Note: Final part of today's update. I was challenged by a friend to get the German phrase ‚Moment des Zwischenseins' into C&I somewhere. I'm afraid I got a bit carried away.
Note2: This chapter takes place, in part, in Kiel where I currently live. Should any of my readers happen to find themselves lost in Kiel, I can give you the complete C&I tour of the city. I can show you Finn and Mareike's respective childhood homes, I can show you where Finn proposed, you name it. I have spent far too much time thinking up a back story for this couple.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Moment des Zwischenseins
"Glühwein und heißer Butterbier!"
„Lebkuchen! Freshly baked Lebkuchen!"
Mareike Rowle wandered listlessly around the Wizard's Christmas Market of her birth town, unable to truly concentrate on her surroundings when her mind was miles away, in a different country with her husband. She had only come along this evening after her little sister had pleaded, her pouting face in the flames of the Floo connection proving too beguiling for Mareike to say no. She shook her head sadly; Susie had always been able to wrap her doting older sister around her little finger with a well-placed wobbling lip and a few choice words.
"But it's our tradition!" she had whined earlier. "Every year we go to the first evening of the Weihnachtsmarkt and eat gingerbread. We can't not go just because there's a war on! Besides, Papa's out tonight and I'm bored!"
It was one of the most ridiculous-sounding arguments that Mareike had ever heard, but as usual, Susie was right. Why should she let fear win out? Why shouldn't she enjoy the Christmas Market like she had done every year for as long as she could remember? A few minutes of Susie's wheedling later and, possibly against her better judgement, Mareike found herself hurtling through the international Floo network and into her sister's ecstatic arms. For a few hours, it had been as if she had never been away, as if she had never left Germany. The two sisters had laughed and talked non-stop, and no-one who heard them would have guessed that they were twenty-two and fifteen years of age respectively. But when the talk had, as it inevitably would, turned to Mareike's baby, she had found her happy mood slowly ebbing away as she was reminded of the ever more dangerous world that she had found herself in. Although it was true that the Dark Lord's influence had mostly poisoned Britain, the mood of fear and wariness was slowly spreading throughout Europe like a rash. The Christmas Market had never been so small or so dark; the black mood seemed to encompass the usually warm and cheerful wooden cabins completely. The footsteps in the snow were telling enough. People walked in straight lines to their destinations, working methodically from one stall to the next, buying their wares and moving on. They did not linger leisurely and take part in the old traditions of bargaining and talking with the stallholders. She had noticed that even she and Susie were doing it, however unconsciously, walking down the centre of the street and casting only cursory looks at the stalls on either side of them. Presently Susie fed her a piece of iced gingerbread that she had been picking to pieces and throwing to the birds without any intention of eating. The cake was hard and bland, not enough spice for Mareike's taste.
"Naja, I can do better," she muttered. Susie, whose rambling patter had since fallen into silence, smiled weakly and threw the last of the gingerbread to a nearby seagull, narrowly avoiding concussing the bird with it.
"Mari," she said suddenly, "I'm scared." She paused. "For you, I mean. Tell me you're safe, Mari. Tell me you aren't scared."
Mareike wished that she could. She wished that she could reassure the little sister who was still a child in her eyes. But she could not. She wasn't safe, she had not been safe since the moment that the Dark Lord had first set eyes on her, and she knew that her pregnancy had done nothing to make her any more secure. To the Dark Lord and his most bloodthirsty followers, nothing was sacred, not even an unborn child. But, in that precise moment, Mareike could not say that she was scared. She felt frustrated, uneasy, yes, but fear, despite its being all around her, did not enter her thoughts. The best way in which Mareike could describe her feelings was heavy. It was as if she was standing still, weighted to the ground both physically and mentally by the being growing inside her. Meanwhile, everything was moving around her in a panicked fear. She was a passive observer, unable to affect the fear in the world around her and unaffected by it herself. This, reflected Mareike, was her Moment des Zwischenseins. Her mother had always told her that she would have one at one point in her life. A moment of being in between, a moment of between-being… It didn't translate into English very well, as Mareike had found out when she had tried to explain the concept to an increasingly confused Camilla. A moment in which she was detached, free, numb. A once in a lifetime experience, never to be repeated.
"I'm not scared," she told Susie firmly. "I'm in between."
Susie looked at her with an expression that conveyed plainly that she was of the opinion that her sister had gone completely mad, but then she broke off into a smile.
"Moment des Zwischenseins," she murmured, and they walked on through the market in silence for a while, each sister lost in her own thoughts, illuminated by the soft and twinkling lights that hovered overhead. They were so much prettier than the muggles' crass electric equivalent, but they were no more effective at banishing the shadows that almost seemed to be alive. Mareike tried to shake off the feeling of being watched. It was one that had been pursuing her for the past few months with a dogged persistence, and she was sure that her paranoia was reaching ridiculous lengths.
"Do you think I'll find mine?" asked Susie. "It always seems like such an impossible notion."
"I'm sure you will," said Mareike drily. "When you're nearly six months pregnant in the middle of a war and married to a man who's unwillingly fighting for the wrong side."
"Yes…" Susie paused. "When you put it like that it doesn't sound quite as appealing."
The two young women collapsed into giggles again and the momentary unease came to an end as Susie launched into a rather expressive account of a tale from school and ended up showering a passerby with punch thanks to her over-exuberant arm gestures. Once the scalded wizard had been pacified (Susie was all for pushing him into a nearby snowdrift to cool him off), the dead of night had well and truly fallen, the stalls closing their shutters and packing up their wares ready for the next day's trading. Mareike's feet were beginning to ache and she found herself longing for her comfortable footstool by the fire in Camilla's little sitting room. Susie seemed to sense her sister's change of demeanour, and steered them in the direction of home and the way back to England. The older witch wondered, as Susie fumbled with her keys, whether she would ever find where she truly belonged. For her, Germany had always been her home. There had never been any question. She had always viewed her move across the channel as something wholly temporary, and that as-yet-unset date in the future when she would return to Germany was the thing that kept her holding on throughout the most difficult times. But now… Mareike's gloved hand went to her stomach unconsciously. Now there was the baby, something that linked her solidly and intrinsically to England. Their child had been conceived there (Mareike blushed to be even thinking about such things in the presence of her impressionable younger sister), and unless something short of a miracle happened, it would be born there too. It was something that couldn't be ignored.
"Thanks for coming," said Susie as they stood by the fireplace. "It would have been a shame to break with tradition and…" She paused, ringing her hands nervously. "It was good to check that you're ok." A devilish grin spread over her face. "I'm going to be the worst auntie ever. I'll spoil your pumpkin rotten."
"You'll do nothing of the sort," said Mareike sternly. "For a start, you hate children."
"Not your children," said Susie, rolling her eyes. "I'll like yours because we can conspire and plot against you together." Her mischievous smile was infectious, and a welcome change from the melancholy demeanour that she had sunk into at the market. It was true that one always felt safer and happier within one's own home, and Mareike wished that she knew where hers was. As lovely and welcoming as both Camilla and her own family were, she craved a place that she could truly call her own in which to make their home. When she had married Finn, she had gone straight from her parents' house to his parents' house; they had not had any time alone to build a home. It needn't cost the Earth nor be particularly grand; just a cosy cottage where they could live in peace and quiet and bring up their baby as far away from the evils of this bleak and uncertain world as possible.
"You should go," said Susie presently, dragging her older sister out of her comfortable daydream. "Get tucked up snugly and make Finn massage your feet."
Although a smile graced Susie's face, Mareike knew that she was just as despondent about their parting as she was.
"I could always stay a few days," she suggested tentatively. Susie shook her head.
"No, I think it's better if you go and keep an eye on Finn. He needs you, Mari."
The depth of insight in this deceptively simple statement astounded Mareike, coming as it did from her usually so happy and carefree sister. It was undeniable.
"Besides," Susie continued. "If, God forbid, something happens, we aren't really in a position to assist, more's the pity. Papa would faint at the thought and I can't do anything remotely useful without sending up a flare to the big cheeses in Berlin saying 'yes! I'm here! I'm only fifteen and I'm doing magic outside school!'"
Mareike laughed as she stepped into the fireplace. Her mother had always been the sensible one of her parents, her father having a tendency to keel over at the merest thought of pain, be it his own or someone else's. He'd spent the entirety of Susie's birth lying on the sofa with a cold flannel on his forehead and a cup of chamomile tea.
Just as she was about to throw the powder into the grate, Susie spoke again.
"Try not to have the baby just yet," she said. "I haven't finished knitting."
"Don't be ridiculous, Susie. You can't knit."
"Exactly! I need time to learn!"
"You've already had five months!"
"I'm a slow learner!"
Mareike raised her eyes to heaven.
"Bye Susie. Give my love to Papa when he gets in. Tschuss."
"Tschuss." Susie blew her a kiss as she disappeared into the swirling green flames, and Mareike was still smiling as she toppled out of the grate into Camilla's sitting room. She cast a spell to clean the soot from her robes and looked around at the place she could not quite call home.
"Did you have a good time?" asked Camilla, looking up from her book and absently chewing the leg of her glasses. Mareike nodded, sitting down heavily in her chair and letting her feet recover.
"It was good to see Susie again," she said. "I miss her."
She was acutely aware of the fact. They had never been soul sisters, but the further apart they were, the more Mareike found that there was a hole somewhere in her middle that Susie's bubbly presence always seemed to fill.
"And the gingerbread?" Camilla ventured, a smile playing on her lips.
"Terrible, as always."
Before Camilla could reply, there was the sound of the front door slamming and frantic footsteps, followed by Finn's voice.
"MARI? MAREIKE?"
He had never sounded so desperately scared in all the time that Mareike had known him.
"I'm in here," she called, and Finn appeared in the sitting room doorway, as white as a sheet. He collapsed onto his knees in front of Mareike's chair.
"You're alright," he breathed, taking her face in his hands as if he wanted to make doubly sure that she was truly there and not a mirage.
"Yes, I'm alright Schatz," Mareike said shakily, his behaviour unnerving her. "Why wouldn't I be?" She gently pulled his hands away from her cheeks and held them tightly in her lap.
"He warned me…"
Mareike's grip on Finn's hands tightened involuntarily. The identity of 'he' needed no further clarification.
"He said you'd be getting an interesting surprise tonight; I thought the worst. Oh Mari, you're alright. You're alright."
"I'm alright Schatz," Mareike soothed. "I'm alright." Despite her calm appearance, however, Mareike's mind was in turmoil. Finn had been threatened, and it wasn't the first time. His master had often warned him that she, Mareike, was a 'dangerous distraction'. This was the first time that the threats had held anything concrete however, and Mareike knew that Finn's master always carried through on his threats. She had not received any surprises tonight, which meant that the worst was still to come. But surely she was safe here now that Finn was home? Mareike's brow furrowed, trying to make sense of it all.
All three occupants of the room started as the fireplace roared into brilliant emerald life and a face appeared in the flames, an unfamiliar face with an undeniable air of authority about it.
"Frau Camilla Rosier?" the man asked in a clipped German accent.
"Yes," said Camilla, her tone clearly expressing her puzzlement. "How can I help you?"
"My name is Heinrich Meier, German Ministry of Magic Auror Office. I was told that Frau Mareike Rowle is resident with you."
Camilla cast a worried glance back towards Mareike, who stood and took a deep breath before approaching the fireplace.
"I'm here," she said.
"Frau Rowle," Meier began, and in that moment, Mareike knew. She knew what the surprise was, and her blood ran cold. "Frau Rowle, I am sorry to have to inform you, but your father and sister…"
"They're dead, aren't they?" Mareike said softly.
Meier was silent for a moment and then nodded slowly.
"We were alerted by the use of underage magic in the area, but unfortunately we arrived too late. The Death Eaters had already left their mark. I am very sorry, Frau Rowle."
Mareike didn't hear him. She didn't hear Camilla deftly step in to take over the formalities. She didn't hear Finn's soft words as he pulled her gently to her feet and guided her back to her chair. She could only feel, a terrible wave of emotion that had been so strangely absent for the past five months. Susie. Her little sister, who only an hour ago had been enthusing over the mischief that she would get up to when she was an aunt. Her entire life had been snuffed out like a candle in a sudden gust. It was a warning, as loud and clear as if Meier had shouted it through the flames. Her family had been killed, and she would be next. It was a warning for Finn. Obey, or your wife joins her sister.
Mareike was only barely aware of the tears streaming uninhibited down her cheeks. She could feel the bitter vitriol rising in her throat like bile, the sheer, uncontrollable hatred that she felt towards the beast who had her and her husband tied like puppets on a string, controlling their lives so tightly and terribly. But she was feeling more than hatred. As Mareike finally gave in to her torment, collapsing against Finn with a howl of pure despair, she knew that her Moment des Zwischenseins was over.
Mareike was terrified.