Safe and Sound

Sitting quietly, I listened as the three friends in front of me discussed how we were going to get into Hogsmede. I remained silent, knowing that my opinion didn’t make a difference, because well, I didn’t have one, really. I was not familiar with the town, nor did I care what course of action we were taking. That was Harry’s job, to point where we were going.

The Reagan inside of my mind was yelling at me, which was another reason I was quiet. She was extremely angry that I had made it out of the bank alive, and she was even angrier that we had upset Voldemort. But with that anger their was fear, too. She now knew how serious I was about saving Harry. And that scared her, because she had no such resolve with in her. Back then, I never did.

Old Reagan only clung to one thing, back then. And it was something I still clung to now. Closing my eyes, I pictured his blonde hair, soft as silk flowing through my fingers. I saw his milky white skin lifting my hand to hold it in the morning light, watching as we tangled our fingers together.

My lips burned with the ghost of his lips. They were far too cold now, without Draco being around. My heart ached for him in a way that I never knew that it could. My entire being hurt, my body, my soul. Being a part from Draco was like inhaling arsenic; it would kill me.

Opening my eyes again, I took in a breath. He was alive, still. I knew he was, because if he had been killed, I would have known. I would have felt the severe of his life from mine. My heart would feel it, it would cry out. And that was keeping me going, knowing that for right now, he was alive.

My eyes flickered up when Hermione called my name. She was looking at me with knowing on her face. I wondered if this how she felt, during that time she was away from Ron. Even though they had yet to express their feelings, I knew that Hermione loved Ron passionately.

“Are you ready?” she asked quietly, guilt for intruding on my thoughts creeping into her tone. She was the only one who could understand what it was like to be away from Draco, in a sense. Harry was away from Ginny, but he had too many other problems that blocked that pain. “We’re going to apparate there.”

Standing, I dusted my pants off, reaching out to link my hand with hers. I didn’t have to say anything. There wasn’t much to say. So instead, I let her pull me into apparation, my gut twisting and my ears roaring as we landed in the frigid temperatures of the village.

Instantly alarms began to scream out, resembling what I imagined a dying cat would sound like. We looked at one another alarmed, running to look for somewhere to hide when someone opened a building, barking at us to come inside. Through the darkness, I blinked twice as we ran through the door. The man who had ordered us to come inside looked startlingly alike to Albus Dumbledore.

It cannot be, my mind whispered. I got the send her eyes were narrowing and that she was trembling with fear, because she got very, very quiet. The most quiet she had been since my personality had split.

“Did you see his face?” Hermione whispered, looking at us all. I nodded, looking up the steps which we had come down. So I wasn’t the only one who thought so. That made me thankful that I wasn’t crazy. Sort of. “He looked exactly like Dumbledore.”

“Fools,” the man said, coming down the steps. We all backed up slightly, getting a better look at him as he lit a candle. My surprise was easy too read, I was sure. He truly did look exactly like Dumbledore. A brother, I was almost sure. “Coming here like that. Are you trying to get killed?”

Instantly, conversation was struck up, explanations and such following. But I distracted myself by drifting to the corner, sitting quietly in a chair. My mind began to wander and I closed my eyes, trying as best as I could to see Draco, to picture him.

At first, all I saw was blackness, which was aggravating. I had hoped that if I had loved him enough, that if I had wanted to enough, that I could some how see him, could some how imagine what he was doing.

And then, just like that, I knew. I could feel it; not see it, but I could feel that he was laying in bed. His love ran through me like a river down a mountain, and though there was a profound sadness to his heart, I could feel love there too. Draco was doing the same thing I was: trying to find me.

My heart swelled with pride, and suddenly his did too. I stood straight up in the chair, a cry of happiness on my lips, knowing he felt me. And then it was gone, just like that. The thread that had somehow linked us for a second had vanished, and I was beginning to wonder if I had imagined it.

How did you do that? my other voice demanded, her vow of silence over. Jealousy and hatred laced her tone, and it occurred to me that she was jealous I had felt Draco, and she had not. It was such a strange thing, to be split in two. How did you feel him?

He loves me, I reminded her, a smirk appearing on my lips. I hid it from the rest of the group. They already thought I was crazy, they didn’t need to witness me conversing with myself. Not you. Remember that you are the past. You don’t live here anymore. You’re gone.

Then why can you hear me?

“You are a figment of a curse,” I hissed, agitated. I hadn’t realized I had spoken out loud until everyone looked at me, standing there in the corner muttering to myself like a proper tosser. My eyes scanned them all. “Don’t make me say it.”

Harry nodded and turned back to the other’s as the man, Aberforth who was in fact Albus’ brother. Aberforth said nothing of my sickness before looking at a painting on the wall one last time before turning and leaving. “What was that all about?” Ron asked, looking at me.

“I annoy myself.”

He looked like he wanted to laugh, but Hermione cocked her head to the side, approaching the picture on the wall from which a pretty blonde woman had vanished. We all gathered around it, watching as she returned, a shadowed figure behind her. My heart sped up. “She’s bringing back friend.”

All four of us backed up, raising our wands as the portrait swung open. Though I was not completely aware of what I thought was going to come out of the portrait, Neville Longbottom was not one of them. Bruised and beaten up, Neville looked the same as ever; a cheery grin on his face.

“Boy am I glad to see you Harry,” he chirruped, nodding to us all. His gaze stopped on me and his grin vanished, an emotion that I had never seen on the boys face before. It was contempt, I thought. “Cannot say the same about the other Potter.”

“She’s with us,” Hermione answered before Harry could say anything. She looked at me, giving me a reassuring nod. “Despite what you think of her, she has given up everything to save us. She’s more value to our cause than you know.”

The boy shrug, gesturing for us to follow him. “If you want to invite crazy in, by all means go ahead. Maybe a little bit of crazy is what we need. Glad to have you aboard, Reagan.”

“Yeah,” I muttered, crawling up into the hole in the wall. “I’m thrilled.”