Chapter Five: Sick and Tired
Nothing was going right. Ral stared moodily at the players circling the Quidditch field on brooms and tried not to let his attention be drawn three rows back and two seats to the left, where Emmara was practically climbing into Jace's gauntlet still wasn't doing anything. Well, it spit colored sparks when someone cast a spell near it, but that was it. This was officially the worst school year Ral had had in his life. He knew he needed to start paying attention to his schoolwork again, or he was going to be in a lot of trouble, what with N.E.W.T.s on the horizon, but he couldn't seem to focus lately. Hell, he could barely get himself to eat.
With a sigh, he stared up at Elspeth, who was circling around the outside of the field on her broom. Something about that seemed odd to him. Shouldn't she be chasing the Quaffle? But it was being tossed back and forth almost at the other end of the field now. Ral saw one of her teammates tilt her broom back toward Elspeth, saw a hand waved in a frustrated gesture. Elspeth's broom waggled in the air as she turned it again, and Ral felt uneasiness roiling up in his stomach. He'd watched her play Quidditch before, and her motions tended to be strong and purposeful, but now she was almost wobbling, and though she seemed to be trying to turn in the direction of the Quaffle, the nose of her broom was wavering. It was almost as if she was losing her grip and going to—
The broom veered sharply to the right as Elspeth slipped off. Ral was on his feet before he knew what he was doing, wand in hand. "Wingardium leviosa!" he screamed, over the roar of the crowd, half of whom hadn't even noticed. Heat shot through one hand and a shower of sparks burst from the base of his wand, but Elspeth's tumble jerked to a stop abruptly, as she hung, head lolling, from the robes that Ral had caught with the levitation charm.
A long moment passed before anyone seemed to realize what had happened, a moment that Ral used to control the trembling in his limbs, to force the sparks to dissipate, and to slowly, gently bring Elspeth to the ground. Then the crowd went silent, a whistle blew, and Ral found himself halfway across the field along with Professors Granger and Potter, kneeling beside Elspeth's crumpled form. Her face was horrifyingly white and pale, and for an instant, he thought she wasn't breathing, but then she blinked her eyes and opened them.
"Merlin," she murmured. "What happened?" She made a movement as if she were trying to sit up, and Professor Potter put out a hand to stop her, but before he could, she moaned and sank back down. "I'm so dizzy."
"Let's get her to the hospital wing," Professor Potter said.
"She doesn't have any broken bones," agreed Professor Granger. "I don't know what's wrong." Ral hadn't even noticed the tip of her wand glowing, or heard any kind of muttered incantation. He was too busy trying to control the heat building in his right hand again. Just a few more deep breaths should do it.
Professor Potter carefully picked Elspeth up, waving Ral back as he did so. "I've got her," he said, and Ral found himself trailing miserably after the two of them as they began to make their way off the Quidditch pitch. A sick glance back told him that Jace was finally standing up and looking in their direction, but his hand was still tightly entwined with Emmara's, and his hair was sticking up every which way. A sudden, tight ball in the pit of Ral's stomach accompanied a brief vision of Jace sitting in his lap, looking at him like that. No. He wasn't jealous. Jace should have been the first person to notice that Elspeth was flying erratically. He was usually the most observant of the three of them. It had to be a spell of some kind.
Ral followed the two professors carrying Elspeth right down to the hospital wing, until Professor Granger turned and told him, "I'm sorry, Ral, you'll need to wait outside."
Elspeth managed to look up and give him a small smile. "I'm okay," she murmured. "Just a virus. Sorry to worry you."
Sinking miserably back against the wall, Ral watched as the door to the hospital wing closed behind them. Professor Potter came out a moment later. "I'm sure she'll be fine," he said. "I'm sorry, Ral, I'd better get back to the pitch and figure out whether the game is going to finish or not."
Jace arrived minutes after Professor Potter had left, actually alone, for once.
"How's Elspeth?" he asked Ral breathlessly.
"I don't know." Ral stared at the door to the hospital wing, feeling abruptly unmoored and awkward. This was one of the first times Jace had spoken directly to him this year. Was he really under a spell? Or was Elspeth right; was Ral just desperately jealous? If he was under a spell, then Ral shouldn't be angry with Jace, should he? And yet he was, a hot, hurt, frustrated feeling that rose inside his chest and choked him until he could barely speak.
"What happened?" Jace fidgeted, leaning against the door awkwardly.
Ral ran a hand through his hair. "She fell off her broom. She said she felt dizzy."
"Is she okay? Did she break anything?"
He really hadn't been paying attention at all, had he?
"I caught her," Ral said. "Because I was watching her."
At least Jace had the grace to look ashamed of himself. "Sorry," he mumbled. "Emmara wanted to—" He paused, the expression on his face turning peculiar. "I just—I've never been with someone like this, you know? I guess I haven't been a great friend this year, have I? Fuck, forget it. Is she okay?"
"She didn't get hurt from the fall," Ral said slowly. "But she's exhausted and dizzy, and I don't know why."
"There's a virus going round the girls' dorm," Jace said. "Emmara told me. Maybe it's that?"
"How's Emmara?" Ral asked abruptly.
The expression on Jace's face shifted from worry into a sort of happy dreaminess. "Merlin, she is amazing," he said. "She's so nice, she's always worrying about me. She—" he broke off. "Oh, uh, you meant, is she sick."
Ral nodded, eyebrows climbing into his hair.
"No, she's okay so far." Jace shuffled awkwardly. "Uh, Ral…do you…" he paused, then shook his head. "Never mind."
So, Emmara wasn't sick. The anger in Ral's chest collapsed into a kind of peculiar, rapidly-pulsing ache. Could she be responsible for Elspeth being sick? It made a weird kind of sense, if she'd cast a spell on Jace, for some reason. But then, he'd expect himself to be getting sick as well, and he wasn't. Nothing made any sense. He pressed an angry hand to his head, just in time for several bright sparks of electricity to leap from his wrist to land with painful jolts on his cheeks.
Jace jerked in surprise. "What was that?" he asked, and, to Ral's surprise, he almost thought he saw concern brewing in Jace's dark eyes.
"Just having some trouble controlling my lightning spells," Ral said gruffly, before he thought about it, and then realized a moment later that he wouldn't have felt comfortable saying that to anyone who wasn't Elspeth or Jace. And that maybe saying it to Jace right now was a mistake.
Taking a half-step forward, his friend laid his hand on Ral's arm. "Maybe we should—"
"Jace, there you are!" Jace jerked back, with a look that Ral thought hopefully might almost have been annoyance, at the sound of Emmara's voice. The next instant he was turning around, though, plastering a smile across his face.
"Sorry, Emmara, I didn't mean to abandon you," he said lightly. "I just needed to check on Elspeth."
"Well, is she all right?" Emmara asked. She was short and fat, Ral thought viciously, although he had to admit she looked less childish with her fluffy hair framing her face instead of trapped in two plaits, the way it had been when he first met her.
"We don't really know what's wrong." Jace shifted uncomfortably. "She's not hurt, though. Might just be that virus."
Emmara pulled a face. "I'm just waiting to catch it myself," she said. "I haven't felt bad so far, but it's nearly everyone. It's just a matter of time." Her slight French accent grew a little more pronounced as she spoke. "I 'ope it isn't my fault that people are catching it. I could 'ave brought something over from the Continent, perhaps."
"I'm sure it wasn't your fault, my love." The term of endearment sat strangely on Jace's lips as he crossed to put his arms around Emmara. Jace, who was usually afraid of public displays of affection, unless it was hugging his mother, and even then, for the past few years, he had turned tomato-red when doing so. He tipped Emmara's face up to him and kissed her gently. Ral growled unintelligibly.
"Perhaps we should get back to the pitch?" Emmara suggested. "They are substituting in another player for Elspeth, so they will be starting again soon, I would imagine." Her pale blue eyes gleamed mockingly in her heart-shaped face, but her voice was solicitous. "Ral, would you like to come with us?"
"Nah, I'm good," Ral said. "I'd rather stay until I know that Elspeth's going to be okay."
"Don't worry too much." Emmara stepped forward and laid her hand on Ral's arm. She smelled like Jace, which made the gaping hole in Ral's stomach open up just a little further. This close, her breasts brushed lightly against the front of his arm, and he felt himself growing a little warm. "I'm sure Elspeth will be all right," Emmara said comfortingly, and she went up on her tiptoes and brushed a gentle kiss across his cheek in highly European fashion. Ral swallowed hard.
"Come on, Emmara," Jace said, suddenly sharp, and Ral stared helplessly at the glare crossing his friend's face. He shook Emmara off his arm, and she smiled sweetly and went back to Jace, glancing over her shoulder at Ral as the two of them left.
As soon as they were gone, Ral collapsed back against the wall. "Fuck," he muttered.
Harry sighed as he pushed open the door to the teachers' lounge. He was tired and had a nagging headache that never quite seemed to go away these days.
"No, it's none of these. Drat." Luna and Hermione were seated in the middle of the floor, apparently poring over a pile of thick books that were presumably from the Hogwarts library. They had the old, dusty, unused look of books that had been tucked into the Restricted Section and then forgotten.
"Do you need any help?" he asked, with a tired sigh. At least his favorite armchair was free, he thought to himself as he sank into it and applied a cold hand to his tender head.
"No, we've just finished looking through all these." Hermione sat back, frowning. "You really can't remember anything except boats?" she asked Luna, who shook her head.
"What are you looking for?" Harry asked with some interest. Over the years, Hermione's pet research projects had been both fascinating and generally useful.
Luna looked up. "A story," she said. "I think I remember seeing it when we were part of the DA. But I can't remember anything about the title of the book except that it makes me think of boats."
"Boats?" Harry echoed, scratching his head. "That's a bit odd."
"We know," Hermione sighed. "We're pretty sure it's not actually about boats, but we can't figure out why it would make her think of them."
"So why are you looking for a book that isn't about boats?" Harry sank down into the squashy armchair with a sigh of relief at getting the weight off his sore feet.
Luna and Hermione glanced at each other, and then Luna looked up and pushed her hair out of her eyes. "I found…" she trailed off and chewed on her lip, then shivered.
"Do you want me to tell the story?" Hermione asked, and, to Harry's surprise, she put a hand on Luna's shoulder.
Nodding, Luna suddenly turned and buried her face against Hermione's side. The other woman froze briefly, then awkwardly put an arm around her. "I'm sorry," Luna said, her voice muffled by Hermione's robes. "I keep thinking that I—that I am all right, and then I think about it, and it's just all—" she waved a hand, "—all dark and cold, somehow."
"Here." Harry fumbled in his robes until he found the bar of chocolate he always carried around with him. It was slightly squishy but he pushed it into Luna's hand anyway. "This might help."
"Thank you," Luna said. "What a good idea."
On the floor, Hermione shifted her sitting position as if she expected Luna to draw back to eat the chocolate, but instead, Luna only sat up slightly, still leaning against her, as she began to unwrap it. Harry watched in some confusion. He hadn't realized Luna was quite so cuddly.
"So," Harry prompted. "Hermione. Story?"
Instead of starting the story, Hermione was just staring down at Luna's bright head, her mouth hanging very slightly open. She drew in her breath sharply when Harry spoke. "O-oh! Of course." Drawing herself up, she gave him a brief outline of an experience Luna had clearly told her about at length.
As she did, Harry felt a cold lump congealing in the pit of his stomach. Whatever Luna had stumbled onto sounded like serious dark magic. Especially since Luna clearly was still being affected by whatever it was. And if something had gotten out, and they didn't even know what it was—it could be causing a lot of damage right now. The longer someone left it alone, the more damage it would do.
"I think I better go give it a look," Harry said slowly, as Hermione finished.
"Oh, Harry, no. We need you here. I know the Ministry is absolutely awful at this kind of thing because of all the bureaucracy, but can't you call in a favor from the Aurors?"
"They're still pretty stretched thin," Harry said, shifting uncomfortably. "I mean, I guess I could. I just—" he fidgeted. "—it's not that I don't trust them."
"You know you're a bit paranoid," Hermione said soothingly, but Luna straightened up.
"Would you?" she asked. Harry and Hermione looked at her. "Would you go look? I've been awfully worried about it. I didn't know who to talk to, and I thought I ought to have been able to deal with it myself, I mean, you know, I was in the DA myself and everything, but I'm so out of practice…"
Hermione looked from Luna to Harry, opened and closed her mouth, then sighed. "I suppose if you were only gone for a little while, we could cover your classes," she said slowly. "It would be a bit of a crunch, but…" She frowned. "Don't go by yourself, Harry," she said. "That's absolutely foolish. If it's some kind of very dark magic, then you'd better take someone along. Maybe several someones."
Although he didn't like it, Harry had to admit she had a point. "Yeah," he said.
"I volunteer," a voice drawled from the other side of the room. Draco Malfoy sat up with a yawn from the couch on the other side of the room where he must have been napping.
"Really," Hermione protested.
"Sorry." Draco shrugged. "I didn't want to interrupt you."
"I suppose it doesn't matter that you were eavesdropping," Hermione responded severely. "But we can't have you walking off as well. Who would cover Potions?"
"Slughorn owes me a favor or two." Draco shrugged. "I'm sure we can drag him back out of retirement for a week. Besides, Harry, you'll want me there."
Harry stared at him. It was true that for the past several years, he and Draco had been working together well. A little awkwardly, maybe—their childhood history wasn't going to vanish immediately, and Harry didn't entirely know how to deal with the fact that Draco might have had a worse childhood than he himself had. But they weren't exactly close. Whenever he tried to breach the wall that seemed to have grown up between them, it felt as if Draco would pull back, and whenever that happened, Harry wondered why he was trying. They'd never been friends, so why did he want that now? He shook his head.
"Erm," he said. "Why?"
Draco lifted his eyebrows at him, and Harry squirmed internally. That expression always made him feel hot and cold at the same time, and right now it was worse than usual. "Because, my dear Harry," Draco sat up slowly and ran a long-fingered hand through his ash-blond hair, "I have the kind of insider experience with dark magic that you lot can only dream of. How many truly cooperative ex-Death-Eaters can you get hold of on short notice? Or do you really think that this has nothing to do with Voldemort's crowd?"
"It's far too old for that!" Hermione said indignantly.
Draco gave her an indulgent smile. "The original enchantment, certainly. The broken enchantment? Wizards don't just go around letting nasty things out of containment for shits and giggles."
Hermione huffed in irritation, but gave a sigh and a nod. "A week or two of Slughorn won't kill anyone, I suppose," she said in a longsuffering tone of voice. "If you really feel this must be taken care of immediately."
"I think that it would be a good idea," Luna responded before Harry had the chance, and Hermione sighed again.
"All right. Do give me a day or two to keep the disruption to the students to a minimum."
Harry nodded, then glanced over again and caught Draco's eye. There was a hidden smirk on his friend's face. So, Harry thought, maybe he wasn't the only one who found the thought of battling something other than unruly teenagers to be a little bit exciting. He shook his head ruefully. Sometimes he wondered if he was really cut out to be a teacher.