Consequences

Chapter 9: Revelations

The floor beneath me shakes with the sudden thundering of feet.

There are voices. All talking together. They sound panicked. Why?

‘What happened?’ That’s Poppy.

‘Nymph! What the fuck?’

‘I don’t know, she was fine, we were just ...’ Remus.

There’s arguing and it’s hard to distinguish one voice from another. Poppy says something about bed. I hear Charlie again. ‘Remus, I’ve got her.’

I’m moving ...

*

There is sand everywhere; all around me, desert. Why is there desert and a pier? But instead of sea there’s just more sand. It’s hot. So hot. I push the sleeves up on my tee shirt. The sun beats down on my skin. Why am I only wearing a tee shirt? A large, white tee shirt with big black lettering: “Frankie Says Relax.” Relax? That might be an idea. Just let go.

‘Don’t you leave me.’

Who said that?

I really want ice cream.

There’s a Rossi’s on the pier and I walk determinedly toward it, the hot sand burning the soles of my feet.

I order a cone from a spotty youth in the window. He hands it to me before I realise I have no money. He says not to worry, there’s no cost if I’m getting on the boat. Boat? He points behind me and I turn to see a large blue sailboat tethered to the pier. There’s already a line to board. Is that where I’m supposed to go? The ice cream is fabulous and it does wonders cooling me down but it’s melting quickly; soon there’ll be nothing left.

‘I won’t lose you too.’

Remus?

Who’s Remus?

It’s almost my turn to board when line of penguins waddles in front of me, making me stop short.

Penguins? Surely it’s too hot for penguins.

The last one, the biggest of the group, turns to me.

‘Nymph, what the fuck did you take?’

That wasn’t very penguin-like. I close my eyes and see a face; ginger hair, loads of freckles, great smile ... When I open them again the penguin’s still staring at me. I offer it the rest of my ice cream but it says it prefers chocolate and turns away. A group of old ladies has jumped the queue and now I’ll have to wait again. My fault for listening to penguins.

‘She just had sleeping draft.’

‘How much?’

‘Just one packet, made it for her myself.’

Who’s talking?

I look about but there is no one near aside from the old ladies, and that pelican. The pelican hops closer.

‘Drink this,’ it says, removing a glass of mucky-looking liquid from its mouth and holding it out to me.

‘What is it?’

‘Drink.’

‘No.’

But I feel pressure of cold glass on my lips even though the pelican still holds it.

‘Drink,’ the bird insists. I take the glass. It smells like lemonade. Tastes like lemonade. I drink it, not wanting to annoy the pelican. I swear it’s glaring at me. Seemingly satisfied, it turns and flies off.

The liquid is like ice down my throat, it makes me shiver, makes my head feel light. For a few moments it gives me some relief from the ridiculous heat but it doesn’t last, soon I’m burning again.

‘Coming aboard, Miss?’ It’s my turn, finally. The captain takes the glass from me and it vanishes to dust in his hand.

‘Where are we going?’ I ask.

‘Come on, or we’ll be late.’

‘Late for what?’ But he doesn’t answer me. He’s helping the next passengers to board.

I stand at the stern and look back at the shore. There’s water all around now. Why could I not see it from the pier?

‘I found this in her room.’

‘More sleeping draft?’

‘How many did she take?’

‘There were two packets in the bin.’

‘God, girl, what were you thinking?’

‘You don’t think ...’

‘She wouldn’t ...’

‘I’m not so sure.’

I look around again for the source of the voices, but the rest of the passengers stand at the bow, looking forward toward the sea. I’m the only one looking back.

‘Nymph, please.’ I know that voice.

Who said that?

‘Nymphadora?’

Was that my name?

All passengers are on board and the captain prepares to set sail.

‘Where are we going?’ I ask him again, as he shuffles past me.

‘Tir na n’Og,’ he mutters. What is that? I know that word; knew that word.

‘I hate to leave,’ comes a voice beside me. I look down to see a boy of about eight standing there looking back at the shore.

‘Why?’

‘My mother will miss me. I know she’ll be all right but I hated seeing her cry.’

‘Why don’t you stay?’

‘I can’t,’ he smiles at me, an amused expression on his face. ‘I was never meant to stay.’ He turns and walks away, joining the group of people in the bow.

I find myself alone once more, staring at the vast sand on the shore as the boat pulls away from the pier.

It’s then I see him. A wizard standing on the sand. He’s dressed in mourning robes, his black hood completely obscuring his face. I don’t know who he is, can’t remember his name ...

But I can’t leave him.

And I’m leaving, aren’t I? The waves splash around the boat. I’m leaving. Leaving for Tir na n’Og. The land of eternal youth. The land of the dead. That’s where I’m going.

I can’t leave him.

He will not be all right if I go.

Can’t leave ...

The waves are stronger now and I look down to see the penguins in the water, swimming below me in frantic circles. I climb up onto the railing at the stern of the boat and, fixing my gaze on the wizard on shore, I jump.

*

Cold. So cold. Can’t breathe! Why can’t I breathe? I can feel my chest tighten, my body convulse. I can’t breathe. I’m drowning. Where did the penguins go? Fuck the penguins. It’s dark and bright and water fills my lungs. My legs kick, arms flail, my chest is so tight it feels like I’ll explode.

Then I break through. Gasping for breath, drawing it in so deeply. It hurts so much. Like I’ve swallowed broken glass.

‘Calm down. You’re all right,’ a disembodied voice says. ‘Molly, hand me ...’

What?

I feel something warm press against my lips. Liquid: hot and bitter.

*

I had the strangest dream. Can’t remember. ... A penguin that spoke with Charlie’s voice. A boat? What did the penguin say? That’s right. “Nymph, what the fuck did you take?”

That doesn’t make any sense.

There’s water. I hear water, just softly, but close. Then I can feel it on my forehead; a damp cloth, like my mother would lay on my head when I was sick. There’s something pressing on my hip, something heavy ...

I try and open my eyes; they’re sore; I’m so tired. I blink in the dim light of the room and see a woman, her graying red hair swept into a bun, wearing a dark green cardigan. She smiles down at me. ‘It’s all right,’ she says softly. I blink again and look down, I can’t help but smile. Charlie is asleep sitting in a chair by the bed, his head resting on my hip. This isn’t my room.

‘Molly?’ I manage to whisper. My voice sounds strange, barely there. ‘I fell asleep on the stairs.’

‘Yes.’ She smiles at me again ‘Sort of. Just rest dear. Close your eyes. Everything will be all right.’

Sort of ...

*

Pink sheets ... Soft ... Pink ... My room ...

Something about falling and feeling sick ... hot ... Penguins? What the ... I blink in the dim light of the room and open my eyes. There is a bowl and a flannel on the bedside table. The flannel was on my forehead? Molly was here? Or was I somewhere else? Was I sick? My neck is sore.

In the chair in the corner by the fireplace is a man. A man with scruffy ginger hair, wearing blue jeans and an Aran sweater. A man reading Molly Malone. Charlie.

I pull myself up on my elbows and realise that my neck is not the only bit of me that is sore. I’m not tired, that’s a bonus. Just stiff.

‘Hi.’

‘Hi,’ Charlie says, standing and dropping the book into the chair. ‘How are you feeling?’

‘Fine.’ I say, pulling myself into a sitting position. ‘A little sore ... Hungry.’

He laughs. ‘Good. Poppy said no more sleeping for you. Once you woke, I was to get you up and moving about.’ Charlie hands me my slippers.

Must have been sick. ‘Okay.’

Sitting up and swinging my legs over the edge of the bed proves easy. Leaning over to put my slippers on, well, that’s another story; I pitch forward onto the floor, well, almost onto the floor, bar one fast redhead.

‘Sit back,’ he says, helping me back to the bed. ‘Let me.’

‘Thanks. I think I sat up too quickly.’

He nods, slides my slippers onto my feet and offers me his hand. ‘Come on, Mum’s made you some supper.’

‘Supper?’

‘Yes.’

‘Didn’t we just have supper?’

‘Well I did, a few hours ago. But you haven’t had anything.’

‘Yes ... we had roast pork, you were there ...’

He shakes his head. ‘Nymph, that was last night.’

‘What?’

‘It’s Tuesday.’

‘Tuesday?’ How is it Tuesday? ‘Fuck, there’s an Order meeting tonight. What time is it?’ I stand and move past him, headed for the door. ‘I was supposed to ...’ Why am I so dizzy?

Charlie clasps my arm, steadying me, and steers me back to the edge of the bed. ‘We finished over an hour ago.’

‘What? Charlie, you’re not making any sense.’

‘You were still asleep.’ This is ridiculous.

‘What? Why didn’t anyone wake me?

‘We couldn’t wake you.’

‘What the hell is going on?’

‘Calm down.’

‘No!’

‘Nymph.’

Charlie stands, shakes his head and chews on his lower lip like he does when he’s trying to edit his words. So I push.

‘Charlie, what the hell happened?’

‘You took three doses of sleeping draft, that’s what fucking happened!’ he blurts.

What? ‘No, I didn ...’ Oh, fuck ... I did. Taking a step backward I sit back down on the bed. ‘I did.’

‘Yeah.’ He nods. ‘You did.’

‘Oh.’

Charlie runs his hands through his hair and looks down at me. ‘Was that just for fun or were you trying to kill yourself?’

‘What? No. Of course not.’

‘Really?’ he says in a voice full of disbelief. ‘Then why?’

‘I just wanted to sleep.’

‘Come off it, Nymph, you’re not that stupid. Have you never read the warning labels on the backs of those boxes?’

‘No.’ Haven’t.

‘You’re not supposed to take them for more than three nights in a row. You’re never supposed to double dose, let alone fucking treble.’

‘Come on, Charlie, it’s not that bad.’

‘Not that bad? Nymph, you nearly died.’

‘What?’

He backs away from me and I know he’s just angry now. Always moves away when he’s angry. He doesn’t think I’m taking him seriously but he’s making no sense.

‘If Poppy hadn’t been here. Right here, in this building, you would be dead.’

What? ‘Charlie ...’

‘You think I’m joking? I’m just drifting off and I get jarred awake by Remus screaming his fucking head off on the landing and I get out there to see him ... and you ... You were white as a ghost, and just lying there limp in his arms, blood coming out of your mouth, and Remus ...’ Charlie runs both hands through his hair and rounds on me again. ‘Fuck, Nymph, next time you’ve had enough, do it yourself, don’t fucking use other people.’

‘What ...’

‘Remus. You had him mix that final sleeping draft for you. Can you image how he’d’ve felt if you’d actually died?’

Oh shit ... Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuuuuck.

I push past him, finally reaching the door, pulling it open and pounding on the door on the other side of the landing. Nothing.

‘What are you doing?’

‘Looking for Remus.’

‘He’s downstairs.’

He grabs my wrist as I push past him but I’ll have none of that and he’s forced to let go almost immediately.

I take the stairs as fast as I can. There’s a thundering behind me and I don’t have to look back to know Charlie’s following.

*

Bill and Remus are sitting at a table near the bar playing chess. They are on their feet the instant I enter; Charlie right at my heels.

I bring myself t o a full stop when I see the concern on their faces; realising I have no idea what I want to say. I’m sorry seems wholly inadequate.

‘How are you feeling?’ Remus is the first to speak, although he sounds rather clinical.

‘I’m fine.’

‘Oh, yeah, she’s just brilliant,’ comes Charlie’s sarcastic voice behind me.

‘Leave her alone, Charlie,’ Bill warns.

‘No. Are you just going to let her get away with this? Just pretend that all’s right with the world and the past twenty-four hours never happened?’

‘I’m sure she’ll tell us in her own time,’ Remus interjects.

‘No, she won’t. You pretend it never happened and so will she; that’s how it works,’ Charlie shoots back.

I can’t help but think he’s not just talking about tonight.

‘Charlie ...’ I begin. Charlie takes another step toward me.

‘Back off.’ Bill says, stepping in between his younger brother and myself, his tall, dark, frame casting me in shadow. The chivalry is flattering but really not necessary, I can handle Charlie. ‘Just back off,’ Bill repeats.

‘No.’

‘I think you’ve done enough.’

‘What?’ Charlie gives his brother an incredulous look. ‘Oh, is this my fault now?’

‘Partially, I think,’ Bill says, his voice Head boy-cool.

‘How did you work that one out?’

They’re standing almost toe to toe now and it reminds me of the fights they had in school. Usually over sports or girls but never over me. I don’t like this.

‘Don’t be stupid ...’ I say, but no one is listening to me. As I slide onto the barstool beside Bill and wonder if they’d notice if I left the room.

‘Of course it’s my fault Bill, every fucking thing is always my fault, isn’t it?’

‘You should’ve known.’

Charlie smacks his palm against his chest in exasperation, the dull thud loud in the room. ‘I should have known? I should have known! You’re the one that’s here, why didn’t you see? You live with her most of the time. I see her three times in two years and I’m supposed to know all the crap she’s gone through?’

‘Perhaps you should just learn not to contribute to it.’

‘Contribute?’ Incredulous, he points at me on my stool. I suppose I’m not as invisible as I’d thought. ‘She turned up on my doorstep. What was I supposed to do? Turn my back on her?’

‘You were supposed to act like a gentleman.’

‘Fuck off, Bill. It’s none of your business.’

‘It is when my little brother fucks the girlfriend of a mate of mine.’

Oh, so now I’m just the girlfriend of a mate. Cheers, Bill.

‘If his girlfriend ends up on my doorstep in the middle of the night ... well ... there’s something he’s not doing.’

Bill swings. I’m surprised that it doesn’t make contact. Charlie grabs his wrist, pulls his arm behind his back and pushes his older brother to the floor.

Then it’s over; Charlie lets go and Bill scrambles to his feet. If looks could kill.

‘If you think this has anything to do with me or even what’s-his-face you’re wrong. Tonks knows that a boyfriend isn’t worth killing yourself for. She’s not stupid.’

‘Just how I see it.’ I notice Bill has moved out of Charlie’s range.

‘Well, then, I think you need glasses.’

‘Come off it, Charlie, what else could it be?’

‘What else could it be? Fuck, you are blind! She thinks it’s her fault he’s dead, don’t you see that?’

I can’t believe he just said that. I feel suddenly nauseous.

‘Who?’ Bill asks rather incredulously.

‘Fucking Sirius fucking Black.’

Charlie, shut up!

‘If only she were quicker or stronger or better, he’d still be alive.’

Remus and Bill exchange looks that I can’t quite read from here and Remus moves closer to Bill, closer to me.

But Charlie isn’t finished yet. ‘She thinks she failed, and not just him but all of you.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Remus says.

‘Oh, I’m being ridiculous. Ask her.’ He turns to me. ‘You do, don’t you?’

‘Shut up, Charlie.’

Remus is looking back at me, and I can’t meet his eyes. If I look at him, he’ll know ... He’ll know that I’m right.

Charlie’s looking at me. He knows he’s said too much but his look is unapologetic. There is dead silence for far too long and then Charlie shakes his head and looking back at Bill, mutters, ‘Idiotule,’ turns and leaves the room.

Silence again.

It’s only the slamming of the front door that brings us back to reality.

‘Tonks?’ Bill says, approaching me with caution.

‘I’ve got to go.’ Without looking at either of them I leave, finding myself moments later running up the staircase to my room and throwing myself face first onto the bed

That wasn’t fair. He had no right to tell them that. That’s private. It ‘s mine. He had no fucking right!


*

There is a knock at the door.

‘Charlie, leave me alone!’

‘It’s Remus,’ comes the voice from the other side. ‘I brought you some food.’

‘Thanks, but I’m not hungry.’ My voice sounds odd, quiet, in the eerie silence of the room. Rolling onto my back, I sit up, scrub my hands over my face, draw my breath in deeply and face the blank, white, door.

‘Poppy was quite insistent that you eat something ... and Molly made it especially. Can I come in?’

I want to say no. ‘Yes.’

He enters and, after setting a covered tray in front of me on the bed, takes the seat by the fire.

‘What is it?’ I ask, pulling the cloth back from the tray.

‘Soup. Leek and potato, I think she said and bread,’ he replies, taking a paperback book out of a pocket in his robes and settling back into the chair to read. I take the cover off the soup and a gush of steam hits me in the face. It smells wonderful.

I eat my supper and watch him and his book, wondering what he is thinking. He hasn’t even looked at me since he entered. Is he that repulsed?

Truthfully, I was expecting a lecture. A ‘good talking to.’ Some kind of reprimand for my stupidity. Not this silence.

Silence is worse. So much worse.

‘What’s it like outside today?’ I ask; pathetic, I know, but it’s all I’ve got.

‘Cold. Foggy. Raining. Like it has been for the past week,’ he replies, still engrossed in his novel.

‘Mad-Eye says it’s Dementors. Dementors causing the mist.’

‘Hmmm.’

‘Just something Mad-Eye said.’

Silence.

I stir the soup slowly with my spoon, pick it up and watch it drip back into the bowl. I can’t eat this. Not anymore. Not with this fog that’s hanging over everything in the room. I hate it. I fucking hate it. The spoon makes a loud clinking noise as I drop it into the bowl and look back at Remus.

I wonder if he was like this when he taught. Because this feels like detention to me. Like I can’t be trusted to eat my dinner alone. Is that it? Am I being supervised?

He’s definitely not here for conversation.

How do you think he’d’ve felt if you’d actually died? Charlie’s words echo in my ears.

This is so fucked. How can I possibly fix this?

Placing the dinner tray on the bedside table, I move to the corner of the bed closest to him, draw my knees to my chest and just stare at him. He continues to read.

‘I didn’t do it on purpose, Remus,’ I manage, finally.

He nods but doesn’t look up from his book.

‘Honestly ... I didn’t.’

Nothing.

‘Remus, please?’

He shuts the book slowly, seems to draw a deep breath and finally raises his eyes to meet mine.

‘Then why didn’t you tell me you’d already had two?’

My turn to look away now. ‘I don’t know. It didn’t seem important ...’

‘And you knew if you told me I wouldn’t make it for you.’

‘Maybe ...’

‘No, maybe ... You knew that. You nearly died. I nearly killed you.’

‘I’m so sorry ... I didn’t ... I just wanted to sleep. I needed to sleep.’

‘So badly you were willing to risk everything? Your life?’

‘I didn’t ... wasn’t even thinking about that.’

He leans down and puts his book on the floor, slides forward in his chair, so that he’s closer to me, nearly touching. ‘What Charlie said ... It’s true, isn’t it?’

My head feels like it may explode and my heart is frantically racing. I don’t want to have this conversation. Not now. Not with him. Not ever. I find myself backing up on the bed, moving away from him, away from any comfort he could offer me. ‘How could you possibly think ...’ he continues.

‘Just leave it, Remus. Leave it alone.’

‘No,’ he says. ‘How can I sit idly by and watch you take the blame for something you had no control over?’ He leans forward and I find myself moving further away.

‘You don’t understand.’

‘Then tell me.’

‘Leave it, Remus.’

‘No.’

‘Please.’

‘You forget, I was there too. There was nothing you could have done.’

I just shake my head and look away. I know that’s just not true.

‘We all went willingly,’ he continues. ‘We all knew the risks.’

‘I know.’

‘And you, well you just went head long at the most dangerous of the bunch. Quite impressed, actually.’

‘She’s my aunt, Remus.’

‘I know,’ he says, getting up from his chair and moving onto the bed beside me. ‘ Is this what this is about? Some misguided sense of responsibility because you’re related? You can’t pick your relatives, Tonks, you know that.’

I just nod.

‘That’s not it though, is it?’

Running my hands through my hair, I stand up and just walk away. I hate this. I fucking, fucking, fucking, hate this.

‘Nymphadora?’

But I keep my back to him.

‘Did I tell you about the last time I saw Sirius?’ My voice sounds odd, distant somehow and I shiver even in the warmth of the room, crossing my arms in front of me.

‘No.’

‘It was right before she hit me.’

‘What is it?’ he asks softly. I draw a deep breath and bite down on my lip but I still can’t turn around.

‘I heard Harry yell “Petrificus Totalis”,’ I hear myself say, ‘and I looked. It was only for a moment but I did it.’

‘And ...’ comes the calm voice from behind me.

And?

‘We were all there to help Harry, Tonks.’

Slowly, I turn to face him. He’s looking at me like I’m mad.

Doesn’t he understand?‘

‘That’s it?’ he asks softly. ‘Am I supposed to hate you for that?’

‘Why does nothing bother you?’ find myself shouting, hoping for some sort of reaction but even as the words leave my mouth I know they’re untrue, that they’re unfair and I don’t know why I said them, or even why the fuck I’m screaming at Remus, but I do it anyway. He stiffens and swallows hard.

‘On the contrary, Nymphadora, a lot of things bother me.’ His voice is still calm, still level, but the tone has changed completely. I don’t like it. ‘It bothers me that for twelve years I believed Sirius a murderer. It bothers me that I couldn’t do more for him when I found out her wasn’t. It bothers me that he wouldn’t listen to reason that night. That he insisted on coming with us. And it ...’ He turns from me briefly, like he means to walk away but then changes his mind and comes back. ‘And it bothers me that last night I had to watch you die too.’ I try to look away but he steps sideways and holds my gaze. ‘Over what?’ he continues, ‘Over some chance happening that you had aboslutely no control over.’

‘You don’t understand.’

‘I think I do.’

‘You’re not supposed to look. You can’t look! You can’t get distracted! It’s basic! It’s fucking, basic training and I did it, and she hit me! And now Sirius is dead and everything has gone to hell and all I’ve got is that moment! The last time I saw him.’

‘Our biggest concern was Harry. You did nothing wrong.’

‘It’s weak, it’s unacceptable.’

‘It’s human.’

‘No! It’s just not good enough!’

The tightness in my chest is overwhelming; I bite down on my lip and shut my eyes, trying to fight the onslaught of tears threatening to overtake me. It’s no use.

I want to run but he’s standing between me and the door, I know he’s not going to want to let me leave and I really don’t trust myself to Disapparate at the moment. So instead, I just throw myself onto the bed and bury my face in the pillow, hoping that he’ll leave me alone now. That he’ll just go away.

But he doesn’t. I feel the mattress beside me compress. Feel his hand on my shoulder and then on my back.

He pulls a blanket over me. ‘You’re shivering.’

‘Leave me alone.’

‘No,’ he says simply, pulling me, blanket and all, into his arms.

I keep my arms crossed in front of me in some pathetic attempt to create distance, to keep him away. It does me no good, just serves to tighten his embrace, until I finally relent, finally letting him pull me closer.

‘I don’t need a fucking blanket,’ I mumble into his chest

‘I know.’ His hand is in my hair and he whispers against my ear. ‘I know.’

~