The Lewis House 84 страница

Ginny fixed her eyes on him, unsure of what he was feeling. But if the look in his eyes was any indication, then she was fairly certain that she didn't want to know.

Harry ran his eyes over her and returned them to her face. Without a word, he Disapparated.

Stung more deeply than if he had slapped her, Ginny stared at the empty space where he had been, and told herself that he hadn't just done that. He hadn't been there; she'd only imagined it. He hadn't hurt her on purpose.

But he had.

Ginny changed out of her gear. She walked between the giant stones and back out to the empty, silent beach. She sat on the rocks and stared at the sea for a long time, watching it roll and crash, thinking back over her life since Harry had come into it. How rich he had made it. How terribly confusing.

How could he not trust her?

Ginny wrapped her arms around her legs, laid her cheek on her knees, and shut her eyes, listening to the ocean. She'd stood with him at crucial moments. She would have died for him. He knew it. How could he even think that she would be inconstant? She rocked herself, feeling the wind on her face, reliving for the thousandth time her first glimpse of the boy who had stolen her heart on platform nine and three-quarters. She loved him. Openly and totally. With a force that was sometimes humiliating. And she would always love him like that.

Perhaps it was time to accept that, no matter how far it seemed to have come between them, Harry did not love her back. Not with any real faith or strength. Not like she loved him.

Ginny hugged her legs and let her mouth fall open. She felt a strange, sad sound escape her, but it was carried away on a wind and never reached her ears.

~*~

Harry waited in the front room of Lupin Lodge for a long time, Charmed Life clutched in both hands. Remus walked into the room at one point, glanced at what Harry was holding, and walked back out again. Sirius came in a moment later.

"Waiting for Ginny?" he asked quietly from the doorway. He folded his arms. "Harry?"

Harry didn't answer.

"She'll have had a long day when she gets here."

Harry turned enough so that he could only see Sirius out of the corner of his eye. He felt absolutely rigid; there was nothing that Sirius could say to ease it and he wanted to be left the hell alone.

"That's all I'm going to say. For now." Sirius paused. "No, I lied. I have no place - no place giving this kind of advice - but go home and think about this before you start it. Don't say anything until you've thought about it good and hard. You'll regret it. Believe me."

Harry bent the magazine in his fists and focused on the mantelpiece. Fairy lights wreathed the fireplace. Ginny had put them there. He'd watched her do it, and she'd been laughing, shooting him looks over her shoulder from across the room. Looks just like the one she was giving Draco Malfoy on the cover of this issue of Charmed Life.

Harry looked down at the carpet.

"All right, Harry. Do what you like."

Harry heard his godfather leave the room. He heard Sirius and Remus gather their cloaks and leave the house. The door shut softly behind them and left Harry in solitude and silence.

He didn't know how much longer he sat there. The wait felt both endless and brief, and in it Harry's insides churned, cold and heavy. The picture wasn't real. Couldn't be real. He knew that. But it looked real. And did he know her, really? He had thought so… but she was still making private dates with Malfoy. And there was still one, nagging question. The one he couldn't ask.

A soft pop! sent a chill coursing through him. He didn't look up.

"Harry?"

Ginny's voice was close. Without having to look, Harry knew that she was right behind him, at the foot of the stairs. He heard her put her bag on the floor and throw her cloak on the chair beside his, but he turned his face further away and saw only flames, leaping in the fireplace.

"Haven't seen you at all this week. Come to say hello?"

Harry waited for her to drop the sarcasm. He wasn't in the mood.

"Something wrong?"

The quiet precision of her voice suggested that she knew exactly what was wrong, and Harry hated that she wouldn't come right out and say it. Was she playing with him? He unrolled the magazine in his hands and glanced down at its cover. Without turning to face her, he held up his copy of Charmed Life so that she could see the picture over his shoulder.

The room was very still.

"Yes, I've seen it." Ginny's voice was quiet. "Draco's sorry he ever hired those reporters, I'm sure."

"Oh, it's Draco now?" The words tore out of Harry like bullets and he brought his arm down hard, smacking the magazine on the arm of his chair.

There was another awful pause.

"I think that's always been his name." Ginny sounded aloof. Disinterested. "Any more questions?"

Harry couldn't believe that she wasn't denying it. He jostled the magazine. "Did this happen?" he demanded, and made the mistake of glancing at the picture again. Ginny's fingers stroked Malfoy's cheek. Malfoy had his mouth on her hand. He wanted to tear Malfoy's face off and feed it to Norbert; he wanted to hurt him.

"Turn around." Ginny's voice was strangely distant. "You look at me and ask me that."

Harry didn't want to do it, but he stood. He'd been in the same position for so long that his back hurt, and he put his free hand to it. With the other he shook the magazine again. "Did it happen," he repeated flatly, and crumpled the picture hard. He wanted to disfigure that cover so that he couldn't recognize the people on it - he didn't even want to touch it - disgust surged through Harry and he pitched Charmed Life into the fire. Its glossy pages sizzled and it sent a nasty scorching smell into the room.

"Turn around."

Very reluctantly, Harry turned and caught sight of Ginny. One look at her told him that she was not the same girl from the cover of the magazine: her hair was limp, her face was damp as if she'd been sweating, and her eyes were dark and hurt and angry. He could hear her breathing. He could see the tension in her jaw. She was real, and in comparison the picture in the paper suddenly looked like plastic.

Ginny stared at Harry as if she had never fully seen him. "Do you… really need me to answer?"

Harry knew that he didn't. But he shrugged and waited.

"You're serious?"

He glanced away from her and fixed his eyes on the chair where she'd thrown her cloak, not sure what he was driving at. He was infuriating her, he knew that much. And he knew there was no reason for it. But he couldn't stop himself - there was something that had to come out of him, something that had been twisting inside him for longer than he could remember, and it was coming out tonight.

"How can you ask me that?"

Harry wasn't even sure what the conversation was about anymore. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his robes. Coming out of the pocket of Ginny's discarded cloak was an identification badge, which bore the symbol of St. Mungo's. She'd been working with Hermione's parents. She'd been working with the dragons. She'd been working on Malfoy. And now he knew she had homework to finish; her rucksack was overstuffed with schoolbooks.

"Harry, we were in a picture like that. You and I. And do you honestly think I'd…" She laughed, sounding slightly unhinged. "Have you really been sitting here wondering if I've been off snogging Malfoy in pubs? Yes, Harry. That's exactly it. I've been having it off with Draco and we're going to be married next Tuesday - sorry I didn't get a chance to tell you before, but you know how it is when one's a busy little tart, there's just no time for explanations."

Harry shuddered and gave her a swift, hard look. "Don't talk like that."

"Like what? That's what you're calling me, you're just not saying the words out loud - don't you know me, Harry?" Ginny searched his face. "Don't you know me at all?"

Harry braced himself, and said the truth. "I'm not sure."

He couldn't remember a silence feeling quite like this one. It hurt to stand in it. It was actually painful to watch Ginny's face as it went from pleading to shocked… to ghostly.

"What?" she whispered. For a long time, it seemed to be all that she could say. She looked afraid. "What do you mean?"

He had to ask her. It had been weighing on him for months, and this was as good a time as any other - even better, really, since she was already furious. It might as well be now. "You're a Healer," he said. "You've been one all your life even if you didn't know it and you've also… " He couldn't say it.

"Yes?" Ginny asked faintly.

"You've… liked me." Harry couldn't put it in stronger terms, and he really couldn't look at her now. "From erm. From when you were pretty little." He could hardly hear himself. He knew he was mumbling. "So I've been wondering how much of it…you know, because of the Healing…" Harry stopped. It was too hard.

When Ginny spoke, he could not read her tone. "I'm sorry, but whatever you're saying there, you're going to have to come right out and say it."

Harry could feel himself burning up. "You… don't you know what I'm saying?"

But this time it was Ginny who didn't answer, and Harry felt suddenly stranded. He hadn't realized how much he had come to depend on the fact that she already knew him all the way to his bones - and she did. It spared him having to be this person that he wasn't - this person with emotional things to say and relationship hurdles to clear - he simply didn't know how. He'd never had any practice. It was different for Ron, who had lived all his life in a house where people said what they were feeling and then hugged and made up and went on living. It was different for all of them. None of them knew what it was like to be this trapped, and Harry found himself wanting to lash out at the lot of them.

But it was Ginny he had in the room.

"All right then," he said angrily. "You want me to say it right out?"

Ginny gazed at him and raised her chin.

"Your book says that Healers can spend their whole lives devoted to people who are full of serious pain, and never realize that the only reason they're really devoted to the person is because they're Healers." Harry's chest rose and fell rapidly, and he felt his control sliding further out of his reach with every second. "So what I want to know is, have you fancied me your whole life because of me, or because of some magic?"

Ginny flinched as if he'd struck her. If she had been pale before, she was stark white now, and her hands clenched at her sides. She opened her mouth and closed it, then did it again. Her chest hitched.

"Well?" Harry nearly shouted, when a minute had passed and she still hadn't answered. He'd just asked her the hardest question he'd ever asked anyone - was she just going to stand there? "You told me to say it - can't you say anything back?"

"I…" Ginny looked stunned. "Harry."

"Yeah?"

"I never fancied you."

Harry barked a harsh laugh before he could stop himself. He realized at once that it was unkind, but it was too late. The color rushed back into Ginny's face.

"Are you… laughing at me?" she managed. Her voice shook. "Because I'm telling the truth - I never fancied you, I never liked you, who do you think I am? I loved you, Harry."

Harry jumped.

"I still love you." She didn't seem to know what to do with her hands. "And you think it's magic?"

"Do you even know?" Harry demanded, hurrying to block out the frightening force of the words she'd just said. "It could be, couldn't it? You don't know, you haven't worked everything out with your powers, have you?"

She stared at him. "Haven't I been obvious enough about you?"

The right answer was yes, and Harry knew it, but it wasn't the answer he felt. "So? You might be drawn to me for the same reasons you're drawn to Malfoy - or anyone. How can you really tell?"

Ginny found places for her hands - one she pressed to her stomach and the other to her heart. "For the same reasons I'm drawn… to Malfoy?" she whispered. "Is that some kind of joke?" She looked right at him, obviously incredulous. "Is it really this hard for you to believe that I might just love you?"

Harry made an angry noise, and wished he had something to throw. She was missing the point. "Why can't you just answer the damn question?"

"I did." Ginny didn't look away. "I don't know what I can say. I don't know why words should make a difference. I know you. I was there with you, for Voldemort. I would have -" She stopped short, but Harry knew what she had been about to say.

I would have died for you.

"That's not the same!" The words tore out of Harry, and he didn't even know what they meant. "It's not about Voldemort, it's not about spells - I'm not talking about Expecto Sacrificum - you weren't the only one in that, that was Ron and Hermione and Remus and Sirius, that was necessary, that wasn't for me - that just happened to be me, it could have been anyone with the same - born in the same - anyone could have been Harry Potter. I don't make that difference."

Harry's head pounded. His heart raced. He didn't know what he was saying and it didn't matter, it all had to get said, here and now, though Ginny was gaping him in unconcealed astonishment.

"Dying for me," he spat. "What the hell good is that going to do me - my mum and dad died for me and if I could have had them back and forgot Hogwarts and gone to Dudley's bloody school I would have done it - I lived in a cupboard, for God's sake, and you don't know what that's like, you can't know - "

He was panting now. Beyond his own control. Humiliating words spilled out of him, unstoppable. The dam had burst.

"They didn't even know if I was worth dying for, did they? I was just a baby, I could have turned out a thief or a murderer or something - and I did, I've killed people, I've killed people. Doesn't matter who they were, I did it, didn't I? And I got people killed, good people who weren't supposed to die, and where were the big clever spells to protect them? Why was it so important that I get through all of it? I was supposed to die a hundred times, and there's a good chance that if I had other people would have made it."

Harry put his hands up to his face. He didn't know what was happening to him. He was shaking all over, his breath coming in gasps, and his glasses - he didn't want them. He didn't want to see her anymore, standing there with her mouth open, watching him fall apart. He tore the glasses off his face and dangled them at his side, keeping his other hand over his eyes.

"You've got no reason to care about me. I can't be like you. I'm sick of being sacrificed for, so don't give this to me, whatever it is. I don't want it. I don't want it." Harry kept his eyes hidden. Tight, angry blackness was unraveling in his chest and he ached. He pressed his hand closer to his face, afraid that if he relieved the pressure something would happen that he could never forgive himself for.

"You don't want it?" Ginny asked, so quietly that he could barely hear her. "You don't want me caring about you?"

Harry couldn't move. Every embarrassing thing he'd just said echoed in his head, making him dizzy. He thought he might be sick.

"I'm always going to care about you."

"Well stop it," he managed.

"I can't. You can't choose that for me. That's not a sacrifice for me. And even if it was, I'd make it anyway."

Harry shoved his glasses in his pocket. He needed both hands to cover his face. He never wanted her to see him again. He'd never lost control like that, and he never wanted to lose control like that again - and Ginny was the only person in the world that could drive him to it.

"You need to quit your job," she said, still very quietly. "You can't be around those Dementors anymore, Harry. I mean it."

"You think this is because of the Dementors?" His voice was rough. Harsh. He took his hands down and focused on the blur of her. He was going to lose his balance. Harry fumbled to pull his glasses out of his pocket and put them back on his face, wishing as soon as he'd done so that he had left her blurry and unrecognizable. Her face was full of worry, hurt and love.

"I don't think they're helping," she said, and came towards him. "I think you need a break."

"I'll tell you what I need a break from," said Harry, reaching for something he could understand. He couldn't let himself spiral back down into the place where he'd just been, and he had to get out of here. Now. "You on that broom with Malfoy."

Ginny hesitated, then reached up and pushed his hair gently away from his forehead. Harry shut his eyes and felt her fingers, cool on his hot, sweaty skin. He was being horrible to her. Horrible. But the black knot in his chest wasn't half-gone - it lingered and made him feel ill. There was more to say. He dropped his head, and his forehead touched her shoulder.

"Ginny." It was all the apology he could manage.

"You know I've never touched Malfoy."

He nodded into her shoulder.

"And you know I love you."

He didn't nod, or move from his slumped position. He touched the outside of her arm and dragged his fingers haphazardly to her wrist.

"You do know that, don't you?"

But the truth was that he didn't. He knew that she meant whatever she was saying, but he had no idea what it really meant to be loved like she loved him. It wasn't like friendship - Ron and Hermione weren't going anywhere, not if they hadn't gone already. But Ginny was something apart from that, and it frightened him to believe in her kind of love because she had the power to take it away. She could die. She could be killed. She could leave. She could decide he wasn't all he was cracked up to be. He already knew that he wasn't.

"Didn't you save my life?" she whispered, and put her arms around his neck. "Harry, listen to me, I love you."

More than anything he wanted to allow it in. As much happiness as she'd given him, he had never allowed her in - not far. Not this far. He knew it was what she wanted - or what she said she wanted - but he didn't reach to hold her back. Whatever she was offering, it was stronger than he was; if it came into him and then left, it would kill him.

Ginny held him against her for a long time, her hands soft on his back. She didn't seem to care that he was unresponsive. When she pulled away, she softly kissed his cheek… the corner of his mouth… the side of his neck… And then she sniffled and took a step back, separating herself from him.

Harry focused on her face and a nasty chill ran through him.

She was crying.

"I think we need to take a break," she managed. "From each other. Because I know exactly how I feel and it's too hard, knowing that you don't."

Harry couldn't breathe.

"I do love you - but it's… it's all right if you don't love me, Harry." She smiled weakly through her tears, and touched the front of his jumper. "I always knew it was a long shot. I know you care about me. I know we're friends. And I'll always be glad we had… something."

He had no idea how to answer.

"Just… when you've sorted out how you do feel…" She took her hand off his jumper and swiped at her eyes. "Let me know, all right?"

She turned away at once, still swiping at her cheeks. Harry stood in shock as Ginny collected her cloak and bag from the chair, and walked up the stairs to her room.

Her door clicked shut. There was a thud, as if she'd dropped her bag to the ground. Harry stood and listened, unable to move or think, until there was a creak of bedsprings and a low, anguished moan that he didn't want to identify.

Slam.

Harry spun towards the front hall. No. Sirius and Remus. He couldn't face them, he didn't want questions. Especially not when he could hear Sirius almost right away.

"Wait. I'll check and see if Harry's still -"

But Harry didn't wait to be found. He pulled his wand, gathered the only shred of concentration that remained to him, and got out.

Chapter Thirty-Six

Hard Truths

~*~

A/N: Another writing credit goes out to Jedi Boadicea, who is again responsible for much of Draco's dialogue and behavior.

Thanks to Cap'n Kathy, Caroline, CoKerry, Doctor Aicha, Firelocks and Joe for beta-reading.

~*~

When a week had passed and Harry and Ginny still had not spoken Ron informed Hermione that something had to be done. Hermione laughed and reminded Ron that they had once gone three months without speaking because of a cat and a rat. Fights were natural, and Harry and Ginny were new to being a couple, and they'd work it out on their own without any interference.

But when another week passed and Ginny's birthday arrived without any sign that Harry knew or cared, Hermione began to wonder if she should interfere after all.

Ginny had grown steadily quieter each day as she'd continued to work on Hermione's parents. She was now able to stay near the Grangers for more than an hour at a time, and she went to St. Mungo's every evening when she was finished with school and the dragons, ignoring anyone who told her that she didn't really have space for it in her schedule. Hermione wondered if Ginny was really dedicated to her work, or if she simply wanted to distract herself.

"I don't think you should be working on your birthday," Hermione ventured. "Don't you want to go back and see if -"

"It doesn't matter," Ginny said, her hands extended over Hermione's father's knees. "Don't worry about it." But her voice was too quiet and her shoulders were slumped. "I'm fine."

Hermione crossed her legs and her arms in one motion. "You and Harry are so much alike," she began, but stopped when Ginny dropped her hands and looked up.

"Please don't." She didn't move again until Hermione had nodded assent, and then she lifted her hands again and returned her eyes to Mr. Granger. "I have to tell you something about your parents. This isn't going to be easy."

Hermione steeled herself. "Go on."

"The higher I get, the more damage there is. Which makes sense, if the curses were primarily aimed at their chests and heads."

"I… assumed as much." But that didn't make it any easier to hear. Hermione clasped her hands on her knee and watched Ginny move her fingers slowly and deliberately in the air. "Is any of it - can any of it be Healed?"

"Yes. But your dad…" Ginny passed her fingers over Hermione's father's eyes, and her face clouded. "Hermione…"

"Just tell me." Hermione tried to keep the edges out of her voice. "Say it, I need to know."

Ginny dropped her hands and shook her head. "I don't know how to break this kind of news," she muttered. "I don't know how mediwizards do this. I'm sorry."

"Say it fast. The waiting is worse."

Ginny met Hermione's eyes and took a breath. "I think your father is blind."

Hermione gripped the arms of her chair and didn't answer for a moment. She wasn't sure how to process what she was being told. "Okay," she finally said. But it wasn't all right. It was sickening. It wasn't fair, it wasn't fair -

"I could be wrong."

"But you think you're right." The world around Hermione was blurry, and she knew there were tears in her eyes, though she couldn't really feel them. She knew she would be lucky if her father woke up at all. But if he was going to wake up blind… and there was no one left to blame. No one to strike at.

Ginny came around the bed, looking distraught. She knelt in front of Hermione and put a hand on her knee. "I hate telling you these things," she said quietly. "I'm going to do everything in my power to fix it, you know I am."

"Of course I know." She paused, not trusting her voice. "Is - is my mum…"

"I don't think so. She seems to have much less damage to her head and face." Ginny was quiet for a moment. "I expect… I expect your dad stood in front of her."

"Yes," Hermione whispered. "I'm sure he did." She swiftly blocked a mental image, not wanting to imagine how it must have happened. She had always tried not to dwell on it, not to think of all the possible, morbid scenarios - and now she tried very hard to hold back her tears. She didn't want to make Ginny feel worse than she probably already did. Delia had warned her not to pressure Ginny, who was doing more than she should have for the Grangers. It was taking time away from her studies and it was straining her relationship with Remus, who was now adamant that she should give up several of her extracurricular activities and focus on finishing her seventh year. But Ginny had been just as adamant. Hermione had heard the fight from upstairs. Ginny had shouted that she would fail out of school rather than give up Healing, if those were her choices, and then she had left the house in tears.

But Hermione knew it had much less to do with Remus, or Healing, than it had to do with Harry. Fortunately, Remus knew it too. They all did. Except Harry.

"You really shouldn't be working on your birthday," Hermione said again, when she had mastered her emotions. "Let's go home and get ready for the party." The change of subject was half for Ginny's sake and half for her own; she wanted to get out of St. Mungo's and find Ron and be held for a while before she had to put on a brave face.

She imagined that Ginny needed a little holding too - her face was very pale and there were rings under her eyes. The Weasleys were meeting at the Snout's Fair to celebrate Ginny's and Ron's birthdays together, and Hermione could predict Mrs. Weasley's reaction if she should see Ginny looking so worn out.

Дата добавления: 2015-11-04