottle to refill both their glasses, but Morgaine held a hand over her glass, shaking her head. She thought it too early in the afternoon to have a second glass. And she wasn’t entirely sure that George having a second one was a good idea either. Neither was she sure about whether it really was only his second.

‘So, Healer Bellewood thinks you’re suffering from stress?’ George asked after he had examined the rum bottle for a while and then put it back on the table without refilling his glass. ‘Seven years of medical studies, fifteen years of practice and that’s all she can come up with? Amazing. She told me the same thing, by the way. Said I needed a break. Doesn’t realise that this shop doesn’t run itself.’

Morgaine peered through the big window which enabled her to see almost the whole of Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes. As usual, the shop was packed with customers, and George’s dragon hide boots looked expensive enough to suggest that business was indeed running very well.

‘The Caribbean is off then?’ she asked, winking, and George laughed.

‘If you really want to go, I’ll shut the shop down over the holidays,’ he offered with a spark of mischief in his eyes that reminded Morgaine of the prankster he had been at school. But all too soon, the spark went out and was replaced by a frown.

‘It would feel like running away, though, wouldn’t it?’ he asked. ‘We’d get away for a couple of days, but we would leave our hearts behind. And sooner or later, we’d have to come back.’

‘And face our ghosts,’ Morgaine finished his thought.

George nodded and slowly turned to face the portrait of his beloved brother. And Morgaine did not need to see his face to know that his jaw muscles had tightened and that there – most probably – were tears shining in his eyes.

There wasn’t any need for more words. Ever since Morgaine had visited Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes with Demeter, she had felt that she and George shared something few people could understand. They had both lost the person who had been closest to their heart and were now struggling to survive without a part of their soul.

They had not talked about it back at the end of August, but when Morgaine had visited Diagon Alley a month later, she had found George at the Leaky Cauldron, clutching a glass of rum at two in the afternoon. She had been worried for him, kept him company, listened to him and tried to console him, and after having persuaded him to switch his rum for strong, black coffee, she had brought him home before departing for Spinner’s End herself. Since that afternoon, she had looked in on him twice a month on her way back from St. Mungo’s. Funnily enough, talking to George had a more calming effect on Morgaine than talking to the Healer had.

‘Why are you seeing Healer Bellewood anyway?’ George suddenly asked, turning around and fixing Morgaine with a questioning look. ‘Why don’t you talk to Poppy?’

Morgaine sneered. ‘Because the walls of Hogwarts hear more than your Extendable Ears ever will.’

‘And you don’t want Severus to know.’

Morgaine cringed slightly. Sometimes, especially after a glass or two, George could be awfully blunt and straightforward. Of course, she did not want Severus to know that she was falling into pieces, and George was well aware of that because she had told him once after half a bottle of rum. But there was no need to throw the truth at her like this. George did not, however, seem to notice the effect his statement had on her.

‘You know,’ he went on, ‘I envied you at first, Morgaine. I thought that you were better off than me because you have a ghost to talk to while all I have left is a portrait.’

Morgaine felt her throat go tight and swallowed drily. She did not feel that she was in any kind of favourable position. But she did not want to argue with George about which of them was suffering the worse fate.

‘Just imagine the havoc Peeves and Fred’s ghost would cause at Hogwarts,’ she said instead, trying to keep her voice steady and swallow the lump in her throat. ‘They would certainly cause more destruction than the Death Eaters did during the battle.’

‘At least Fred’s ghost would make people laugh,’ George pointed out, approaching her slowly, still looking at her. ‘I have the feeling that the presence of your ghost is creating anything but. Am I right?’

Morgaine tightened her grip around her glass, suddenly regretting that she had turned down a refill. Then she would at least be able to pretend drinking and win some seconds to think about her answer. But her glass was empty, and George did not seem to want to wait for an answer.

‘How many times have you come to see me since that Saturday at the Leaky Cauldron?’ he asked. ‘Five, six times?’

Morgaine nodded.

‘And how many times have you let me drone on without once talking about how you are feeling?’

Morgaine opened her mouth to respond, but George raised his hand, shaking his head.

‘I know it’s tearing you apart, Morgaine. I can see that you are itching to go back to Hogwarts and at the same time taking any excuse to stay here just a little while longer. I know how it feels. Some days I cannot make myself look at Fred’s portrait, and other days I cannot make myself look away from it.’

He turned to face the portrait once more, and Morgaine squeezed her eyes shut as to will back the tears which she did not want to cry. George had no idea. He did not know that his and her pain, as similar as they were, were at the same time completely different. Fred was gone and would never come back, and there was nothing George could do about it. Severus, however, was still at Hogwarts, still around and at the same time gone. And while George had no other choice than to acknowledge that his brother was gone for good, Morgaine knew that she would have to make a choice: she would either have to learn how to live with a ghost or learn how to live the rest of her life without him. Healer Bellewood made her say this out loud at least once during every session, but saying it out loud did not make the decision any easier. And Morgaine wished for nothing more than that someone else could make the decision for her, just as fate had made the decision for George.

When she opened her eyes again, George was kneeling in front of her. ‘I don’t envy you anymore, Morgaine,’ he said quietly, enfolding her hands in his. ‘And I won’t say that I understand your pain. I doubt I ever will. But my door will always be open for you. And should you – today or any other day – decide that you do not want to go back to Hogwarts, I will not throw you out. And I will listen to what you have to say. Hell, I’ll let you drink my last rum if it makes it easier for you.’

Morgaine gave a short laugh as George picked up the bottle and presented it to her as if he were a waiter in a over-prized restaurant and the rum a bottle of the finest wine. And she wished she could talk to him, wished she could tell him those things which she could not make herself tell Healer Bellewood. Instead, she sighed and squeezed his hand.

‘You know, George, in order to tell you what is going on in my heart, I will have to get my own head around things first.’

‘Whenever you’re ready, my friend.’

He rose and refilled both their glasses, and they toasted and drank to a merry Christmas, the Caribbean and the hopefully cheap rum.

~ ~ ~
Rarely was the Great Hall filled with so much chatter and laughter as on the last night of term. Hagrid had as always put up twelve enormous Christmas trees, the elves had produced the delicious dinner, and the decorations – put up and bewitched by Professor Flitwick – were the most sparkling Hogwarts had seen in many years.

The mood could not have been more joyful. Most students were looking forward to going home the next morning to spend the holidays with their families, and those who were staying at Hogwarts were in their turn looking forward to two lesson free weeks during which they could explore the castle to their hearts’ desires. Oh, the possibilities! Especially as caretaker Filch would be going away for a couple of days, taking Mrs Norris with him, of course.

Morgaine sensed the joyous mood as well, of course, but she very much wished for the dinner to pass quickly and for Minerva’s end-of-term speech to be the shortest in the history of the school. Her ambition for the night was to sink into a hot bath and then – hopefully – retire for a full night’s sleep. Considering the fact that she had had two glasses of rum at George’s and that the toddy Hagrid had been serving in the staff room had been anything but weak, there was a slight possibility that she might actually go to sleep without a potion for a change. Then tomorrow, she would finally have the time and energy to spend the whole day with Demeter and do all those mother-daughter things that seemed inappropriate during the school year. They could go Christmas shopping in Hogsmeade or venture into the Forbidden Forest. Maybe, if they could persuade Hagrid to guide them, they would be able to see unicorns.

‘It’s actually a shame to leave all this, don’t you think? I mean, where else can one find such a magnificent Christmas decoration? And the food …’

Morgaine looked up at the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, who was refilling his plate for the third time. The young man sure had a healthy appetite, which Morgaine had noticed over the last couple two months. The first time Alek had chosen to sit beside her at dinner had been at the Halloween feast, and then he had eaten more cake, ice cream and sweets than one would think physically possible. Where he put it all was beyond her.

‘Really,’ Alek continued after a few mouthfuls of steak and kidney pie, ‘if it weren’t for Melvin, I wouldn’t leave Hogwarts. I’d stay and eat until the elves go on strike.’

‘You will be accompanying Melvin to his mother’s?’ Morgaine asked, trying not to grin at the way Alek was stuffing food into his mouth as if he had not eaten in days. ‘Melvin mentioned he would be spending the holidays with her.’

Alek nodded and washed the pie down with a healthy gulp of ale. ‘It’s important to spend the holidays with one’s family,’ he stated, wiping his mouth with his napkin. ‘We will be spending Christmas in Estonia. It’s more or less a tradition. Our mother took my sister and me there every year, and I think her parents took her there as well. Our great-great-grandfather bought an estate when he realised that his wife was more annoying than a Banshee. It was where he escaped to every now and then, and his wife never found him. To this day, the estate is still unplottable.’

He reached for the mashed potatoes but heeded himself. ‘I should save room for pudding,’ he mumbled and then looked over at Morgaine’s plate. ‘You don’t eat much, do you?’

‘I sleep poorly if I eat to much in the evening,’ Morgaine explained, looking down at her plate. Half of the mash and vegetables were still untouched. The pie, she had not even bothered with. ‘And as I know what’s for dessert,’ she added in a conspiratory tone, ‘I would advise you not have any more mash.’

As on command, the main course vanished and was replaced by a wide assortment of desserts. There were cakes and biscuits and uncountable flavours of ice cream and custards, and right in front of every person in the Great Hall appeared a plate filled with their favourite dish. On Alek’s plate, for example, sat a huge piece of cream and coconut cake.

‘Goodness,’ he groaned as he put the first spoon full into his mouth. ‘I think I died and went to heaven!’

He was completely unapproachable for the next couple of minutes, and as Morgaine watched him devour the cake as if it were the most delicious dessert on the planet, she couldn’t help but smile. Alek was just adorable. So honest, so laid-back and always so friendly. Morgaine couldn’t recall a single occasion on which she had seen him frown. There was always a smile on his face and a twinkle in his hazel eyes.

‘You know, Morgaine, I’d rather you ate something yourself than watch me eat,’ he suddenly said, looking up at her from his plate. ‘In fact, I think you should try this cake. It’s heavenly.’ And before Morgaine knew what was happening, he had shoved his plate towards her.

‘I am not going to eat your dessert, Alek,’ she protested, indicating the Sticky Toffee Pudding in front of her. ‘I have my own.’

Alek defiantly picked up his spoon. ‘Don’t make me feed you.’

Morgaine laughed. She could just imagine the look on Minerva’s face if she saw her Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher spoon feed her Potions mistress. Certainly, such a thing had never happened before, and Morgaine doubted that the Headmistress would approve. There were other people at the staff table, however, who most probably would. Pomona, for example, had dropped quite a few hints over the last couple weeks. Obviously, she thought that Morgaine should encourage Alek’s flirting attempts a little more. Morgaine had frowned at the Herbology teacher when she had mentioned that. Surely, Alek Riverbed was not flirting with her. He was just being nice. But she had to admit that she liked him, a lot even. They had become good friends over the last year. And friends did not flirt.

‘Seeing as you are not going to eat the cake and will probably hex me into next year should I try to feed you,’ Alek suddenly interrupted her musings, ‘may I ask you a question?’

Morgaine leaned back in her chair, crossed her arms in front of her chest and eyed the young man. All of a sudden, he sounded rather serious and was shifting uncomfortably in his chair. And Morgaine felt a slight urge to let him sweat. But then again, that wouldn’t have been fair, would it?

‘You may ask whatever you want, Alek,’ she said in a tone that very much resembled the one she used with her students. ‘I cannot, however, guarantee you an answer.’

Alek cleared his throat. ‘Well, I was thinking, um … Demeter and Melvin, well, the two seem to like each other very much, and you and I ...’ He broke off, blushing, but found his voice again before Morgaine could butt in. ‘What I am trying to ask is: would you and Demeter like to spend New Year’s with us? With Melvin and me? And my sister, of course.’

He had said all that very fast, and once he had finished, his cheeks had gone from pink to crimson. Morgaine stared at him for a moment, too taken aback to give him an answer.

‘I … I’m sorry,’ Alek stammered, misinterpreting her silence. ‘I should not have asked that. Totally out of place. I … I apologise. I ...’

‘Don’t apologise, Alek. I think your invitation is rather …’ What was it, exactly? Sweet? Flattering.

‘Totally out of place,’ Alek repeated. There was a frown on his face now. Obviously, he was angry with himself. ‘Please, forget that I ever said anything.’

Morgaine smiled. ‘What a shame,’ she replied, playing with her napkin. ‘I was just about to ask you to give me some time to consider your offer.’

‘You’ll think about it? You really will?’ The frown had disappeared in a blink of an eye, and Alek was once more beaming. ‘Will you send me an owl? Oh, no you can’t do that. Unplottable and everything. May I send you an owl?’

Morgaine picked up her spoon and reached for Alek’s plate. ‘Yes, Alek,’ she said. ‘You may send me an owl.’

~ ~ ~
‘May I come in?’

He still hadn’t come up with a way to knock, so the least Severus could do was to halt once he had floated through the door and ask permission to enter. Not that he thought Morgaine would ever turn him away. He knew for certain that she missed him just as much as he missed her.

‘I’ll be right out.’

Severus nodded, despite Morgaine not being able to see it from her bedroom, and started to drift around her study. Tidy as ever, he concluded. And as always, the curtains were tightly shut. And on the desk stood once more a bottle of rosemary oil.

‘You are still having headaches,’ Severus stated as Morgaine entered the study a few minutes later, wearing a black dressing gown. Her cheeks were rosy and her hair wet. She had obviously just had a bath. And Severus could have sworn that he caught a swift of sandalwood and honey. But that, he thought, could be nothing more than a memory. Ghosts were not able to distinguish smells.

‘They come and go,’ Morgaine declared, picking up the tiny bottle to shake it before Severus’ nose. ‘See? It’s not even half empty.’

‘And when did you break the seal?’

Morgaine smirked and put the bottle back down. She wasn’t going to answer Severus’ question, so much was clear.

‘Are you taking potions as well?’ he enquired.

To that question, Morgaine shook her head. ‘Working in the dungeons has its advantages. It is dark and cool down there, and it makes things easier to bear. But you know that, of course.’

‘Does Poppy know?’

Severus was growing impatient, even frustrated, but Morgaine did not react to his harsh tone.

‘You didn’t come here to discuss my health, did you, Severus?’ she asked instead of answering his question. ‘You are here because you are worried about Demeter.’ She smiled. ‘She does talk to me, you know. And I do have time for her, whenever she shows up at my doorstep.’

‘I was not criticising your parenting,’ Severus protested.

‘I never said you were.’ Morgaine was still smiling and settled in the armchair by the fire, wrapping a shawl around her shoulders.

‘You are aware then that Demeter and Melvin are hiding away on empty classrooms and the frozen grounds to escape scathing comments from their House mates?’

‘Her House mates,’ Morgaine corrected him, both the look on her face and the tone of her voice uttermost serious now. ‘It is the Gryffindors that are disapproving of Demeter and Melvin’s friendship. There hasn’t been a whisper in Slytherin House. And trust me, I do know what happens in that House.’

‘Are they keeping a low profile because Demeter’s mother is their Head of House?’ Severus suggested. ‘Are they fearing repercussions?’

Morgaine shrugged. ‘That’s a plausible explanation. Maybe we should be content with it. For tonight at least.’

‘Maybe we should.’ Severus eyed Morgaine with a frown. She had pulled her feet up and wrapped her arms around her knees. She looked cold, and the rosy colour had all but disappeared from her cheeks.

‘You should go to bed, Morgaine,’ he suggested. ‘It is almost midnight.’

Morgaine gave a short, dry laugh. ‘There is no point in me going to bed. I haven’t had a whole night’s sleep since ...’ She broke off and sighed. ‘I don’t know when.’

‘Since the night you left the dungeons,’ Severus stated.

‘Are you spying on me?’ Morgaine asked. The tone of her voice suggested that she was attempting to jest, but her attempt was only half-hearted, and she failed miserably. ‘Or has Dumbledore told you?’

Severus let his eyes wander to the empty canvas beside the fireplace from which he knew Dumbledore had been keeping an eye on Morgaine for many nights over the last two months. But tonight, the frame was empty. And he doubted that the old Headmaster would disturb them.

‘I do not need Dumbledore to tell me whether you are sleeping or how you are feeling, Morgaine,’ he said slowly, his eyes still on the canvas. ‘No matter how good an Occlumens you have become over the years, no matter how hard you are trying to shut me out and I am trying to keep away, I can still sense you. Just as you can still sense me.’

‘I wish you didn’t have to.’

The sad sound of her voice made Severus look at Morgaine again. He would not have been surprised to see her crying, but her cheeks were dry. Her eyes, however, were filled with an endless sadness that cut right into Severus’ heart.

It wasn’t fair. Staying with him had not been good for her and had kept her from living the life a woman her age should live. Night after night she had spent with him in the dungeons, caring more about his company than socialising in the staff room. And when she had realised that it was not working out, that she could not live with a ghost, she had left, and he had let her go. But ever since the first night he had spent alone in the dungeons, Severus had heard her mind – her heart – whisper to him at night. No matter how much logic dictated that ghost and human were no match, they both knew that without the other, neither of them was whole and neither of them would survive.

‘I want to sense you,’ Severus declared, his eyes firmly attached to Morgaine’s. ‘There is nothing in the world, this or the one beyond, I want more than to be by your side for ever.’

He drifted closer and stretched out a ghostly hand. Morgaine did not shrink away, and Severus could have sworn that he was able to feel the warmth of her skin.

‘You have been missed, Morgaine of the Lake. I have missed you.’

The moments passed, and neither of them said anything. But they needed neither words or Legilimency to know that they were both pondering the same question, the question of how they would ever be able to fulfil their most dire wish: to be at each other’s side. Forever.