Be Careful
41: What You Pretend
By Anne B. Walsh
Luna roused to Hagrid's hand on her shoulder, shaking her gently. "I'm awake," she whispered. "And I've had such a lovely dream."
"Have yeh, now?" Hagrid took her arm to help her get to her feet. Hastily, Luna wiggled her shoulder, sliding away the weight she could feel on it, just in time as Hagrid lifted and she rose into the air. "What abou’?"
"It was a world full of music and laughter, where people are a little kinder to one another," Luna said, a bit louder than a whisper, and slid a foot back until it encountered the soft mass she was expecting. "But I think a Somnius was dreaming it with me. They're small and grey and furry, when you can see them—they can turn invisible when it suits them—and they make people's dreams stronger, because they like to nibble the bits off the edges that you're not using. They're not dangerous, but if one comes to sleep with you, you have to send it away before morning or you'll never be able to forget the dream you had with it, and you'll always be trying to find that dream again, even in your waking life."
"I wouldn’ say tryin’ ter find a world where people're kinder was such a bad thing," said Hagrid, patting Luna's back gently enough that she only stumbled forward two paces. "I've made yeh a spot o’ tea, and there's a cake left fer yeh an’ yer little mongoose friend—say, where'd he go?"
"I was just telling you. I think he may have been a Somnius in disguise." Luna sat down by the campfire, which by now was mostly red-glowing coals. "I hope he knows that he has to go away before morning. It isn't because I didn't like him, or because I don't want him here, but because it would be bad for both of us if he stayed. He can come back sometime—I rather hope he does—but for now, he should go."
"If yeh say so," Hagrid said, shaking his head over the fantasies of Luna Lovegood. "Here's yer tea—drink it while it's hot, now, there's an hour yet till dawn an’ it's a chilly night…"
Behind them, Disillusioned and curled up in a sleeping bag of his own, Draco held his breath.
Is she talking to—me?
No. She's just being her usual mad self. She slept through the whole day in the otherworld, there's no way she could know what it's like, and there's no way she could know the mongoose was me, or that I was still with her now.
But whether or not she's talking to me, she's right. I need to get back inside before morning, and come up with a good story about why I wasn't in bed last night…
He grinned, easing himself out of the sleeping bag. I don't think that will be too hard. It won't have smelled very good in there, and we can't exactly open a window. I can say I went to find somewhere I could breathe; even Snape should believe me, if he got a whiff of what they were letting off.
On his feet, sleeping bag over his arm, Draco stepped cautiously out of the campsite, turning as he crossed the border for one last look. Luna's slender figure was silhouetted against the dim firelight, and Hagrid's homely features emerged from the darkness like those of a kindly pagan god on the other side of the firepit. Weasley murmured something in her sleep, and the quiet squeaking of Longbottom's snores hitched for a moment, then resumed.
Remind me again how I got elected their protector? They don't even like me…
But he knew how it had happened. He had discovered what it felt like to be the victim rather than the bully, and immediately thereafter been offered a third way. Without ever thinking about it, he had assumed that the world consisted of only those two choices, so the possibility of being neither had shaken his entire belief system, which had already been tottering with the destruction of his carefully crafted "prince of the magical world" image.
And from there, it was only a short step to secretly guarding people I used to humiliate, and plotting to help the ones I spent years trying to bring down…
Careful not to step on twigs, Draco slipped away towards the castle.
Let's get one thing straight, though. I'm in this for what I want, what I can get out of it, namely, a one-way ticket to Mum's world. I'm not being altruistic, I'm not being generous, I'm not even being particularly nice. In fact, I've been nasty to these people, and I'm enjoying it, and I'm going to enjoy the eighteenth of October even more.
He yawned, covering his mouth with one hand.
If only I could remember why it matters that the cup's in Aunt Bella's vault, what it has to do with that day and my temporarily kidnapping Weasley…
The connection had been perfectly clear to him for a few moments in the other Forest. He had caught on to what Abby had been getting at with her cryptic words, her hints and half-instructions.
And now I've caught off, if there is such a thing. I have no idea what the cup has to do with it.
But I remember that I did know, and I trust Abby. Besides, my part of the plan's simple enough. The cup will come up when it comes up, and I'll just have to play it by ear when it does.
Playing by ear segued naturally into thoughts of music, and Draco began to hum as he sighted Hogwarts through the trees. His song of choice came from the same musical show as "It's a Dangerous Game", but spoke instead of finding the one special person who would change a life. Its singer thought that she had perhaps found that one for herself, but balked at saying it in so many words, so instead she hedged, hoping that "someone like you" would someday discover "someone like me".
Funny to think it's Ray's Luna who taught me this song. She does have "someone like me", someone like I could have been if I'd grown up in a world like his. And I have…
Draco grabbed that thought, trampled it flat, and kicked mental underbrush over it. None of that, now. You're going away forever as soon as the Dark Lord gets offed, remember? There'll be a whole world full of girls for you to explore. You are not allowed to get attached to one over here. Not allowed, full stop, end of story, no more to be said.
Novice though he was in the ways of the heart, Draco suspected it might not be this easy.
All right, treat it like Occlumency. You can't clear your mind by willing yourself not to think about certain things. You have to have something to think about. What's safe to think about? Safe and interesting enough to keep me on it for a while?
A rambling thought of Abby's, one that the little Gryffindor had shared with him after dinner on the previous day, came to mind. Draco set his "busy brain" to the task of sneaking back into the castle without being caught and let the back of his mind wander away into memory, until he could have sworn he felt Abby's fine curly hair against his arm and heard her sweet treble tones.
"I'm going to make a pretend," Abby announced with all the solemnity of a girl declaring she was engaged.
"All right," Draco said slowly, unsure of his cue. "Do you want my help?"
"A little bit, yes. Was your Dark Lord around when you were born?"
"Yes, he was. He didn't go away until I was about a year and a half old."
Abby nodded, one hand against her cheek. "Your birthday is before Ray and Neenie's, isn't it?"
"Yes, by almost two months." The night I found out that I wasn't who I'd always thought I was, was also the night I officially came of age—how ironic is that? "It's the fifth of June."
"And you look like your blood father?"
Draco grimaced. "Don't remind me."
"I'm sorry. I need it for the pretend." Abby drummed her fingers against the arm of the little couch they were sharing, humming a monotonous tune. "I think it's ready," she said after a few moments. "Do you want to hear it?"
"What is it about?"
"You."
"In that case, always." Draco assumed a pose of great attentiveness.
Abby giggled. "You're so silly. All right. This is a pretend like Frederic, in Pirates. He had to be a pirate, to steal and sink ships and do wrong, even though his heart wanted to go back to the world where he was born, where everything was good and right. Pirates is a silly way to tell that story, but your story is one that isn't so silly."
"Oh, really?"
Abby tapped a finger admonishingly against Draco's lips. "Don't interrupt. It's rude."
Draco pressed the fingertips of both hands against his mouth, symbolically sealing it.
"Good." Abby began untangling her perpetually snarled hair with her fingers. "You see, you never really belonged to the people you look like. You were really Aunt Cecy's baby, hers and…" She glanced downwards. "You-Know-Who."
Draco burst out laughing, causing Abby to draw herself up indignantly. "If you think it's that funny, I don't see why I should tell you any more," she huffed. "You do know who I mean, and if that means something else where you come from, I forgot about it!"
"I'm sorry," Draco said, getting himself under control. "I didn't mean to laugh at you. It was just the idea…" A snicker escaped him as he realized that, in this world, "You-Know-Who" was indeed a father. A grandfather, even.
But he's not at all the same as the Dark Lord, counterparts or no. They're even more different than Ray and I are.
"Sorry," he said again. "Please go on."
Abby eyed him dubiously, but continued. "You're the reason they both look so sad all the time. Because they got married in secret, to try it out, and decided that they would tell everyone about it when you were born. But the very same day you were born, you disappeared—poof!—and both of them were so upset that they forgot their manners and blamed the other one for it, and that's why they stopped living like married people."
Draco pieced this together and shrugged. It made at least nominal sense. "So why do I look like the people who raised me, then?" he asked, playing along.
"Because the same one who stole you—the Dark Lord—used his Dark magic to change the way you looked. He might even have used the bad kind of blood magic, the kind that would take away all your blood from Aunt Cecy and…" Abby glanced quellingly at him. "The other person."
"But if all my blood from her was gone, then we'd never be able to tell I was really hers," Draco said. "I should have turned out like the family who brought me up."
Abby shook her head. "They could change your blood," she said. "They couldn't change your soul. Your soul was a soul from this world, and it wanted the things we have here. Music, and laughing, and light, and love. And when you got to be a grownup, just like Frederic, you went back to where you came from." She giggled. "You made a bit of a mess of it, like he did. And the people who stole you, just like the pirates, are trying to get you to come back and stay longer… I added up once, and if Frederic had really stayed until his twenty-first birthday, he would have been eighty-four years old. That's a long, long time."
"Yes, it is. And I certainly don't intend to hang around that world for any eighty-four years." Draco planted a hand in the center of Abby's chest. "Not when there are little sisters in this one, ripe for the tickling!"
Abby shrieked and squirmed, but Draco knew no mercy. None, that is, until she managed to writhe out from under his hand, pounce onto his chest, and turn the tables…
We wore ourselves out laughing, and then I walked her up to bed. I'm not surprised she was Sorted into Gryffindor—she runs straight at life, never stops for a second to think about which way she's going or what might be wiser to do…
Draco sat down on his own bed and wrinkled his nose at the stale odor in the air. A quick Freshening Spell cleared it out, and he hit the interior of his wardrobe with a Cleaning Charm before grabbing a set of robes to take to the showers.
It's really for her I'm fighting. For her, for little Dragon, for Mum—especially for Mum—Moony and Danger, Ray and Neenie, Harry and Ginny and Ron, Neville and Meghan…
And Luna.
She always seems so happy with Ray, but the way she was eyeing me yesterday, I didn't quite know what to think…
Firmly, Draco pushed this out of his mind. He had a mission to accomplish in less than a month, and anything which wasn't directly related to that had to go.
I may not see quite how, but it's my best shot at getting the cup. Plus, I raise myself in the Dark Lord's esteem, lower Lucius in same, and free a prisoner who'd never have a chance on his own.
And just to put the icing on the fairy cake, I get to cast the Imperius Curse on Ron Weasley.
Yes, I'd say this is going to be quite a lot of fun.