Chapter 50
16 February, 1959 Blackpool Abbey, Upper Flagley, Yorkshire
Dorcas leaned on Jonas's arm as they took a turn about the third floor gallery.
Jonas kept sneaking sideways glances at her, nervously assessing her condition, the steadiness of her gait, the pallor of her skin, the evenness of her breaths.
He didn't want to take her out for a stroll. He wanted her to stay in bed as Cal had ordered.
Dorcas had insisted on going out onto the grounds for fresh air.
Jonas refused to take her down a single step.
The compromise was the hallway outside of her room.
They'd been discussing the postponement of the honeymoon to Acapulco. With so many injured, the grounds of Blackpool in disarray, the Ministry's investigation, and Dorcas's complications, they'd been reluctant to take a holiday just then.
"I'm sorry everything was spoiled, Jonas," Dorcas said.
He placed his hand over hers as it rested in the crook of his arm.
"We got the most important bit done before hell broke loose. That's what matters."
Dorcas smiled.
Her little cousin was a married man now. She rested her head on his shoulder as they walked.
"I'm so proud of you," she cooed.
"What for?"
She shrugged. "For sticking it out. For waiting for her. For being patient. You two are perfect for each other."
Jonas ginned the widest grin.
"I can't believe she's mine."
Dorcas felt her heart leap into her throat. Those were the very words that played like a skipping record in Cal's brain when he'd married her. She felt a moment of regret for the first innocent days of their marriage. It was not a perfect beginning by any means.
She would barely let him touch her and she was suspicious of his motives even though he'd given her every cause to trust him.
And now he barely touched her. Besides the clinical prodding that went on routinely, Cal seemed hesitant and uncomfortable around her.
She devised ways to keep him by her side as a means to ensure that he wouldn't back out of his promise and go after Tom.
For his part, Cal seemed always to have some pressing matter to attend to that kept him from her side as much as possible. He slept beside her, leaning over to kiss her forehead and bid her goodnight. But he rose early and retired late.
And Dorcas hated the hours that she was bedridden and didn't know where he was.
That was why she was strolling the corridor with Jonas this morning. She was planning to confide the whole sordid story to him and solicit his help in keeping tabs on Cal.
She just needed to strum up the confidence.
"I can believe it!" Dorcas argued. "You're the very best of men, Jonas Tytos Rackharrow! Cherry is a lucky lady. And she knows it!"
"How are you feeling?" he asked a moment later when she winced at a small cramp.
These little pains came and went. She'd had a miscarriage early on in her marriage and she remembered it vividly. But this time the fetus had implanted improperly. In her fallopian tube instead of in her uterus. The ectopic pregnancy had cost her the fallopian tube and an ovary.
A major procedure like that would take time to heal. Even with the Blood Replenishing Potion, she needed to go carefully. She still bled a little, but today it had trickled down to only a light spotting. She felt confident in her ability to walk a few feet down the gallery.
Jonas made her promise not to try any stairs. And she could forget about independence. Jonas kept her hand firmly on his arm, supporting her.
"Better," Dorcas said, resisting the urge to bite her lip as the cramp passed. "Jonas, I have a favor to ask you."
"You never have to ask. Anything, Dor."
"Can we sit?" she requested in a strangled voice.
Another cramp had come on and she was afraid she may have over exerted herself today. Cal would fuss about this if he knew.
"Of course," Jonas said, pulling his wand from his trousers pocket and summoning a blue cushioned bench that sat against the north wall. "Was that the favor?" he asked as he lowered her to the cushion, taking a seat next to her.
"Ha ha!" Dorcas laughed dryly. She gritted her teeth and waited for the cramp to subside. "What I want is for you to watch Cal for me."
She pulled her robe closed over her nightgown and cinched the sash.
"Watch him?" Jonas's eyebrows pulled together in confusion and he stared at her.
Dorcas licked her lips and nodded. "I'm afraid he'll go after Tom. He promised me he wouldn't. But he's so angry, I don't know what he's actually capable of."
She could tell that Cal's mind dwelled on the attack nonstop. And she was keenly aware that what he imagined might be worse than what had actually transpired. She played out a constant internal debate within herself whether or not she should just show him what actually happened so that he would stop wondering.
He would come out of a blank stare and say things like: "That's why there were so many wards around the house and I found myself locked out."
Dorcas nodded.
Cal shook his head and muttered, "And I yelled at you for it."
She nodded again and then absolved him of a transgression that he was unaware of committing at the time. He would never find out from her that the sound of his voice had made her wee herself like a scared toddler.
Yesterday, when he'd woken and busied himself getting dressed so that he could check on Cherry's father, he'd turned to her and asked, "That was why you were so frantic when you woke up and couldn't find Wren."
She'd nodded again. "I didn't know if you were you or not." She shook her head, wishing it wasn't so muddled. "If you were Tom or not."
Every revelation seemed like an agony. And she just had to watch as he processed it. She couldn't help it or prevent it.
"That's why you kept asking me to remember obscure things from our past."
A nod. "I didn't know how else to confirm it was really you."
"That's why you refused to help Dumbledore any longer."
A nod. "Yes. That was only twenty-four hours since Tom had...And he told me he could get to me anytime. Anywhere. And he can."
She'd wept at voicing her fear out loud. To be able to finally confide in Cal about the whole travail was incredibly cathartic. But to unburden her meant passing the burden to him.
He'd held her in a rare moment of contact this morning and let her cry against his chest. She'd apologized for releasing all of this heavy baggage onto him.
Cal had cried with her and assured her that this was precisely what he was here for, to carry her burden for her.
"I've felt helpless since you told me. I'm glad to finally be able to do something to make it better. Even if the only thing I am good for is this," he explained, tightening his arms around her.
"This is everything I need, Cal," she'd sobbed into his nightshirt. "You're all I need."
And yet, she was still worried that he might take off after Tom. She shuddered when she imagined how that confrontation would go down.
Jonas wrapped an arm around her. "Yes, he's angry about the kiss. But he won't go after Tom. Cal's far more reasonable than that."
Dorcas hadn't been certain if Cal had filled Jonas in on the most recent events. She felt an overwhelming gratitude to him that he hadn't shared her shameful story with Jonas. But Dorcas knew that Jonas needed to understand the context in order to fully understand the favor she was asking him for.
But, she would need to go even further back than the rape in order for Jonas to truly undertsand the implications of the task.
"Jonas, only a few people besides Cal know what I'm about to tell you."
Jonas blinked at the unexpected statement. "Okay."
"I can hear the thoughts of others."
"You know Legilimency?" Jonas asked with interest.
Dorcas knew that being a spy, Jonas would know the artform and its counter, Occlumency.
"No, I do not know it as a practice. I am a natural Legilimens, Jonas. I've been able to do it since I was eight."
Jonas's face showed his shock. "I never knew."
Dorcas nodded. "And it's a gift that I am horrified to have passed on to Ryann."
"To Ryann?" Jonas repeated, stunned.
Dorcas sighed. "She knows far too much for one so young. But I did too, I guess. I'm telling you this because the next thing I'm going to tell you is something Ryann must never hear in anyone's mind. Not ever."
"I can keep my mind closed around her, Dorcas."
She nodded, assured by his words. "I know you can. And I trust you to keep this secret."
Jonas stopped her. "Is this something Cal knows, too? Because I don't want to–"
Dorcas cut him off. "Yes, Cal knows. But no one else does. Except Tom. And I think it is in Tom's interest to keep it secret too."
Jonas shook his head in confusion. "In Tom's interest to keep what secret? Dorcas, what are you talking about?"
"About a month ago, Tom…" Dorcas swallowed.
It was harder to get the words out now. With Cal, she had been trying to disabuse him of the idea that she'd been a willing partner of Tom's. And Cal was already angry about the supposed infidelity.
She had no idea if Jonas would become as angry as Cal had. She feared having two angry men to have to restrain.
He sat up straighter and turned to her. His intense bottle green eyes seemed to drill into her for the secret.
"He came to my home when I was alone and he…" Dorcas couldn't make herself say it.
Jonas's face told her she didn't need to.
"Oh my god, Dorcas!"
He reached for her and then hesitated.
"I want to hug you right now. Is that okay?"
Dorcas was sobbing hard now. She nodded her consent.
Wrapping his arms around her, Jonas secured her in a tight embrace. "I'm so sorry, Dorcas! That's awful."
Dorcas soaked the shoulder of her cousin's shirt with her tears.
"The baby was his?" Jonas confirmed.
Dorcas bobbed her head up and down between sobs, fisting handfuls of his shirt in her fingers.
"He disguised himself as Cal. I didn't know until we…"
She couldn't finish her sentence as the heaving of her breaths set off another sharp cramp in her abdomen.
"Shhh," Jonas soothed, stroking her hair. "You don't have to tell me anymore if you don't want to. I'll keep your secret from Ryann and from Cherry. I'll keep an eye on Cal. Although, to be honest, I understand Cal's impulse. I feel like going over to Gemma's and ripping the bastard's arms off and beating him senseless with them!"
Dorcas didn't hear what Jonas was saying over her own wailing. But it wasn't reliving Tom's attack that had brought the cry forth from her throat, it was a stabbing pain in her abdomen.
"Dorcas? What is it?" Jonas asked, pulling back to look at her for a clue. "Are you in pain?"
Dorcas bobbed her head, doubling over, squeezing Jonas's arm.
"Dammit! I knew this walk was a bad idea!"
Jonas pulled her to her feet and swept her up into his arms.
Over his shoulder, Dorcas could see that the cushion of the bench was crimson where she'd been sitting. She didn't know what could be happening right now. She'd gone slowly. She was on the mend.
"CAL!" Jonas called as he carried Dorcas back down the gallery and into her room. "CAL!"
Cherry came running at the racket Jonas was making.
"Jonas?"
"Where's Cal?" he yelled over his shoulder as he settled Dorcas on her bed.
Dorcas folded in on herself with another stabbing pain, screaming.
"He's with daddy," Cherry answered.
"GET HIM NOW!" roared Jonas, holding Dorcas's hand as she squeezed it, digging her nails into him.
"You got it! Hang on, Dory!" Cherry called as she darted back out of the room.
Dorcas continued to groan and shudder, knees pressed to her chest.
"What's happened?" Cal asked.
She tried to sit up and answer him but the pain continued to cramp her into a knot.
Jonas answered. "We were walking in the corridor–"
"WALKING?" Cal snapped at him. "She should have been in bed."
"She was going stir crazy," Jonas argued, defending his decision to indulge Dorcas.
Dorcas tried to come to Jonas's aid, but she could only gasp.
"I said she needed to stay in bed, Jonas!"
"How can I help, Cal?" Cherry chimed.
Dorcas could hear Cal approaching her. "You can get her robe off and that nightgown."
She felt the covers beneath her shift as Cal stripped the bed under her.
"Dorcas," Cal soothed, placing a hand on her forehead. "I'm going to put you to sleep. Don't worry, my love. It'll all be over soon."
"You'd better go now," Cherry said to Jonas, moving to take his place beside Dorcas.
She felt Jonas release her hand with an apology to her. She tried to nod in order to let him know she didn't blame him, but lost consciousness when her chin dipped to her chest.
:::
9 December, 1941 Great Hall, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
The Ravenclaw table was buzzing this morning when Dorcas joined her housemates at the table. Dorcas silently buttered her toast and listened to the conversation.
A newspaper was being passed between them and something in its pages must have been controversial.
"I bet they'll declare later today or tomorrow," Charys Fletcher said, spooning porridge to her mouth.
"Won't that make the Ministry look sheepish! Dragging their feet all this time when the Americans jump right in!" Mohit sipped his pumpkin juice and pulled the paper toward him as Everett Hornby tore into a slice of bacon.
"The Ministry's right not to get involved. MACUSA shouldn't either. It's a Muggle concern," Everett argued.
Dorcas looked between the three Ravenclaws.
"What's a Muggle concern?" she asked.
"The war," Everett answered.
Mohit turned to her and shared the paper between them.
"The Americans were attacked on Sunday morning by the Nips. Someplace in the Pacific. The Muggle government's declared war. See if the Magical Congress doesn't follow that up with a declaration too!" he supplied.
Dorcas's eyes scanned the headline.
YANKS DECLARE WAR. MAGICAL CONGRESS ISSUES STRONG CENSURE TO JAPAN.
She thought of Jack in Africa. The Americans probably would not enter that theater of the war. Maybe they would only fight in the Pacific. But, Dorcas reasoned, some help was better than none. Great Britain had been alone in the fight for too long.
"Have they only declared against Japan?" she asked, nibbling her toast and reading quickly.
"Just Japan, it seems," Charys answered.
"I hope MACUSA does end up making a declaration," Dorcas decided. "Magical and Muggle should work together. The Americans should be an example to other magical governments."
Everett gave her a skeptical stare. "But what's the Ministry's stake in the game? Why should the magical community stick its neck out for warmongering Muggles?"
"It's not a game," Dorcas argued. Her eyes narrowed at Everett. "Have you seen that plaque outside the Trophy Room? It's going to have to expand itself soon because of all the names on it. And the other side are warmongers, maybe," she conceded. "But the British aren't. If the Muggle armed forces hadn't been defending this country, the Germans would have invaded by now and then it wouldn't be a magical versus Muggle problem. It would be a British problem!"
"Hear, hear!" Charys said, lifting her pumpkin juice to Dorcas.
In Arithmancy, the talk centered around the recent attack as well.
Dorcas took her seat in the front, Cal following behind her staring at the pages of a Muggle newspaper.
"The government's declared war on Japan," Cal told her absently.
Dorcas turned in his direction. "The Americans? I heard."
"Them too. I mean Britain has, Churchill has" Cal clarified, sliding the newspaper over to her.
She scanned the headline he showed her.
MALAYA, SINGAPORE, HONG KONG ATTACKED. BRITAIN GIVES WAR DECLARATION TO JAPAN.
Dorcas blinked at the headline. She had a feeling in her stomach similar to skipping a step on her way down the stairs.
"What is happening?" she whispered.
With two aggressors sweeping across Europe and Africa and another ringing the Pacific, she wondered how governments around the world were not rallying together. Why was the magical community so obstinately silent?
"At least Britain won't be facing Japan alone on that front," Cal replied.
"What will it take to get the Ministry to act?" Dorcas asked.
Cal shrugged. "With Grindelwald their top concern, they're probably being cautious about committing themselves to other causes at the moment."
Tom paused on the way to his seat, overhearing the discussion that carried on between Dorcas and Cal.
"You don't believe the two are wholly separate issues, do you?" Tom asked, standing before Cal.
He pulled the Muggle paper in front of Dorcas toward him, spinning it around in order to read the headline for himself.
Dorcas braced herself for some snide comment from Tom. He couldn't seem to be civil around Cal when she was present.
Cal shrugged again, his face puzzled.
"I guess I did. Are you suggesting they're related?" Cal asked, a note of genuine curiosity for Tom's opinion present in his tone.
"I know what I've heard from so-called supporters of Grindelwald. He espouses the same views as Hitler. Just replace Jew, Pole, Czech, or Gypsy with Muggle and it's the same rhetoric," Tom explained.
Dorcas listened to the two boys with interest. She wanted to point out that many of Tom's housemates could be said to have those same views. She thought of Gemma and her friends specifically. Even Tom's ancestor, the founder of his house had extreme views related to pureblood supremacy.
Tom never seemed to make any statements concerning blood superiority. But, being half-blood, she thought he might have a more temperate view of things. He might be unique among his housemates for his Muggle upbringing.
"Do you think Grindelwald might be in league with the Muggle Tripartite?" Dorcas inquired.
Tom looked to her when she spoke, but his eyes immediately flicked to something over her shoulder. She watched as his eyes narrowed and became hostile.
Dorcas forgot what she'd asked and turned to see what had caught his attention. When she saw nothing beyond other students joining their groups, she searched his mind instead for the distraction.
It was Clay Atwood. Tom had made a point to glare at the Gryffindor boy who had harassed Dorcas at the Halloween dance over a month ago. The aggressive glare warned Clay off coming any closer to Dorcas.
After the incident when Clay cornered and threatened her, Cal had requested that Clay be partnered with someone else.
When Professor Lin demanded to know why she should make that change, Cal could only offer a weak defense citing a personality conflict. He couldn't disclose what had actually happened to Dorcas.
But then two days later, Clay had made a request to switch partners and was indulged by the professor.
Now Dorcas had the context for the sudden change in Tom's mind.
"What was the question?" Tom asked blankly.
"Are Grindelwald and Hitler in league?" Cal supplied for him, seemingly unaware that anything had passed between Tom and Clay.
Tom shrugged dismissively. "That's an intriguing question."
He didn't answer it. He turned and joined his partners, Mohit and Reina.
Dorcas was shocked and horrified by what she'd seen in Tom's mind. She vowed to speak to him about it at her first opportunity. She opened her inkwell and began to copy down the diagram that Lin was magically sketching on the blackboard.
"Riddle was odd just then, right?" Cal asked her.
Dorcas nodded.
:::
18 February, 1959 Blackpool Abbey, Upper Flagley, Yorkshire
Dorcas was in a fog. She felt an odd detachment from her body as if her consciousness and her corporeal being were separate from one another.
She could see herself lying beneath sheets and a heavy quilt on the bed in the white and gold decorated room she always occupied in her uncle's house.
Dorcas hadn't spent much time looking in the mirror lately. In fact, she'd avoided any activity that had forced her to be too observant of her own deteriorating state. If she didn't notice how thin, how wan, how jumpy she'd become, she could go on pretending that no one else had noticed either.
As she stared at her own unconscious form before her, the self-denial she'd been indulging in became an unavoidable truth.
Tom's effect on her life seemed like a long-dormant tumor hidden unnoticed in her for years, only to emerge malignant and then metastasizing rapidly before she could take measures against its spread.
Now it seemed she had no choice but to watch as the corrosive cancer consumed her, taking away her lifelong passion, her confidence, her history, and finally her peace.
This bleak assessment of her vitality was interrupted by a voice.
"You've got two beautiful girls, Cal. I understand that this is a gut-punch after losing your son in the same year, but you've got a wonderful family. Ryann and Wren adore you," Cherry said.
"I should have spared her the additional trauma and completed the procedure days ago. It would have been the safer course," Cal replied, his voice constricted by tears. "I was selfish, unable to face the idea that we would never be able to have any more children. I should have listened to my better judgement."
Dorcas registered the feeling of Cherry rubbing Cal's back.
If she'd been in control of her own body, she would have shed the same tears that she felt Cal shedding now.
There was a time when Dorcas didn't want children at all. They seemed to be a hindrance to the goals and pursuits she'd planned on after school. But then she'd become unexpectedly pregnant and, even as the doors to her future dreams seemed to be closing before her, she couldn't drink down the solution that would end her troubles.
Cal had made it his mission to care for Dorcas and her child. He even fought for her opportunities to carry on with her education and training to become a doctor and healer.
And then Wren came along years later.
Telling Cal that he would be a father once again, this time to a child of his own, had been one of the highest peaks of Dorcas's life. She could still remember the way his face lit up and he'd blinked tears into his lashes.
She remembered promising him more.
Now, she was learning that promise would go unfulfilled. She understood that the latest round of pains had signaled complications. Cal had been forced to remove her uterus and her remaining ovary.
There would be no more children.
"You had to try. You and Dory both knew it was chancy," Cherry responded.
"I'm failing her at every opportunity, Cherry."
Cal's voice hitched with emotion and Dorcas could feel Cherry tugging him into a tight hug. His sobs made her heart constrict.
"Pish-tosh, Meadowes! Pull yourself together. Dory would tell you exactly what I'm going to tell you: You are her hero. You show up for her everyday. If I know your wife, she would tell you that you've never been a failure a day in your life!" Cherry poked Cal in the ribs. "Now dry your eyes, No one likes a sissy!"
Cal laughed at her poor excuse for a pep talk.
His laugh seemed to jettison Dorcas into her own body once again, her limbs beginning to feel the slightest hint of connection to her consciousness. She felt her fingertips resting against the quilt; her toes beneath the sheets. Her eyelids fluttered.
Tears that had been fighting to breach the barricades of her lids, finally freed, slipped down her temples and into her hair.
She turned her head to the side in search of her solace. Her hand lifted toward him when her eyes lighted upon him and she spoke his name.
"Cal."
He and Cherry started at the sound and turned to her.
"Dorcas, are you alright? Are you in pain?" Cal solicited, rushing to her bedside in a moment.
Cherry excused herself after telling Dorcas she was happy to see her awake.
That was a tough question to answer. It was so fraught.
Physical pain? No.
There was an aching void in her that she was almost certain was not physical. Emotional pain. Spiritual pain. She would describe it as torment.
His thumb traced the trails of tears on either side of her face as he leaned down to kiss her forehead.
She lifted a heavy hand and rested it on his forearm.
Just to have him close again made the ache subside a little.
"Did you hear everything?" asked Cal hesitantly.
Dorcas wanted to put up a brave front, to be the one for once to carry the burden of things that happened to them. But he seemed to always be the one to shoulder the load.
"I'm sorry, Cal," Dorcas replied.
Cal laid down beside her, wrapping an arm around her to cradle her closer.
"Sorry for what?"
"It's my fault we'll never have any more children."
She felt Cal's cheek come to rest against the top of her head.
"How is it your fault?"
Dorcas drew in a breath, the expanding in her diaphragm caused a dull ache in her abdomen.
"I should have left him alone. If I hadn't gone to Gemma's house and yelled at him for that memory being sent to you, he probably wouldn't have felt compelled to do what he did."
"Dorcas, I can't listen to you make excuses for him. Tom is the only one responsible for assaulting you. I take some blame for walking out on you and leaving you vulnerable to him. I will be sorry for not being there to protect you for the rest of my life."
Dorcas started to object, but Cal cut her off.
"No, Dorcas. I want you to hear me say this," he insisted. "I walked out because of my own insecurities. I have always had a fear that he would come back into your life and remind you of everything you once felt for him instead of me. I was afraid of even a small part of that scenario coming true. I feared that kiss more than anything."
Dorcas wrapped an arm around her husband's torso and listened silently.
"And only a coward runs away from a fear. I should have stood my ground and fought for you. I should have protected you. I can't imagine how terrified you must have been when you realized you were with him and not me," Cal paused as his words seemed to become lodged in his throat.
"I understand if you don't forgive me for abandoning you," he concluded.
Dorcas paused. She knew what he needed to hear, although she disagreed with his summary of his culpability in the incident. She still maintained that he had every right to walk out after the kiss had been revealed to him.
"For whatever guilt you're carrying, I forgive you in order to lessen it. But I don't think you need any forgiveness from me, Cal."
There was another long pause.
Dorcas almost drifted off in Cal's arms.
"I promised you that I would not seek Tom out to make him pay for hurting you. But I want to explore our legal options against him, sweetheart."
"Legal options?"
"Yes. We don't have to go to the DMLE to file a report or anything. I just want to talk to Gideon and Fabian to see what we can do. He can't be allowed to threaten you again."
Dorcas inhaled sharply again, setting off that hollow ache.
She hadn't considered bringing the authorities into her own private torment. The thought of Tom receiving consequences for his actions didn't seem like a realistic pursuit. She couldn't picture what that might even look like. She tried to ignore the uncomfortable feeling within her that rebelled against the idea of punishing Tom. She was unwilling to explore the reason behind that reflexive feeling.
"I'd have to tell them what happened?"
Cal's hand rubbed her arm, creating a comforting friction there.
"I can talk to them on your behalf if you don't want to."
"Can I think about it?" asked Dorcas.
She knew what the right thing to do was. But she also hated the idea of anyone else being privy to the lurid details of the nightmare she'd experienced.
"Yes, of course you can, my love."
:::
9 December, 1941 Secret Room, Seventh Floor, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Dorcas picked through the precarious piles of discarded things in the secret room, tiptoeing down the sometimes overgrown path to Tom's cave.
She'd looked for him first in the library but knew instinctively that she would find him here.
Ducking her head into the opening of the furniture and blanket den, she saw that it was empty.
"Tom?" she called.
If he wasn't here, then she supposed he was in the dungeons.
"Back here, Birdie," his voice called from some distance beyond the encampment.
Dorcas tried to follow the voice, trailing deeper into the vast room with its towering piles of junk. She felt her fear ratchet up a few notches when she noticed that some of the mountains of things teetered menacingly.
It wasn't too long ago that Dorcas had brought one of the hazardous structures down on top of herself. Thank goodness that Tom had been there to dig her out and to heal her injuries.
Still, Dorcas was left with a fear of being buried alive in this place.
"Tom?" Dorcas couldn't help the ring of panic in her voice when she called for him again.
"I'm here, Birdie," Tom said, stepping out into her path, wiping his hands on a rag. "What's the matter?"
She was planning to tell him off for what he'd done to Clay Atwood, but she'd forgotten all about that when her mind ran away with her fear.
"I don't like this place anymore," Dorcas said, her chin trembling with the confession.
Tom sighed. "I know. You weren't happy with me destroying the place." He swept his arm around the room. "But I put it back. Everything's back to the way it was."
"No. It's not that."
Tom's weight shifted as he leaned against an old wardrobe. "Then what is it?"
He stared at her with his head cocked to the side, waiting for her answer.
"What are you working on?" she asked, changing the subject.
Tom pushed off of the wobbly furniture, and the pyramid of junk threatened to spill over on him. Dorcas nearly gasped as she watched the menacing pile.
"Come and see."
Dorcas followed Tom around a corner and into a cleared space.
"You did all this?" Dorcas inhaled in awe.
There was a full potions laboratory set up with a cupboard that held most of the ingredients that one would find in Slughorn's classroom. Several cauldrons bubbled and hissed on workbenches around the perimeter of the space.
"The room did it," Tom answered.
Dorcas swallowed. "The room?"
"Yes," Tom explained. "I only thought that I needed to set up a large enough operation to begin processing these ingredients for the Horcrux potion and this appeared."
Dorcas knew this room was magical. It was not surprising that it wanted to give Tom everything that came into his mind on a whim. She understood how the magical room might find it hard to deny Tom anything. She had certainly been challenged in this area.
At the same time, she couldn't shake the feeling that the room didn't want to supply the desires of her heart. Instead, she wondered if it wanted to kill her.
She recalled that startling memory of waking up in Tom's arms weeks ago, having been healed of a broken rib and a collapsed lung after tripping over some junk in her path and bringing a heap of discarded furniture down on her.
"I'm glad you're here. I wanted to show you something."
Tom took Dorcas's hand and led her into his workshop.
A purple mixture bubbled in a copper pot over a low flame at the far end of one bench.
"This is the Oni tusk that you helped me to acquire." Dorcas watched as he drew a hand through his hair. "You've helped me with all of this, actually. The extinct flower, the Oni tusk, the Basilisk feather."
Dorcas nodded. She and the secret room certainly had that in common.
"In the chamber I asked you what I could do to repay you for everything you've given me."
Dorcas opened her mouth to respond. She didn't want anything.
Tom approached her and took her hand in both of his.
Worried that he might make some declaration to her, Dorcas gently pulled her hand away.
He held it firmly.
"I thought of something I could do for you."
Dorcas's mind raced. What had he done? She couldn't even imagine.
"When I came to find you to show you the chamber, you were upset over that troll Atwood touching you."
"Look, Tom. About that–" Dorcas began, but Tom continued, cutting her off.
"It won't happen again. He won't come near you or say anything to you, or think about you again. No one will."
Dorcas felt a cold chill creep down her spine. She pulled her hand out of his and reached up to tuck her hair behind her ear in a nervous gesture.
"Tom, what did you do?" she asked in a shaky voice.
"I took him down into the chamber with me."
That was what she'd seen in his mind earlier. She couldn't believe he'd be so cavalier with the discovery. If he'd been found out, she would be implicated as well. She began to panic at the realization.
"Tom, why would you risk it? Just to threaten someone?"
Tom shrugged and smirked at her. "He won't say anything. None of them will."
"Them?" Dorcas gasped. "You showed the chamber to others?"
"Birdie, I'm trying to tell you that I took care of your problem. I'm looking after you. You don't have to be scared of them anymore. You don't have to be afraid of anyone or anything."
"Tom," Dorcas replied slowly. "I appreciate the thought behind the act. But I don't want you to threaten or harm anyone on my behalf. I don't need to be protected."
"Don't you?" Tom asked, closing the space between them and lifting his hand to trace the waves of her hair that she'd tucked behind her ear. "I won't tolerate anyone putting their hands on you, Birdie. Saying disrespectful things to you. Thinking things about you."
"You won't tolerate it of anyone but you," Dorcas amended.
Tom removed his hand from her hair and stepped away from her.
"Birdie, I've already apologized. What do you want? Do you want penance? I'll scourge myself. Do you want blood?"
Dorcas watched as he became frantic, moving to one of the workspaces where he was chopping ingredients. He took up the knife and Dorcas took an involuntary step away from him.
He held the knife to his wrist, exposed by his rolled up sleeve. "I'll open a vein for you. Tell me what to do, Birdie. I want to make it right."
"Stop it, Tom," Dorcas urged softly. She moved in slow and careful steps toward him, reaching her hand toward the knife. Her fingers closed over his, slipping the blade from his grasp. "I don't want you to hurt yourself. I only meant to say that you can't be upset with someone like Clay Atwood for doing something that you did. It's a double standard."
She tossed the blade onto the stone floor away from them.
"I hate myself for hurting you and frightening you, Birdie," Tom said, dropping abruptly to his knees and burying his face in her stomach. "The things I feel for you scare me."
He wrapped his arms around Dorcas's waist.
Dorcas's hands went to his hair, carding her fingers through it.
"I didn't mean to upset you, Tom. I forgive you for what happened on the train. I'll never bring it up again. But you have to promise me something."
When Tom looked up at her, brown eyes big and pleading, his chin resting in the hollow space where her ribs met. Her heart melted under his gaze. She could feel her willingness to fall right back into their old rhythm. He was hard to resist.
"Anything," he said, squeezing her tighter to him.
"You have to stop threatening people. Leave that monster down in the chamber where it belongs."
Tom looked as if he wanted to argue, but a moment later he nodded and pressed a kiss to her stomach.
"I won't threaten anyone else with Slytherin's monster."
Dorcas hoped that this was finally the end of their nearly six-month-long row. But she was also skeptical of Tom's ability to keep his promise.
"Now show me what you've been working on," Dorcas said with a smile and a kiss on the top of Tom's head.
:::
20 February, 1959 Blackpool Abbey, Upper Flagley, Yorkshire
Dorcas watched from the corner as Gemma entered her bedroom in a green evening gown, her eyes flashing menacingly as she flung the door wide. It banged on its hinges, causing Dorcas to jump.
She recognized the dress. Gemma had worn it on Halloween to Jonas and Cherry's engagement party.
"You were no help there!" Gemma snapped to someone out in the hall. It was a continuation of an argument that Dorcas had no context for.
In another moment, Tom followed her into the bedroom, suit jacket draped over his arm, tie untied.
"What was I supposed to do?" Tom shrugged, laying his jacket over the chair to her vanity. He added his tie to the pile and turned to help Gemma with the clasp at her neck.
Gemma huffed and rolled her eyes. "Back me up!"
"Well, you called her a tacky whore, Gemma. You should have expected a fight."
Gemma slapped his hands away and moved across the room, trying to undo the clasp herself.
"Yes, I expected Weasley to retaliate because she has no decorum."
Tom snorted, unbuttoning his shirt and discarding it.
Gemma turned back to him, a glare in his direction communicating how humorless she was at this moment.
"But I didn't expect you and that Mudblood Meadowes to go at it like you did," she continued.
The dress slipped to the floor leaving Gemma in a black, lacy bustier and tiny black knickers. She still had her heels on.
Dorcas was stunned to see how little the sight of Gemma looking like every red-blooded man's dream affected him.
He sprawled out on Gemma's bed, propped on a pile of pillows like a sultan in possession of a harem.
Gemma stood before him and glared.
"What did you say to him?"
"To whom?" Tom asked, folding his hands behind his head and yawning theatrically at Gemma.
She crossed her arms and shifted her weight to one hip.
"Meadowes."
"That's between the two of us."
"Bullshit! You said something about Dorcas."
Tom shrugged again, challenging her to make something out of it.
"Why are you so whipped by her? You are the Dark Lord. No one should make a fool out of you."
Gemma's hands were on her hips. Her eyes narrowed at him.
"Am I a fool, Gemma?" Tom asked. His tone took on a threatening edge, his relaxed posture shifted.
Dorcas watched Gemma shrink a little. Her hands slipped from her hips to hang limply at her sides.
"You are not, my lord," she said. Her voice became silky, seductive.
His eyes flashed at her, Dorcas noted a red glint to them.
"Then don't speak about those topics upon which you have no information."
He undid the buckle of his belt and slid the zipper on his trousers down. His hands returned to that casual position behind his head as he sprawled back onto the pillows once again.
"Now, come over here and put your mouth to a better use."
Dorcas tensed. She didn't know how Gemma would respond not only to having her thoughts and opinions dismissed, but then to be ordered about in her own home.
Part of her wanted Gemma to find a way to diffuse the situation. Part of her wanted Gemma to reach for her wand and curse the bastard.
She did neither.
"Get out of my house."
Dorcas was bracing for Tom to reach for his wand. He didn't.
Instead, he reached down and did up his trousers and belt, quietly stood and slipped his shirt on, grabbed his coat and shoes and left Gemma alone in her room.
Gemma stood watching the door that Tom had closed behind him.
Dorcas wondered when her rage would boil over at the insult Tom had dealt her. She tensed, looking for nearby objects that Gemma might throw at the last place Tom had been before disappearing.
Instead, Gemma sank to the carpet in her bedroom and cried.
:::
Dorcas watched the steam rising from the surface of the water in her bath. She tried to shake the image of Gemma crumpled on the floor of her bedroom out of her mind.
She'd begged her cousin to leave him. The last time she was at Gemma's townhouse, she urged Gemma to stay with her or Jonas. She didn't have to stay with Tom. Gemma had turned her down.
What more could she do?
She startled when water trickled down her back, followed by the caress of a sponge.
Cal was seated beside the copper bath basin in the washroom like he was a dutiful ladies maid and she was a Jane Austen heroine getting ready to attend some monumental ball. These old houses and their quirks always made her think about various Regency settings.
She leaned back and took the sponge from his hand, threading her fingers through his and kissing each of his fingertips.
"How do you feel about leaving tomorrow?" he asked her.
They'd stayed nearly a week when they'd only planned on two days.
Dorcas was torn. Alhough a lot had happened; the attack on the wedding day, Cherry's father suffering a heart attack while dueling gate crashers, her miscarriage, followed by a hysterectomy. Yet, she'd felt more at peace here in her uncle's house than she had in the previous month hiding out in the office of her own home.
"Going home?" Dorcas asked.
Cal swept her hair from her forehead, wetting it so that he could lather it with shampoo.
Dorcas closed her eyes as he massaged her scalp.
"Yes, home," Cal confirmed.
She sighed. Maybe it was time to broach a subject she'd been wanting to talk to him about for days now.
"It doesn't feel like home anymore," Dorcas said, the quaver in her voice giving away her apprehension.
Cal rinsed her hair, running his fingers through it to release all of the suds.
"I don't want you to live someplace that unsettles you, Dorcas."
"It does. I used to love that house. But I can't go into our bedroom. It's where–" she inhaled and felt the familiar prickle of tears in her eyes.
Cal nodded and squeezed her shoulder. "You don't have to, my love. I wanted to talk to you about that, actually. I'm thinking of putting the house on the market."
"Sell it?" Dorcas asked.
"I've actually already done it," Cal admitted. "I've moved our things into the townhouse."
Dorcas sat up and looked at him.
"Should I have waited to ask you?" Cal queried, his brow furrowing in confusion at her enigmatic look.
"No, it needed to be done. I was just surprised about the London house. Cal, your mother–"
Cal caught her chin between his thumb and forefinger, prompting her to stop talking.
"Is no longer living in that house. It's yours, along with everything else I own to my name, beloved."
Whatever else Dorcas was going to say was cut off by a quick but firm kiss to her lips.
Cal stood with a towel and helped her carefully from the bathtub.
Dorcas tried to conceal the wince that came to her features. That ever-present dull ache in her abdomen would remind her for weeks yet that she was now barren.
"And if you don't like that house I'll buy you another one," Cal said, wrapping her in the soft warmth of the towel, kissing her again. This time it was ardent and lingering.
Dorcas's knees buckled beneath the force of it.
Cal's arms were firmly around her, preventing her from falling.
A knock on the door caused them to jump apart like naughty teenagers.
"Cal? Dorcas?" Jonas's voice came from the other side of the door.
Cal left Dorcas to dry off and slip on some silk pajamas and a fluffy robe.
"Jonas? What's going on?" Cal asked, cracking the door slightly.
"It's Professor Dumbledore. He's come to talk to you and Dorcas," Jonas said. "He's in the east drawing room."
"Tell him I'll be right down, but that Dorcas is unwell and is not seeing visitors."
"Of c–" Jonas began.
Dorcas overrode Cal's orders. "Tell him we'll both be down in a minute, Jonas."
There was a pause, then Cal gave Jonas a curt nod.
Cal closed the door again and turned to Dorcas. "I don't think it's a good idea for you to go downstairs. He has a way of upsetting you, sweetheart."
Dorcas smiled and patted her husband's arm. "I'm not made of glass, Cal."
He didn't argue with her as she followed him down the hall in her bare feet, but he insisted on carrying her down the stairs.
"Do you think we need a safe word? Or will we be alright, you and I with this ancient wizard?" Dorcas teased Cal as they paused outside the door.
Cal didn't smile back or respond aloud, but called her a smartass in his head.
Dorcas could make out voices once they'd reached the bottom of the stairs. She made Cal place her back on her own feet, refusing to appear feeble in front of Dumbledore or anyone else.
"I don't think the planes were destroyed on purpose. Just collateral damage," Jonas was explaining.
"Could be someone who disagrees with your involvement in the Muggle military alliance," Dumbledore's voice answered, drifting out into the hall.
Cal put Dorcas down, but kept a protective hand upon her back between her shoulder blades as he entered the room with her beside him.
We can leave if you feel even the slightest bit unwell, Dorcas.
She looked up at him and gave him a reassuring smile. She could do this.
Dumbledore and Jonas both got to their feet when Dorcas entered the room.
Jonas's expression was one of approval. He was glad to see her up and about. Dorcas could tell in his mind that he equated her willingness to venture out of her room with signs of healing.
Dumbledore's features held a different expression altogether; one Dorcas did not like. It resembled pity. Although the experienced wizard could conceal his mind better than anyone she knew, he was wearing his shock at her diminished state plainly on his face.
"Dr. Meadowes, thank you for agreeing to see me. Healer Meadowes," Dumbledore greeted.
"Professor," Dorcas replied, Cal echoing her.
Jonas motioned for Dorcas to take his seat across from Dumbledore next to the fire as Cal pulled a chair away from the tea table to sit beside his wife.
Dorcas held her bare feet out to the flames, luxuriating in the heat on her toes. She felt Cal take her hand as it rested on the arm of her chair. Jonas took up a position on her other side. She felt as if ranks were being closed around her in the face of an enemy.
"Mr. Rackharrow was just filling me in on the unexpected events of his wedding day. I was in the Ministry at the very moment that your uncle's portrait raised the alarm, Dorcas."
Dumbledore peered over his half-moon spectacles at her.
"I heard your posturing about NATO. Are you sure it wasn't connected to the Minister? She was in attendance with her son that day," Dorcas responded.
Dumbledore nodded. "That's another theory."
She stared at the old man openly. Throwing around theories was not Dumbledore's purpose in calling at Blackpool Abbey. She was certain that only one theory compelled Dumbledore's visit today.
"Jonas, honey," Cherry's voice called from the corridor. In a moment, the redheaded witch was in the doorway of the drawing room.
"Why, Professor Dumbledore!" she gushed when she saw the old Transfiguration teacher.
"Hello, Mrs. Rackharrow!" Dumbledore said, a twinkling grin spread across his face at Cherry's appearance.
"Mrs. Rackharrow! I think you're the first person to use my married name, professor!" Cherry laughed.
"You look radiant, my dear. Married life suits you!"
Cherry waved him off. "You old dear!" Turning to Jonas, Cherry held out a hand to him. "Daddy wants a bit of a chat, honey."
Dumbledore nodded graciously when Jonas excused himself and followed Cherry from the room.
No one spoke until the couple had gone.
"Tell me, professor," Dorcas finally asked. "Which theory are you pursuing?"
Cal squeezed her hand. Take it easy. He's not the enemy, Clerey.
Dorcas deliberately did not look in her husband's direction.
"I am open to all possibilities," Dumbledore responded evenly, leaning back in his chair.
Dorcas took the gesture to mean that her old teacher was ready to settle into a long discussion.
"Did you hear anything in the minds of the attackers you met, Dorcas?" Cal prompted.
She did turn to look at him now, hoping to communicate with her raised eyebrows that he didn't have to jump into Dumbledore's alliance so quickly.
When she remained mute, Dumbledore added, "It would help us to narrow down the potential threats to you and your family, Dorcas. If you could provide any insight..."
"I'm sorry, professor, but are you moonlighting for the DMLE now?" Dorcas asked with an incredulous smirk.
Dumbledore returned the smirk with an open smile.
"I'm always exploring options for my retirement."
Dorcas shrugged. "I'll tell you what I told Auror Prewett, they all had Occlumency shields up. Every single one of them."
Dumbledore nodded, he appeared as if he expected her answer. Something in the way he surveyed her made Dorcas feel exposed, as if he were trying to peer inside of her for the real answer.
"I heard you were injured in the fight. I'm very relieved to see you on the mend."
She inhaled sharply at the turn of the conversation. Maybe Cal had been right to want her to remain upstairs. This back and forth was grating on her nerves and she'd already resolved not to tell Dumbledore anything that might point to Tom.
"I wasn't injured. Not exactly," Dorcas quipped. "I miscarried my child, if you must know."
"Dorcas," Cal cut in.
Dorcas pulled her hand away from him. She wouldn't be muzzled. No one spared her feelings, ever! Why should she coddle the sentiments of an old man who'd never experienced the heartbreak of losing a child? Dorcas had lost three.
"My dear, I had no idea!"
He had the decency to look concerned at least.
"Complications from the miscarriage cost me my ability to have any more children," Dorcas explained in a detached voice.
She glanced between Cal and her old teacher. Twin looks of speechless shock stared back at her.
Dorcas straightened her robe and crossed her legs casually, bare foot stretching toward the fire once more.
"So, did you come here to ask if I suspect Tom of planning the scene at my cousin's wedding? Do I think he specifically came here to attack me? The answer is, I don't know. It could have been anyone, for any reason at all."
"Dorcas, I didn't mean–" Dumbledore leaned forward and fixed his penetrating blue gaze on her.
She anticipated an apology that she couldn't stomach just now.
"You never do, professor," Dorcas replied dismissively, standing and cinching her robe securely around her middle. "Cal, please show the professor out."
Cal stood and grabbed her elbow as Dumbledore also rose from his seat.
"Dorcas, why don't we–"
She placed her hand on her husband's forearm; a gentle gesture, but one that communicated that she'd reached her limit for chat this evening.
"Thank you for your visit and your well wishes, sir."
With her abrupt goodbye, Dorcas shuffled out of the room and up the stairs. She met Jonas on the second floor landing when she'd paused to catch her breath.
He rushed to her side and took her arm.
"How's Mr. Weasley?" Dorcas asked between shallow breaths.
The dull ache had returned to her abdomen and she had an uncomfortable feeling of regret settling over her shoulders for the way she'd just spoken to Professor Dumbledore.
Jonas's arm wrapped around her waist, supporting her for the last flight of stairs.
"This is the third time he's begged me to take Cherry to Mexico," Jonas chuckled.
"Is Florence Nightingale getting on daddy's nerves?" Dorcas joked.
Jonas smiled at her as he opened her bedroom door for her. "I don't know who that is, but if she's famous for torture, then yes."
Dorcas laughed.
"Something like that."
:::
Dorcas looked up at the plaster ceiling and the moulded medallion where the chandelier hung down toward the foot of her bed.
She replayed the conversation that had just occurred between her, Cal, and the professor back in her mind.
Even if she had conclusive and irreproachable evidence against Tom for the attack on Cherry and Jonas's wedding, she wouldn't give it to him.
She couldn't think of a single thing in the world that she would risk the safety of her daughters or Cal for.
I can get to you anytime. Anywhere.
She believed Tom.
Her mind didn't have to make a very large leap to picture him in Cal's body walking into Wren's school and taking her away. He could stroll into Hogsmeade on one of the Sunday outings that Hogwarts held for students and introduce himself to Ryann.
He could hurt any one of them.
A soft rap on the door caused Dorcas to lift her head from the pillow.
"Come in," she called.
Cal slipped into the room and fixed her with a careful look.
"That could have gone better," he admitted, seating himself at the foot of the bed.
He took Dorcas's cold foot between his hands and began to rub it.
Dorcas sank back into the pillow and closed her eyes.
"Was he really angry at me?"
"No. Concerned. Confused as to why you were willing to help but now are throwing up roadblocks. He's a smart man. I'm sure he's worked out at least that Tom's threatened you."
Dorcas pushed herself up on her elbows in order to see Cal better.
"Cal," she began. Her voice would not remain calm and neutral, no matter how much she tried to exert control over it.
"What is it, my love?"
"I lied to the Aurors. I lied to Dumbledore."