For Lady.
Word count: 1015
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Morag checks left, then right before opening the door to the Room of Requirement. The room is filled with hammocks and trunks, and other personal items. There are over twenty students from all the years, but mostly fifth years and up, staying in this room because it is the only safe haven for them – those who stand up to the Carrows.
She glances around, quickly finding Neville and makes her way to him. He's sitting in the middle of a small group of seventh years, giving instructions on what they are doing tonight. Occasionally, Ginny or Luna chimes in with a change, but otherwise stay silent. The seventh years nod their understanding of the plan.
She waits until they've disbanded before she sets down her school bag in front of Neville. "This is all I could smuggle. The Carrows are watching the kitchens closer now," she tells him. He raises an eyebrow in a silent question. "But don't worry; I wasn't followed."
Neville gives her a smile, causing the bruises on his face to become more predominate. "Anything is better than nothing. Divide it amongst the younger students," he orders.
She meets his eyes with her own, noticing a wisdom that neither of them should possess. "Be careful tonight. The Carrows are in a nasty mood from the last stunt," she warns. When she sees him give her a reassuring smile, she nods. She rations the food out amongst the younger children, knowing that there won't be enough for the older ones.
When all the food had been given away, she takes a seat on her hammock and just watches the people. It's been a long few months, and they haven't reached Christmas break yet. But these students look worn and hurt. She doesn't know if they will make it to the end of the year; and if they did, she doubts they will be the same people.
Even now, when friendships and loyalty are so important, the students are still split. The few seventh years huddle together, planning things that most likely will get them hurt. And the younger students group together with their housemates – if they have any – or with other children their age. A divide runs through the group because the older students are trying to protect the younger ones.
Her eyes flicker over to the far corner of the room, near the bathroom, where a young man with sandy blond hair sits. He's clutching a worn-looking letter in his hands, and it's not the first time that she's seen him read it. Unbearable sadness is written on his face. She's never seen him look so down, so broken. Before she can stop herself, she walks over to Seamus and takes a seat next to him.
He hurries to put the letter away, to hide the worry and the fear that is etched on his face. She places a hand on his arm, causing him to stop his movements. He glances up and meets her dark eyes with his own crystal ones. She gives him a half-smile. "You know, you don't have to hide that here," she whispers, nodding towards the letter in his hand.
"I know," he replies. His eyes flicker down to the letter and then back up to stare at Morag again. "It's just…" he trails off. "I shouldn't be worrying about him now. Not when all this is going on." He motions around the two of them, and she knows what he means. He shouldn't be worrying about somebody else when his own life is at risk.
Her eyes soften. "Worrying about your best friend that's out on the run is nothing to be ashamed about. It just shows that you have something to fight for, something to protect," she says fiercely. Digging in her own coat, she pulls out her own worn-looking letter.
It's the last letter she received from her best friend, Lisa, before she went on the run before the start of term. The creases are well defined and the ink is fading, but Morag still reads the memorized words every night before she goes to bed, to remind herself what she's fighting for. She watches as Seamus' eyes looks at her letter. "We all are worried about someone, and hiding it doesn't make it any less real."
"I just want to know that he's alright," Seamus murmurs. "And I know it's selfish to want that."
There's a long silence before Morag speaks again. "No, it isn't," she reassures him. "It's the not knowing that is the hardest part of this. While we're at Hogwarts, they can't kill us. They can hurt us; they can torture us; they can take our fighting spirit. But they can't kill us. Out there, on the run, they don't have that. They can get killed. So it's not selfish at all to want to know that they're alive."
"Do you think they're okay?" he asks softly. His eyes meet hers once more. And she knows that he wants comfort, that he needs comfort that he's been depriving himself of for months now.
She nods her head. "I'm sure they're just fine." When he looks down at the parchment, she whispers, "They're coming home. You just have to believe that." It's the same words that she's told herself for the past four months. They have to come home.
He puts away his letter and gives her a smile. "Thanks, Morag," he says. He gets up from his hammock and joins the group of seventh years that are planning the retrieval of more food for the younger kids.
She sits in his hammock for a little longer, just watching the group again. Seamus seems to have gotten his fighting spirit back, and the younger children are talking amongst themselves. If Morag didn't know any better, she might have believed that it was a normal day. But then she sees the bruises on the faces of the older students and reality comes crashing back down.
This is a time of war, but she has something to fight for, something precious to protect.
A/n – I think watching an anime has slightly leaked through to this…Oops? Thanks to the beautiful Kelly for beta-ing this.