Morgana didn't know what to do. They had won the war, but at what cost? She was practically vibrating with happiness that the Headmaster had survived, even if he was injured. The news about Remus and Tonks broke her heart; Tonks had just had Teddy, and Morgana wondered what would happen to him now. And then there was George. Oh, George. All the deaths were piling up and weighing her down. She felt sick to her stomach, and when she peeked over at Severus, he didn't look much better.
His face was ashen but when he met her gaze, the tiniest smile broke through. "I survived." The utter disbelief shone through her daze, and she beamed back at him.
"You survived," she agreed, stepping forward to wrap her hand around his wrist. "And we won." Even she could tell that the wan smile tugging at her lips was world-weary and tense.
Morgana stared at their joined hands and sighed. She felt incredibly old, worn down and exhausted, and she hadn't even done much.
Tugging him toward the door, she closed her eyes, willing herself back to her happy, perky self before Harry could see her in this state. She didn't have much time to do a very good job, though, because once she opened the door she found Harry standing there, eyes wide and full of tears.
"What happened to George?" was the first thing out of his mouth, tears pooling in his eyes as he tried to blink them away. His fists were bunched in his shirt, twisting the hem over and over again in agitation. "Miss Wilkes?"
"Oh, Harry. I told you to wait in your room," she sighed, feeling completely drained and unprepared to explain the situation. Harry heard the disappointment in her tone and shivered, his eyes widening even further.
Surprisingly, it wasn't Morgana that cobbled an answer together for him, but Severus. In one swift motion, he reached down and swept the boy up in his arms, marveling at the fact that he was still small enough to do that. Once they were eye to eye, Severus caught Harry's gaze and held it tightly. Harry wasn't sure what was happening, but found that he couldn't tug his eyes away. When Severus was satisfied, he set Harry back on his feet but kept a heavy hand on the boy's shoulder.
"You need to tell him what's going on. He will only try to find out on his own if you don't." The way he said it reminded Morgana of all the potions classes she had sat through over the years; it was commanding and insistent, almost daring her to deviate from his words.
"I can't. You know I can't. He doesn't have the protection. If I told him and anyone used legilimency on him, they would know. We can't risk that." Her eyes were wild and frightened; she wanted to tell Harry, but she couldn't risk it.
"Then… then teach me," Harry pleaded, swiveling his gaze between Morgana and Severus. "Please, I want to know what's going on. What happened to George?"
Morgana hesitated; she had no clue what to do, so she turned her desperate look to Severus. He shrugged, but his hand never left Harry's shoulder, squeezing it tightly.
"Would you be willing…?" she asked timidly, trailing off as she met Severus's eyes. She knew all about their lessons together during fifth year, and how antagonistic they had been toward each other as student and teacher. Maybe if they started at a younger age, with less history between them…? Severus let his gaze drop to the top of Harry's head, studying the too fine hairs he found there, the too pale face that turned to look at him upside down, the too green eyes that stared into his own. He closed his eyes in resignation and nodded. He could never say no to those eyes.
"If he is willing to listen to me as my student, then I am willing to teach him." He gave Harry a stern look, but it seemed to roll right off of the boy as he beamed up at his professor. The smile slowly faded away though.
"But, George? And I heard something about the Headmaster?" His worried face had returned, and Morgana sighed.
"They're fine, I promise. What you heard, it wasn't accurate. Once you learn how to shield your mind, I'll tell you what you need to know. Until then, you'll just have to trust my reassurances that they're alive and well."
Though Harry looked a bit disgruntled, he nodded all the same. Taking pity on the boy, Morgana stepped forward and wrapped her hand around Harry's free shoulder. "I promise. Everyone's alright. I won't lie to you. Not about something this important." Looking slightly more appeased, Harry ducked his head and nodded, a tiny smile on his face. Morgana took that as a success and sighed, tightening her hold ever so slightly.
Dumbledore wasn't quite sure what to do with this new wrench thrown into his plans. He wasn't proud to admit that he did not have a contingency plan for this sort of thing; though, really, could he really have been expected to suspect this? He sat at his desk in his office, debating his options. The girl left him with very few, really. Severus still wasn't answering his summons, and he had no clue what the girl had been up to in all this time.
With a sigh, he turned to Fawkes, who stared back at him with beady eyes that seemed to hold just a bit of recrimination in them. Dumbledore decided to ignore it and instead sent the phoenix off with a message for the other Order members. If they wouldn't cooperate with him, he would have to take matters into his own hands.
The firewhiskey flew easily, that night. Harry had collapsed early in the evening, the adrenaline and excitement of the day leaving him exhausted. Truthfully, Morgana and Severus weren't too far behind. They moved sluggishly when they deigned to move at all.
The sofa seemed to be their most beloved friend by the time the moon was high in the sky. The fire was crackling before them, their drinks sloshing in their cups, and Morgana was curled up next to Severus.
"We won," she repeated to herself, still marveling at the fact that the war, at least where she came from, was finished, over with, done. All that death, all that sacrifice and fear and pain, and it was finally done. She almost couldn't believe it, and she had only been fighting it for about six years. Her glassy eyes landed on Severus and she wondered how he was feeling; he had been fighting for much longer than her, had been a double agent, and had had to deal with Voldemort for so many years. And it wasn't even all behind him; he still had to pretend in the here and now, because their war was not finished, not even close. Perhaps with her knowledge of the future, she could save him just a bit of suffering, save the others who would be hurt, would die.
It was a tall order, and she wasn't quite sure she was up to fulfilling it. She was no hero. She had been called the brightest witch of her age, but what had that brightness ever gotten her? Ridicule and hatred, as well as distrust and disgust. It didn't even help her in school, because the teachers and other students despised her and all the purebloods cared for was the muddiness of her blood.
Could she change any of that? Could she change anything at all? Yes, she had already started changing things, but they were small things; were they enough to tip the balance so early in the game?
She really hoped so.
Severus must have felt the weight of her gaze because he turned from staring at the fire to gaze back at her. The light from the fire flickered across his face and both highlighted and hid the emotions fighting for position there. He seemed relieved, yet dismayed; excited, yet frightened; content, yet exhausted.
"What are you thinking?" she asked, wishing desperately that she could see into his mind for just a moment. Maybe he would make more sense to her if she could.
"That the war is over, but not for us. That we lost people, but that we have also not lost people. It's all very confusing." He reached up for his collar and popped the top buttons, reaching a hand in to rub at his throat, almost as if it pained him. He seemed confused by his own movements, but must have chalked it up to the liquor pulsing through his veins.
"Yes, it is very confusing. I'm relieved that they won. But that just means that we have to focus on our own problems, now. We have so much to do…," she whispered, wincing as all of their problems filled her thoughts. Everything they needed to do, everything they needed to set into place, all the things she wasn't quite sure what to do about. It was all too much.
"We will always have much to do." He knocked back the rest of his drink in one go, then turned to her with bleary, unfocused eyes. His eyes studied her, starting with her glamoured black hair, her too pale skin, her rail thin body. He drew his eyes back to hers and pursed his lips. "We should retire. We have many things to do now, don't we?"
Morgana was a bit shocked at his blatant once over, but blamed it on the alcohol. Besides, he had just had to listen to himself preparing to die earlier in the day. That would kill anyone's mood.
"I agree. Until tomorrow, Severus." She smiled, and decided to use her slightly tipsy state to her advantage. Without stopping her forward momentum, she hopped up to her tiptoes and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, then kept going past his frozen form as if nothing had happened. When she reached the stairs, she heard something fall on the floor and Severus swearing up a storm, sounding flustered and shocked. She smirked to herself victoriously and continued on up to her room. If she couldn't have a little fun sometimes, then what was the point?
