Don't Think I Can Fight This Anymore

Dear Quinn,

I played chess the other day. I was awful at it. I wish you had managed to teach me. Maybe I’m just not smart enough.

I get what you say about the nightmares. How it’s normal and suddenly it turns into something awful, and then you realize it’s more memory than dream. I think we all have those nights when you wake up in an awful sweat, out of breath, and on your guard. And you wake up and you remember every detail, but after you’re back asleep and you wake up again it’s gone. And you wonder what your body and mind are trying to tell you.

Stay strong, kid. We understand more than you think.

All my love,
Evelyn

~*~

Evelyn took Charlie on a tour of London as he’d never seen it. Tearing through roadways and short cuts, stopping now and then to see her favorite attractions. The street performers, the place she found Sherlock, Hyde Park. They drove by the London Eye but didn’t go on out of principal.

Eventually she parked the bike and bought them fish and chips, and they sat side by side on the bike to eat.

“I love fish and chips.” she said enthusiastically, digging into her food.

“Don’t your people call them french fries?” he smiled as she burnt her tongue on her enthusiasm.

“Yes.” she admitted. “But whenever they’re with fish, they’re chips.”

They ate for a moment.

“So, who is Vikram?” he asked finally.

She laughed. “Oh, sorry. So...you were in the Order. You know about the network.”

“No. I don’t know a lot about what went on here. It was too risky to send me any information abroad.”

“Right. Well. It was this idea of Dumbledore’s that Tracy and Kevin did most of the leg work for setting it up, though it was basically there already. It was an information network. Death Eaters never once considered the fact that undesirables like muggles and squibs might actually have ears and overhear them now and then. So we set out making friends. Whenever someone heard something, they’d get in touch.”

She ate another piece of burning hot fish and he asked, “And Vikram was part of that?”

“Vikram’s a squib. Very handy, he knew what to look out for. Now I pay him to house my bike.”

“You had regular muggles working for you?”

She snorted. “God, no. We had homeless muggles working for us. You’d be amazed the things they hear, and the things they believe. There’s a great beast under London, you know.”

“A what?”

“That’s what they say. Some giant hog or something.”

“You’re making that up.”

“I’m not! They swear it’s true.”

“And what? Angels living on the banks of the Thames?”

“No, but they tell me some Roman soldiers are down there.”

He nudged her as she giggled. “You’re such a liar!”

“I’m not!”

“I’ll bet you’ll believe just about anything.”

She smiled. “Maybe. It was different for you, you know. You were born into magic. For me, being told magic was real, and I could do it...it made anything possible.”

“Yet you still ride around London on a motorbike.”

“Well, she may have a few enchantments on her.” She grinned. “Don’t tell Percy. He’ll turn me in.”

Charlie winced. “I am so sorry about that.”

“Don’t worry about it. A lot of people think that way.”

They ate quietly for a moment.

“I like talking to you like this.” He said.

“Like what?”

“Side by side. It’s kind of like writing you a letter.”

She laughed. “Yes. I like it too. I don’t have to look into your eyes.”

“What’s wrong with my eyes?”

“Nothing’s wrong with them!”

“You don’t like my eyes!”

“I do. And that’s the problem! They’re too blue! And I feel like they make me tell you the truth!”

She shut up then, slightly embarrassed.

“Evelyn.”

She turned to look at him now.

“Is there really a beast under London?”

She laughed loudly. “That’s what you use your power on? A mythical beast under London?”

“Why not? I can take it to live with the dragons.”

She smiled and shook her head. They ate in silence for a bit longer.

“So, what do you think of my London?” she asked.

“Great bloody hogs aside?” He smiled, tilting his face towards the sun. “I like it. I like it better than I usually do.”

“Why don’t you like London?”

“It’s crowded, noisy. You can’t see the stars at night.”

“I’ll bet you’ve got a nice little cabin out in the middle of the woods like some wild man.”

“Well, it’s not in the middle of the woods.”

She shook her head and looked at him, “I don’t know. I love the outdoors, but I’m a city girl at heart. It’d be too quiet for me.”

“Maybe you should give it a try.”

“Maybe.”

Her heart sank then, as she looked behind him. That flash of another life, trying to drag her back in. How ironic, that she had just been telling him about the network. And here they were, knocking on fate’s door. This time the pea green poncho was on a sickly looking young man. Evelyn reached the end of her fish and chips, and crumpled the newspaper.

“I’m going to throw this out.” she said, standing. “You done?”

He nodded and handed her his paper as well. He turned to watch her walk over to the bin and throw out the greasy papers. Then she dug in her pocket and produced a muggle note, and held it out to a young man sitting on the street. When she walked back towards him, she was shoving something into her pocket.

“Ready?” she asked him.

“What was that in your pocket?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Not now. Put your helmet on. Ever see the changing of the guard?”

~*~

Evelyn was standing in a large open tent. George and Sylvia danced the waltz in the middle of the empty dance floor. Sylvia had a wreath of orange flowers braided into her blonde hair. Evelyn turned and found Charlie, and smiled. He reached for her, but instead of taking her hands to dance he dug his fingers into the skin under her clavicle.

It didn’t hurt as he reached in and pulled the draco constellation from her skin. A baby dragon bloomed from her chest, sleeping peacefully in his arms. It was jet black with a yellow belly, covered in thorns and razor sharp scales. It made Evelyn think of Smaug in The Hobbit, one of her favorite childhood books. Charlie sat on the floor with the dragon, and the dragon’s eyes flipped open.

It took a sudden turn as the dragon reared it’s skally head up and bit Charlie in the jugular. Evelyn screamed but it was too late - the dragon was walking away and Charlie was bleeding out on the floor, already dead. His blue eyes wide open in shock.

Someone grabbed Evelyn’s arm and she was wrenched around. She was standing in the locked room again. Her wand arm was free and she cried, “Crucio!”

The innocent woman bound to the chair screamed and screamed. And Evelyn’s wand came down again and again. There was a knock on the door and Evelyn slowly exited the room, then ran for the the trash can in the corner. An old man like a lion stood over her.

“Women.” Rufus Scrimgeour scowled.

The former Prime Minister morphed into her father.

“Of course you’ve been discharged. Women have no place in the army.”

Evelyn awoke with a start, sitting bolt upright. She took deep shaky breaths, hiding her face in her hands. Her cheeks were wet, she had been crying.

A hand reached out and touched her on the back.

Evelyn instinctively grabbed her wand off the nightstand and whipped around, pointing the tip to the broad muscular chest -

“Evelyn! It’s me!”

Evelyn blinked and tossed her wand back onto the nightstand. “Jesus. Charlie. I’m...I’m so sorry.”

Charlie sat up and rubbed her back. “You alright?”

She took deep breaths. “I will be.”

“What happened?”

“Bad dream.” She turned and slid out of the bed. “I’ll be right back.”

Evelyn went to the bathroom and opened the medicine cabinet. She rummaged through and freed a small bottle labeled in her own hand. Evelyn shook it and grimaced, then swallowed what was left of its contents. She tossed the bottle into the garbage.

Evelyn shut the cabinet and leaned on the sink to study her reflection. She was pale and her hair was messy. In the mirror she saw her draco constellation under her bra strap. She had chosen it because of the myth of the dragon that had guarded Hera’s golden apples. That was before she had been a monster.

She didn’t get dreams often any more, but maybe that was because she drank most nights. That tended to shut her brain down. She and Charlie hadn’t drank tonight. But now she was out of emergency potion, and she’d have to make more.

The potion had started to take effect. Her fingers tingled. She walked back across the hall to the bedroom, and slid back under the covers with Charlie. He wrapped an arm around her tiny frame.

“You want to talk about it?” he whispered.

“Not really.” Her limbs felt heavy. “You wouldn’t like me if I told you.”

“I don’t think that’s true.

But she didn’t hear. She was already in a dreamless sleep.

~*~

The next morning both Charlie and Evelyn were up and showered and sitting down for breakfast before George and Sylvia were even awake. Evelyn went the extra mile and quickly made some eggs, bacon and toast to go with their coffee and orange juice. Sherlock got a whole plate to himself.

Charlie knew better than to bring up her nightmare. She scanned the Prophet as if searching for something. Today she had dressed in a white sweater dress, thick grey stockings, and shiny black heels. Her makeup was perfect. It was like a suit of armour.

“Evelyn, what did the homeless man give you yesterday?”

Evelyn looked at him, and he knew she was considering lying to him. But she didn’t.

“It was a note from the network.” she said. “Here. You can read it, if you like.”

She pulled the note out of her purse - she had been carrying it around with her. She handed it to Charlie and he unfolded it.

You aren’t being careful. Be careful. Tell Trip to watch himself, and stop spying for the government. All of your lives are at stake. We don’t know who is behind this.

“What does that mean?”

She turned the page of her paper, and carried on like she was giving him the weather report, or the Quidditch scores.

“They’ve been sending me warnings lately. They say someone is asking questions about our unit. It’s probably nothing to worry about.”

Charlie noticed how hard her eyes were as she spoke. She was worried. But she didn’t want to make a big deal of it.

The shop door opened and George walked in. “Hey Evs. Charlie.”

“Hey.” Evelyn looked up. “Where’s Sylvia?”

“Sleeping in. Oh, wow, you made bacon? You must have done something right, Charlie.”

Evelyn rolled her eyes as George sat. An owl swooped in the open back door and dropped a letter on Evelyn’s breakfast. She sighed and opened it.

“Oh, crap.” she mumbled.

“What’s wrong?”

“Jackie’s sick. I have to run the kitchen today.” She sighed and stood. “Fuck.”

“Language, Evelyn.” George smirked, dumping ketchup on his eggs.

“Shit. Dickbag. Motherfucker.”

Charlie had finished his breakfast. “I should get back home. See Mum.”

“When do you leave?”

“Tomorrow morning.”

Evelyn leaned over and kissed Charlie, holding him there for a moment. George rolled his eyes and focused on his breakfast.

“See you next time.” Evelyn smiled.

“I’ll write.”

“I know.”

Charlie said goodbye again, shook his brother’s hand, and left. George raised his eyebrows pointedly at his best friend.

“None of your business, George.” she said flatly, heading for the kitchen to get the prep work started.

"He's my brother!" George called after her.

"You've got more than enough of those! You can share him!"

George rolled his eyes. Sherlock jumped up on Evelyn’s abandoned chair to finish her breakfast.