Chapter 46
5 February, 1959 Watermead, Aylesbury
Dorcas rubbed at the cramped muscle in her neck.
This was what came from sleeping on the sofa in her office. For two weeks now, Dorcas had avoided occupying the bed she shared with Cal. If he thought anything of this change in sleeping arrangements, he kept it to himself.
She always used the pretense of working on her altered memories late into the night. So far, Cal had not objected or tried to persuade her otherwise.
At the moment, she had mindless work to keep her fingers busy. If only she had a similar distraction for her mind. She kept returning to the uncomfortable realization that Jonas's wedding to Cherry would likely mean Gemma would be there.
Dorcas swallowed.
Wherever Gemma was, lately, there Tom seemed to be as well.
"I understand family taking precedence over friends. Jonas choosing Dorcas to be his best man, while unconventional, makes sense," Anneliese said as she wound florist's tape around a crown of silk flower stems. "But to have Cal as your maid of honor, Cherry. It's insulting!"
Cherry smiled patiently. She'd been bracing for Anneliese's reaction to the news of her choice.
"You and Beau will be bridesmaid and usher. Your son will be a ring bearer. It'll be sweet!"
Dorcas could feel the waves of anger rolling off of Anneliese.
In a way, Dorcas was grateful to Cherry for creating this little drama. It distracted Anneliese from making any sideways comments about Dorcas's parenting. She and Anneliese had spoken very little since the showdown over Dorcas's youngest and there was a tense armistice between them at the moment.
"You were my maid of honor, Cher," Anneliese pouted.
Cherry kept her eyes on the guest list she was checking. "And Dorcas didn't have a maid of honor. See, you get it!" she encouraged. "We all have very different visions for our big day."
Dorcas ducked her head at the mention of her name. She kept her eyes glued to the little Cupid figurine she was sticking into a silk flower centerpiece.
While Anneliese was like a dog with a bone about being passed over as head bridesmaid for a man, she'd been very diplomatic about the tacky decorations.
Pink and red silk flowers–not fresh! And horrid little gold and silver Cupids everywhere.
Either Anneliese was too distracted by this recent slight, or she was becoming evolved in her level of tolerance for Cherry's garish inclinations.
"Is that the guest list?" Dorcas asked. She'd decided, while Cherry was doing a credible job of fending Anneliese off, it was time to change the subject.
"Yes, it is. Mostly yeses. A few nos."
Dorcas cleared her throat.
"Did the two of you decide to invite Gemma after the engagement party brouhaha?"
Cherry nodded. "We decided that family's family. At the end of the day I think Jonas will regret not having his sister there."
Dorcas raised her eyebrows and glanced up from the Cupid. "And you seriously think she's going to play the adoring sister and give her blessing?"
Snorting, Cherry shook her head. "No. But it'll be a memorable occasion for my guests to watch me beat her into the ground for a second time if she thinks of trying anything."
"Has she returned her RSVP?" Dorcas pried.
Cherry ran a finger down the list. Dorcas held her breath.
"Not yet."
Dorcas exhaled.
"Can I make a request?"
Cherry shrugged. "Sure."
"That she be forbidden from bringing a plus one?"
A significant look passed between her and Cherry. In her periphery, she noticed Anneliese glancing between the two of them. Left out of the unspoken conversation.
"Consider it done."
:::
27 October, 1941 Muggle Studies Classroom, First Floor, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Dorcas was early to the meeting Cherry had called to plan the Muggle Studies Club dance. In fact, she was the only one in the silent classroom.
She indulged in a temptation that she rarely allowed herself when she was anywhere that another student could happen upon her suddenly. She pulled a letter out of her pocket.
It was from Jack. She'd just received it this morning and quickly scanned its contents while huddled in a cubicle in the girl's toilets before Arithmancy.
Now she clandestinely read it for a second time while holding it in her lap under the table.
Darling Dorcas,
I wish I could see what my reflection would bring about in that magic mirror. I believe it would be the exact vision that the mirror conjures for you. What a precious gift that enchanted school has given you! When you are lonely and missing me, you can look at it and be reminded of the future we still have ahead of us! I will have to content myself with your letters and your beguiling photograph.
I have to say that I am disappointed that some elements of the school are as mundane as you described. Regular old plumbing? Pipes and pumps and no magic at all? I can hardly believe that a school with moving staircases has such ordinary inner workings! I wanted to believe that the castle had some enchanted wastewater system involving a hobgoblin in a secret lair.
There is as much sand as you might guess here in Egypt. I haven't had the pleasure of riding a camel yet. I wonder if there is any difference to riding a horse? I will report back on my experience.
Missing you loads! Wishing I could kiss your sweet lips!
Yours always,
Jack
Dorcas read the second paragraph twice more. Two words jumped out at her during both subsequent readings: secret lair.
She couldn't get the faucet with the curious snake marking out of her mind.
"But Christmas is ever so far away!" Cherry's whine preceded her into the room.
Hurriedly, Dorcas shoved the letter back into her skirt pocket. Turning in her seat, she spotted Cherry and Anneliese bickering.
"But Halloween is so close we'll have no time to prepare!" Anneliese argued.
"I adore the idea of a costumed dance! We have time to pull it off!" Cherry sat and glanced at Dorcas. "Tell her, Dory!"
"Tell her what?" Dorcas asked, struggling to focus on the argument.
"That a Halloween dance is possible."
"In four days, Cherry?" Anneliese countered.
Dorcas knew Anneliese had a point. Four days was a narrow window to coordinate advertising, and music, and food, and entertainment. If the club was already established, it might work. But this was supposed to be a kick-off event.
"Four days is not a lot of time, Cherry," Dorcas admitted.
"Sorry I'm late, girls!" Professor Hill singsonged, removing her cloak which was soaked. "My turn for corridor patrol tonight, unfortunately."
"I wasn't aware they required you to patrol the grounds, too!" Anneliese cried indignantly, taking in her Head of House's bedraggled state.
Dorcas had never met Professor Hill, but thought she looked open and friendly. She always shunned the traditional teaching habit of robes for a smart tailored suit. Tonight's ensemble was a forest green jacket and skirt that set off her red hair elegantly.
"Oh, no! Not the grounds, too!" Professor Hill laughed. "I only ran into Peeves, who was kind enough to douse me in a bucket of cold water."
"That ghost is a menace!" huffed Cherry.
The sodden professor sat in the vacant seat next to Anneliese.
"It's all in good fun!" She defended the poltergeist. "I can't imagine it's very exciting floating around without a thing to occupy you. Must make your fun where you can." She noticed Dorcas. "Hello there, dear!"
"Professor, this is Dorcas Clerey. She's lived among Muggles and came up with the dance idea," Cherry said by way of introduction.
"Dorcas Clerey, hey? You were the first ever to escape the clutches of Stringent Swyryn. I'm impressed!"
Dorcas blushed at the praise.
"Professor Hill! Professor Swyryn is only trying to help us girls to make a success of our future," disputed Anneliese.
"She's an old fraud!" Professor Hill laughed at Anneliese's stricken expression. "Writes the book on maintaining the perfect home, the perfect family, the perfect husband. Does she have any of those things? No. If you ask me, she should stop focusing on being so perfect and just teach the practical things. None of the happy housewitch dogma."
Dorcas was liking the Muggle Studies teacher more with every word that came out of her mouth.
"Shall we plan a dance?"
"Yes, professor," replied Anneliese. "But we're having a bit of a disagreement about the date. Cherry wants a Halloween dance and I think we'd have better luck choosing a date that's not so soon, perhaps Christmas."
"What do you think, Dorcas?" Hill asked, turning to her.
Dorcas felt Anneliese's and Cherry's eyes on her, burning her skin.
"Well, it's meant to be an inaugural event for the club. The further we push it back, the more we delay the club's start. But four days doesn't give us a lot of time."
"Why shouldn't four days be enough time?" the professor asked, looking at each girl around the table.
"Well, how will we recruit enough people to make the event worthwhile in four days?" Anneliese objected.
Hill shrugged her shoulders and pushed some damp hair out of her face. "This is a school, dear, full of hormonal teenagers. Advertising and recruiting won't be necessary!"
Anneliese looked unconvinced.
"And music and refreshments can be arranged in four days?" she asked, skeptically.
"Well, I play the piano," the professor offered. "And the Hogwarts house elves live for a good down-to-the-wire challenge."
"You play the piano?" Dorcas inquired, her ears pricking up and her heart fluttering hopefully.
She missed her piano at home desperately.
"Do I sense another musician in our midst?" Hill paused.
"Yes!"
"Well, I look forward to hearing you at the Halloween dance, my dear." She clapped her hands together. "That's all tickety-boo, then!"
Professor Hill pushed back from the table and stood.
"Now, ladies, I leave the details to you. There's a steaming bath in my chambers that's calling my name!"
Dorcas watched her exit with a growing appreciation for the Muggle Studies teacher. She had such an upbeat and lively personality. What must her classes be like?
Seconds after the professor's departure, Tom barged into the classroom.
"Tom!" Cherry cried, perking up. "Have you reconsidered joining the Muggle Studies Club?"
Tom furrowed his brow at Cherry's loud and bright address.
"No."
Cherry's shoulders slumped. "The one that got away!" she lamented.
"Maybe I'll let you catch me one day," he returned with a wink. He turned to Dorcas. "Do you have a moment? Am I interrupting?"
Dorcas was about to open her mouth to answer that she was in the middle of something and to ask if she could talk to him later.
"You go on, Dory," Anneliese interrupted her. "We'll finish up here."
Dorcas looked from Cherry to Anneliese and saw some silent communication pass between them. She was reminded of the conversation she'd had over the summer with Anneliese about Cherry's futile dream of getting Dorcas and Cal together. Cherry glared at Anneliese.
"Well, alright. If you're sure," Dorcas hedged.
Cherry seemed ready to object. But Anneliese spoke up first.
"Yes, we only have minor things to decide, really," Anneliese said.
Dorcas slid her chair back, Tom helping her impatiently. He grabbed her bag up off of the ground and turned to leave. Dorcas had no choice but to follow in his wake.
"Cherry tried to enlist you in her club?" Dorcas asked, a little amused at the idea.
Tom smirked. "Yeah. She barreled into me outside of the library and said, "Ever wonder how a car goes?""
Dorcas laughed at his impression of Cherry.
"What did you say?"
"I replied, "Petrol and a combustion engine." Her eyes got all shiny and then she asked if I'd like to share my knowledge of automobiles with the Muggle Studies Club. I politely declined."
"Well, it's not for everyone," Dorcas responded, clasping her arms behind her back as they walked. "Where are we going?"
"I wanted to talk to you about my plans for obtaining mercury," Tom said, dropping his voice low. "Shall we go to the secret room?"
Dorcas suddenly remembered the hunch she'd had earlier when rereading Jack's letter.
"Mind if we make a pitstop first?" she asked as they climbed a flight of stairs.
Tom shrugged, his hands placed casually in his pockets.
Dorcas stopped outside of the girl's lavatory on the second floor. She pushed the door open and bent to scan under the cubicles for stray pairs of legs. She was alone.
When Dorcas turned to address Tom, she realized he wasn't there.
Popping back into the hall she hissed, "Why are you just standing there?"
Tom looked confused. "I don't customarily follow girls into the loo."
"I'm not having a wee, idiot! I want to show you something."
Tom's eyes flashed darkly for a moment and then he smiled and pushed off of the wall he was leaning against.
Once inside, Dorcas hurried toward the sink with the curious marking on its faucet.
"Ever seen that before?"
Tom's voice was dry and sarcastic. "I've never been in the girl's lav before, Birdie. No."
Dorcas stared at him. "So none of the sinks in the Slytherin dorms have this marking?"
Tom bent to get a closer look. He paused.
"No."
"I think Corvinus Gaunt made this marking."
Tom rolled his eyes.
Dorcas stepped closer to him, eager to make her point.
"No, hear me out, Tom!" she implored. "We know Corvinus Gaunt was at the school in 1795. The last ever Triwizard Tournament was held only three years earlier. All events had to be held out of doors because the school was installing plumbing. I'm assuming Gaunt was a Slytherin...the snake..."
"Plumbing?" Tom asked slowly.
"Yes! I think Gaunt used the plumbing to conceal the chamber."
Tom looked at the structure of the sink, scanned the wall it was attached to, stood directly in front of the mirror.
"If this is its entrance, how does it open?" Tom asked.
Dorcas's heart rate sped up. She could tell he was coming around to her way of thinking.
She began to pace.
"It can't be obvious, the opening. Can it?" she said as she paced. "I mean, how many girls look into that mirror on a daily basis? Turn that faucet on and off?"
Tom dropped her bag that was hanging from his shoulder and knelt to look under the sink, checking how the plumbing attached to it before disappearing into the wall.
He stood once more, dragging his fingers through his hair. When he mussed it like that, Dorcas found him incredibly attractive. She was reminded of his older half-brother, causing her to blush furiously.
"You may be right, Birdie," he said distractedly, eying the sink. "I'll have to think about it for a little while."
His eyes flicked to the mirror, where he caught her in the reflection, staring at him and coloring to her hairline. The corner of his mouth quirked up.
"You're brilliant, Birdie!" he said, turning from her reflection to look at her. "But don't ever call me an idiot again."
"Sorry, Tom," Dorcas murmured.
:::
10 February, 1959 Watermead, Aylesbury
Dorcas walked through the front door of her house, past Cal who silently held the door open for her.
She was exhausted.
She hadn't done anything more than Apparate to St. Mungo's, sat perfectly still while Healer Crawford performed a scan of her brain and then studied it like a work of Surrealist art in a gallery. Cal making comments every so often as he did.
She sat quietly and endured the two men talking about the size of this shadow or the length of a certain scar.
"I think one or two of them might be smaller," Healer Crawford had said, one hand on his hip, the other highlighting a "promising area" with his wand.
"We need to uncover these two or three right here," Cal replied, circling the biggest and most threatening scars with his index finger.
Dorcas had nothing to contribute. She was muzzled by the futility of it. Hadn't Tom won already? What was the point of trying to reverse decades of damage?
She felt completely drained at the thought of dredging up one more detail of her past that would haunt her. When she thought back on her years at Hogwarts, she couldn't be sure what was fact and what was fiction. Tom had robbed her past and plundered her present. And, as she stared at the scan of her brain, she realized he'd stolen her future as well. If the damage he'd done didn't outright kill her, it definitely sidelined her from the work that had given her life meaning.
The realization made her numb and distant.
Both Cal and Healer Crawford's voices became a low din and she found her eyesight coming up short of focusing on the scan, instead, resting on the empty space just in front of it.
"I thought you would have had more to contribute," Cal said, shutting the door and removing his coat.
Don't do this, Cal, Dorcas thought.
All she wanted was a Sleeping Draught and the couch in her office. She longed for oblivion. She craved that elusive Shangri La where she collapsed straight into a deep, dreamless sleep, allowing hours of her day to slip by when she was not conscious of Tom's constant hold over her mind and body.
"Well, I don't," she quipped, shrugging off her own coat and letting it drop to the floor.
She opened her office door and immediately felt the pull of the potion and the promise of sleep.
Dorcas closed the door, but didn't hear the connection it should have made with the catch in the jamb. Instead, she heard Cal's hand stopping its progress from slamming in his face.
The bang it made, though not loud, was enough to make her jump. But she immediately took a breath and willed herself into a calm indifference.
"Nothing? I thought you've been in here working, tracking down the other altered memories, Dorcas. You've found one. That's hardly progress!"
She rounded on him, her instinct to push back, to fight, rising uncontrollably in her.
"Cal, it's slow work! Just because I haven't found anything doesn't mean I haven't been looking!"
She glared at him as he stood resolutely in the doorway.
"Are you doing this to punish me?" Cal asked, his voice was low but harsh.
"Punish you?" Dorcas could feel her stare becoming cold as it fixed on Cal.
He crossed his arms a little defensively, but remained a solid barrier in the doorway, making it impossible to escape him.
Dorcas pushed the terror down. Had she given him a challenge question today? She couldn't remember.
The thought that was always present in the back of her mind became louder, more insistent. It was Tom's voice. I want you to know, I can get to you anytime, anywhere.
"Yes," Cal answered. "Is this your way of getting back at me for leaving?"
Dorcas laughed. It was a cruel, harsh laugh that was almost a scream.
"Get back at you for leaving? Ignore the kill switch in my brain because it could somehow be used as payback for you walking out? Listen to yourself! You're ridiculous!"
Intellectually, she knew it wasn't Tom in her husband's skin again. And yet, her instinct to lash out and to wound him was overwhelming.
She watched him struggle to choose his words carefully.
She wasn't inclined to be so generous.
"And I'm not forcing you to stay. You can leave whenever you want!"
He stood there like an impediment.
"Why are you mad at me?" He stared at her.
Dorcas felt fidgety and uncomfortable, like she couldn't bear to move or to stay still.
He didn't wait for her response.
"I didn't kiss my ex. I didn't let another woman put her hands all over me. I didn't hurt you, Dorcas! You hurt me. But the way you're looking at me now makes me feel like I did something wrong. Like I'm the one that needs to apologize."
Dorcas felt the numbness in her limbs seep further. She felt it creep over her ribs and clutch her heart.
She shrugged. "I already apologized for the kiss. Accept it. Or don't. I don't care."
Cal stepped back a pace as if pushed. He blinked like he was trying to clear his vision after being struck.
"You don't care?" he repeated, softly. His voice was hollow as if the air had been knocked out of his lungs.
Dorcas moved over to the couch and kicked her shoes off.
"Cal, I'm tired. Can we do this later?" she asked, wishing she could say anything to make him leave.
"I'll go get Wren from school. Is there anything you need?"
She could hear a hitch in his voice, the outward sign of an inner wound–one she'd carelessly inflicted.
"No." She'd meant to sound conciliatory. It came out harsh and impatient.
Dorcas closed her eyes so that she didn't have to see the hurt on his face as he retreated from the room.
:::
30 October, 1941 Arithmancy Classroom, Fifth Floor, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Dorcas took her seat next to Cal.
Even though he was bigger than her, he graciously occupied the middle of their bench, trading places with her like she'd asked him to.
She always felt a twinge of guilt when he had to apologize to her or Clay for bumping them with his elbow.
He did it uncomplainingly because she'd asked. And he never inquired as to the necessity of the change. He was a good friend.
The seating arrangement helped with Clay's wandering hands, but did nothing to block Dorcas from hearing his lurid daydreams.
Mohit and Tom walked past and took their seats. Mohit waved to her as he did.
"Everything ready for the dance tomorrow night?" Cal asked conversationally.
Dorcas watched as Reina Morelos joined Tom and Mohit a moment later. Tom slipped from the bench to allow her to sit between him and Mohit. Dorcas noticed how Reina's small frame occupied the middle seat more comfortably. She leaned toward Tom's shoulder and spoke low to him. He responded by bending his head toward her.
Dorcas tamped down a jealous sensation that began to rise in her. She reminded herself that she had no claim over Tom.
"Clerey?"
Cal tapped the back of her hand gently.
"Huh?" Dorcas asked inelegantly, drawing her eyes back to her partner.
"I asked if you, Anneliese, and Cherry had the dance all sorted."
"Nearly," she replied.
Cal smiled.
"It's all anyone's talking about. I think it's going to be a big success."
"I hope you're right."
Dorcas was nervous about performing.
She'd been eager to accept Professor Hill's invitation because she missed her piano. But to play in front of a crowd was another story. She'd only been on stage a couple of times back at the Black Dahlia in London. But that was performing for strangers. This was different.
"Are you going with anyone?" Cal inquired.
Dorcas looked at Cal in surprise. He was going to ask her to accompany him.
She found that the prospect of spending the night in Cal's company, dancing with him, was a very agreeable one. With the person she'd most like to go with on a different continent, Cal seemed to be a more than suitable alternative. As long as he understood that they were just going as friends.
She couldn't help the straightening of her spine as she anticipated his next question.
"No, I'm–"
Dorcas was interrupted by a tap on her shoulder. She turned and found Clay Atwood's torso at eye level in her space.
"Move down, would you?" he commanded. He nudged her shoulder.
"Go around, Atwood. You can sit on this side," Cal replied.
Clay huffed. "Just shift down," he demanded impatiently. He nudged Dorcas again.
"Take it easy, Clay," Cal growled.
Professor Lin came into the room, her eyes finding the three of them.
Dorcas turned to Cal. "It's fine, Cal. Just move down."
Cal did as she asked and Clay took the seat to her left. At least, sitting on this side, he couldn't accidentally brush his hand against hers as she tried to take notes. She kept her left hand firmly in her lap.
The Arithmancy professor tapped the blackboard with her wand and a diagram appeared.
Dorcas grabbed her quill and began to copy it. She saw Cal do the same to her right.
To her left, Clay plunged his hand into his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. He placed it on the desktop beside Dorcas's notes.
She eyed it wordlessly.
He wanted her to open it.
She didn't need to. She could tell from his thoughts that it contained a single question.
Will you go to the dance with me?
She ignored the offering.
"Dorcas," Clay whispered.
"Shh!"
Dorcas hissed at him to be quiet, her quill scratching away what she hoped was an unspoken demand to leave her be.
Clay didn't attempt to keep up with the lecture, or bother to take notes. Instead, he rested his hand on the bench between them.
Her eyes flicked to the note at intervals, as if she expected it to disappear at some point when she looked away, disappointed to see it hadn't when her gaze returned to it.
When Professor Lin concluded her lecture and broke them into groups, Cal spent the next ten minutes explaining to Clay what Lin had spent her lecture conveying. Dorcas leaned against the seat back to give Cal an unimpeded view of their partner. She was beginning to realize that Clay rarely paid attention to the teacher's instructions and relied on Cal to do most of the work for their team.
Cal never rebuked Clay for being unprepared or lazy. Dorcas marveled at his patience.
She had less patience and turned away from him once Cal had finished his explanation of a particular formula. She was eager to get on with the lesson before the professor made her way from the back of the classroom to check their progress.
"I was paying attention," Dorcas said pointedly. "You and I can practice if Clay's not interested."
While she and Cal worked, Clay twirled his quill in his fingers and looked on. Every once in a while, he would use the feather of the quill to nudge the folded paper closer to Dorcas.
In a movement that she cloaked as straightening her notes, she swept the piece of paper to the floor and turned her back to him.
She felt him shift on the bench beside her to retrieve the discarded question.
Then she felt the brush of a feather tracing up her calf, behind her knee, and higher. She kicked backward blindly with her foot and caught him in the shin.
He grunted and laughed as he straightened.
In his thoughts, Dorcas heard his approval of her actions. I like them feisty, he thought.
Dorcas ticked down the minutes until the end of the class. She would push Cal out of his seat or climb over him if she had to. Sitting next to Clay Atwood gave her the creeps.
Professor Lin ended class by calling Cal over to her desk, making her getaway easier. Dorcas packed her bag hastily and slipped out after Cal, feeling less bothered by Clay with the furniture between them.
"See you at tutoring?" Cal cast over his shoulder before turning to see what the professor wanted.
"Yeah," Dorcas said, rushing away down the aisle, keeping Clay in her periphery as he stalked down the opposite aisle, a row of desks between them.
"Clerey," Mohit called from behind her.
He'd peeled off from his partners and was jogging up the row to catch her.
"Hi, Mohit," Dorcas greeted her housemate distractedly.
She didn't want to be rude, but a fast exit was the name of the game. She sped up her pace. She wanted to get to the classroom door before Clay did.
"I was wondering if you'd be interested in going to the dance with me tomorrow night? As friends, of course," Mohit asked.
This brought Dorcas up short.
She thought he'd want to chat about an assignment or the morning's lecture. Their conversations, few as they'd been, had always been at surface level and lightly academic. Except for the time at the breakfast table when Mohit had implied that her Uncle Morty was a halfwit.
"Dorcas," Clay said, coming up level with her and Mohit.
She felt her skin crawl when he placed a hand on her shoulder.
Dorcas turned to Mohit, feeling like a panicked rabbit trying to escape a snare.
"Alright."
"Really?" Mohit brightened and clapped his hands together excitedly. "I'll pick you up at eight o'clock in the common room."
Dorcas nodded without hearing him, adjusting her bag, swinging it wide and hitting Clay in the hip with it as she did.
:::
10 February, 1959 Watermead, Aylesbury
Dorcas managed a few hours of sleep with the help of the potion.
When she awakened, the conversation she'd had with Cal flooded back.
Had she really told him she didn't care whether he forgave her for kissing Tom or not?
A chill crept down her spine.
She slipped her shoes back onto her feet in a rush and flung her office door open. The house was dark and silent.
If he'd packed his stuff and left again, would he have taken Wren with him this time? Or–the next thought caused her heart to race–was she mistaken in her certainty that it was Cal, and Tom had taken her child?
She paced the length of her sitting room trying to figure out what to do next.
When the front door opened in the following instant, Dorcas paced right into an end table, cracking her knee and toppling a vase of flowers.
Cal entered with Wren and Dorcas felt relief wash over her. But it was immediately replaced with anger.
"What do you mean by taking my daughter and disappearing?" she asked, her voice notching up several octaves.
She knew immediately that this was not the right thing to say, not the right tone. But so much about her interactions with her husband had been off since his return that she didn't bother to apologize.
"Disappear? Dorcas, we went for a walk and built a snowman. She had a lot of energy to burn off and I didn't want her to wake you," Cal explained.
He bent to unzip Wren's coat, keeping his eyes on the work he was doing in order to give Dorcas the opportunity to catch her breath.
She stooped, drawing her wand and cleaned up the spilled flowers.
When Wren was unburdened from her coat and snow boots, Cal encouraged her to go find her kitten and play in her room.
Dorcas searched her mind for something to say to Cal.
"Do you remember when Ryann was around that age? We were in Devon and we couldn't find her?"
Cal was kicking off his own shoes and shrugging off his coat.
"Yes. She thought she was playing hide and seek with us in the apple orchard. We were frantic."
Dorcas's shoulder muscles relaxed as he answered.
Cal's eyes narrowed. "But Wren wasn't lost, Dorcas. She was with me. Did you think I left again and took Wren with me this time?"
Dorcas hadn't meant to suggest it, but yes, that's exactly what she thought. One of the possibilities she imagined. But it was just her way of reassuring herself that this was her husband and not Tom using Polyjuice Potion to fool her again.
"Dorcas, I don't feel like I understand you lately. It's as if from the moment I found out about that kiss between you and Tom, you've been a different person. Do you really think I would take your child from you and leave you without a word?"
She understood what Cal meant. She felt the same way. She didn't know herself anymore either.
"I didn't know what to think," Dorcas admitted, setting the vase and flowers back on the table.
Cal moved from the entryway into the sitting room.
Dorcas felt herself back away from him before she knew what her feet were doing.
Cal watched her retreat from him and paused midstep.
"Can we go into the bedroom and talk? I'd like to understand what's going on."
Dorcas shook her head. "Let's go to my office," she offered instead.
She wouldn't go in that room. She'd been waiting until Cal was distracted, in the shower, out of the house, to Accio her clothes and toiletries out of the closet and bathroom they shared. She had a growing pile of things shoved into the corner of her office. She'd used the girl's shower and toilet so that she didn't have to enter her bedroom.
She let Cal go ahead of her. She wouldn't let him stand in the doorway and trap her again.
Cal moved into the room and sat on the couch. He glanced at her stacks of clothing in the corner, her toothbrush, make up, and hairspray on a shelf that used to hold a picture of her and the MACUSA president (now packed away with the rest of her old life).
"Sit down, Dorcas," Cal commanded.
The tone reminded her of another person who spoke to her from behind a mask that looked like Cal. A tremble settled into her limbs that she couldn't quite master.
This is Cal, not Tom, Dorcas reminded herself.
Dorcas chose her chair across from the couch. It was closer to the door.
"Why did you think I left again and took Wren with me?" Cal's voice was calmer, his gaze trained on her in an uncomfortably direct way.
Dorcas pulled her cardigan tightly around her and crossed her arms defensively.
"Because I said I don't care if you accept my apology or not," Dorcas replied. "I do care, Cal. I just don't know how to move past it."
"I don't know either. But I'm not leaving again. That is something you can be sure of. I've told you before, love is a choice and I choose you, Dorcas. I will always choose you."
And what if someone else took that choice away from you? Dorcas wanted to counter. But she wasn't ready to unleash the full, awful, devastating truth that she was holding onto. She was sure that if she was ever brave enough to tell Call all that had happened in his absence, it would be the end of their marriage.
And maybe it was reaching the end of its lifespan already, but that truth would finish it off.
Dorcas could tell Cal was waiting for her to say something. She didn't know what.
"Why?" she heard herself ask hollowly.
Cal blinked. He wasn't expecting that.
"Why? Because ever since the moment I met you I knew I wanted to marry you someday. I knew that there was no one else for me in the world but you."
Dorcas sat with this for a moment. He'd said this all before. Dorcas wondered how much of it was true. Cal was a very sincere person, but knowing something with such certainty...she couldn't identify with that. She had no frame of reference for wanting something so strongly despite all of the obstacles in the way.
There was a long pause.
"I owe you an apology, too," Cal said, breaking Dorcas's inner reckoning.
She felt her brow furrow. She was confused.
"For what?"
"For pushing you with your memories. I know you're working as hard as you can. I could be more helpful and more supportive. I'm just so afraid of losing you, Dorcas. I don't know what to do to keep you safe from the damage in your brain. It makes me feel completely helpless and I lashed out at you."
Dorcas stared at him.
Cal continued. "It was stupid to suggest that you were withholding your own treatment to punish me. I don't know what I was thinking."
Though she felt backed into a corner at the time, she'd forgotten about that comment.
"You're not wrong about me avoiding my memories," she admitted.
Cal leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees, clasping his hands before him.
"Why are you avoiding them?"
Dorcas felt her pulse quickening, tears prickling at the corners of her eyes.
"Because I'm afraid of them."
Cal exhaled. "I know, sweetheart. The one that you uncovered already is awful. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't afraid for you. But the past can't hurt you. You told me that, remember?"
Dorcas straightened in her chair as Cal stood and stepped around the coffee table toward her.
She jumped quickly to her feet and placed the chair between them.
"I'd like to be alone now," she said, trying to keep the tremor from her voice.
Cal looked like he wanted to argue, or insist on touching her or holding her. The idea of him putting his hands on her frightened her. She tried to remind herself that this was not Tom. That Cal would not hurt her.
"I'll go check on Wren," Cal said instead.
:::
31 October, 1941 Third Year Girls' Dormitory, Gryffindor Tower, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Cherry pinned a pair of wings to Dorcas's black cocktail dress (once Betty's black cocktail dress).
Dorcas peered into the mirror next to Cherry's bed. She would not have chosen the bright Monarch butterfly wings for herself, but bit her lip and smiled at her reflection. She knew Cherry had put a lot of effort into making them for her.
"Your shoes," Cherry said, taking her wand and pointing them at Dorcas's plain black pumps.
"What's wrong with them?"
"Nothing. I just want to tie your look together."
"My look?" Dorcas asked.
What was wrong with showing up to a Halloween dance in a black dress and black shoes? She wasn't planning on wearing an elaborate costume. But Cherry had other plans.
Cherry changed them to mirror the pattern of black, yellow, and orange of her wings.
In Cherry's mind she groused about making an effort for no reason. She knew that Cherry was bitter that she'd accepted Mohit's invitation to go to the dance with him before Cal had a chance to ask her. Apparently, Cherry had spent most of Thursday evening talking Cal into asking her.
Dorcas couldn't tell if Cherry was angry at her, or at Cal.
There was a loud bang on the door. "Cherry!" a muffled voice called. "Let us in! We need to get ready as well!"
Dorcas moved to open the dormitory door to its barred residents, but Cherry grabbed her arm and pulled her back to the mirror. She opened a tube of lipstick and ignored the banging.
"Yes, your look. If you're going to be on stage for most of the night, then you need to wow the crowd."
There was the sound of a fist pounding on the dormitory door again.
"Most of the night?" Dorcas repeated in alarm. She'd assumed she would play a few numbers to get the party going and then she'd just enchant the piano to carry on without her.
"Of course, you're going to play and sing and make the evening merry and successful."
"Sing?" Dorcas felt her pulse flutter. "Cherry, I'm not singing!"
"Now's not the time for stage fright, Dorcas!" Cherry growled as she adjusted the long, flowing dress she wore in emerald green.
Her hair was out of its normal curled and pinned state, flowing down her back. She looked beautiful, but Dorcas had no idea who she was supposed to be.
"Come on," Cherry demanded. "Let's meet the boys downstairs."
She swung the door wide and blinked at her roommates, all with matching, disgruntled looks.
"Oh, ladies!" Cherry said sweetly. "I didn't know you needed to get in, you should have knocked."
Adelaide Johnson pushed past Cherry and into the room. "We did, Weasley!"
Cherry laughed. "I was just so wrapped up in girl talk, I must not have heard you!"
"Sorry," Dorcas muttered, as she followed Cherry out through the crowd of glaring girls.
"Ignore them! They're not really mad."
Dorcas marveled at the way Cherry could dismiss the complaints and protests of her roommates. And the most amazing part was, Cherry was so charming in her obtuseness, that the girls who were annoyed with her now, would be laughing and dancing with her by the end of the night.
In the common room, Dorcas found Darren in a cape and a crown. It must be a couples costume. Arthur and Guenivere.
Cal stood next to him in a blue uniform and military cap.
Dorcas found that the sight had unexpectedly stolen her breath from her lungs. She was reminded of the uncomfortable jolt she'd experienced when Jack had showed up on her doorstep in an olive drab uniform. She had to remind herself that Cal was dressed in a costume for a Halloween dance, and not because he'd enlisted.
"You are dazzling, Dorcas Clerey!" Cal said, as she came down the stairs and into the red and gold common space.
"What about me?" Cherry wheedled.
"Always enchanting!" Cal added.
"What on earth are you wearing?" Cherry asked, pulling at his lapel.
"He's an RAF airman, Cherry. Like his brother," Dorcas supplied.
"Is it inappropriate? Like I'm mocking it?" Cal asked Dorcas self-consciously.
"No!" Dorcas rushed to reassure him. "I love a man in uniform." She thought of the way a uniform enhanced a handsome face. Jack's. Cal's.
Cal blushed and cleared his throat.
"You're wearing my present," he noticed, pointing to the little bird pin he'd given her last month.
Dorcas was pulled from her memories of Jack with a start. "Cherry wanted me to take it off. She said it didn't go with my costume."
"Birds and butterflies. It confuses the message!" Cherry insisted.
"Where are you meeting your date?" Cal asked, changing the subject.
"Oh! I actually don't know. Probably at the party."
"Shall we?" Darren asked, taking Cherry's hand.
Cal offered Dorcas his arm. Her wing brushed his shoulder as she stepped out of the Fat Lady's frame.
:::
Dorcas watched the pairs of dancers scatter and bob across the floor.
Anneliese, who'd given her a pep talk before shoving her onto the stage, was now in the arms of Beau who had managed to make his Hufflepuff uniform into a convincing bumble bee. The pink petals of Anneliese's skirt swayed in time to Dorcas's playing.
"When two lovers meet in Mayfair, so the legends tell," Dorcas sang.
Dorcas hadn't managed a moment to dance all night and she was grateful for it. To the right of the stage Mohit Singh stood scowling at her.
He was cross that she didn't remember he wanted to meet in the Ravenclaw common room and go down to the dance together. He seemed to be under the illusion that her acceptance of his offer meant that she would hang on his arm all night.
She was glad to be a disappointment.
"Songbirds sing; winter turns to spring…"
To her left, another pair of eyes were glued to her, no scowl in sight.
Cal appeared to be a disappointment as well. More than one girl was politely turned away when they offered themselves as a dance partner.
He reminded her, as he stood there in his uniform, of the boy she'd danced with in a club in London.
"Every winding street in Mayfair falls beneath the spell…"
She missed Jack. If she couldn't be in his arms, then entertaining the other pairs of sweethearts was the second best option.
"I know such enchantment can be, 'cause it happened one evening to me…"
Dorcas found Jonas, one of the few Slytherins in attendance tonight, dancing with Myrtle Warren and sneaking glances at Cherry over his partner's shoulder.
"That certain night, the night we met…"
Rubeus Hagrid tried to be inconspicuous in a corner, his giant squid costume making him less so. When he moved, those students inclined to cruelty would step on his trailing arms and tentacles. He was down to five and a half by this point in the evening.
"There was magic abroad in the air…"
Zelda Weston moved across the floor, her gossamer angel costume fluttering in her wake. She was angling for Cal and positioning herself in his eyeline.
Dorcas watched her toss her caramel curls and speak to him.
"There were angels dining at the Ritz…"
But it was a commotion at the back of the room that pulled Dorcas's attention from the heavenly creature that had swooped in to claim Cal.
Rubeus seemed to have asked Ines Santiago to dance and been scolded by her for even having that impulse in the first place. There was a ring of howling and jeering students gathering around him now.
"And a nightingale sang in Berkeley Square…"
Dorcas removed her wand and tapped the keys of the piano.
"Ludus musicarum!" she commanded.
The keys continued to hammer the melody as Dorcas stepped down from the platform.
"Finally!" Mohit said, moving into her path. "I've been waiting over here for ages! I didn't ask you tonight so that I could watch you play."
Dorcas brushed him aside.
"Not now, Singh!" she shot at the boy dressed as a green dragon.
She pushed through the bodies and the laughter.
"Move!" she shouted, shoving Ines aside a little more roughly than was strictly necessary.
"Dory?" Rubeus said, his eyes wide and pleading. "I was on'y tryin' ter make new friends. Isn't tha' wha' tonight's abou'?"
"Sure it is, Rubeus! Can this old friend have a dance, too?" Dorcas asked, taking his hand.
Once on the dance floor, Dorcas thought the laughter would die away. It didn't. She had only succeeded in making herself part of the spectacle.
Her hand didn't reach his shoulder, so she settled on resting it at his elbow.
He seemed unaware of where to place the hand that was supposed to be around her waist, tangling his fingers in her wings and accidentally grazing her backside as he did.
"That's the idea, Hagrid!" a fellow Gryffindor called out, encouraging Rubeus.
She'll show him a good time, Dorcas heard someone comment mentally.
There was more laughter at the shouted comment.
Another faceless voice called, "Go on, give her a kiss!"
Dorcas was beginning to think that trying to help Rubeus had made him more of a laughingstock.
"Dorcas Clerey has handled all sorts. This big punter will be no challenge at all!"
Dorcas recognized that voice and it caused her blood to boil.
Evlyn Rosier and Gemma Rackharrow danced close to them, having a loud conversation.
Evlyn pretended, as he often did, to be an expert on what Dorcas "handled". Ever since last year's Christmas party when she'd stunned him flat on his arse after his sloppy and failed attempts with her.
Rubeus removed his hands as if stung by Dorcas.
"I'm sorry!" he said, before parting the crowd and lumbering from the room.
"Wait, Rubeus!" Dorcas exclaimed.
She ran after him, not knowing what she would do when she caught up to him–if she caught up to him.
His stride was far longer than hers. She was also in heels. But every so often, a discarded tentacle indicated to her that she was on the right track.
She traced him to an empty classroom on the second floor. In contrast to the first floor, which was bright and gay and full of laughter, the second floor was dark and deserted and silent.
Dorcas reached beneath her skirts and crinoline and felt for the wand that was tucked into the lacy band of her stockings, just where the clasp of her garters joined them.
"Lumos!" she whispered, lighting the way before her and illuminating another tentacle in her path.
The faintest sound of sobbing echoed from the walls. And voices.
Dorcas could make out Rubeus's gruff tone and another voice that was rasping.
She stepped into the classroom and saw only Rubeus. He was crouched before an open cabinet.
"I tried to, Aragog," Rubeus sniffed, reaching into his pocket for a handkerchief that might double as an infant's swaddling, it was so oversized. But then again, everything about Rubeus Hagrid was oversized. And he was teased mercilessly about it.
Who was Aragog?
Dorcas knew she shouldn't, but her curiosity overwhelmed her. She doused her light and crept closer, listening into Rubeus's thoughts as he conversed with someone Dorcas could not make out over his sizable shoulder.
In his mind, she saw a spider, glittering coal black eyes and pincers. It was around the size of a large cocker spaniel. Rubeus was keeping it as a pet.
As she heard the spider's rasping reply, Dorcas revised her characterization.
Not a pet. A friend.
"Hagrid, they can only hurt you if you let them," the spider said.
Dorcas couldn't believe what she was seeing (or hearing, or witnessing) in Rubeus's mind.
Spiders can't talk. Also, spiders aren't the size of small dogs.
Rubeus was keeping an Acromantula in the school.
She took a step backward and bumped a chair with her hip. She gasped.
"Who's there?" Rubeus called.
Aragog crouched into the crate filled with hay that was his habitat.
"It's me, Rubeus," Dorcas replied, lighting her wand once more. "I didn't mean to startle you. Or your...friend."
"Dory?" Rubeus peered at her through the dim wand light. "Yeh won't tell, will yeh?"
Dorcas couldn't help her hesitation. "Is it dangerous?"
Rubeus got to his feet and closed the closet door, barring her from getting to Aragog.
Dorcas didn't want to go near it.
"He's not! He's my friend. On'y one I got, 'pparently," he said, the last part under his breath.
"I'm sorry!" Dorcas said, pulling her hair out of the clutches of one of her butterfly wings, annoyed. "I thought I was helping by asking you to dance, Rubeus. I didn't realize I'd make things worse."
"Couldn't get any worse. S'not yer fault."
"Come back to the dance. Only, stay away from Ines Santiago. The fact that she's dressed as a red devil should have been your first clue."
"Her bein' a Slytherin should'a been me second," Rubeus laughed.
Dorcas laughed with him. She held out a hand to encourage him to come with her.
"All partied ou', I'm afraid,'' Rubeus replied. "I think I'll stay 'ere a while."
"Okay," conceded Dorcas, dropping her hand. "But be careful with Aragog. Lock the door with a spell next time so no one will find him."
:::
Dorcas couldn't get the creature Aragog out of her mind. If she remembered what she'd read in one of her voracious dives into the library, an Acromantula could grow to be as big as a bus.
Rubeus may think he had control over the spider now, but Dorcas doubted how much longer he could satisfy the growing monster's appetite. She shuddered to think of what might happen if Aragog somehow freed himself from the broom cupboard that was his home.
She was so deep in her anxious thoughts about Rubeus and his friend that a powerful tug on her arm caused her to scream and drop her wand.
"I've wanted to get you on your own all night," Clay Atwood purred as he pulled her into a darkened alcove just off the stairs. His face was inches from hers and she smelled alcohol on his breath.
"Clay, let me go or we're going to have a falling out!"
Dorcas struggled to twist her wrist out of his hand. He used his broad frame to pin her to the wall, holding her around the waist with his opposite arm.
Dorcas pushed against his chest with her free hand, nails trying to claw his skin past his Quidditch Beater's uniform he wore as a costume.
She couldn't manage to gain enough space to kick him or to gouge his foot with her heel.
Feeling the grinding of bones in her wrist, she realized that he was forcing her hand against the front of his trousers. She turned her face away as he tried to kiss her.
"Come on, Dorcas. Don't play all innocent! You've been begging for it. All the times you sat next to me in class, teasing me." The fumes on his breath that wafted in her face as he talked made her eyes water.
She felt the cool air of the corridor on her backside as he pulled up the skirts of her dress.
Come on, Dorcas! Think!
She'd fought off a creep once before. And she didn't have her wand then, either.
Instead of fighting him, she began to play along. Her fingers loosened as he pressed her hand to the obvious bulge in his trousers. Her other hand ceased pushing against his chest and began to explore for his wand, just as she had with Evlyn in the hedgerow maze at the Christmas party.
Why did boys think that cornering and threatening and dominating would earn them the notice of a girl? She knew that this was not about attraction and desire, but about the rejection Clay had experienced at Dorcas's hands in class the other day.
"Dorcas?" a voice called, ringing down the corridor.
It was the same voice that had interrupted Tom's advances in the Disillusioned compartment on the Hogwarts Express.
Cal. He must have come searching for her when she hadn't returned to the dance.
Dorcas didn't want to wait to be rescued. She cringed at the thought of Cal finding her in this compromised state.
When one hand closed around the thin, smooth wood of Clay's wand in the waistband of his Quidditch uniform, the other hand clamped down hard on what it grasped. She used her nails.
There was an anguished cry that echoed around the alcove and rattled Dorcas's eardrums.
"Bitch!"
He released her and raised his hand to punctuate his cries with a slap across her face.
Clay's screams drowned her own strangled incantation as he crumpled to the ground, one hand covering the place where Dorcas had clawed him mercilessly. The other, raised to deal her a blow, lay splayed and innocuous, twisted beneath him. She'd stunned him as he cried out and wilted before her.
She couldn't help the small smile that drew the corners of her mouth upward.
At the entrance to the tiny stone nook, Cal looked on in awe and horror.
"Clerey? Are you alright?" he managed to ask in a strangled voice, his wand held in front of him.
Dorcas brushed some hair back from her face.
"Just a bruised wrist." She waved her hand to show full range of motion. "Nothing broken!"
"Go back to the dance, then. I'm going to have a chat with Atwood, here."
Dorcas shrugged and pitched Clay's wand down the corridor as hard as she could.
"Suit yourself!" she said indifferently as she bent to retrieve her dropped wand.
Dorcas didn't look back to see what Cal did next. She didn't turn in the direction of the Muggle Studies classroom and the dance. Instead, she walked in the direction of the spiral staircase and to Ravenclaw Tower.
She fought to keep her bottom lip from trembling as her vision blurred with tears. The brave and unconcerned act that she'd put on in front of Cal slipped and she raced up the stairs, longing for the solace of her bed.
"Birdie!" Tom said, stopping her on the second landing.
He was racing down the stairs and almost collided with her.
"I was just coming to find you! I did it! I actually–"
Tom was talking in a rush, distractedly reaching for her arm, clutching at her bruised wrist.
"Get off me!" Dorcas shouted, shoving Tom away from her. "Why does every boy in this school think they're allowed to put their hands on me?"
Tom backed away, hands held out in front of him in a conciliatory manner.
"Okay, Birdie. I'm not touching you," he said slowly and calmly.
Dorcas swiped the tears from her cheeks and glared at him.
He studied her, smeared lipstick, lopsided wings, tangled hair. "What happened?" he asked, walking beside her, steering her toward the girls' bathroom.
She threw a scathing look at him. "Nothing you haven't already attempted yourself."
Tom followed her into the bathroom. He took the comment in stride.
"I've told you I'm sincerely regretful for my lapse in judgement on that occasion. I know an apology doesn't erase my actions." He grabbed a paper tissue from the dispenser beside the sinks and handed it to her. "Tell me who hurt you and I'll make them beg you for forgiveness."
Dorcas wiped her eyes and then scrubbed at the smudged lipstick on her chin.
"It's taken care of," Dorcas replied, coldly staring at her disheveled reflection in the mirror.
She saw Tom straighten and raise his eyebrows in her periphery.
"Well, maybe this is a bad time," Tom said, changing the subject. "But I did it!"
"Did what?" Dorcas inquired absently as she strained to reach her arms around and unpin her wings. "Get these off!"
Tom grinned at her in the mirror as he unhooked the bent butterfly wings from her back.
"Have I told you how pretty you look?" Tom laughed.
"Stuff it!" Dorcas growled. "Did what?" she repeated.
"I figured out how to open the chamber!"
Dorcas gasped and spun around to face him.
"Show me!"