XXIV: The Sympathy of Snakes

Chapter XXIV: The Sympathy of Snakes

In another part of London, in a tiny room at the corner of Diagon Alley and Knockturn Alley, to be precise, Tuesday morning had also started early, not to anyone's surprise. Morgana usually awoke before sunrise, and most days, she was glad to have woken up. For the land of dreams was ordinarily not a place she liked to dwell in for too long. This night, however, there had been no nightmares, no whispers and no steely grey eyes, and Morgana had slept peacefully. Yet still, she had awoken shortly after five with her heart racing in her chest. And since then, she had been pacing her room, unable to get rid of the feeling that something bad was about to happen.

Shortly after seven, Silvy sneaked into the room with breakfast: buttered toast and a cup of tea, the only thing her mistress' stomach could handle in the morning. The good elf never showed up before seven, even though she knew very well that her mistress had been up much earlier. Her mistress needed those hours for herself, Silvy knew that. Just as well as she knew that not more than one of the three slices of toast would be eaten. But Silvy loved her mistress and didn't make a fuss, even though her little elf heart knew that something was amiss.

Morgana drank her tea at the window, overlooking Diagon Alley. The street was still quiet. None of the shops had opened yet, and there were only a few people up and about. The bakery a little further up the street was open, of course, and there were some owls flying around, delivering the morning edition of the Daily Prophet. Otherwise, all was silent, and Morgana, therefore, almost dropped her tea cup in surprise as a beautiful snowy owl tapped its beak at her window.

'Who sent you out so early in the morning?' Morgana asked as she opened the window and lifted the owl inside. 'Or have you been flying all night?'

She set her breakfast plate in front of the bird and let it nibble on her toast while she untied the ribbon with which the little roll of parchment had been tied to the owl's leg. It was a green and silver ribbon made of the finest silk. The parchment, too, looked rather expensive. And when Morgana broke the seal, she was not even surprised that it bore the Malfoy crest. Yet still, her hands shook slightly as she unrolled the parchment, and she couldn't deny that she felt relieved when she recognised Narcissa's handwriting, neat and slender, as befitted a lady.

Dearest Morgana,

Cissy

'Took you two days to compose an apology, eh?'

Morgana could not help but give a short, bitter laugh which startled the owl and made the poor bird almost choke on the bit of toast it had in its beak. But that was nothing compared with the shock the owl received shortly afterwards, when a second young witch appeared in the middle of the room, seemingly out of thin air.

'Charis!' Morgana exclaimed, just as alarmed as the bird. Charis had always been one to announce her visits in good time and knock politely at the door. Apparating into a room at half past seven in the morning without any warning wasn't like her.

'He... he broke... broke it off!'

Charis was sobbing so violently that her words weren't even close to being comprehensible, but it didn't matter. She was in such a state that her mere appearance was enough to make Morgana drop the letter she was holding and make a beeline for her friend instead.

'Hush, sweetie. Hush.'

But Morgana's words didn't help. If anything, Charis seemed to cry even harder when she flung her arms around her friend. And Morgana knew nothing else to do than pat the Ravenclaw awkwardly on the back. She had never been good at consoling people.

'Deep breaths now, chicken,' she said calmly and directed Charis towards the yet unmade bed. She had a feeling that her friend wouldn't manage to keep standing for much longer.

'What's going on?'

'He... he broke it off,' Charis managed to bring forth between sobs. 'He... he's in love with someone else... Another woman...'

'Grindling?' Morgana asked stupidly and could have slapped herself for it. Of course Charis was talking about Grindling. Who else?

'Saturday...,' Charis continued, tears still streaming down her face. 'He... he had dinner with her on Saturday. He said he can't get her out of his heart. He... he loves her.'

Morgana paled.

He holds you in very high regard, Narcissa had written. And I know he would be keen to meet with you again.

Icy cold dread went through Morgana. No, surely not. This couldn't be. They'd both had too much wine and too much gu. Surely, Grindling had recovered from both by now.

But he had called her enchanting, adorable. He had held her so gently and looked at her as if she were the most beautiful woman he had ever set eyes upon. And she had encouraged him, got onto her toes to kiss him.

No, this must be a misunderstanding!

'Charis, look at me,' Morgana said, steeling herself as she cupped her friend's chin. 'Would you please start from the beginning?'

Red-rimmed green eyes locked onto blue ones, and Charis took a shuddering breath. Morgana, however, did not dare breathe at all.

'Grindling did not come in to work yesterday, and I hadn't heard a word from him all Sunday. I was afraid that I had been too pushy or too needy and that I had scared him off, but then one of the Unspeakables said he was sick and he never calls in sick.'

She broke off and sniffed, dabbing her nose with a tissue.

'I decided to go round after work and bring the leftover soup, as it made you feel better. Oh, he looked awful, Morgana. But it wasn't the flu. I found bottles of liquor in his sink... He was hung-over. He'd drunk himself into a stupor.'

Once more, Charis broke off. She had felt so sorry for Grindling when she had realised why he had stayed home. She had wanted him to tell her what had driven him to drinking, had wanted to share his burden and make him happy again. Now she wished that she had never asked.

'I didn't want to pressure him. I hoped he'd tell me in his own time what was burdening him. So, we spent the night cuddled up instead, and we fell asleep.'

A sad smile flitted over Charis' face. Everything had felt so right when she had been lying in Grindling's arms. She had felt so safe, so loved.

'This morning... he was romantic. He told me he'd watched me sleeping. He was going to cook breakfast for me. But, when I came in the kitchen...'

Her voice started to wobble, and once more her sight was clouded with tears.

'He told me he couldn't lie to me and that his heart was tainted by another witch.'

She buried her face in her hands as sobs shook her body again, and Morgana hid her own shaking hands in the folds of her robes. She did not know what to say. Her first impulse was to apologise, but she sadly lacked the courage. What if Charis didn't accept her apology? What if she lost her best friend over a man she barely cared about?

'He... he said she has haunted him for many years...' Charis went on, her face muffled by her hands. 'He said that he can't break free of her.'

She looked up mournfully and desolately at Morgana, who in her turn tried to give her friend a compassionate look.

'Why would he do this to me, Morgana?'

Morgana opened her mouth to speak, but the words failed her. She felt for Charis, she truly did, but she couldn't help but feel unspeakably relieved that the woman Grindling held in his heart wasn't her. So relieved, that she didn't think about who it was instead.

She gingerly patted her friend's blond hair, letting her hand linger for just a moment longer than was custom between friends. She didn't know what to say. Before he had become befuddled with the wine and the gu, Grindling had spoken so highly of Charis. 'She means a lot to me,' he had said. 'I would never do anything to hurt her.' But now he had hurt her, and he had wounded deeply. For the sake of another woman, a woman who had haunted him for many years.

Morgana frowned as the truth dawned on her. She had seen the look in Grindling's eyes. She had seen him smile. But on Saturday night, she had been too preoccupied with her own thoughts and worries to read the signs correctly. Could it be that the woman in question was... No, surely not. That was just preposterous. But then again, it seemed like the most natural thing in the world.

'How am I going to face him at work?' Charis suddenly piped up, thereby interrupting Morgana's thoughts. 'I really don't want to go in today!'

'Oh, you're not going to work! You have a cold. Got it from me this weekend.'

Charis gave her friend a surprised look as the latter stood up.

'I, on the other hand, am running late.'

'But it's only eight o'clock,' Charis protested, her confusion growing bigger by the moment. 'You don't start until nine.'

'I need to be there early,' Morgana explained, looking for her cloak. 'I am going to have a little chat with Mr Gibbons.'

'Morgana, no!' Charis explained. 'You really don't have to do that!'

'Yes, I do,' Morgana replied. She sounded calm and determined. 'No one hurts my Star Sister. No matter who he's related to.'

Charis gave her friend a watery smile.

'Don't give him a black eye, alright?' she said in a feeble tone.

'I was thinking about a more subtle form of torture,' Morgana replied drily. 'But if he's putting up a fight...'

Despite everything, a little laugh escaped Charis, and Morgana kneeled down in front of her and once more cupped her friend's chin.

'I want you to curl up under a comfy blanket and eat loads of chocolate today,' she said. 'This rat hole will not do, though. And you'll need your kitty. Silvy!'

The elf appeared in a blink of an eye, and Morgana turned her head to talk to her. She did not, however, let go of Charis.

'Silvy, I want you to take Charis home and stay with her all day. She needs company and chocolate. I'm talking wagonloads of chocolate. Do you understand?'

'Yes, mistress,' the elf replied, and today Morgana didn't even mind being addressed in that manner.

'Morgana, this isn't necessary,' Charis objected. 'I can take care of myself.

'Hush now,' Morgana interrupted her. 'I'd take care of you myself today, but Moody would throw a fit if I don't show up. And Silvy will be ever so happy to wait on you. I think she is bored out of her mind. Isn't that so, Silvy?'

'Silvy will be happy to serve mistress Morgana's friend,' the elf replied. 'All Miss Charis has to do is tell Silvy what chocolate she likes.'

'Well trained, that one,' Morgana commented and then got to her feet once more.

'Let me know if you need me,' she said, and picked up the little silver mirror from her bedside table to put it into her pocket. 'I'll be there as soon as I can.'

* * *

While Charis' flat filled with the comforting smell of chocolate croissants and she lay curled up on the sofa with Lily tightly hugged to her chest, Grindling Gibbons made his way through the atrium at the Ministry, barely noticing the greetings of his fellow Ministry workers.

'Good morning, Mr Gibbons.'

'Nice to have you back, Grindling.'

'You look terrible, Gee. Are you sure you're well enough to be here? Shouldn't you be at home, resting?'

To that, Grindling just gave a non-committal nod. The thought of staying at home had struck him, too. But he hadn't considered resting. Emptying that bottle of Ogden's, more likely, and any other bottle of hard liquor he could get his hands on. Not that getting drunk had helped chase his demons away over the weekend. But if he did it properly this time, he might just never have to face them again.

Just how he had found the strength to leave the Firewhisky where it was and get dressed for work was beyond Grindling. He couldn't even remember if he had Flooed into work or Apparated. Everything was a haze, and his thoughts were far, far away. He was, therefore, totally taken by surprise when a hand closed around his arm and he was dragged aside.

'You heinous bastard!'

The wand that was pointing at his nose was as effective as a bucket of cold water over the head, and all of a sudden, Grindling was acutely aware of his surroundings. He was in a lift, a lift whose doors were firmly shut but that wasn't moving. He was being pressed against the wall of said lift. And the wand whose tip he was staring at was held by a small, familiar-looking hand.

'If you as much as think about pulling your wand, I'll hex your pretty face right off.'

Utterly shocked and bewildered, Grindling slowly raised his hands in a truce-like gesture.

'M-Morgana,' he stammered. 'If this is about Saturday... I am so sorry. I acted inappropriately. I should not have...'

'Oh, shut it, Prince Charming!' Morgana interrupted him. 'This is not about Saturday!'

Her blue eyes were as cold as a frozen lake, her jaw set and her lips but a thin line. Her wand wasn't even shaking the tiniest bit, and the vice-like grip with which she held Grindling pinned to the wall made it clear to him that Morgana was not joking around. What she was so furious about, however, he knew nothing about.

'Is this your idea of "I don't want to hurt Charis", Grindling? Dumping her over breakfast?'

Despite having a wand pointed at his face by a young witch who seemed more than capable and willing to hex him into the next century, Grindling felt a wave of relief wash over him.

'You've spoken to Charis,' he brought forth. 'Thank goodness. I... I tried to contact her. I sent her an owl. I used the Floo. But she wasn't home.'

'She was at my place,' Morgana hissed.

'Is she alright?'

'Is she alright?' Morgana repeated. 'You can't be fucking serious!'

'I never meant to hurt her,' Grindling confessed sorrowfully, blinking furiously to keep back the tears that were welling up in his eyes. He felt dizzy now, and he wasn't sure that he would manage to keep standing if Morgana weren't pinning him to the wall.

'I never meant to hurt her,' he repeated. 'She means too much to me.'

'That was one hell of a way to show her,' Morgana spat. But despite the anger still bubbling in her chest, she lowered her wand.

'I never meant to hurt her,' Grindling said for a third time, and this time, Morgana believed him. The look in his grey eyes was more than desperate, and his whole posture spoke of desolation and exhaustion.

'Tell me why you broke it off with her,' she demanded.

'Didn't she tell you?'

'I want to hear it from you. From your mouth, in your own words.'

'I am haunted by another woman, Morgana,' Grindling started slowly after having taken a deep, shuddering breath. 'She has haunted me for almost two decades, half of my life. She was my first love, my only love. Until I met Charis.'

He closed his eyes and took another couple of deeps breaths.

'When I left Charis on Saturday, I believed... I hoped that her love and what I feel for her would be enough. I truly hoped it would give me the strength to stand tall and break free from my bonds. But I am weak. All it took was for that woman to click her fingers, and once more I danced like a puppet.'

'When a Malfoy says "jump",' Morgana said quietly. She had long since let go of Grindling's robes, but her hand had lingered on his chest. Now it took all her willpower not to caress his cheek.

'You are talking about Narcissa Malfoy, aren't you?'

Grindling nodded, and as his grey eyes locked onto Morgana's blue ones, he looked truly wretched.

'I love Charis, Morgana. Truly, I do. And it's because I love her that I cannot deceive her. I cannot be with her if I can't give my whole self to her. She deserves a heart that is whole and pure.'

'She broke yours, didn't she?' Morgana asked and placed her hand over the wizard's heart. 'Narcissa, I mean.'

Grindling nodded sadly.

'Ripped it in two, stamped on it, chewed it up and spat it out. And still I love her. Aren't I the biggest fool on this earth?'

Barely noticeably, Morgana shook her head, contemplating the fact that they had both had their hearts smashed to smithereens by Malfoys. Grindling had suffered for almost twenty years. How long would she have to suffer?

'There are many fools like that, Grindling,' she said softly. 'Two in this very lift.'

Grindling frowned, but when he opened his mouth to speak, Morgana stepped away from him, backing up until her back touched the opposite wall and she could go no further. And Grindling understood that it wasn't the right time to ask.

'Cissy won't give up, Morgana,' he said after a while. 'She is hell-bent on bringing you and me together.'

'I know.'

Morgana sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. What she was about to suggest seemed ludicrous, but for the time being, she had no better idea. And with some luck, they could all be set free.

'If we play along,' she started, 'if we can make Narcissa believe that you and I are really... falling for each other... Will she let you go?'

Grindling shrugged. 'I guess.'

'And you, Grindling? If Narcissa takes her hand off you, will you be able to walk away from her and never look back?'

Grindling hesitated, maybe a moment too long for Morgana's liking. But when he finally answered, he sounded earnest.

'I would do anything to be free of her.'

Morgana nodded.

'We'll have to be convincing. Narcissa needs to believe that you really have given your heart to me. Your whole heart. She doesn't need to know who you've really given it to.'

'Will Charis still want it?' Grindling asked fearfully. 'Will she still want... me?'

Morgana exhaled audibly.

'Charis cares for you just as much as you care for her, Grindling. Why else do you think she's crying her eyes out now?'

The pain in Grindling's eyes hit Morgana right in the heart, and as Grindling asked her if she would do him a favour, she couldn't turn him down.

'Will you give this to her?' he asked, producing a little round, silver object from his pocket. 'It's called a Draumar ,' he explained. 'It's a Sight-Saver, a prophecy recorder.'

Morgana tilted her head and eyed the little object. It was pretty, covered in stars and moons. Charis would surely like it.

'It works like a Pensieve,' Grindling went on. 'Most true visions are immediately forgotten by the divinator and thus reported by spectators. They're second-hand information, so to speak. A Draumar records the prophecy straight from the prophet, you see.'

'Why would you give this to Charis?' Morgana asked. She was no fan of divination but, nonetheless, intrigued by the little object.

'I showed it to Charis in her first week here, and she loved it,' Grindling replied.

'No surprise there,' Morgana commented. 'There are stars on it.'

Grindling smiled.

'They are rare, Draumars. This one was given to me by my grandmother. It was handed down through generations. It means a lot to me. I carry it with me every day. Now I'd like Charis to have it, to show her how much I care for her.'

He held it out towards her, and Morgana held it in her hand, looking at the way the skilful engravings winked in the light. It seemed to be made of solid silver but still fragile enough to be crushed in a fist.

'It's pretty,' she conceded.

'Just like Charis,' Grindling pointed out and gave her an awkward smile.

Morgana nodded.

'I'm sorry that I was a bit rough with you,' she said, putting the Draumar in her pocket and pointing at Grindling's wrinkled robes.

'And I'm sorry for getting you involved, Morgana,' he answered.

'This is not your fault,' Morgana said dismissively. 'Neither is it Narcissa's, if I think about it.'

Grindling looked puzzled, but Morgana just shook her head.

'Expect an owl soon with yet another appointment at the manor,' she said instead. 'I got mine this morning with an invitation to high tea. Girls only. I guess Narcissa will want to tell me about the birds and the bees so I am prepared when I meet you the next time and won't run off because your flirtations are scaring me.'

At this, Grindling couldn't help but laugh. But soon the laughter died away, and he once more looked at Morgana with pain in his eyes.

'What have we got ourselves in to?'

'One big mess, Mr Gibbons,' Morgana replied gravely. 'One big mess.'