CHAPTER THIRTEEN

FAR FROM HOME

✧

AINSLEY MANOR STILL SEEMED AS UNWELCOMING AS WHEN SHE FIRST MOVED IN. It still had this air of you don't belong when she walked down the halls, and when she saw all the house elves working tirelessly without any praise or thanks for their never-ending deeds. Still didn't feel like home even though she had been living there for six months, though she didn't actually stay there for a majority of those months, and her room still felt more like a hotel room than her bedroom.

It didn't feel like home, didn't feel like her own space with her paintings and her furniture, her character covering the walls. It felt like someone else's space which she was just temporarily living in. The walls were white like the rest of the manor, different from the light yellow walls she cherished in her old home, there since she was a child and moved in with Helen.

Greer, comfortable as ever, seemed to be more relaxed than she was at school hidden by all these lying walls, and Helen lit up the dull and chilling house with her smile, but Morgan felt more on edge than ever. This wasn't her home, no matter how Helen said welcome home when they picked up her and Greer from Kings' Cross.

This wasn't home. It would never be home, and she couldn't understand how Helen was tricked into believing that it was.

Her room wasn't her room, her house wasn't her home. She didn't feel secure enough to sneak out for a midnight snack, always felt like an outsider when she walked around during the day, and she couldn't even have her own friends over.

"You know how Alistair is," Helen informed her with a sad look in her eyes, "I've tried talking to him about this but he just won't budge. I'm sorry, dear."

She wanted to scoff, roll her eyes, and spit something nasty at her aunt because how sorry could she be if she didn't allow them over even without Alistair's permission? But she couldn't, and wouldn't, because that was rude and Helen didn't deserve that, no matter how angry it made Morgan that Greer got to invite her friends over whenever she wanted all she had was the company of Carlisle.

He was nice, she supposed, but he wasn't Dominic or Adeline. He didn't understand her the way they did, didn't like the muggle records she had in her room which she played all day to drown out the stall sound of the manor, and he didn't fit with her correctly. He was nice, she supposed, and he would do for now, but she couldn't see them ever talking when she went back to school.

Maybe during summer, when she was sure again that Adeline and Dominic wouldn't be allowed over, but not before then.

"You don't seem particularly happy here," Carlisle noted, a frown curling on his face which matched the one on hers.

Morgan frowned, straightening herself up and playing another ABBA record because she was tired of listening to The Beatles now. She needed something more lively. "It's not home," she told him honestly.

"You live here, don't you? Doesn't that mean it's home?" Carlisle asked, intrigued.

She turned back to him and gave him a small smile. He sat on the chair next to her desk, back straight and with the poise only of those with long pureblooded history. Like Alistair, the Blacks, the Malfoys, and so many more. It was odd to see a normal person, in the comfort of a house, all alone with only another person, still carrying on like this and not loosening their shoulders. Morgan could never do that.

"Home is more of a state rather than a place," she shook her head, "I'm home when I'm with my friends, or Aunt Helen. Home was our old house, before she got married to Alistair. But this...it can never be home."

"I don't see why. It's a fine house, great interior and exterior, and the finest house elves," Carlisle commented, looking around, "Everything is clean."

"Exactly," Morgan nodded, "Everything is clean and so pristine. Nothing is cluttered, nothing is personal, it all just feels like an exhibit at a gallery. And I'm not used to house elves, I don't like them here. I feel weird about it. Home is more like making cookies with my aunt on Friday nights while watching some telly."

"Telly?" Carlisle cocked his head in confusion.

"Television," Morgan told him, "It's a muggle thing, and it's wonderful. I wish we had one here so I could show you..."

He turned his head up, and a brief amount of disgust was present when she mentioned that it was a muggle invention. "I don't think I would like it, actually."

She looked at him, and part of her wanted to hex him or at least comment about it, but that would only result in him telling his parents or Alistair but either way it would end with Alistair yelling at her about minding her manners and not being rude, along with a snide comment against muggles. The last thing she wanted was for that to happen, so she swallowed down her anger.

"Your loss then, because Cinderella is simply fantastic," she smiled at him, hoping that he didn't see how much she wanted to crush him.

He shrugged indifferently, not asking for any more details, not that she assumed he would. This was exactly why he was only fine to hang out with, and not wonderful company. She just had to get through the rest of break, and then she would be back at Hogwarts with her friends and she could vent and everything would be forgotten about this horrible winter break. Next year she'd just stay at Hogwarts. She might be alone, but that at least be better than this.

"Do you think that the only reason you don't find this to be home is because you keep hanging onto muggle culture?" Carlisle inquired, staring at her almost like he was studying her.

She blinked at him, crossing her arms defensively. "No," she told him, feeling herself getting heated, "This isn't home because of a lot of reasons, but none of them include me hanging onto muggle culture too much. I like muggle culture, I like their music and their movies, their inventions, and everything else. You may not, but that's not my problem. This place isn't home because it doesn't feel comforting like a home should be. I don't feel comfortable or secure here, so how can it be home?"

He stared at her, and she could see slight anger in his eyes, like she was directly challenging him and not just stating her feelings. This wasn't home, and he shouldn't be angry about that. Her feelings of home didn't concern him.

"Maybe you aren't comfortable because you aren't allowing yourself to be," Carlisle told her, and she wanted to scream at him, to throttle him, to hex him into oblivion. Something, anything, to make him understand that it wasn't her fault she didn't feel at home.

Home was where she felt comfortable, home was with people she loved, and she absolutely abhorred Alistair Ainsley with all her heart. She couldn't be at home with him here, and she couldn't be at home in a place that didn't have ABBA or Queen playing constantly.

"Or maybe I'm not comfortable because this isn't a place of love. This is a place of coldness," she finally snapped at him, her eyes flaring at anger. She huffed, looking away from him, allowing herself to calm down before turning back to him, "Maybe we should just talk about something else. This isn't going anywhere."

"I'm just trying to help you," Carlisle shrugged, as if trying to absolve himself from any blame she could possibly lay on him.

"Well you're not, so let's just move on," she snapped at him again, sitting down on her bed, and wishing more than ever that Dominic and Adeline were here instead.

✧

TWO HOURS LATER, WHEN Carlisle finally left (and yes, Morgan did indeed count how many hours it took for him to finally be called home), Morgan snuck downstairs towards the kitchen. It still felt strange to use that word when she was at home, snuck, because she was used to just bumbling down the stairs as loud or quiet as she wanted without any care.

Now, though, she cared. Alistair didn't think it was lady-like to bumble down, being as loud as an elephant, and wanted her to be as dainty as Greer was. So, she one-upped Greer and made herself sound like a ninja, that way Alistair never knew she was coming, also infuriating him. Either way, she couldn't win, but at least she got to make him angry.

As she passed through the hallway, quiet as a mouse, she could hear Alistair talking to someone in his office. She frowned, not knowing that someone else had even come over, but it wasn't like he told them his itinerary for the day and who would be coming over when.

"Give me time, Bellatrix," she heard Alistair snap at someone, and she frowned.

Slowly inching toward the door to continue listening, for now she was interested, she leaned her ear to the piece of wood.

"We've given you nearly a year now, and you know that the Dark Lord isn't a patient man," she heard a woman's voice reply, "You should have gained her trust by now."

"And I have, but these matters are more delicate. Doesn't help that her niece takes any chance to cast doubt upon me when she can," Alistair said and she felt some pride in that statement. She was a problem to him - good.

She heard a cackle from the woman. "Surely you can take care of a child. You know if progress isn't made soon the Dark Lord will punish you accordingly."

She stilled now. The Dark Lord - that's exactly what the woman said, twice now. How did she not properly pick up on it the first time? She felt dread fill in her stomach, oh no, this was much worse than she ever thought of Alistair before. Her aunt had married a Death Eater, oh fuck.

This was fucked, entirely fucked, more fucked than it had been before. What was she going to do? Obviously, she had to tell Helen about this, she deserved to know, and hopefully they could get out of there quickly without any problems, maybe someone would help them hide out. Shit, fuck, this was not what she anticipated at all.

"Progress will be made, I assure you," he said, and Morgan began to back up. She needed to get out of there, needed to flee and leave, and hide in her room forever as she thought of an escape plan.

As she began to walk backwards, she heard a large creak beneath her. She stepped on the wrong floorboard. Almost instantly, the door swung open and Alistair was standing there. She flinched in fear, hoping that her posture or anything in her eyes didn't give away the fact that she had been listening in on them.

"Morgan," he addressed her, "What do you think you're doing?"

"Um, well I was heading to the kitchen to get a snack," she explained, her heart pounding in her chest, praying to Merlin that he believed her.

His eyes slit, "Two hours from dinnertime?"

"I'm hungry," she told him.

Alistair looked back at the woman in his office before closing the door and joining her in the hall, backing her against the wall. "I want you to listen to me very carefully and answer me truthfully now, what did you hear?"

"Nothing," she lied.

He grabbed her face harshly, pulling her so that their eyes met and her jaw began to ache at the force. "Don't lie to me, you insolent little girl," he gritted his teeth, "What did you hear?"

"You're a Death Eater," she answered honestly this time, fear spiking in her heart. "And - And you're using my aunt."

"And you are going to keep this information to yourself. If Helen catches a word about this from you, I suppose you'll just have to live with your aunt's death being on your hands for not keeping that dirty mouth of yours shut," Alistair explained to her in a low voice, deadly and calculating, leaving her even more afraid than before, "Do you understand me, Morgan?"

She swallowed, feeling tears prickle in her eyes. "I understand," she whispered back to him.

He stared at her for another moment before releasing her, though he didn't take a step back. "Good," he told her, patting her harshly on the shoulders before walking back into his office, leaving her shaking with fear.

Her eyes burned with tears, jaw practically bruised from his grip, and aching from everything. Something was going on, and she was too scared to find out anything more. When she calmed down enough, she went back to her room, hiding under her covers, and wishing more than ever to just be back home.