Author's notes: Firstly, thank you to Isengard for my one and only review, I really appreciate it. I've noticed that I'm getting fair amount of hits for each chapter, and a few people have even added this fic to their story alerts. However, I still haven't got more than one review. So, if you're reading this, please leave me some feedback. Otherwise, how do I know if I'm doing a good job or not. Thanks

Additional thanks to IMissPadfoot (user ID: 1133633) who is doing a wonderful job beta'ing for me, and spotting my iffy characterization. You're a real star!

Chapter Three: A Shoulder to Cry on?

Morrigan returned late that afternoon to the Leaky Cauldron. She was tired, hungry, and feeling downhearted after visiting her Grandmother. Something about their conversation, Mary having a turn and then Sean's accusation, had left a tense bubble building in her stomach.

In addition, the revelation she'd read in the Daily Prophet, that Draco Malfoy was assumed lost and his family were desperately looking for him, sat uneasily with Morrigan. She'd drank with him just a few nights before, and wondered if she should say anything to anyone about it.

Remembering the incident, when Morrigan had pretended his room at the Leaky Cauldron was in fact hers, she decided to see if Draco showed up in the pub again that night. If he did, she'd try to talk to him about what she'd read in the newspaper, and if not, she'd contact the Daily Prophet the next day.

Entering the wizarding pub, Morrigan found it pretty much empty, apart from Tom, and a few drunken customers. Seating herself besides the bar, she ordered a pumpkin juice and some beef broth for her dinner.

After a filling meal, as Tom cleared away her things, Morrigan ordered her first fire whiskey of the night. She knew that starting to drink at seven o'clock in the evening wasn't really a good idea, but after the day she'd had, she needed it.

Stretching her legs out before her, Morrigan took a deep swig of the amber liquid, relishing the heat of the alcohol as it hit the back of her throat. Despite the cold weather of England, and having to stay at a pub, she thought she could get used to nights like this.

It was wonderful to Morrigan to be away from her family – who were either camped out at St. Mungo's or stopping at Mary's house in Northern Ireland. The raven-haired woman had no intention of entering her grandmother's house again, especially not with Mary being so sick, and took any chance to be away from her siblings.

Sean, Morrigan and Felicia had never been close. And while people assumed the sisters were distant because of their difference in age, they didn't know the real reason for the rift between the three siblings, and Morrigan wasn't about to enlighten anyone to it.

Purchasing a second drink, as the ice had began to melt in the first and water down the fire whiskey, Morrigan idly scratched the paint work on the bar.

The day had been nothing but strange, and Morrigan wished for a distraction from her thoughts. As if answering her unspoken request, a hooded figure entered the pub and made his way to the bar.

After ordering a drink, the figure sighted Morrigan and lowered his hood.

As she was expecting, a shock of white blonde hair and cold grey eyes were revealed, as Draco took the stool besides her.

Tom placed the glass of fire whiskey in front of its purchaser, and then Draco turned to Morrigan.

"You're still here, then?" he asked, with a faint sneer, "Considering taking me up on my offer?"

Morrigan rolled her eyes, and took a long sip of her own drink.

"But won't mummy and daddy be looking for you?" she asked eventually, a sly grin playing on her lips.

Morrigan knew it was cruel to mention Draco's family, especially as she knew nothing about him or the situation. However, after his taunt about her spending the night with him, she felt she owed him.

"What did you say about my parents?" demanded Draco, looking somewhere between horrified and alarmed.

"I'm sorry," Morrigan said hastily, knowing from the troubled look in his grey eyes, that mentioning Draco's parents had been a huge mistake. "It's just that I read in the Daily Prophet recently that they're looking for you."

"My parents were in the Daily Prophet, and saying they were looking for me?" Draco asked in disbelief. "They actually mentioned my name?"

"Well, yeah. They seemed pretty concerned too," informed Morrigan. "The article said something about your father being acquitted of all charges by the Ministry of Magic, and then reported that you were missing and that you're parents are anxious for knowledge of your whereabouts."

"When was this?" Draco pressed, now sounded more alarmed that before.

"Just this afternoon. I brought the newspaper in Flourish and Blotts, and as I was flicking through I recognized the picture of your father," explained Morrigan, as though the information was as simple as revealing the weather forecast for tomorrow.

"Oh Merlin," sighed Draco, his face falling. "Well, if they're announcing my disappearance in the newspaper, it won't be long before they find me here."

"And that would be bad, because?" asked Morrigan. Despite her own issues with her family, the Malfoys had looked nice enough in the Daily Prophet and Merlin knows Draco looked in need of a few home-cooked meals, a long bath, and a decent bed. "They seemed really worried. Maybe you should let them know you're okay?"

Ignoring Morrigan's suggestion, Draco went straight on with the next question on his mind. "And the Daily Prophet said my Father had been acquitted?"

"Yeah, it reported that the Minister of Magic – Shacklebolt I think his name was – said that someone had come forwards with evidence claiming your father had deserted the Death Eaters before Voldemort's downfall," replied Morrigan, knowing enough about recent British history from her grandmother, to know the implications of what she'd revealed.

"Shush, don't speak the Dark Lord's name, especially not in my presence," warned Draco, looking paler still, and scared someone would jump out and accost him at any second.

"Wait a minute," said Morrigan, her eyes narrowing suspiciously, as information suddenly fell into place in her mind. "Does that mean, if your Father was acquitted of involvement with the Death Eater, that your family were somehow connected to Vol- I mean, the Dark Lord?"

"That's none of your business," said Draco, pulling up his hood and turning away from her. "So why don't you just leave me alone?"

For an instant, Morrigan was about to turn away too and mind her own business. Then she remembered the concerned plea of Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy. They had genuinely seemed worried about their son's safety.
Wondering what it would be like to have anyone in her family – aside from her grandmother- care about her that much, Morrigan decided minding her own business was not an option.

She tentatively moved her stool closer to Draco's, and then lightly tapped him on the shoulder.

"Listen, whatever trouble you got yourself into with the Dark Lord, I'm sure it isn't so bad that you and your family can't work it out. They really did seem worried," she insisted, wishing there was some way to comfort him.

Draco sighed, lowered his hood again and turned to face Morrigan.

"Maybe in another situation, you'd be right, but trust me, you don't know the half of it," he said, a wistful look in his grey eyes.

"Then tell me," suggested Morrigan, with a reassuring smile. "I know we're strangers to each other, but sometimes it helps talking to someone who isn't involved in the situation. Ok, so I might not be able to offer any brilliant advice, but I'm a good listener and I can offer us an endless supply of fire whiskey."

Draco contemplated the offer for a second, and then a warm and genuine smile crept over his face, "Ok, but I'm only telling you so you'll buy me another drink."

"Deal," said Morrigan, with a grin, as she reached for her purse.

She promptly ordered two fire whiskeys, noticing – but not caring – that her supply of money was running low.

As Tom presented them with their drinks, Draco took off his travelling cloak and turned his full attention to Morrigan.

He sat in silence for a few minutes, then took a deep breath and was about to begin his tale.

Suddenly, an all too familiar tawny owl swooped through the open window of the pub and landed directly in front of Morrigan.

"Oh God," she whispered, taking the folded parchment attached to the owl's leg.

The owl hooted softly, and then waited peacefully for Morrigan to read the letter, as if knowing she'd need it for a reply.

The raven-haired woman scanned the latter, already knowing inside her heart what it would say.

As the horrifying truth was confirmed to her in her father's familiar script, the black writing seemed to come alive.

Morrigan's face turned as white as a sheet, and tears stung the back of her eyes.

"Morrigan? Are you alright?" Draco asked tentatively.

"My Grandmother is dead," she whispered in reply, and then broke into a chilling sob.