Chapter Seven “ Just Between Sisters
After glancing around at the other people taking advantage of the lovely weather by eating outdoors, Morag nudged her sister’s elbow. “Be discrete, but look over there toward the harbor. Do you know who that is?” She nodded her head toward the table with two men seated there.
Maeve glanced in the direction her sister was looking. “I can’t say that I do.” She didn’t know the older man at all. The young man sitting with him was the one she had met in the library and gone walking with. She realized that although they had talked about many things, they had never exchanged names.
“Finish your soup; I want to get out of here!” Morag hissed nervously.
“Who are they?” Maeve asked quietly.
“I can’t say as I know who the older gent is, but the younger one is none other than Sirius Black!”
“Siri…”
“Hush!” Morag pleaded. “I don’t want to draw his attention. I just want to get out of here!”
Maeve smirked slightly. Her sisters’ entire demeanor suggested she was mortified to have run into her once intended husband. However, to keep peace between them, she finished her soup and tucked some Muggle money under the edge of the bowl to pay for their lunch.
“Fine, let’s go. But I still want to stop by the library,” Maeve told her sister firmly. She still had not had a chance to look over the newest batch of books.
“I don’t care where we go. I just want to get out of here!”
They made their escape unobtrusively. Once they were out of sight from the Lodge, Morag actually started to relax and slowed her rapid pace. “I wonder what he was doing there?”
“Didn’t you know?” Maeve asked. “The Blackwaterfoot Lodge is owned by a witch and wizard. They have a special drawing room with Floo access.”
Morag gaped at her sister. “How do you know these things?”
Maeve shrugged. “I think mother mentioned it once.”
“Do you think he came for the betrothal? Do you think I’ll be betrothed to him as I was supposed to be?”
“After the formal invitations went out with his brother’s name? Perhaps he was meeting his brother or some other family member for the ceremony,” Maeve suggested, hoping she was right. If it were true that the young man she had spent the day with was truly Sirius Black, she couldn’t imagine anyone who would be more ill suited to be her sister’s husband. They would make each other miserable. He was roguish, carefree, and had a sense of fun her sister would never appreciate. Oh, Morag would appreciate his looks, but his manner would put her off from the start. Morag needed someone a bit more serious. Maeve had to smile at the play on words.
“What are you smirking at?” Morag demanded.
“Nothing in particular,” Maeve replied steadily. “I was just wondering how you know what Sirius Black looks like, but you don’t know what his brother looks like.”
“He’s in my year, isn’t he?” Morag sniffed. “I found the betrothal document years ago, of course I made it my business to find out what he looked like. Why would I bother finding out about his brother?”
“It seems you should have been a bit more curious,” Maeve observed. “I wouldn’t worry too much, that Sirius Black is a nice enough looking fellow. We both know what their grandfather looks like, and he’s handsome enough, Regulus has a fair chance at being a nice looking chap.”
A greedy smile curled Morags’ lips. “That’s true. I would still like to know what Regulus looks like though.”
“You’ll find out next week, won’t you?”
The smile faded. “I suppose I will.”
Maeve wrapped an arm around her sisters shoulders and said consolingly, “Don’t worry; I’m sure he’s a handsome bloke.”
“I hope so,” Morag whispered bleakly. “What will I do if I am getting myself saddled to a troll?”
Maeve forced herself to giggle and teased, “What if he doesn’t like the way you look?”
“Why wouldn’t he?” Morag demanded in mock outrage. She shrugged her sisters’ arm away and lightly swatted her. “I am the better looking sister after all!”
“How can you say that when you know that I am the more nubile of the two of us?” Maeve gasped, with a grin tugging the corners of her mouth.
“I am the one with normal colored hair, not that orangey-carrot color you sport!” Morag teased.
“Carrot?!” Maeve snorted. “A carrot might describe your nose, but not my hair!” She smoothed her curls over her shoulders and grinned, knowing she had distracted her sister from another tirade.
“My nose does not look like a carrot!” Morag exclaimed with ardent indignation. “My nose is just fine!”
“Oh alright! Your nose is beautiful. It’s just the rest that could use some work!” Maeve giggled. She skipped ahead a few steps and turned to smirk at her sister’s silence.
Morag eyed her sister for a long moment, as if considering what to say next. “Perhaps you would look better with a few less of those carroty-colored curls!” She crooked her fingers into claws and began to stalk toward her sister.
Maeve, giggling uncontrollably, backed away slowly. “I like my curls just where they are.”
“Then I suggest you admit who is the better looking sister!” Morag warned with mock outrage.
Maeve fell to her knees. “Please forgive me sister!” she exclaimed loudly, “You are the better looking of the two of us. Your brown locks far outshine my own!”
Morag straightened her stance and grinned. “It’s about time you admitted it!” She reached out a hand to help her sister to her feet.
“Anything to keep my curls,” Maeve said laughingly.
“As if I’d do anything to your curls,” Morag scoffed. “Mother would scalp me! Then how would I look for the betrothal? Regulus would probably Disapparate in sheer fright!”
Maeve nodded in agreement. “Even if he is too young to do so legally.”
“Oh, don’t remind me!”
“Morag, stop worrying. Everything will work out for the best. Even if you go through with the betrothal, if the two of you don’t suit, you don’t have to marry for years. I’m sure we could figure a way out of it for you.”
“How?”
“Well, you could go through with the ceremony and then lock him away somewhere,” Maeve teased.
“There’s the ticket!” Morag agreed sarcastically. “A husband in the closet. Just what every woman wants.”
“You could always put a bag over his head.” Maeve chortled.
“Blindfolds do work wonders, don’t they?” Morag suggested.
“See, all you had to do was to think about it from a different angle.”
“I suppose you’re right. Let’s get to the library so you can find yourself a book. Then we can need to get home. Mother wants us to get our dress robes fitted this afternoon.”
“We could always ask the seamstress if she has any scraps for blindfolds.”
“Funny, very bloody funny.”
“I try, sister. I try.” Maeve teased lightly.
OoOoO
As always, special thanks to all my readers and extra special thanks to my reviewers.
Kerichi, you get extra extra special thanks for not only reading and reviewing but for being the best beta in the world and listening to me wail when writers block tried to set in!