Underage Magic Part II: In Defence of a Loved One Dorian lay on his bed, curled around Tùtù, crying softly. He didn’t know what to do about the incident that had occurred the day before. Mama had told Matthieu off very badly for what he had said he would do to Tùtù but Dorian was still scared that he might try. The task of protecting his bunny seemed insurmountably huge. Seven had felt quite big when he had turned it last month but now it didn’t seem quite so impressive. He was still smaller than Matthieu because even when he got bigger, Matthieu did too. Matthieu was nearly nine. That was two more than seven. Two was not a lot when it came to something like candies, but two years was a very long time. Being two years bigger than someone was lots and lots bigger. Dorian knew that he was not strong enough to keep Matthieu from hurting Tùtù. And that worried him. It had also led onto another worry; if Tùtù got hurt, would it be his fault? He knew that Matthieu was being mean and that he was the one who would be guilty of the actual crime if Tùtù’s ears got pulled off. But there was a simple way to keep that from happening, and that was to make sure that Matthieu and the bunny never crossed paths again. But that meant giving him up. Putting him somewhere where Matthieu couldn’t reach him also meant not being able to see him himself. The night before, Dorian had tried burying Tùtù in the bottom of his drawer, under all his sweatshirts but he had missed him too much and hadn’t been able to fall asleep without him. He had caved in, creeping the agonising distance of two or three adult-sized paces across his bedroom, with as much care as he could. It had felt like a very long way, both because it was dark, and because he kept thinking at every step that Mama would hear him being out of bed and be cross, or that Matthieu would come to investigate the noise and find him with Tùtù.
Dorian couldn’t bear the thought of giving up Tùtù. But he also couldn’t stand the thought that someone he loved might end up in danger because of something he had done, and he felt like he was being selfish.
“You love being with me too though, don’t you?” he whispered to the bunny. Mama’s animation charm had worn off, so Dorian had to make the toy nod in agreement himself. “We will find somewhere. Somewhere where we can go and play together and it will be nice,” he promised. There had to be somewhere like that. The world was full of surprises. There would be a safe, happy place, where clouds didn’t just look like cotton candy but they really were, and where only nice people could go, and he and Tùtù would just stay there and play forever. His heart twinged. He could not run away and leave Mama and Émilie… And, whilst he might persuade his sister to come, he knew that Mama had Grown Up Responsibilities, and she probably wouldn’t agree to leave Matthieu, however mean he was. Dorian would have to find a nice place, and Tùtù could live there. Dorian wouldn’t be able to stay but he could visit. They could still play together. Just he would have to come back by himself. But he could be brave and he could do that… He cried harder into the bunny’s ears, wondering why he had to do this. This world was stupid, and he didn’t want to stay in it. He didn’t want to be a part of any world that said boys couldn’t have stuffed bunnies, or that made him choose between being with someone he loved and knowing that they were safe. That wasn’t a reasonable choice. And nor was choosing between the different people he loved. Why was everything so unfair?
He heard the door open, and he turned, jerking upright when he saw it was Matthieu, placing himself squarely between his brother and his bunny.
“Now what are you crying about, chochotte?”
“Nothing,”, Dorian muttered, wiping his eyes.
“Don’t let Mama see. She was cross with you for crying yesterday.”
“Only because Mèimei was sleeping.”
“Maybe. Maybe she doesn’t like you being a crybaby either. You told on me!” Matthieu snapped.
Dorian hesitated. This was clearly a crime, in Matthieu’s book, but he was hardly going to apologise given what Matthieu had done and said. And it occurred to him now that telling had been the smart move.
“Well. If you hurt Tùtù now, Mama will know you did it, and you’ll be in even more trouble,” he pointed out.
Matthieu gave an angry snarl, and dived towards the bed, but Dorian felt his own back suddenly against something solid and knew that there was a shield charm now between Matthieu and Tùtù. But his brother was still moving forward and then Dorian found himself being grabbed by his shirt front and thrown angrily to the floor. His knees and hands hit, and they hurt, but the cry he gave was more a of shock than anything. Matthieu had teased him, had kicked over his crayons, had pushed him when they played. But they weren’t playing. And Matthieu had just hurt him on purpose. And he felt his arm being twisted behind his back and his brother’s weight pushing down on him.
“If you tell tales on me again, I will make you sorry,” he threatened. Dorian whimpered slightly.
“Children?” their mother’s voice called up from the foot of the stairs, having heard the thump but not the shout, “What’s going on up there?”
Dorian felt Matthieu’s grip tighten slightly. He hesitated for a moment, panicked, and unsure what to do.
“I dropped my dictionary. Sorry Mama,” he called back. And then, to his relief, he felt his brother’s hands loosen. The weight lifted off him. But his relief was short lived. He turned to find Matthieu smiling. Matthieu’s smiles weren’t really comforting or nice the way other people’s were. And right now, his face looked like that of a shark that had just found a tasty little fish to gobble up.
“That’s better,” Matthieu smiled. But Dorian was not convinced. He did not feel like things were going to be better. It felt like they were about to get a whole lot worse.