RP: Priorities, Priorities
Date: 3 July 2005
Character(s): Lisa Turpin (flashbacking: Draco Malfoy, Ernie Macmillan, Terry Boot)
Location: The wilds of Germany, Hospital
Status: Private.
Summary: Lisa dreams her own dreams for once, and returns home slightly altered.
Completion: Complete.
The unnaturally pale body of a young witch was sprawled out under a cluster of pine trees in the golden, fading sunlight of the Black Forest, dark robes torn half to shreds. Needles littered the ground, and night was coming quickly. It would have looked rather as if she'd curled up for an afternoon doze if not for the awkward twist of her right leg and the state of her clothing- as it stood, Lisa Turpin was, indeed, sleeping- in a sense.
------------
"Well spotted, Miss Turpin, well spotted indeed!" chirped Professor Flitwick as he waved his wand at the lone Doxy left lingering at the bottom corner of a curtain. Having been highly amused at tales of Lockhart's infamous Pixie Incident, he'd added in a special lesson once a year on stunning spells, "just to be quite sure." Professor Moody had been drilling them on rather more complicated spells in DADA this year, and she was glad for the review.
"Five points," he continued brightly, "and class dismissed. Do stay a moment, won't you?" was directed to her, and she paused, hand on the strap of her book-bag, looking rather Stunned herself. She had never been held after class, not once- not even the time that Terry had blown up their cauldron in Potions-
Staying entirely still as the class filed out, the boy in question shot her a worried glance before exiting after Anthony. Things she could have possibly done to incur the wrath of her Head of House flitted rapidly through her mind- she had snuck out to the edge of the forest to look for centaur hoof-prints with Luna Lovegood, but they hadn't gone in, and it had been nearly a week since-
"Ah, well," said the little man, clearing his throat as he gestured for her to come down to his desk. "Don't be shy, Turpin, there's a good girl- now sit."
She obeyed, feeling rather nervous sitting for the first time in front of her Head's desk, though his bristly whiskers and round, wrinkled face did a great deal to quell her nerves.
"I was rather wondering whether you might like to become a Prefect," he asked matter-of-factly, as if it were the lightest sort of thing in the world. Lisa blinked.
"Er- Professor, aren't we- aren't Prefects assigned over the summer?" she asked, wondering if there were some sort of secret initiation ritual that the general population had never been told of. Surely not, though, Percy Weasley would've burst from the stress of hiding it-
"Well, yes, typically, typically," he said, taking far too long for her tastes to elaborate. He cleared his throat. "I have just a- small touch of hesitation, however-" watching her face fall, he continued quickly, "not that you aren't qualified! No, no, dear, your marks are top-notch, as I'm sure will be your OWL's-" He struggled a bit in his chair, clearly discomfited. Lisa was positively dying to know what on earth he was on about, though she would be lying if she said that the idea of Prefectship didn't strongly appeal-
"It's just that- you don't seem to be very interested in the more- social aspects of young Wizarding life. Now you and Mr. Boot are attached at the hip, I know-" his eyes twinkled in the direction of the doorway, as if he were quite sure that Terry was waiting outside. Not entirely unlikely, thought Lisa, suppressing the smile that threatened to burst. "But that isn't quite what it takes to be a Prefect. You've got to be concerned for the welfare of not only your fellow Ravenclaw, but each and every Hogwarts student-" at this he puffed his chest up, coming rather strongly to resemble an offended walrus- "in fact, in these dark times, you may well be their only line of defense!"
At this, she sat up a bit straighter. Of course she would do anything to defend Hogwarts- even those prats on the Slytherin Quidditch Team if it came to that, though she dearly hoped it wouldn't. She owed everything to this place- to Dumbledore, to the Board, even to the Ministry itself for plucking her out of the indignity of being six in the Wizarding world and half-dozen in the Muggle. If she didn't linger to bat her eyelashes at the Gryffindor boys after Astrology, like a few of her yearmates she could mention, it didn't mean a single thing about her loyalty-
"I'd give my life to defend this castle, Professor," she said, very calmly, after a long, quiet, pause. "Surely you must know."
And, as she met the old Wizard's eyes, Lisa saw the hint of deep shrewdness revealed only when he was working out a particularly difficult bit of spellwork. Feeling a rush of pride in her House, she realized that he had known- that he had needed only to see it the once. Dark times, indeed- the thought that Flitwick had even for a moment questioned what side she was on lit something dark and hot in the pit of her stomach, but she pushed it further down.
"And let's pray you shan't have to!" her Professor replied, brightness returning to his wrinkled features. "Do try not to tell the other students, I haven't the faintest idea what the rest of the Heads have been up to." With that, he winked at her, and ushered her out into the hallway, where Terry was indeed lurking with no great amount of subtlety behind a suit of armor. He rushed up to her, but she swore to herself that she wouldn't utter a word until next year, not even if he begged her- she knew precisely where her loyalties lay.
------------
Brushing rather unceremoniously past a group of twittering Third Years, Lisa caught up with Terry and Michael as they got off the train, engaged in a singularly amusing re-telling of Fred and George Weasley's legendary escape from Umbridge Fifth Year. She hadn't been there, of course, and she rather doubted that any of them had, either, but boys would be boys- Head Girl badge pinned neatly to her robes, she quirked a small smile and tapped Terry lightly on the shoulder.
He threw his arms around her in a warm, silent hug, and she couldn't help but beam a little bit. She'd missed him terribly- they'd met up in Diagon once or twice, but her mother was awfully loath to let her out of the house alone.
"Well done, Lisa," came a voice from behind her- Tracey Davis, they'd done Arithmancy together- with a polite smile, she turned her attention back to Terry. They had reached the doors, however- when she made to turn right, he grabbed the sleeve of her robe.
"Where are you off to, Lis?" he asked, waving off Michael as he headed into the Hall.
"I'm not hungry," she insisted. "I've got to unpack, then go pester Flitwick for an early copy of my schedule- I'll be back down for the First Years-"
Rolling his eyes, Terry grabbed her by the arm and gently pulled her toward the door of the Great Hall. Candles were glowing inside, and she could hear the chattering of a hundred excited voices all at once-
"Don't be ridiculous. Don't you want to know who got Head Boy?"
Now that he mentioned it, she rather did. Frowning at the thought of a wasted hour of gossip, she consented to be herded gently toward the Ravenclaw table. It was diminished- terrifyingly diminished, benches half empty- and Su gone, she thought, with an unpleasant sinking feeling. This is exactly what she'd wanted not to see. And as for the Head Boy, she realized, that was no great mystery- it'd have to be Harry Potter, wouldn't it? He hadn't been a Prefect, it was true, but now, after they all were quite sure that You-Know-Who had returned-
Just as she'd settled herself down next to Luna, who had greeted her warmly, she heard a rather insistent bit of throat-clearing just behind her ear. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a patch of light-brown hair- standing, she turned to face the boy behind her, clad in freshly pressed Hufflepuff robes with a gleaming badge to match her own.
"Ernie Macmillan," he said, holding out a hand. "You'll be Miss Turpin, of course?"
Finding his manner just the tiniest hint amusing, she dutifully shook his hand. Terry elbowed her in the back while studiously pretending to eat a bit of chicken.
"Yes- Lisa Turpin," she said, smiling. "I- congratulations." She recognized him now, of course- they'd had Potions together, and Care of Magical Creatures in the early years, if she remembered right. He'd grown quite taller and a good deal less round.
"And the same," he said, inclining his head a little bit toward her. "Now, what time this week would be best for a first meeting? I was thinking Tuesday just after dinner- give us plenty of time to finish work in the afternoon-"
Lisa blinked. She had only just gotten her badge in the post last week. What if he had defense plans drawn up? Prefect rounds? Good lord, she'd let the entire thing slip- but in the past it had been an almost entirely ceremonial position-
"Yes, Tuesday would be fine for me," she said distractedly. "In our- our study's on the fourth floor, isn't it? East Wing?"
"Yes, that's the one," replied MacMillan, quirking an eyebrow. He must have thought her terribly scatterbrained. "Er- Tuesday, then?" he said, clearly at a loss. She nodded mutely, waving a bit of a goodbye as he retreated back to the Hufflepuff table. As soon as he was out of earshot, Terry erupted in uproarious laughter.
"Oh, well done, Lisa, really. You'd think you'd never spoken to a boy before-"
Settling rather crossly back into her seat, she glanced down to the First Years huddled in terror at the long end of the table. At least they hadn't heard anything. Shooting Terry a rare withering glance, she resolved never to look like a complete prat in front of Ernie Macmillan again. He might have been terribly stuffy, but she would not be out-done by a Hufflepuff- and if the year was shaping up to be anything as dire as last would be, she- and Hogwarts- would need them working together.
--------
"Lisa, wake up-" came an insistent voice. Her fingers clenched around her wand. Her side ached. Where was she... ?
Muttered curses- a painful throbbing in her side- someone had lifted the bedsheets and, as easily as if she were a child, dumped her out onto the floor.
"Ow," was the first thing she said, then, pulling her wand out of the waistband of her denims to make sure it hadn't snapped, "that was hardly necessary."
Pushing herself off the edge of the bed and onto her feet, she glowered at Draco, then reached over to the edge of her tangled-up bedsheets to grab at her sweater. It was cold- they'd been in Morocco for weeks, and she'd never quite become used to the evening chill.
"What is it, then?" she said, rubbing blearily at her eyes as she glanced out their window through the crack in the curtains drawn shut. "Or is it my watch?"
"No," he said briskly, "but I'm rather sure I saw a vampire lurking out on the street. The sun's rising, but that means there'll be others about shortly."
Wide awake now, she cocked her head to the side, peering at him. "Are you quite sure? We covered our tracks- and we haven't any reason they could possibly know about to be out here-"
Draco quirked an eyebrow. Lisa flushed a little.
"I'm not being stupid, it's just- it's very unlikely-"
"You're hurt," he cut her off, "and you haven't been keeping up, not with your wards, not the way you used to. I'm not going to get sprung on in the middle of the night in some foreign city unprepared because you'd rather catch another hour of sleep."
She was taken aback by his reaction, and stood silent for a moment- Draco snapped at her- well, at everyone really- with considerable regularity, but she'd never seen him this genuinely cross with her. To imply that she was weakening- her spellwork had been getting slightly less solid, it was true, but it was still more than powerful enough to protect her- to protect them.
"Fine," was all she said in response, turning her back on him to gather their meager amount of possessions into a pack. Shrinking it, she thought she could hear a small noise of consternation behind her, but the wall cracked- imagination, she thought firmly, and paranoia, and in a minute or so they were packed and Disillusioned and out the door of the Muggle hotel at which they'd spent a scant six hours.
Keeping close behind Draco, she watched him intently as he walked- either he'd been set off by something or he truly did feel that her injury put him in danger, and no amount of unfond rumors from their school days could lessen the humiliation that throbbed in the pit of her stomach. They'd been together for three months now- three grueling months, never more than two days in the same place or two months in the same country, running from the Death Eaters who wanted Draco painfully dead and her as painfully alive. He'd be dead now for sure if it wasn't for her- and you if not for him, came a voice, unbidden, and she frowned and continued walking on.
Draco glanced back to check on her, briefly meeting her eyes- they were unreadable, as usual, but he didn't seem cross any longer. His shoulders had relaxed- he seemed relieved to be out of the hotel, away, she supposed, from danger- but they had put themselves in an even more vulnerable position, in a sense, as any half decent Dark Wizard would see through the charm immediately. What on earth was he playing at?
"I'm surprised at how long you managed to sleep," he said, too lightly, and an inkling of something began to creep up into her chest. "Are you still having those- visions?"
"Yes," she answered, equally light, "but they aren't so bad, anymore. I think that my body is- adjusting." What she might have otherwise used as an opening for further conversation, she left hanging- if Draco intended to communicate to her what exactly he was on about, he'd do it in his own good time.
"I'm glad to hear it. Perhaps we might be able to linger somewhere long enough to actually get some of those "missions" of yours accomplished." Lost in thought, she frowned at the back of his head- and it clicked into place, then. If she hadn't been so dumbfounded she would have rolled her eyes. He hadn't been worried for his own safety- and surely his action as St. Mungo's could have shown you that? whispered the little voice. He thought she wasn't strong enough to fight any more. That if they let themselves fall into the slightest bit of danger, even knowing it, she'd die- perhaps he even doubted his own abilities to protect her, though he'd never made hint of that before.
"One would hope," she said neutrally, and picked up the pace a little bit to walk beside him. It wasn't protocol, but they so rarely followed it as it was- and, a tendril of hope blooming in her chest, she realized that was the only reason they'd been able to accomplish anything at all.
--------
"Up, Lisa- wake up-" his voice was echoing still in her head when she woke, and she shook it off as her eyes struggled open. For a moment she imagined she was on the lawn at Hogwarts- no, wrong trees- wrong trees, wrong mountains, wrong everything-
Pain shot through her leg, like she'd been hit with a Bludger- she raised her head just a fraction off the grass to see it twisted, feel it numb. Damn, she thought, and quickly realized that a bum ankle was the least of her worries- her wand was nowhere to be found.
With a sense of increasing embarrassment, she imagined the scene that would ensue upon stepping into Ollivander's shop and announcing that she had lost his loaner. He wouldn't take money for it, of course- would only level her with that penetrating look and return her old wand, the wand she'd kept at Hogwarts, the one that had flourished a curling "L" in the air when she'd clutched it, tremblingly, at eleven-
Accio Wand, she thought, with as much concentration as she could muster, but it was little use- she had some vague memory of a particularly ugly hag snatching it, claws raking the back of her hand- Lisa didn't care to look just at this moment. She had more than enough scars already.
Groaning lowly, she pushed herself up off the ground and into a kneeling position. It had all gone wrong, then- she knew that there had been Ministry attempts at diplomacy during the war, but she had never heard the details of how badly it had failed, only that it had, and that none further had been made. Her ankle was twisted- the shard throbbed-
At least I can Apparate, she thought, finally, painstakingly, pushing herself to her feet. Back to Stoatshead- it seemed little more than a faintly glowing dream. She would, she realized with a bit of a start, be glad to sit back at the Five Alarm with a bourbon and a cigarette. She must have missed one- no, two Ministry paychecks- it would be something to donate to the hospital after Luna and Ginny patched her up, with enough left to give a good go at Ollivander. He wouldn't withhold her old wand from her- pull yourself together, she thought firmly, looking around the faintly glowing forest one last time. From now on, she'd delegate the damn treasure hunting. Without a partner- alone the voice echoed- she was useless at that sort of thing.
Closing her eyes tightly, she thought of Stoatshead- the corner, just next to the Hospital, with the broken Muggle streetlight-
And she was there, breathing in the thick air of England, home, safe.
Home- safe- she had a rather strong urge to get to Terry's straightaway, but the hopping about on one leg until she'd managed to get to a wall convinced her otherwise. Leg, then Terry, then Draco, then- she stopped herself there.
First things first.
Character(s): Lisa Turpin (flashbacking: Draco Malfoy, Ernie Macmillan, Terry Boot)
Location: The wilds of Germany, Hospital
Status: Private.
Summary: Lisa dreams her own dreams for once, and returns home slightly altered.
Completion: Complete.
The unnaturally pale body of a young witch was sprawled out under a cluster of pine trees in the golden, fading sunlight of the Black Forest, dark robes torn half to shreds. Needles littered the ground, and night was coming quickly. It would have looked rather as if she'd curled up for an afternoon doze if not for the awkward twist of her right leg and the state of her clothing- as it stood, Lisa Turpin was, indeed, sleeping- in a sense.
------------
"Well spotted, Miss Turpin, well spotted indeed!" chirped Professor Flitwick as he waved his wand at the lone Doxy left lingering at the bottom corner of a curtain. Having been highly amused at tales of Lockhart's infamous Pixie Incident, he'd added in a special lesson once a year on stunning spells, "just to be quite sure." Professor Moody had been drilling them on rather more complicated spells in DADA this year, and she was glad for the review.
"Five points," he continued brightly, "and class dismissed. Do stay a moment, won't you?" was directed to her, and she paused, hand on the strap of her book-bag, looking rather Stunned herself. She had never been held after class, not once- not even the time that Terry had blown up their cauldron in Potions-
Staying entirely still as the class filed out, the boy in question shot her a worried glance before exiting after Anthony. Things she could have possibly done to incur the wrath of her Head of House flitted rapidly through her mind- she had snuck out to the edge of the forest to look for centaur hoof-prints with Luna Lovegood, but they hadn't gone in, and it had been nearly a week since-
"Ah, well," said the little man, clearing his throat as he gestured for her to come down to his desk. "Don't be shy, Turpin, there's a good girl- now sit."
She obeyed, feeling rather nervous sitting for the first time in front of her Head's desk, though his bristly whiskers and round, wrinkled face did a great deal to quell her nerves.
"I was rather wondering whether you might like to become a Prefect," he asked matter-of-factly, as if it were the lightest sort of thing in the world. Lisa blinked.
"Er- Professor, aren't we- aren't Prefects assigned over the summer?" she asked, wondering if there were some sort of secret initiation ritual that the general population had never been told of. Surely not, though, Percy Weasley would've burst from the stress of hiding it-
"Well, yes, typically, typically," he said, taking far too long for her tastes to elaborate. He cleared his throat. "I have just a- small touch of hesitation, however-" watching her face fall, he continued quickly, "not that you aren't qualified! No, no, dear, your marks are top-notch, as I'm sure will be your OWL's-" He struggled a bit in his chair, clearly discomfited. Lisa was positively dying to know what on earth he was on about, though she would be lying if she said that the idea of Prefectship didn't strongly appeal-
"It's just that- you don't seem to be very interested in the more- social aspects of young Wizarding life. Now you and Mr. Boot are attached at the hip, I know-" his eyes twinkled in the direction of the doorway, as if he were quite sure that Terry was waiting outside. Not entirely unlikely, thought Lisa, suppressing the smile that threatened to burst. "But that isn't quite what it takes to be a Prefect. You've got to be concerned for the welfare of not only your fellow Ravenclaw, but each and every Hogwarts student-" at this he puffed his chest up, coming rather strongly to resemble an offended walrus- "in fact, in these dark times, you may well be their only line of defense!"
At this, she sat up a bit straighter. Of course she would do anything to defend Hogwarts- even those prats on the Slytherin Quidditch Team if it came to that, though she dearly hoped it wouldn't. She owed everything to this place- to Dumbledore, to the Board, even to the Ministry itself for plucking her out of the indignity of being six in the Wizarding world and half-dozen in the Muggle. If she didn't linger to bat her eyelashes at the Gryffindor boys after Astrology, like a few of her yearmates she could mention, it didn't mean a single thing about her loyalty-
"I'd give my life to defend this castle, Professor," she said, very calmly, after a long, quiet, pause. "Surely you must know."
And, as she met the old Wizard's eyes, Lisa saw the hint of deep shrewdness revealed only when he was working out a particularly difficult bit of spellwork. Feeling a rush of pride in her House, she realized that he had known- that he had needed only to see it the once. Dark times, indeed- the thought that Flitwick had even for a moment questioned what side she was on lit something dark and hot in the pit of her stomach, but she pushed it further down.
"And let's pray you shan't have to!" her Professor replied, brightness returning to his wrinkled features. "Do try not to tell the other students, I haven't the faintest idea what the rest of the Heads have been up to." With that, he winked at her, and ushered her out into the hallway, where Terry was indeed lurking with no great amount of subtlety behind a suit of armor. He rushed up to her, but she swore to herself that she wouldn't utter a word until next year, not even if he begged her- she knew precisely where her loyalties lay.
------------
Brushing rather unceremoniously past a group of twittering Third Years, Lisa caught up with Terry and Michael as they got off the train, engaged in a singularly amusing re-telling of Fred and George Weasley's legendary escape from Umbridge Fifth Year. She hadn't been there, of course, and she rather doubted that any of them had, either, but boys would be boys- Head Girl badge pinned neatly to her robes, she quirked a small smile and tapped Terry lightly on the shoulder.
He threw his arms around her in a warm, silent hug, and she couldn't help but beam a little bit. She'd missed him terribly- they'd met up in Diagon once or twice, but her mother was awfully loath to let her out of the house alone.
"Well done, Lisa," came a voice from behind her- Tracey Davis, they'd done Arithmancy together- with a polite smile, she turned her attention back to Terry. They had reached the doors, however- when she made to turn right, he grabbed the sleeve of her robe.
"Where are you off to, Lis?" he asked, waving off Michael as he headed into the Hall.
"I'm not hungry," she insisted. "I've got to unpack, then go pester Flitwick for an early copy of my schedule- I'll be back down for the First Years-"
Rolling his eyes, Terry grabbed her by the arm and gently pulled her toward the door of the Great Hall. Candles were glowing inside, and she could hear the chattering of a hundred excited voices all at once-
"Don't be ridiculous. Don't you want to know who got Head Boy?"
Now that he mentioned it, she rather did. Frowning at the thought of a wasted hour of gossip, she consented to be herded gently toward the Ravenclaw table. It was diminished- terrifyingly diminished, benches half empty- and Su gone, she thought, with an unpleasant sinking feeling. This is exactly what she'd wanted not to see. And as for the Head Boy, she realized, that was no great mystery- it'd have to be Harry Potter, wouldn't it? He hadn't been a Prefect, it was true, but now, after they all were quite sure that You-Know-Who had returned-
Just as she'd settled herself down next to Luna, who had greeted her warmly, she heard a rather insistent bit of throat-clearing just behind her ear. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a patch of light-brown hair- standing, she turned to face the boy behind her, clad in freshly pressed Hufflepuff robes with a gleaming badge to match her own.
"Ernie Macmillan," he said, holding out a hand. "You'll be Miss Turpin, of course?"
Finding his manner just the tiniest hint amusing, she dutifully shook his hand. Terry elbowed her in the back while studiously pretending to eat a bit of chicken.
"Yes- Lisa Turpin," she said, smiling. "I- congratulations." She recognized him now, of course- they'd had Potions together, and Care of Magical Creatures in the early years, if she remembered right. He'd grown quite taller and a good deal less round.
"And the same," he said, inclining his head a little bit toward her. "Now, what time this week would be best for a first meeting? I was thinking Tuesday just after dinner- give us plenty of time to finish work in the afternoon-"
Lisa blinked. She had only just gotten her badge in the post last week. What if he had defense plans drawn up? Prefect rounds? Good lord, she'd let the entire thing slip- but in the past it had been an almost entirely ceremonial position-
"Yes, Tuesday would be fine for me," she said distractedly. "In our- our study's on the fourth floor, isn't it? East Wing?"
"Yes, that's the one," replied MacMillan, quirking an eyebrow. He must have thought her terribly scatterbrained. "Er- Tuesday, then?" he said, clearly at a loss. She nodded mutely, waving a bit of a goodbye as he retreated back to the Hufflepuff table. As soon as he was out of earshot, Terry erupted in uproarious laughter.
"Oh, well done, Lisa, really. You'd think you'd never spoken to a boy before-"
Settling rather crossly back into her seat, she glanced down to the First Years huddled in terror at the long end of the table. At least they hadn't heard anything. Shooting Terry a rare withering glance, she resolved never to look like a complete prat in front of Ernie Macmillan again. He might have been terribly stuffy, but she would not be out-done by a Hufflepuff- and if the year was shaping up to be anything as dire as last would be, she- and Hogwarts- would need them working together.
--------
"Lisa, wake up-" came an insistent voice. Her fingers clenched around her wand. Her side ached. Where was she... ?
Muttered curses- a painful throbbing in her side- someone had lifted the bedsheets and, as easily as if she were a child, dumped her out onto the floor.
"Ow," was the first thing she said, then, pulling her wand out of the waistband of her denims to make sure it hadn't snapped, "that was hardly necessary."
Pushing herself off the edge of the bed and onto her feet, she glowered at Draco, then reached over to the edge of her tangled-up bedsheets to grab at her sweater. It was cold- they'd been in Morocco for weeks, and she'd never quite become used to the evening chill.
"What is it, then?" she said, rubbing blearily at her eyes as she glanced out their window through the crack in the curtains drawn shut. "Or is it my watch?"
"No," he said briskly, "but I'm rather sure I saw a vampire lurking out on the street. The sun's rising, but that means there'll be others about shortly."
Wide awake now, she cocked her head to the side, peering at him. "Are you quite sure? We covered our tracks- and we haven't any reason they could possibly know about to be out here-"
Draco quirked an eyebrow. Lisa flushed a little.
"I'm not being stupid, it's just- it's very unlikely-"
"You're hurt," he cut her off, "and you haven't been keeping up, not with your wards, not the way you used to. I'm not going to get sprung on in the middle of the night in some foreign city unprepared because you'd rather catch another hour of sleep."
She was taken aback by his reaction, and stood silent for a moment- Draco snapped at her- well, at everyone really- with considerable regularity, but she'd never seen him this genuinely cross with her. To imply that she was weakening- her spellwork had been getting slightly less solid, it was true, but it was still more than powerful enough to protect her- to protect them.
"Fine," was all she said in response, turning her back on him to gather their meager amount of possessions into a pack. Shrinking it, she thought she could hear a small noise of consternation behind her, but the wall cracked- imagination, she thought firmly, and paranoia, and in a minute or so they were packed and Disillusioned and out the door of the Muggle hotel at which they'd spent a scant six hours.
Keeping close behind Draco, she watched him intently as he walked- either he'd been set off by something or he truly did feel that her injury put him in danger, and no amount of unfond rumors from their school days could lessen the humiliation that throbbed in the pit of her stomach. They'd been together for three months now- three grueling months, never more than two days in the same place or two months in the same country, running from the Death Eaters who wanted Draco painfully dead and her as painfully alive. He'd be dead now for sure if it wasn't for her- and you if not for him, came a voice, unbidden, and she frowned and continued walking on.
Draco glanced back to check on her, briefly meeting her eyes- they were unreadable, as usual, but he didn't seem cross any longer. His shoulders had relaxed- he seemed relieved to be out of the hotel, away, she supposed, from danger- but they had put themselves in an even more vulnerable position, in a sense, as any half decent Dark Wizard would see through the charm immediately. What on earth was he playing at?
"I'm surprised at how long you managed to sleep," he said, too lightly, and an inkling of something began to creep up into her chest. "Are you still having those- visions?"
"Yes," she answered, equally light, "but they aren't so bad, anymore. I think that my body is- adjusting." What she might have otherwise used as an opening for further conversation, she left hanging- if Draco intended to communicate to her what exactly he was on about, he'd do it in his own good time.
"I'm glad to hear it. Perhaps we might be able to linger somewhere long enough to actually get some of those "missions" of yours accomplished." Lost in thought, she frowned at the back of his head- and it clicked into place, then. If she hadn't been so dumbfounded she would have rolled her eyes. He hadn't been worried for his own safety- and surely his action as St. Mungo's could have shown you that? whispered the little voice. He thought she wasn't strong enough to fight any more. That if they let themselves fall into the slightest bit of danger, even knowing it, she'd die- perhaps he even doubted his own abilities to protect her, though he'd never made hint of that before.
"One would hope," she said neutrally, and picked up the pace a little bit to walk beside him. It wasn't protocol, but they so rarely followed it as it was- and, a tendril of hope blooming in her chest, she realized that was the only reason they'd been able to accomplish anything at all.
--------
"Up, Lisa- wake up-" his voice was echoing still in her head when she woke, and she shook it off as her eyes struggled open. For a moment she imagined she was on the lawn at Hogwarts- no, wrong trees- wrong trees, wrong mountains, wrong everything-
Pain shot through her leg, like she'd been hit with a Bludger- she raised her head just a fraction off the grass to see it twisted, feel it numb. Damn, she thought, and quickly realized that a bum ankle was the least of her worries- her wand was nowhere to be found.
With a sense of increasing embarrassment, she imagined the scene that would ensue upon stepping into Ollivander's shop and announcing that she had lost his loaner. He wouldn't take money for it, of course- would only level her with that penetrating look and return her old wand, the wand she'd kept at Hogwarts, the one that had flourished a curling "L" in the air when she'd clutched it, tremblingly, at eleven-
Accio Wand, she thought, with as much concentration as she could muster, but it was little use- she had some vague memory of a particularly ugly hag snatching it, claws raking the back of her hand- Lisa didn't care to look just at this moment. She had more than enough scars already.
Groaning lowly, she pushed herself up off the ground and into a kneeling position. It had all gone wrong, then- she knew that there had been Ministry attempts at diplomacy during the war, but she had never heard the details of how badly it had failed, only that it had, and that none further had been made. Her ankle was twisted- the shard throbbed-
At least I can Apparate, she thought, finally, painstakingly, pushing herself to her feet. Back to Stoatshead- it seemed little more than a faintly glowing dream. She would, she realized with a bit of a start, be glad to sit back at the Five Alarm with a bourbon and a cigarette. She must have missed one- no, two Ministry paychecks- it would be something to donate to the hospital after Luna and Ginny patched her up, with enough left to give a good go at Ollivander. He wouldn't withhold her old wand from her- pull yourself together, she thought firmly, looking around the faintly glowing forest one last time. From now on, she'd delegate the damn treasure hunting. Without a partner- alone the voice echoed- she was useless at that sort of thing.
Closing her eyes tightly, she thought of Stoatshead- the corner, just next to the Hospital, with the broken Muggle streetlight-
And she was there, breathing in the thick air of England, home, safe.
Home- safe- she had a rather strong urge to get to Terry's straightaway, but the hopping about on one leg until she'd managed to get to a wall convinced her otherwise. Leg, then Terry, then Draco, then- she stopped herself there.
First things first.