She whispered

by Lucas Chesterton

  Suddenly, he felt distinctly ashamed. Dumbledore had sometimes accused him of egotism, of seeing and serving only himself. The old man had been right. From the moment he’d met her, he’d claimed Elena for himself, using magic and teaching as an excuse to make her his creature, much as he’d done with Lily. And just like, in his younger years, he had never cared much about what Lily wanted, what Lily hoped and dreamed of (because he’d been to full of what he wanted, hoped and dreamed of, and most of all with impressing her somehow), he was willing Elena to want what he wanted, to participate in his world, to be available to him.

  Jack caught himself wondering whether this was the reason why Elena did what she did. Going into that Academy all by herself, although the potential for danger was certainly there and her magical powers shaky. Was she trying to impress him? Was she trying to make him see her?

  ‘Jack? Are you still with us?’

  Narcissa’s blue eyes sparkled as she gave him an amused smile. Draco, too, looked curious. Obviously, Daysen had missed a few beats.

  ‘It’s alright’, he murmured, slurring a little. ‘I was just thinking that we mustn’t impose on your hospitality any longer ���’

  ‘Oh, but you’re not going home tonight, are you?’

  ‘It’s quite late, Narcissa, we have to ���’

  ‘Jack Daysen, there’s no way I’m letting you ride a broom in your present state! And certainly not with your lovely friend here, all kinds of things might happen ���’

  ‘Ah, I’m certain we’ll be perfectly safe ���’

  ‘No, I’d never forgive myself! Plus, I’ve told the house-elves half an hour ago to prepare a guestroom. You’ll stay here, and tomorrow we’ll have breakfast together.’

  ‘Do her the favour, please’, murmured Draco out of the corner of his mouth. ‘She can’t bear being alone ���’

  ‘Draco!’

  ‘You’re being very kind, Madam Malfoy’, Elena ventured sweetly, ‘but ���’

  ‘Thank you, dear!’ Narcissa broke in energetically, taking Elena’s arm once more. ‘At least one of you is sensible! And you’ll see, I had our best bedroom prepared, it’s all in Tudor style and I’m sure you’ll love it.’

  Elena’s eyes widened a little. She looked shyly back and forth between her hostess and Daysen. Jack followed the exchange with distant interest, but it was as if he wasn’t quite there, as if he was experiencing a dream that he could not influence and didn’t really want to wake up from. He followed the two women as if in a daze, out of the salon, up the stairs, and felt like walking the planks of a rolling ship. Draco’s ‘Good night’, rendered with a grin, he noted only at the periphery of his mind and replied with a distracted nod.

  A short while later, he found himself on the gallery where Narcissa opened a door and gestured for them to enter. The room was lavishly furnished in polished dark wood, thick carpets and tapestries in rich colours. A four-poster bed dominated the room, the cover folded back, looking inviting. Jack noted that this was very clearly a double room; however, he wasn’t capable of more than aloof amusement and certainly not in the mood to object.

  Narcissa’s eyes were dancing again almost fiendishly as she explained where her guests would find everything they needed and then wished them sweet dreams in a suggestive purr. The door closed behind her and they were alone. Elena stood still and watched Daysen. She seemed confused. He chuckled to himself with a little shake of the head, then glided over to the bed and threw himself onto it, not even bothering to take of his shoes, folding his arms behind his head.

  Elena cleared her throat. She was still standing by the door, not sure what to do with herself, watching him apprehensively.

  ‘She seems to think that we ���’, she started, then broke off.

  ‘I’m sure she does’, he said, and again the words came out in a lazy slur. ‘Does it bother you?’

  She stared, then her mouth twitched. ‘No, it doesn’t’, she said pointedly, ‘but I thought it might bother you.’

  ‘No. I’m beyond caring.’ He stretched, yawned.

  Elena continued to watch him for a while, then, slowly, she came over to the other side of the bed. Carefully, she sat down on the edge. Her eyes sought his, and she looked a little suspicious, which Jack noted with amusement. He didn’t blame her, though, since being wary of a drunk wizard in a roguish mood was certainly commendable. At the same time, he wondered what precisely she was thinking, and again it occurred to him that he knew nothing about her, least of all what was going on in her mind. His eyelids were heavy, his body swaying in spite of his supine position, but he couldn’t give in to his urge to rest. Wondering about her was far more intriguing.

  ‘Did you like it?’ he asked a little labouredly to initiate a conversation.

  She smiled tentatively. ‘She’s very kind. Narcissa. It was surely ��� interesting.’

  He chuckled at the diplomatic reply. ‘You seem to be getting on much better with Draco.’

  ‘I do’, she acknowledged. ‘I can see that he’s ��� on his best behaviour.’

  He understood what she was trying to say. People had been nice to her, she was aware of it. Yet, she knew that it was politeness, and that they treated her that way because she was with him. It hadn’t alleviated the feeling that she didn’t belong here and, as a Muggle-born, probably never would. A shadow fell over her face. She looked at the duvet cover, tracing the intricate embroidery with her index finger. The sight of her doing that reminded Jack of how the touch of her fingers felt, on his chest, his neck, his face ���

  He struggled hard for something to say. Couldn’t come up with anything. At the same time, he wanted her to talk to him, but she was lost in thought. He had to pick up the thread again somehow, but looking at her ��� the flushed cheeks, the slightly sad eyes, the plunging neckline that exposed the top of her breasts ��� took up all his attention.

  He heard himself say, ‘You’re looking beautiful.’

  In the next moment, he couldn’t believe he’d just said that. Maybe a figment of his drunk imagination? But no, the way she looked up and smiled at him radiantly was quite unmistakable.

  ‘Is that why you went at the wine so hard, to make yourself tell me this?’ she asked with a friendly twinkle in her eyes.

  ‘Are you doubting my courage?’ he shot back lazily.

  ‘No, I wouldn’t dare’, she said with an evil grin, ‘but I’ve been asking myself why you were so keen on shooting yourself down like that. ��� Is it because of Lucius?’

  ‘Lucius wasn’t there. So why would he bother me?’

  ‘Because he clearly didn’t want to meet you.’

  ‘Lucius is living in his own world. I cannot reach him there.’

  She frowned. ‘Maybe you shouldn’t give up on him so easily. He’s your friend.’

  ‘I’m not giving up. I’m waiting.’

  He then went on to tell her what had bothered him during dinner. Charity Burbage. Elena listened, her face serious.

  ‘It must have been hard for you, making it through the evening’, she remarked quietly when he had finished.

  Jack shook his head. ‘I wanted to come.’

  ‘In spite of what happened here?’

  ‘This has always been a good place for me. Before that ��� incident. I guess I wanted to ���’ he stopped, looking for the right word.

  ‘Reconnect’, she suggested. ‘Annihilate the memory of that ��� other thing.’

  ‘If you will.’

  ‘Surely, you wanted to reunite with Narcissa, as well’, she stated, seemingly lightly, ‘you haven’t seen each other in a long time. And I could see that you two were thick as thieves.’

  Jack noted the edge in her voice only at the last moment, and it made him sit up. He felt a grin on his face. ‘You’re jealous’, he stated, but inwardly wondered whether she had picked up something.

  Elena didn’t deny the jealousy reproach, but lifted her chin. ‘W
hy not? She’s beautiful.’

  ‘She’s my friend’s wife.’

  Her face changed suddenly. ‘I saw him.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Lucius. On the stairs.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘He is ��� he didn’t look too good.’

  ‘I can imagine.’

  ‘No, you don’t understand. I think he’s ��� in a very bad way. Depressed. Not just blue or frustrated, I think it’s ��� serious.’

  He sighed. ‘I understand that the modern Muggle tends to view that kind of self-indulgence as a disease, though it is my belief���’

  Elena interrupted him sharply. ‘And I understand that you wizards tend to dismiss such problems as self-pity, though it is my belief that you all don’t have a clue! Your friend might need help. I told Draco this, but ��� well, I guess he’s just a wizard who can’t get out of his limited world-view!’

  By the end of her little speech, she looked quite angry. He studied her face, marvelling at how many of her thoughts she put into the wellbeing of others. Lily had been like that, ever empathic, and he had mostly dismissed it, unable to understand why she bothered. Again, he thought about his own egotism. In a few slurred words, he assured Elena that he would keep what she had said in mind. It calmed her a little, and once more Jack found himself struggling for words. He needed to keep on talking to her. At the same time, he didn’t want to talk about himself or his world again.

  ‘Your parents’, he started hesitantly, ‘are you going to tell them?’

  The sudden change of subject brought surprise to her face. It was obvious that she hadn’t expected him to care. ‘I’ll have to’, she replied, ‘and soon.’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Yeah. I’m going home for Christmas.’

  He’d been prepared to sink back into the pillows again, but didn’t, suddenly tense. ‘You will? What about the academy?’

  ‘They’re closing for the Christmas holidays. Plus, I haven’t been in Austria for almost a year. There’s no way I can get out of it.’

  He didn’t like it one bit. In fact ��� and quite to his surprise ��� he felt an abyss opening up. ‘For how long?’

  ‘Two to three weeks.’

  Jack stifled a moan. Part of him wanted to berate her, say that she couldn’t just take off with what was going on right now, the Order, the Crowley Academy and what not. The other part, however, saw clearly how he was only thinking about himself again. He swallowed the words that were on the tip of his tongue. ‘How do you think are they going to react?’

  Elena scoffed. ‘My father will hate it. He’ll find a way to turn it around on me, to say that I didn’t resist it enough, that I’ve made myself into a complete freak ���’

  ‘Is he going to hurt you?’ he asked with genuine concern.

  She waved it away. ‘No, not that ���’

  ‘Because you told me once ���’

  ‘That was when I was younger. He stopped beating me when I was around eleven or twelve. After I had learnt controlling it.’

  Jack tried to imagine it. What would it have been like if his parents had both been Muggles and he would have had to suppress his magic even more, without the opportunity of practicing it with his mother’s help? How would his life have been? ‘What about your mother?’ he asked.

  ‘She’ll be alright. She may not admit it, but she knows that magic exists. I think that whatever powers I have come through her family, and in a twisted way she knows that, even if she’ll never admit to it. ��� However, she will feel that she is going to have to side with my father. After all, she has to live with him somehow.’

  ‘So ��� you’re alone in this’, he stated, feeling a distinct pain for her that he could not express in words.

  Elena smiled, made light of it. ‘I’m used to being alone when I’m with them’, she said simply.

  ‘You shouldn’t have to feel like that’, he growled awkwardly.

  ‘You did, too’, she said ruefully. ‘Even worse, from what I know.’

  He thought about it. Had it really been worse? After all, he’d had his mother, no matter how much she’d been caught up in her own problems, no matter how much she’d at times neglected him. She’d still been like him, and in that she’d been his companion.

  ‘I don’t know about that’, he said quietly. ‘You know, looking back I think that the beatings weren’t the worst part. It was the feeling of doing something wrong. Of being wrong.’

  She nodded, knowing exactly what he was talking about. ‘That’s what makes it difficult for me to go there. Right now, I feel fine the way I am, because here it all makes sense. ��� There, in Vienna, it is like I get caught up in old patterns. And it always makes me feel like I’m fourteen again. Like a misfit, having to tread lightly.’ Her eyes were once more on the duvet cover. ‘I don’t want to feel like that anymore.’

  He processed this and felt relief. Here, at last, was the confirmation that her life was better now, made more sense since she had started practicing magic. Again, it took him some moments to find the right thing to say and he worded it carefully. ‘It has helped me ��� sometimes, anyway ��� to take a step out of my situation and view it like an outsider. To remind myself that my parents ��� and maybe yours, too ��� were ��� are ��� just two unhappy flawed people who decided at some point to be unhappy together. Then there was a child, the unwitting result. A child can’t help being born, can it, and someone has to be that child. So it happened to be you. Or me. That’s no reason for us to take our parents personally. Of course, as a child you don’t know that. But as an adult you can look at your father and tell yourself ‘This man is afraid of me’, and he only tries to desperately control what’s been far out of his reach for a long time. It’s a futile attempt, so why not take pity on him?’

  She said nothing, but stared at him, obviously astonished.

  Jack coughed. ‘I don’t mean to say that I always manage, but ���’

  ‘I understand’, she assured him and smiled, ‘I just didn’t know you were such a good psychologist.’

  He sneered a little. ‘Very funny!’

  ‘I mean it! What you said was ��� wise.’

  He shrugged. ‘Constantly blundering around in other people’s minds teaches you a thing or two. One of it is that people are invested in their own hopes and fears most of the time. If they hurt or disregard others in the process, it’s mostly unintentional.’

  Jack felt a little like a hypocrite, telling her not to take others’ disregard personally, when he’d done just that all his life. However, his words did the trick. She looked at him affectionately, suddenly seeming much happier. With a swift movement, she got up from the bed. The suddenness of it threw him, his drunken mind too slow to follow such spontaneous changes easily. ‘What’s wrong?’ he demanded irritably.

  ‘Nothing. I’m going to get undressed and into bed.’

  Suddenly he felt reckless. ‘Do you want me to avert my eyes?’ he drawled.

  The look she gave him was sly, daring him. ‘There’s nothing you haven’t already seen, so I’ll leave it up to you.’

  The cheekiness of the remark made him a little speechless. With narrowed eyes, he watched as she stepped away from the bed and turned her back to him. Her hands reached behind her back, gripped the mane of light-brown hair that had a fiery glow in the weak light from a number of candles floating in the room. She gathered her hair over the right shoulder, exposing a delicate long white neck. He saw her arms reaching up, her fingers probing. And in the next moment, he heard the sensuous noise of an opening zip ���

  Elena’s heart was beating; madly, actually. Here she was, with him, in a double room with a double bed, and it had happened so quickly and naturally as if in a dream (bless Narcissa Malfoy, pompous cow or not, right now Elena could have lit a candle for her). Plus, he was in one of those rare moods ��� bless alcohol, too ��� in which his usual impa
ssive mask was slipping a little, when he was inclined to expose a fraction of what lay beneath, and she knew that she had to handle it as carefully as a basket of freshly laid eggs.

  Maybe undressing in front of him was too obvious, too clumsy. Then again, if they were going to spend the night in this room, she had to undress at some point. She commanded herself not to think too much about it and undid the zip, her back turned to him, and pulled the dress off her shoulders. It sank to the floor with a luxurious rustle and she stepped out of it, arranging Cassie’s gown (‘Be careful with it! It’s my lucky dress!’ she’d said when giving it to her) on an armchair. Elena slipped out of her high-heeled shoes, then put one leg after another on the edge of the armchair and brushed off her stockings, taking her time. All the time, she felt his eyes burning holes into her back. Or rather, she imagined, no, she wished that his eyes were doing just that. Probably, he had really ‘averted his eyes’, as advertised, determined not to allow himself any weakness.