Christmas might have only been one sleep away, but Harry, Hermione and Ron were hardly excited. The look on Morgan's face when they had come in with Granna was haunting them all.
In the midst of their worrying, in came Professor McGonagall carrying a letter. Wordlessly, she handed it to Harry.
It was from Granna and addressed to the three of them. Harry read it out loud for the other's to hear.
'I understand you three are Morgana's friends. I am getting very worried about her and I would like to ask if you would come and stay over the holidays. She needs the company. I don't like her spending all her time with those muggle children.'
"What's your decision going to be?" Professor McGonagall asked them as soon as he dad finished reading. "I don't have all day, you know."
"I think she needs us." Hermione said.
"Let's go then!" Harry was almost overjoyed to finally be able to something to help her instead of just sitting around worrying.
Professor McGonagall nodded. "Be at the Headmaster's office at eight tonight."
Granna having left that morning, Morgan had slipped back into old habits. Sitting around in that house all day with nothing to do had driven her insane. She decided that she had to so something.
Rummaging around under her bed she found an old, beaten up box. A present from her Great Uncle Ostric, that old fool. It was like a miniature Room of Requirement, giving the holder anything they could think of. Of course, he had never thought she would use it for this.
Holding it tightly, Morgan concentrated on the image in her mind – a bottle of firewhiskey. Then she turned her mind to the drink itself. The way it tasted, smelt and anything else about it she could think of.
After a few moments of this she unlocked the box, taking out the new bottle of booze. Looking at it gravely, she wondered if this was a good idea after all. She knew her mother wouldn't have approved of this. That thought didn't help. Being reminded of her mother washed all Morgan's doubts away. Getting mindless right now was just what she needed.
She broke the seal and took a swig, feeling it burn her throat. It had been a long time since she'd had anything, so it was like that first taste of spirits all over again. The feeling of your throat on fire, the urge to cough and spit it out. Then the blessed warmth as it reaches your stomach.
By the time eight o'clock rolled around, Morgan blissfully ignorant of her troubles. Hearing the doorbell, she stumbled down the hallway to greet her visitors. Pleased with herself that it only took two tries to get the door open, Morgan waved at her new guests, still trying to bring them properly into focus.
Getting her vision in line, she saw who it was. "Hey guys!" she exclaimed, happily fling her arms around Ron and giving him a noogie. "Come in." She led them into the lounge and plopped down on the couch.
Hermione gave her a long, hard look. "What have you had to eat today?"
Morgan shrugged. "Nothing much. I've kind of been on a liquid diet." She giggled and shook the bottle she was holding. "I made a funny."
Hermione very nearly failed to contain her feeling about this, but just moved off to the kitchen to find something to get into Morgan's system that wasn't alcoholic. Her hopes were dashed. There was hardly any food in the cupboards. She stuck her head around the door. "Do you have any food here?"
Morgan's face contorted as she tried to line up more than one brain cell that wasn't alcohol fuddled. "Um, there's some pies in the fridge, you could nuke one of those."
"Nuke? What's that mean?" As usual, Ron was utterly perplexed with anything to do with muggles.
The answer was accompanied by much bottle sloshing. "Microwave. It's a muggle way of cooking real fast." She realized that due to her exuberant gesturing, there was now an errant trickle of booze running down her arm. Not wanting to be wasteful, she licked it off.
"Uh Morgan?" Harry seemed wary. "What exactly is that stuff?"
"Firewhiskey! Yay!" Just then the microwave finished its job and announced it with a noise. Morgan laughed at it. "That's the machine that goes 'ping'! That means your baby is still alive!"
Ron turned incredulously to Hermione. "Hermione! You're having a baby!"
Hermione sighed wearily. "No Ron, it's a muggle joke that I am not going to explain to you." Ron went to try and weasel an explanation out of her, but got cut off by the doorbell ringing.
"Ooh!" squealed Morgan. "More visitors."
"Don't get it, we don't know who it-" Harry began, but he was too late. Morgan had already flung the door wide. But it was okay, as she seemed to know whoever it was as she hugged both of them.
"Introductions!" Morgan said. "Tremain and Drefinia, these fine people are Harry, Hermione and Ron." There was a round of hi's from all of them.
Tremain eyed Morgan's bottle suspiciously. "What's that?"
"What's what?" she said, trying to hide it behind her back, but she was too slow and he took it off her and sniffed it.
"How much have you had?" he asked wearily.
"Not much, just this one." She pouted. "And I don't see why it's any of your business." He pinched the bridge of his nose wearily, shaking his head and sighing.
Drefinia took over the questioning. "It's our business because we're worried about you. Now have you had anything to eat?"
"She will have in a minute." Hermione said, placing the pie down in front of her.
"Good thinking." Drefinia said. "Nice to see someone who can keep their head when there's trouble."
"Unless Devil's Snare is involved." Ron muttered.
"What?" The twins looked at him quizzically.
"Oh, nothing." He said, laughing nervously.
"Riiight." Tremain gave Ron a lengthy stare. "Anyway, once you've finished that, I think you need to get to bed and sleep this off."
"But- but…" Morgan stuttered. She looked into Tremain's face. She could tell there was no way she could win this. "Fine. You win." She conceded. But not before she added, "spoilsport," under her breath.
Once her pie had been duly consumed, Tremain sheparded her off to bed. Coming back in, he sat down heavily on the couch. Nobody said anything for a long time. After a while, a sound wavering on the edge of hearing started coming from Morgan's room. The sound of someone trying to cry without making any noise.
Drefinia went to get up, but Tremain put a hand on her shoulder and sat her back down. "I'll go see her." He said quietly. "She's probably just had a nightmare again."
To occupy themselves, Hermione tried a little small talk. "So," she asked Drefinia, "how long have those two been going out?"
"What? They're not going out. Tremain does love her though, even if he won't admit it. They've just been friends for so long, he doesn't want to risk it by making a move. My brother always has been a bit of a coward."
"Your brother?" Harry asked as Tremain came back into the room and sat back down wearily.
She nodded. "Yep. We're twins. I'm the older one."
"Only by about a minute." Tremain said, his eyes closed.
"It still counts!"
"Whatever you say sis. Whatever you say."
A/N: Morgan's a bad girl succumming to the temptations af alcohol, satan's eye drops. You know, anything can be satan's something. R R!
