Saturday afternoon, 12 September 1942, in the Slytherin dorms at Hogwarts Castle...
WARNING: References to off-screen sexual assaults.
Arianwen Rosier was in rather a grim mood when she got back to her dorm, as her plans to go out with Gresham had been completely scuttled by the decree that everyone had to leave for Hogsmeade at the same time-and she’d been stuck with extra infirmary duty for the first half of the afternoon. Arianwen was willing to bet that Pomfrey had known exactly what effect that would have on her plans, and wasn’t that just stunning.
Talking to Dylan hadn’t improved her mood, because she couldn’t very well demand he finish a paper for her when he was behind on his schoolwork, and she knew perfectly well why he’d fallen behind. He’d be lucky if Flitwick didn’t give him a lecture, and if Zeller, who was his actual prefect, found out about his living situation, things would only get worse, because Zeller would want to put a stop to that at once.
Naturally the only person still in her dorm would be Dolloway, but Arianwen knew that there was no excuse to take out her frustration on someone else-even Myrtle Dolloway was a human being, as much as she tried to hide it. Besides, everyone changed in fifth year-everyone said so. She ought to give Myrtle at least one or two more chances. “Hello,” said Arianwen, waving to Myrtle as she walked through the room to her bed, took off her coif, and shook out her hair. “You’re not going to town either then?”
“I don’t think so,” Myrtle said, not particularly warmly but in a more distracted fashion than usual. Earlier in the week she and Lois Mulgavey had been all set to use the Hogsmeade weekend to have their revenge on Olive Hornby and then some, but since then, things had changed a lot, hadn’t they? Now Myrtle had better things to think about. Like men. “I’m quite tired, I might just nap.” She began taking the pins out of her own hair, which she’d been experimenting with half the morning.
Arianwen hadn’t noticed Myrtle’s hairdo until she began taking it down, but it was really quite nice, and a staggering change from her usual careless braids. “Wait. What did you do to your hair, can I see before it all comes down? It’s pretty. You should do that, whatever you did, more often.” Arianwen yawned in spite of herself, and sat down on the bed. Maybe she’d take a nap herself.
Myrtle shrugged and put her hands in her lap, leaving most of her hair in place. She was suddenly uncomfortably aware that the style was awfully like one Bella Zabini had favoured a year or so ago, only she had to do it with a lot less hair. And she really didn’t want Rosier to stick around all afternoon, because she wanted to touch herself more. Of course, there was Silencio and all that-she knew they all probably did it, and it had disgusted her so as recently as a few days ago…but even so.
“That is nice,” said Arianwen. “It really is. You have nice hair, Myrtle, you really do. And…I’m not saying that to be mean, I really do mean it, you know.”
“Well, thanks,” Myrtle said, feeling rather touched. Rosier wasn’t such a bad sort. Of course, she was definitely a slag, but now Myrtle herself was too. So there was no reason not to be friendly, was there? It wasn’t as though she was going to be able to keep a straight face as Fran went on about Johnny and whether or not she should let him touch her through her blouse any more. “I think I’ll wear it up more, actually. The, uh…the men like it, you know.”
“Yes,” said Arianwen, “they do. Are you interested in someone now? I mean other than your film stars. Sure Clark Gable’s dreamy, but…quite unlikely to turn up here any time soon.”
Myrtle smiled in what she thought of as a mysterious way. “Oh well, let’s just say I’ve got past the Hubert Crockford stage,” she said.
“Oh good,” said Arianwen. “I used to be friendly with him, but it’s no use, he still doesn’t understand what he did, and Andrew still talks to him, but boys are just like that.”
“Did he really not know that his parents were traitors?” Myrtle asked her suspiciously. Of course, she reflected to herself, he probably had, and just lied to get her to go out with him. Boys were like that. There were lots of reasons Myrtle was into men now.
“I don’t know,” said Arianwen. “Probably not. I mean, Mrs Scalara didn’t know, she was a friend of theirs, and Dimity’s been in their house at least a dozen times. That’s why it was such a shock to everyone!” She shrugged. “The thing is, though, that Dux Kyteler’s house and his were on different streets, but only an alley between them, and he could have run from the back of his house to the tradesman’s entrance and told them about it when he saw what they were about to print, and he didn’t. That’s why Dylan and Hadrian cut him, even though they’re not in allegiance to the Malfoys themselves, like Endymion and Alastor are. Poor Dylan. With Alastor gone since yesterday afternoon, he’s at sixes and sevens.”
“I guess he would be,” Myrtle said smugly. She paused. “Wait, Alastor has already left him yesterday afternoon?” That didn’t make sense. Alastor had promised her last night to leave Dylan. He hadn’t said he’d already done it.
“Alastor went yesterday afternoon with almost everyone else from Tintagel to go to Marco Zabini’s wedding,” said Arianwen. “Everyone at school who’s a member of Lady Malfoy’s household, or the Zabini Company, was excused for the weekend, and they all went up in carriages together yesterday before supper. Alastor and his sister Jenny are part of Aunt Dracaena’s household now, because their father is related to her somehow and has gone off to war, and their mother left him, so where else are they going to live? I wish I’d been able to go, but while I’m a cousin, I’m not a part of the actual household. It’s just that…well. I shouldn’t talk about that, so I won’t, except to say that someone who helped me through a very difficult time is about to be put through a difficult time of his own, and I so wish I could be there for him.” Not that she couldn’t trust Corinne to take care of that, she thought to herself-or that she should even be thinking about it, now that she was involved with Andrew.
“I’m sure that’s what he told people,” Myrtle said serenely, ignoring everything else Arianwen had said.
Arianwen blinked. She had almost blurted out that Myrtle didn’t even know Dr Malfoy, and then she’d realised that Myrtle had to be talking about Alastor, because she couldn’t have had the slightest idea about the rest of it. “It was announced at breakfast yesterday by Magister Goyle. Didn’t you hear?”
“Yes, a nice cover story, huh?” Myrtle said smugly. Didn’t Arianwen understand yet? “But I happen to know that Alastor had much more interesting things to be doing last night.” She grinned in satisfaction.
Arianwen cocked her head to one side and glanced at Myrtle. “You know, Myrtle, I’m not sure what you’re trying to imply, but it’s not very believable. Goyle had Auror Longbottom and Constable Forrester make sure that every single person who was on the guest list boarded the carriage when they said they did, and Lady Goyle was checking, too. You know there’s been trouble with spies getting into and out of the school. My cousin Claudien disappeared, even. So they’re very particular about making sure that people don’t get away without being noticed and that everyone who leaves or enters the grounds is who they say they are. That’s why everyone had to go to Hogsmeade all at once, and why I missed my date. So if you want to prank Dylan, you’ll have to do better than that, he’s quite sharp.”
“I’ve got better things to do now than prank Mulciber,” Myrtle said in exasperation. “Well fine, I shouldn’t have told you anyway. I know who I was with last night and that’s all I’ve got to say.”
Arianwen stared at her. “You believe you were with Alastor Moody last night? Seriously? As in, this really isn’t a prank, you meant it?”
Myrtle merely set her jaw and stared back at Arianwen coldly.
“Myrtle,” said Arianwen, uncertainly. “I’m sorry…I’m sorry I accused you of that, but you did…you know you used to try and do that, all the time.” She swallowed, hard. “It’s just…I’m very sure he left. I didn’t see them leave, because I was in Miss Polly’s classroom, but Alastor wasn’t in Astronomy last night…” Her jaw dropped. “And neither were you, were you?”
“I’m pretty sure I know where I was last night,” Myrtle said tightly.
“We should go and speak to Professor Goyle,” said Arianwen, her cheeks red-what if there was a doppelgänger? Had the right person gone to the Manor? Who had Myrtle been with, really? With the house-elves not working all night, anyone could have got in or out… “You wouldn’t…I mean, what if it was the spy?”
“It wasn’t the spy, it was Alastor Moody,” Myrtle yelled, but she felt her hands beginning to shake. It had been Alastor, it had been. Everything had been exactly right, and Rosier had no idea what she was talking about. It couldn’t have been like that with someone who was Polyjuiced, they wouldn’t have known how to be so…so Alastor. “And it was Riddle the night before and…and I won’t let you wreck this for me, not with all the men you’ve had and they’ve had.” She indicated the other beds in the room.
Arianwen’s eyes widened. “Alastor last night, and Tom the night before? But Tom and Ximena Saenz were together the night before last, Lucius told me-” She swallowed. Why would a spy want to have sex with Myrtle, even if she was pretty when she fixed her hair? Spies were adults; Myrtle was still fifteen, and what did she know that a spy could use?
“Yes, I’m sure he was,” Myrtle said firmly. “It’s pretty clear what you think of me Rosier, believe whatever you have to rather than admit that I can have men too.”
“No!” said Arianwen. “You are very pretty when you fix your hair, and I’m quite sure that if you dressed up and used cosmetics you’d be easily as pretty as the rest of us. You have spots sometimes, but who doesn’t, and at least you’re not covered in freckles…but Alastor is a congenital invert, it’s obvious from his baselines if you know how to look, and Tom…I don’t know what it is about Tom. I’ve tried, but I gave up on him long ago. Tom I could almost believe, nobody really knew what he liked before Miss Saenz came to school-but Alastor would have to be under some kind of compulsion to get an erection with any girl.”
Myrtle still looked angry, but she was beginning to cry. “Then what do you think happened to me, huh?” she said aggressively. “Oh, I know, I’ve probably gone crazy. Of course. That must be it.”
“Oh, Myrtle, of course not,” said Arianwen, suddenly overwhelmed with the realisation that of course it had to be awful to be Myrtle-that as unpleasant as it was to have to live with Myrtle, it must be even harder to have to live with her from inside her, where there was no running away. And while she’d wanted to see Myrtle get her comeuppance for some of the nasty tricks she’d pulled…this wasn’t it. “I don’t know what’s wrong, but we have to find out, because you could be hurt…hell, you already have been.” Arianwen wanted to put her arm around Myrtle’s shoulders, which was a foreign emotion indeed, but she was afraid that Myrtle might slap her. “I’m awfully sorry to spoil your dream, but…I don’t want you to be used.”
“Well, they know what they did,” Myrtle said desperately, but she could picture the scene already. Tom and Alastor would deny everything, it would all fade away, it had just been one night for them, just a bit of fun and she’d be left all alone, just like her mother had been when she had been a baby. At least one thing was better about wizards, she realised: at least if there was a baby, it wouldn’t be for long.
“Let’s…” Arianwen sighed, biting her lip, trying to think of a way to get Myrtle to come to the infirmary or meet with Professor Goyle. Anything…of course. Priscilla had told her more than once how girls who didn’t like to think of themselves as sexual often got swept away and forgot about contraceptive charms. “Myrtle,” she said in a soft voice, “did they at least use something? Because I know you don’t drink moon tea.”
“I don’t know,” Myrtle said softly. “I wasn’t…I don’t know.”
Arianwen took a deep breath. “If you’ll come with me to the infirmary, we can find out if…” She swallowed. Oh, it had been funny when Myrtle got swelled up like a balloon, but this wasn’t funny at all, it was desperately horrible. She remembered all too well how terrified she had been when she realised that even though Martius had forced her to drink the tea, he didn’t know you had to drink it every day, and it didn’t start working for nearly a month… “Come on,” she said, and held out her hand, her face nearly white. “Let’s go.”
Myrtle sat quite still for a minute, and then she jerked as if someone had slapped her. She looked up at Arianwen and took her hand. “All right,” she said softly, and swallowed. At least there won’t be a baby, she thought, and began to cry in earnest.
myrtle_dolloway and slytherinrose