Author's Note: Sorry for missing my usual deadline last week and again this week. It's been a particularly busy two weeks. I promise to do better in the future. Enjoy.
Chapter 51
21 February, 1959 Blackpool Abbey, Upper Flagley, Yorkshire
"Uncle? Tytos?"
Dorcas paused at the top of the balcony's stairs and looked around the upper level of the library.
The shattered glass and gaping windows had been repaired and most signs of the attack had been erased from the manor house and its grounds.
"Where are they, Capricorn?"
The horse whinnied and hooved the foreground of the encaustic painting he inhabited.
Dorcas was hoping to say goodbye to her uncle's portrait before she left. But, she supposed she'd see him at the Ministry in a matter of days.
She turned and began to descend lightly, mind full of packing lists and the uncertainty of moving into a new home.
"He's not been back since the attack, child. Beastly uncomfortable, I'd imagine, having one's canvas shredded."
Dorcas spun on the steps and trotted back up.
"Tytos! Have you been avoiding me?"
The medieval wizard looked affronted at the accusation.
"One cannot stand around in a frame all day waiting for the living. I've had matters to attend to, my dear," Tytos explained importantly.
"I'm leaving today. My husband and I. I wanted to say goodbye."
"How is your brave protector, the young lion?"
Dorcas laughed at Tytos's characterization of Cal. It had been years since she felt "young" and she knew Cal would echo the feeling.
"He's good."
Tytos nodded. "I always liked young Caleb. His Gryffindor affiliation aside, he is redoubtable and steadfast and he adores you. I cannot find fault in a man who loves my dearest niece so well."
"Great niece, like ten times over," Dorcas amended.
"Are you calling me old?" Tytos asked, raising his eyebrows.
"No, sir!" Dorcas laughed.
"I don't feel a day over six-hundred."
"You don't look a day over four-hundred!"
"Flatterer!" Tytos lifted a hand to stroke Capricorn's neck.
"Tytos, will you do something for me?" Dorcas asked. This was the reason she'd sought him out.
"If it is within my power, you have my solemn vow that I shall carry it out to the letter," Tytos answered, squaring his shoulders. His hand came to rest on the hilt of the sword that was belted onto his left hip.
"Will you keep an eye out for Ryann while she's at school?" Dorcas bit her lip as she asked.
She knew it amounted to spying. But she worried about Dumbledore's ability to be everywhere and notice everything. If her own experience at school had taught her anything, it was that teachers and staff could be oblivious to all that their students get up to at Hogwarts.
Only the ghosts seemed to know what really went on in the corridors of that place.
She remembered how the Grey Lady had remarked on her late night outings with Tom once or twice.
"I am your faithful servant, my dear. It shall be done. I was just with her earlier this morning, in fact."
Dorcas felt herself brighten. "Really? What was she doing?"
"Playing Exploding Snap. Thoroughly trouncing the Greengrass lad."
She smiled at the image in her head. Choosing her words carefully, Dorcas explained.
"There have been some threats made against me and Cal of late. I worry about Ryann being so far away from me."
She knew it wasn't the strictest version of the truth and she felt a twinge of remorse for the alteration of fact. But Tytos didn't need to know of Tom's recent transgression against her or his insistence on being in Ryann's life.
"Worry not, gentle lady! My sword and shield are yours to command."
"Thank you, Tytos!"
He smiled. "You are most assuredly welcome, Dorcas."
On the stairs up to her room, she found Jonas.
"I'm glad you and Cherry decided to go away after all."
Jonas fixed her with a pained expression.
"I'm not at all sure it's the right thing to do," Jonas confided.
Dorcas took his hand and squeezed it. "Cherry's father is home and on the mend. The Aurors are handling the investigation into the attack on Blackpool. There's nothing more for you to do here."
"I know you're right."
"You always say the cleverest things, Jonas!" Dorcas winked and turned to her bedroom door.
"You'll be okay, right?" Jonas's voice burst out and then tapered off as if the words had fought for escape.
Dorcas retraced her steps to him.
"I worry about you, Dor. How can I make things better for you?"
She smiled and threw her arms around him.
"You can go about your life. Enjoy time with your new bride. Name your honeymoon baby after me."
Jonas laughed uneasily.
"I mean it! I wish I could do something. You've been through so much for one person. And this year alone has been a real hell for you." Jonas frowned as he looked down at her.
"I know I wouldn't be able to get through any of it without Cal. We have each other. You don't need to worry about me."
He kissed her temple and squeezed her tightly. "I love you, cousin."
"I love you too," Dorcas replied.
:::
Cal was solicitous of her when she appeared in the bedroom they shared at Blackpool.
"I hope you like the way I arranged the house," he said from his position at the vanity where he sat writing a letter.
Dorcas wanted to say that no matter how he arranged it, the house was still the same house that his mother told her she would never be mistress of. It was still the same house she'd spent her first night as a motherless orphan.
Some memories couldn't be erased by shifting some furniture or painting a wall.
But she smiled a small smile and turned to the bed where she'd begun to pack their things. He was trying to make what happened to her less traumatic in his way. He was trying to arrange it so that she didn't have to return to the Watermead house again.
She was reminded of the conversation she'd initiated with him following Dumbledore's visit last evening.
"I lied to the Aurors. I lied to Dumbledore," she'd confessed.
Cal stared up at her from the foot of the bed where he was rubbing her frigid toes.
"What do you mean, you lied?"
Dorcas folded her arms over her chest and leaned back against the pillows.
"I mean I didn't tell the truth, Cal. I will never tell the truth."
Cal stopped kneading her arch with his thumb.
"Will you tell me?"
Dorcas sighed. She knew that Cal would no sooner place their girls in harm's way than she would. Therefore, he had as much stake in keeping her secrets as she did.
"When Tom–" Dorcas choked on the name of her tormentor.
Cal shifted, taking the place beside her on the bed and wrapped an arm around her.
Dorcas shook her head when he opened his mouth. He was going to tell her that she needn't say anything more if she didn't want to.
She didn't want to say. But she had to say.
"When he was holding me down and," she paused once again.
Cal's hand rubbed her forearm encouragingly.
She closed her eyes and pushed on ahead. "Raped me," she continued, swiping a tear away from her cheek angrily. "He told me he could get to me anytime, anywhere."
"He won't touch you ever again, Dorcas," Cal insisted.
Dorcas patted his hand and shushed him. "You can't promise that, Cal. He wanted to let me know that he could pose as you and get to our girls. I'm sure of it. If I tell Dumbledore anything more than I already have, I could be endangering them."
"Dorcas–" he attempted.
"No, Cal. Listen to me! He fooled me. I let him take me into our bedroom. I went willingly. I begged him, even. Because I thought it was you. I was so desperate to make up with you. I didn't have any idea that it wasn't you until he let his Occlumency shield down. And he enjoyed how terrified and powerless I was. He got off on it. If he could fool me, he could fool anyone at Wren's school. He could fool anyone at Hogwarts. What would we do if he took one of our girls, Cal?"
She felt her husband's chest rise with a deep breath he inhaled at the idea of Tom going after his daughters.
"I'll kill him with my bare hands."
Cal said it so casually, as if stating an obvious fact. Dorcas didn't doubt his sincerity.
"He can't die, Cal."
She could see Cal's mind flickering over possible ways to make Tom suffer. None of which came close to the reality of the situation.
Tom was untouchable. And she'd played her part in making him so.
Cal didn't argue with the assessment. Nor did he abandon his line of thinking. He changed the subject.
"So what did you lie about?"
"I heard the thoughts of the man–well, monster that I followed into the maze after Ryann. He wasn't very proficient at Occlumency. He was a werewolf. He was specifically stalking her, Cal."
"He was after Ryann?"
Dorcas nodded.
"Did you find out who sent them? Was it Tom?"
She shrugged. "I couldn't find out who sent them. He seemed to be low in the...what do we call them? Organization? Group? Cult? He was a grunt. Just carrying out orders and hoping to sink his teeth into a victim or two along the way. Could he be connected to Tom? Maybe. I'm not willing to make any connections for Dumbledore. Let him do his own legwork. As for me, I believe Tom's threats. I'm not willing to goad him into hurting anyone I care about."
She thought of Gemma. He was already hurting...a member of her family, if not someone she actually cared about.
"I understand," Cal replied simply.
"You do?" Dorcas turned to look up at him.
He nodded. "I know it's my fault that he can disguise himself as me. I threw the first punch at the party. He probably pulled my hair or something with the intent to get genetic material."
Dorcas sighed. It was yet one more way in which Cal could mentally tear himself apart with guilt over what happened to her.
"Well, he's not the only one whose mind I was able to infiltrate," Dorcas admitted.
Cal shifted and stared down at her. "Who else?"
"Gemma. But not from that night. From earlier. When I went to her house to find out if she'd heard from Jonas."
"I remember," Cal said. "You came home with a busted face. You called her a twat."
"I don't think she's a twat. Well, maybe I do. But now I feel sorry for her. I didn't realize how much I'd picked up on when I hit her to get her guard down. I was only looking to see if she'd heard from her brother or not. But when I nearly bled to death last week, I began to process memories of hers I'd picked up on. Mostly creepy moments between her and Tom. Having sex."
She shuddered.
"But I think I might be able to get at more memories. I didn't tell Dumbledore that. No one is to know. Tom can go on doing whatever it is he is doing that Dumbledore doesn't like. As long as he stays away from you and my girls, I couldn't care less."
"Okay," Cal responded, kissing her forehead. "Thank you for telling me. I agree that we shouldn't help Dumbledore or instigate Tom."
Dorcas closed her eyes and heaved a grateful sigh.
"Have you thought anymore about getting the DMLE involved in the assault?"
Her eyes had whipped open instantly.
"Wouldn't that fall under the category of instigating Tom?"
She felt Cal nod as his chin was pressed to her forehead. "Yes, but it'd be difficult to threaten our family from Azkaban, Dorcas. I think we should explore it."
She'd put him off. "I'm still thinking it over, Cal. Please don't rush me."
"Who are you writing to?" Dorcas asked, returning to the present as she folded and packed her clothes and Cal's. She turned to glance at him as he was signing the letter.
"Dumbledore," Cal replied evenly.
Dorcas knew her eyebrows had jumped into her hairline. "Dumbledore? What for?" She tried to ask without sounding frightened, but she knew she'd failed.
Cal looked up from the envelope he was addressing and reassured her with a smile.
"Don't worry! I promised not to say a word to him about what you told me last night. I'm asking him to recommend a tutor."
Dorcas nodded, feeling more at ease. "That's a good idea."
She returned to packing and allowed Cal to get on with his task.
They'd discussed the necessity of pulling Wren out of her school in Aylesbury. But when the discussion turned to new schools in London, Dorcas didn't feel as if any one of them was a safer option now that Tom was a threat.
She and Cal had settled on keeping their youngest at home.
But Dorcas thought that she might teach Wren herself. She knew that this would leave her little time for her own career, but brushed that thought aside. She had no career until she was able to resolve the injuries to her own memory. That would also take time and concentration.
"I only explained to him that we need someone who can educate Wren as well as keep her safe when we're not around. I didn't tell him anything beyond that," Cal explained.
"She's going to miss having children to play with," Dorcas thought aloud.
Cal nodded as if he'd already considered this problem. "We can have Beau and Anneliese bring Trevor by for playdates. And she'll meet new kids in the neighborhood."
"Stuck up and prissy children from posh families," Dorcas complained under her breath.
Cal laughed. "So I'm stuck up and prissy, am I? I grew up in that neighborhood, need I remind you."
Dorcas crossed the room and kissed the crown of his head. He wrapped an arm around her hips and pulled her closer against him.
"You've never been stuck up, Cal. You're the exception."
:::
22 December, 1941 Muggle Studies Classroom, First Floor, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Dorcas huffed in frustration. She and Anneliese seemed to have the same argument around this time every year. Dorcas would throw out ideas about what to get Cherry for a Christmas gift and Anneliese would shoot them down by pointing out exactly how Cherry would destroy the gift or injure herself or others with it.
In the end, Dorcas had been strongarmed into going in on a gift of Anneliese's choosing. Two more charms for her bracelet that had garnered a tepid response last Christmas.
"She can't burn down my home with an innocent charm on a bracelet, Dorcas!" Anneliese argued, reminding Dorcas of the lighter she'd given Cherry for her birthday.
Dorcas remembered Cherry lighting wrapping paper on fire and Anneliese dousing the flames with lemonade.
She said nothing. Clutching her gifts for Anneliese, Beau, Darren, Cal, and Jonas in her arms, she followed her into the classroom that had been given over as a gathering place for students now that the weather had turned cold and damp.
Cherry was already seated at a table near the fireplace with her boyfriend Darren. Cherry wore a new barrette in her hair. The garnets caught the flickering firelight.
"Where's Cal?" Dorcas asked, taking a seat beside the couple.
Jonas joined them a moment later. Dorcas caught a fleeting look on his face when he saw Cherry and Darren seated so close to one another, Cherry was practically in his lap. But it passed as quickly as it had come and he pasted a pleasant smile on his face in the next moment.
"He had to help Hagrid with something in the library," Darren explained.
Cherry raised her eyebrows at Dorcas.
Dorcas shook her head at Cherry. She heard her friend's thoughts and wanted to discourage her from making something out of the question. She had a gift for him. There was nothing more to it than that.
"Oh, well. I'll catch him later and give him this," Dorcas said, sliding the wrapped present over to the side.
"What is it?" Cherry asked with a waggle of her eyebrows.
Dorcas rolled her eyes. "A book."
Cherry's smile fell. "Oh. That's not romantic."
Anneliese shook her head. "Stop it, Cherry."
"It's not meant to be. We're just friends, Cher." Dorcas felt her cheeks redden and wished for someone to change the subject.
"Here, Cherry!" Anneliese said, shoving the small wrapped jewelry box toward her.
"This isn't the toaster I wanted," Cherry said with a frown.
"No, it isn't," Dorcas agreed.
Cherry unwrapped the charms and was gracious about the gift. Dorcas had picked out a lion for Gryffindor and Anneliese had chosen Cherry's initials. She held her wrist out for Darren to hook the new charms to her bracelet with thanks to her friends.
"Here's our gift, Dory," Anneliese said, shoving a box of similar size toward her.
When Dorcas unwrapped it, she was met with a beautiful pair of sapphire studded earrings.
"Wow! Thanks, girls!" she gasped, removing them and placing them in her earlobes. "They're beautiful!"
Dorcas and Cherry gave Anneliese a locket.
She slid two more wrapped gifts to Darren and Anneliese. To Darren, Dorcas had given a box of Fizzing Whizzbees. And she handed Anneliese a bag of Bertie Botts Every Flavor Beans for Beau, who was absent. The Hufflepuff Quidditch team were on the field practicing in sleet at this very moment. Dorcas didn't understand why. Their match with Slytherin wasn't until next month.
"This is for you, Jonas," Dorcas said, finally giving away her last gift.
When Jonas unwrapped it, his eyebrows furrowed. "A book. Dorcas you shouldn't have," he responded dully.
Dorcas and Cherry laughed.
"It's a biography of Baron von Richthofen," Dorcas explained patiently.
"Brilliant!" Jonas said, flipping through the first few pages. "Who's that?"
"He was the best fighter pilot of the Great War," she answered.
"Have you never heard of the Red Baron?" Anneliese stared at Jonas like an oddity.
"No," replied Jonas, Cherry, and Darren in unison.
Anneliese shrugged and flipped her hair over her shoulder. "Well, since you like planes and that sort of thing, Jonas, you will enjoy reading about him."
"He's a Muggle?" Cherry gasped, snatching the present away from Jonas.
Dorcas watched as his interest in reading shot up tenfold now that Cherry was engaged in the topic.
"Jonas, may I borrow it when you're done?" Cherry asked hopefully, batting her eyelashes shamelessly.
"Sure," he replied, blushing. "We can discuss it when we've both read it."
"Is this one mine?" Dorcas asked Jonas, pointing to a thin box wrapped in silver paper.
Jonas slid it to her absently. "Oh yeah. I would have preferred if we could exchange gifts after the Christmas party like we did last year, but you'd rather be in London."
"Maybe I'll spend next Christmas with you," Dorcas cajoled, tearing into the silver paper.
She lifted the lid on the box and pulled out sheet music.
"For your piano," Jonas informed her.
Dorcas studied the piece. Debussy's Clair de Lune. She wished for the next day to pass quickly so that she could be at her piano once again and play it.
"Oh, Jonas!"
"Do you like it? Is it a good one?"
"Yes, it's beautiful! I wish I could play it for you all," Dorcas said. "Where did you get the idea for this?" she wondered.
"Tom," Jonas told her simply.
"Tom?" Dorcas asked, her head falling to one side with the question.
"Yes, he suggested that I should get you something musical. He even suggested the song."
Darren nodded in appreciation. "Smooth."
Dorcas wondered why, if Tom had wanted her to have the music, he didn't just give it to her himself. She tried to think back over their last few conversations. They seemed to be in a good place. They'd been friendly if not close. Was he mad at her again?
As if he'd been conjured, Tom's voice drifted over Dorcas's shoulder.
"Merry Christmas. Am I interrupting?" he asked.
"Happy Christmas, Tom," Anneliese returned amicably.
"We're doing presents just now," Cherry replied in a voice that suggested he come back at a more convenient time.
Dorcas turned in his direction to see his expression become shadowed with a hint of disappointment at Cherry's dismissal.
"Don't be silly, Cherry. We've just finished, Tom. Would you like to join us?" Dorcas asked.
"Actually, I would like to borrow Dorcas, if I might."
Cherry huffed. "What about Cal, Dory? You haven't given him his present yet."
Dorcas saw in Tom's mind that he had something in the secret room to show her. But he was being very careful about what. She was eager to follow his progress in the Horcrux potion that he was making and so she stood.
"Be sure and give it to him from me, Cherry," Dorcas said, sliding the book she'd picked out for him over to the redhead.
She gathered her gifts in her arms and bid everyone a goodnight, vowing to find them all on the train in the morning. Then she followed Tom out of the Muggle Studies classroom and up the stairs.
Tom was silent as they climbed three flights. Then he turned to her.
"I like the earrings. A gift?"
Dorcas nodded. "From Cherry and Anneliese."
In his mind, she saw relief that Cal was not giving her jewelry.
"What is it you wanted to show me?" Dorcas asked in order to shift Tom's mind from his jealousy of Cal. She dropped her voice to a whisper. "Is the potion close to finished?"
Tom shook his head. "I've still got to track down a few more ingredients." His voice dropped as well. "Mercury is going to be the tricky one. With any luck I'll have it by the end of the school year."
Dorcas nodded.
When the door to the secret room appeared, Tom opened it and stepped aside to allow Dorcas to enter.
The same feeling of foreboding crept over her that had the last time she was in here. The feeling that this room wanted to sweep her under in a wave of lost and discarded things.
Tom stepped ahead of her on the winding path back to the furniture and blanket cave. Dorcas expected to duck under the opening after him, but he passed the structure by.
She watched him gracefully pick his way back to where the path got narrower and more winding. Her foot grazed a bronze shield and made a terrible racket, causing Tom to jump and spin around to check on her.
"You okay, Birdie?"
"Yeah," she replied. "Clumsy as ever."
Tom reached out for her hand and led her further into the vast room. She walked behind him, clutching his fingers tighter as the heaps of junk seemed to close in over her head.
"I'll have to shift some of this to make the path safer," Tom commented.
They stopped in a clearing that held a squashy burgundy-colored couch and a threadbare oriental rug. Situated on top of the rug was a glossy black grand piano.
Dorcas dropped the gifts she'd been holding in one arm and clapped her hands over her mouth.
"Do you like it?" Tom asked, his hand rubbed at the back of his neck self-consciously.
She felt her eyes bulging in surprise, but the breath was stolen from her lungs at the sight of the instrument and she couldn't manage to answer.
"It's a Christmas present, Birdie. I found it in pieces further back in the secret room. I had to get some of the parts and the wire from London in order to fix it."
Dorcas removed her hands from her mouth in order to stroke the black lacquered lid. There was not a scratch on it. She would never have known that Tom had found it in such a sad state.
"Tom!" Dorcas managed, gasping as tears came to her eyes.
Hogwarts was an amazing place and she loved her time spent here learning about magic. But the one thing she missed from home, besides her family, was her piano. Now she had one that she could play in her free time.
She turned to find him stooping over her discarded presents from her friends. He picked up the sheet music that Jonas had given her and she remembered Jonas saying that Tom gave him the idea for the gift. He'd planned it so that she would have music to play when he'd revealed his gift to her.
"I love it, Tom. Thank you!"
He handed her the music with a wide smile, pleased that she was so happy.
"You're welcome. Play something," he requested.
He stretched out on the couch, settling in to hear her play.
Dorcas clutched the music and moved to the piano's bench, cushioned in a deep blue velvet. When she brushed her fingertips against the keys, she felt a sense that this instrument was truly hers. Pressing down on a chord, Dorcas was impressed to find it perfectly in tune.
She spread the sheet music across the music stand above the keys and read through the first few measures. This was a new piece for her.
The sound box was open and the reverberation on the stone of the vast space created the loveliest cadence.
Dorcas saw Tom close his eyes as the first few notes of the melody drifted over them like a lullaby.
She stumbled a little through a tricky bit of fingering and apologized for spoiling the relaxing ambience.
"You play beautifully, Birdie," Tom encouraged.
She became distracted by the thoughts she heard in Tom's mind. She watched him as he imagined an evening spent alone together in some future house they lived in. He stretched out on a sofa, the cares of the day washing away as she played song after song for him.
It struck Dorcas as extremely sentimental for Tom. And it surprised her that he would have such a pedestrian thought in the first place. But she made no comment on what was in his mind.
Her mind was engaged in a recollection of a different scene. Jack sitting on the sofa in her tiny London flat she shared with her mother and uncle. Jack watching her as she played. Moments later, before she knew what she was doing, she began to sing.
"I'll be seeing you
In every summer's day
In everything that's light and gay
I'll always think of you that way
I'll find you in the morning sun
And when the night is new
I'll be looking at the moon
But I'll be seeing you."
When Dorcas came out of the memory, she saw Tom sitting on the edge of the sofa staring at her.
She ducked her head and felt a blush coming on that she tried to disguise.
"I love to hear you sing, Birdie Birdsong," he said.
Dorcas heard the springs in the couch creak as he rose. And then he was next to her on the bench.
The expression on his face was a curious mix of reverence and hunger, as if he was mesmerized by her gift and wanted to consume it at the same time.
When he leaned into her, she didn't react at first. But when it became clear that he intended to kiss her, Dorcas ducked her head again.
"I didn't get you anything, Tom," Dorcas admitted.
His fingers were winding into her hair, stroking the back of her neck.
"What do you call the secret chamber under the school? And Slytherin's basilisk? That's not nothing, Birdie," Tom responded, his voice low. "You've given me an identity, Birdie. This," he swept a hand across the piano's keys. "Is a poor thank you indeed for everything you've given me."
Dorcas wished he would stop running his fingers along her neck and into her hair.
She wanted to respond that she had to help him. It was a curious impulse. Dorcas wondered why she felt that it was so imperative that she involve herself with the discovery of the chamber, or the schemes to acquire the needed ingredients for the Horcrux potion.
She wouldn't be taking the steps to ensure that her body and soul couldn't die. There was no personal gain from it for her. Maybe, she thought, it was intellectual curiosity. Finding the chamber when others had tried and failed. Collecting rare and impossible items to include in the process of building a Horcrux.
When it came to the final and awful step of the process, the taking of another life in order to split Tom's soul in two, she wondered if she'd be able to be by his side, helping him see this plan to completion. At one time she thought killing someone who deserved it would be a palatable solution to the problem. Now she wasn't sure that even the death of someone who deserved it would absolve her from her part in this.
The thought of Tom doing permanent damage to his soul caused fear to bubble up within her.
Tom's hand on her neck urged her to look at him, prodding her head up and turning it in his direction.
"I have very strong feelings for you, Birdie," Tom admitted. "Stronger than any feeling I've ever had for another person. Ever."
Dorcas held her breath. She wished that he wouldn't make declarations like that to her. She was not free to return his feelings in any case. There was Jack to consider. Even though she'd spent far less time in his company, she knew her feelings for him were stronger than anything she'd felt for Tom.
Even if there hadn't been anything between her and Tom's half-brother, she wondered if she and Tom could ever have a viable future. Would completing the process of building a Horcrux render Tom unable to feel for her what he claimed to feel now? How could dividing your soul not affect the way you relate to or feel about other people?
"Tom," Dorcas whispered breathlessly.
He misread her intentions when she spoke his name. The hand behind her head, with fingers winding into her hair pulled her to him, cutting off any protests she had been planning to make.
When he kissed her, the force of it stunned her momentarily.
But she reacted in the next moment, placing her hands on his chest and pushing him away gently.
"Tom," she began again. "You want to become immortal. You're nearly there. I don't know if I can be with you through it all. I don't know if I can watch you split your soul. You say you have feelings for me. And that may be true–"
"It is true," Tom insisted.
"But I don't want immortality. Our paths will diverge the moment you complete the steps to create a Horcrux." She realized that there were tears on her cheeks, trailing to her chin.
"Merge your path with mine, then."
Dorcas shook her head and closed her eyes. She hadn't realized that she had been holding all of this back from Tom. But now that it had surfaced she knew something was about to happen that would alter their relationship permanently. She didn't want to avoid it, but she braced herself for the impact.
"If you feel for me the way you say you do–"
Tom drew in a breath, ready to insist again that he was earnest in his feelings.
Dorcas lifted a hand from his chest and held it up to stay his words.
"If you feel for me the way you say you do, then stop this quest. Don't search for the last ingredients. Don't take another person's life in order to divide your soul. Abandon it."
Tom's hand disappeared from the back of her neck, dropping into his lap.
"Abandon it?" Tom's voice trembled as he repeated her words.
He seemed unable to stay seated, jumping to his feet instantly.
"Birdie! You ask too much. Ask me for anything else. Ask me for the tallest building or the widest ocean and I'll give it to you. But don't ask me to abandon my dream."
This was precisely what she knew would happen. The idea of ending his pursuit was something he couldn't face. Even if it meant he could have a life of happiness and contentment with the girl he claimed to love.
Dorcas flinched when, in the next moment, she remembered putting a similar challenge to Jack. Instead of pursuing immortality as Tom was, he was chasing deadly adventure.
He'd asked her to support him in his decision to join the war.
She wasn't enough for either of them. Her love didn't fill the void within Tom or Jack.
Dorcas became very sad at the realization.
"You love your dream more than you love me." Dorcas said this in a small voice. It wasn't a question. It was a statement of fact.
"I cannot love you both equally?" Tom asked frantically, kneeling beside her and taking her hands in his.
Dorcas shook her head. "Your dream will divide you into two halves. I will only love you whole, Tom."
Tom dropped her hands as if they burned him. Dorcas watched as he stood and backed away from her. Then he turned and disappeared around a wall of stacked books.
A moment later, Dorcas heard an explosion followed by an avalanche of junk.
She searched Tom's mind to make sure that he wasn't hurt. He'd blown up a mountain of rubbish in a fit of rage, but he was unharmed.
It was best to let him go.
Dorcas turned back to the piano and tried the Debussy one more time.
:::
22 February, 1959 14 South Audley Street, Mayfair, London
Dorcas lay in bed tracing the elaborate coffered ceiling above her in the faint light of the street that crept into her room from the thin curtains.
She heard the comforting sounds of breathing beside her. Her husband's deep, rhythmic drawing in of breath and releasing it, and the shallower breaths of Wren who was tucked under the covers between them.
Moving into this house had been more of an adjustment than she had anticipated.
It was different from the Meadowes property in Devonshire. The vast Hatherleigh estate, Graygable was not a house that held memories for her. She was content to visit the property on holidays. The girls loved the apple orchard and the pond that froze over in the winter for ice skating.
This house was one that Dorcas visited twice before she and Cal had married. The memories of both of those visits were on a list of the worst moments in Dorcas's life.
The first memory was of the evening Cal had walked her home after Cherry's birthday party to find police swarming her building. She'd found out that night that her mother and uncle had been killed while she was away.
Not knowing how to get into contact with Dorcas's uncle, Cal had taken her home with him.
Even now, years later, Dorcas would not enter the room that she'd stayed in that night while she reckoned with her new identity as an orphan.
The second memory came a couple of years later when Cal had taken her with him to tell his parents that Dorcas was pregnant and that he'd asked her to marry him.
She knew the revelation would be a shock to his parents. And she even expected anger.
When Elaine had invited Dorcas to take tea with her in the drawing room and Cal's father had taken him into his study, Dorcas didn't expect the assault that her character would take.
The few times she'd met Cal's mother, Dorcas thought that the woman was kind and generous once her manners and breeding could be surmounted. She'd never treated Dorcas like she was a working class outsider.
Until the day she learned that Dorcas had seduced her son and secured an engagement from him.
She'd even excused Cal's mother when she asked if Dorcas was sure that the baby was Cal's. Because, of course it wasn't. Dorcas and Cal had never slept together. The baby was Tom's.
There was an obvious insinuation that Dorcas had used sex to trap Cal. Elaine had promised Dorcas that she would do everything in her power to persuade her son to see reason and throw Dorcas over for a more suitable match. She'd insisted that Dorcas would never be mistress of this house.
But when she'd heard in Cal's mind the exchange he'd had with his father, that was when she bolted from the sofa in the genteel confines of the drawing room and ran.
To this day, Cal had never told her that his father had explained to him that girls like Dorcas were for practice and that Cal was a fool to develop feelings for her. He conceded that many common girls found themselves pregnant with the bastards of gentlemen, but that the solution was not marriage. He'd slipped Cal an envelope containing cash and the name and address of a Harley Street doctor.
Dorcas had called off the engagement and retreated to the Poplar flat that she'd not lived in since the deaths of her mother and uncle.
Wren's knee kicked out and met her ribs painfully.
It was the nudge Dorcas needed to get up and busy herself. If she laid here any longer, she would become morose and unable to shake the dark mood all day. She was trying hard not to let Cal see that these walls made her uncomfortable.
She found her robe and slippers in the dim light and gently closed the bedroom door behind her.
Cal had been busy while she was recovering in her uncle's house in Yorkshire. He'd moved the entire contents of the Aylesbury house into the Mayfair house, set up his study, a classroom for Wren, and Dorcas's office as well. There was even a new potions laboratory in the lower level of this house.
Dorcas found herself in the kitchen brewing coffee and surveying the vast space. They had a cook and a housekeeper here. Neither one lived on the premises, which Dorcas was grateful for. But they arrived every morning and left in the evening.
She wondered momentarily what her mother would say to all of the servants and luxuries. Would she be resentful that Dorcas's life had become as coddled as the one she'd fled when she was a girl at Blackpool Abbey?
Dorcas pushed away thoughts about her mother and padded with her warm cup into her office.
Cal had all of her degrees and certificates hung on the walls behind her desk, memories and potions lined up in a case along the opposite wall, and her Pensieve arranged on a mahogany table in the corner.
The box of trinkets that she'd pulled from her school trunk in the attic at Graygable lay on her desk.
She picked it up with one hand and held her coffee in the other, curling up on the white couch along one wall.
She removed the little alabaster bird on the silver chain that Tom had given her. When she thought back to the boy who'd given her this, she couldn't fathom how he could become the man who'd hold her down and assault her.
A logical voice reminded Dorcas that this was the same boy who'd beat her and broken her wrist on the Astronomy Tower before he'd given her that token.
She began to think of Tom in terms of dualities. A Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde character who could be her best friend and at other times be a cruel torturer.
"You are in no position to deny me anything," Dorcas whispered as her eyes followed the bird pendant as it dangled in her hand before her. She was repeating Tom's words; words that were seared into her memory along with the feeling of him on top of her, holding her down, relishing in her pain and humiliation.
She didn't want the feeling to be familiar to her. But it was.
She returned to a memory that had been dredged up by the presence of the Dementors at the Muybridge trial.
"You never learn, Birdie! You must learn. You must obey." These were the words she distinctly remembered Tom saying to her as he held her bent over a table, pinned down by magic and…
Dorcas dropped the necklace and it clattered noisily into the box.
She closed her eyes and tried to recall the details of the memory-assault that the Dementors had drawn out of her. It was as if she was recalling something that had been told to her. Not something she actually had a memory of.
The table was wobbly and scratched. As her head was shoved to the side by one of Tom's hands, she recalled her own reflection staring back at her from a shattered mirror. She was sure this attack had happened in the secret room.
But if she had no memory of being raped by Tom during their time at school…
It would have been altered.
Dorcas set the coffee down on the table beside her. It tasted bitter and lukewarm on her tongue. She couldn't swallow it down.
Tom wouldn't have been able to cover up the fact that they'd had sex. Dorcas was sure she'd have the physical evidence of the encounter on her body.
No, he would have altered her memory in order to make her remember a consensual act. A pleasant act. Not an act of violence and terror.
Dorcas choked on bile as it rose in her throat. She didn't want to recall the times that she and Tom were intimate. Not now, knowing that they may all be a lie.
If Dorcas's memories of being with Tom were a sham, did that also mean that Ryann had not been conceived in the manner in which Dorcas had remembered?
As much as she didn't want to recall the intimate memories that she had with Tom, she desperately wanted to heal her mind and liberate herself from his hold on her.
She took a deep breath and lay back against the pillows on the sofa and concentrated on the memory she had of her first time with Tom.
:::
17 May, 1943 Secret Room, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Dorcas lay with her arms raised above her, propping a book open and reading aloud.
The weight of Tom's head on her abdomen was comforting. Every now and then, Dorcas's eyes would flicker from the page to his eyes. He lay on his side, one hand playing with a button on her blouse.
The way he always lay, listening quietly as she read, touching her arm, running his fingers through her hair, rolling a button between his fingers, she was reminded of Peter Pan hiding just beyond the window of the Darling nursery. He was lured by her stories, but she was captivated by the enigma of him.
She lay the book aside and his eyes darted immediately from the button he was concentrating on to her.
"Why did you stop?" he asked, flipping onto his stomach and propping himself up on his elbows.
"I love you, Tom Riddle," Dorcas said. It wasn't an answer. But it was the sentence that was fighting to escape her lips.
Tom blinked. A moment later a bright smile spread across his face. "I love you too, Dorcas Clerey."
Dorcas took his face in her palms, wanting to preserve this perfect look of contentment on his features. She wound her fingers into his hair and gently pulled his lips to hers, kissing him.
Tom shifted his weight so that he didn't have to stretch to meet her lips. He deepened the kiss, nudging her legs apart with his knee so that he could rest his weight over her.
Dorcas felt his hand find her knee, squeezing it, moving higher.
He paused, with his hand on her thigh and his other hand twisted in her curls.
When his eyes met hers, the question that she heard in his mind was more of a plea.
Birdie, I want you. Please say you want me too!
Dorcas didn't open her mouth to respond, but nodded and began to unbutton his shirt.
Tom's mouth came down over hers once more and pressed his hips into her, making it clear exactly how much he wanted her.
A delicious heat began to coil low in her belly as she anticipated his touch.
His hand moved quickly to unbutton her shirt, pulling it free of the waistband of her skirt. His lips left hers swollen from the pressure of his kiss as he bent over her abdomen to kiss the sensitive skin there.
Dorcas's hands were clumsy and struggled with the buttons of his shirt.
Raising up on his knees, Tom deftly undid the rest and slipped the shirt from his shoulders.
She was unable to withstand the space between them, so she sat up and placed her lips against the skin just above his navel.
Tom hissed low at the sensation of her lips and tongue on his stomach and he palmed the bulge in his trousers impatiently.
Tugging her blouse from her shoulders, Tom's eyes fell to her breasts, a hand traveling up her arm to sweep her hair back from her shoulder. He traced the lace trim of the camisole she wore before finding the hem of the garment with his fingers and pulling it up.
Dorcas held her arms over her head as he removed the silky material, leaving her bra the only thing standing between her exposed flesh and Tom's eyes.
Her hands shook when she lifted them to Tom's belt and slipped it free of the clasp.
Tom's fingers wound into her hair once again as she concentrated on undoing his trousers. The moment Dorcas released the zipper, Tom's hand reached for hers and plunged it beneath the waistband of his pants, guiding her fingers around him.
His breathing hitched as Dorcas's fingertips traced the length of him and then he groaned.
Dorcas smirked and decided she liked the way she was able to bring such a sound out of him.
Tom leaned forward and kissed her, coaxing her back into the pillows and blankets of the furniture cave. Ducking his head, his tongue found her taut nipple pressed against the satin of her bra, flicking and teasing it.
It was Dorcas's turn to moan and Tom responded with a thrust into her hand.
She wondered how much it would hurt to have Tom inside of her and even the thought of pain made her feel excited bringing forth a curious sensation between her legs.
Dorcas released him and propped herself onto one elbow in order to undo the fastenings on her bra, removing it and tossing it into the pile of Tom's shirt and her blouse.
"You're magnificent," Tom gasped as he leaned back to survey her.
Dorcas saw herself reflected in his mind and she believed his assessment. When he saw her, she was magnificent. She never wanted him to take his eyes off of her.
Tom slipped a hand under her skirt and pressed his fingers to the place where her knickers had become wet. Impatiently, he pulled the fabric to one side and plunged a finger into her.
Dorcas gasped and caught her lower lip between her teeth.
"Did I hurt you?" Tom asked, pulling his hand away quickly.
Dorcas felt the loss of him and raised her hips up to his wanting him and not knowing exactly what that meant at the same time.
"No," she sighed, smiling up at him. "It just surprised me."
She was surprised again when he lifted the finger he'd plunged into her to his lips, popping it into his mouth, tasting her.
Suddenly, Tom rolled off of her.
Dorcas lay still for a moment, wondering if she'd said or done something to put Tom off this. Then she realized that he was removing the remainder of his clothing. She watched as he raised his hips to slide his trousers and pants down to his ankles and then flicked them toward the cave's entrance with his foot.
He moved too quickly for Dorcas to get a proper look at him, but she supposed there would be plenty of time for her to get acquainted with every inch of his body.
When he turned back to her, he settled lower, and hooked his fingers around the waistband of her panties. She raised her hips as Tom had done and allowed him to slide the white satin material down her legs.
He placed them with her blouse and camisole and bra beside her.
Then he looked back up at her and smirked before disappearing beneath her skirt.
Dorcas's breath hitched again before the most guttural moans burst from the very back of her throat.
She felt her back arch and her toes spread when he began to use his tongue. Unsure of what to do with her hands, Dorcas found herself clawing at the tattered quilts beneath her.
In the next moment an explosive feeling rippled through her and before she realized what he was doing, she'd grabbed fistfulls of his hair and began calling his name.
"Birdie," Tom laughed, emerging from beneath her skirt, wiping his mouth. "I'm going to have a bald spot where you've ripped my hair out by the root."
He watched her come down from her orgasm, following the rise and fall of her chest as she gasped for breath.
"How do you feel?" Tom asked her, nuzzling against her neck, placing kisses on her jaw.
She looked up at the blanketed ceiling of the cave, panting. "I forgot my own name."
Tom picked his head up from her shoulder. "You remembered mine, though," he laughed, covering her mouth with his.
The kiss was rough and hungry and insistent.
Dorcas wrapped her arms around Tom and held him close to her. She could feel his heartbeat in her own chest.
"Do you think you're ready?" he asked, shifting his hips.
He caressed her thigh with the back of his fingers.
Dorcas nodded. "I want you, Tom."
His hand moved from her thigh to take himself in hand, guiding himself into position. Dorcas watched him as he studied her.
"Just relax, Birdie," he coaxed as he kissed her ear and pumped his hips once, pausing when she gasped and pressed her face into his shoulder.
Dorcas felt Tom's hand grip her thigh and pull her leg up and around his hip.
"Move with me. The pain will go away. I promise," he whispered, placing his lips against her neck and breasts as he gently rocked into her again.
She concentrated on the rhythm of his movements and found that he was right. When she moved her hips to meet his, the friction caused her to moan the way his tongue had earlier.
Tom closed his eyes and Dorcas tipped her head back, studying his expression freely.
"You feel incredible, Birdie," he groaned.
His movements sent curious sensations through Dorcas. She was overwhelmed with emotion for him, torn by the pain of accommodating him, and compelled to pull him deeper into her at the same time.
Her hands slipped from his shoulders to his waist and finally to his backside. She squeezed and clawed at the muscles that tightened with each thrust and loosened when he pulled away from her.
She felt his teeth graze her shoulder only to be replaced by the gentle sweep of his lips in the next moment.
Tom's fingers wound into her hair as he grunted her pet name. His thrusts became less careful and controlled. At the same time, Dorcas felt that explosive feeling once more that had overtaken her when his face was between her legs.
"Tom," she gasped, feeling an uncontrollable shaking in her legs as she wrapped them around him.
His eyes flicked to hers, the deep brown of them blown wide.
"Birdie," he answered her, seeming to convulse as he buried himself deeply within her.
He shuddered and Dorcas felt a strange wetness between her legs, warm and sticky.
Tom rolled off of her, chest heaving. He grabbed Dorcas's hand and pressed it to his heart.
"Was that good?" Dorcas asked when the silence became too heavy.
Tom's head rolled to the side. He seemed unable to move any further.
"Good? It was fucking brilliant, Birdie," he panted, lifting her hand from his chest and kissing it.
He blinked a couple of times as if working to bring her into focus, then he inhaled sharply and raised up on one elbow.
"Why are you crying, little Birdie?" he asked her, pulling her to his chest.
"I didn't realize I was," Dorcas admitted.
She fell asleep in his arms sometime later.
:::
22 February, 1959 14 South Audley Street, Mayfair, London
Dorcas dropped to her knees when she surfaced from the memory in her Pensieve.
How many more memories like this one were a lie?
She'd only needed to analyze the memory one time in order to confirm its alteration. In the first part of the memory Tom had carefully constructed a beautiful moment that built up to him taking her virginity. He'd removed every stitch of clothing between them except for her skirt. But when he'd rushed to describe his enjoyment of her, the details began to unravel, including the removal of that last item of clothing. Dorcas noticed that she was no longer wearing it and had no memory of Tom taking it off of her.
Was it all a fabrication? Her entire relationship with Tom?
Every "I love you." Every kiss they shared. Was it all a cover for abuse and torture?
Her eyes drifted over the cabinet to her left. It was no longer filled with memories that she was helping patients to analyze and cope with. It was filled now with only her own past.
It all amounted to nothing. Her entire past had been corrupted by Tom Riddle. The boy she'd told on numerous occasions that she loved. And he'd taken that love and used it to chain her to him. Every interaction she remembered with him had a demented, dark underlayer.
Did she really want to uncover her own rape? Countless violations? Could she face down her abuser in every memory?
She thought not.
When she stood, there was an overwhelming urge that began in her toes and pulled at her body as it rose in her. Like an undertow when the tide goes out. You want to give in to it as it tugs you into the depths. You take a step. And then another.
But you begin to fight it and push toward the shore.
Dorcas felt the weariness in her limbs. She couldn't battle to the shore. The waves were too big and the depths too alluring.
She reached for her wand where it lay beside the Pensieve.
With a cry of rage that erupted somewhere deep within her, Dorcas directed a spell at the cabinet filled with her glittering past.
When the cabinet exploded, Dorcas didn't shield herself from the spray of glass.
She recalled the words of Tom disguised as Cal when the frame on their wedding picture shattered.
"Glass" he'd warned her as she knelt in front of him to undo his belt at the front of his trousers.
Dorcas wouldn't be used by Tom Riddle another moment.
"Mistress?" the housekeeper called from the hallway. A moment later she'd opened the office door and gasped at the mess and the shards of glass surrounding Dorcas. "Don't move! You'll cut yourself. Let me fetch the broom."
Echoing the words she'd said to Cal who was really Tom, Dorcas growled, "Forget the glass!"
Dorcas felt the sting of jagged pieces as they bit into her knees through her nightgown. Into her hip and shoulder as she fell to her side.
An odd thought fluttered into her mind just then. This was familiar, a bed of glass, the tiny pricks to her skin. This had happened before.
Of course it had, Dorcas reasoned as she closed her eyes.
Death by a thousand cuts. Or a thousand scars upon her mind.
"Damn you, Tom," Dorcas sighed before finally going limp and letting the tide wash her out to sea.