The Lewis House 19 страница

A/N II: To the attendees of SQUKNY: Many a good time has been had in New York City; none, however, has been so good as ours. Thank you for being so completely awesome, for traveling such long ways, for wearing your Gryffindor scarves with pride, and for making it all seem just a little... realer.

A/N III: Much thanks to our patient beta-readers for catching mistakes and pointing out holes and making us think very, very hard.

Physical distance is nothing, between kindred spirits.

~*~

It was noon when Ginny blinked awake. She felt a surge of sickening anxiety and shut her eyes again, but remembered after a few groggy moments that everything was over. The Wolfsbane Potion had been a success, and there was nothing to feel guilty and worried over – at least not today.

Yawning happily, she managed to roll out of bed and trudge downstairs for breakfast. The house was warm, bright, and quiet, but she quickly discovered that she wasn’t in it alone. Harry was asleep at the dining room table, his head on his arms.

She stopped in the doorway and let her eyes travel from his hair, which was sticking up all over, to his back, which rose and fell each time he breathed. Part of his profile was visible, allowing her a glimpse of glasses, nose, and open mouth. It was all she could do not to walk across the room and gently kiss him awake – she felt, as she had always felt, that she should have had the right. Instead, she quickly and quietly pulled her wand and made a cup of tea, then took the seat across from him without making a sound.

"Harry," she whispered, reaching a tentative hand across the table to softly touch his hair. "Harry, wake up."

He gasped and started, sitting up so fast that Ginny had to yank her hand away. His glasses fell to the table with a clatter. He fumbled for them violently with his left hand, putting his right hand to his wand at the same time. He finally managed to fix the glasses on his nose, panting. Not until his eyes focused on Ginny did he let out a heavy breath of relief and release his grip on his wand.

Ginny watched him without a word. She’d had her own nightmares for a long time, after everything that had happened with Tom Riddle, and she knew, mostly from stories she’d heard, that Harry suffered from nightmares as well. They were horrible things, and the worst ones felt too real – but the panic that had been coming off of Harry in waves was subsiding now, as he came awake. Whatever terrible dream he’d been having seemed to be ebbing away as he looked at her. Ginny could have sworn that she felt the change in the air itself.

"Hi," he said hoarsely, reaching his fingers under his glasses and rubbing his eyes. "Wh’time is it?"

"Noon," Ginny answered. "But I just woke up."

"I figured you’d sleep longer than that – aren’t you still tired?"

"No," Ginny insisted, but immediately broke out in a wide yawn that made both of them laugh. "Looks like you are, though." She pointed to where he’d been sleeping on the table. "Were you up late?"

Harry shrugged. "I stayed up and watched the shed. I don’t know what time it was."

At once, Ginny felt the rush of admiring love she’d had for him her entire life. It was so very Harry, really, to stay up and watch out for everything well beyond what was actually necessary. Full of a sudden, unstoppable affection, she reached her hand across the table and touched the top of his, coming wide awake at the brush of his Quidditch-weathered knuckles beneath her palm.

Harry took her hand in his at once. "Glad it’s over?" he asked, gazing at her seriously.

Ginny caught a silent breath. His eyes were unreal. And the tone of his voice – well, if anyone knew about being glad that an awful thing was over, then it was Harry. "So relieved," she answered honestly. "I can’t even tell you. I don’t feel sick for the first time in weeks."

Harry nodded in understanding, and gave a half-smile. "Well, I wouldn’t get too comfortable. Sirius’ll probably make you brew that potion next month, now he knows you can do it. So you’ve got –" he rotated his wrist without letting go of her hand, and checked his watch unnecessarily "– two weeks off." He grinned.

"Oh, no," Ginny laughed, putting her chin in her free hand. "I’m never doing that again, are you mad? Once was bad enough, and I’m sure it was a fluke – Remus will want somebody who can brew it consistently so that Sirius doesn’t worry like that again – "

"I’m fairly certain," came a very tired voice from the kitchen door, "that it was not a fluke."

Ginny and Harry snatched their hands away from the center of the table, and turned to see a very pale, haggard, and smiling Remus, leaning on the doorframe.

"Remus!" Ginny jumped to her feet and ran to throw her arms around him. He caught her and weakly patted her back.

"Yes, I lived to tell the tale and you won’t have to go to prison."

"Don’t joke," Ginny yelled, muffled, into his shoulder. She pulled back and looked at him. His skin seemed to sag from the fine bones of his face and his hair was perhaps a little more grey than it had been just yesterday. His eyes, usually grey flecked with gold, were still quite yellow. It was very strange. "Tea?" she offered quickly, to stop herself from staring.

"Thank you, yes." Remus sat down, shaking almost unnoticeably, stretching his neck from side to side.

Ginny made the tea quickly and, not sure why she was doing it, went to the pantry and retrieved a little vial of Sunseed oil. She had never used it in any recipe or potion before, but she tipped a teaspoonful into Remus’s tea without a second thought.

He frowned at the tea’s oily surface when she handed him the cup. "What’s in this?"

"Oh." Ginny wasn’t sure how she was going to explain. "It’s... Sunseed oil. I’ll make you another –"

"No, no." Remus looked up at her, and in his expression was the same curiosity she’d seen on the day in the garden, when she had separated the seeds. "How did you know to do that?" he asked gently.

"I..." She looked to Harry for help, only to find him looking at her with the same wondering expression. "I really don’t know," she confessed, returning her eyes to Remus. "Why – is that what you’re supposed to be drinking?"

Remus shrugged, wincing as he did so. "Well, it’s not necessary. But it does act as a balm on the muscles after they’ve been rearranged twice in twenty-four hours." He smiled grimly. "A lucky discovery, made about twenty years ago."

"I must’ve read it somewhere then," Ginny said doubtfully, resuming her seat. "I guess we learned it in class."

Harry shook his head. "I never learned that at Hogwarts."

"I don’t believe that it was a coincidence," Remus said lightly, fixing Ginny with an interested stare, "just as I don’t believe that your ability to brew a perfect Wolfsbane Potion was a fluke. I was unsure at first, but the longer I know you, the more I doubt that these... impulses of yours... are merely educated guesses."

"Well, what are they?" Ginny demanded, her stomach twisting. She knew, the moment that he said it, that Remus was right. There had been something strange. She’d been feeling things. It wasn’t an accident. "What is it? What am I doing that I don’t know about?"

Remus shook his head. "First, I want to ask you – although perhaps I should speak to your mother –"

"No," Ginny nearly hollered. "We can tell Mum later."

"Well, it’s going to require her permission." Remus smiled. "But I suppose I really ought to ask you first. After all, it’s your education."

Ginny knitted her eyebrows together. "My education? What are you talking about?"

Remus clasped his hands on the table and looked at her steadily. "I’d like to teach your seventh year."

It was several moments before Ginny found her voice. Her head had just gone into full spin – she’d been assuming that, at the end of summer, she’d have to return to the Burrow for a home education. Her mother had written to her several times, anxiously inquiring how she wanted to set up her studies, and Ginny had all but ignored the topic in all of her replies. She didn’t want to go home to the Burrow. She didn’t want to go anywhere to school, except Hogwarts. And she certainly didn’t want to leave Harry and Ron and Hermione, to live in her old room as if she were still a baby who’d never left home to begin with.

Never had she even considered the fact that Remus might tutor her. It seemed too wonderful an option to be real.

"Do you mean it?" she whispered, gripping her tea-mug in both hands. "You want to... to teach my whole year – all my subjects?"

Remus nodded. "Though I imagine you may outwit me in the Defense Against the Dark Arts department." He smiled, but his eyes were very grave. "Don’t feel you have to say yes, Ginny. This is selfish of me to ask, and you need to make the decision based on –"

"No! I mean, yes! Yes!" Ginny cried, more excited about school than she had ever been in her entire life. "You’re the best teacher I ever had – does this mean I can stay here? What books do I need? When will we be starting? How is it selfish?" She stopped pelting him with questions when she realized that Harry was stifling laughter. "What’s so funny?" she demanded. He shook his head quickly and held up his hands in self-defense.

Even Remus was grinning. "It’s selfish because part of my reason for wanting to keep you here has nothing at all to do with your education. I thought that perhaps we could barter." He paused, looking unsure of his next words. "I want you to continue to make the Wolfsbane Potion for me. I... want the privilege of transforming in my home. Near my friends." He looked back into his tea mug. "It’s been a very long time."

Ginny felt a thrill of honor at the idea of giving Remus such a gift – but it still remained that making the potion was a dangerous endeavor, a fact which she understood now better than ever. She barely shook her head, "But what if I –"

"You won’t fail." Remus’s eyes were strangely bright. "I trust that you have a gift that won’t allow you to fail." Ginny opened her mouth to ask what it was, but Remus interrupted before she managed to speak. "I want to help you study your gift, as well – but please don’t ask me to explain it yet. I realize how curious you must be, but I want to do some research and be sure of what I’m saying."

Ginny shut her mouth in consternation. She was desperate to know what her ‘gift’ was, and equally desperate to stay in Stagsden near her friends, with Remus for a teacher. She did not, however, know if she trusted herself quite as much as Remus seemed to trust her. "What does Sirius think of my trying it again?" she asked slowly.

Remus laughed through his nose. "I think you will find that his opinion on the matter has entirely changed since last night."

"And... would I stay here, with you?"

At this question, Harry sat up a bit straighter and looked attentively at Remus.

"I think that would be best, yes. Until you complete your studies."

Ginny thought a moment. "Well... if Lavender and Seamus are getting married September first," she said, making her decision as she spoke, "then I suppose... we’ll have to wait and start our classes on the second."

Remus smiled – an open, youthful smile that made his eyes light up as the circles beneath them disappeared. Ginny thought she was seeing what he must have looked like in school. He was very handsome, and the wayward twist at one corner of his mouth gave her a sudden idea that he’d once been rather more prone to mischief than she ever would have guessed.

"You’ll stay?" he asked quickly, sounding not at all tired.

"Yes, I will," Ginny affirmed, smiling back. And though her insides continued to thump with worry about the potion, her overwhelming feeling was one of excitement. She would get to study her seventh year with a great teacher. She would get to stay at Lupin Lodge. She’d get to stay with Harry. And maybe she was making too much of nothing, but Harry was definitely grinning right at her.

"This is going to be great!" she burst out, "I can’t wait, we’ll have to make sure it’s all right with my parents – no, wait – don’t tell my mum yet, I want to be here when you tell her. She’s coming with Penelope before the wedding, and we can do it then, is that okay?"

Remus agreed that he would wait for Molly’s visit, and together they began to discuss the best date to start classes, which lessons should go when, and what textbooks she would need to obtain. Halfway through the conversation, Ron and Hermione burst into the kitchen, both pink-faced and sweating a bit from "a long walk outside in the sun". Hermione positively flew into raptures when Ginny told her the news of Remus’s offer.

"You can have all my books!" she exclaimed. "I kept them all. And I have my notes organized by date in folders, if you’d like to study from them, and I kept most of the major projects so when you get to those just let me –"

"Why is it," Ron interrupted loudly, "you never let me have one single page of your ruddy notes, and you’re letting her have all of ‘em?" He turned on Ginny. "And you get everybody’s favorite teacher to yourself for a year. This is royally unfair." But he wasn’t fooling anybody. He looked thrilled for her.

Red in the face, Remus insisted that he was nobody’s favorite teacher, which caused all of them to chime in with reminders of Neville Longbottom’s first Boggart, and Harry’s first Patronus. They were all near to crying with mirth at the memory of Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle tottering onto the Quidditch pitch from beneath a hooded cloak when an official-looking owl swooped down in front of Harry, holding out its leg.

Harry untied the parchment and opened it, still looking to be in a wonderful mood. But as he read, his face began to lose color – so quickly that the happy chatter around the table trailed off, and Ginny grew frightened that the letter announced a death.

"What’s happened?" she demanded quietly. "Who’s it from?"

"Ministry owl," Ron muttered. "Classified Confidential tags – what’s it, another Auror invite, or –"

"No. It’s from Charlie." Harry held out the letter to Ron, and Ginny saw his shoulders slump, a little. "Read it if you want."

"‘To Mr. Harry Potter,’" Ron began, aloud, and stopped. "Pretty formal, coming from Charlie!"

"Go on, Ron, let’s hear it," Hermione urged, coming up behind him and peeking over his shoulder.

"Right. ‘At this time, due to unforeseeable circumstances concerning the Dementors at Azkaban, the Ministry of Magic is organizing a Permanent Azkaban Patrol division. This new division will be responsible for insuring the Dementors remain contained on the island of Azkaban, thereby maintaining the safety of the civilian wizarding and Muggle population.’" Ron stopped reading again, and laughed shortly. "Well, doesn’t that just sound like fun." He looked at Harry. "Didn’t you already tell Moody you didn’t want a part of this?"

Harry shrugged, his eyes on the table. "Moody’s not in charge of this, I guess," he muttered. "Keep reading."

Ron did. " ‘The P.A.P. will work from dragonback –’ Damn, dragon back? Is he insane or what? ‘– to insure that the Dementors are fully corralled and imprisoned at all times. The Ministry of Magic, P.A.P. Division, invites you, as a professional flier and recognized wizard in your field, to join our ranks. A private informational session will be held on September seventh, and nine dragon riders will be selected at that time for further training. Reply immediately if you mean to attend. Sincerely, Charles Weasley,’" Ron and Ginny snorted, "‘Chairman of the Permanent Azkaban Patrol. p.s. Hey, Harry, sorry about the form letter, hope you want to give this a try – give Ron and Ginny a hello, and Remus too. See you, Charlie.’"

Harry had put his head in his hands, and was steadily working his hair into worse shape than Ginny had ever seen it. "I have to say yes," he muttered.

Ron gave Harry a look to which he was totally oblivious. "Why’s that?"

"It’s your brother. What am I supposed to do, say no?"

"YES," said Ron and Ginny together.

Harry looked up, bewildered. "I can’t do that."

"Harry." Ginny put her hand out for the letter and Ron handed it to her. She skimmed it once and shook her head. "How can you even consider it when you’ve got a shot at playing for the Cannons? Do you want to miss out on that?"

"Well, no," Harry admitted. "But –"

"There were two dozen dragon riders trained during the war," Hermione added, "weren’t there?"

Ron nodded. "Yeah, something like that. Harry, they have plenty of people to do this. It definitely doesn’t have to be you."

Harry hesitated, and glanced at Remus. "It doesn’t?"

Remus sighed, and the light in his face went out again, revealing all the lines and hollows that the werewolf had carved into his features over the years. "That’s for you to decide, Harry," he said. "But you’ll excuse me while I step in for your godfather – if Sirius wasn’t at trial, he would tell you in no uncertain terms that you’ve already done enough. There’s no need for you to spend any further part of your life chasing after Dark creatures." He paused. "And I’m sure your parents would have said the same."

Harry didn’t answer. He sat mutely, obviously finding it difficult to decide.

Ginny shot Remus a grateful look, and pulled her wand, ready to burn Charlie’s letter then and there. "Don’t do it, Harry," she said simply.

"If Sirius was upset about one Dementor, imagine how he’d feel about you being around all of them at once," Hermione pressed.

"Remember how much you enjoyed going up against the Hungarian Horntail?" Ron added wryly.

"And think about telling Oliver Wood that you’re not going to join his team," Ginny finished. "Just think about the telling-off you’d get. You’d go deaf in minutes."

Harry’s stared at her blankly – then looked around at all of them and gave a very real and unexpected laugh. "Okay," he conceded. "Okay. Yeah. I’ll write back and say no."

All those present at the table gave a breath of collective relief, and Ginny lit Charlie’s Ministry invitation on fire with an explosive snap. In seconds it had flared and disappeared.

"You’re getting good at that," Harry shot, smiling slightly.

Ginny tossed her head. Harry had unknowingly complimented the first spell she had ever learned. "I’ve been doing that since I was six," she told him, "so I ought to be good at it."

"Six!" Hermione exclaimed. "How were you making fire at six?"

"Self defense," Ron answered for her. "She used to trick her toy wands into it – Fred and George used to try and stick her up in trees, lock her in closets, drown her in ponds..."

"They didn’t!" Hermione looked scandalized, but her eyebrows came down after a moment and she shook her head. "Oh, of course they did." She turned to Ginny and sighed. "By the way... did you want to stop by today and tell the twins hello?"

Ginny frowned, not sure what Hermione was talking about, until it dawned on her that they had made plans to go into Hogsmeade and look for suitable dress robes to wear at Lavender’s wedding. "Oh, right," she said, getting up. "Yes, I wrote and told them we’d say hi. Why... don’t you want to?" She grinned wickedly.

Hermione tried to compose her face into a neutral expression, and failed. "Of course I do," she said unconvincingly. "If they won’t..."

Ron turned to her in mock sympathy. "Don’t worry, they’re not going to spray you with Homework Repellant again," he said, sniggering violently. "School’s out, what fun would that be? But still – oh, priceless –" Ron was lost in a spasm of uncontrollable laughter.

Harry and Ginny exchanged a merry glance. When they’d all visited Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes for its opening last Autumn, Fred and George had "accidentally tested" a new product on Hermione that had made it impossible for her to go near her homework for nearly three days. Books and papers had soared away from her when she’d come too close. Quills had fluttered out of her reach. The Hogwarts library itself had repelled her with a staggering force. She’d been in a fit the whole time, and Ron hadn’t been able to pick himself up off the floor, he’d been laughing so hard.

"Come on, Hermione," Ginny said, still giggling. "I’m sure they’ll behave."

"I’m sure they won’t," Hermione said grumpily, casting glares at everyone who was laughing at her old misfortune. "And I hate dress shopping."

Ginny wrinkled her nose. She wasn’t particularly fond of dress shopping either – especially without much of a budget. But it had to be done. "It’ll only take a second, and while we’re in town you can help me look for books that might help me with my seventh year studies," she offered.

Hermione’s face brightened at this, and she nodded. "You go by Floo and I’ll meet you in front of Dervish and Banges in half an hour?"

Ginny agreed to the plan and set off upstairs to get dressed, touching Remus on the shoulder as she went, and giving him a grin.

He smiled back, if a little wearily. "Yes," he said, answering her silent statement. He reached up and patted her hand. "Yes. It’s certainly going to be an... interesting year."

~*~

Hermione hovered in the doorway of Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, which she had been doing for most of their visit, and checked her watch again. It wasn’t that she didn’t like Fred and George, but she didn’t need her hair to be any worse than it was, and Fred’s casual mention of some new product called Barber’s Bedazzler had done nothing to set her at ease. She wasn’t in the mood for green hair. Or blue hair. Or no hair at all – there was nothing she’d put past the twins.

"What, no hug goodbye?" George called out from across the shop, grinning mischievously over Ginny’s shoulder as he hugged her.

"See you next week," Hermione replied coolly. Fred rolled his eyes at her, but she only arched an eyebrow and shrugged, trying to tell him that if he were any sort of trustworthy person, then she wouldn’t have to stand in the door.

"Bye, Gin," Fred said, and Ginny joined Hermione at the door, carrying the shopping bag that held her dress robes and books, and a small bag containing a new invention of the twins’. Hermione looked dubiously at the bag.

"No worries, Hermione dear," George sang after them cheerfully. "I’m sure our thoughtful little sister will never use them on you."

Fred nodded solemnly. "But I reckon she’ll share them with Ron, and we can’t vouch for his behavior."

Ginny pressed her mouth shut on a smile and bid her brothers goodbye, and Hermione left the shop beside her, letting her thoughts travel a well-worn path. She believed –in fact she was almost entirely certain – that she would spend the rest of her life with Ron. They’d never talked about it. It just seemed... part of them. It was a wonderful thing to know, but it made encounters with the twins twice as troublesome, because Fred and George seemed to know it, too, and they’d adopted her as a sort of second sister. Someone new to torture. Hermione knew she ought to have a better sense of humor about the whole thing, the way that Ginny did. But then, Ginny was a veteran of every variety of playful torment, while Hermione wasn’t sure if she ever would be, not even if she did become a part of the Weasley family.

She did her best to put such official thoughts out of her mind, though it was hard to do with dress robes for a wedding swinging in the bag beside her. Getting married to Ron was a long way off. There were things she wanted to try first. Things she needed to try. Like going to the Thinker, which she was planning to do in just a week, and still hadn’t told Ron about. At this point, it wasn’t going to be pretty.

"Mind if I just pop into Honeydukes?" Ginny’s voice broke into her thoughts. Hermione shook her head and perched on one of Hogsmeade’s street-side benches to wait, absently tracing the head of a griffin, the claws of a manticore, and the widely spread wings of a dragon, which were carved expertly into the wooden arm.

She had to tell him today. There was simply no excuse for waiting any longer. The summer had been wonderfully free from tension – excepting the arrival of Draco Malfoy, which had proved, after all, to be little more than a nuisance – and she hated to walk right into a row, especially since, just this morning, everything had been so pleasant. She and Ron had gone on a really lovely walk... they’d discussed how uplifted Harry had seemed lately, and how wonderful it was that Ginny had managed the Wolfsbane Potion... and then Ron had maneuvered her into the woods behind the house and pinned her up against a tree, to kiss her until she could barely breathe. Or at least, he thought he had maneuvered her. Hermione smiled to herself. He wasn’t the only one with strategies.

"Well, I’m done." Ginny was back, frowning at her receipt. "That’s it for me, I can’t spend another Knut until September." She shook her head. "And I still have to pay Harry back for those things we used in the potion."

Hermione forgot her own troubles for a second. "He’ll never let you pay him back," she said, wishing it was her place to ask just exactly what was happening between Ginny and Harry these days. They’d seemed quite... together.

Ginny pocketed her receipt and shrugged. "It’s not up to him, is it?" She smiled. "I’m going to go to the Three Broomsticks and use the fireplace – shall we have a butterbeer before going back?"

"No," Hermione said, growing pensive again. "I have to get back and talk to Ron before he goes to work." She glanced at Ginny guiltily. "I still haven’t told him."

Дата добавления: 2015-11-04