Metamorphome

Chapter Ten: A Fond Farewell to Number Twelve

"So, what do you think about me joining the Order?" Morrigan asked one afternoon, about a week later. She plopped down in the armchair, and both Hermione and Draco looked up from their books.

"What prompted this?" Hermione inquired, squinting her eyes slightly.

Morrigan shrugged. "I think it would be the best way to prove myself. Besides, I can't just sit there while other people are risking their lives against the Dark Lord. It seems unfair that I should live safe and sound while others die."

"Well," Hermione began slowly, "the Order would have to be able to trust you, first. And you'd have to be able to guarantee this trust. How do you plan on going about that?"

"If I just tell the truth, they'll believe me," Morrigan said faithfully, her face the object of cheer. She seemed so bubbly and excited about this idea, it almost seemed cruel to give her a taste of reality. "I mean, it would be great to actually fight beside you and Harry Potter," Morrigan told Draco, who looked slightly amused.

"Oh yes?" he asked, a tiny grin playing on his face.

"Yup. I could be a great hero, you know. I've got it in me."

"Morrigan, are you all right?" Hermione asked. "For the past few days you've been moping around the house taciturn-like, and now you're as right as rain. You haven't been drinking coffee, have you?"

"No, well, yes, but that's not the point!" Morrigan sputtered. "I just want to be something, and do it on the right side for once," Morrigan explained pleadingly. Her eyes found Draco's, but she couldn't read his expression, it was indecipherable. "I can do it," she whispered to him.

"I know you can," he told her quietly. "Just convince Mad-Eye and Lupin of that and you'll be ready to join."

"How do I do that?" she asked. "Obviously it's not like the Dark Lord's initiation. But it has to be something difficult."

"Or something stupid," Draco said with a frown. "Morrigan, I'm not sure it's worth it to try."

"Let her do it," Hermione said with a gleam in her eye. "Morrigan will be able to use her own judgment if it's too difficult or if it's ridiculous. Besides, Lupin is level-headed. He'll be good about it."

"That's great and all," Draco growled, "but when are we to be seeing them, anyway?"

"Soon. We need new supplies in the near future, anyway. We've exhausted two months worth, and we're going to need some more food here in a week. I'll owl them this afternoon."

"What do I say?" Morrigan asked them, and Draco closed his book with a sigh.

"You're going to need to play on their sympathy a little. Explain why you joined the Death Eaters in the first place, what happened here, why you want to join, and cry a little, if you can."

"Gee, that's not manipulative at all," Hermione remarked sarcastically.

Draco smirked at her and she stuck her tongue out at him.

"Anyway, that's all it takes?" Morrigan asked loudly.

"More or less," Draco said with a shrug. "They may ask to inspect your mind a little, so you'll have to let down your guard for Moody to check you out."

"All right."

"And don't be a bitch," Hermione added.

"Hey!" Morrigan protested. "I'm not that bad. Usually."

"Heh," Hermione grunted, then both Draco and Hermione opened their books and began to read again.

Dejectedly, Morrigan sought after another pursuit to while away her afternoon.

* * *

Mad-Eye and Lupin arrived right on time, three days later, at precisely noon. Morrigan and Hermione were sitting in the sitting room, Morrigan reading the Prophet, while Hermione was doing a crossword she had cut from the back. The two walked (or in Mad-Eye's case, limped) down the hall and into the sitting room, finding both girls comfortably situated.

"Granger, Flaherty," Moody growled in greeting.

Both stood. "The supplies?" Hermione asked.

"In the kitchen," Lupin told her. She nodded quietly, leaving the three alone to awkwardly situate themselves in her absence.

"Hermione told us you had something to discuss with us, Morrigan?" Lupin said politely.

Morrigan jumped softly at being thus addressed, then cleared her throat. "Yes, sir."

"Which is...?"

"I'd like to join the Order, sir."

"I see," he said quietly.

"You realize that your request is a bit difficult," Moody asked her, his eye zeroing in on hers.

"Yes. But I want to help. I know it sounds strange coming from me, and suspicious, but I swear I don't mean any harm. I truly want to help."

"But how can we tell that?" Moody asked her. "We don't have any idea what your intent is."

"I already thought of that, sir. Draco, er, Malfoy and I discussed this, and he thought it would be all right if I let you see, well, look at my thoughts."

Moody watched her piercingly. "No tricks?" he grunted, although neither of them thought he would believe her either way.

"No," Morrigan said, shaking her head.

"Very well then," Moody growled. "Lupin, come with me for a moment."

Both wizards exited the room briefly, and Morrigan sat down on the couch, preparing to make herself comfortable. She'd seen extremely nasty Occlumency sessions when the victim had been writhing, unable to control their limbs as they attempted to keep certain memories private.

The two men entered the room, and Moody drew his wand. "Brace yourself, Flaherty. I'll give you a moment to prepare."

Morrigan closed her eyes, and then with a deep breath, concentrated very hard on dropping all the walls around her thoughts. Like all good Occlumens, Morrigan could perfectly envision and depict her mental walls, so when they came crashing down, she actually heard them. The more real the walls felt, the more effective they were. Hers caused her ears to shudder in alarm at the loudness of the slams, but finally, Morrigan opened her eyes and said calmly, "I'm ready, Mr. Moody."

Moody pointed his wand between her eyes and cried, "Legilimens!"

Morrigan was thrust into the strange feeling of watching her memories again through her own eyes, yet feeling strangely disconnected. Her mother, her step-father and she were at a zoo. John held her up as the giraffe leaned down over the fence, and she stuck her fingers in its nose, giggling loudly. Then she could once again feel the blows as he hit her again and again. She could remember what he was saying, even if she couldn't hear it: "You are corrupt, and you will be saved. I will save you, corrupt child." He repeated this rhythmically as he hit her again and again. She wasn't screaming. This was a later memory, after she had learned not to scream, it would only make things far worse. Then Morrigan was at Dirving, and an older student was making fun of her, saying her parents hadn't wanted her. Then the man who had saved her from hell. His face seemed strangely kind, although he had been a very bad man, she knew. Voldemort tortured her, bringing her into his hateful order of murderers. Then she saw face after face of those she had murdered. She was forced to relive every death, every torture session. She knew she was screaming, but she didn't think she could stop. Worse, she didn't want to stop. Then she saw Draco, and the memory was of a time when she had hated him. Draco smirking at her, sneering at her, screaming at her with a livid face. Then he wasn't angry, simply understanding, and her feelings had felt conflicted. She had wanted to trust him, although she hadn't known why. Suddenly she was staring at him, and an alien feeling of trust and enamored affection consumed her--she didn't want Mad-Eye here, he wasn't welcome. She pushed Moody away from Draco and in the direction of Hermione. He didn't protest or struggle, but simply went to her memories of Hermione.

Hermione sobbing as she told her things, things that had upset Hermione. Even now Morrigan felt self-revulsion at having said such things to such a sweet, eager girl. She felt Moody recoil similarly, a part of his conscious sapped from her mind. It was back again, though, and he searched through the developing feelings of friendship and loyalty. Morrigan defending Hermione to Draco. Morrigan standing between Ginny and Hermione. Morrigan feeling terrible for having caused such a rift between the best friends. Moody went through her memories of the past month and a half, watching Christmas, seeing her tell the story of Conlai. He watched her read those Muggle books in fascination and growing understanding.

That's enough, Morrigan thought, and very slowly she shoved Moody from her mind. He had fully violated her thoughts, although she had allowed him to do so. As soon as Moody was gone, her mental blocks erected themselves with a shuddering boom. She opened her eyes and found herself laying upside down on the couch, flat on her back. Draco and Hermione were leaned over the back of the sofa, watching her worriedly. Morrigan's eyes connected with Draco's, and she saw deep approval there. She shivered, then stood up.

"Did I pass?" she asked hoarsely, having screamed quite a bit.

"Yes," Moody said shakily but assuredly. "You did, Morrigan."

Morrigan stared at him, but knew the reason he had used her first name. The familiarity with which he knew her now was probably as if he had grown up with her. She was more Morrigan to him than Flaherty.

"Will you let me in the Order?" she asked him eagerly.

"Oh yes," Moody muttered. "I think we can arrange that."

Lupin clapped his hands together. "Our replacement for Draco!" he said, looking at Morrigan expectantly, but she shook her head firmly.

"No, I won't go back there," she told him determinedly. "I left that life behind, and I can't imagine going back." She shuddered, as if to emphasize her point.

"We'll find someone else," Moody said in uncharacteristic kindness. "We'll find something else for you to do, Morrigan."

She nodded quietly. "Are you ready, Remus?" Alastor asked, and Remus nodded.

"See you kids soon. Take care." Then they left.

As the door shut behind them, Morrigan jumped up and down, shrieking wildly. "I passed! I'm cured! I'm cured!"

Hermione came around the couch to embrace her. Morrigan held her tight, then whispered in her ear, "Thanks, Hermione. You're the best friend I've ever had."

Hermione froze in their hug, unsure of what to say. Ginny was her best friend, and as trivial as having a "best" friend may seem, she knew it would crush Morrigan for her to say something about Ginny being her only best friend.

"Thank you, too," she whispered.

Morrigan pulled away, then walked shyly around the couch, hugging Draco, too, who felt stiff. But he softened, holding her just as tightly. Morrigan breathed in his scent, memorizing it. She would never be able to describe it, but she'd always remember it. Always always always...

* * *

"To the worm who became a butterfly," Hermione toasted, holding her butterbeer up; Morrigan and Draco met hers with their own.

"Morrigan," Hermione giggled drunkenly, "you're not supposed to participate in your own toast."

"I will if I damn well please," Morrigan laughed, then took a swig of her butterbeer. "And you are a terrible drinker, Hermione. I could have guessed it, but bloody hell, woman. I put three bottles near you and you were done! You drink like a house elf!"

"Hey, how many have you had?" Hermione demanded slowly.

"Five," Morrigan giggled.

Draco rolled his eyes. "I'm at six and I'm not even feeling a buzz."

"Well, that's because you're twice our size," Hermione retorted. "If I was your size, I might be able to do that, too."

"Morrigan's smaller than you, Hermione," Draco pointed out.

She looked at Morrigan with her head turned slightly to the side. "Mebbe a little," she admitted. "But not much."

"I'm taller," Morrigan added. "Hermione's built better, though."

"Hear hear," Hermione cheered, bumping glasses with Morrigan. "If you compliment my figure, I will buy you another drink, dear."

"Hermione, I don't believe you've ever drank before," Morrigan said amusedly.

"No, no, never have. I mean, I've had a butterbeer here and there, but not this much. Never had reason to."

"Never?" Draco asked, astounded.

"Nope. The war started at the end of our fifth year right?"

"No, our fourth," Draco said with a frown. She was apparently a dumb drunk.

"Right," she affirmed. "That's much too young to begin drinking."

"Actually," Morrigan said, standing, "nineteen is much to young to be drinking how much we are. It's time for you to go to bed or you'll be asking for a giant hangover."

"All right," Hermione laughed, standing with wobbly legs. Morrigan helped her up the stairs, leaving Draco to laugh at their antics.

Morrigan waited until Hermione dressed into her pajamas, then tucked her into the bed, feeling rather like a mother. She was about to leave when Hermione called, "Morrigan, do you want to live with me?"

Morrigan turned and looked at her. "I already do, Hermione."

"No, no, outside of Grimmauld. I have a flat, you know."

"Oh really?" Morrigan asked, her voice amused.

"Well, I'm serious. You can't just hang out at Grimmauld all the time. You have to get out. And if you just want to live at my place with me for awhile, you're more than welcome."

"Are you sure now's the best time to be offering this to me?"

"Eh, I've been thinking about it for awhile. And I'm not that drunk. Just rather giggly."

"Oh."

"Well?"

"Well what?"

"Well, are you going to take me up on my offer?"

"Sure," Morrigan said simply. "If you really mean that in the morning."

"Oh I will," Hermione told her assuredly. "I will."

* * *

Hermione was quite all right the next morning. She said her head tweaked a little, but otherwise she was fine. She did remember the conversation, and didn't recant the offer. So, after a thorough discussion, they both decided to approach Draco on the matter.

They both went to breakfast, where Draco was already waiting. "It's your job to do breakfast," he remind Morrigan without looking up from the paper and his coffee.

"Draco, we're moving out," Morrigan told him abruptly, and he looked up sharply.

"Where are you going?" he asked them.

"I'm going to stay with Hermione at her flat in London."

"You're quite sure that's safe?" Draco inquired shrewdly.

"No, we're not," Hermione said, "but my life never was safe in this world."

"True," Draco sighed. "All right. I suppose today's as good a day as any to clean the house up."

Morrigan made breakfast, which they ate silently. Afterwards they began to pick candles and wax remnants from various corners. Draco banished the tree with a pop and left the decorations in a box to be put in the attic. Morrigan was disappointed to see all the decorations gone. Now halfway through January, the removal of the greens was long overdue. But Morrigan had enjoyed them, so they had remained mostly up.

With the last decoration safely stored in the attic, the three sat down on the couch, savoring the last afternoon as a trio. Hermione mused at the unlikely combination of the three, but found that they all fit each other extremely well--almost as well as she, Ron, and Harry fit. For some reason, she couldn't shake the feeling that she had to talk to Draco, although she had nothing specific in mind when she thought of this. She had said everything that needed to be said to Draco a long time ago. Perhaps he needed to say something to her?

She spent the rest of the day feeling this way, going through her working and playtime thinking of this. After dinner, Morrigan retired early, which was strangely fortunate. Hermione was given the chance to talk to Draco. Both found their way into the sitting room where they spent a good fifteen minutes in silence, staring into the fire. Hermione eventually said, "It's all going to change again."

"I know," Draco replied quietly.

"I don't want it to change, Draco."

"I know you don't, Hermione." He turned to look at her. The looks on their faces must have been of identical anxiety. Something passed between them.

"Please visit us," Hermione pleaded. "We're going to miss you more than we could possibly articulate."

"I promise I will." There were a few moments of silence, neither of them speaking what was truly on their minds.

"What happened here?" Hermione asked him. "We set out to change Morrigan, and we ended up changing ourselves."

"Did we really change?" Draco asked, his brow furrowed.

"We couldn't stand each other at the beginning of this," she reminded him.

"Good point."

"It's just that...maybe this is a bit forward, but it seems that we've gone in a direction that really can't be changed. We might not have intended it to end up like this, but it did. Unless I'm very wrong, there are certain...affections between us that we can't just ignore."

"And we can't exactly establish them," Draco told her carefully. "This is tricky ground."

"Very tricky," Hermione agreed disappointedly. She had almost hoped he would take her in his arms and offer to take her away.

"Maybe this will help," he said, then leaned across towards her.

This time, Hermione had different thoughts in her mind. First, that she was cheating on her boyfriend twice, despite her indignant protests that Ron didn't trust her when she was, in fact, trustworthy. The second was that Draco Malfoy kissed her. And the third was that she had very much wanted him to do it, despite the consequences.

* * *

Morrigan, Hermione, and Draco were packed and ready the next morning, preparing to say their good-byes. Hermione left the sitting room so that Morrigan and Draco could be left alone. Hermione knew they had a different sort of relationship, and she didn't want to interfere with it at all.

Morrigan and Draco faced each other, staring each other down. Draco didn't know what Morrigan was thinking, nor she him. Morrigan knew what she was thinking: Draco Malfoy, will I ever see you again? And he was thinking, Morrigan, why are you making me feel so guilt-ridden as you stare at me with those enormous eyes of yours?

"I suppose this is good-bye, then," Morrigan began lamely.

"Yes," Draco said, his response just as lame, if not lamer.

"I don't really want to do this," Morrigan said. "I've never done this before. It seems like one of those things that should be profoundly easy. But with the war, I don't know..."

"We'll see each other," Draco said firmly.

"Okay," Morrigan whispered, and without warning she pressed herself forward into his arms. He stiffened again at the contact, then Morrigan began to fit more smoothly in his arms. She looked up at him, then planted a simple but very sweet kiss on his lips.

He pulled back in surprise, but then to his increasing shock, he himself leaned forward and kissed her, this kiss deeper. Morrigan was a beginner at this, with less expertise than Hermione or himself. But with her innocence came the sincerity. Kissing wasn't a habit, a skill, a second nature. It was something she put effort into. He appreciated it, despite the awkwardness. It took him back to his own first kiss, with whom he couldn't remember, but it had still been rather nice.

They pulled apart, and Morrigan looked rather surprised. "Sorry," she whispered, her eyes searching his face.

"I'm not," he told her, grinning down at her.

Her eyes widened slightly then she smiled. "Well, that was something new. Shall we do it again some time?" she asked, laughing slightly.

"Sure," he returned.

They pulled apart, just as Hermione entered the room. "Almost time to go," Hermione told Morrigan, pointing to the fireplace. "Draco has something for you."

Morrigan looked expectantly at Draco, who fished in his robes to pull something out--a very long, wooden something.

"My wand!" Morrigan exclaimed happily, grabbing it.

She felt the familiar warm feeling of her wand. It was eleven and half inches, yew, with whiskers from a silkie, found off the coast of Ireland. No other wand would ever feel quite so comfortable in her hands as this.

She pointed her wand at her hand and muttered something unintelligible. A ball of flame ignited in her hands, and she threw it up, catching it smoothly. She finished the spell, the flames evaporating.

With a grin, she hugged Draco one more time. "Please come visit us," she requested of him.

"I will," he promised.

"Bye, Draco," both girls called, then Hermione walked down the hallway.

With one last glance at Draco, Morrigan followed.

It seemed that they would be out of Draco's life for a while.