Chapter XXVII: Burying Some Hatchets

Darkness. That was all there was, impenetrable, absorbing darkness. But still Morgaine knew that she was in Severus’ old study. Five steps forward into the darkness and she would walk right into Severus’ old desk. If she walked to the left, she would reach the shelf that held jars filled with what most people would describe as slimy-looking, horrid things. But to Severus, those jars had been treasures. To the left, she would find the ingredients cupboard, filled to the brim with wondrous things like powdered unicorn hooves, dried belladonna and wormwood. Yes, Morgaine knew where she was. She didn’t need to be able to see to recognise the place where she had found her soul mate, the place where she had lost her heart, the place which now threatened to bereave her of her sanity.

But it was nothing but a dream, Morgaine knew that, too. A dream from which she was not sure that she wanted to awake. The darkness might be oppressing and the chill of the dungeons penetrating her very bones, but the dungeons of her dreams also offered a sort of emptiness which she embraced. In this darkness, there were no ghosts. In this darkness, she was free. And so was Severus.

Suddenly, a tiny light erupted in the far most corner, and slowly, the dungeons were illuminated, as if someone had lit a candle. The light spread, and the brighter it became, the quicker the dungeon dissolved. Morgaine knew that this was the end of the dream, that she was waking up, but for some moments, she kept her eyes tightly shut, willing the darkness to return, to fill the familiar room once more and drag her into the nothingness. But it was no use. The dungeon disappeared, and when Morgaine opened her eyes, she found herself, not in Severus’ old study, but in her own bedchamber.

She blinked. The room was dark, not as dark at the dungeon had been, but still dark enough to conclude that it must be the middle of the night. What had awoken her? Why had she not been allowed to stay in the dungeon, in that blissful darkness?

‘Is it morning yet?’

Demeter’s drowsy voice made Morgaine let go of her dream at once, and she turned her head to look at her daughter, who was lying curled up beside her, not really asleep, but not completely awake either.

‘No, it’s not morning yet, little one,’ she whispered, brushing a strand of black hair from Demeter’s cheek. ‘Go back to sleep.’ She never received an answer. Instead, Demeter’s breathing soon turned deep and regular again.

There was a beam of silvery moonlight travelling across the room from a gap of the curtain, illuminating Demeter’s face. Her eyes were still puffy, and there were traces of dried tears on her pale cheeks. And with a bang all the memories of the last evening came back to Morgaine. Surely, she must be the worst mother in the world. Her daughter had come to her with a problem, and she had absolutely no idea how to fix it. She had not even been able to comfort the girl as she had started to cry.

Demeter crying had actually been the most difficult thing to deal with the previous night. Demeter was not of the weeping kind, had never been, not even as a baby. That she cried now showed Morgaine clearly just how desperate her daughter was. And she had not been able to give her even the tiniest piece of advice. So she had let the girl cry and just wrapped a consoling arm around her shaking shoulders, rocking her gently as if she were a baby. Neither of them had spoken; Demeter because she had been sobbing too hard to be able to form any words and Morgaine because she had not had anything to say.

Eventually, Demeter’s sobs had subsided, and when Morgaine had looked down, she had noticed that her little angel had cried herself to sleep. Quietly, she had levitated her to her own bed and then called for an elf, which she sent to Gryffindor Tower to inform the Fat Lady that Demeter would not return to her common room that night. Instead, the girl would be sleeping in her mother’s chambers.

Her mother’s chambers. Morgaine smiled sadly and looked down at her child again. What kind of mother was she, anyway? Her own daughter had to call her Professor and had only dared to come and see her under the pretence of having a problem with her Potions homework. And Morgaine had had nothing to offer but a hug. No comforting words and most certainly no good advice.

Why was this so hard? She had given other people advice on much more complicated matters, sometimes on matters that had concerned life or death. Why did she seem utterly unable to help her child?

Silently, she slipped out of bed. There was no point in even trying to go back to sleep. She knew from experience that she wouldn’t find the peace of mind to fall asleep again. Instead, she grabbed her dressing gown and tiptoed out of the room, leaving her daughter in the land of dreams. She would be better off there.

Closing the door silently behind her, Morgaine’s eyes fell on the stack of essays still lying on her desk. She had never got around to trying to restore them last night. Probably, it would take her a while to get all the ink off the parchments. But however tedious it was to syphon the ink of every essay separately, it was nothing compared to the task of lighting a fire in the grate. At some point, Morgaine even considered resorting to using Muggle matches. She knew she had a box of them lying around somewhere.

‘Maybe you should have Ollivander have a look at your wand.’

One might think that a voice seemingly coming from nowhere in the middle of the night would startle anyone, but Morgaine just slowly turned her head and looked up at the empty canvas that was hanging right beside the fireplace.

‘There is nothing wrong with my wand,’ she said calmly. ‘You and I both know that, Dumbledore.’

Upon being addressed, Albus Dumbledore appeared on the otherwise empty canvas, and almost simultaneously, the flames erupted in the grate.

‘Shall we say then that you are simply too tired to cast the spell properly?’ he suggested, looking down at his great-granddaughter, who was still kneeling on the floor.

‘Don’t tell me you haven’t spied on me enough times to know that I have been having trouble with that spell for almost a year now.’

‘Spied?’ Dumbledore sounded affronted. ‘I would never spy on you, dear child. If you must know, Severus mentioned it. He noticed when he watched you brewing potions.’

‘Of course.’ Morgaine got up from the cold stone floor and settled onto the armchair that was standing in front of the grate, biting her tongue so she would not accuse Dumbledore of using Severus as a spy even now when they were both dead. She wasn’t in the mood to argue with the old man that night. She was indeed far too tired.

‘We are all concerned about your well-being, child,’ Dumbledore continued, politely ignoring the slightly venomous tone in Morgaine’s voice. ‘I therefore hope that you are not too angry with me for looking in on you now and then.’

Morgaine shook her head. Of course she was not angry. She had noticed Dumbledore sneaking into the empty portrait already some nights ago. She had been grading papers and seen him out of the corner of her eye. But as he had not spoken to her, she had decided to ignore him. And when she had seen him again the next night and the next, she had understood that he was checking up on her. If she were honest with herself, she would admit that she appreciated the gesture. Him peeking around the frame once or twice every hour made her nights a little less lonely.

‘You haven’t been down to the dungeons for a week now,’ Dumbledore pointed out, looking down at Morgaine over the rim of his spectacles.

‘I teach in the dungeons, Dumbledore,’ Morgaine replied defiantly. ‘I am down there every day.’

‘This is not what I meant, child.’

The tone in Dumbledore’s voice was as kind as the look in his blue eyes. And as Morgaine locked eyes with him, she felt something stir deep inside her chest. If she were to describe the sensation, she would have compared it to ice melting in the first rays of the spring sun.

‘I cannot go there,’ she said quietly.

She kept eye-contact with her great-grandfather, desperately hoping he would give her some advice, just as he had done when she had still been a child. But Dumbledore kept quiet, and his silence forced Morgaine to talk.

‘I am scared, afi,’ she confessed, not even realising that she – for the first time in many years – was addressing Dumbledore, not with his last name, but with the Icelandic term for grandfather, a title which she had believed that Dumbledore had lost the right to carry.

‘I am scared,’ she repeated, ‘scared that one day, I will go to Severus and then not have the strength to leave him again.’

‘Are you longing to join him?’ the old wizard asked, his voice still calm and without any trace of accusation.

‘I am longing to be whole again.’ Morgaine buried her face in her hands and squeezed her eyes shut. How could she admit to her great-grandfather that he was right? How could she admit that she sometimes longed for nothing more than to be at Severus’ side for eternity? How could she admit that she had already taken the first steps to assure this, down in the Potions lab and in Knockturn Alley?

But it wasn’t an option, not yet.

‘I have to protect my child.’

Dumbledore nodded. ‘And Severus will be right by your side.’

‘It’s not my fault then?’ Morgaine looked pleadingly up at the portrait. ‘He’s not still here because I am making him? Because I am unable to let him go?’

‘Dear child,’ Dumbledore started, stroking his long white beard. ‘I think Severus’ role is the same as he had in life. He is to protect a child that belongs to the Light. He is to stand between her and the Dark. And once his task is fulfilled, you will both have to make a choice. Hopefully, by that time, you will be ready.’

‘Mum?’

Demeter’s voice made Morgaine spin around in her chair. Demeter was leaning against the door frame, her hair dishevelled, her feet bare and her arms tightly clutching a pillow towards her chest.

‘What are you doing up, Demeter?’ Morgaine asked, desperately hoping that the girl had just entered the room, that she had not heard.

‘I know what to do with the Gobstones,’ Demeter answered with a thick voice. ‘I’ll mix them, make two new sets out of them. Red and green stones in both.’

The girl’s eyes were half-closed. Apparently she was more asleep than awake. And Morgaine rose from her chair to guide her daughter back to the bed, convinced that she had not heard anything.

As Morgaine tucked Demeter in, she found herself being pulled into an sleepy hug. ‘I woke up, and you we’re gone,’ the girl mumbled. ‘I was afraid you’d left.’

Morgaine inhaled sharply. ‘I’ll never leave you, little one,’ she whispered, placing a tender kiss on Demeter’s raven black hair. ‘I will always be here.’

She sat with her daughter for a couple of minutes, watching her sleep. She looked so peaceful and was surely dreaming of Gobstones and her best friend. And Morgaine envied her for her untroubled sleep. She herself saw no chance of catching any more tonight. Her own mind was too troubled.

As she returned to her study some minutes later to extinguish the fire, the canvas beside the fireplace was once more empty, and she sighed with relief. With Dumbledore gone, she could pretend that the promise she had given her child was true. But in her heart she knew that she would one day have to make the choice to leave her daughter behind.

~ ~ ~
‘All alone, Mr Riverbed?’

Severus couldn’t help but sneer at the way the boy jumped. He had grown up in the Wizarding world and had spent over a year at Hogwarts already. How could he not be used to ghosts appearing out of thin air? It was almost ludicrous.

‘I assume an extra training session never hurts. There are rumours that you are being regularly defeated by a certain Gryffindor.’

Promptly, the boy blushed and lowered his head. Yet two other terribly annoying habits, Severus thought. But he decided to hold his peace for the time being. Morgaine had said that young Riverbed was a good boy. And if Demeter considered him to be her best friend, then maybe he was worth a second chance.

‘Where is your playing partner, Mr Riverbed?’ Severus finally asked after a minute or two of rather awkward silence. Him picking up the conversation again was just as well. There seemed to be little chance that the boy would be the one to do it. He seemed to be far too interested in his own shoes.

‘I don’t know, sir.’

‘I beg your pardon, Mr Riverbed?’ That mumbling was another thing the boy would have to stop.

As if he had heard the ghost’s chiding thoughts, the boy straightened up and looked straight at the ghost in front of him. ‘If you are talking about Demeter, sir, then I do not know where she is. We meet here after breakfast on Sunday morning for a game, but … well, she hasn’t arrived yet.’

Severus narrowed his ghostly eyes. He knew, of course, that Demeter and Melvin played Gobstones every Sunday morning. That was why he had come here. He was just about to ask whether the boy had seen Demeter in the Great Hall for breakfast, when Melvin spoke again.

‘I’m not sure if she is going to come. She didn’t show up last night either.’

‘And why is that?’ Severus enquired, frowning. He had clearly heard Demeter promise the boy that she would play another game with him before dinner the day before. It didn’t seem like Demeter to break her promises.

The boy shrugged. ‘I think it’s my fault, sir,’ he mumbled. ‘I should have bought her some sweets for her birthday instead of a Gobstone set. That was a far too personal gift.’

A Gobstone set? Severus’ frown deepened. He had noticed that Demeter had not been playing with any of the school sets the previous day but with new, red stones. Probably, the new set had been the reason why she had lost so spectacularly against Melvin during their last round. But Severus had been so eager to give Demeter his old stones that he had never even considered asking her why she was suddenly playing with a new set. ‘Maybe you should try a different set of stones,’ he had suggested and given her his old ones. He had not even asked her if she wanted them, but more or less thrust them into her hand. And then left her with them.

‘Melvin!’

Both ghost and boy spun around as Morgaine’s voice carried over the empty yard. But while Melvin looked apprehensively in the direction of his Head of House, Severus could only stare in awe. How could he ever have forgotten how beautiful Morgaine’s hair looked in the sunlight? It was shining in a warm, golden-red tone, and all of a sudden Severus found himself being hurled two decades back in time to Dumbledore’s office, from which he had observed the then fourteen-year-old girl play with Fawkes, the Phoenix. He had been enchanted by her radiant smile then, the smile which he now sorely missed.

The same sunlight that fell upon her hair also rendered Severus almost invisible from a distance, and therefore Morgaine could not see him until she was only a couple of feet away. But she didn’t look surprised. Did that mean that she had sensed him, Severus wondered. And did that in its turn mean that she had not closed her mind completely towards him? Did he dare hope?

‘Melvin, your uncle is looking for you,’ Morgaine informed the boy as she had approached. ‘He is waiting in your common room.’

The boy set off immediately, and for a moment, Severus thought that Morgaine was going to follow him. But she had merely turned to look out over the grounds, her hands deeply buried in her robes.

‘The boy should really stop blushing,’ Severus growled. ‘It is utterly annoying.’

Morgaine shrugged. ‘I find it charming. Or to use Demeter’s words: cute and adorable.’

Severus huffed indignantly. He still could not understand what his daughter saw in the boy.

‘He’s a good kid,’ Morgaine stated. ‘And he cares deeply for Demeter. The Fat Lady told me he went looking for Demeter last night. As she would not grant him access to the Gryffindor common room or tell him whether Demeter was in there or not, he sat down on the cold stone floor and refused to leave until some Gryffindors left the tower and told him that Demeter wasn’t there.’

Severus sneered. Luckily for the boy, he had waited outside the Gryffindor common room for a better reason than Severus himself had so many years ago. Should Melvin Riverbed ever mistreat Demeter in a similar way that Severus had treated Lily, he would rue the day he was born.

‘He went back to Gryffindor tower first thing this morning,’ Morgaine continued. ‘And once more after breakfast. He wouldn’t accept that Demeter hadn’t slept in her dormitory.’

‘Where did she sleep?’ Severus wanted to know.

‘Demeter was with me last night,’ Morgaine explained. ‘I didn’t have the heart to send her back to Gryffindor tower. She was very upset.’

Upset? Severus felt an all too familiar stab of guilt. He was almost certain that Demeter being upset had something to do with the two sets of Gobstones she had received. Why on earth had he not asked about the red set before he had forced his on her?

‘It’s not easy, you know, being a twelve-year-old girl and trying to impress a boy and your father at the same time,’ Morgaine pointed out, her eyes still fixed on a point far out in the grounds. ‘Not easy at all.’

‘Demeter does not have to impress me,’ Severus growled. He wished Morgaine would turn around. He wanted to see her face when she spoke to him. But he did not dare move in front of her. What if she turned away?

‘You know what Demeter’s greatest fear was before coming to Hogwarts?’ Morgaine went on. ‘It wasn’t that she would not know anyone or that she had no idea about the magical world. She was afraid that she would not be good enough for you, that you would not like her.’

‘What is this nonsense?’ Severus snapped. ‘Why would I not ...’

He broke off as Morgaine turned her head to look at him over her shoulder. There was a look in her eyes for which he had not been prepared, an anxious look from red-rimmed eyes which tattled of a sleepless night.

‘Demeter was desperate last night, Severus. Melvin had given her a new set of Gobstones for her birthday, and only an hour later you gifted her with your old set. She did not want to disappoint either of you and did not know which set to choose. At one point, she considered the option of never playing Gobstones again.’

‘She should pick the boy’s set,’ Severus suggested. ‘It is new, and the stones are in perfect condition. And besides, that set carries her House colours.’

Now Morgaine turned to face him. There was the saddest of smiles on her face, and she was shaking her head. ‘Do you really think, Severus, that Demeter would choose the friendship of a boy over the love of her father?’

He did not know what to say. He just stared at Morgaine, wishing she would tell him what to do, wishing she would tell him what to feel. But all she did was incline her head towards the lake.

‘She is down there,’ she said. ‘She took both the sets with her and said she wanted to be alone. But I think she wouldn’t mind your company.’

Then she turned on her heel and left, leaving Severus behind, and he did not dare ask if she wouldn’t mind his company either.

~ ~ ~
Two equal piles, both made up of equal amounts of red and green stones.

Yes, that should do it, Demeter thought. That way, she would always be playing with stones from both sets, and neither Melvin nor her father would feel insulted. Yes, it was a brilliant idea.

She picked up the two bags, filled each with a now mixed-coloured set of Gobstones and was just about to get up from the ground as she felt a familiar prickling sensation on the back of her neck. Someone was watching her. He was watching her.

‘It is not very polite to not keep one’s appointments, Miss Snape,’ came her father’s baritone from behind her.

Demeter did not even flinch. It had almost become natural that he would just appear out of thin air and start talking to her. She had, however, no idea what he was talking about this time.

‘Your appointment with Mr Riverbed,’ the ghost pointed out as he drifted in front of her, and Demeter’s hand immediately shot up to her mouth to keep a rude word from escaping her. She had completely lost track of time while sorting the Gobstones, and now it was half past ten. She and Melvin always met a quarter past.

‘I … I should go then,’ she stammered, shoving the two Gobstone bags into the pocket of her robes.

The ghost, however, shook his head. ‘Mr Riverbed has been called back to his common room,’ he informed Demeter. ‘I am afraid your training session has been cancelled. This should not, however, stop you from trying out your new sets.’

Sets? Plural? Demeter’s eyes widened in surprise. How could he know that she had two sets?

‘Your mother told me.’

Demeter bit her lip, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable. Firstly, because the ghost had – once more – known what she had been thinking. And secondly, because she was afraid that he must think her a coward now. She should have mustered the guts to tell him about Melvin’s present herself when he had given her his old stones. But she had been too afraid that he would take it the wrong way and think that she did not appreciate his present.

‘Melvin gave me a set, too,’ she started to explain. ‘The stones are red and golden, my House colours. And … I think it cost him a lot of money and ...’

‘I think you should play with your friend’s set.’

‘No!’ Demeter exclaimed at once, vehemently shaking her head. ‘I want to play with your stones, too.’

The ghost nodded. ‘A predicament, indeed. How are you planning to solve it?’

Her hand was shaking slightly as Demeter reached into her pocket to once more pull out the two Gobstone bags, one red, one green. ‘I … I mixed the sets,’ she began tentatively. ‘Do you think they’ll work?’

To her surprise, the ghost smiled. ‘I see no reason why they should not,’ he replied. ‘I know that at least the green stones have always played well.’ He paused for a moment. ‘How about we test them?’

‘Test them?’ Demeter repeated. ‘We?’

‘Seeing as your partner is otherwise engaged at the moment, Miss Snape, I offer my services.’

‘But …’ Demeter felt slightly confused. ‘You can’t play. You’re a ghost!’

‘Well spotted,’ the ghost replied drily, and Demeter felt herself blush.

‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean ...’

But the ghost saved her the apology. ‘I will not be able to play with you, but I will gladly watch you and offer my advice. If you want me to, that is.’

Demeter just smiled and nodded. Of course she wanted him to!

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I would like to apologise in advance that you will have to wait a little bit longer for the next chapter. I'm about to move and will be without any internet access for a couple of weeks.