Bill Pendry (william_pendry) wrote in lightning_war, @ 2008-07-30 10:15:00 |
|
|||
Current mood: | ill |
Early Monday evening, 14 September 1942, in a room at St Mungo's hospital...
Bilius Weasley blinked tiredly. There didn't seem to be anyone in his room, and that was new, and there also didn't seem to be anything in the air, on his skin, in his hair or whispering anything, and that was also new. He was really tired and it was really hard to breathe and he felt warm, and that had been going on forever, except when he felt really cold instead.
A curtain pulled back and there was a few footsteps and the curtain drew again and more footsteps and then his Uncle Isaac — who was really actually his Dad's cousin Isaac Diggory, Dad had wanted them to be very clear on that stuff, family was important, Bilius was proud of himself for remembering — was sitting next to his bed and Bilius tried to smile at him and whispered "Polio?"
"Sort of," Isaac replied. "Pneumonia. Because your lungs are already weak from the polio." He was relieved to find Bilius coherent, Doctora Allison had said that this would happen soon but had left him under the care of the journeymen for the evening, which surprised him, although they assured him that she could be reached if needed. "You're in St Mungo's, I came to school and brought you here this morning."
"I remember that," Bilius whispered firmly. He'd wanted Edmund to look after him rather than all the girl healers at school, they were nearly all girls, and Ed had refused and made him spend the night in the infirmary and then Uncle Isaac had brought him to the hospital and then there had been stuff on his skin all day, which he knew wasn't real, but only just. "Is Da-... Mum here?"
"Not yet," Isaac said. At least Bilius remembered the truth, even in this state. He'd been asking for his father in his delirium. "She's on her way, later tonight I think."
"Am I going to die?" Bilius asked.
Isaac paused. "That's the question," he said.
"The... question?" Bilius asked. They were doctors. Doctors told you that kind of thing.
"You might die," Isaac said. "You're very sick and it's going to get worse. But... they say you have a kind of choice."
"A choice?" Bilius said. He frowned. He had thought, or dreamed, earlier that day that he was already dead. It had been worse than he'd imagined before.
"I don't know if you're well enough to understand this," Isaac said, spinning his hat in his hand. "But the doctors said we need to try. So. There's a story. And the Malfoys are in it."
"I hate the Malfoys," Bilius muttered reflexively. "There's one of 'em here. A doctor. In disguise."
"His name is now Dr Yvon Malfoy," Isaac told him. "When you and your father met him, his name was Dr Artisson. You remember him? He remembers you."
"They always seem nice," Bilius said, remembering Dr Artisson, who he had tried not to think about since he had found out he was a Malfoy, because Dr Artisson was just like a friend, except who was a grown-up, and it had hurt Bilius a lot when he had found out from his Dad that Artisson had been pretending the whole time. Like Malfoys did. That they were nice people, and they were your friend.
Isaac sighed. Talking with Bill was very difficult; it felt like meeting one of Marcus's lies around every corner, lies that he and the family hadn't even known Marcus was telling. And he couldn't have every discussion that he and Bill needed to have right now, they had to have just one. And maybe, he suddenly realised, Bill needed to let go of some of it on his own, if everything he said was challenged then he'd just back further away into his father's teachings.
"Dr Malfoy was very ill over the last couple of days," Isaac said gravely and patted Bill's hand, deciding that the only course of action was to respond to Bill as if he'd said 'he was my best friend'. "He nearly died. But now he's better. And I've been writing to his mother, and talking to him and some of the other doctors here, and he's been sick for the same reason that you are sick." This wasn't strictly true, Isaac knew, there was some other story to Yvon's illness, but true enough for Bill.
"He's...?" Bilius had so many questions he couldn't decide on one, especially when everything was so confusing anyway.
"He's well, fortunately," Isaac said. "He was just very sick for a few days. Like we hope you will be."
"All right," Bilius said but added defensively "But what's he got to do with us anyway?"
Isaac smiled sadly. "A long time ago," he said. "A long time ago, we think a Malfoy and a Weasley had a fight, a terrible one. And ever since then, some terrible things have happened over and over again, to Malfoys and to Weasleys. Because each of them set a curse on the other."
Bilius's eyes widened. "They cursed us?"
"Justine Malfoy, who is long since dead, laid a curse," Isaac corrected him. Getting him to understand the other half of the story was going to be the hard bit. "And someone in our family cursed them."
Bilius swallowed uncomfortably. "But nothing bad ever happens to them."
"And Dr Malfoy, your friend Dr Artisson, got sick in the last few days, and nearly died, because the curse was helping the sickness," Isaac said as if Bilius hadn't spoken. "And you got sick yesterday, and you're very very sick, because the curse is helping your illness."
"And I'm going to die?" Bilius asked, and Isaac was terribly sad but at the same time pleased to see that the boy was frightened of that.
"And, you get a choice," Isaac said, very firmly. "You get a choice. Like Dr Artisson got," he added, not letting himself stop and recall that what he was going to let the boy infer was almost certainly wrong. "To die, or to stay. And end the curse. You get a choice."
"A choice..." Bilius echoed. Like Dr Artisson?
"A choice," Isaac said firmly. "If you live through this, the doctors here say that you have a chance to end it. To do what your father didn't live to do."
"A choice..." Bilius said again in a dazed way and smiled vaguely at the space between himself and Isaac. "I'm really tired..."
"Because you're sick," Isaac said. He reached out and stroked Bilius's hair. "You'll be better soon. Your Mum is on her way. And the doctors are looking after you. And everything will be all right." At least, he reflected miserably, they would be if Bilius had understood him, and if he'd made the right choice.
bydegrees and william_pendry