The Lewis House 40 страница

"They'll be flattened," she muttered into her mug, coming to the sofa. "I don't care who the captain is."

"You didn't see Oliver drilling everyone."

"The Bats have been first or second in the league for ten years," Ginny returned. "Yes, that's right, I know what goes on - don't give me that look like you're so shocked I keep up. Lift your head." She put her tea on their makeshift table and sat on the end cushion, and when Harry lay his head back down, he had her lap for a pillow. It had become so comfortable with her in such a short time, he marveled, letting his head loll against her stomach. She was always so warm, and she always seemed to fit, somehow - even the way her thigh curved under his neck was just right; and Harry's pulse quickened when she put her fingers in his hair. "What a mess," she said softly, brushing it away from his face.

"Cut it if you like, but it just grows back."

Ginny laughed. "I wouldn't cut it. It suits you."

"And on my right is Catriona McCormack, who played for Scotland no less than thirty-six times - your daughter is playing Keeper again this year for Portree, is that right?"

"Meaghan's still Keeper, that's right."

"And speaking of Keepers, we've got one hell of a man out there today for the Chudley Cannons - Oliver Wood, previously Puddlemere's top reserve player, actually left Puddlemere United at the end of last season and deliberately defected to the Chudley Cannons, famously the worst team in the League. Wood's old coaches are mystified, and he's kept his motivations completely under wraps."

"Ah, it's no mystery, lad. One too many Bludgers to the head, eh, Morgan?"

"I'd say so, McCormack."

"Yes, perhaps brain damage is partly responsible. But according to a statement he made this morning, Wood seems very confident - he's even changed the team motto back to 'We Shall Conquer'. What d'you think of that, ladies?"

"Balls."

"Horse shite."

"No, don't hold back - tell us how you really feel."

Ginny laughed. “He sounds like Lee."

Harry's mouth fell open; he sat up halfway and strained to hear. "I knew he sounded familiar!" he exclaimed.

"Really?"

"Shh - wait -"

"Well, we'll find out today just whether or not the Chudley Cannons are back in shape after a one hundred and six year absence from the running. They've got their work cut out for them against the Ballycastle Bats -"

"If they can stay alive for five minutes, I'll eat my cleats."

"That's Gwendolyn Morgan, ladies and gentlemen, and you'll all enjoy hearing her eat her cleats, I'm sure."

There was a profound snort. "Bit biased toward the Cannons, are we?"

"Let's just say I've got faith in Oliver Wood."

"It's him!" Ginny shrieked. "That's so cool!"

"Yeah, it is," Harry agreed, and tried to lie down again. But there was a sudden crack! that had nothing to do with magic, and he sat up again immediately, the ache in his back having just increased tenfold. "Ow," he muttered, reaching around himself to try and rub the painful area.

"Was that you?" Ginny asked in alarm, scooting up behind him and putting her fingers on the exact spot that Harry was trying to reach. "Ugh, your muscles are horribly tense.”

"You can tell that?" he asked in surprise, dropping his hand and letting her feel her way around his spine.

"Just lean forward a minute and rest your elbows on your knees." She knelt up behind him on the cushion, but otherwise he couldn’t see what she was doing. "Now relax as much as you can. No, relax, Harry. Take a deep breath.... yes. There. And actually, if you could drop your head, too, and just let it hang – good.”

Harry slumped forward and waited for his next instructions.

"And here come the Ballycastle Bats. Captain Michelle Ravel leads her team onto the pitch - and they do look strong - there's that incredible Seeker of theirs, Hull Huntington - in the six years he's played for Ballycastle, he has caught the Snitch all but four times."

"Can't imagine he'll miss today."

"Though I have to say I wouldn't mind seeing it go to the Cannons' Seeker."

"And here she comes - Maureen Knight, formerly the Bats' reserve, facing her old teammates at her first game. Knows just what she's up against. She played for Huntington once, when his wife was in labor -"

"And she missed the Snitch."

"Plowed herself good, though."

"Yes, a fascinating player, and another defector. She left the Bats at the same time Oliver Wood left Puddlemere, and joined the Cannons for her own untold reasons."

"Lad, it's like this - she wanted a bit of time in the spotlight, and there was no one rivaling her for it in Chudley."

"Not exactly true. She had first rate competition."

Harry tensed, waiting for it. Ginny touched his arm.

"Wood first offered that Seeker position to Harry Potter, who declined, as I understand it." Lee let out a sort of growl. "And let me tell you, if I get my hands on him, I'll wring his bloody neck."

Laughter followed that remark. "Close mates with Harry Potter, are you?"

"Something like that. But back to Maureen Knight - watch her warm up, there - she's got very interesting form, and I reckon she spent quite some time studying Fitz Colbert's methods..."

“I wish they'd stop talking and play." Ginny's hand traveled up his arm and stopped on his shoulder. “Are you hurt right here?” She dropped her fingertips lightly on the place where his right shoulder met his neck. "I get a feeling that..." She pressed down. "This isn't from the dragons."

Harry looked around at her, surprised. "It's been sore on and off since I fell off my broom third year,” he admitted. “How can you tell that?”

Ginny smiled slightly. "It's just something I'm learning in class. Do you mind if I practice?"

"No, go on."

"Okay." But rather than continuing, she rubbed her forehead with her free hand and shut her eyes.

"Ginny?" Harry turned around more fully and studied her face. Ever since his first day on dragon back - since she'd rolled away in pain - she had seemed under the weather. She certainly hadn't touched him like that since the first time, and he wondered if she was still feeling ill. They had kissed a little, and they held each other often, but she always seemed to be... protecting herself. He could hardly blame her, he supposed, the way he'd jumped on her. "Are you -"

"I'm okay," she answered, before he could ask the question. She opened her eyes and took her hand down. "I stayed up too late, I had to make up an Astronomy lesson. Anyway, turn around, I want to try something."

He looked doubtfully at her, but she ignored him and reached for his shoulders; as soon as she touched him, he gave in and slumped forward again.

"And the Quaffle is up! The season has officially begun! There's Chaser Firoza Newland showing great skill -"

"Never seen her before."

"Third reserve for the Wanderers, last year, and they were second to last."

"Whatever she was before, Oliver Wood certainly seems to have put her through her paces - look at her fly! And she passes to Cole Kerry, who seems to have it well in hand - but not for long! Ravel's not captain of the league's best team for nothing, that looked like taking candy from a baby - and she's halfway down the pitch - where are the Beaters at a time like this, damn it? She's headed straight for the goal hoops! Block her, Oliver! Give her hell! YES! He's blocked it!"

"Well!" There were chuckles. "There's objectivity for you."

"Would you take this off?" Ginny asked suddenly, tugging at the back of Harry's thick jumper. "I can't... Well, I can't get a proper grip."

Harry didn't think twice. He quickly pulled the jumper - which Mrs. Weasley had made for him - over his head, and then tugged his T-shirt back down. When Ginny’s fingers alighted again on his spine, he shivered involuntarily. Her touch was now much closer to his skin. "Is that better?" he asked, his voice breaking slightly.

"Yes that's - better." He wondered if she was blushing. It sounded like she might be. It was a long moment before he heard her breathe deeply and settle into the cushion. Her hands spread out across his shoulder blades and moved slowly down his back, until her fingers rested in the center of his lower spine.

“That’s horrible right there,” she muttered. “And it’s deep. Can you feel it?”

Harry concentrated, but felt nothing. "No."

Ginny pressed down slightly. “Then this might really hurt," she said. "I'm sorry, Harry. Grit your teeth."

Harry felt a thrill of apprehension, and wondered what she was about to do. He didn’t have long to wonder.

Gripping the sides of his lower back with her fingers, Ginny began to dig her thumbs into the muscles on either side of his vertebrae, in the center of his lower back, where previously, he had felt nothing.

“What the –” Harry gasped, convulsing.

“Shh. Relax.”

He tried, but it was near impossible. Whatever she was doing was the most pleasurable thing that had ever been done to him. Which was insane, when he took into account how much pain it was causing. It was like something being woken that didn’t want to wake. He was feeling muscles he didn’t know he had, and they had obviously been lying dormant, numb with terrible tension. Every dig that Ginny made with her thumbs seemed to unearth more of it and instead of becoming shallower it became more intense. He hung his head further, and bent lower with every push, until he lay almost completely forward on his legs.

“See,” she said, her voice coming in little digs, with the movements of her hands. She sounded out of breath. “Sometimes when – the pain is – really bad – it tends to – hide.” She switched from her thumbs and began to rub the heels of her hands into his back, hard.

“How do you know?” he mumbled hoarsely, from his knees.

“It’s just – the way it is. Crookshanks had a – thorn buried – way up in his paw and he – didn’t even – know it.” She switched suddenly, and began to roll her knuckles deeply into his tissue.

Harry gasped again. It felt unbelievable. “Where did you learn how to do this?” he asked, hoping that if he just kept talking, then he wouldn’t give into it completely. He didn’t know what would happen if he did. The Quidditch game was still going - someone had just scored on Oliver - but he couldn't remember why it mattered. Her fingers kneaded all the muscles on either side of his vertebrae, working from the very bottom, and climbing one by one to the top, massaging in small circles that made Harry groan.

“Shh - just try to - breathe."

Harry tried to hold onto some shred of his sanity, but something that had been frozen inside him was thawing and flooding his senses. He shut his eyes and felt the unbearable rhythm of her hands. She took him by the shoulders and pressed the muscles there; he noticed how tender she was with the right side, where she had discovered his old Quidditch injury. For no reason he could name, Harry felt a sob fighting to get out of him.

"You're killing me," he rasped, and turned his head to kiss her fingers. He felt entirely unhinged - lightheaded - instinct drove him to reach a hand over his shoulder and search her out; he slipped his palm behind her neck and pulled her closer. Ginny leaned forward in instant reply and slid her cheek against his, her breathing audible and uneven. She made a soft, almost frightened noise, and pressed her body against his back.

"The Snitch is out! It's still early in the game, but the Seekers are racing for it - FOUL! A Bludger right into the crowd - looks like the Bats are getting nervous, if they're bumphing in game one! And the Snitch is gone again -"

Harry couldn't have cared less. He turned to Ginny, seeking her mouth, pulling her into his arms. He wanted her so badly that it was painful, and she seemed to feel it too - she whispered his name in a way that sent shockwaves through him, and allowed him to gather her up without resistance. Harry's whole body burned - it had been weeks since she had yielded to him like this - forgetting what had happened the last time, he opened her lips with a deep kiss.

Dimly, he noticed that something was different. She made no noise. Instead of arching toward him, her body seemed to slump against his shoulder. And though she kissed him back at first, her mouth went suddenly passive beneath his. Her head fell back. Her jaw slackened.

Harry pulled away and stared at her in horror. She had passed out. He tried to prop her up, but her body fell to the side.

"Ginny?" he pled. She didn't answer. The circles beneath her eyes looked twice as deep as he had previously noticed, and her pallor wasn't only pale; it was slightly blue. Something ice-cold gripped Harry's heart.

"Ginny," he said anxiously, laying her on the sofa and pulling his wand. "Ginny, come on, wake up. Ennervate!"

She did not respond.

"Wake up," he fretted, feeling for her breath. It was there, but it was very shallow and hardly comforting. "Come on, open your eyes." He felt for her pulse, and found that it was slow. He had a sudden, horrible memory of finding her tiny figure cold and half-dead on the floor of the Chamber of Secrets. "Wake up," he begged, "please wake up - what's the matter with you?" he yelled stupidly, as if she was going to answer. He pointed his wand at her again. "Ennervate!"

Nothing had ever frightened Harry so much as her total stillness. He knew it was pointless to reach out and shake her, but he did it anyway. He tried again and again to wake her with magic, but it didn't help. She continued to breathe, but just barely, and after five minutes that felt like an hour Harry fully panicked. He ran across the room to the fireplace, feeling a surge of terrible guilt for leaving Ginny's side, even to get help. In seconds, he had produced a fire and thrown powder into it.

"LUPIN LODGE," he roared at the flames, as if they were responsible for Ginny's condition. He stuck his head in. "REMUS!" he hollered, as soon as he saw the familiar front room before him. "REMUS, HURRY!"

Remus appeared in seconds, his wand out, his posture alert. He wasted no time. "You need me there?" he demanded.

"YES!" Harry shouted.

Two seconds later, Remus stood beside him at the Notch and, as if he had known in advance what he would find, he hurried directly to Ginny's side. "Go to my house," he instructed Harry in a quick, grim voice. "Get Ginny's satchel, I need something from it."

Harry had never done anything so quickly. He was back in his own house in seconds, holding Ginny's school bag and wondering how he'd managed not to splinch himself.

Remus dug through the bag and removed an enormous book. Harry barely read the embossed words on the cover - Empathy in Sorcery - before Remus had opened it from the back. He skimmed the index, turned to another page, and nodded curtly. "Accio Eurycoma Longifolia!" he said, and a phial sailed into the room.

Harry caught it, and recognized the curled, dried leaves as the same ones he'd used in school to make Reviving Draughts.

"Seed pod," Remus ordered, and when Harry had handed one to him, he crushed it in his fingers, pried Ginny's mouth open, and dropped it in. He pulled his wand and produced a cup of water. "Lift up her head."

Harry lifted Ginny's head with extreme care, and when the water had been administered, he propped her up a bit more, sitting behind her to cradle her head against his chest. He felt her breath rise and fall in shallow increments. "What's wrong with her?" he asked tensely. "Should we take her to St. Mungo's?"

"Only if she doesn't come around in a minute or so." Remus watched Ginny with narrowed eyes. "As for what's wrong with her - she's going to have to tell you that."

Harry was about to protest, when a spluttering noise and a sudden wetness on his hands made him forget his questions. Ginny was coughing violently, spattering all three of them with water and bits of crushed seed. Harry held onto her until she seemed capable of sitting up on her own - and even then, he didn't let go.

"Are you all right?" he asked. "What do you need?"

Ginny moaned and leaned forward, as if to get away from him. She had one hand on her stomach, and was trying to wipe her mouth with the other. "What's going on?" she asked weakly. "What just happened?"

"You passed out," Harry told her, and he realized his voice was shaking. "You just - fell back. You were hardly breathing."

Ginny's breath hitched as though she might be crying, but Harry couldn't see her face. "I'm so stupid," she mumbled, sniffling. "I'm so sorry."

Remus put a handkerchief into her hands. She slowly mopped up her face and her front with a shaking hand, and awkwardly swiped at Harry's sleeves.

"Don't worry about it," he said. "I don't care."

"I'm sorry," she muttered again, sounding embarrassed this time.

"You should be," Remus said. He gazed levelly at her. "You knew exactly what the consequences might be. This was very irresponsible of you, Ginny."

Harry was about to protest for her, but Ginny answered before he could.

"I know." It was a whisper. "Harry, you have to let go of me. It hurts. I'm sorry."

Harry retracted his arms and moved away from her, feeling as though he moved through fog. He didn't know what was going on, but it hardly mattered. He'd had a feeling, before, that he had been the cause of this illness, whatever it was. And if he was hurting her, then he had probably been right.

"Harry deserves a very thorough explanation," Remus said, still not taking his gaze from Ginny, who had fallen against the back of the sofa the second Harry had let her go. Her head hung forward on her chest. "But we need to get you home first. Can you stand?"

"No."

Remus stood up and levitated Ginny's body into midair before him. "Fortunately for us, this street is all wizards," he muttered, and guided her prone form towards the door.

Harry opened it, but his eyes stayed fixed on Ginny, who wasn't looking at him. "Can I come?" he asked, wondering if his presence would only continue to make her ill. The thought of not being allowed near her made his chest constrict.

"Give me a few minutes," Remus said. "I'll revive her further at home, and she'll be able to speak with you."

"All right."

Ginny's breath hitched again; her suspended body shook, and Harry could see that tears were making their way out of the corners of her eyes; she tried to wipe them away. "I hate this," she mumbled thickly to herself. "I don't want this. It's not fair."

Remus sighed and floated her body down the porch steps. Harry was left standing in his front room, confused and anxious.

"Fifty to thirty, Bats in the lead - but this is by far the best we've seen the Cannons play in decades! What they lack in years of team practice they're certainly making up for with enthusiasm - or perhaps it's fear. Wood's an awe-inspiring captain. Oh - right. Pausing here for a word from one of the game's first commercial sponsors and the Ballycastle Bats' team mascot, here's Barney the Bat with a song you all know - so sing along, especially you young kids out there, because they wrote this one with you in mind, I'm sure."

"I'm just batty about Butterbeer!"

"Aren't we all. Right then, where were we?"

Harry listened to the wireless without really hearing it. Something very definite was happening, and it had to do with him, and yet Ginny hadn't told him about it. She was sick. He'd made her sick. His eyes strayed to the enormous book that Remus has left on the table, and in his impatience to have an answer, he nearly lunged for it.

Empathy in Sorcery: A History and Guide

He had been too scared, earlier, to realize what the title meant; now he sat down and stared at it. Hermione had once given him and Ron a lecture on Empathy. In her quest to find a remedy for her parents, she had discovered that there had been wizards called Healers who used Empathic magic, but that none now existed. Harry couldn't remember anything else she had said, but it didn't matter - it was enough to know that there if there were no Healers, then there was no need for an Empathic textbook in Ginny's satchel. Unless.

He opened the book and began to scan its contents, flipping rapidly through pages, skipping chapters, and reading the parts that she had highlighted.

"The recommended first subject of study for any Healer in training is not a fellow human being - though this will be most Healers' natural inclination. The newfound ability to help others must be resisted until the Healer has truly mastered his or her gift."

"The ability to sense and soothe pain in others, though the ultimate gift of the Healer, is a dangerous gift with which to experiment. If a novice Healer has a personal relationship with the object of his or her Healing, this danger increases exponentially in relationship to the depth of said personal relationship. The wish to assist must be resisted by novices. Irresponsible use of this gift will cause mental and physical damage to the Healer."

"Step one: Place your hands on the skin or clothing of your subject, and slide your palms slowly across the afflicted area. (Eventually, all sensing will be done in your subject's aura; not on his or her skin. However, to build skill, touch is a necessary beginning.) Concentrate on those areas emanating unnatural heat or cold. Press lightly, trusting instinct to guide your hands. If you have prepared properly, your natural gifts will inform the method and depth of your touch."

Harry realized that he was gripping the sides of the textbook so hard that his hands hurt. He didn't know if he had ever been this angry. She hadn't trusted him. She had scared the hell out of him. She had been... experimenting on him, with magic that she clearly could not control. No wonder the Dementors hadn't taken a worse toll on him. No wonder she had looked sicker every day, since he had started dragon riding - he couldn't believe it had taken him so long to realize that none of it was accidental. Nothing between them was accidental. Harry turned back to a page he had marked with his finger, and reread one sentence in particular until his brain throbbed.

"If no one present recognizes the phenomenon, the novice Healer will often spend his or her entire life devoted to a person whose pain is so intense that it requires constant attention, unaware that this devotion is a product of Empathic Magic."

Harry shut the book with a slam. He was nauseated. He couldn't help thinking that Ginny had been fairly well devoted to him ever since they'd met. And now this book was telling him that her attention had been dictated by magic... He couldn't process it.

It dawned clearly on Harry just how much it had meant to him to believe that Ginny loved him. Even when he hadn't wanted to admit it to himself, he had always known that she was there, and that she was his. She had always been his. And since the beginning of summer, he had slowly become hers. She knew him in ways that no one ever had; she made him feel safe with himself - and there was nothing magic about the way he felt for her. Harry knew the difference. It was how she smiled, tilting her head to the side in the way she had. It was how she laughed at the same things he found funny. It was how she looked quietly at him, and made him want to tell her everything. It was the way he had to watch her, the way she knew where to touch him, the way her mouth felt against his - the way she understood exactly who he was. Voldemort had nearly destroyed her. She knew loss and war. She loved Ron and Hermione. She had been there, when his life had begun on platform nine and three-quarters, and seven years later, without fear or hesitation, she had risked her life for his. He wasn't in love with her Empathy.

Harry put his head in his hands.

"And somebody's going to have to EAT HER CLEATS - that's right, ladies and gentlemen, this is Lee Jordan, announcing the first Chudley Cannons win against the Ballycastle Bats in over sixty years! The crowd's gone out of its mind -"

"Take a look at that red-haired bloke."

"Is he trying to climb the railing?"

"And why wouldn't he, when Maureen Knight has CAUGHT THE SNITCH - look at that woman fly! And she's not a bad looking woman, at that! I think I'll have to abuse my stadium privileges and meet that Seeker later on - but someone's beat me to it - would you look at Oliver Wood! Have you ever seen such a madman - throwing his arms around his Seeker in midair - whoa there, but she's not having any of it, is she? Pushed him halfway across the pitch! A lady after your own heart, Gwendolyn!"

Numbly, Harry flicked off the wireless and Disapparated to Lupin Lodge. He appeared in the corridor just outside of Ginny's room, still holding her book. He could hear her talking.

"Remus, you don't have to..."

"I think you proved today that I do have to." There was a creaking noise, like someone getting out of a chair.

"But it's Saturday," Ginny protested.

"And we decided to run our school as nearly to Hogwarts as possible. Detentions for misuse of magic are as applicable on Saturdays as they are on other days, unless my memory is mistaken. You have detention every day for a week." Remus paused. "I'm extremely disappointed. You assured me that you would not deliberately abuse your studies."

"You don't understand - it's not deliberate! I can't help it! Whenever he -"

"I'm right out here," Harry called, not bothering to keep the fierceness out of his voice. He rapped hard on the door. "Do I get an explanation now?"

Дата добавления: 2015-11-04