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That Which Does Not Kill Us
Chapter 2
By Anne B. Walsh
Meghan insisted on sitting in the same big chair as Draco, her legs curled under her and his arm around her shoulders. Said arm went numb after a while, but Draco shifted to get the blood flowing through it again without removing it. She's all I have right now. I'm not about to let her go.
He smiled to himself. Wonder if that makes her the Pearl of great price…
"So it's all true, then," Neville said from across the room where he was sitting cross-legged on his bed. "Everything you said."
Meghan bridled at this. "Of course it's true! Did you think I'd lie?"
"No. But people can make mistakes. Get confused."
"You didn't think I was confused. You thought I was crazy." Meghan hissed between her teeth. "Well, I'm not."
"I didn't know what to think," Neville said in his calming tone, and Draco felt Meghan relaxing against him at the sound. "You were saying things that did sound crazy. But you were real. And you knew things and showed me things that would have been very hard to fake."
"You mean like that one place on your—"
"Yes, like that," Neville interrupted hastily, going the same red as the Gryffindor pennant hanging above the bed.
Draco flicked Meghan on the shoulder, and she punched him back. "So now there is more proof that I'm telling the truth," she said. "If we could find Dadfoot or Danger, they know it too."
"They must have been stopped from telling somehow," Draco said. "That's how it was set up. The only people who know the truth either can't say it or won't be believed. You and I are the second category—you because you're not supposed to exist, and me because I'm…"
"A mama's boy Slytherin without the guts to stick to either side," Neville finished. "Supposedly."
"Thank you. So that leaves them not being able to speak for some reason. I think I can guess what happened to Padfoot, it could even be something that would happen by accident or by a nasty spell, but Danger's different. Even if she couldn't speak aloud…" Draco stopped, seeing Meghan's stricken eyes. "You know," he said. "Tell me."
"I can't," Meghan whispered. "I don't want to say it…"
"Then don't." Draco reached into his robes and drew out a fine gold chain. Four small medallions dangled from it. Meghan's eyes followed it hungrily as it grew in response to Draco's tug, and a little shudder ran through her body as he tossed it over her head as well as his own.
"I have a firecall I need to make," Neville said, standing up. "Send a Patronus if you need me."
Draco nodded, then closed his eyes and laid his head against the back of the chair. You can tell me here, he murmured silently to Meghan. It doesn't count as saying it if you just think it to me.
And how does your garden grow, Mistress Mary? Draco dodged her half-hearted swipe and kissed her hand on the backswing, then put his seriousness into his tone. Pearl, I need to know this or we don't have as good a chance of fixing things. Of getting back our Pack, our Pride, our lives. Please. Tell me.
If you really want to know. But… Another shudder, and she burrowed close to him. You won't like it.
I haven't liked anything since I woke up with whatever-he-is that calls himself Luq looming over me and telling me how he'd destroyed my world, little sister. This won't be too different.
Three minutes later, he wasn't.
"And you really think it's true," the person on the other end of the firecall said for the third time.
"Yes." Neville wasn't tired of repeating himself. One more time and he might be, he thought, but this was important enough that he didn't plan to get tired quickly.
"Do they know where…" The end of the sentence was unnecessary. It had been the only thought on the speaker's mind for months.
"I think Malfoy—Black—does. Meghan doesn't, but I think that's because this Luq knew she might come to me, so he only told her specifics about people she couldn't possibly get to." Neville weighed his options and decided candor was the better part of discretion. "If what's happened is equally nasty all over, you won't like it."
A low laugh. "I already don't like it. I doubt I could like it less. But I'm sure I'm wrong. All right. I'm with you. Flame off and I'll come through right away."
"Right. See you in a moment." Neville pulled his head out of the fire and looked around at the sound of feet. Draco and Meghan had just come into the kitchen. Both were wearing murderous looks. He didn't blame them. The story Meghan had told him had him ready to train rosevines around Luq and leave them there, and it wasn't even his own parents involved.
My own parents. My Mum and Dad. If Meghan's telling the truth… if the world she told me about is real… maybe, just maybe…
He slid that hope back into the cubbyhole where it had lived for so long. If Meghan was right, he wouldn't need hope anymore. He'd have reality. And if she was wrong…
Hope's not so bad. Better than a lot of things.
The fire flared up green, and a figure only a bit bigger than Meghan shot out of it. Golden freckles and white teeth gleamed in the firelight.
"So," said Ginny Weasley, flicking a casual Cleaning Charm over herself. "How do we get to Harry?"
"So that's the best plan I can think of," Draco said, letting the scroll he'd been holding roll back up on itself. "It's completely insane and it will never work, but everything else I could imagine had even less chance."
"If this is sanity, insanity sounds better and better," Ginny said bluntly. "I've known there was something wrong for months. No one would listen. Not even Mum…"
"She's under a Memory Charm," said Meghan. "But Memory Charms can be broken."
"Mine was never very good to begin with," Ginny said, making a face.
"That was probably deliberate," said Neville. "To hurt you more."
Ginny bared her teeth. "Well, guess what? I'm about to hurt back. Hard." She stretched out a hand for the scroll. "Let's go over this one more time."
The plan had the dubious virtue of simplicity. They would sneak into St. Mungo's under cover of darkness and Disillusionment, then break into two groups. Neville and Ginny would go for the room where all the magical shields on the "dangerous prisoners" wards were controlled, and Draco and Meghan would head upstairs to wait until said shields went down. Then inside, find Harry, break him loose of whatever had been placed on him personally, and run for it.
"At least we know the shields are controlled from somewhere central," Neville said in a tone of make-the-best-of-the-ridiculously-bad-situation. "We won't waste time trying to take them down at the door."
"No, we can waste time inside the ward." Draco ran a hand through his hair, completely disarranging it and, judging by the looks on Ginny's and Neville's faces, adding another point to the I-don't-know-who-he-is-but-he-can't-be-who-he-looks-like column. "Look, I care as much about Harry as anyone here, I know this was my idea to begin with, but it really isn't going to work. All we'll do is get ourselves caught too, and there goes our best chance. Maybe we should try to find the adults first—they'll be able to help us…"
"But they're killing her," Meghan said, her voice barely audible.
"What?" said three people at once.
Meghan blinked at Draco. "Didn't you know?"
"I don't even know who you're talking about."
Meghan's hands went to her mouth. "Oh. Oh. Draco, I'm sorry, I thought you knew, I would have told you a lot sooner if I knew you didn't know…"
Something came loose around the bottom of Draco's stomach. "Luna?" he said, his voice coming out as a harsh whisper.
A chill calm filled Draco, sharpening his vision and hearing until the room glittered and hummed around him. He could feel the quiet strength of his muscles and his magic, lurking beneath a surface serene as a snowdrift. This state would have its price later, but just now it was beyond gold or silver, for it would let him hear what Meghan had to say without an immediate reaction.
Meghan licked her lips, trembling. Ginny put out a hand, and Meghan's found it. "They want her to See for them," the littler girl whispered. "But she won't. She didn't believe it when they lied to her, because she could See the truth. So now they're trying other ways. To make her do what they want. And they're getting angrier and angrier because she won't. They have to keep Harry alive, because without him Voldemort will die, but they don't need Luna…"
Draco nodded, slowly. "Tonight, then," he said.
"Yes." Ginny put her hand into the center of the table. "Tonight."
"Tonight," Neville echoed, laying his hand on top of Ginny's.
"Tonight," whispered Meghan, adding her own hand.
Draco placed his hand on top without a word. The pact had already been sworn.
Just a little longer. Just wait a little longer. An hour, two, three. We're coming, brother. I'm coming, my love.
Crazy plans are perhaps a bit less crazy when one has special skills.
Halfway up a wall in the lobby of St. Mungo's, Neville—Captain, Meghan said I was called like this, and in case I was still wondering if she's right or not I think this clinches it—waited for his cue.
A hideous shriek rang out from the entrance. There it is.
Ginny half-leapt, half-fell into the open space below him, writhing between her human and lynx forms, screaming as though the transformations were as painful as they looked. Patients craned their necks, Healers came rushing over, and no one had eyes to spare for a patch of air which slid down the wall and unfolded into an inconspicuous teenager.
Second door on the right and straight on till morning. Neville grinned to himself, sliding through the door and tapping his wand against it. If anyone followed him through, they would be amazed how squeaky the hinges were for such a well-used door.
Now to take down all the spells on the secret wards on the fourth and a half floor…
(Of course there's two Healers on duty at the door,) Meghan signed to Draco, rolling her eyes for emphasis. (We can't get it easy.)
(We have it easy enough,) Draco signed back, glancing over his shoulder at the door to the hall from the room where they crouched in wait. (There's two of us. If we get them at the same time, they won't have a chance to alert anyone.)
(Yes, but if we're even a tiny bit off…) Meghan drew a finger across her throat. (And I think the witch saw us already. This isn't going to work, I know it isn't…)
(Settle down.) Draco placed a hand on Meghan's head and pressed gently. Meghan eyed it balefully but refrained from doing anything else.
(Neville obviously got all the spells down,) Draco went on when he had both hands free again. (Otherwise we'd have been found out already. And that Healer can't have seen us, or she'd have said something. All we have to do is Stun them at exactly the same time, and—)
The small noises from the hall, and the sounds of a city night floating in the open window, ceased suddenly. Meghan's tiny squeak of dismay was perfectly audible.
Zoned Silencer. Draco lowered his hands slowly, trying not to let his anger and terror show. They got us. It's over.
Meghan hid her face in his shoulder, and he put an arm around her. "Love you," he whispered to her. "Don't ever forget it."
"Really, now," chided a female voice from behind them. "Not even setting a sentry? I thought we taught you better than that."
Draco's throat closed as the timbre of the voice caught at his memories. It can't be…
"And I also thought we taught you to recognize your allies when you see them," the voice went on, half-teasing, half-wistful. "But that requires looking at me."
Meghan lifted her head, blinked once or twice, and looked. An instant later, Draco understood the real reason for the Silencer.