Due to her father’s habit of spending all the money he made on firewhiskey Morgan had been forced to buy all of her and her sister’s robes at a second hand store. There had never been enough money for new robes. Her wedding dress had been a gift from Professor McGonagall and the robes she wore now, plus nearly all the others in the closet at home had come from Severus.
Seeing that the patroness was busy with another customer Morgan wandered a bit helplessly through the racks of robes. She wanted to cry. She came from a broken home, one completely devoid of culture and now Professor Snape, [I]Severus, you fool![/I] she mentally berated herself, he is your husband now, you have every right to use his given name! expected her to hang on his arm and not make a fool of herself in a room full of death eaters.
She looked through the robes on display. White… it seemed far too pure to wear to a death eater party. Red… its Gryffindor connotations would be a slap in the face to those attending, and would paint her in a bad light. Green… she wasn’t sure if she was ready to pull off that much of a Slytherin façade. Blue… that seemed neutral enough.
She pulled out a set of silk navy blue robes and held it up, trying to figure out if she could really do this.
“That is going to be at least two feet too long on you,” a deep voice said behind her, making Morgan jump.
She quickly spun around, “Charlie?!” She flung herself into the arms of her favorite Weasley. “What are you doing here? I thought you were supposed to be in Romania!”
Charlie grinned down at her, “I was, I’m only back in the country for a couple of weeks. I saw you wander in her and couldn’t help following.” His look turned serious, “is it true? Did you really marry him?”
Morgan hung her head for a moment before raising her eyes back up to his warm brown ones, “yes.”
Charlie sighed, “Why?”
Morgan pondered the question for a moment, “Because he said he would take care of me. No one has taken care of me since my mother died. He said that he would help me get my sister out of my father’s house. And because… I feel sorry for him… I want to take care of him.”
Charlie looked as though he had tasted something extremely bitter, “you feel sorry, for him?! That greasy git…” Morgan shrugged, “it’s done, not a lot I can do about it now.”
“I wish you had written to me before you did this. I would have married you if you were only looking for someone to take care of you. Bill would have done the same. So would Oliver Wood.”
Morgan smiled softly, “it’s nice to know that all of you would have come to my rescue.”
Charlie had hooked her arm through his as they strolled around the store, “I would still rescue you. If I hear that that man has laid one hand on you…”
Morgan stopped in her tracks, “you think he would strike me?”
Charlie looked down at her, his eyes full of compassion, “you had him in class, the same as I did. We both know the kind of temper that he has.”
Morgan became very interested in the carpet, “I’ve found myself wondering if he would raise a hand to me. And I can’t honestly say that he wouldn’t, but he hasn’t so far. He scares me at times. He scares me a lot of the time.”
“You could leave him,” Charlie said, “divorce him and come to Romania with me. I’ll keep you safe.”
Morgan smiled sadly at him, “I can’t.”
“Why?”
“Because I hope…” she played with the edge of her sleeve, “it seems foolish really… but I can’t help hoping that one day he’ll love me.” She didn’t look up, she didn’t want to see the pity in Charlie’s eyes.
“Can I help you with something dearies?” Madame Malkin asked as she joined them.
Morgan looked down at the dark blue robes clutched in her hands, “I’ll take these, but they need to be shortened…”
“Come along then, it will only take a minute,” Madame Malkin ushered the young woman into the dressing room and quickly had her draped in the dark silk. She clucked her tongue as she measured the hem, “well you’re quite the tiny thing, I’ll have to take nearly a foot off of this hem to keep it off the ground. It’s a good color on you though. How formal an occasion are these for?”
Morgan stammered for a moment, she had no idea what to say. Talking about a dinner party with death eaters probably wasn’t a good idea… “Well…”
Madame Malkin looked at the girl with kind eyes, “child, between you and me… I’m a good friend of Albus’. I know you married Snape,” her voice dropped low, “and I know that he’s a spy. I’m in the Order of the Phoenix with him.”
Morgan felt her mouth fall open in shock.
Madame Malkin chuckled at the look on her young customer’s face, “not to worry dear, the secret is safe with me. Now what do you think, maybe some gold trim to bring out those yellow flecks in your eyes?”
Morgan looked at her reflection in the mirror, “no. I think silver trim.” It seemed more appropriate somehow, if she was supposed to play the part of a faithful little death eater’s wife she might as well look the part.