The Dreamer's Curse

The Parting

Chapter 33

Consciousness was elusive. I could hear the others’ comings and goings, but my mind was shut. Its defences were up, and no singular person could enter my fortress. Even Draco, who was at my bedside from dawn ‘til dusk, could do nothing to call me back from the darkness. Still, he held my hand, and his hand was my sole connection to the physical world. 

My mind floated in and out of strange dreams. There were moments when I thought I heard Jasper’s carefree laughter fill my ears, but the memory was gone as soon as it had come. 

There in the darkness, my chest was filled with a peace brought about by a rich melodious voice. I waited for the memory to leave me, but it did not. Aslan was singing a hopeful song, one that I wished I could have basked in for eternity.

“There’s a door, isn’t there? From this realm to the In Between Place? The door I went through?”

I waited in silence, waited for his voice—for his affirmation. 

The music died down, and still I waited.

“You are not wrong, Jane Kingsleigh,” he responded. “A path cannot lead to nowhere.”

“That’s why you brought me here—to watch Peter Pevensie shut the door!”

“Some doors,” he said somewhat absently, “are meant to remain shut.”

His words carried with them a sort of finality, one that I knew was true beyond question. I felt his presence depart like a gust of wind being sucked into a far off tunnel. 

The same gust of wind blew me the other way, forcing me back into consciousness. Faint whispers grew louder as dreams and memories gave way to reality where faint whispers hovered over me. I pried my eyes open, their lids stuck together like honey. 

“No, keep it,” Draco insisted, “you need it more than I do.”

“No, you swore you’d protect her, and you can’t do that without your wand. Take it.”

“Harry, Jane can take care of herself. And speaking of my own life, we both know your task is far more important. Besides, didn’t you say my wand cooperates with you? The others might not, so take mine.”

“But—”

“Hang on, Jane’s stirring. I think she’s coming to. Jane? Jane?”

I coughed in response, my raspy throat still too lazy to grant my words safe passage.

“I’ll get Fleur.” 

I sat up with great difficulty, and looked about me. 

“Where am I?” I asked, my lips chapped and my tongue dry.

“Shell Cottage,” Draco said, his voice taut and a frown etched upon his face. “You’ve been sleeping for two days.”

“Well,” I said lightly, “sleep might well be the highlight of my recent days.”

Draco relaxed his brow and smiled. “Glad to know you haven’t lost your sense of humour.”

I threw my head back in laughter. Bill and Fleur’s cottage was so near the sea that I could smell the salty ocean as I laughed. It was euphoric, especially after all the stale air I’d inhaled from the Malfoy cellars. The air sent a strange clarity to my head, but though my mind was lucid, my body was not as responsive.

I lifted my hand from bed, and rested it against Draco’s lap. He sat next to me, all angles and edges. Health had left his form. Draco looked like a living ghost. His lips curled into one of his mischievous smirks, the kind a child makes when you ask him why he hasn’t taken his bath yet.