Chapter 52
23 December, 1941 Hogwarts Express
Dorcas had been in a good mood all day yesterday until her conversation with Tom.
But she couldn't settle on who was to blame for that exchange. Of course, Tom had taken her ultimatum badly. She knew he would, so why make one in the first place?
And then her mental comparison of Tom's rejection to Jack's unwillingness to abandon his quest for war glory had additionally irked her.
It had irked her so much that she returned from the secret room last night to her dormitory and penned a letter to Jack, despite having written him one that morning.
In it she confessed how hurt she was that he did not choose to stay with her, instead choosing to enlist before he was even old enough to legally do so. She accused him of being a liar when he wrote that he loved her. She told him that he was running away from his problems instead of facing them. At the end of it she begged him to come back to her immediately.
Ultimately, she decided to throw the tearstained paper into the fire burning low in her dormitory's fireplace.
It was unfair to project all of her feelings of insecurity onto him. And he was so far away and unable to reassure her and comfort her.
Did she really expect him to desert and cross a war-torn continent because she demanded he do so in a letter?
You won't even admit to Tom that you're still writing to him. Who's the coward?
Dorcas drew a cat's face in the condensation on the window and watched as heavy water droplets trailed tears through it.
She felt the train carriage fill with other passengers, but she didn't look up to greet them. It would be Cherry and Anneliese and their sweethearts.
Bing leapt from her lap in order to settle onto Anneliese's.
"Dorcas? You look troubled."
Dorcas jumped at the sound of her name and turned to the speaker. Her eyes took a minute to pull Anneliese into focus.
She smiled, knowing that the empty gesture didn't quite meet her eyes. "I'm fine."
The seat next to her was taken by Cal.
"I have something for you," he said, bending to retrieve an item from his school bag at his feet.
Dorcas watched as he produced a gold foil wrapped gift with a red and green bow.
"Sorry that I couldn't give it to you yesterday," Cal added, handing her the present.
Dorcas took the gift from him, noticing that her gift to him was laying open on the carriage seat on the other side of him.
"What do you think?" Dorcas asked, gesturing to the open book while she tore the paper from her own gift.
"It's great! I haven't been able to put it down," Cal replied, smiling broadly.
"Did you know that there are one hundred and three symptoms related to Spattergroit?" Dorcas recited. She'd read Cal's present, Compendium of Common Complaints and Calamitous Catastrophes. It listed every disease known to Wizarding kind as well as spells to heal breaks, bruises, and burns.
Cal gasped. "Don't spoil it for me!
She smiled and turned her attention back to the gold foil. Laughter erupted from Dorcas when she pulled a medical text out of the paper.
"Seems we were of a similar mind when we did our Christmas shopping," Cal explained, laughing with her.
Dorcas studied the cover of the book she'd been given. The Anatomy of Anamnesis: How Memories Are Made and Stored.
"I remember you saying to me that you wanted to be a healer one day. Maybe do something to help people like your uncle with mental challenges. I thought maybe this could be a start." Cal rubbed his palms on his trousers as he watched her study the book.
"It's a Muggle book," Dorcas observed.
"Yes," Cal confirmed.
Dorcas opened the cover and began reading. "This is fantastic, Cal. Thank you!"
"Happy Christmas, Clerey!"
"Happy Christmas, Cal."
:::
22 February, 1959 14 South Audley Street, Mayfair, London
Dorcas saw the memory of her first time with Tom playing out in her mind once again.
"Just relax, Birdie," Tom coaxed as he kissed her ear and pumped his hips once, pausing when she gasped and pressed her face into his shoulder.
Her eyes fluttered open, wanting to shove the scene away.
She was in her new bedroom in the Mayfair house. Cal came into focus at the side of her bed, his hand sweeping across her forehead.
"This is becoming a pattern," he said, smiling.
Dorcas studied his face and decided that the smile looked sad.
"I'm sorry, Cal."
His brows pulled together.
"For what?"
"For going crazy and smashing the cabinet," Dorcas supplied, pushing herself up into a sitting position.
Cal's hands reached for her pillows, fluffing them for her.
"You're not crazy. You're hurting and I wish I knew how to help you."
"You went to all of the trouble to set that office up for me and I destroyed it at the first opportunity."
"Did it help?"
Dorcas cocked her head to one side. "Did what help?"
"Smashing the cabinet. Because if it did, I'll have a new one delivered for you to smash every day."
Dorcas smiled.
"It's a little Freudian, isn't it?" She played with the hem of the sheet across her lap. "I literally smashed my past. All of the memories in that cabinet were ones I'd searched through already for alterations."
"You found a new one," Cal added. His voice was thick with emotion.
Dorcas realized that it wasn't her mind replaying the memory of her first time with Tom. It was Cal's
"You saw it?" Dorcas asked. It wasn't an accusation, just a confirmation.
Cal nodded.
"I needed to know what happened, my love. I wouldn't invade your privacy otherwise."
Dorcas placed a hand over his as it rested on her thigh.
"I'm glad you saw it. Did you catch the alteration?"
"Your skirt. It was pretty obvious."
Cal opened his mouth as if to say more. Then he closed it again.
"What is it, Cal?" Dorcas prompted.
"I want you to know that I can take it, Dorcas. All of these memories. You can share them with me. I want to know everything. I want to be able to help you."
Dorcas felt tears in her eyes again. Her constant state these days seemed to be a sobbing mess. She didn't quite know how to turn off the tears.
"I know I'm a lot, Cal," Dorcas wept. "I'm trying to be better. Please don't give up on me!"
Cal moved from the chair beside the bed to the place next to her, pulling her into his chest and wrapping her up in his arms.
"No, beloved! I won't give up on you. Not ever!"
When she'd caught her breath finally she tried to tell Cal what she'd discovered.
"That time last month, when I thought–" her voice broke on a sob and Cal rubbed her arm encouragingly. "When I thought it was you."
Cal nodded, his lips pressed to her temple.
"That wasn't the first time Tom forced me."
"I figured it was something like that," Cal replied, his breath tickling the hair at her ear.
Dorcas drew in a shuddering breath. "What if Ryann was…"
She couldn't finish the thought without choking.
If Cal hadn't been holding on to her so tightly, Dorcas wondered if she wouldn't just break into a million jagged pieces.
"Would it change how you feel about Ryann if she was?" Cal asked.
Dorcas thought about the intuitive, sensitive, funny girl. Her heart swelled when she thought about her Ryann.
"No."
Cal shrugged.
"There's your answer. She's going to be something amazing, Dorcas. She already is. Let's not focus on the circumstances that brought her to us. I'm just grateful she's here and I get to be her dad."
The benefit of being able to read thoughts is that Dorcas could detect insincerity a mile away. Cal had never once been anything but sincere in his thoughts and words concerning Ryann. He loved her. That was something that Dorcas could never doubt.
She continued to sob into Cal's chest while he stroked her hair.
"I'm here, my love. Ready to hear anything you want to tell me. To help you in any way I might."
"Thank you, Cal."
"Oh, my love! You're very welcome!"
:::
23 December, 1941 King's Cross Station, London
No one was at the station to meet Dorcas. Her mother had written to tell her that she would already be on a train to Cardiff to bring Morty home for the holiday.
She hung back when all of her friends gathered their things and made their way out to the platform. Making a production out of getting Bing into his carrier, Dorcas used the pretense to give the other students a chance to say goodbyes and head for home.
Not sure why she didn't want anyone to know that her mother was not meeting her train, Dorcas pushed a self-conscious feeling down, hoping that no one would notice that she was alone.
When sufficient time had passed in Dorcas's estimation, she pulled her trunk and her cat's basket down the corridor.
She couldn't help that her eyes swept the crowded platform for her mother. She wouldn't be here, but Dorcas hoped maybe her train would come in at the same time as her mother and uncle's.
"Is your mother running late?" Cal asked, pulling his trunk up beside her as she stood scanning the crowd.
"She's fetching my uncle home from the institution he's been living in," Dorcas explained.
"May I escort you home?" The look on Cal's face was hopeful. Dorcas felt bad turning him down.
"I have money for a cab."
"Please let me drive you, Dorcas," he responded. "It would be my pleasure. And Parker's."
"Alright," Dorcas conceded. She allowed Cal to take her trunk along with his, leaving her to carry Bing's basket.
"You're rather independent for someone your age, aren't you?" observed Cal.
Dorcas turned to look up at him as they walked out of King's Cross. She was reminded of her Uncle Lysander and his assessment of Mary-Ellen's laissez-faire parenting.
"My mother's very busy," Dorcas replied carefully. "I don't mind getting home by myself."
"You're very capable, Dorcas. But I would feel better seeing you home. Thank you for indulging me."
"Won't your mother and father be expecting you?" Dorcas asked.
"My mother's in Croydon visiting my brother. My father's probably home. But he won't be expecting me," Cal supplied. In his head he added, "He never is."
Dorcas walked silently beside Cal until Parker met them to take the trunks.
"Master Cal. Miss Clerey," Parker said, tipping his driver's cap in Dorcas's direction.
"Hello, Parker," Dorcas greeted, smiling.
Cal opened the door for her and slipped into the backseat beside her. Dorcas placed Bing at her feet and pulled out the memory book that Cal had given her for something to do.
"It's funny, isn't it?" Cal asked.
Dorcas looked from the book to Cal and then back to the book. She didn't get the joke.
"What is?"
"That we both thought to give each other medical texts because we're both interested in healing."
Dorcas smiled. "That is funny!"
The conversation fell into a lull immediately and Dorcas turned back to her book. The only sound besides the automobile's engine was the shushing of Dorcas's fingertips as they turned the page.
Cal's mind was a distraction on its own.
He ran through a litany of things to say to her, dismissing each one as not being clever enough or sincere enough for her to hear.
Dorcas didn't understand why things had to be this awkward between them. They'd been friends for years now.
"I'm sorry you missed the gift-giving yesterday," Dorcas said.
"I was sorry to have missed you. I turned up a little late, but you'd already left," explained Cal.
Dorcas nodded.
"What were you helping Rubeus with?"
Cal shifted in his seat to look at Dorcas. "Transfiguration. He received poor marks on his final essay. Dumbledore allowed him to redo it and he needed my help."
"You're a good friend, Cal," Dorcas replied.
"Not as good as I should be," Cal mumbled, eyes falling to his hands clasped in his lap.
Dorcas watched him. She didn't get his meaning. "I don't know how you could be any better. You're always looking out for him. You spend a lot of time helping him."
"I could spend less time pursuing other things and more time helping him. He's really struggling. With more than just coursework."
"Pursuing what other things?" Dorcas asked.
She detected a slight flush in Cal's cheeks. He didn't lift his eyes to meet hers, keeping them trained instead on his hands.
"Well, I tutor you and Reina in Arithmancy. I have endless Quidditch practices. I have little time left for Hagrid," said Cal.
"You've always looked out for Hagrid. I know he appreciates it. And besides, Tom should be tutoring Reina. She's his partner. And I don't need to take up anymore of your time. I've got the hang of it now."
Cal looked up from his hands and shot her a quick smile. "I only started looking out for Hagrid because you asked me to. And I know you don't need my help anymore, but I look forward to our time in the library."
Dorcas leaned back against the plush leather of the seat and thought about this.
Parker seemed to sense that the conversational drought had returned and flicked on the radio for some ambient noise.
"A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square" was playing and Dorcas began to hum.
Cal's mind flickered back to the Halloween dance remembering her as she performed this song on the stage in butterfly wings.
"This song reminds me of you," Cal said after listening to her for some time. "You have a beautiful voice."
"Thank you," Dorcas returned, blushing at the compliment. "That was the first time I performed in front of an audience–Well, sang in front of an audience. I was very nervous."
"Where do you play?" Cal asked.
Dorcas shrugged. "Just a little club in the East End where my neighbor sings, Betty. I help out on the piano sometimes. It's fun."
"A club?" Cal's eyebrows lifted in surprise. "You're fourteen!"
Dorcas shrugged off his surprise. "We grow up faster here on the dodgy side."
"But someone's looking out for you when you're there, right?"
Dorcas laughed off Cal's concern. "I sit behind a piano all night. It's not exactly dangerous work, Cal."
The conversation died out once more and Dorcas was grateful to see her street come into view in Parker's windscreen.
"Thank you for the ride. Have a Happy Christmas, Cal." Dorcas bent to grab Bing's basket, reaching under the lid to scratch her cat's ear as a reward for not making a fuss.
"Wait, I'll walk you inside," Cal said, opening the door and offering her a hand.
"Okay," Dorcas conceded. She turned and waved to Parker, who was unloading her trunk. "Thank you, Parker. Have a Happy Christmas!"
"Happy Christmas, Miss," Parker replied, handing Cal the trunk.
When Cal came to her flat on two previous occasions, she'd been distracted by other thoughts. Two Christmases ago, he'd brought her home after meeting her at the hospital. Her uncle had been injured and her mind was mostly spent berating herself for not handling the situation better. This past summer, Cal had surprised her and offered to take her to Cherry's party. Her mind was occupied then with a letter she'd just received from Jack.
But now, as Cal followed her inside, she wasn't distracted. She was very aware of the differences in their circumstances. Did Cal find her humble flat irksome? Her grimy environs beneath him?
When she peeked into his mind, he wasn't thinking about his surroundings at all. He was debating whether it was right to leave Dorcas by herself in the flat.
"I'll be fine," Dorcas soothed, taking her key out of her pocket and inserting it into the lock. "I'm home alone a lot, Cal."
He smiled nervously at her and laughed a little. "Can you read my mind?"
Dorcas felt her eyes bulge at the question and she ducked her head, pretending to concentrate on the lock. That was stupid, Dorcas!
She set down the basket and released Bing.
"Is it that obvious that I worry about you?" Cal asked, pulling her trunk into the kitchen and sitting room area.
"It's sweet," Dorcas allowed. "Just leave the trunk there."
Cal set her school trunk down and moved toward her. "I can stay, if you like."
"Don't fuss! I'll see you after the New Year," Dorcas replied, taking his hands and squeezing them affectionately.
Cal pulled her into a tight hug. Dorcas had to stand on her toes or else be lifted off the ground by the tall boy.
"Bye, then," Cal said, slowly releasing her.
"Bye, Cal."
:::
25 February, 1959 Wizengamot Courtroom 9, Ministry of Magic, London
Caradoc Dearborn was extremely impatient today.
When he found Dorcas and Cal in the hallway outside of the courtroom chatting to Lysander Rackharrow's portrait, he nearly shouted at them like unruly children.
"You realize that the entire trial's proceedings have been halted for you, don't you, Dr. Meadowes?" Dearborn commented.
"I apologize, counselor," Dorcas replied dryly. "Had I known that my ill health would inconvenience you so much, I would have endeavored to be well."
She felt Cal's warm hand spread out along the small of her back. It calmed her.
Dearborn did not look chastened in any measure by her sarcasm. He turned on his heel and led her to the bench.
Dorcas waited apprehensively as the judge took his place.
When the bailiffs opened the doors to bring in the accused, Dorcas cast a furtive glance back to Cal. She was worried about how she would fare in front of the Dementors today.
The camera flashes strobed in front of her eyes, causing her to press her eyelids closed.
She braced for the cold and joyless feeling the Dementors brought with them into the courtroom. But it didn't come.
Muybridge was seated between two Aurors who were holding chains. The chains were attached to Muybridge's ankles and wrists. Two more Aurors held wands trained on the accused.
Fabian Prewett held one of the wands pointing at Muybridge.
Wes Rookwood stepped into her line of sight and smiled at her.
"How are we today, Mrs. Meadowes?"
At the same moment she thought, Prick! a twin thought came to her from her husband's mind.
Dorcas couldn't help turning back to look at him and smile.
Cal winked at her and smiled back.
"Fine," Dorcas answered. She couldn't seem to wipe the smile off of her face.
And it appeared to unsettle Wes, which made her smile more.
"Quite recovered from your fainting fit?"
"I am. It's kind of you to ask."
"Last time we spoke, you were telling all of us how you became pregnant while you were at school and had to drop out early."
"That's partially correct," Dorcas responded. "I did become pregnant while at school. But I finished my schooling early. I did not drop out."
"And you went on to earn degrees from Columbia University?"
"That's correct."
"In New York?"
"Yes, in New York."
"A Muggle school? In America?"
Dorcas inhaled. Here we go again!
"Yes. A Muggle school. A world-class institution. In America."
"Where you studied neurobiology and psychiatry?"
"Yes."
Wes cocked his head to the side. "All while raising a child?"
"Yes, I'm quite resourceful."
"And how long have you had your own psychiatry practice, Mrs. Meadowes?"
"I began my practice in nineteen-fifty-five. In New York. When I moved back to London in nineteen-fifty-seven, I opened one here."
Wes nodded.
"And why is your practice no longer open?"
"I am on sabbatical." Dorcas felt her teeth grinding. Gideon and Caradoc had assured her that all parties involved had agreed that her son's death would not be brought up while she was on the witness stand.
She saw Dearborn sitting behind the prosecution's table with his fingers steepled. Why wasn't he objecting?
"Why have you taken a sabbatical? As I understand it, the Allen case has catapulted you into fame. You must have clients beating down your doors."
"I'm taking time to focus on my family right now," Dorcas replied with a stiff smile stretching her cheeks.
It's alright, darling. You can handle this. Cal encouraged her.
"After the death of your son, you mean?" Wes pried with an innocent raise of his eyebrows.
"Objection," Caradoc Dearborn finally called, standing and glaring at Rookwood. "He's leading the witness, Your Lordship."
"Sustained," Warlock Skandenberg barked. "We have established that Dr. Meadowes is taking a sabbatical. Move on, counselor."
Wes nodded, looking a bit chastised by the judge.
"Were you present on the night that my client was arrested?" Wes asked, turning to point to Muybridge.
Dorcas couldn't help following his gesture with her eyes, meeting Stephen Muybridge's.
"Yes."
"Why were you there? You are not a member of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement?"
"I was asked, along with my husband, as guests of the investigation."
"Why would the DMLE need your assistance?"
Dorcas turned again to find her husband behind the prosecutor's bench. He nodded encouragingly to her.
You can answer, Dorcas. It's not a crime.
Dorcas inhaled, trying to fortify herself for the answer she knew she had to give.
"I can hear the thoughts of others," Dorcas said in a rush.
Cameras began to flash; their shutters hammering furiously. Dorcas was about to become the front page of every Wizarding newspaper on the continent.
So much for my career.
It was apparent that Wes had not expected her to say this. His eyes were wide and his jaw hung slack.
"You didn't go there to hunt down Muybridge yourself?"
Dorcas gave a thin-lipped smile. "Muybridge had twenty men with him there that night. I didn't go there to kill him."
"Why did the DMLE need a Legilimens with them that night?"
"Muybridge used Polyjuice Potion to make replicas of himself. There were decoy Muybridges all over the place. I was the only one who could tell the real one from the fakes."
Muybridge caught her eyes just then and licked his lips.
It was a subtle gesture, but one meant to unsettle Dorcas.
Can you hear me right now? He projected the thought out to her.
Dorcas felt her heart hammering against her ribcage.
I killed your baby. And I'm going to get away with it. I'm going to walk out of here. And then I'm coming for you, dirty bitch!
Her ears were ringing with his words. I'm coming for you, dirty bitch!
I want you to know that I can get to you anytime. Anywhere.
"Mrs. Meadowes?" Wes asked.
Dorcas blinked and looked away from Muybridge.
"Sorry," Dorcas said, blinking furiously. Trying to remember what Rookwood had asked. "What was the question?"
"I said I had no further questions. You may step down, Mrs. Meadowes."
Dorcas retreated from the stand as quickly as she could, but instead of taking her seat next to Cal behind the prosecution's bench, she walked briskly out of the courtroom to a hale of camera flashes.
Cal found her in the hallway staring at Lysander's empty portrait frame.
Stephen Muybridge must never be let out of prison. He ought to spend the rest of his miserable life in that hellhole.
His voice had blended with Tom's, one threat overlapping another. She felt beset upon from all sides.
When Cal touched her shoulder, Dorcas gasped loudly.
"That was brave."
Dorcas began to sob. "It wasn't brave. I'm not brave."
"Nonsense, Dorcas. You're the bravest person I know."
She wished that were true.
"I want Tom to go to prison," Dorcas added suddenly, from nowhere.
"What?" Cal asked, shaking his head, not understanding where the conversation had jumped tracks.
"I'm tired of being afraid of him. I want him to go to prison. I want him out of my life, Cal."
"Okay. I'll reach out to the Prewetts. They'll know how we ought to proceed."
Dorcas let out a ragged breath and nodded, agreeing to Cal's plan.
"Now let's get out of here before the press begins to swarm."
:::
23 December, 1941 Number 19 Strattondale, Poplar
Dorcas pasted another link to the paper chain she was building while Betty pulled cinnamon biscuits out of the oven.
The flat smelled heavenly and warm and Dorcas was excited to be home for Christmas this year.
She was determined to make the house merry for Morty and her mother when they came home from their long trip from Wales.
"How are the gang at the Dahlia?" Dorcas asked after her sometime bandmates at the club she'd played over the summer.
"Fine. We all missed you, though. You add a bit of glamour to the act," Betty teased.
Dorcas knew that her novelty was in being young, not glamorous. That was Betty's angle.
"You free any while you're on holiday? Care to join us some nights?" Betty asked.
Dorcas's shoulders dropped. "Not while Morty's here. If my mum is working nights, I'll have to look after him."
She missed the thrill of playing the club. It was full of energy and excitement. But she would not waste this precious time she got to spend with her uncle for anything.
"Not excited to see him?" Betty asked, placing the biscuits on a rack to cool.
"No, I am excited. I just wonder how he'll be. He seemed okay in his letters. But I don't know."
"He's an absolute romantic in the letters he sends to me," Betty said, laughing.
Dorcas counted the links on her paper chain. She thought a few more might make it long enough to hang on the piano.
"You shouldn't encourage him. I think he has real feelings for you, Betty," Dorcas cautioned.
She caught a small smile on Betty's face, as if reacting to something that hadn't been said aloud.
Dorcas resisted the urge to pry into Betty's thoughts. Maybe she should talk to Morty and let him down gently about Betty.
"How's Jack?" Betty asked, changing the subject.
It was Dorcas's turn to smile like she had a secret. "He's good. He's stationed in North Africa, Egypt."
Betty stopped her work in the kitchen and turned to Dorcas.
"Egypt! How exciting!"
Dorcas laughed. "He doesn't think so. He's a driver. He takes supplies from the port to the barracks all day long. I think he dreamed of more adventure."
"He thinks he wants adventure. But I'm sure he's glad to be away from the fighting," Betty replied.
"I know I'm glad he's out of the fighting. He's not even supposed to be in the war!"
Her annoyance with Jack and Tom sprang up within her again and she fought to push it down.
She pinned the paper chain to the piano and set about folding red and green paper cranes.
"But he is. And there's nothing you can do but keep up his spirits. Send him another photograph for Christmas."
Dorcas looked at the wonky paper crane in her hand. Morty was better at this. She smirked, imagining the joy it will give him to critique her origami skills. She intentionally made them all wonky.
"Let's pop up to my place after supper and pick out something that will knock his eyes out of his head!"
Dorcas blushed, but agreed. She hadn't gotten Jack anything for Christmas.
:::
26 February, 1959 14 South Audley Street, Mayfair, London
Dorcas woke with Muybridge's words in her mind. I'm coming for you, dirty bitch!
She lay in bed, thinking over the events of the day, the trial. Wes's questions. Her answers.
Cal's breathing was deep and soothing beside her.
It was the first night that they hadn't shared their bed with Wren.
Dorcas's mind reached out for Wren's and found her youngest dreaming peacefully.
Cal's dream caught her attention. He was reliving their first time together.
How blissful their marriage must be, if his fantasies consisted of replaying moments spent in the arms of his wife.
Dorcas snuggled closer to him, resting her cheek on his chest and wrapping her leg around his. She would allow his dreaming to take away her disturbing thoughts of Stephen Muybridge.
This memory was the moment that Dorcas knew she was in love with Cal. She'd heard him in the nursery talking to Ryann and she just knew.
A smile crept onto her lips when she remembered the way she ambushed him when he was sneaking back into their bedroom, thinking Dorcas was asleep.
Instead, Dorcas was sitting at the end of their bed.
"Clerey," Cal said, a note of concern in his voice. "What is it? Are you unwell?"
Dorcas looked up from her hands clasped in her lap and he could see she'd been crying.
"I'm sorry," she choked.
Looking at her with an expression of bewilderment, Cal stood by the door, unsure of what to do or say.
Dorcas took his lack of response as confirmation that she'd done wrong. She'd left him alone in this. He'd been the one to hold it all together. The strain must have been immense.
"Dorcas, it's late and you're tired," Cal finally said, excusing away her guilt.
"I'm not tired," Dorcas said, suddenly feeling more alert, more herself than she'd felt in a year. "For once I'm wide awake and I see things clearly now." She stood up as if to demonstrate how aware she was.
Cal's hair was tousled from interrupted sleep, his eyes blinked with exhaustion. Dorcas found the sight incredibly endearing. Seeing him with adoration now quickly turned to longing. It would be incredibly selfish now to deprive him of his final hours of sleep before he was needed in the hospital laboratory. But she wanted to indulge in selfishness a while longer and hoped he wanted the same thing.
Dorcas dropped her robe from her shoulders and unbuttoned her nightgown.
"Dorcas," Cal asked apprehensively. "What are you doing?"
Slipping her nightgown from her shoulders, she felt the chill of the late January morning, but was warmed as his gaze fell on her.
She could hear his thoughts as clearly as if he were speaking to her. He was paralyzed with unbelief. He was unwilling to allow himself to think that this was actually happening. She felt the desire that he projected, but a stronger current of complete adoration for her fortified it. She had never experienced the force of such a love as that which he felt for her. But he was rooted to the spot, as if to move might cause the spectre of her wanting him to vanish completely.
Dorcas realized she would have to initiate contact in order for Cal to accept that this was real.
She stepped out of her nightgown that had pooled at her feet and covered the three or four paces between them. Her hands found the hem of his undershirt and pulled it upward. Cal lifted his arms and slipped the shirt off when her hands could no longer reach.
Cal, finally accepting that his wife was seducing him, touched her cheek lightly and then lifted her chin so that her lips could meet his.
"Are you sure, Dorcas?" Cal asked, his voice was low and rough with expectation.
Dorcas breached the centimeters between his mouth and hers and at the same time felt for the drawstring of his pajamas and untied them in answer.
Needing no more reassurance or encouragement, Cal grabbed Dorcas around the waist and carried her to their bed.
"I love you, Cal," Dorcas breathed as he kissed her neck.
He gasped and abandoned his attentions at her throat. He looked at her with wide eyed astonishment.
"Truly?" he asked. Dorcas could just make out tears in Cal's eyes in the near darkness of the room.
She lifted her head from the pillow and kissed the tear from his cheek.
"I've been stupid and blinded by the feelings I once had for someone else. But I don't feel that way anymore, Cal. I love you. I want you."
Cal pressed his lips to hers.
"I've waited a long time to hear you say that!"
Dorcas responded by slipping her fingers beneath the waistband of his pajamas. Her fingers found him stiff and straining against the cotton confines of his pants.
Cal groaned at her touch and thrust into her hand.
"I love you, Cal," she repeated.
"Dorcas, I love you too."
He impatiently pushed the waistband of his pajamas down his hips. Dorcas helped him, not wanting a stitch of clothing between them any longer.
"I want you inside me," Dorcas whispered in Cal's ear, taking him in hand and guiding him.
Dorcas was surprised by her own boldness. The look on Cal's face told her that she was not the only one who was surprised.
Cal placed a hand on her thigh and cautiously pressed his hips into her.
Dorcas was overwhelmed by the feeling of being this close to him. It felt more right than anything else had ever felt in her life.
She bit her bottom lip, trying to keep a loud moan from escaping her.
Cal stopped. "Dorcas, did I hurt you?"
Dorcas smiled. "No. I'm trying not to wake Ryann."
Cal retreated from her, leaving her feeling hollow and empty without him.
She lay beneath him and watched as he raised his wand and whispered, "Muffliato!"
"Feel free to scream my name as loud and as often as you want to," he encouraged, grabbing her thigh and thrusting into her once again.
"Cal!" Dorcas gasped, her toes curling and her head thrown back into the pillow.
He hungrily devoured the sound of her ecstasy, placing his lips over hers.
Pulling away from her once again, Cal studied her.
"You're exquisite, Dorcas," he proclaimed.
She didn't know what to say to that. So she ran her fingers down his abdomen, delighting in the way his muscles spasmed under her touch.
"You're everything, Cal!"
Dorcas's voice hitched when his tongue met her right nipple as his hands explored and massaged her breasts.
She was mortified when she realized she'd begun to leak milk.
"Oh, no!" she gasped, covering her breasts with the palms of her hands. She mentally kicked herself for ruining such a wonderful moment. She should have remembered to pump so that she wasn't so full. "I'm so embarrassed!" she admitted, squeezing her eyes shut against the horrified look that she was sure Cal would be wearing.
Cal only breathed out a gentle laugh.
Dorcas's eyes flew open at the unexpected reaction. She allowed Cal to pull her hands away from her chest.
"You have nothing to be embarrassed about, beloved," he reassured her. "Literally everything you do drives me mad with desire." She gasped again in pleasant surprise when he ran his tongue in a languid arc along the curve of her breast where liquid had begun to pool.
Cal repeated the motion with her left breast, gently squeezing to express fluid and then lapping it up as it tricked into the valley between.
He sped up the pace of his thrusts as he tasted her, causing Dorcas to cry out with unfettered pleasure. The way he dissolved the walls that she'd thrown up between them since marrying him made her desire for him now nearly uncontrollable.
Her hands came to rest on his backside. She squeezed the taut muscles and then ran her fingernails across the delicate skin.
Cal hissed, pressing his hips into her once again.
"You're going to leave marks!" he replied, obeying as her hands directed him to keep pumping his hips.
"I'm sorry! I'll be gentle," Dorcas breathed.
"No! Don't be gentle! Those marks may be the only proof I have that this wasn't all just an amazing dream!"
Dorcas laughed, but that laugh soon became the swelling cry of his name as she crested an orgasm.
"My name on your lips as you come might be the most beautiful sound in the world!" Cal panted, laying his head on her chest, listening to the thumping of her heart.
Dorcas wondered if they could be like that newlywed couple again. Or had too much happened between them?
Her hand glided over Cal's torso and he shuddered in sleep, perhaps remembering coming inside of her.
She clung to him, pressing her lips to his chest. He moaned in response.
There was a hardness against her thigh that told her that her husband had been aroused by the dream he was having. She had been too.
Dorcas hesitated, feeling him pressing against her thigh. She imagined Cal waking, leaning over her, kissing her. She wanted him, but she felt a fear in that.
Her mind was filled with memories of being with Cal, but they kept flashing alternately to Tom, disguised as Cal, holding her down, hurting her.
She pulled her hand back from Cal, balling it into a fist instead.
Suddenly, Cal moved, shifting his weight over top of her.
Dorcas felt the overwhelming sense of being suffocated. She remembered how impossible it was to breathe with Tom's fingers crushing her throat.
Cal's leg nudged hers to the side, allowing him to settle his hips between her legs.
Dorcas stifled a cry and pushed at Cal's shoulder, trying to pry herself from beneath him.
"Dorcas?" Cal asked, groggily propping himself on his elbows.
She covered her face with her hands, feeling an awful pang of guilt for her reaction.
"Christ, sweetheart! I'm so sorry!" Cal replied, shifting off of her and pushing himself away.
Dorcas wanted to soothe him and to tell him that it wasn't his fault. But she couldn't get words to come out.
The room became brighter when Cal rolled over and flicked on the bedside lamp.
"Dorcas, please talk to me," Cal pleaded.
Dorcas took her hands away from her face to find Cal hovering over her, but afraid to touch her.
She sat up and reached for him instead.
Cal held her and stroked her hair as she cried. He apologized over and over.
Dorcas shook her head. "You don't have anything to be sorry about, Cal. I want you too. But when you were on top of me," her voice hitched on a sob. "And I couldn't breathe," Dorcas tried to explain.
"It's too soon. I know, Dorcas. I'm not pushing you to do anything. I'll sleep in a different room, if you like."
She rested against his chest, trying to get her breathing to even out.
"I don't want you to sleep in a different room," she managed.
"What if I sleep on the floor beside you?"
"No. I want you here beside me. Always. Just give me time," Dorcas replied.
:::
Cal was nervous around her and hesitant to touch her.
Despite reassuring him that she was alright, he kept apologizing.
Dorcas hoped that their discussion with Fabian and Gideon would shed light on their options concerning Tom. She wanted nothing more than for him to be out of her life, unable to threaten her or her family. She wanted closure.
She worried that she and her husband would never be easy around one another again until that happened.
Dorcas arranged the tea things on a silver tray that was probably worth more than the entire building where she'd grown up.
This whole townhouse was a ridiculous look on her. She could never pull off Lady Dorcas. It was absurd.
She thought that Cal's mother might claw her way out of the grave in order to wag a finger in Dorcas's face with a robust, "I told you so."
"I'll take that, ma'am," Frost, the housekeeper said from behind Dorcas.
Dorcas nearly dropped the entire tray.
"You startled me, Frost. No, I can manage," she gasped.
When she came into the drawing room, she sat the tea in front of Cal with a deep exhale.
"What's the matter?" he asked, sitting up and studying her.
"Mrs. Danvers keeps sneaking up on me! She's going to give me a heart attack!"
Cal laughed. "Mrs. Danvers! You're being dramatic!"
Dorcas smiled tightly. He was always good at disarming her. But today was the exception. She was too anxious about this meeting with the Prewetts. She felt that too much was riding on it.
She paced nervously, wringing her hands.
"Sit down, my love," Cal urged.
Dorcas huffed and smoothed her dress and perched on the edge of the sofa next to him. But she jumped to her feet in the next moment.
"I can't, Cal. What if I don't explain things right? What if I waited too long to say something? What if there's no way to prove anything happened?"
Cal stood and moved into her path. He placed his hands on her shoulders, the weight of them calming her. She watched as he realized his hands were on her again and he removed them quickly.
"Whatever happens, we'll deal with it together. We're partners, right?" Cal encouraged, placing his hands in his pockets instead.
"Right."
Dorcas turned away and resumed her pacing.
The door to the drawing room opened loudly, causing Dorcas to jump.
"Christ on a cracker!" she exclaimed, clutching at her chest.
She spun around to see Frost ushering Gideon and Fabian into the room.
"Counselor Prewett and Auror Prewett," Frost announced.
Cal welcomed the brothers and shook their hands as Dorcas stepped behind him, trying to steady her breathing.
"Dr. Meadowes, Healer Meadowes," Fabian greeted, taking the seat Cal offered.
"Hello, Dorcas," Gideon said warmly, taking her hand.
"How's Theresa?" Dorcas asked. She turned to Fabian and inquired about Gwen as well.
"She's fine." Gideon hesitated, grinning widely. "She's–well, I don't think she'll mind me saying when she's not here. But, we're going to have a baby."
Dorcas looked from one brother to the other.
"Oh! That's wonderful news!" She tried to sound happy. She was happy. But it was hard to hear that particular sort of news when she'd just lost a baby, and the ability to have more.
Cal's hand was on her back, rubbing the space between her shoulder blades. But it soon stopped. The pressure of his touch disappearing again.
"Congratulations to the proud papa! And the proud uncle!" Cal said, shaking Gideon's hand again, smiling and nodding to Fabian.
"Actually, there's more good news," Fabian chimed, standing. "I popped the question to Gwen and the crazy kid said yes."
"Heavens! I'm so happy for you two!" Dorcas said, throwing her arms around Fabian's neck and squeezing him.
"Congratulations!" Cal said again.
Dorcas pulled Gideon into a congratulatory hug as well. And then turned to the tea things laid out on the table.
She avoided Cal's eyes as she busied herself pouring a cup for their guests.
We don't have to do this now, if you don't want to, Cal's voice offered in her mind.
Dorcas shook her head slightly and handed a plate of biscuits around.
When everyone had a cup and saucer in hand, Dorcas finally sat beside Cal.
She watched helplessly as his hand came to rest on her knee only to retreat to his own lap in the next moment.
Dorcas didn't want him to be so careful around her. Each hesitant touch made her sad. It was like watching the slow death of his desire for her.
Why had she made such a fuss in bed this morning?
She felt tears coming to her eyes and began to panic. No one had uttered a syllable yet about Tom or the assault and she was already blubbering.
Cal offered her his napkin and placed his arm around her. But then he moved it to the back of the sofa.
"Is everything alright, Dorcas?" Gideon leaned forward, placing his tea on the table.
Dorcas ducked her head and dabbed at her eyes.
"I'm happy for you both, that's all."
"You had a legal matter you wanted to discuss?" Fabian prompted.
Cal shifted next to Dorcas and the question hung in the air. Dorcas didn't know how to begin.
"Dorcas was assaulted on January twentieth. It wasn't reported to the authorities. We wondered what our options are. If it is possible to press charges now? Is there even a case?"
Dorcas was grateful for Cal. He had begun the first and most difficult step in the process of seeking justice. She hoped it would get easier from here.
Fabian sat up straighter and looked at Dorcas and then back to Cal.
"What is the nature of the assault? What are the circumstances?"
Dorcas ducked her head again, pressing the napkin to her eyes. She felt Cal's hand slip from the sofa behind her to pull her into his chest.
"Do you want to go lie down, Dorcas? I can do this on my own if you want," Cal leaned in close to say.
Dorcas shook her head, trying to mop up her tears with the pitiful napkin. Cal reached into his pocket and gave her his handkerchief. Then he kissed her forehead and proceeded.
"Dorcas was raped by Tom Riddle, who was posing as me under a Polyjuice disguise."
"Where did this happen?" Fabian asked, slipping into a professional tone.
Dorcas wondered how many cases like this one he'd handled.
"In our home," Cal answered.
"How did he gain entry?"
"The door was unlocked," Dorcas said. "I was in the basement bringing up a load of laundry. Cal and I had a fight and–" she shuddered as another round of sobs wracked her, constricting her throat.
"I was staying here for a couple of weeks. Tom exploited the separation," supplied Cal.
"And how do you know it was Riddle? Did he say at any point that he was not Cal?"
Gideon remained silent until now. "It's important to remember, Dorcas."
Dorcas thought back to the moment she realized that she was with Tom instead of Cal. She had urged him to slow down, he was driving into her more forcefully that was comfortable. Dorcas had assumed this was due to all of the pent up emotions between her and her husband. Then he let down his Occlumency shield.
He said, "Come for me, Birdie!" No. He didn't say it. He thought it.
Cal gave her shoulder a sympathetic squeeze.
"I can hear thoughts," she said.
Gideon and Fabian looked at one another.
"Did he say anything out loud that could be used to identify him?" Gideon pushed.
"I can't remember," Dorcas replied, shaking her head, sobbing harder.
Fabian inhaled sharply and sat back in his chair. "Riddle was good at covering his tracks," he admitted.
"So nothing can be done? If he never incriminated himself, identified himself as Tom Riddle, he can't be touched?" Cal's voice rang sharply in Dorcas's ears.
Gideon was the one to respond. "I remember a case about seven or eight years back that was similar to what you're describing. It involved an assailant using Polyjuice Potion."
Cal shifted closer to Dorcas, pulling her tighter against him.
"What happened?" he prodded.
"A woman who had a restraining order against a man who was stalking her. He used her boyfriend's genetic material to Polyjuice a disguise. He raped her. She went to the authorities."
"And…? Did they catch him?" Cal asked hopefully.
Gideon shook his head. "The boyfriend was arrested. I think he's still serving his sentence in Azkaban."
Dorcas felt all hope drain out of her. Of course Tom wouldn't have concocted such a plan without first making sure that it was watertight.
She wrapped an arm around Cal, fingers clenching his shirt as if someone had threatened to take him away to Azkaban.
Cal's hand slipped to her neck, trying to calm her by stroking her hair. Dorcas buried her face in his chest and wept. She didn't want any harm to come to him. This was all her fault.
"So the authorities believe the boyfriend raped her instead?" Cal asked.
"Yes," Dorcas heard Gideon say. "And I think you will suffer the same fate if this goes to the DMLE."
Dorcas nearly gagged when she realized that Cal was weighing the options in his mind.
There was NO option. There was one way forward: say nothing and forget this ever happened.
She raised her head glaring at her husband. "No fucking way, Cal!" she said through clenched teeth.
"My love, it could be the only way we–" Cal, stroked her hair and tried to soothe her.
"I DON'T WANT TO HEAR IT, CAL! I SAID NO!" Dorcas screamed.
"We just have to look at the memory and find out for certain if Tom admitted to the Polyjuice," Cal was trying to explain.
Gideon cut in. "The case could be argued that it was you who assaulted Dorcas and claimed to be Tom."
"Why would I rape my wife?" Cal spat.
"Polyjuice is a terrible bit of magic. Very hard to prove unless the culprit was caught red handed," explained Fabian. "You could be supplying a memory to the authorities that appears to be you assaulting Dorcas."
Gideon nodded. "Think about it from a defense attorney's point of view. All you would need is a reasonable doubt. You had a fight with your wife. You moved out. You came over to work things out but it didn't go as planned. You got a little carried away. It's all the motive they'll need to make a case against you, Cal."
"Thank you both for your help. We have some things to discuss," Dorcas said, trying to muster any remaining reserves of manners that she could.
Gideon nodded and stood. Fabian followed him. "We'll see ourselves out."
Fabian paused once he was at the door and turned to Dorcas and Cal.
"We'll try to help you whatever you choose to do. But I promise you one thing: Tom Riddle will go down for something. He's been able to evade us so far. But he'll slip up. And we'll be there to catch him."
:::
Dorcas and Cal sat in silence.
Then he pushed off the couch and began to pace.
Dorcas concentrated on controlling her lungs as they spasmed with her sobs. She felt as if she was hyperventilating. The room began to spin and she couldn't pull any oxygen in.
Cal knelt before her and grabbed her shoulders.
"Breathe in," Cal urged, demonstrating by pulling air into his lungs and counting to three. "Then out."
Dorcas mimicked him and soon the room ceased its revolving.
"It's hopeless, Cal. We can't get to Tom. We just need to move on," she gasped.
"Remember, Dorcas. What did he say to you?" Cal pleaded.
"He didn't say anything. He just threatened me. I can't remember exactly."
Cal squeezed her shoulders and stared determinedly into her eyes. "I still think there's a chance."
"No, Cal."
Dorcas inhaled deeply, steeling herself for what she knew she had to do. She stood up, pulling Cal to his feet as well.
"Come with me. You're going to see for yourself that there is nothing we can do."
It was time to show him the memory. If he witnessed firsthand what had happened, then he would know what she knew.
Tom Riddle was untouchable.