Disclaimer: JK Rowling created this world, I'm just fiddling with it.
Author's Note: Draco, Harry, Draco, Harry? I __still__ don't know. Prophecy- ness points to Harry. Everything else points to Draco. GAH!
Extra Notes: this story is coming along very, very slowly. I know, and I am trying to do it a bit faster, but I've got so many stories to work on at once, because if I don't write them down they go round and round in my head and I can't concentrate properly unless I get them all down. So I'm writing half a dozen stories at a time, which is hard! Check out 'Wishful Thinking' (by me), it's a 'what if…' story using my characters and a few of JK Rowling's. Basically, it's 'What if Morganna and Severus never spoke again after the 'I love you' 'I'm engaged' conversation, only that conversation took place after a little midnight 'extra curricular activity' that resulted in a baby? (There is no, I repeat, no smut in my story) And what if Lily Potter had never died, but James had saved both her and Harry, and she was in protective custody (in France) while Harry was with the Dursleys?' The 'I love you' 'I'm engaged' conversation is from my story 'Once Upon A Time'.
Extra-extra notes: I'm going to have a better look at Narcissa Malfoy in this chapter. I feel I have neglected an important part of the tale by ignoring Narcissa's part in it. Oh, and I'm giving her a sister, Constance Perrier. Nice name, don't you think?
~*~
Chapter Eight: Obscurity
~*~
Morag sat alone in her room. It was dark, but a single moonbeam shone through her window to shine on her silvery hair. She felt oddly calm, tranquil.
She saw something flickering in the mirror, it looked as though there was something – someone – behind her on the bed.
"Who's there?"
There was a ghostly chuckle, a soft laugh.
"My name is Gloria."
~*~
Draco lay in his bed, trying to sleep. It was late at night; he listened for the usual nightly noises. But the Montaque Mansion was silent. No screams tore the night as his father tortured the house elves for amusement. No choked tears as his mother sobbed into her pillow. Just…silence.
It was bloody unnerving, and he found, to his dismay, he couldn't sleep.
This was what he had always wanted, peace. And it was keeping him awake. Damn.
~*~
Harry was fast asleep, a dreamless sleep that he had achieved with a little help from a draught of a potion Madam Pomfrey had given him.
Morganna stood in the doorway (okay, leaned on it for support), and prayed that somehow, Lily was watching over her son. That she could see what a grand young man he had grown into. Lily would be proud of him Morganna thought to herself.
She slipped quietly out as he slept, blissfully unaware.
~*~
Hermione, Ginny and Este were in Ginny's room. Este had been pulled into their little circle, and they were gossiping, (well, Ginny was gossiping at them) and sharing a midnight snack.
~*~
Fred and George were exploring the mansion, it was a pretty impressive piece of work.
~*~
Ron was listening at the door as Ginny convinced Hermione and Este to play Truth or Dare.
"Shouldn't we get Morag to come play too?" that was Este, the slightly unfamiliar voice.
"Maybe next time. She seems to me like she needs some time to herself." Ginny. Ron felt proud of his little sister – so very insightful.
"Ginny's right. Besides, why are we playing this again?" Hermione sounded uncomfortable. Ron settled down to listen.
~*~
"Gloria? She's…"
Morag trailed off.
"Dead?" Gloria supplied. "Yes, I am. I'm also a ghost. It's sort of interesting to appear to people from time to time. You must be Anna's daughter Morag. I was hoping she'd name you Angelica, it's such a pretty name. But as far as I can gather, O'Connell's one request in regard to you was that you be named after his mother, Morag O'Connell. So here you are."
"I'm named after my grandmother?" Morag queried. "How odd."
"You've been reading my diary, Morag Lillith." Gloria floated around to stand before her. She could easily see the family resemblance – Gloria looked so much like Morag's own mother. Taller, though. Her hair seemed to be toyed with by a non-existent breeze, she seemed ethereal. Not like the Hogwarts ghosts, who seemed just floating people who happened to be transparent, Gloria was what Morag had always imagined a ghost should look like. She wore a light nightdress, milky white, and the only color in her was her brilliant blue eyes.
"So I have, Gloria-Anne." She replied calmly. She recalled Rene had mentioned Gloria's habit of using one's first and second names.
"That's a breach of privacy, Mora-Lilli." Gloria slipped into her odd habits, creating odd little nicknames for people. For example, Morganna she had always thought of as 'Anna-Maria', Lucia had been 'Luci-Jacqui', and Lacrimosa had been 'Lacci-Cassie'. Lucia Jacqueline Montaque and Lacrimosa Cassandra Montaque-Perrault.
"You're dead, Aunt Glori-Anne." Morag pointed out.
"You are the observant one, aren't you?" Gloria laughed. "May I keep you company? Babette ran away from me, you see. She saw me once and then she just wouldn't go anywhere near my floor. None of the maids will either. I'm so lonely up there. I'm not really supposed to come down here – Rene doesn't like frightened maids – but I felt I had to meet you in person. And Anna-Maria, I had to check on my baby sister."
"I'd like to see your room, Aunt Glori-Anne." Morag admitted. "But Mother said I must have respect for the dead and won't tell me where it is."
"I can do better than tell you. I can show you. And do just call me Glori- Anne, I feel so very old when you call me 'Aunt'. I know, I've been a ghost for thirty-one years, and which means if I was alive today I'd be forty- seven, but I count by how old I was when I died, so I'm sixteen." Gloria beamed at her niece, and then began to float towards the door. "Come along, Mora-Lilli, have I got things to show you!"
~*~
"Where have you been?"
Damn. I thought he was asleep Morganna thought, and sighed. "I was checking on the children."
Severus frowned at her. "You should have been in bed. You're not supposed to be wandering around the place."
"It's not like I was running about." Morganna retorted, climbing back under the covers.
"Don't do that again, please, Morganna?" Severus put his arms around her gently. "You worried me."
"Oh all right." She gave in quickly, too tired to argue further.
Severus went to say more, but her regular breathing gave away the fact that she'd fallen asleep. He arranged her more comfortably and then settled down to sleep himself.
~*~
Narcissa Malfoy sat at her dressing table. Morganna had kindly allowed her and her son to remain here for as long as they needed to – Narcissa didn't want to go back to Malfoy Manor, and it was really the only place she had.
It's foolish she thought, but a part of me misses Lucius. I suppose I loved him once, but I rather think I only loved the fiction I created around him
Narcissa ran a comb through her pale blonde hair* and tried to think of what she was going to do next. As Lucius's wife, she inherited Malfoy Manor.
She didn't want it.
She got his money.
She didn't want it.
She got his 'personal effects'.
She certainly didn't want those.
She had a sinking feeling that without his money, his house, she'd have nothing. Her own parents had died a few years ago, and left everything to her older sister, Constance. Constance Perrier, the one who had divorced her husband – a Death Eater – and gone back to her old life. The one who had had the guts to stand up to her husband and prove herself worthy of the respect she had always commanded.
Narcissa wished she were more like Constance. Brave, bold, fearless. A tower of strength in her own right, Constance had never let anyone push her down. Narcissa felt grateful to Morganna – who had never liked or trusted Lucius – for letting her and Draco remain here. After all the pain Lucius had caused, Narcissa counted her blessings that anyone was willing to talk to her.
Morag held no grudges against her. It stunned Narcissa that this girl could be caused so much pain by Lucius, and then greet his wife with such friendliness and no forgiveness – for in Morag's eyes there was nothing for her to forgive. Narcissa had done nothing.
And that was what pained her.
She had done nothing. She knew what Lucius was doing was wrong and she never even protested.
Constance would have protested.
Morganna would have protested.
But not Narcissa. Narcissa had stayed quiet, Narcissa had been silent, and Narcissa had never even considered protesting.
She knew it was wrong, and it never occurred to her that she might do something.
'You'd never have succeeded.' A little voice in her head whispered.
But I could have tried! She cried out silently.
'What could you have done? He would have not thought twice before killing you.' The voice persisted.
I am as guilty as my husband. I saw the wrongdoing and I did nothing.
'There was nothing you could have done.'
I should have tried.
~*~
*I may have gotten the color wrong. I personally have always pictured Narcissa Malfoy as a brunette, but then thought that the senior Malfoy would probably have been partial to blondes, and have recalled that it might in at least one place say she's got blonde hair. So, if I'm wrong, let me know, but I don't think I am.
~*~
Author's Notes:
If you're bothering to read this, please review. It is so demoralizing to look at a story and find only the reviews that were there before – which are all from the same person, anyway.
No, Narcissa's not going to be a main character. I just wanted to have a look inside her head and see what makes her tick.
Draco is an imbecile. A very adorable imbecile, but an imbecile none the less.
If you don't understand the title of this chapter, that's all well and good, because I'm not going to bother explaining it. If you think you understand the title, do let me know, I'd like to see other people's ideas about my own [ideas].
This is the probably the fourth chapter set at nighttime. I don't know what it is with the dark and I but the Snape's story seems best set against the night. So much going on in this family (and the surrounding sub-plots of other people's unhappiness) seems somewhat dark, so I suppose it makes sense to give them a closer look at night.
Author's Note: Draco, Harry, Draco, Harry? I __still__ don't know. Prophecy- ness points to Harry. Everything else points to Draco. GAH!
Extra Notes: this story is coming along very, very slowly. I know, and I am trying to do it a bit faster, but I've got so many stories to work on at once, because if I don't write them down they go round and round in my head and I can't concentrate properly unless I get them all down. So I'm writing half a dozen stories at a time, which is hard! Check out 'Wishful Thinking' (by me), it's a 'what if…' story using my characters and a few of JK Rowling's. Basically, it's 'What if Morganna and Severus never spoke again after the 'I love you' 'I'm engaged' conversation, only that conversation took place after a little midnight 'extra curricular activity' that resulted in a baby? (There is no, I repeat, no smut in my story) And what if Lily Potter had never died, but James had saved both her and Harry, and she was in protective custody (in France) while Harry was with the Dursleys?' The 'I love you' 'I'm engaged' conversation is from my story 'Once Upon A Time'.
Extra-extra notes: I'm going to have a better look at Narcissa Malfoy in this chapter. I feel I have neglected an important part of the tale by ignoring Narcissa's part in it. Oh, and I'm giving her a sister, Constance Perrier. Nice name, don't you think?
~*~
Chapter Eight: Obscurity
~*~
Morag sat alone in her room. It was dark, but a single moonbeam shone through her window to shine on her silvery hair. She felt oddly calm, tranquil.
She saw something flickering in the mirror, it looked as though there was something – someone – behind her on the bed.
"Who's there?"
There was a ghostly chuckle, a soft laugh.
"My name is Gloria."
~*~
Draco lay in his bed, trying to sleep. It was late at night; he listened for the usual nightly noises. But the Montaque Mansion was silent. No screams tore the night as his father tortured the house elves for amusement. No choked tears as his mother sobbed into her pillow. Just…silence.
It was bloody unnerving, and he found, to his dismay, he couldn't sleep.
This was what he had always wanted, peace. And it was keeping him awake. Damn.
~*~
Harry was fast asleep, a dreamless sleep that he had achieved with a little help from a draught of a potion Madam Pomfrey had given him.
Morganna stood in the doorway (okay, leaned on it for support), and prayed that somehow, Lily was watching over her son. That she could see what a grand young man he had grown into. Lily would be proud of him Morganna thought to herself.
She slipped quietly out as he slept, blissfully unaware.
~*~
Hermione, Ginny and Este were in Ginny's room. Este had been pulled into their little circle, and they were gossiping, (well, Ginny was gossiping at them) and sharing a midnight snack.
~*~
Fred and George were exploring the mansion, it was a pretty impressive piece of work.
~*~
Ron was listening at the door as Ginny convinced Hermione and Este to play Truth or Dare.
"Shouldn't we get Morag to come play too?" that was Este, the slightly unfamiliar voice.
"Maybe next time. She seems to me like she needs some time to herself." Ginny. Ron felt proud of his little sister – so very insightful.
"Ginny's right. Besides, why are we playing this again?" Hermione sounded uncomfortable. Ron settled down to listen.
~*~
"Gloria? She's…"
Morag trailed off.
"Dead?" Gloria supplied. "Yes, I am. I'm also a ghost. It's sort of interesting to appear to people from time to time. You must be Anna's daughter Morag. I was hoping she'd name you Angelica, it's such a pretty name. But as far as I can gather, O'Connell's one request in regard to you was that you be named after his mother, Morag O'Connell. So here you are."
"I'm named after my grandmother?" Morag queried. "How odd."
"You've been reading my diary, Morag Lillith." Gloria floated around to stand before her. She could easily see the family resemblance – Gloria looked so much like Morag's own mother. Taller, though. Her hair seemed to be toyed with by a non-existent breeze, she seemed ethereal. Not like the Hogwarts ghosts, who seemed just floating people who happened to be transparent, Gloria was what Morag had always imagined a ghost should look like. She wore a light nightdress, milky white, and the only color in her was her brilliant blue eyes.
"So I have, Gloria-Anne." She replied calmly. She recalled Rene had mentioned Gloria's habit of using one's first and second names.
"That's a breach of privacy, Mora-Lilli." Gloria slipped into her odd habits, creating odd little nicknames for people. For example, Morganna she had always thought of as 'Anna-Maria', Lucia had been 'Luci-Jacqui', and Lacrimosa had been 'Lacci-Cassie'. Lucia Jacqueline Montaque and Lacrimosa Cassandra Montaque-Perrault.
"You're dead, Aunt Glori-Anne." Morag pointed out.
"You are the observant one, aren't you?" Gloria laughed. "May I keep you company? Babette ran away from me, you see. She saw me once and then she just wouldn't go anywhere near my floor. None of the maids will either. I'm so lonely up there. I'm not really supposed to come down here – Rene doesn't like frightened maids – but I felt I had to meet you in person. And Anna-Maria, I had to check on my baby sister."
"I'd like to see your room, Aunt Glori-Anne." Morag admitted. "But Mother said I must have respect for the dead and won't tell me where it is."
"I can do better than tell you. I can show you. And do just call me Glori- Anne, I feel so very old when you call me 'Aunt'. I know, I've been a ghost for thirty-one years, and which means if I was alive today I'd be forty- seven, but I count by how old I was when I died, so I'm sixteen." Gloria beamed at her niece, and then began to float towards the door. "Come along, Mora-Lilli, have I got things to show you!"
~*~
"Where have you been?"
Damn. I thought he was asleep Morganna thought, and sighed. "I was checking on the children."
Severus frowned at her. "You should have been in bed. You're not supposed to be wandering around the place."
"It's not like I was running about." Morganna retorted, climbing back under the covers.
"Don't do that again, please, Morganna?" Severus put his arms around her gently. "You worried me."
"Oh all right." She gave in quickly, too tired to argue further.
Severus went to say more, but her regular breathing gave away the fact that she'd fallen asleep. He arranged her more comfortably and then settled down to sleep himself.
~*~
Narcissa Malfoy sat at her dressing table. Morganna had kindly allowed her and her son to remain here for as long as they needed to – Narcissa didn't want to go back to Malfoy Manor, and it was really the only place she had.
It's foolish she thought, but a part of me misses Lucius. I suppose I loved him once, but I rather think I only loved the fiction I created around him
Narcissa ran a comb through her pale blonde hair* and tried to think of what she was going to do next. As Lucius's wife, she inherited Malfoy Manor.
She didn't want it.
She got his money.
She didn't want it.
She got his 'personal effects'.
She certainly didn't want those.
She had a sinking feeling that without his money, his house, she'd have nothing. Her own parents had died a few years ago, and left everything to her older sister, Constance. Constance Perrier, the one who had divorced her husband – a Death Eater – and gone back to her old life. The one who had had the guts to stand up to her husband and prove herself worthy of the respect she had always commanded.
Narcissa wished she were more like Constance. Brave, bold, fearless. A tower of strength in her own right, Constance had never let anyone push her down. Narcissa felt grateful to Morganna – who had never liked or trusted Lucius – for letting her and Draco remain here. After all the pain Lucius had caused, Narcissa counted her blessings that anyone was willing to talk to her.
Morag held no grudges against her. It stunned Narcissa that this girl could be caused so much pain by Lucius, and then greet his wife with such friendliness and no forgiveness – for in Morag's eyes there was nothing for her to forgive. Narcissa had done nothing.
And that was what pained her.
She had done nothing. She knew what Lucius was doing was wrong and she never even protested.
Constance would have protested.
Morganna would have protested.
But not Narcissa. Narcissa had stayed quiet, Narcissa had been silent, and Narcissa had never even considered protesting.
She knew it was wrong, and it never occurred to her that she might do something.
'You'd never have succeeded.' A little voice in her head whispered.
But I could have tried! She cried out silently.
'What could you have done? He would have not thought twice before killing you.' The voice persisted.
I am as guilty as my husband. I saw the wrongdoing and I did nothing.
'There was nothing you could have done.'
I should have tried.
~*~
*I may have gotten the color wrong. I personally have always pictured Narcissa Malfoy as a brunette, but then thought that the senior Malfoy would probably have been partial to blondes, and have recalled that it might in at least one place say she's got blonde hair. So, if I'm wrong, let me know, but I don't think I am.
~*~
Author's Notes:
If you're bothering to read this, please review. It is so demoralizing to look at a story and find only the reviews that were there before – which are all from the same person, anyway.
No, Narcissa's not going to be a main character. I just wanted to have a look inside her head and see what makes her tick.
Draco is an imbecile. A very adorable imbecile, but an imbecile none the less.
If you don't understand the title of this chapter, that's all well and good, because I'm not going to bother explaining it. If you think you understand the title, do let me know, I'd like to see other people's ideas about my own [ideas].
This is the probably the fourth chapter set at nighttime. I don't know what it is with the dark and I but the Snape's story seems best set against the night. So much going on in this family (and the surrounding sub-plots of other people's unhappiness) seems somewhat dark, so I suppose it makes sense to give them a closer look at night.
