Chapter 21
12 November, 1940 Second Year Girls' Dormitory, Ravenclaw Tower, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Dorcas was in a long and sterile corridor. The smell of smoke was unmistakable in her nostrils. She was nearing a fire. But instead of rushing away, it drew her closer. White robed healers and blue gowned nurses rushed past her. She didn't focus on what they were saying. They should have jostled her as they overtook her in the confined space, but she felt nothing.
The screams were everywhere.
Some came from the direction that Dorcas was now heading. Some were behind her. Some came from the other side of many solid oak doors to her right and left.
The door at the end of the corridor was open. Many people rushed in and out, to and fro, heaping piles of paper into a blaze that had been lit haphazardly in the middle of the room. An office, Dorcas realized.
When a healer hurriedly sidestepped a nurse with a large box of ledgers, he knocked several bottles from a shelf and into the fire. The flames multiplied.
Some healers and nurses rushed to the conflagration with wands raised. Lion tamers at the ready. But the flaming mane spread and the beast roared unchecked.
"We have to move the patients," a nurse said with alarm, slowly backing out of the office.
Others decided to give up the office as lost. In a panicked gaggle, the attendants left the blaze as it engulfed the space.
Dorcas hurried with them away from the flames. Nurses directed incantations at doors on either side of them as they retreated. They clattered and banged open. Children were ushered, prodded, and even dragged from their beds and down the halls.
One room near the opposite end was familiar to Dorcas. When she entered it, she recognized it as the washroom in her own Poplar flat.
She was motionless with confusion for an instant, until her uncle's unmoving body came into focus. Morty lay on the tile in a pool of his own blood. He'd hit his head on the bathtub as he fell. She cradled his head as he seized violently in her lap. She slipped in the blood as she tried to stand with him.
She called for help, but not one person careening past responded to her.
The halls quietened in the next moment, like a calm that preceded a storm. Then the inferno wooshed into the room. The violence of the flames and the heat overwhelmed Dorcas. Suffocated her. She couldn't move. It was like many arms pinning her limbs to her. She couldn't breath.
"Dorcas!" June Riley's voice rose above the crackling of the searing pyre. "Dorcas!"
She was sweating. Her hair was plastered to her forehead and she felt clammy in the cool of the November morning.
June, Charys, Zelda, and Glynnis were gathered around her bed. The curtains had been flung aside.
Charys and Glynnis were attempting to liberate Dorcas from her bedding. It was twisted in a complicated knot around her.
"It was just a dream," Zelda purred and brushed her damp hair from her brow.
Dorcas did not miss the cautious looks that her four roommates exchanged.
:::
"I want to go to Birmingham," Dorcas said, dropping her bag on the ground and dumping the contents of her arms onto the surface of the desk in her study corner in the library.
She knew she looked harried from all of the interrupted hours of sleep she'd been experiencing over the past three weeks. Brushing her hair out of her face, she sat and organized her homework, frantic to whittle the pile down.
"Hello to you, too," Tom replied, leaning back in his chair to study her. "Rough night?"
She tried not to notice that he surveyed her. She was keenly aware of the dark circles beneath her eyes and the way her hair hung in limp strands down her shoulders and her back. Unconsciously, she began to tame it into a plait over one shoulder.
"Try five consecutive rough nights," she said, pulling a Herbology chart toward her that she needed to complete before tomorrow's class.
Tom said nothing for a long time.
Dorcas tried to ignore the feeling of his eyes boring into the side of her head. She wanted to snap at him; to tell him that he wouldn't be able to read her thoughts even if he could drill into her brain. The school's enchantments wouldn't allow it.
Finally, he asked for the information he wanted to know. "Are you still having nightmares about that hospital?"
Dorcas still felt irritable and knew that if she spoke, something sarcastic would come out. She bit her lip and nodded, not taking her eyes off of the parchment in front of her.
Tom exhaled heavily. "I'll take you to Birmingham, Birdie. But it'll have to be at night. Burke is getting suspicious."
Dorcas nodded again. She felt such a relief that Tom had agreed that she closed her eyes momentarily and felt her shoulders sag. She hadn't realized that she was bracing for his refusal.
"But you have to do something for me," Tom added.
Dorcas's eyes snapped on to Tom as he suggested the quid pro quo. She felt the irritation that she'd thought had left her body bubble up in her once more. "What?" she asked in a flinty voice.
Tom's eyes went wide for a moment and then he smiled. He seemed to be enjoying this side of Dorcas. He held up his hands in mock surrender. "Nothing too taxing, I promise."
Dorcas raised an eyebrow, impatient for him to name his price for Birmingham. She dropped her quill and stared unblinking at her friend.
"Meet me at the one-eyed witch. Midnight. I'll explain then," Tom finally said.
"Tonight?" Dorcas had been looking forward to her warm featherbed in Ravenclaw Tower since almost the moment she'd left it this morning.
Tom nodded. "I have something to show you. Something I need your help with."
Dorcas weighed her desire for sleep with her need to exorcise the dreams of Wingate from her mind. "Okay, I'll meet you. But let's not stay out too late. I'm so tired."
:::
Walking along the passage toward Honeydukes, Dorcas couldn't recall how much farther the tunnel sloped down and then up again. She knew it led all the way under the lake. But it seemed so much longer now that she'd traversed it twice before.
The silence may have had a part to play in the interminably long expedition.
Dorcas didn't want to expend energy thinking of topics of conversation and Tom seemed comfortable not speaking. It was just as well, Dorcas thought. They would probably end up renewing their row about Tom's father if they had spoken.
At last, they came to the staircase that led up to the trap door in the basement of the candy store. Dorcas hung back and waited as Tom pushed on the wooden door. She cringed a little as the rusty hinges protested loudly. But after midnight, who would be in the storeroom to hear?
Tom offered her a hand up and she climbed into the room full of crates, crouching behind him to be sure the way was clear.
Dorcas was eager to learn what Tom had brought her here for. All along the tunnel as they walked in silence, she had tried not to think of the time last year when they'd come here. Their intense efforts at reading minds had rendered null results. But Tom had kissed her. Twice. And then he'd avoided her for a week.
She couldn't help but to tread cautiously the second time around.
Dorcas wondered if his mind had been taking the same journey into last year's memory.
Tom gingerly prized the door to the sales floor open. Dorcas made a cursory glance around the space, noting the same riotous display of colorful items for purchase. Tom snatched a packet of something from a shelf as they passed and shoved it into his pocket.
Dorcas tisked but did not reproach him for stealing.
Out on the high street a chilly breeze whipped her skirt about her knees and bid her wrap her coat tighter around her torso and neck. Some of her hair escaped the knot she'd swept it up into. She was destined to go about life as a disheveled mess, it seemed. Eager to get out of the wind, Dorcas didn't notice that Tom had stopped at the bookshop.
Dorcas stared at the signboard of the establishment. This was where she and Cal had discovered the book that now inspired her nightmares. She cursed her own curiosity once more.
Tom placed a hand on her shoulder to stop her. Dorcas looked around. What could he possibly want to show her at midnight in the middle of the high street?
"Can you hear him from here?" Tom pointed to the lone source of light coming from a window on the east end of the second floor of the bookstore.
Of course, Dorcas knew that when Tom asked if she could hear him, he was really asking if she could detect his thoughts with her mind. She stared at Tom, whose eyes were gleaming with pride and excitement.
Dorcas focused on the light emitting from the little window.
"Yes," Dorcas began. "He's-"
She was cut off as Tom placed a finger to her lips.
"Don't say it. Let me tell you," he commanded.
Dorcas stood rooted to the spot in the high street and waited for Tom to tell her what she could hear in the man's thoughts upstairs.
"He's wondering if he could gain enough from the sale of the shop to retire to Spain," Tom finally said.
Dorcas's eyes were wide. Her lips remained unmoved against the finger that pressed against them. She was amazed.
"Tom," she finally enthused, batting his hand out of her face. "You can do it!"
She threw her arms around his neck. Tom picked her up and swung her in one quick celebratory revolution in the street. They were giddy with triumph and laughed out loud.
The light above the door to the Three Broomsticks flicked on.
Tom placed Dorcas on her feet and yanked her hands away from his neck, jerking her by the wrist behind a barrel next to the pub in the alley.
Dorcas, crouching next to Tom, reached for the barkeeper's thoughts. He was frustrated by the lack of security around the high street and was certain that it was pesky students sneaking into his backroom and lifting firewhisky and butterbeer.
Tom laughed softly next to her. "It was me."
Dorcas clapped both hands to her mouth to stifle her laughter. She was incredibly proud of Tom of being so determined to accomplish this goal.
Tom nudged her and pointed to the alleyway that snaked behind the pub and out onto a side street.
They crept along, ducking when they came to a window.
Dorcas hadn't realized until she followed Tom through another door that they were in the house in which they'd once shared that misguided kiss the year before.
"Tom," Dorcas said, pulling back as Tom took her hand and led her in. "We should get back."
There was a glint of light from the window beside the reading corner of the sitting room. Someone was in the small garden beside the house. It was the barkeeper. Dorcas could hear him searching for intruders.
Tom pushed her toward the stairs and pinned her against the wall. Dorcas could see the wandlight moving on the rug as it glared through the window.
Dorcas closed her eyes, sure that the barkeeper would come into the house and discover them there.
How many detentions would she have to serve for not only being out of bed after curfew, but out of the school's grounds altogether?
Tom tugging on her hand caused Dorcas's eyes to blink open. The wandlight and the footsteps had disappeared. But Dorcas's heart beat furiously at the near miss of being caught.
She stumbled a little as she followed Tom up the stairs. She wanted to renew her proposal to head back for the tunnel under Honeydukes.
"Just wait a few minutes, Birdie," Tom cajoled. "Can't you hear him? We'll have to wait for him to go back to the Three Broomsticks in order to get to the passageway.
Dorcas opened and closed her mouth as she followed Tom to the room at the end of the hall. She had been sure that Tom couldn't read her thoughts, but his answer to her unspoken suggestion gave her cause to question that assumption.
She climbed onto the bed. Tom reclined beside her.
Dorcas looked across Tom toward the empty fireplace wishing they could light a fire and make their wait a little cozier. She knew they couldn't. The light could attract unwanted attention and they needed to make a quick getaway if they hoped to use the trapdoor in the candyshop to get back to the school.
"Could you hear my thoughts just then?" Dorcas asked.
Tom tucked his arm under Dorcas's shoulders and pulled her closer. It had become second nature to them to share physical space now. It should be awkward to be in the same bed that they'd shared an intimate moment in previously. A moment that went so awfully wrong.
But it wasn't.
"I've never been able to know what you're thinking," Tom said.
"Never?" Dorcas repeated.
"No," Tom confirmed. "You're predictable," he began to explain.
Dorcas must have looked affronted because he hurried on to clarify.
"What I mean to say is, I've become familiar with how you think. How you react. I don't need to be able to read your mind in order to know what you're thinking."
Dorcas was relieved to know that Tom could not flip through her thoughts as easily as reading a journal. She knew it was hypocritical to be able to read his thoughts and not want him to reciprocate. But, she reasoned, she did not breach his mind uninvited. She wasn't so sure something as mundane as an invitation would keep Tom from knowing what he wanted to know.
She was uncertain as to whether she believed his answer or not. She wanted to probe further.
"In Hogwarts, the warding makes it impossible to read thoughts," Dorcas explained. "But in Hogsmeade you don't think you could do it?"
Tom inhaled deeply. Dorcas felt the swelling of his chest as she rested against it. Tom slipped his left hand under her jacket and rested it on her waist.
"I haven't been able to before," he finally conceded.
"Try now."
Dorcas concentrated on relaxing her breathing. She pictured letting down walls around her thoughts and impressions and feelings. Selfishly, she didn't want Tom to be successful in gaining access to her mind. But she wanted to make absolutely sure that her assumption was correct. That what he could do was an approximation of her skill, but that her natural ability gave her an added defense against his advances on her mind.
"Birdie," Tom whispered.
She felt his fingertips lightly brush her windblown hair off of her forehead.
Dorcas was warm and comfortable and safe. She felt as if she could sleep eternally here like this.
"Birdie," Tom said, shaking her shoulder gently. "It's time we head back."
Dorcas's eyes fluttered and she opened them. For a moment she did not remember where she was.
They headed back to the school the way they'd come. The return trip to the school was just as silent. Dorcas wondered what Tom was thinking, but refused to violate his mental autonomy in order to satisfy her curiosity.
Her thoughts turned inward and she became filled with dread. Every step closer to the castle meant nearing the inevitability that sleep would bring her once more into that corridor where the flames would engulf her and Morty and no one would stop to offer them aid.
:::
18 November, 1940 Transfiguration Classroom, Second Floor, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Dorcas could barely keep her eyes open as she attempted to refocus her attention once more on Professor Dumbledore's words and on the notes she was taking.
Her efforts had taken on a frustrating pattern. Sitting in class, vowing to listen intently, taking thorough notes, dozing off with eyes glazed over, looking down to find a large gap where possibly vital information had been omitted. Refocus, repeat.
She exited the classroom under the curious gaze of Jonas.
"You look as if you're the walking dead, Dorcas," he said.
"How kind, Jonas," Dorcas returned irritably.
She knew her restless nights, her nightmares, her elusive hunt for sleep had been showing on her face. But she was annoyed that her friends still felt compelled to point it out.
"She hasn't been sleeping well," Charys supplied when Jonas's concern hadn't elicited a response from Dorcas.
"Well, I'm sure you'll want to go upstairs and get some rest. We don't have to meet up in the library tonight," Jonas offered immediately.
Dorcas narrowed her eyes at Jonas's thinly veiled attempt at dodging homework.
"Not a chance, Jonas. We have a practicum next week. We're transfiguring amphibians into amphorae. Yours always has green skin and croaks."
"I could help Jonas tonight and you can rest, Dorcas. I don't mind," Charys chimed in. She pushed her hair behind one ear and shot a furtive look at Jonas and then looked pointedly at Dorcas.
"Fine," she said.
She would love nothing more than to skip dinner and curl up in bed and stay there for the weekend. But she knew that her terrifying visions of the burning hospital and her bleeding and helpless uncle would plague her sleep.
Dorcas wondered about Charys's ability to rally Jonas to the vital task of studying. But could not muster the energy to argue.
She left Jonas looking sulky and Charys looking triumphant and ducked into the girl's lavatory to splash water on her face. She would need to find at least an hour more of energy in reserve somewhere to complete an essay that Professor Slughorn had assigned on the properties of the sopophorous bean.
When Dorcas entered the lavatory, she was relieved to find that it was empty. She was in serious doubt that her frayed nerves would be able to withstand one more comment about how ill she looked.
Bending over the sink, she let the cool water run through her fingers for a moment. Her shoulders sagged with weariness and she wondered how much longer she would be able to maintain this pace if she could not sleep through the night.
She wished that she were back in that bedroom in the deserted house in Hogsmeade with Tom. She guessed that was the last time she'd closed her eyes to blissfully uninterrupted sleep in the past week. She recalled that he'd been attempting to detect her thoughts and she'd tried to concentrate on opening them to him. But then she'd fallen asleep. Dead to the world for hours.
As her thoughts turned to Tom, she splashed her face and felt a jolt of alertness brought on by the water. She became impatient. He promised to take her to Wingate. She'd gone to Hogsmeade with him so that she could help him confirm his newfound abilities to read minds. He had yet to keep up his end of the bargain.
Dorcas was considering the odds of getting to Birmingham without help when she heard a soft sniffling in one of the stalls to her left.
"Is someone there?" Dorcas called, snatching a towel from the stack beside the sink and wiping her face.
"Hello?" she called when no answer came.
She crept closer to the stall where she'd heard the sniffling. She knocked.
No answer again.
Dorcas turned to go. Whoever was locked in the stall did not want to be disturbed.
"WHAT DO YOU WANT?" a sharp voice came from the stall as Dorcas was nearly to the exit.
Dorcas cursed her luck in her mind. She'd almost made it out of the toilets without having to lend a sympathetic ear. Then she rebuked herself for the uncharitable thought.
"I just wanted to check if you're alright," Dorcas said tentatively, turning slowly back toward the quiet sobbing.
She recognized the voice. The girl was a first year in Dorcas's house. She was often found crying melodramatically in the Ravenclaw common room, or moping in corridors between classes.
"GO AWAY!" the girl shouted.
Dorcas tried to remember her name. She had been shouting at another Ravenclaw first year at the breakfast table yesterday. Olive was the other girl's name. They were having words over some perceived slight.
Myrtle.
That was her name.
"Myrtle," Dorcas said, wishing for all of the world that she could just do as Myrtle asked. But she didn't. "It's Dorcas Clerey. Are you okay? Are you hurt?"
"No," the girl sobbed. "I miss home. This place is so strange."
Dorcas considered the point for a moment. She got the impression that Myrtle was Muggle born. Although Dorcas was half blood, she'd also been raised in a different environment. Being a transplant into the Wizarding world was a bit jarring. She had sympathy for Myrtle's situation.
Myrtle was having a hard time making friends. Dorcas had noticed that the new group of students who'd arrived here in September had immediately organized themselves into friendly groups and outsiders. Dorcas remembered that Rubeus Hagrid was also having trouble finding his footing in his first year at Hogwarts.
"I know what you mean," Dorcas said, leaning against the frame of a cubicle opposite Myrtle's. "I didn't know anyone when I first started last year. I come from a Muggle home as well."
"But you're friends with students from all of the houses. I've seen you all spending time together," she wailed.
Dorcas paused for a moment. It was true. Among the friends she'd made were her roommates, June, Charys, Glynnis, and Zelda; Anneliese and Beau from Hufflepuff; Cherry, Darren, and Cal from Gryffindor; and Jonas and Tom from Slytherin. She'd never stopped to realize how varied her circle was until it had been pointed out by this lonely girl.
"That's true," Dorcas didn't want to lie just to make her feel better. "But I came here knowing absolutely no one."
The sobbing stopped.
"Myrtle," Dorcas said, snatching the opportunity to cheer the girl before she lapsed back into pitiful wailing. "You have to give these things some time. You'll find your group. In the meantime, think of all of the wonderful things you're going to learn how to do with magic."
She heard the lock slide back from the cubicle door.
Myrtle emerged, sniffling. Her eyes were red rimmed and puffy. Her glasses were crooked on her nose and she had a miserable pout on her face.
"Do you really think I'll find friends?" Myrtle asked, hiccuping.
Dorcas nodded. "You found one! Come on, let's go down to dinner together."
Although Dorcas had planned to skip the evening meal, finish her homework and go to bed early, she decided that Myrtle needed cheering more than she needed sleep at the moment.
:::
Dorcas was glad to run into Cal after dinner. He might be just the person to help her with the bullying situation among the first year students.
"Clerey," he'd said. "Wait up."
He'd caught up with her on the stairs leading to Ravenclaw Tower. Although she wanted nothing more than to end her day with a warm bath and a Sleeping Draught, she turned and smiled when she heard him call her.
Dorcas stopped and waited for him.
"How are you?" he asked. He surveyed her face, but unlike others, he did not pass comment on her wan appearance.
"I'm okay," Dorcas said.
They matched pace companionably.
"I haven't seen you around much. What have you been up to?"
Sneaking off to Hogsmeade or to London. She couldn't answer that question fully or honestly.
"I've heard from the author of the Wingate book. I never thanked you for writing to the publisher to get her address," Dorcas replied instead.
Cal nodded. "Sure. So what did you find out?"
"Well," Dorcas looked around to confirm that they were alone on the staircase. "They experimented on the children there. Tortured them with curses in order to force some sort of magical response out of them."
Cal's face communicated his shock and horror. "Did you find out if the school was still operating?"
"No," Dorcas said. "There was a fire. It was in the book. But I don't know what became of all of the patients and healers."
"I hope it burned to the ground," Cal said.
"Me too," Dorcas agreed. She didn't voice her companion hope that she could somehow work out with Tom how to get there and see it for herself.
"Hey," Dorcas said, changing the subject. "I wanted to ask you something."
"Anything," Cal said at once.
"People listen to you because you're on the Quidditch team and you're friends with everyone," Dorcas began.
"Okay," Cal agreed hesitantly. She could tell he was confused about where she was leading the request.
"Well," Dorcas continued. "One of the first years in Gryffindor is being picked on and I wanted to know if you would sort of..I don't know. Look out for him?"
"Of course," Cal agreed immediately. She knew he would. "Who is it?"
"Rubeus Hagrid," she supplied. "I heard…" Here she chose her words carefully, not wanting to give away how she'd actually detected the plot to trick Rubeus in the forest a couple months back. "A few boys were trying to lead him into the forest to hurt him."
"You probably saved them a thrashing instead of Hagrid. He's twice the size of any student here." He nudged her and laughed. "Funny that little Dorcas Clerey is his protector."
She took umbrage at being pronounced little. But she conceded the point.
"He's feeling a bit outcast. A few of the new students are. The first years are not a kind lot." She thought of Myrtle being brought to tears on a daily basis. She realized that Myrtle was quick to sulk at the slightest provocation, but she had also witnessed cruel jabs being hurled by Olive Hornby and Audrey Clapp on more than one occasion.
"I'll look out for him, Clerey," Cal said.
"Thanks, Cal," Dorcas replied. She knew that if Rubeus was seen with Cal and the other Gryffindor Quidditch players, the little knot of bullies would be too intimidated to mess with him any longer.
They stepped aside to allow some students to pass on the fourth floor landing.
Dorcas felt someone behind her touch her elbow lightly. It was Tom.
"Birdie," Tom said.
She turned and so did Cal.
"Alright, Tom?" Cal asked amiably. Dorcas thought she saw something pass between the two as they made eye contact. Cal eyed Tom's hand on Dorcas's arm.
"Fine," he replied succinctly and then turned to Dorcas. "I need to speak with you if you've got a moment."
"Yeah, alright," Dorcas said.
She turned to Cal and smiled. "Listen, Cal. Thank you for your help. I really appreciate it."
"Don't mention it," Cal said, his smile faltering as he looked from Dorcas to Tom.
"Bye," Dorcas said and allowed herself to be led down the fourth floor corridor and away from Cal.
She could feel Cal studying her and Tom as they disappeared around the corner.
"What's wrong, Tom?" Dorcas asked. He seemed bothered. He was casting dark looks over his shoulder.
"What's he helping you with?" Tom asked, his voice low. It carried an edge which confused Dorcas. "Why are you so appreciative?"
Dorcas pulled her arm lightly from his grip. "I just asked him to help me with some students who are having a difficult time acclimating," she explained. She looked at him, surveying his features for a moment. His brow was furrowed and his eyes had narrowed as she answered him.
"Tom," she asked once more. "What's wrong?"
He blinked and seemed to shake the dark mood off. "I just wanted to tell you that Birmingham is on."
Dorcas was not expecting this. She grabbed his hand and squeezed it. "Really? When?"
Tom's gaze fell to her hand on his. "Tomorrow. But it has to be at night."
"I know," Dorcas repeated his earlier warning. "Burke is getting suspicious."
She felt such relief at the prospect of at last standing in front of the building that had been haunting her dreams. She hoped that being there and seeing it in ruins would take away its mysterious power over her once and for all.
"Where's my thank you?" Tom asked. "Don't you appreciate me too, Birdie?"
Dorcas almost laughed at him as he pretended to be jealous of Cal. She leaned close to him, standing on her toes to kiss his cheek. "Thank you, Tom. I appreciate your help!"
:::
19 November, 1940 Borgin and Burkes, Knockturn Alley, London
Dorcas hadn't liked this store in the light of day. By night it made her skin crawl. She told Tom so.
"It's all fake," he whispered, looking around. "Maudlin trash. Most of it isn't worth anything."
Dorcas clung to his arm and followed him to the shop's entrance. She could feel the eyes of the masks hanging on the walls follow her.
They came out onto the pavement of Knockturn Alley without any fuss from the shop owners. Dorcas would agree that using the Vanishing Cabinet at night when the shop was closed was a better idea than coming through in the daytime like they had previously.
"So now where do we go?" Dorcas asked, looking around at the shops. Most of them were closed for the evening. One establishment had lights shining brightly in the window. The Leaky Cauldron was noisy with customers. And it was in that direction that Tom pulled her.
The publican was busy with a full bar and did not look up as they entered. It wasn't difficult to slip through the taproom's throng of patrons and out onto the pavement of Charing Cross once again.
"We'd better walk a little way down the street before we call it," Tom said.
Dorcas still hadn't received an answer to her first question and now, frustratingly, she had more. "Call what?" she asked, exasperated.
They walked on for about two city blocks and then ducked down a side street.
Tom looked around quickly and then stuck out his wand.
Dorcas was alarmed when a hulking purple structure with glowing eyes appeared. It was careening straight at her, stopping mere inches from where she stood. It put her off balance and she trod backward into Tom.
He steadied her with a hand on her waist and answered over her shoulder. "The Knight Bus."
"You could have warned me," Dorcas shot back. She wasn't sure what the Knight Bus was, but it was clearly magical. The triple decker bus was painted a bright shade of purple and seemed to defy all laws of physics as it squeezed past cars and caused bus benches to leap out of its path.
Every moment with Tom was an adventure.
"Will it take us all the way to Birmingham?" Dorcas found it a little comical that there was a magical version of something so mundanely Muggle as a bus.
"Yep," Tom said, pulling her toward the bus's door as it was flung open.
A small man in thick glasses stepped out. He looked to be missing several teeth. The nametag on his purple conductor's uniform declared him to be Ernie.
"Where to?" Ernie said, his beady eyes blinked at Tom through his glasses, magnifying them.
"Birmingham, if you please," Tom said confidently.
He gestured to Dorcas to climb aboard the bus and he climbed up behind her.
"Five sickles," Ernie said.
Dorcas was glad she'd had the presence of mind to stuff her life's savings in Muggle and magical money into the pocket of her skirt before meeting Tom tonight. She handed over the money.
Tom looked affronted.
"You paid last time," Dorcas explained.
He didn't argue, following her to the back of the bus. The triple decker curiosity was outfitted with brass bedsteads lining the windows and a gleaming chandelier hanging in the center. All of the beds, at least on the first level, were empty.
Dorcas found two chairs, grateful that there was an option besides standing or laying on a bed. Standing meant that she would most assuredly spend the trip falling over. The bus took off with a BANG and shot several kilometers ahead. The beds looked like a surefire way to become seasick. They swayed and bucked precariously as the bus moved.
She watched in horror for the first minutes of the journey as lampposts, mailboxes, and even parked cars seemed to jump out of the bus's way. The pedestrians on the street appeared never to take the smallest notice of it as it swerved from the street and mounted the sidewalk periodically.
Dorcas, getting over the initial shock of the Knight Bus and its peculiar pattern of travel, looked at Tom. He was calm and collected. He could have been a travel savvy Muggle, lounging in the club car of a commuter train. He was unfazed by the objects that leapt aside when the bus thundered onto the sidewalk. He pulled a bag of crystalized pineapple from his coat pocket and popped some into his mouth. Dorcas remembered him nicking something from the shelves of Honeydukes.
She met Tom's eyes and smiled in thanks. She knew it was a tentative smile. She couldn't erase all of the unsease she felt at the prospect of seeing the hospital that held her hostage in her sleep.
"So what are you going to do when you get there?" Tom asked.
Dorcas had been thinking about this and she was not sure. "I don't know." She had no idea if seeing the ruined remains of the hospital would even make a difference. She suddenly realized how desperate this whole plan had been.
"It's okay," Tom said when he saw her face fall. "Sometimes, just being in the place can take the fear of it away."
Dorcas took some solace from Tom's words. Maybe placing her feet on the hospital's foundations could be the last thing she does concerning Wingate. Maybe it could be completely behind her then.
Her heart rate had barely returned to normal when Ernie announced that they were in the midlands. The bus must be traveling at a considerable pace to traverse dozens of miles instantly.
There was a jolt as the bus's momentum seemed to carry it's second and third stories over the front wheels. Dorcas held her breath as the back wheels came momentarily off of the ground. And then the Knight Bus came to a jarring halt.
"Birmingham," Ernie said.
Tom stood and straightened his jumper and buttoned his coat calmly.
Dorcas's heart was pounding out of her chest and her eyes were bulging. Tom laughed and took her by the elbow to guide her, wobbly legs and frantic pulse, from the bus.
The city was dark. Signs of the war were ever present.
Tom and Dorcas walked hand in hand down the sidewalk, staring at the darkened windows of houses and shops and factories. They were silent.
Being at school, even being in Diagon Alley or on the Knight Bus, you could almost forget that a deadly conflict raged all around them. They were lucky to always remain blissfully unaware, tucked away at Hogwarts, that others suffered sleepless nights wondering if they would be forced out of their beds to the sounds of planes and air raid sirens.
"Was it this bad in London?" Dorcas asked finally, after several blocks of silent wonderings. "This summer?"
Tom stared at his feet as he walked. "Yes," he said finally. "There was one really bad night. The wharf was attacked. A lot of fire. Two city blocks destroyed."
Dorcas felt a coldness creep down her spine. She knew that the orphanage that Tom lived at was somewhere between her own Poplar flat and the docks. He'd been closer to the bombings than even her own family.
"Were all of the children really scared?" Dorcas asked, breathless.
Tom shrugged casually. "Don't know. I wasn't there."
"You weren't?"
"No," Tom said.
Dorcas felt relieved that she didn't have to picture Tom among the other terrified orphans close to the sight of the attacks on the docks. She guessed he'd been on one of his many odysseys about greater London when it had happened.
It was eerily quiet in Britain's second largest city. There was hardly anyone about. No lamps lit, no traffic signals, barely any signs of life. That changed as they neared an enormous brick complex, busy with the sounds of production. Tom pointed across the street from the hulking factory. There was a gothic revival-looking gray stone structure with a caved in roof and a front door that hung by a single hinge standing in the factory's shadow.
Dorcas recognized the Wingate Institution from the pictures in Hattie's book. Her feet carried her across the street. She felt drawn to it the moment she recognized it.
She heard Tom's footsteps following her as she climbed the uneven steps to the front door. The single rusty hinge protested as she tried to pull the heavy door back. With Tom's help, she managed to make a space between the door and the jamb that was large enough for her to squeeze through. She turned and helped Tom with the protesting door.
There were definite signs of squatters living in this condemned building. To Dorcas's relief, they didn't happen upon any of the ersatz residents as they walked through a once grand lobby.
"Tell me what happened here," Tom said. She knew he was prompting her to give voice to the images that had been disturbing her.
She looked down and shuffled her feet in the decade old rubble and ash of the building's roof. She wondered where to start.
"Wealthy Wizarding families paid the healers here to make their non-magical children learn magic. They would take the children and torture them with magic. Harriet Finnigan described some of the techniques she'd witnessed when she was undercover working in the place. They would use the Imperius Curse to make the children hold their own heads under water, not allowing them to come up for air unless they could throw off the magic with a spell of their own. They would use the Cruciatus Curse to torture one child until another child could defend them by casting their own curse."
She looked at Tom, who was listening passively as he slowly walked the lobby's perimeter.
"Shall we go up or down?" Tom asked when she paused. He was balanced on the bottommost step of a large marble staircase.
Dorcas looked up. There was a gallery above that ran the length of the lobby and terminated in a block of rooms on either side, making up the second floor. Below the staircase was a smaller and more informal set of steps leading down.
"Up," Dorcas said, not wanting to take the chance of finding out if the basement was now someone's home.
She followed Tom up the stairs. Their footfalls echoed in the stone space. The factory's noise could be heard in the distance. Otherwise there was silence.
"What do you dream about?" Tom prompted.
"The hospital attracted protestors once the Ministry had expanded its Squib retraining program. Families were encouraged to send their non-magical children there for rehabilitation. The families didn't know that rehabilitation meant torture. Somehow that got out."
"Probably the reporter you visited. The one that wrote the book," Tom interjected.
"Maybe. One night, the protests got violent and the healers feared that the protestors would get in. They started burning records."
"Not suspicious at all," Tom said sarcastically.
"Well, I dream about the fire that they ignited by burning those records." Dorcas paused and ran her eyes over the blackened walls and the collapsed roof of the building. "Only, as the nurses and healers and patients are running away from the blaze, I find my uncle lying in one of the patient's rooms. But the room is my flat."
"Strange," Tom agreed.
"He's fallen in the washroom and hit his head on the bathtub. There's blood all around him. I can't stop his seizures."
She paused to explain to Tom. "My uncle had those things done to him. The curses damaged his brain. He has seizures a lot. The time I keep dreaming about, I was home alone with him and I couldn't get him to wake up." Her voice broke on a sob and she looked at her feet, embarrassed by her emotions.
Tom crossed the space of the gallery and put an arm around her shoulders, squeezing her comfortingly.
"That must have been scary. Dealing with that alone," Tom said, empathetically.
Dorcas nodded. "I was able to get him to the hospital. Cal was there visiting his brother. He stayed with me for a while."
Tom stiffened next to her. Dorcas could perceive a strain that fell between them at the mention of Cal. She wished in the next moment that she hadn't mentioned him, recalling the tensions between the two last night as they met on the stairs. In the silence that followed, there was only the pounding sounds from the factory across the street.
And then a humming noise could be heard off in the distance, growing louder. It was followed by the blare of an air raid siren.
Tom dropped his arm from Dorcas's shoulder and ran to a window that had no glass left in it. Dorcas followed. She could make out dark shapes coming from the south and east in the blackness. Below, men scattered like ants from a mound that had been kicked. They were fleeing the factory.
"Oh Christ!" Tom swore beside her.
She stared at him wide eyed, unsure of what to do. She followed his eyes to the factory. The sign above the main entrance read: BIRMINGHAM SMALL ARMS WORKS.
The air vanished from Dorcas's lungs as panic doused her veins with ice water.
"We have to get below ground," Tom said, his voice strained.
"But where?" Dorcas responded frantically as Tom pulled her by the hand back down the stairs. She couldn't think of where to go in this unfamiliar city. There was no Underground to shelter in like in London.
Realizing that they stood across the street from the probable target of the air strike, and that target likely contained enough explosives to level half of Birmingham, Dorcas's instinct said to run flat out in the opposite direction of the factory for as long as her legs could carry her.
She was confused when they reached the bottom of the staircase and Tom yanked her behind it and down the basement stairs.
"Tom," Dorcas said, her lungs heaving for breath. "We need to get as far away from here as we can."
"We'll never make it," he explained, shouting over the sirens and the plane engines. As if to punctuate his sentence, an explosion off in the distance rocked the ground with a colossal BOOM.
Tom pushed Dorcas's head down and covered her with his body. When the concussion of the bomb faded, he was up again and pulling her down the remainder of the stairs. To the left of the stairs, there was a small broom cupboard with a rusted steel door. Tom flung the door aside and pushed Dorcas in ahead of him. His wand was held between his teeth as he shut the door and locked it. He took his wand and pointed it at the door voicing an incantation that Dorcas couldn't hear over the air raid siren.
There was no light in the room.
"Lumos," Tom spoke and the end of his wand lit in a faint white glow.
"Birdie," Tom said. "Your wand. Help me!"
Dorcas realized that she'd been standing in the small cupboard dumbly. She reached into her coat pocket and felt a new wave of panic rise in her. "My wand's gone!"
"That's perfect," Tom shouted. If he was going to reproach her further, he thought better of it. He turned away from her and pointed the wand at the walls of the small space they were enclosed in.
Dorcas hoped that the fire over a decade ago hadn't weakened the building too much. They needed these walls to hold.
Dorcas sank to the ground in the corner and covered her ears with her hands in a vain attempt to drown out the firefight above them. She screwed her eyes shut and prayed. A moment later she felt Tom's arms around her and opened her eyes. She took her hands away from her ears and threw her arms around his neck. They clung to each other, both wondering what was happening above them. The siren and the roaring of the planes, the screaming of workers announced that the pilots were closing in on their target.
The small cupboard was jostled by explosion after explosion, but the walls shored up with Tom's spells held.
As the bombs' explosions grew nearer and nearer, Dorcas was braced for a massive concussion when they finally found the factory. She was certain they would.
Tom was attempting to soothe her, telling her that everything would be okay. He was trembling every bit as much as she was.
"Where did you go during the bombing last summer? The one at the wharf?" Dorcas asked the first thing that came into her mind to distract her thoughts and his from their present predicament.
"To you," Tom said.
"To me?" Dorcas was wide eyed with surprise. "I was in Yorkshire."
Tom laughed; a feat, considering they were moments from death. "I didn't know it then. I only wanted to make sure you were safe. I sat on the fire escape outside of your window when I realized you weren't there. Your mother and uncle were home, though. So I stayed to look out for them."
Dorcas didn't know what to say. She was moved by Tom's words. He'd thought of her and, when he knew she was safe, stayed to protect her family. She pulled him closer to her and pressed her lips against his. He responded, tightening his grip around her waist. His other hand was in her hair, his wand discarded on the ground beside them. The light flickered when the wand left his hand and went out. She curled her fingers through his hair as well. This action made him inhale sharply. Dorcas thrilled at his response to her touch. Her heart was beating frantically for an entirely different reason now. Knowing that they might not have much time left on earth made her throw caution to the wind.
His hand trailed from her shoulders, to her arms, and then to her waist. Her hands explored under his coat. Raking her fingers down his back caused Tom to hiss with pleasure and it made her smile to herself.
Dorcas pulled back as if to look at Tom's face. She couldn't see him, though he was only inches from her. There was no mistaking what passed between them. He desired her. She could feel what he was feeling. His face was obscured, but his mind was clearly visible to her. She felt his lips on her neck, on her collarbone. His hand swept her hair from her shoulder and she could feel his tongue tracing the hollow at her throat.
She did not know if they would make it out of this place alive. She regretted not making her feelings for Tom known sooner. Perhaps she had only just become aware of them herself. Perhaps she had always known.
"I love you, Tom," Dorcas said, pressing her palms to his cheeks. She could tell the words had stunned him.
His mind was blank with shock.
"No one's ever loved me," he said finally. His voice was thick with emotion.
"I do," Dorcas said, the conviction of her words were drowned by a tremendous explosion immediately overhead.
Dorcas thought that maybe the hospital had been hit, but more forceful explosions followed immediately announcing to them that the Luftwaffe had found the ammunition factory.
The explosion sent an ominous crack down the back wall of their little hiding place. They watched with horror as the crack expanded. Tom's hand on her arm tightened.
Another explosion sent the stones of the wall flying outward toward them. Dorcas pushed Tom to the ground and covered him in the same way that he'd covered her on the stairs. She felt a sharp pain in her ribs that knocked the air from her lungs. The small cupboard was suddenly bathed in moonlight as part of the floor above them came away and crashed at the opposite end of the room.
The following explosion sent more debris flying and water began to gush through the wall and into the cupboard where they lay. At the same moment, Tom cried out in pain. He was pinned beneath Dorcas. She clamored off of him, mistakenly thinking that she'd hurt him.
"My leg," Tom replied to Dorcas's unasked question as she stared imploringly at him.
Dorcas spun around on her knees in the puddling water to find out the extent of Tom's injury. She gasped as the dire circumstances of their plight became clear to her. The latest explosion had obliterated the stone wall at the corner of the closet and severed a water main. Water was pouring from a fractured pipe into the room. The bottom third of the stone wall had collapsed in one solid chunk on Tom's right ankle.
Dorcas stood and turned about the room in panic. She plunged her hand into her pocket four times before remembering that she'd lost her wand somewhere between the second floor and the basement. She sloshed through the water and the debris at her feet and attempted to wrench the door open.
"Birdie," Tom shouted. "What are you doing?"
Dorcas could see that he was frantically searching in the half a meter or so of standing water around him where he was pinned.
"I need to get my wand," Dorcas explained.
"Don't go out there," Tom yelled. "You'll be killed."
As if to make Tom's point for him another loud BOOM announced another bomb close by. Something banged loudly into the rusted steel door, denting it from the outside. Dorcas backed away from the door, realizing that if she'd opened it, whatever had fallen would have landed on her.
"Birdie," Tom panted through the pain in his leg and the bracing cold of the water that was filling the room. "Birdie, you have to help me find my wand. It's somewhere over here." He cast about with his left hand in the grayish water.
Dorcas knelt beside Tom and started feeling the ground around them. There were jagged stones and other debris, but nothing that felt slender enough to be a wand. The water could have taken it further, she supposed.
Tom sat up, probably realizing the wand could be anywhere in the room now. Dorcas was on her hands and knees, crawling the length of the room trying to find Tom's wand. The water was past her elbows. She looked at Tom and saw that the water came up to his chest. The room was filling up.
Over the ringing in her ears, Dorcas heard more whooshing of planes and returned fire. There was a dogfight going on in the airspace above them. Her mind flickered momentarily to Cherry and Jonas. They would be thrilled to be witnessing the skirmish above.
"Biride," Tom called.
Dorcas rushed over to him. "I can't find your wand, Tom," she said desperately.
"Never mind," he said, gasping. His face was pale and his eyes were wide with fear. "Try to see if you can help me shift this."
He was pushing on the large chunk of the wall that had fallen on him. Dorcas splashed over to him and began to push as well. They couldn't move it even a fraction to one side or the other.
The level of the water now reached Tom's shoulders. Dorcas knew that his head would be under in the next several minutes if she didn't act.
She didn't have her wand.
She couldn't find Tom's wand.
She could try to find a way for the water to escape the small confined space rather than continue to gush in and drown Tom.
Dorcas spun in the direction of the door. She waded over to it. It was becoming more difficult as the water was at her hips. Her sodden wool coat was making her movements more sluggish. She wrestled her arms out of it and threw it into the corner where it floated for a moment before sinking.
"Birdie, no!" Tom shouted. "Don't leave me in here!" She could hear the edge of panic in his voice. With the chunk of stone pinning his leg to the ground, he couldn't stretch himself much more than the height of her waist. The water was nearing his collar bone.
"I won't leave you, Tom. I promise." Dorcas began to push on the door. "I have to let the water out."
She could feel the ligaments in her knees and ankles straining as she pushed. Whatever had fallen on the other side of the door had wedged itself in such a way as to block the door from swinging open.
Dorcas turned back to Tom. He closed his eyes in disappointment.
She would not let him drown. She refused to lose him. She wouldn't even acknowledge what losing him would be like. It was not a possibility.
"Hold on, Tom," Dorcas said. The only option remaining was to find his wand. They were not getting out of here without magic.
She held her breath and plunged under the cold murkiness. There was no light in the basement, yet she opened her eyes and blinked. Feeling around with her fingertips, she retraced where she and Tom had come into the cupboard. He was standing by the door, he'd put up enchantments around the room as she huddled useless in the corner. He'd crossed the room to sit beside her. She'd kissed him. That must be when he discarded his wand. She cursed. Why had she distracted him? Why hadn't he put the wand in his coat pocket?
She came up for a breath. The water was at Tom's chin. In alarm, she waded over to him. She tried to project to him a feeling of calm as she had so many times with her uncle when he was in distress. Dorcas's own mind was in disorder with panic and so she could not manage to hold on to the feeling long enough to impress it upon Tom.
"Don't worry, Tom. I'm going to get you out."
She felt his hand find her leg and wrap around it. He hugged her to him like a life preserver.
"Don't leave me," he repeated, gasping as the water inched upward toward his mouth. Dorcas knew that time was limited. "Birdie, I l-," his words were cut off as water kept rushing into his mouth. He coughed and squeezed her leg harder.
"Tom, I've got to find your wand. It's our only way out," Dorcas explained, trying to pry his arm from around her leg to free her.
She lost her footing and slipped backward, plunging under the water. Throwing her hand out behind her to brace her fall, she felt something unlike the rest of the debris scattered about the room. It wasn't the rough edge of rock. It was smooth and thin and long. It moved beyond her grip and she returned to the surface to gulp another lungful of air. When she broke the surface once more, she couldn't see Tom in the faint moonlight anymore. His head was completely submerged.
She inhaled sharply and renewed her search. Gripping a rock at first, she heaved it away from her in frustration. Her fingertips combed through the area where she'd felt the wand moments before. She couldn't think of anything beyond the feel of the smooth wood in her hand. She had to find it or perish in the attempt.
Her fingers closed around something this time that had the right shape and texture. She burst through the water's surface and saw that Tom's wand was in her grasp. Her ribs protested with a sharp pain.
Casting around in her mind for the right spell, she splashed over to Tom. His hands were reaching out for her again, but less insistent. She gripped his hand to reassure him that she was still there and pointed his wand at the spot where she knew a mass of rock pinned his ankle to the ground under the water.
Expulso would explode the chunk of rock, but may also injure Tom further. Her hand shook as she tried to think of a better alternative. With a jolt, Flipendo came to her.
"Flipendo," she cried. The water parted momentarily, but the rock didn't budge. Tom's hand slipped out of hers as he lost consciousness.
Dorcas cursed in desperation.
She turned to the door and shouted the same incantation. The steel of the door flew away from her and crashed against the basement stairs. Water rushed out of the opening that Dorcas had just created, taking her feet out from under her.
There was no time to waste. She scrambled to her knees and crawled to Tom. His head lolled to one side and his eyes were closed.
"Rennervate!" Dorcas cried. A red flash emitted from Tom's wand, but he didn't wake up.
Dorcas called his name and shook him. He lay inert on the ground. There was no rise and fall to his chest, no signs that he was breathing.
"Tom!" Dorcas called and slammed a fist down on his chest. He did not respond. "Don't leave me!" she repeated his frightened request back to him. Exhausted and unsure of what to do next, Dorcas put her forehead on his breastbone and sobbed.
Suddenly, she felt his chest heave and he coughed a long rattling cough, gasping as he choked water from his lungs.
"TOM!" Dorcas shouted and leapt onto him, kissing every inch of his face.
"Ow, Birdie," Tom gasped between breaths. "My leg."
"Right," Dorcas remembered. She climbed carefully off of him and helped him to sit up. She pointed his wand at the offending stone that had trapped him. "Flipendo!" she commanded, and this time the stone obeyed and was tossed to one side.
Dorcas inched closer to Tom's ankle. She lifted up the leg of his trousers and gingerly rolled down his sock. His ankle bent at an unnatural angle. "Tom, I'm going to try to remove your shoe. I'm sorry, but I think it's going to hurt."
She looked back to Tom for permission. He closed his eyes and nodded, laying back again. The exhaustion on his face mirrored her own.
Raising Tom's wand again she pointed it at Tom's ankle and felt him stiffen. "Eliminata," she said with confidence. Tom relaxed with a sigh as the numbing spell worked its way from his skin and muscle into his bones.
Dorcas, not daring to set the wand aside again, placed it between her teeth as she untied Tom's shoe and slipped it off. She worked his sock off as well and surveyed his damaged ankle.
She was grateful for the months she'd spent after Morty ended up in the hospital pouring over every medical text that Hogwarts had available in its library. She knew how to heal a fracture. The tricky part with Tom's leg was going to be detecting and healing all of the fractures. She was unsure how much damage the stone had done.
Taking the wand in hand once more she said, "Brackium Emendo." Tom's ankle no longer bent at an odd angle.
Tom was quiet through the ordeal. He lay completely still. The only movement was of his chest heaving up and down as his lungs filled with and then released air. The sight of him breathing was a balm to Dorcas's frayed nerves.
"Tom," Dorcas said. "Wiggle your toes for me."
She watched him move his toes. The movement seemed normal.
"Can you move your foot in an arc?"
He completed the action and Dorcas released the breath she'd been holding.
"I'm going to lift the numbing spell now. Tell me if you feel any pain."
Dorcas pointed the wand at Tom's foot once more. "Finite Eliminata."
She looked at Tom. "Any pain?"
Tom moved his foot in a wide range of motions. "None."
"Do you think you can stand?"
Dorcas lifted herself up, using the wall to brace her. She came to stand next to Tom and took his hand to help him.
She watched as he carefully placed weight on the foot. "I think you've found your calling, Birdie."
She smiled at the praise.
"Here," she said, stooping to pick up his sock and his shoe. As he put them back on his now healed foot, she found her coat discarded in the corner and folded it over her arm.
"Thank you, Birdie," Tom said, standing and placing a hand against her back. "You saved my life."
"Yes, but I also endangered it in the first place," Dorcas said darkly, handing Tom his wand back. "It was foolish to want to come here."
"No, it wasn't. And besides, it's war. This could happen anywhere at any time."
That statement did not bring Dorcas any comfort.
They stepped carefully over the collapsed door that was slick with water and debris. On the stairs, Tom used a Summoning Charm to bring Dorcas's wand from the second floor. She must have dropped it when they'd first heard the air raid sirens.
She placed it securely in the pocket of her coat again as they climbed back to the first floor of the hospital. As it had been destroyed by fire over a decade ago, it was hard to tell what new damage it had sustained.
The ammunition factory across the street was another story altogether. The flames were blinding and the heat intense. Dorcas could not see exactly how much of the city was ablaze. There was chaos on the street.
As they stumbled out of Wingate and to the pavement below, Dorcas felt Tom take her hand and turn her away from the factory fire and toward a scene about a half a block down where a Messerschmitt had crash landed in the middle of the street and been engulfed in flames. The sight was surreal.
"You kids shouldn't be out here," a gruff voice admonished them.
"We don't have anywhere else to go," Tom said simply, not taking his eyes from the burning plane.
Dorcas turned away from the Messerschmitt and looked at the man. He was sooty, but she could just make out his coveralls with the BSAW logo on it. "You were in the factory?" Dorcas asked, stunned.
"Aye," the man said. "You shouldn't have to see all of this death and destruction. Come with me. My wife'll have somethin' fer ya to eat and somethin' clean for you to wear."
The man turned to go and Dorcas followed, pulling Tom in her wake. Tom continued to stare over his shoulder at the burning factory and the plane until they turned a corner.
"The name's Peter," the man said. "I was workin' the night shift there when we heard the sirens. Mos' of us got out. Some poor bastards didn't."
"I'm Dorcas and this is Tom," Dorcas said. She felt Tom squeeze her hand in warning. She shot him a reproachful look. If they couldn't trust a fellow Briton in a time like this, then who could they trust and when?
"Pleased ter meet ya."
:::
20 November, 1940 Peter's flat, somewhere in Birmingham
Peter's wife cooed over them as if they were a pair of lost kittens.
"You poor dears," she said, laying sandwiches in front of them and glasses of milk. "It's a miracle that you survived. You say you were in the abandoned building across from the factory? What a miracle, indeed!"
Dorcas didn't know how she managed to say as much as she did without pausing to take a breath.
"I'll lay out something for you to wear. You'll sleep in our sons' room. They're off at university. Twins, they are." She smiled and pointed to a pair of photographs on top of the radio. "Reggie and Gerry."
Peter's wife had supplied a lot of information as soon as they entered the modest flat. But she'd never supplied her own name. Peter referred to her only as "my wife."
Peter had taken off back toward the factory after depositing Dorcas and Tom into the care of his wife.
Tom said not a word, leaving the gracious guest role to be filled by Dorcas. He ate in silence as Dorcas did all of the smiling and thanking and listening to Peter's wife.
"It was an absolute miracle, indeed, I say. And Peter, lucky to make it out of the factory when he did. I can't imagine how he managed. Just lucky!"
Dorcas hadn't touched her food. She didn't think she could manage to swallow anything if she tried. She'd had a lump in her throat from the moment the water started to gush into the tiny closet where they were trapped. She screwed her eyes shut without realizing she'd done it to keep the memories of Tom's unmoving body from her mind.
She felt Tom's hand on her arm.
"Oh, you poor dear!" Peter's wife cooed. "You must be utterly done in!"
Dorcas's eyes opened and she saw Peter's wife taking her uneaten sandwich away.
"I'll run you a bath, dearie," Peter's wife said.
Dorcas followed her into the washroom. The steam from the tub was inviting. Once she was alone, she stripped off her sodden things and dipped a toe in. The water was comforting and soothed her tight muscles. It stung when she leaned back and the water found a gash that lacerated her ribcage on her back just below her shoulder blade.
She slipped into a light pink flannel nightgown that must belong to Peter's wife. It was overly large on her and had to be rolled up at the sleeves.
Peter's wife led her to Reggie and Gerry's room, where Tom was already changed into a pair of too big striped pajamas. He was sitting on one twin sized bed waiting for her.
She found her coat laid out on the other bed.
"I took it from the back of the chair and brought it in here. It's got your money and your wand in it. I don't think you should leave those things lying around in a Muggle home."
She nodded. She wouldn't argue with Tom tonight. Besides, if she'd kept better track of her wand, Tom wouldn't have nearly drowned.
"Will you do something for me?" Dorcas asked, unbuttoning the buttons on her nightgown.
Tom sat up straighter and looked a little uncomfortable. "What?"
She turned and slipped the nightgown from her shoulders, revealing the deep cut on her back. "Would you heal this? I don't have a very good angle."
"Ouch," Tom said. "Of course I will."
She heard him cross the small space between the beds, and felt his fingertips tracing the raw red area around the wound.
"When did you get this?" he asked.
She shrugged. "Maybe sometime around the first two explosions."
"Vulnera Sanentur," Tom said in a low voice.
Dorcas could immediately feel the angry pulsating feeling of the open wound diminish. She slipped her arms back through the sleeves of the nightgown and buttoned it once again.
"Thank you," Dorcas said as Tom retreated back to his side of the room. He nodded.
She pulled the covers down and climbed in bed. She was bone weary from the ordeal of that night. It wasn't just a physical exhaustion she felt, it was also emotional. She felt as if she'd been on the verge of tears for hours now. If she dreamed about the hospital tonight, it would be a miracle if all she saw was the flames and the patients and her uncle's body. The nightmare she'd just lived was possibly worse.
"Goodnight," Tom said from across the room.
Dorcas swallowed and tried to make her voice sound light and unbothered. "Goodnight, Tom."
Tom turned the light out.
She could hold back her tears no longer and felt them running down her cheeks and into her pillow. She knew that her sniffling was audible, she tried to stifle it by turning onto her side and facing the wall.
Dorcas heard the creek of Tom's mattress on the other side of the room. Then her covers were lifted back and she felt him slip into the bed behind her. He tucked one arm under her head and the other he wrapped around her, his palm resting over her heart.
"Shh," he whispered close to her ear. "Don't cry." He kissed her neck lightly. "I'm here, little Birdie."
A/N: Reviews are welcome and appreciated.
