Chapter 24
15 December, 1940 Hospital Wing, Hogwarts Schools of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Dorcas felt the concussion of a bomb rattling her bones. The explosions came from every direction. Rubble blocked her path and she hurtled over large chunks of stone from buildings she'd passed in the neighborhood she lived in all her life.
Her one thought was to get to her family. Her mother and her uncle had to be warned of the threat. The enemy was practically at her doorstep and she feared she would not make it in time to save them.
The terror that pulsed through Dorcas fortified her and spurred her on to faster speeds. She jostled past her bloodied and wounded neighbors, pushing them out of her way. She didn't see their faces, she was only impatient for them to get out of her path.
She rounded the corner and saw the building that she lived in with her mother and her uncle. It was partially engulfed in flames.
"No!" Dorcas said, feeling all of the air leaving her lungs at the sight of the burning building. The enemy had come. She was too late.
She knew they were dead. But she wouldn't believe it until she saw with her own eyes.
Dorcas's feet carried her forward as if pushed by a tide. At the same moment, she felt herself leaning away from the force that drew her forward. She did not want to see.
It couldn't be the truth if she refused to acknowledge it.
She pushed the door to her second floor flat open. She'd passed an inferno on the stairs, somehow walking through it without even feeling the heat of the flames as they licked her. She thought hell was supposed to be hot, that it was supposed to be a torment. She felt nothing.
She saw her mother first. Her was face was turned to the door as if she expected Dorcas. Her eyes were open but unfocused. Blood trickled from her nose and pooled around her head.
Someone was crouching over Morty, blocking him from view. It was a figure in a dark cloak.
The toe of Dorcas's shoe crunched on some broken china, announcing her presence to the cloaked figure. He turned to face her.
Tom stood up when he saw Dorcas. He addressed her as if they were continuing a conversation they'd started previously.
"The trick is to draw out the final breath. They can't go too quickly or it's more difficult to collect," Tom was explaining to her in an offhand sort of tone.
He demonstrated by carefully capping a glass phial with a rubber stopper. A white misty substance swirled within.
Dorcas brushed Tom's statement off, sidestepping him without a word.
"Mama?" she tentatively called her mother, her voice breaking as she knelt beside her.
Dorcas placed her hand on her mother's cheek. She was already cold to the touch.
She looked at the body huddled beside her mother. Morty was slightly in front of her, appearing to have stepped in between his sister and the assault. The assault. Dorcas did not know what it had been. They did not seem to have died from an explosion. Apart from some broken and scattered crockery, and the fire in the stairway, there was no evidence of the bombing.
"They're gone," Tom said gently, but firmly.
Dorcas looked up at him in silent question.
He smiled at her with understanding and sympathy. The expression did not reach his eyes.
His eyes. They were lighter now, a sable color instead of the deep brown that had always drawn Dorcas in. The lighter hue was more menacing somehow.
"You and I are both orphans now. We have no one but each other."
He said this in a manner that suggested inevitability. She should have always known that this was the way events would unfold.
He reached for her hand and drew her to her feet. She stood in front of him, struggling to comprehend what she was seeing, what he was telling her.
Tom's eyes flicked to the hairs that had fallen into her face as she ran the length of Poplar in a blitz to get to her family. In vain.
He extended a hand gently, deliberately as if trying to calm a spooked animal and brushed the hair back from her face. His fingertips were warm against her cold, numb skin.
Dorcas did not want to want his touch, but she did. Her eyes closed and she leaned into him, realizing that she couldn't run far enough from him and at the same time, could not be near enough to him to satisfy the pull that she felt deep inside of her when she thought of him.
The warmth of his fingers as he brushed the hair back from her face jolted something in her and her eyes flew open.
Dorcas sat up and looked around. The small flat she shared with her mother and uncle disappeared. Her family was no longer dead on the ground before her. Tom was not there.
"Clerey, it's ok!" Cal's voice was incongruous to the scene she'd just experienced.
The tableau was already fading like a fog, burned off as the sun came out from behind a cloud.
Dorcas blinked trying to recall the images that sent her heart into frantic spasms, but she could not grasp at the tiny wisps of memory as they receded from her mind.
Dorcas eyed Cal's hand suspiciously as it retreated from her and into his lap.
He had been the one she felt touching her.
Dorcas continued to blink as her surroundings came into better focus.
"You're in the hospital wing. You fell asleep," Cal was explaining as Dorcas looked around in confusion.
As her eyes fell on Cal, she saw that what he said was true. He lay propped on three pillows, his head still wrapped in bandages. Her chair was pulled close to his bed and she'd likely fallen asleep with her head on the bed beside him.
"The hospital wing?" Dorcas asked, her lungs heaving as if she'd just run several city blocks.
"Yeah," Cal hurried on to explain. "You must have fallen asleep here. When I woke up, you were laying there." He indicated a slight indentation on the edge of the bed next to him.
"I'm sorry," he apologized. "I shouldn't have woken you. I scared you."
Dorcas remembered a scene similar to what Cal had described when she'd been foolish enough to touch Tom when he'd fallen asleep next to her. He'd woken with a start and grabbed her. Her fingers smarted at the memory of the way he'd taken her hand and squeezed it furiously. Was she picking up his habits, his mannerisms?
"You don't have anything to be sorry about," Dorcas said on a sigh, coming down from a jarring scene in her mind that she wished she could remember. "I'm just jumpy lately."
"What were you dreaming about?" Cal asked.
Dorcas shook her head and looked at her hands in her lap. "I don't know. It vanished."
"You called for your mum," Cal pointed out.
Dorcas was interested in the tidbit Cal offered about her mystery dream. "Really?" she asked. "What else did I say?"
Cal shrugged. "That was it."
Dorcas tucked the hair that had fallen in her eyes behind her ear self-consciously and studied Cal. His color was better than the last time she'd visited him. He seemed much more alert too.
"You must miss her," he observed.
Dorcas nodded. "I don't think I'll see her for Christmas," she admitted sadly.
"Are you staying with your uncle and his family?"
"Yes." Dorcas was eager to turn the conversation from the family she would miss. "What are your Christmas plans?"
"We usually spend Christmas in town. But mother and father have boarded up the London house until things are safe there again."
Dorcas's face must have fallen, because the look on Cal's face was stricken. "Not that London is not safe, I mean, I'm sure your mother and uncle will be okay."
"It's alright, Cal," Dorcas said, placing her hand on the part of him that was closest, his knee, to reassure him that she'd not taken his comment wrongly.
"No, it's not," he chastised himself. "I always say the wrong thing. I'm an ass. Forgive me."
Dorcas actually laughed at Cal as he pronounced himself an ass. He was the furthest thing from it. "Very well. You're forgiven."
His gaze dropped to her hand as it rested on his leg and there was a pause in the conversation.
Dorcas slipped her hand back into her lap and cleared her throat uncomfortably.
"When do you suppose you'll be released?" Dorcas asked to cover the awkward laconism between them.
"Tomorrow, I hope," Cal said, reaching up to tug on the bandage that covered his left ear. "I'm going stir crazy in here."
Dorcas nodded. "I remember the feeling."
:::
22 December, 1940 Trophy Room, Third Floor, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
Dorcas pushed a red wrapped package across the table to Cherry. She exchanged an apprehensive look with Anneliese. They both remembered what had become of their combined Christmas gift to Cherry last year. Dorcas wondered if the Kodak Brownie had ever been reassembled or if it lay in bits and pieces in the bottom of Cherry's school trunk to this day.
Cherry tore into the paper of the little package and uncovered a delicate little charm bracelet with two charms dangling from it. One charm was a little flower; silver petals with a yellow enamel center. The other was a tiny bird in a gray marbled stone.
"They're us, Cherry! I got to pick out one and Dory got to pick out one," Anneliese exclaimed excitedly.
"Don't you like it, Cher?" Dorcas asked apprehensively.
"Well, yes. It's sweet," she said, pinning the bracelet around her wrist. "But I was hoping for another Muggle machine."
Anneliese crossed her arms sternly over her chest as Dorcas raised an eyebrow in an "I told you so" gesture.
"No way!" Anneliese said, scowling. "You murdered that dear little camera we bought you last year. No more inventions for you!"
Dorcas watched the exchange while winding her plait up at the nape of her neck with the beautiful tortoise shell comb Anneliese and Cherry had given her.
"I'm working on it!" Cherry defended herself. "I'm going to enchant it to take moving pictures."
"You use a potion for that," Dorcas pointed out.
It was Anneliese's turn to fix the I-told-you-so eyebrow on Cherry. "So you ruined our lovely gift for no reason."
Cherry shrugged. She would not apologize for how she used her gift. "I still want to know how it works. I'll figure out how to put it back together."
Beau and Darren joined them after a few minutes.
Dorcas watched as Cherry opened the gift that Darren held out to her. It was a small box wrapped in gold.
Anneliese elbowed Dorcas and looked at her knowingly. But the secret Anneliese was trying to communicate was lost on her.
Dorcas shook her head, prompting Anneliese to huff and whisper in her ear, "Jewelry. It's getting serious."
Dorcas looked at the box curiously. Anneliese's instincts were right. Cherry produced a stunning pair of earrings, pearls in a gold setting.
"They're not new," Darren explained. "They were my grandmother's."
"Oh, Darren!" Cherry effused, "They're beautiful."
She showed them to Dorcas, who smiled and Anneliese, whose eyes bulged.
Cherry threw her arms around Darren and planted a kiss on his lips that made everyone else at the table uncomfortable. Beau and Anneliese laughed at the awkward display of affection while Dorcas busied herself cleaning up the wrapping from their gift exchange.
"Birdie," Dorcas heard Tom call her mentally and she looked around.
Anneliese saw him first and waved him over.
"Why does she insist on integrating me into your group?" Tom thought in annoyance as he smiled and crossed the crowded room of groups and couples, all sharing gifts and making merry. He looked at odds with the scene.
Dorcas simply responded with a shrug and a reassuring smile.
"Hi Tom," Anneliese said, her voice so welcoming, Helga Hufflepuff would have been proud.
"Hello," he returned, looking around at the group that was assembled, his gaze lingering over the intertwined Cherry and Darren. His brow furrowed.
Dorcas leaned over to kiss Tom's cheek and heard a cooing sound that she knew Anneliese had not uttered out loud.
"Staying on at school for the break, Tom?" Beau asked genially.
Tom nodded, taking Dorcas's hand under the table.
"It's safer here than London," Anneliese pointed out.
Just seven days ago the East End had been the target of another devastating strike by the Luftwaffe.
"Yes," Tom replied. "Apparently."
Turning to Dorcas he said, "May I speak with you?"
Darren and Cherry had disentangled themselves and became attentive listeners to one side of Dorcas and Tom as Anneliese and Beau sat looking at them curiously on their other.
"Privately."
Dorcas smiled at each of her friends apologetically and rose from the table. "I'll see you all on the train tomorrow."
Tom pulled her chair back for her and rose after her. "Happy Christmas," he offered quickly to the group.
Dorcas felt Tom's hand on the small of her back guiding her toward the door. She had the suspicion that he was wound up with anticipation for something and that he eagerly wanted to extricate her from the group.
"Tom, is everything okay?" Dorcas asked.
His hand on her back propelled her forward insistently. "I just want time with you before you leave."
"Me too," Dorcas replied. "I have a gift for you. But I stashed it in the secret room. Shall we go there?"
Dorcas had been limiting her time alone with Tom since earlier that month when they had a disagreement about how much physicality was acceptable in their fledgling relationship. Tom had not addressed the infrequency of her visits. Instead, he seemed pleasantly surprised on those occasions when she decided to share his little cave in the secret room. They had not shared so much as a brief peck on the lips since Dorcas had kiboshed their earlier intimacy.
In silent answer to her question, Tom removed the hand from her back and wound his fingers through hers. Dorcas liked this gesture better. His hand on her back, propelling her forward made her feel like a child that needed guiding. Taking her hand made her feel more like an equal.
Once inside the secret room on the seventh floor across from the weird tapestry of ballerina trolls, Dorcas ducked into the little blanket and pillow nest. Under a stack of cushions, Dorcas removed a slim package that she had wrapped in green paper with a silver bow.
She practically shoved it into Tom's face as he was climbing into the cramped space behind her. He chuckled at her eagerness and produced a small parchment envelope from the breast pocket of his shirt.
They each took the present that the other had offered.
"I like the wrapping," Tom noted as he untied the bow.
Dorcas laughed. "I thought you would."
Dorcas held the envelope Tom gave her reverently and waited for him to finish unwrapping her gift.
He pulled the bow off and folded the paper back to reveal a journal bound in black calfskin with silver brackets that fortified the corners. He flipped it over and saw his name embossed on the back cover in gold letters. He ran a finger over his name and looked at Dorcas in astonishment.
"This is…" he looked back at the diary and fanned through the pages, apparently lost for words. "It's.."
"I thought you might want something to keep all of your research in," Dorcas explained, covering his speechlessness. "Initially, I thought it might be something you could keep your research about your ancestors in."
His eyes darted from the gift to her face and she feared he might renew his protests concerning Little Hangelton and the other Tom Riddle.
Dorcas cut him off and hurried on. "But now that you've been studying Horcruxes, I think this might be just the thing to keep all of your notes in. After all," Dorcas lifted the thick book from the Restricted Section that rested on top of the little collection of books stacked next to the candle between them. "This book's running out of space. You've filled just about every margin."
He smiled at her, his argument concerning the other Tom diffused expertly.
"I found it in a little stationery shop on Vauxhall Road. I actually bought it the day before we saw each other at the record shop."
Tom nodded, remembering the meeting. "When we were driven into the Underground by that air raid drill." He rubbed his neck and his eyes became distant. "That seems like a lifetime ago."
Dorcas nodded. "Yeah, a lot has happened."
Tom laid the diary aside and thanked her. "Open yours."
Dorcas had forgotten that her hands held the little envelope. She unfolded the parchment flap and tipped its contents into her hand. Inhaling audibly in surprise, she dropped the paper and took the clasp of the thin silver chain from her palm, holding it up so that the pure white pendant of a small carved bird dangled before her eyes.
She instantly recalled Anneliese's earlier statement regarding Darren's gift to Cherry. Did this mean Tom was serious about her? And what did that even mean?
"Oh, Tom!" she finally said after gaping at it for a moment longer. "I've never owned anything so beautiful!"
"I'm glad you like it, Birdie," Tom said, the smile on his face reflected her pleasure.
"But it must have been very dear!" Dorcas began to wonder how he could have afforded it. Her mind then lept to other means he might have resorted to in order to obtain the gift for her.
"No," Tom said. "It wasn't dear. I made it."
Dorcas was doubly shocked. How could she have suspected him of thievery? When had he made this? How had he made it?
"You made this?" She knew her eyes were comically widened at the surprise that overtook her. "Is that alabaster?"
Tom nodded. "Yeah. I got it from a broken statue back there." Tom indicated with a wave of his hand that he used materials from further into the secret room. Dorcas imagined that all sorts of materials could be found in this place. "The chain came from another necklace I found in here. I just polished it up a bit."
She felt her mouth hanging open, but was speechless as she stared at her gift.
"May I?" Tom asked.
Dorcas nodded and shifted so that her back was to Tom. He took the necklace from her and placed it around her neck. Dorcas touched the intricate little bird at her collarbone. It was beautiful, but rendered even more precious to her for having been made by Tom's hands.
His fingers lingered on her neck and then she felt him touch the comb that held her hair off of her back.
"Is this new?" he asked.
Dorcas turned to face him once more. "Yes, a gift from Cherry and Anneliese."
Tom didn't respond, but laid back on a pile of cushions and picked up the diary that Dorcas had given him.
She shifted closer to him and thanked him for her gift with a kiss. Taking her customary position tucked against his right side, she felt him wrap an arm around her as she closed her eyes. She felt so contented next to him.
"Do you remember the plan?" Tom asked after a while.
"Which?" Dorcas asked, her mind was full of the kinds of distractions that proximity to Tom often elicited in her.
"The plan to get that book from your uncle's library," Tom said a little impatiently.
"Crux Anima Bodhi," Dorcas replied. "Yes, I remember, Tom." Dorcas was a little short in her response. Why did he insist on ruining a lovely evening? She hadn't forgotten the plan. How hard would it be to grab a book that sat with thousands of others on a shelf unprotected? To walk in, take the book and put it in her school trunk was less a plan and more of a to do list.
She felt his fingers tighten on her shoulder. "My plans cannot move forward without that book, Birdie. I'm depending on you."
Dorcas looked up at him. "I know, Tom. I won't let you down."
He brushed his fingers across her forehead and cheek. His touch set off a strange avalanche of feelings inside of her. She wanted his touch, but feared it at the same moment. It was a curious sensation.
:::
24 December, 1940 Blackpool Abbey, Upper Flagley, Yorkshire
Dorcas dare not lay abed too much longer. She knew that her aunt and the house elves would be hard at work making the house festive for the party that evening. She should offer her help.
She'd fallen asleep with Crux Anima Bodhi open beside her, notes splayed out over its open pages. Dorcas cursed herself and remembered the reassurances she'd given Tom that he could trust her. Maybe he was right to be worried whether she had the fortitude to pull off this simple heist.
She folded her parchment notes and stuffed them and the book into the bottom of her school trunk in a rush. Grabbing a wool skirt and a jumper, she closed the trunk and hastily threw her nightgown over her head.
A knock at the door made Dorcas leap behind the dressing screen in the corner of her room.
"Yes?"
"It's Jonas," her cousin's voice came from the other side of the door.
Dorcas peered around the screen to reassure herself that the trunk was securely closed.
"Come in," she called, her voice muffled under the jumper she was tugging over her head.
"Oh good! You're up!" Jonas observed, making himself at home at her dressing table, hitching one ankle up over the other knee.
Dorcas hiked her skirt over her hips and zipped it. "Was there something in particular you wanted?"
"I'm being tasked with collecting holly and mistletoe. I want you to come with me," Jonas said.
"Heavens!" Dorcas responded, dripping sarcasm. "An important errand. And they're trusting you with this?"
"Shut up!" Jonas replied. "Dress warm. Wear boots."
With that last command, he left. Coming from any other family member, it would have sounded offensive. Jonas was like a demanding little brother. Dorcas never took any offense to the things he said.
:::
"Has your father gotten your marks for the first term?" Dorcas asked. Jonas's grades were a matter of pride for her. There was a notable difference in his attention to school work. She liked to think she had something to do with that.
"I don't think they're in yet," Jonas responded. He tried to sound offhand, but Dorcas could tell that he was anxious for his father to notice the turn about he'd made in his studies.
They walked through an overgrown trail in the forest. The space between the trees was narrow and rocks made the path zigzag in spots. The snow made it treacherous.
Dorcas held a sack of mistletoe that she'd managed to summon from the treetops of some oaks and elms. Jonas had the dangerous job of clipping holly and shoving it into a bag. He was wearing gloves, but still cursed every time the prickly leaves bit into him.
"I've heard a rumor about you," Jonas said after a moment.
"What rumor?" Dorcas asked curiously. What could she have possibly done that anyone would want to take the time to talk about and pass along?
"Are you and Tom dating?"
Dorcas shrugged. "It's not a secret."
Jonas turned toward her and offered his hand to her as she negotiated a particularly icy patch.
"I think Gemma's planning to use that to get to you somehow. I haven't quite worked it out," Jonas said, almost to himself.
"Get to me?" Dorcas asked.
"Yeah. She hasn't forgotten about the spiders. I told you not to do it."
Dorcas scoffed. "I'm not afraid of Gemma."
:::
She surveyed the hand-me-down dresses from Gemma that were hanging in the wardrobe in her bedroom. Dorcas did not know which one would be best. Judging by the decorations she'd seen, it was to be a lavish party.
Unsure of which dress might compliment her features, what color was appropriate for winter, or any number of things other girls appeared to know the answers to instinctively, Dorcas hesitated. She slammed the door closed on all of her choices.
There was a soft knock at the door followed by Tooey's voice.
"Is Miss ready to change for the party?"
Dorcas raced to the door in hopes that the house elf could choose an appropriate dress for her.
"I'm trying," Dorcas explained, stepping back to allow Tooey the space to enter with a large box lifted over her head. "But I'm lost when it comes to picking out things to wear."
"Master has given you this to wear, Miss," Tooey said with a flourish, floating the box onto Dorcas's bed. A dress of deep red was revealed under the lid. Tooey crooked one finger and it unfolded itself and hung midair for Dorcas's appraisal.
It was a beautiful dress. Dorcas guessed that it would sweep the floor when she put it on. The fabric was a curiously light material that seemed to move with the slightest breeze. The sleeves were the merest fluttery ruffle.
"Does Miss approve?" Tooey asked eagerly. "I've made the alterations the same as all of your other dresses."
Dorcas realized that Tooey had taken her silence as an indictment of her work.
"Tooey," Dorcas hurried to take the dress from where it floated. "It's beautiful. You've outdone yourself."
The fabric felt light and sheer and weightless in her hands.
"But, Tooey," Dorcas said with a slight hesitation. "Won't I freeze in this?"
Tooey laughed. The sound reminded Dorcas of bells.
"No, Miss," Tooey explained. "The house has enchantments. Gimlet has seen to everything. You will be comfortable."
Dorcas nodded, convinced that the garment she was about to don would be appropriate. Tooey, she reasoned, would not let her go downstairs wearing something completely ridiculous.
Slipping out of her heavy woolen skirt and jumper that she'd hastily thrown on earlier, she replaced it with the silky, fluttery material of the dress and actually closed her eyes with pleasure at the way it felt against her skin. And this beautiful garment was not some cast-off, previously worn by her stunning cousin. It was all hers. Never debuted at another dinner or another party. She would be the first to wear it.
She was anxious to see herself in the mirror. Would she look like a sallow string bean? Would she look like a plain girl in an exquisite dress?
Stepping in front of the floor-length pier glass in the corner, Dorcas inhaled and opened her eyes. She was surprised by the transformation that was wrought by the dress.
She needn't be worried that the dress would wash her color away. Rather, it enhanced the porcelain skin of her arms and her collarbone. She turned and looked at the back of the dress in the mirror's reflection. It was a lower cut than she would have preferred. Her shoulder blades and several ribs were exposed by the plunging lines. Perhaps if she wore her hair down…
Tooey squashed any notion of covering her shoulders and back with a curtain of lank hair. She pushed the dressing table's chair over to Dorcas and set to work curling and pinning immediately.
Dorcas followed the house elf's quick movements in the dressing table's mirror. Tooey was expertly affecting a style that would sweep all of Dorcas's dark hair into a loose twist behind her left ear. A finger wave effect allowed her hair to frame her face interestingly.
When Tooey had completed her hair and added the barest amount of makeup, Dorcas had only to slip on the heels that accompanied the dress in the same shade of red and join the others downstairs to greet their guests.
"Miss," Tooey said with a wide smile spreading across her face. "You are a beautiful girl."
Dorcas smiled at the house elf's kind words. "In your capable hands, Tooey, I have been transformed."
Pausing on the stairs, Dorcas felt so alien in her own body. She felt more like an actress playing a part than a girl at a party in her family's home.
She touched Tom's gift which hung at the base of her throat. It was the one thing she wore tonight that felt like her. It anchored her.
Dorcas concentrated on taking the stairs one at a time, fearing that she would tangle her heels in the low hem of her dress and fall. Only when she neared Blackpool's grand entrance did she dare to look up from her own feet.
The shock she felt when she saw two unexpected faces nearly caused her to tumble down the final two steps.
Tom hurried forward and took her hand to steady her.
She felt her color rise from the low but not immodest neckline of her dress and settle into her cheeks as he drank in the sight of her.
Her eyes were no less shocked by his transformation. Would she ever get over the sight of her already heart wrenchingly handsome boyfriend in a white bow tie and waistcoat with black tails and shoes polished to a high shine?
She wanted to ask him a million questions, but was stunned into silence.
"Dorcas?" came a familiar voice from over Tom's shoulder. It had been too long since she'd heard it.
The voice belonged to the second person she hadn't expected to see that night: her mother. Mary-Ellen stood with her brother and sister-in-law as they stationed themselves near the entryway to greet their guests.
Mary-Ellen wore a dress similar in color to Dorcas's but in a lush velvet with long, dramatic sleeves. The sum of her dress, her hair, her jewelry reminded Dorcas that her mother had not always been a practical, no frills East Ender. She'd grown up here and probably attended many a party at Christmastime. The ease with which she could stand in this grand entryway in an evening gown was a revelation to Dorcas.
"My darling girl," Mary-Ellen said as Dorcas rushed into her arms. "Happy Christmas!"
"Is Morty here?" Dorcas knew it would be too much to hope for, but asked in any case.
Mary-Ellen shook her head. "No. He stayed in London with Mrs. Spratt."
"We've been chatting with your fine young man here," Uncle Lysander said, nodding at Tom who stood at Dorcas's elbow.
"You seemed surprised to see him," Mary-Ellen observed.
Dorcas stepped back from her mother and took Tom's hand. "I didn't know you were coming," she admitted to Tom.
"Gemma wrote to me only a week ago and told me about your new romance," her Aunt Eden clarified. "So I thought I would invite him to come. I haven't erred, have I?" she added with an innocent bat of her lashes.
"Not at all," Dorcas replied, squeezing Tom's hand. "You were kind to include him."
Mary-Ellen smiled and Lysander looked at his wife with narrowed eyes.
"You're from our neighborhood, are you not?" Mary-Ellen asked, to cover Eden's rudeness. "I believe I've seen you around."
"Yes, ma'am," Tom replied, speaking for the first time since Dorcas had come downstairs.
"The school's board of governors receives regular reports on our scholarship students," Uncle Lysander spoke of Tom and to him at the same time. "Professor Dippet informs us that Tom here is the top of the class in every subject. You'll go far in the Ministry, son. I can introduce you to the right people. Your humble origins and aptitude for magic. Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot or even Minister of Magic one day for you, eh?"
Dorcas squeezed Tom's hand once more, knowing that he loathed to be put on the spot or singled out in any way.
Aunt Eden's notice seemed to take a decidedly disinterested turn as Tom was declared a scholarship student.
Mary-Ellen placed a hand on her brother's arm, gently guiding him away from the detailed planning of Tom's future. "The young ones will want to join their friends, brother. Let's not keep them."
"Of course," Lysander said as his wife turned to greet some newcomers. "Do enjoy yourselves."
"I'm sorry for my family," Dorcas apologized as she and Tom moved into the ballroom.
She had only been in this room for the first time this afternoon, helping Tooey string the mistletoe and holly into garlands. She had not witnessed the full, breathtaking effect of the splendid decorations until now.
To be in this room meant to forget the war raging in the rest of Europe altogether. There was no hint of rationing or of deprivation anywhere. The table was laden with all manner of delicacies: caviar, fresh fruit that would have to have been imported at great expense this time of year, more puddings than she could count. Dorcas could smell the beef that was being brought in at this very moment by Gimlet. Beef! Even at Hogwarts, meat was hard to come by. But not here. No less than twenty pineapples crowned the entire festive display.
And the band was striking up another merry tune.
Tom led her onto the dancefloor and held her close. Dorcas didn't have to probe his mind too deeply to know what he was thinking. His hand was on the bare skin of her back and his mind was inundated with the sensation of it.
Dorcas cleared her throat. She was certain that another blush was rising from her neck and into her cheeks.
"Tell me everything," Dorcas asked. "Why are you here?"
Tom blinked in surprise. "Don't you want me here?"
"Of course I do!" Dorcas exclaimed.
He shrugged and led her expertly through the steps of a Viennese waltz. It seemed to her that someone had snatched her down-to-earth, practical, Poplar Tom and replaced him with a smooth, high-society, waltzing Tom. Although the result was fascinating, it was also disconcerting.
"You heard your aunt. She invited me."
His thumb began to trace a path down her spine.
"Behave!" Dorcas chided, giving her shoulders a shimmy to shake him off.
He raised his eyebrows at her and smiled. He was enjoying the way he riled her.
"Why didn't you tell me you'd be coming?"
Tom shrugged again. "I hadn't decided yet if I would. And I wanted to surprise you."
Dorcas nodded. "I'm sorry about my uncle back there."
He furrowed his brow. "Why?"
"The scholarship stuff and the offers to set you up at the Ministry. He's too much sometimes."
Tom pulled her closer. "I'm used to it. Part of being an orphan means everyone else has decided for you what you are and what you will become. I have no intention of letting anyone tell me what I'm capable of doing."
Dorcas gave his upper arm an affectionate squeeze and smiled at him. "I know."
"Your aunt doesn't care for you much," Tom said this as a statement of fact rather than a question.
It was Dorcas's turn to shrug and let grievances roll off of her. "I'm the poor relation that she must suffer on occasion."
"Look at us!" Tom said, turning to the floor to ceiling wall of mirrors on the north end of the ballroom, pointing to the reflection of the two of them as they danced.
"Two poor kids from the East End, gate crashing a society gig. That's got to be a Hollywood plotline!" Dorcas laughed. But they were a handsome couple, she allowed herself to think.
:::
Dorcas stood with her mother at the marble railing of the balcony that ran the length of the ballroom. She wasn't sure how Gimlet had managed it, but the air was comfortable even out here, even with snow on the ground.
The veranda below was bustling with Gemma and her friends; mostly fellow Slytherin students, playing a party game of some sort.
Dorcas looked past them and out onto the garden. The hedgerows that formed a maze were aglow with twinkling fairy lights that glistened in the snow. The scene was enchanting.
One lone figure loitered near the mouth of the labyrinth with a glass of punch in his hand. Tom was watching his housemates at a distance. He looked on dispassionately as Gemma was organizing a game in which someone was blindfolded and had to cast about with their hands until they touched another member of their party. They would then have to guess who that someone was by touch alone.
It would be an unfair game were Dorcas and Tom to participate. One glance at the mind of the person they touched would reveal their identity immediately.
Dorcas smiled as she watched the others enjoying themselves. Evlyn Rosier was wearing the blindfold at this moment. The others danced and dodged out of his way until Gemma coquettishly put herself in his path. Evlyn's hands traveled from Gemma's arms to her shoulders, her neck, and then her face. He placed a palm on each of her cheeks and kissed her on the lips to the hoots of the onlookers.
"Gemma!" Evlyn proclaimed, snatching the blindfold from his eyes in triumph.
"You look a little thin," Dorcas's mother said, distracting her from the scene below. "Are you eating, Dorcas?"
She smiled at her mother reassuringly. "Yes, mum. I eat!"
Mary-Ellen shrugged and returned her daughter's smile. "I just worry! I haven't seen you in over four months."
"How is Morty?"
Mary-Elllen threaded her arm through Dorcas's. "He's been very well. Almost no spells. He spends a lot of time with Betty."
"Betty, the neighbor?" Dorcas asked. She liked Betty. She was a glamorous singer at a London nightclub and had been generous enough to teach Dorcas how to play the piano. She was always kind to Morty.
Dorcas continued to watch the scene below. Jonas's warning about Gemma planning to revenge herself on Dorcas somehow tonight was forefront in her mind.
"Yes." Mary-Ellen hesitated a moment. Dorcas looked away from the merriment below and turned to her mother.
"What is it, mum?"
"I received a letter from Professor Dumbledore not long ago."
Dorcas wondered if her mother would take the opportunity while they were together in order to lecture her on the proper respect she ought to show for her teachers.
"Yes, I know. He told me he'd written to you," Dorcas said, eyes downcast.
"Darling, you don't have to be afraid for Morty all of the time. What happened last Christmas was a horrible accident. But it was not your fault. He's doing well. He gets out and goes for walks in the park, he goes to the museum with Mrs. Spratt. He's going to have a full life despite his difficulties. You don't have to carry that burden with you constantly."
Dorcas inhaled. "Mum, he's not a burden to me. I want to be there to help out. I want to lighten your load. But I can't do that when you ship me off here all of the time."
"You asked to come here," Mary-Ellen said, confused. "You said you enjoyed it here."
Dorcas nodded. "I do like it here. But it's not home."
"I'm sorry, Dorcas. I want you home as well. But London's dangerous just now."
Dorcas disagreed with her mother, but would not continue to argue the point. She changed the subject instead.
"Have you been working a lot at the hospital?" Dorcas asked.
Gemma was moving across the veranda to where Tom stood, the blindfold in her hands swinging as she walked. Dorcas could not hear her cousin's words but she could read her thoughts as clear as a page in a rather simple book. Gemma wanted to lure Tom into the game to kiss him.
So that was her plan. She thought she could turn Tom's head and make him forget about Dorcas? It wouldn't work. It was such a grasping and pathetic ploy.
"The need is great," she heard Mary-Ellen say beside her. "Not just at St. Mungo's, but at all of the area hospitals."
Tom allowed himself to be coaxed into the midst of the partygoers, setting his punch on the marble railing.
Gemma tied the blindfold across his eyes.
Dorcas hoped that Tom was listening to Gemma's mind as well. He would not like being made a fool of. Dorcas's hand clenched at the railing in front of her, wanting desperately to scratch her cousin's eyes out.
Tom must have been listening. Dorcas could see the shades of his mind. He was playing along with Gemma's little farce.
Just as she had with her boyfriend, Gemma deliberately placed herself in Tom's grasp. But as Gemma grabbed his lapels and pulled him to her, preparing to meet his lips with hers he turned away and her kiss missed its mark, landing somewhere around his left cheek.
The crowd assembled around for the game jeered at Gemma for her missed chance. Everyone except her boyfriend. Evlyn Rosier drained the champagne from the glass in his hand and threw it at the bannister of the veranda, walking away into the hedgerow maze.
"Oh!" Mary-Ellen exclaimed hotly. "The brass cheek of that girl!"
Apparently Dorcas's mother had been following the same scene and was indignant over her niece's indecorous display.
"Excuse me, mum."
Dorcas picked her way carefully down the steps and onto the veranda. She had intended to extricate Tom from the group, but had somehow become a part of the game herself.
Callum Sayre was now wearing the blindfold. His hands were groping the air for a partygoer. The group dodged and backed away from him.
Dorcas was carefully picking her way through the edge of the crowd, trying to reach Tom at the railing. She felt hands on her back shoving her forward and into Callum's grasp. The position of his hands and Dorcas's chest made for a bawdy combination.
There was raucous laughter from the boys and girls surrounding her and Callum. Realizing a moment later what had happened, Callum's hands retreated as if scalded. He tore the blindfold from his eyes and began apologizing to Dorcas, his face turning an alarming shade of crimson in his embarrassment.
Dorcas tried to reassure him that she had not thought he'd acted purposefully. Before she could turn around and confront the coward who had pushed her into Callum's waiting hands, Tom was already on the offender.
Roman Flint was on the ground with his arms held up to block his face. Tom was aiming punches at his ribs in an effort to get him to drop his block. It worked and Tom did not miss his shot. The crunch of Roman's nose breaking was sickening.
Dorcas barely registered the scene of violence in front of her. Her mind was focused on Gemma. Like a puppeteer, she'd pulled this string and that string in order to humiliate Dorcas in front of about a sixth of the students from school. Gemma was replaying the scene between Callum and Dorcas in her mind. She'd suggested to Roman that it would be a gas to push Dorcas into Callum's arms as she walked by.
Roman probably regretted his part in Gemma's nonsense right about now, Dorcas thought uncharitably.
Wes Rookwood and Stone Zabini struggled to pull Tom off of Roman.
"ENOUGH!"
Everyone assembled ceased their various doings when Lysander Rackharrow's voice thundered from above them.
Dorcas had never heard her uncle raise his voice. It was a terrifying sound she hoped she'd never have occasion to hear again. He was standing on the steps that led from the balcony to the veranda. His furious green eyes never left Gemma. It was clear when Dorcas read his thoughts that he knew exactly where the blame was to be placed.
He took the steps slowly, reaching a hand up to smooth his dark hair back into place. It was a gesture that Dorcas understood to mean that he was trying to calm his simmering temper.
She felt a hand take hers and saw Jonas next to her. She hadn't noticed him there before. He pulled her away from the throng and toward the periphery as if worried that she would become a casualty to his father's coming tempest.
Wes and Stone were the only moving elements in the frozen tableau, trying to pry Tom off of Roman, who was in a fetal position on the ground.
"Tom," Lysander said, speaking gently but firmly. "Enough. He's been bested. Let him be."
Tom heeded Dorcas's uncle and stepped away from the battered boy. Refusing, though, to stay and defend his actions, Tom shook off Wes and Stone and stalked away into the hedgerows of the garden's maze and disappeared.
Callum Sayre darted quickly from Tom's path, fearing he would be the next victim of Tom's fury.
Dorcas could only see a white hot rage when she inspected Tom's thoughts as he retreated.
Mary-Ellen came out of the house shortly after her brother with a bowl of water, some linens, and her wand in hand. Lysander helped Roman from his beaten position on the ground and into a chair across from Mary-Ellen.
"Everyone," Lysander addressed the onlookers. "Please help yourself to refreshments inside." It was a polite request to be gone.
Dorcas released Jonas's hand and traced Tom's steps into the garden. Her mind repeated Jonas's warning about Gemma wanting to exact revenge. What a spectacular catastrophe she had orchestrated! All because of a few spiders!
She picked up the hem of her dress and tried to negotiate the slushy puddles of snow on the path into the maze.
From her vantage on the ballroom's balcony, the maze had looked rather simple. From the ground, it became far more complicated.
"Tom?" Dorcas called, trying to pick out any hint of his prints on the path. There were a few different pairs. Others had been in here tonight. She tried to reach him with her mind, but couldn't hear anything.
She made one turn and then another.
"Tom?" she called again.
There were footfalls on the gravel path ahead of her so she rushed onward.
Someone was in front of her walking slowly in her direction. But it wasn't Tom.
She heard his thoughts; they were sullen musings over a kiss. Evlyn had come into the maze to grouse over Gemma's attempted lip lock with Tom.
"Evlyn," Dorcas asked, hurrying toward him. "Have you seen Tom?"
"No," he seethed, rounding on her. "He'd better hope I don't."
Dorcas turned away. He would be no help to her.
The maze forked. She had two options.
"Where are you running off to?" Evlyn asked. "Wait up!"
She quickened her pace, her heart beating faster when she detected his footsteps behind her on the gravel. She tried not to see the bent of his mind, but it was hard to miss his intentions.
"Tom!" Her voice carried a frantic note.
Her hand went to her hip where her wand usually rested in her skirt pocket. Her dress had no pockets and she'd left her wand in her room on this occasion. What an unfathomably stupid mistake! She knew that Tom would have scolded her for the oversight.
She stumbled when her heel became stuck in the gravel of the path and she lurched forward.
It was all the opportunity Evlyn needed. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her upright.
"Let's you and I make them jealous."
Dorcas pulled herself free of his grip. "Are you drunk?"
"Maybe," Evlyn conceded.
As he stepped nearer, Dorcas was backed into the corner of a hedgerow. His fingertips traced the length of her right arm all the way up to her shoulder. Hooking a finger under the strap of her dress, he slipped it down her arm.
In the same moment, Dorcas pushed him back and heard the tearing sound as the fabric of the strap gave way. Fighting him seemed to excite him further. His mind gave away his plans and Dorcas searched for a way to be free of him before he could act upon any of them.
Evlyn was distractedly kissing her neck when she found her opportunity. Playing along, her hands groped underneath his jacket. A groan from deep in Evlyn's throat told her that she was convincing enough.
"I had an instinct about you," Evlyn was saying as his lips moved from her neck to her collarbone.
"Oh yeah?" Dorcas found what she was looking for in his waistcoat. "What was your instinct?"
His mind was distracted as his hands explored her backside; he hadn't noticed her slip his wand out of his waistcoat pocket and point it at him.
"On second thought, I don't care." She aimed the wand point blank between his eyes and shouted, "STUPIFY!"
Evlyn landed a meter in front of her with a pleasing crunch on the gravel.
She threw his wand over the hedgerow behind her and kicked him hard in the ribs as she walked past. "Miserable prick!"
Tom came around the bend in the bushes and saw Evlyn's body. Dorcas walked past the unmoving boy without looking back.
"Are you ready to get out of here? I'm sick of this party," Dorcas asked, coming to stand next to Tom. She tried to sound casual, but she could not camouflage the hard edge of her voice.
Tom seemed to waver for a moment, looking between Evlyn and Dorcas. He removed his coat and placed it over her shoulders.
She didn't explain what had happened and he didn't ask. But Dorcas heard him add it all up in his head: the torn dress, the unconscious boy in the hedge maze.
:::
Dorcas led Tom up to her room on the third floor by way of the postern stairs in the kitchen at the back of the house. She was not interested in meeting any more of Gemma's disgusting mates, nor was she interested in explaining her disheveled appearance to any adults.
"Your housemates are all so charming!" she finally said, opening the door to her room and removing Tom's jacket. She folded it neatly and laid it over the chair at her dressing table.
Tom followed her in and shut the door behind them.
"Am I guilty by association, then?" he asked, matching her flinty tone.
Dorcas exhaled the tense breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding since she'd left the garden. She was wound tight and wanted to take it out on Tom. But he hadn't done anything wrong.
"No, you're not. I'm sorry," Dorcas apologized and surveyed the damage done to her dress in the large mirror beside the dressing table. She lifted her eyes from the torn strap and met Tom's reflection in the mirror.
He smiled disarmingly and stretched across her bed. "Can it be salvaged? I really like that dress."
"Yeah," Dorcas answered. "I'll get Tooey to fix it tomorrow."
Dorcas disappeared behind the dressing screen and pulled down the nightgown that she'd flung on top of it that morning. She kicked the heels off of her feet and into the corner.
"Do you want to talk about what happened back there?" Tom asked as Dorcas changed out of the torn dress.
"Nope," Dorcas replied succinctly.
"Birdie," Tom asked, his voice was gentle but insistent. "What did he do to you?"
Dorcas took a steadying breath as she slipped the dress down her hips and let it pool on the floor around her feet. She pulled on the white cotton nightgown and stepped out of the ethereal red material, leaving it in a heap on the rug as if it had caused the offense.
"Nothing! He was drunk and tried to have it on with me. I stole his wand and stunned him. The end," Dorcas explained agitatedly, crossing to her dressing table where her wand lay. She grabbed it and placed it behind her ear and then moved to the trunk at the end of her bed and rummaged inside for Crux Anima Bodhi and her notes. All of this allowed her the opportunity to avoid looking at Tom.
"I don't think that's the end of it at all," Tom said darkly.
"What do you mean?" Dorcas asked, emerging with the book and her scribbled thoughts on three sheets of parchment.
She climbed onto the bed next to Tom and arranged herself, sitting cross legged facing him with the book and her notes open in her lap.
"I saw Gemma's thoughts when she tried to trick me into kissing her," Tom explained.
Dorcas nodded. "I wondered if you'd be able to do that here."
Tom shrugged. "Apparently. Anyway, she's got a vendetta against you for some reason. She was the one that suggested that asshole push you into Sayre."
"Yeah. I heard her thoughts too. But you didn't have to hit him," Dorcas said, reaching for Tom's hand and studying his bloodied knuckles.
She took her wand from behind her ear and healed the abrasions that he'd gotten when he broke Roman's nose.
Tom snorted derisively. "Yes, I did. He's had it coming for a while."
Dorcas shook her head but thought better of arguing with Tom over what Roman had coming.
"Well," Dorcas changed the subject. "Happy Early Birthday!"
She set the heavy tome and her notes in front of him.
"Excellent!"
Dorcas leaned forward on her knees over the book as Tom took it into his lap and ran his eyes down the first page of her notes.
"I've thought a lot about the person you're meant to kill. I don't love the idea of you killing anyone, so I thought maybe we could use our abilities the next time we're in London. You know, scout out someone who's done something really bad by reading their mind. That way it won't be as bad as killing someone who's innocent." Dorcas said all of this in a rush; excited to make some practical first steps in Tom's plan for immortality.
"First of all," Tom said, looking up from the notes she'd made as she finished. "You are not going anywhere near some murderer, let alone hunting one. I'll do that on my own. Secondly, apart from getting this for me," he lifted up the book. "I don't want you involved. It's dangerous and illegal. The Ministry won't be able to pin anything on you if you've had no part in it."
"Like hell you're going to do this on your own, Tom Riddle!" Dorcas hissed, trying hard not to yell and bring the attention of any partygoers their way. "We're partners!"
Tom looked at her as if deciding how best to dissuade her from insisting on being a part of his pursuit of a Horcrux. Dorcas sat back on her heels and glared at him.
"Well," Tom responded diplomatically. "We're not going to do any of this tomorrow. I expect we'll have plenty of time to debate the particulars."
Dorcas was mollified for the moment.
She pointed to the next page of notes, relaxing into a recumbent position next to Tom. He laid back on the pillows beside her with the book propped on his knees.
"I've also considered the type of vessel you'll need. It's got to be something durable. Something that's got value so that it will be protected, maintained."
Dorcas began to pull the pins out of her hair as Tom read down the list.
"Jewelry, trophy/ award, artifact (like a statue, British Museum?)." Here Tom paused and laughed. "You want me to break into the British Museum and turn...what, some cult statue of Horus into a Horcrux?"
Dorcas shrugged, stung by his tone. "Why not? Who would ever suspect? And think of all those Muggles whose job it is to keep the vessel containing your soul safe from harm!"
Tom's laughter died out as he thought for a moment, rubbing his index finger across his lip and gazing at the space in front of him. "You might be onto something, Birdie."
"I'm brilliant! You can say it!"
Tom did not admit that she was brilliant, but rewarded her ingenuity with a peck on the lips.
Dorcas rested her head against his shoulder and they filled the next hour planning Tom's rending of his soul. The underhanded plotting of Gemma and the drunken assault of Evlyn were long forgotten.
A/N: Reviews are welcome and appreciated.
