Dawns of Another Day
Barmy on Tuesdays
Luckily for me, I was brought back rather quickly. Too quickly to have had one of those near-death experiences muggles talk about occasionally on their medical T.V. shows. The mediwitch responsible for my surgery did not inform Draco of this, opting (wisely) to tell Harry, Hermione, Ron, Charlie, Kingsley, and the rest of the Weasley clan, who were also in St. Mungo's. If the energy had be present in me, I would have been upset knowing that so many strangers knew this personal bit of my life.
I slept for another six hours. Draco never left my side. I was later told that both the elder Malfoys were informed of their son's location, and allowed to visit (with Auror escorts). Both were, according to Harry, "very surprised to see you, to the point of crying (Aunt Cissa, I'm sure) and vomiting (Lucius. He gets ill when stunned.)" They stayed for some time, before being taken back to the retaining center set up earlier in the week for Death Eaters and their families. I was told that they were questioned as to my identity, and could only say something along the lines of "our houseguest—but she's not a Death Eater! Or related to one! Or anything like that!"
Obviously, some idiot asked Lucius for a quote.
Somehow, the Malfoy heir had been excused from the detaining process. Temporarily, at least. Ronald told me he feared that Draco never excused himself to use to restroom. I didn't believe him, for while Draco was unreasonably stubborn, he was also spoiled and would, as is the Slytherin way, put himself first. Or, after me, in this case.
I'm awake, but they don't know that. Pretending is much more convenient when trying to figure out what, exactly, the enemy wants. Though whether or not they were my enemies were, I have yet to find out .
"I dunno, mate. You sure she's trustworthy?"
Ah, Ronald. His simple way of thinking paired with his grammar made him a rather odd companion to Hermione and Harry. The third wheel to an otherwise brilliant pair. I did not necessarily dislike him, but the fellow never struck me as the kind I would ever willing spend much time with. Not unless I could buy those minutes of my life back.
"We have nothing that indicates she isn't." Kingsley's deep voice is soothing.
"She stunned you and Charlie!"
"Stunned, Ron." Hermione reminds him. "Stunned. She didn't hurt anyone, she was just scared."
"Hermione, she's barmy. She lived with Death Eaters for more than a year. Surely some of their ideal-thingies rubbed off on her. Lie with dogs, stand with fleas, what Mum says."
"That's not always true, Ron. If we're prejudice against her we're just as bad as them."
"It's not prejudice if it's for our own safety. She could be mad. I would be, if I lived with that lot."
Hermione won't back down. "We can't make any judgments until we talk to her more."
"You and Harry already tried!" He insists. "She wouldn't tell you anything."
"Can the two of you be quiet?" Harry finally breaks in quietly. "The doctors want her to sleep as much as possible."
They stopped arguing. At least, Hermione did, leaving Ron muttering under his breath. Kingsley murmurs a goodbye. Hermione follows him, saying she was going to check on one of their classmates.
"You know what I think?"
Potter's voice is dry. "I don't know Ron, there is no telling."
"Look at the evidence, Harry. No memory of her past or who she is. No last name. Powerful witch. Harry, I think she's…." He lowers his voice to add suspense. " A time traveler."
"You're barmy."
"No, really." Ron insists. "She's kept secret, special to You-Know-Who—"
"Voldemort."
"Eh. But think about it. There's no record of her…"
Harry lets out a weary sigh. "Ron, she could just as easily be on the records. She might've had a memory charm placed on her. There's no evidence that she's a time traveler."
"Harry, what if she's Ariana Dumbledore?"
"What?" Potter's voice is sharp. "She died Ron. Over a hundred years ago."
"What if she didn't, what if You-Know-Who brought her back for…something. Suppose he taught her to control her magic. And you even said she had eyes like Dumbledore. He must've—"
"Why would he do that? Ariana wasn't- She wasn't right in the head. She wasn't like Keturah. You're just throwing out crazing theories. What would Voldemort want with her, anyways?"
"I dunno. She was a Dumbledore."
Harry is quiet. The conversation is assumedly over. Until:
"Well, who do you think she is?"
Potter is silent for so long I thought maybe he was refusing to answer. "I…" he starts. "It's right mad, it is, but I almost though…she was, like, I dunno."
"C'mon mate."
"I dunno. Family, I guess. Maybe a cousin. Or…daughter?"
It's Ron's turn to be quiet. Then he breaks out in loud guffaws. "Ahahaha, mate that's-"
"Completely barmy. But the way everyone acted about her…it was like she was important in a different way. Something about her, her style of magic. She even looks like him a bit."
"What, skinny, pale and bald?"
"I meant like Riddle, before he changed. Don't you think?"
I hear Ron's laughter pause as he looks me over. "Yeah, I guess. Dark hair, and all that. But a lot of people look like that. You could be right. But Harry, that's almost as barmy as her being a Dumbledore. I mean, who would have a kid with him?"
Who, indeed?
XXXXXXX
When I officially woke, Draco was beside me. He was slumped in the god-awful vinyl hospital chair. The fluorescent lighting did nothing good to his complexion. The bags under his eyes were simply dreadful. His bruises were yellowing sickly, his cuts crusted. Some were a little infected.
I adore him for doing this. I admire him for standing this horrid place, rather than a comfortable retaining center. I respect him for his bravery, defying the Aurors even after his name has already been dragged through the mud. I love him for everything else.
"Malfoy," I call softly. Hearing my own voice, I cringe. It's gravelly from lack of use. "Malfoy…Draco!"
He starts, lurching forward. When he calms enough to realize that the Axis Powers are not attacking, he sees that I am awake. And then, without delay, he snogs me senseless.
"The mediwitchs tell me not to excite you too much. The strain might hurt you."
"Obviously you didn't listen very well. Or only well enough to quote them." I say wryly.
He grins cheekily. "I didn't care. And I don't think you did."
"No," I admit. "But we both know I'm no china doll."
He sits on my bed. I curl myself around him, sighing contently. There is nothing I could wake to that would make me happier. Except maybe…
"Harry suspects." I murmur against the hollow of this throat.
"Really?" his voice is lower than mine.
"Ron, however, is keener on the idea that I am the long-deceased sister of former Hogwarts Headmaster Albus Dumbledore."
"That one has never been known for his theories." Malfoy says in a matter-of-fact voice. "But I'm surprised Potty got closer to the truth."
"Not just close." I disagree. "He hit the mark, Draco."
Draco pulls back and blinks. "How?"
"I have no clue." I reply, disgruntled that he is no longer beside me.
"They will take you, Keturah."
"They can't. They won't."
"You said the same thing about your father." He huffs. I pull him back to me. "You lied."
I shrug, not particularly caring to delve into the subject at this moment. "I did for your peace of mind."
He frowns. This is truly bothering him. "I've never had peace of mind, Keturah, you know that. There was no point in sparing me."
"You git, I was being charitable."
"Riddle, you have the Potter syndrome: the unwanted hero."
"Not always unwanted." Harry says from the doorway, leaning against the threshold.
"Of course not," I agree. From the corner of my eye I see Draco's hands tighten, feel them squeeze my skin. He's lost the little colour the poor lighting allowed him. "You've been more than just a hero, I've heard, Potter. Savior, they're calling you."
I'm in no way mocking him. My tone is kind, understanding. I decided that the best course was through the smoothest waters. The waters of friendship, alliances.
"I'm nobody's savior." Harry smiles lightly. "I just did what any one of the other blokes would've."
"Not Draco, I'm afraid." I lift his hand up with mine. The picture perfect pair.
Did Potter hear? He doesn't appear to be shocked or disgruntled, or anything of that nature. Perhaps he did not. Still, I do not risk asking, instead I steer the conversation toward something less risky.
"When will I be able to leave?"
He shrugs. "In maybe two days. They're not entirely sure they stopped the bleeding, so you need to stay under observation."
"She wouldn't bloody be here in the first place if Granger had healed her right the first time." Draco ground out, speaking for the first time since Harry had made his appearance.
"Don't you—"
"Hermione did what she could." I cut Potter off. "She did her best, which is fine enough for me. Nobody could've stopped it, Draco."
Both men are silent, brooding from their separate sides of the room. Finally, Harry speaks up.
"Once you are released, where will you go?"
"I thought there were plans being made already. Retaining center, right?" I ask, eyebrows raised. "I stunned an Auror and fled a crime scene."
Harry shrugs again. "Nobody's too upset. But do you have any where to go?"
"I was hoping I could stay in the Riddle House." I say softly. "But, I suppose it's now Ministry property seeing as he's dead."
I don't say his name. I don't even say "The Dark Lord."
"Yes," Harry says. "I'm sorry, there's nothing I can do. As his former place of residence, they're going to search and possibly destroy it, if nobody buys it."
"You mean they're going to sell it?"
"Yeah, but nobody will buy it, I guarantee you."
I struggle to push myself up on the pillows. Then I'm left panting, but I look Potter straight in the eye. "I would. How long until they end the search?"
Potter is slightly taken aback by my declaration. He runs a hand through his already-messy jet locks. "I dunno. A week, maybe. If they don't find anything-"
"Which they won't." Father's voice is back in my head. "I left you that much, Keturah."
"—then they might put it on the market. But I really don't know about selling houses, and things."
"Oh, then," I say. "I might…I mean, if the price is reasonable…Draco?"
I look at the fair man lying beside me. He rolls his eyes. "If you need me to spot you the money, Keturah, you know I will."
"Thank you." I tell him and Potter and Father. "Thank you so much."
Halfway done! I'm going to finish chapter 12 tomorrow, and hopefully post it by Friday if I keep going at this rate.
Draco becomes the sugar daddy. Really, who didn't see that one coming?
I have to explain something about the dynamics of Keturah's relationship with her father. She does, for the most part, dislike him. He's done little to nothing for her, only entered her life when she was about 17 and treated her like a symbol more than a child. But she appreciates the things he did do for her and she understands he was not meant to be a father.
Thanks for the reviews, keep 'em coming. So, what country do you live in?
