Surviving Malfoy _ Part II : Anger and Depression

Douglas Dare 'Caroline' - Your precious words, they disappeared.

Chapter 3:

I stare at the coin in my hand, turning it over and over, inspecting the edges and making sure I haven't simply missed the dent. But no, it is an intact gold galleon, except for the letters now adorning it rather than the serial number.

The gentle thud of a closing drawer wakes me out of my stupor. Cassius has put last week's Owl Times away and I use the couple of seconds he still has his back turned to me to quickly stuff the coin back into my back pocket.

"How are you getting home?" He sits back down opposite me. He hasn't seen the coin, or if he has, he doesn't ask about it.

"I was going to apparate." I say, hesitating a moment. "Do you have an owl by any chance?"

He looks at me with curiosity for a moment before he nods as he gets up, turning towards the living room. Going home would be a waste of time now. I wouldn't be able to sleep, I wouldn't know what to do, what to respond, if at all. Cassius returns a few minutes later, a great horned owl on his arm.

"What do you need it for?" He asks.

"I want to check if Debbie's awake," I say.

Cassius sighs. "I didn't mean for all that to keep you awake at night, kid." Nevertheless, he hands me a piece of parchment and a quill.

"It won't," I answer truthfully, quickly scribbling a few words down on the parchment and rolling it up. The owl takes it dutifully in its beak and takes off out of the open window. Cassius' furrowed brows are the first thing I see when I look back up. "I just need to talk things through with someone."

"Just make sure she doesn't tell Martha." His tone is grave.

I huff, well aware of Debbie's abilities to keep secrets. "Maybe I just won't mention that part."

He smiles.

Debbie's answer comes a mere fifteen minutes later with only five words written on it: I'll come pick you up.

"Let your mother know where you are." Cassius points his finger at me, but it isn't necessary. I have no intention of letting her worry any longer. I quickly scribble a few words on the back of the parchment, letting her know I will be safely at Debbie's. I hope she won't have any opposition to this. I'll be safe in a house with magical law enforcement after all.

The crack of Debbie's apparition sounds the moment the owl leaves Cassius' kitchen for the second time that night. She walks right into the house and through to us without a knock, but Cassius doesn't seem to mind. He chuckles at her with a wave. "Everything alright?" He asks.

"Better now," she says with a furtive look at me. "Didn't I tell you to let me know right away if you're okay? I was worried sick, I thought you'd-" She interrupts herself.

I frown at the sudden ambush, but Cassius reassures her before I can even open my mouth. "That's on me," he says. "I distracted her, thought it might be better to get her mind off of things."

"Why?" Debbie flares up again. "Did something happen?"

I shake my head. "No. I just needed to not think about it for a change," I say, raising my empty glass a little for emphasis.

"But you're fine?"

"I'm fine," I say with a small smile. "Not a werewolf."

"Which means she's safe for you to take home," Cassius interjects.

"I told mom I'd be staying at yours."

Debbie's eyebrows instantly shoot up in relief. "Oh yes, please do," she says, throwing her head back. "I haven't seen you in ages and these guys are doing my head in already."

I can't suppress a grin. I would be lying if I said the memory of a certain Swede hasn't played into my decision of asking her to stay the night. And now the thought of him doing Debbie's head in rather than her being smitten with him sooths my little bubble of jealousy just the slightest.

I take Debbie's arm and she disapparates out of the swamps and onto Prytania Street. We land in the shadows of a long driveway between two duplex houses. I follow her around the pastel blue one to our left and she opens the right door, leading me into their front room.

"That driveway's our safest apparition point," she says to me. "It's muggle protected, Austin made sure of that. You can't apparate into or out of the house, though."

I nod in acknowledgement and look around her living room. It has an open plan kitchen at the back, the furniture is miss-matched and there's an unusual amount of muggle technology around. There is a radio on the kitchen counter, a TV in the corner of the living room and a phone on the wall.

"I have tea or firewhisky, those are literally your only two options." Debbie rushes straight through into the kitchen.

"I'll have the tea, thanks," I say. Cassius' glass of firewhisky still rumbles in my stomach.

"Chamomile okay?" Debbie starts rummaging through cupboards. "Cas is a huge tea drinker, but I'm not sure how much of it I'm allowed to take."

"Cas?"

"Casper? You've met him. You know-" She waves her hand parallel to the ground way above her head and I huff at her.

"I'll take chamomile," I say, letting myself sink into an old leather sofa in front of the window. "How long has he been living here?"

"Cas moved in two weeks before me," she says as she puts the kettle on. "Austin's been living here since he left Hawthorne and all through his training. He's just had different roommates every year."

"Where are they now?"

"Sleeping, I guess." She plops down on the couch next to me, waiting for the water to boil. "Although I'm not sure about Austin. He's got a bit of a weird schedule." She frowns up at the ceiling.

I swallow, pausing for a moment. "He hasn't heard anything new from…" I trail off.

Debbie shakes her head no. "I don't think so. I keep on asking him, but he says it's pretty quiet for now. But he thinks that might not be a good sign, like the quiet before the storm."

"Anything the Owl Times isn't telling us?" I ask.

Debbie shakes her head again. "No. They're more transparent than the British media, there's only the Quibbler over there that seems somewhat reliable. I got a subscription, hold on." She gets back up off the sofa and makes for the stairs.

"You can get it delivered here?"

She doesn't respond, but stomps up the stairs instead, returning a minute or so later. She hands me a brightly colored magazine, a huge caricature of Voldemort on the front cover.

"I'm getting them through the postal service. They have people with international apparition permits that can apparate your post from Britain to a local post office. Austin told me about it, I had no idea that was an option, or I would've sent you more letters last year. Anyway, the Daily Prophet is rubbish, nothing but ministry propaganda, but this one's pretty accurate. I think the Owl Post might actually be using it as a source."

I flick through the pages; it opens onto a 13-page spread about the Death Eaters who broke out of Azkaban last week. "And it's reliable?" I raise my eyebrows.

"If you ignore the part about the Rotfang Conspiracy and Dabberblimps it's actually quite an interesting read."

"The what now?" I snort until my eyes land on a particular page. A mugshot of a silvery blond wizard in a straitjacket takes up most of the top left corner. His name doesn't need to be written next to it for me to know exactly who this is. I've looked into eyes of the exact same shade of grey almost daily during my last month at Hogwarts. The resemblance between father and son is striking, only the small crow's feet in the corners of his eyes and his scruff make it clear this isn't Draco. "Can I keep this?"

"Sure. You can have all of them if you want."

I nod. "Let me know if you notice anything weird in them." I close the magazine up over Lucius Malfoy's dirty face and hesitate a moment before I pull the gold galleon out of my back pocket. I hand it to Debbie silently.

She frowns and stares down at it without saying a word until, finally, she glances up at me, a look of great concern on her face. "I take it this isn't Hermione?"

I shake my head no.

"Don't respond," comes her immediate answer.

I had a feeling that would be her advice. I sigh and shrug. "I don't think I will."

"No. Don't." She hands the galleon back to me. "I told you before, I think it's better if you throw that galleon away."

I turn it over in my hand a few times before shaking my head again. "I can't," I say. "You never know, I might need it."

"In what circumstance would you need to get in touch with him?!" Debbie's voice flares up and I raise my hands in defense.

"I can't think of one, but I don't want to cut off any links that might bring me information in the future."

Debbie raises an eyebrow. "Do you want to talk him?" She asks.

I sigh. "No."

"Then throw it away," she says sternly before I can elaborate.

"But," I continue. "That doesn't mean I won't want or need to in the future."

She purses her lips. "Be careful. Especially with what you say."

"He already knows where I am," I say firmly. "He's seen Salem, it wouldn't be that hard for him to find me if he wanted to, but he hasn't tried yet, has he? And if he'd told anyone where or who I was, they'd already be standing on Fox's doorstep. But don't worry, if I do end up ever responding I won't say anything that might put anyone in danger. For now, I just want the option to communicate if I ever need to."

"Jay, I really don't think this is-"

But she cuts herself off. Both our heads turn towards the staircase, there are footsteps coming from above and sure enough, after a short moment a pair of bare feet sticking out of tartan pajama bottoms tip-tap down the steps. For a moment I have hope, but the man who appears is a little shorter and scruffier. He has long, messy brown hair and a matching beard with a twirled moustache. His eyes look kind and strangely young in comparison to his facial hairstyle. He is wearing an open robe and no pajama top, baring his chest and belly.

"Thought I heard your lovely voice," he says in an upbeat tone and Debbie looks like she could growl at him.

"Jay, Austin. Austin, Jay," she says without looking at either of us.

"We're not howling at the moon then?" The grin on his face goes all the way up to his eyes. My jaw tightens of its own accord. "Sorry, bad joke," he says immediately.

"Why are you up?" Debbie demands.

"I'm on early morning." Austin walks past our sofa and into the kitchen. "Gotta go in an hour!"

"Good," Debbie mumbles, and then a little louder, "We'll leave you be. It's been a long evening."

"Oh don't mind me." Austin turns around, leaning against the kitchen counter. "I didn't mean to interrupt."

"It's fine, it's late." Debbie brusquely gets up and stalks up the stairs.

I hesitate a moment instead of following her. Austin still stands, arms crossed over his chest, looking at me with mild curiosity.

I suck in a quick breath. I want to double-check. "You haven't heard anything…"

His face immediately breaks into a kind smile, but he shakes his head. "Officially, nothing new," he says, his voice neutral. And then he stands upright and takes a small step towards me. "I haven't told Debbie this, but I've been in touch with an ex-auror in the UK. Mad-Eye Moody, ever heard of him?" I shake my head. "He's infamous, bit of a head case if you ask me. He works for the resistance there, they're planning on moving your brother to a safe house."

"The Order of the Phoenix?" I ask hopeful.

"That's the one," he nods.

"Do you know when?"

"He wouldn't say, he's too scared of messages getting intercepted. With good reason to be honest, but they'll be doing it soon. Couple of weeks from now, probably."

"Okay," I say feebly. "Thanks."

"No problem," he says softly.

I follow Debbie up the stairs. I don't know which one her room is, but there is only one with the lights on inside. It's small, just about big enough for a small double bed, a wardrobe and a desk. She's laid out a t-shirt for me to sleep in and I slip out of my clothes quietly, sliding under the covers next to her.

"Good thing he's working to be honest," Debbie says grimly. "He snores like a pig."

I chuckle a little, but don't comment any further. I'll find out sooner or later what her issues are with Austin and Casper, but Austin at least doesn't seem as bad as she seems to find him. I fall asleep quickly, despite my thoughts chasing each other through my brain and I sleep late into the next morning. I dream vividly, yet peacefully. No swamps, no alligators, no minty blondes and no werewolves.

Debbie isn't lying next to me when I wake the next morning. The drawn curtains keep her room in the dark, but the digital alarm clock on her nightstand shines a bright green 11.23 in my face. I groan. I know my mother might kill me if I'm not home any time soon, but I interpret the lack of an angry owl as a sign she at least isn't worried I'm dead yet.

I roll myself out of bed and tiptoe back down the stairs. A second later I am painfully aware I haven't bothered to change back into my clothes when I find a sleek, black-haired head sitting on the sofa rather than Debbie's frizzy curls. He has his back turned to me, so I take my chances and turn back around, hoping he won't notice.

"Morning." I stop in my tracks. "If you can still call it that," his voice sounds reprimanding and he looks at the leather strapped watch on his arm for emphasis.

"Morning," I say flatly.

His head whips around to me. "Oh, it's you," he says, a little more friendly. "How was your night?"

"Uneventful."

A smile flickers across his face and I keep a firm grip on the bottom hem of my shirt, pulling it down as far as I can, but he keeps his eyes politely on my face.

"Good."

"Where's Debbie?"

"Probably in the shower." He turns back around to the book he was reading.

I nod but, again, don't quite trust my voice to be steady enough to respond. I turn around and start walking back up the stairs.

"Do you want any breakfast?" His voice is neutral. If he's noticed my unease, he doesn't let it show.

"I'm fine, thanks." I walk up two more steps but stop in my tracks again. "Where's the bathroom?"

"Up the stairs, first door on your left."

I walk through that door without knocking. The shower is running behind the drawn curtain, and I let the door fall shut, sitting down on the closed toilet lid. Debbie's head peaks out, eyes wide.

"Tituba, don't scare me like that!" Her head vanishes again.

"Leave me a note next time," I don't intend to sound as reprehensive as I do.

"Why?" Her voice comes back confused from behind the white shower curtain.

"Because I just walked downstairs in nothing but this t-shirt."

I knew she would laugh. I can't pretend I'm surprised.

"I'm sorry," she says. "Did he say anything?"

"No," I say grumpily. "But he seemed pretty set on keeping his eyes way above my neck."

She chuckles again. "He's a gentleman."

I frown. "You didn't seem too keen on him yesterday, though."

"Yeah," her voice is short. "That's his problem, he's too much of a gentleman."

"What makes you say that?" I mask my thirst for knowledge as mild curiosity as best I can.

"I asked him out on a date."

My jaw and my stomach clench simultaneously. "And?" I ask when she doesn't elaborate.

"He declined ever so politely," she sounds grim. "He said he didn't like getting involved with people he lives with, something about causing drama."

"Huh." I hide the glee.

The water shuts off and Debbie's hand appears, grabbing her towel off the towel rack on the wall. She pulls the curtain back, staring at me with a look I know doesn't bear anything good for me.

"You like him?" The mischief is obvious in her face.

"No?" I keep my hands clasped together in my lap, trying to sit as innocently as possible on her toilet lid but I know there isn't much of a point. She still knows me too well.

Her eyes narrow. "Liar," she says simply. I don't respond. "Do you want to take a shower?"

I finally look away. "I'll take one at my mom's," I say with a sigh. "Did she get in touch this morning?"

Debbie nods. "I told her you're still asleep though. She said that's fine, you probably needed it."

I huff. "Sure did." I follow her back into her room where we both get dressed, but she doesn't pick the Casper subject back up. She keeps her back to me, and I know she is hiding that same smile that appeared from behind the shower curtain. I choose to ignore it.

I am fully prepared to walk out of the front door without another word to either her or the man in question, but he for one, seems to have a different idea.

"Going home?" He is still sitting on the couch, that same book on his lap he doesn't look up from, and Debbie's eyebrows shoot up immediately.

"Yes," I say apprehensively, standing stock still, exchanging a quizzical look with her.

"I could drive you if you'd like," his voice is matter of fact.

Debbie's eyes narrow and her grin deepens. I close my eyes, trying not roll them at her. His eyes still firmly on the pages of his book, he thankfully doesn't notice our quick exchange.

"It's okay, you don't need to-" Debbie's elbow hits me sharply in the ribs and my jump causes him to finally look up.

"It's no trouble really," his eyebrows are slightly raised as he looks at me.

I stare back in return, hell-bent on ignoring Debbie's intensive glare. "Well, if you don't mind…" I keep on ignoring Debbie as she mouths something at me.

"Absolutely not." He claps his book shut and gets up, walks over to a little shelf on the wall next to the front door and grabs a set of keys. He proceeds to open the door and holds it there, looking at me expectantly.

"See you around," I say curtly to Debbie, who can't help but wink.

I roll my eyes with my back to the both of them, but I can't really ignore the soothing sense of childlike joy that has spread all the way down into my toes.

"The car's further down the road," he says, ushering me down the two front steps.

"You have plenty of parking in the driveway," I say skeptically.

"Yes, but that's a little risky. I wouldn't want Deborah accidentally apparating onto my windshield," his voice sounds so serious, I don't dare laugh.

He sets off down the pavement and I follow closely at his side. His height becomes more apparent to me than it had the first time we met. He is standing to my right and I realize the top of my head doesn't even reach his shoulder. He blocks most of my view on my right, and I suddenly realize what is bothering me so much. I quickly take a step around him and position myself on his right. He stops walking for a moment and I turn my head to be able to see his face.

"Just-" I gesticulate around my face. "Be my left eye, would you?" I continue walking without waiting for a response. It never bothered me before, but now I realize I've only ever been outside in the world and not in a safe space with Debbie so far, and she always walks on my left out of habit. I feel better having a friend on my left and keeping an eye on my right by myself. Casper doesn't comment until we sit in his old, red Toyota Land Cruiser.

"I don't mean to prey," he starts.

"Yes?" I ask when he doesn't continue right away.

"Is your left eye completely blind?"

"Oh, that," I say, releasing the tension in my shoulders. "Yes, it is. There's nothing that can be done with werewolf venom apparently."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"Don't be," I say quietly. "It could've been way worse."

"But it wasn't. Thankfully," he adds. "But that doesn't mean you don't have a right to complain."

I turn my head towards him, my brows furrowed, but he has a small smile on his face. "I'm not complaining," I say.

"I know." He responds, eyes on the road as he pulls out of his parking spot. "Let me know if you ever want to, or if there's anything I can do to help."

I pause for a moment before answering with a small smirk. "Just carry on being my left eye."

It's a relatively short drive to my mother's house. Casper has never been there, and my mother hasn't given him its whereabouts, so the best he can do is follow my instructions and watch me disappear between two houses, making sure I am safely hidden under the Fidelius charm.

My mother ambushes me the second I walk through the front door, her hands raised as if to grab me.

"Are you alright?" Is her first question.

"I'm okay," I say, half a smile still etched on my face.

"How did you get home?" Is her second.

"Casper drove me."

Her face breaks out into a smile, but I have the slightest impression she is hiding second thoughts behind it. "Well, isn't he a gentleman."

"I need a shower," I say, diverting the subject. "I'm all sticky."

"Up you go. I got a couple things together to show you, but no rush."

I frown at her for a moment, confused as to what she could mean before it dawns on me again. I nod. "I'll be down in five," I say, running up the stairs into my room. I drop my wand onto my desk along with last week's edition of the Quibbler Debbie gave me and pull the two gold coins out of the back pocket of my shorts. I grab the one with the dented edge and wave my wand over it.

All okay, no werewolf.

My words replace the short message from Hermione I missed early in the morning, and I drop it next to the second coin. I turn the latter over, facing the emblem of Gringotts Bank up to the ceiling rather than the message I've decided to ignore.