XXIII: A Soupçon of Strife

Chapter XXIII: A Soupçon of Strife

Severus Snape had never been a morning person. Not that he minded getting up early. In fact, the hours around sunrise were normally his most productive. But that didn't mean he liked interacting with people in the morning, especially not before he'd had his coffee. But this Sunday morning found him in an especially foul mood, and no matter how much coffee the Hogwarts elves brought to his study, Snape seemed unable to shake off his testiness.

He hadn't slept well, not at all. His dreams had been haunted by all kinds of eyes. He had seen Dumbledore's eyes, blue, twinkling and kind. They had shifted shape and turned into Morgana's, which had been just as blue but cold as ice and filled with a desolation that had made Snape shiver in his dreams. He had seen Lily's eyes, emerald green and almond shaped. Those eyes had not looked at him at all. Charis' green eyes had, though, and her eyes had still held love. But also she had looked away after a while and gifted her loving look to someone else.

Snape pushed away his fourth cup of coffee and rubbed his temples to fight off the beginnings of a headache. But he knew it would be in vain. He cared too much about the people he had dreamt of to be able to shake off his dreams. They would haunt him for the rest of the day and probably even into the next night. The best thing would probably be to down some Dreamless Sleep Potion and crawl back into bed and spend all Sunday there. No one would care if the master of the dungeons didn't show his face in the Great Hall anyway. No one would miss him.

With a sigh, Snape pushed back his chair and made his way to his potions cupboard. But he had only taken a couple of steps when a soft humming noise made him freeze. The mirror, he thought and at once changed directions towards the fireplace where the little silver mirror resided on the mantelpiece. And just like in his dream, he was confronted with a pair of green eyes.

'Morgana? Morgana, are you there?'

Charis' voice sounded out into the silence of the dungeon, and as Snape reached out for the mirror and looked into the Ravenclaw's green eyes, he found his hand shaking.

'Morgana, sweetie?'

Her reflection shifted place, and another face appeared on the left side of the looking glass. But to both Charis and Snape's disappointment, it was the face of an elf.

'Mistress Morgana is still in bed, Miss Charis,' piped Silvy, and the little elf bowed so deeply that she disappeared from the mirror for a moment.

'Would Miss Charis like Silvy to wake Mistress?' the elf then asked.

'Heavens, no!' Charis exclaimed. 'If Morgana is sleeping past daybreak for once, we better let her sleep. But will you tell her I called when she wakes up? I'd really like to talk to her.'

'Silvy will tell,' promised the elf.

'Thank you, Silvy. I'll keep the mirror propped up against the wall here, so I'll hear when Morgana calls me. Tell her to shout. I might be busy cleaning.'

'Would Miss Charis like Silvy to come over and help?' the elf offered. She sounded more than enthusiastic, but Charis just smiled kindly.

'How about you do something nice for yourself before Morgana wakes up?' she suggested instead, but Silvy's puzzled face clearly suggested that the elf had no idea what something nice for herself implied.

Charis sighed and shook her head. There was no point in trying to convince Silvy to take the morning off.

'Just tell Morgana I'd like to talk to her, alright?'

The elf acknowledged Charis' wish with another deep bow and disappeared from sight, and Snape watched Charis step away from the mirror and start bustling around in her flat. She was wearing an oversized purple T-shirt and a pair of woolly socks. Her hair was dishevelled, and she wasn't wearing any make-up. Not the most flattering look, overall, but Snape did not mind. He knew Charis was beautiful in her own unique way, and he did not mind watching her move around without a bra and, most probably, without any knickers. And for a moment or two, he all but forgot about his headache, so mesmerised was he by her feminine forms. But the headache hit him once again with a vengeance when he caught sight of the faint love bite on Charis' neck.

He swore under his breath. Someone had touched his girl, and he knew pretty well who that someone was. Morgana had mentioned the previous night that Charis was currently dating Grindling Gibbons. Now it clearly looked like their relationship had already gone past the stage of holding hands.

Snape balled his fists. He wanted Charis to be happy. By Merlin, he did! And he knew that he would never be the one to make her happy. But Grindling Gibbons? Couldn't she have fallen for someone else? Someone a bit manlier? Someone with a backbone? Someone who Snape hadn't despised since their school years? Why was it his girls insisted on falling for gits?

But Charis certainly looked happy; Snape couldn't deny that, and he decided to withdraw. Pulling the blanket over his head and not emerging from it for the rest of the day seemed even more tempting now, but now Snape considered Ogden's instead of a Dreamless Sleep Potion. Yet just when he was about to turn his back on the mirror, he heard Morgana's voice.

'Charis?'

Snape gasped. Morgana's red hair – still shoulder length – hung lifelessly around her pale face. There was a feverish look in her eyes, and the dark shadows under them spoke of a sleepless night.

'Sweetie, you look dreadful!' Charis exclaimed as her face once more appeared in the mirror, and Snape could only concur.

'I think I got a cold,' Morgana informed her friend in a voice that sounded very much like she indeed was suffering from a severe head cold.

But Snape suspected differently. Morgana had played her part well at Grimmauld Place, but Snape was not easily fooled. The girl had been upset, and he had seen the signs. Most probably, she had spent the night weeping not sneezing.

'I'll bring you some chicken soup,' Charis offered at once. 'I have a chicken in the fridge. I'll add some healthy vegetables and...'

Morgana interrupted her friend with a shake of her head.

'I don't want you to catch anything from me,' she said with a raspy voice. 'I'll be fine. Don't worry. Silvy will look after me.'

'There's only so much an elf can do,' Charis protested. 'What you need is soup and hugs. I can deliver both, and you better not struggle. I'll be with you in an hour!'

Before Morgana could protest, Charis had already bustled out of sight and into the kitchen, and the sounds of clattering pots and pans made it very clear that she had already started making soup.

'If you knew what I did, you'd poison that soup,' Morgana whispered before she, too, disappeared from Snape's view. And he was left staring into the now empty mirror, already anxious about what would happen once Charis arrived at Morgana's place.

* * *

'You do look dreadful!'

'I thought we had established this already,' Morgana commented drily as she sat down on her bed again. The short walk to Madam Nutkins' lounge and back had exhausted her. Her head was pounding, and her heart was racing in her chest.

'I'm not trying to be mean,' Charis said softly and sat down beside her friend after placing the tureen carefully on the bedside table. 'I am just worried about you. I bet you went jogging in the rain last night. No wonder you're ill. You need to take better care of yourself.'

'Yes, mother,' Morgana replied tiredly. Oh, how she wished Charis were right. But Charis just giggled, blissfully oblivious to what had happened the previous night.

Silvy brought in two bowls, spoons and some slices of bread, and the girls started eating the delicious chicken soup, Charis with gusto, Morgana a little more carefully. She didn't trust her stomach too much that day.

'You're a good cook, Charis,' she commented about a couple of spoons.

'Chicken is an easy bird to prepare,' Charis explained. 'I meant to make a roast last night, but I never got around to it. I wasn't hungry. Too giddy.'

She blushed and giggled once more, and Morgana put down her bowl.

'Too giddy?' she asked. 'After your date?'

'Oh, Morgana, it was wonderful! I had such a good time. Grindling is adorable! And he looks so good in Muggle clothes. His butt in jeans!'

The words came tumbling over Charis' lips, and she was so enthusiastic about telling her friend every little detail of her date that she almost forgot to breathe. And Morgana let her talk, nodding and smiling every now and then. But on the inside, the knot in her stomach became bigger and bigger, and the feeling of guilt threatened to strangle her.

'He was so sweet, Morgana!' Charis wrapped up her account of Saturday's events. 'I don't doubt he meant it literally when he told me that he wanted to bed me on roses.'

'You're such a romantic,' Morgana commented with a raised eyebrow. 'You realise that roses have thorns, right? Then again, Grindling Gibbons can afford to buy wagon loads of hand-picked rose petals.'

'I'm not dating Grindling for his money,' Charis exclaimed defensively.

'I never said you were,' Morgana replied. 'I'm just stating facts. The Gibbons are an old family, and old families have money.'

Old families also have old friends, she added in her thoughts. Friends like Narcissa Malfoy.

Morgana's grip around her spoon tightened that she feared she'd snap it in two. Charis seemed so happy. She was falling in love with Grindling, that much was clear. And the last thing Morgana wanted was to see her friend get hurt.

'So, he didn't tell you who he was going to have dinner with?' she asked.

Charis shook her head. 'No, he didn't. But he really didn't want to go.'

And still he looked like Adonis himself when he showed up at the manor, Morgana thought. That didn't seem like someone who really didn't want to attend a dinner.

'Have you spoken to him today?' Morgana asked.

Once more, Charis shook her head. 'I sent him an owl last night, thanking him for a wonderful afternoon. He hasn't replied yet, though. Guess he had a late night.'

'Yeah, guess so,' Morgana answered half-heartedly and picked up her bowl again. She didn't have the heart to tell her friend just how Grindling had spent the night.

* * *

After finishing lunch with her friend, Charis spent the rest of the Sunday without any word from Grindling. She was worried at first, wondering if she had been too pushy, too forward or too wanton, so she had scared him away. And by the time she went to work on Monday morning, she was shaking with nervousness. What if Grindling regretted taking her to his bed? What if he regretted telling her that he wanted to make love to her? It would be so awkward to work closely with him then.

But when Charis entered the Hall of Prophecies at a quarter to nine, Grindling wasn't there.

'He's called in sick,' Charis was informed by another Unspeakable as she asked about their boss' whereabouts at half past nine. 'It's the first time he's ever called in sick. He was at work with a sinus infection for several weeks last year. He must be really ill if he's staying at home.'

Charis blushed. And here she had been, imagining the worst of scenarios about why Grindling hadn't contacted her while the poor man had been lying in bed, ill and all alone. She wanted to send an owl to him now, to give him her best wishes and offer her help, but she was so snowed under with enquiries all day that she did not even have the time to eat lunch, let alone find a minute to compile a letter. But she thought of him all day, imagining herself fluffing his pillows, dabbing his brow and feeding him chicken soup.

Chicken soup? Charis could have slapped herself. But of course! She still had some soup left from her visit to Morgana the previous day. Morgana was at work, which must mean that she was well today. So if that chicken soup helped an Auror to get back on her feet, surely it would do the Keeper of the Hall of Prophecies good as well.

And so Charis showed up at Grindling's doorstep shortly before seven o'clock that evening, clutching a tureen full of hot, delicious soup. She was feeling a little apprehensive, as she had not announced her visit, but in the end, she still knocked firmly on the door.

For some moments, there was no sound or movement at all, and Charis considered leaving again. If Grindling was too ill to even open the door, she should let him sleep and not impose her company on him. But she would leave the soup, she decided, and searched her bag for some parchment and a quill to leave Grindling a note.

She had just started scribbling when she heard shuffling footsteps. The key was being turned in the lock, and the door opened just a tiny bit.

'Grindling?' Charis asked cautiously.

'Charis?' he replied in a hoarse voice. 'What are you doing here?'

Charis' eyes widened. Grindling looked dreadful! His hair was tied back but untidy, and he was pale as a ghost. There were shadows under his eyes, and he had obviously not shaven that day. And his shirt looked as if he had been sleeping in it.

'Oh, Grindling, you look terrible!' Charis burst out at the forlorn-looking man in front of her.

'Thank you very much. I worked hard on that look,' he answered drily. In all honesty, he was unused to looking anything other than well groomed in company, and Charis catching him unawares actually made him feel a little uncomfortable.

'I'm sorry,' Charis caught herself, picking up on Grindling's discomfort. 'I mean, you must be feeling terrible. They told me you'd never missed work before. I... I brought you some soup.'

She held up the tureen unnecessarily, smiling in what she hoped was a kind way.

Grindling returned her smile, but it was a tired smile. 'You shouldn't have.'

'Someone's got to look after you,' Charis pointed out.

Grindling's mouth twitched at this.

'I'm sorry; where are my manners?' he said and opened the door fully. 'Would you like to come in? It's nothing contagious.'

'I'd risk it even if it was.'

Once more, Charis smiled and then stepped past Grindling, who carefully closed the door behind her.

'Soup, you say?' he asked, and curiously eyed the tureen Charis was carrying.

She nodded.

'Lovely! I'm starving. Let me go get some bowls.'

'No, no, Mr Gibbons,' Charis exclaimed, stepping between Grindling and what she assumed was the door that led to the kitchen. 'You belong in bed. I can fetch a bowl for you.'

'But...'

'No buts,' Charis cut him off with the most authoritarian tone she could muster. 'Into bed with you!'

Grindling hesitated but eventually made to shuffle off towards the bedroom, and Charis couldn't help but wonder if he didn't want her to set foot in his kitchen. And as she approached the sink, she realised why. There lay an empty bottle of elf-made Gin and an empty one of Odgen's. The remains of a wild bachelor party, Chris thought at first, but then she realised that there was only one glass in the sink. She raised her eyebrows. Grindling liked a drink, but spirits weren't really his style. However, evidence pointed to him having drunk those two bottles all by himself. Whatever had driven him to that?

'Some sorrows need to be drowned.'

Charis stiffened at Grindling's voice but did not turn around. She knew that he was standing in the door behind her, knowing that she had found his empty bottles. And she truly wished she hadn't.

She heard him cross the room and mutter a spell, and both bottles as well as the glass disappeared, leaving the sink as spotless as the rest of the kitchen.

'The bowls are on the top shelf,' he informed her as he came to stand beside her. 'It just hit me that you wouldn't be able to reach.'

He took down two bowls and put one back as Charis shook her head to the question of whether she wanted some soup as well, and as Grindling pointed her towards the drawer where he kept his spoons, Charis had the distinct feeling that he was avoiding her gaze. And she chided herself for having been so pushy. If she hadn't insisted on fetching a bowl herself, she would never have seen the bottles and neither of them would now need to pretend that she hadn't.

She watched him eat in silence. He ate with a healthy appetite, but his cheeks did not become any rosier. In fact, Charis thought that they grew even paler.

'How about you go and lie down and I bring you a glass of water?' she suggested when he had emptied the bowl. 'It's important to stay hydrated when one's... ill.'

She looked after him as he more or less sneaked out of the kitchen. She wanted to know what had driven him to drinking, wanted to lay her arms around him and tell him that everything would be alright, but she did not dare ask. If he wanted her to know, he would surely tell her. Or at least, Charis hoped so.

Her heart was pounding in her chest as she opened the bedroom door, and part of her considered leaving. She didn't want Grindling to feel uncomfortable. But the way he smiled at her when she entered the room gave Charis new hope.

'Have you considered Healing as a profession?' he asked as she put down the glass on the bedside table and tenderly brushed a strand of hair from his face.

Charis smiled. 'I wouldn't like dealing with the bedpans.'

Grindling gave a short laugh and reached out to brush Charis' cheek, just as tenderly as she had brushed his.

'The soup was delicious,' he said. 'Did you make it?'

Charis nodded modestly.

'Forget Healing. Become a chef.'

Charis giggled at this. 'My repertoire is quite limited,' she admitted. 'Chicken soup and beans on toast is about all I can do.'

'Nothing wrong with that. I don't care much for lobster anyway.'

They gazed at each other in silence. Charis was happy that Grindling didn't avoid her gaze anymore, and he could not believe that she was still there.

'How are you feeling?' Charis asked carefully after a while.

Grindling shrugged. 'As I deserve, I assume.'

'If you want to talk about it...'

Grindling gave a tiny shake of his head. 'I'm feeling much better now you're here.'

He smiled and held out his arm invitingly. 'Would you mind... just lying here with me for a while?'

Charis' heart took a leap. Only a few minutes ago, she had considered leaving again as she had thought that her presence had made Grindling uncomfortable. But now he was asking her to stay.

She kicked off her shoes and crawled onto the bed beside him.

'I must warn you,' he said. 'I didn't shower today.'

'I don't care,' Charis replied, snuggling down. 'You could smell of Hippogriff dung, I wouldn't care.'

'You're too sweet,' Grindling murmured, wrapping his arm around her so her head came to lie on his chest. Gently, he kissed her hair.

'I had a wonderful time with you on Saturday, Charis.'

'So did I,' she murmured back. 'You look rather good in Muggle clothes, you know.'

'I'm not sure that is a compliment,' Grindling replied, and Charis imagined him smiling.

'How's Mr Gibbs?' he asked after a moment.

'Mr Gibbs is safely tucked up in my bed,' Charis answered. 'He seems to like it there.'

'I bet he does.'

Grindling hugged her closer and held on to her tight. He seemed almost afraid she'd disappear. Charis, meanwhile, happily squeezed him back.

'I've missed you. Yesterday and today,' Grindling whispered.

'I missed you, too. I'm sorry I didn't get in touch sooner. It's been so busy that I didn't have time to think at work. I really wanted to send you an owl to wish you a speedy recovery.'

'I've never called in sick before, especially not because I was hung over. It's just... I couldn't face people today...'

Charis squeezed him again. 'It's okay.'

They said nothing more after that. Charis hoped Grindling would tell her in his own time what had driven him to drink two bottles of liquor, but for now she was content with just being held. And Grindling was happy to hold her in his arms. At least tonight, they would sleep entwined like the lovers he wished they were.

* * *

It was still early when Charis woke up the next morning. Actually, she thought she had just heard the grandfather clock in the hall chime five. But maybe, that had been a dream. She couldn't tell. But what wasn't a dream was the strong arm that lay around her waist and the gorgeous wizard who was spooning her.

Charis sighed contently and shifted her weight a bit, which resulted in Grindling tightening his grip.

'I'm sorry,' Charis whispered. 'Did I wake you?'

'I've been awake for a while,' Grindling replied and traced the curve of her neck with his nose. 'Watched you sleep.'

Charis shivered both at his words and his touch, and her heart filled with a warmth that soon spread through her whole body.

'We don't have to get up yet, do we?' she murmured.

Grindling shook his head. 'It's only five o'clock. There is no rush at all.'

Charis snuggled closer, and her eyes opened wide in surprise as she became aware of Grindling's erection that was pressing against her bum. She had never woken up in the arms of a man before, and the idea of said man waking up aroused after having held onto her all night sent a feeling of excitement through her. Oh, to make love to him while they both were still half asleep...

She tried to turn around. She wanted to kiss Grindling, touch him and caress him, but he kept a strong grip around her. He didn't hurt her, but he made sure she couldn't move.

'You should go back to sleep, dear one,' he whispered into her ear. 'We don't need to be at work for another four hours.'

At first, Charis wanted to protest. She didn't want to go back to sleep. She wanted to make love to Grindling, properly this time. She wanted to feel him deep inside her, wanted him to make her his. And surely, he wanted the same thing. But he held her firmly and whispered softly in her ear. She didn't hear everything he said, but what she heard sounded very sweet. And eventually, she dozed off after all, despite herself, and didn't wake up until two hours later. That time, she lay alone in bed.

Slightly puzzled, Charis sat up and looked around. There were candles burning on the bedside table, and there was also a note.

You still have time for a bath, dear Charis. Leave your robes on the chair by the door, and the elf will make sure they are wrinkle free and sweet smelling once you're done.

G.

Charis smiled. A bath sounded certainly tempting, although she would very much have liked to join Grindling, who was obviously in the kitchen. But she had slept in the clothes she had worn all day yesterday, and she had not brushed her teeth last night... Freshening up a bit didn't seem like a bad idea.

She opted for a quick shower and dressed quickly afterwards, secretly envying every witch and wizard who owned an elf. Because her robes looked as good as new and smelled of roses.

'Good morning, kind sir,' Charis greeted Grindling as she entered the kitchen.

He was standing by the sink with his back to the door. In earshot, for sure, but he didn't answer her greeting. In fact, he stood quite still, and Charis thought for a moment that he had not heard her. But as she came closer, she noticed that something was amiss. Grindling didn't stand tall as he usually did. His shoulders were slumped, and his knuckles were white, so hard was he holding on to the edge of the kitchen counter.

'Grindling?'

She heard him inhale sharply, but he didn't turn around. And if possible, he even tightened his grip around the counter. He seemed in distress, so much was clear. But what had caused it, Charis knew nothing of.

Bravely, she shuffled forwards, past the carefully laid breakfast table, and put a comforting hand onto Grindling's back.

'What's wrong, sweetheart? Is there anything I can do?'

'Run,' Grindling brought forth between gritted teeth. His words were barely audible. 'Run as far away as you can.'

Charis' heart stopped for a moment. Already once had a wizard told her to go away, to keep as far away from him as she possibly could. May the gods prevent Grindling from saying the same! Charis doubted that she would be able to bear the heartache.

She slowly withdrew her hand. Her first instinct was to do exactly what Grindling had suggested, run away before he could say anything to hurt her. But when he turned around, just as slowly as she was backing off, Charis froze in mid-step. Grindling looked distraught. His eyes were red rimmed and his cheeks wet with tears.

'My heart is breaking, Charis,' he whispered.

Charis swallowed drily. She neither knew what to say nor what to do. And so she just let Grindling talk.

'I care a lot for you, Charis,' he began. 'I care more for you than I have cared for any other woman for a very long time. I am falling in love with you. But...'

He swayed, and for a moment Charis was afraid he'd collapse. But she couldn't make herself reach out for him to support him.

'On Saturday evening, that dinner I attended...'

He broke off once again, drawing a shuddering breath as to steady himself.

'The woman I told you about, the one who broke my heart... It was she who invited me to dinner...'

At this, his voice broke. He cringed and made a noise that reminded Charis of the cry of a hurt animal. But still she was unable to move, even when she saw him turn around and his body shake with sobs.

'I can't rid myself of her, Charis,' he brought forth in the end. 'I tried so hard, for so many years. And when I left you on Saturday, I thought that you had given me the strength to resist her Siren call. But I am weak. I cannot get her out of my heart.'

He pounded his fist hard against the kitchen cupboard, so hard that the plates inside it rattled. But Charis did not even flinch, and the pain that shot through Grindling's hand was nothing compared to the pain they both felt in their hearts.

'I cannot do this to you, Charis,' he whispered, just loud enough for her to hear. 'I care too much for you to be giving you false hope. My heart is soiled and broken. And you deserve a one that is whole and pure. Forgive me. I beg you, forgive me.'

Once more, sobs shook Grindling's body, and for some moments, he was so absorbed in his own pain that he did not hear Charis' footsteps. And by the time he crumbled onto the kitchen floor, she had had long since Disapparated.