The Lewis House 60 страница

He hugged Hermione for a long time. "It's good to have you back," he muttered eventually, and kissed her cheek before letting her go.

Hermione stared at him in obvious surprise and pleasure. Her eyes darted to Ginny, then back to Harry again, and she pressed her mouth shut on what Ginny could have sworn was a giggle. "That's new," was all she said.

"Shut up," said Harry. But he was grinning. He ducked his head and stepped back beside Ginny. "How was traveling?"

"Tiring!" Hermione flopped into the big wicker chair and smiled up at them. "I had to use a fixed Portkey in order to get off the island, and then the nearest international Apparition checkpoint was about a two mile walk uphill, or so it seemed at the time. I had to jump through three stations in order to get to the one at Diagon Alley. And of course, you have to rest when you're Apparating that often, or else you can make mistakes, so I sat in France for two hours before coming to London. It was the worst wait." Tired as she might have been, her words tumbled over each other in a rush, and she glanced past them again. "Where is, er - where are Sirius and Remus?"

Ginny and Harry shared a quick look. "They're here," Ginny said, and called out for them. The two men hurried down the hall, Remus in the lead, fine brown hair falling in his eyes. Sirius right behind him, his face and arms covered with what looked like a mild rash.

"Hermione!" Sirius knocked Remus out of the way, pulled Hermione out of her chair, and grabbed her up in a hug. "Lovely to see you, my dear." He stepped back and Hermione peered up at him.

"Are you ill?" she said anxiously.

"Ah, no. Pay no attention to the itching hex, or to these." Sirius held up his hands, which were swollen to twice their normal size. The knuckles had disappeared and it looked like he had balloons on the ends of his arms.

"What happened?" she gasped.

"He brought it on himself," Remus muttered, but he gave Hermione an easygoing smile and pushed his hair out of his face. He would have looked almost collected, had it not been for the redness in his cheeks, and Ginny could feel that he was still on the ready for a counterattack. He put out his hand and Hermione took it. "You look happy," he observed. "Glad to be home?"

"Oh yes." Hermione looked around the room at all of them, her face alight. "I can't believe I'm here - oh! Well hello!" She crouched down and held out her arms towards a fat, orange creature that had crept up behind all of them. Crookshanks launched himself at Hermione with a pitiful mewling noise that made everyone laugh. "Baby," Hermione said tenderly, and tickled the cat's ears. "I missed you, yes I did." Crookshanks gave a long, deep purr. Hermione stood up with the massive cat clutched to her chest and sent another telltale glance past Ginny and Harry. "I don't suppose there's tea?" she asked. "I'm starving."

Sirius waved his wand and a tray materialized in the air between them, laden with biscuits, cups, and a steaming teapot. "Tea, madam," he announced formally, a grin pulling at one side of his mouth. "And do have a seat. I've got a message for you."

"Oh?" Hermione asked, too casually. She dropped back into her chair and a flush rose in her cheeks. "What message?"

"An employee of mine - you might remember him - tall, hair like this one here," he tousled Ginny's hair with one of his deformed hands and she squealed in disgust. "I believe he's called Ron?"

Hermione kept her eyes on Crookshanks, who had curled up in her lap, and her color continued to rise. "Oh, Ron…yes, it… it does ring a bell."

Harry snickered. "I'll bet it -" he began to tease, then glanced at Ginny, reddened, and shut his mouth. Out of the corner of her eye, Ginny saw that Remus had turned his face to the two of them and was standing with arms crossed and eyes narrowed. She ignored him.

"I understand that this Ron fellow is keen to welcome you home," Sirius continued. "Unfortunately, his duties kept him in the office a bit longer than expected, and he asked me to express his deep regrets, should you arrive early, that… let's see, how did he put it? If Hermione gets there before I do, tell her I'm losing my bloody mind trying to get home? I think that was it."

Hermione laughed through her nose. "But he's on his way?" she asked softly, still concentrating on her cat.

"Yes." Sirius dropped his joking tone. "He's on his way. He won't be a minute later than he has to be."

"I know." Hermione was entirely pink now, and her fingers had disappeared nervously into Crookshanks' coat, but the confidence in her voice made Ginny warm all over. Ginny brushed the back of her hand against the back of Harry's, and he drummed his knuckles against hers in return. "Everyone have tea with me?" Hermione asked. She looked up and her eyes traveled over their faces. "There's so much I want to ask about."

Ginny sat beside Harry on the sofa, hoping that Remus wouldn't say anything about their proximity. He made a noise of disapproval but left it at that, and after Sirius had cleaned the pine needles out of the carpet, the five of them took tea and started talking.

"What did it look like?" "Have you got pictures of Delia?" "Does this mean you're licensed, or is there some sort of exam you have to take?" "Missed pumpkin pasties and butterbeer, didn't you?" "Honestly, you know Mum's going to feed you up the minute she sees you, you've got so thin." "Do you plan to go back?" "Will you apply to the Ministry now?"

Hermione laughed and answered everything, asking them questions in return. She focused longest on Harry, pinpointing him with a thousand questions about the dragons and dragging information from him on everything: the build of his uniform, Norbert's health, Charlie's management techniques, Viktor's new family, Dementors, chocolate, Azkaban and Draco Malfoy. "I have several things to say about those schedules, Harry," she finally said. "You know they're ridiculous and it's simply unethical to have you working those sorts of hours. They have to hire more riders, that's that, and if you won't do something about it then I will."

Harry rolled his eyes, but Ginny felt him relax more completely than he had in a long time. He felt very whole, beside her. "Charlie's been interviewing people," he said. "Ever since that article about Viktor, we've had people applying like mad for the dragon jobs."

"And ever since Eloise's article about you," Ginny added, knowing that Harry wouldn't.

He nudged her. "Anyway, most of the applicants are just insane. Only a few have even made it to the interviewing stage. I doubt any of them will actually get hired."

"Well they'd just better," Hermione said darkly.

Sirius shook his head, looking amazed. "Hermione, I haven't heard that much from Harry in four months put together," he said with a laugh. "Thanks."

"Yeah, thanks," Harry said dryly, but Ginny could tell he was happy. She crept her hand beneath his on the cushion, just behind their touching knees where no one could see, and he curled his fingers around hers.

Hermione's eyes drifted to where their wrists disappeared. She looked right at Ginny and when she smiled, her eyes crinkled at the corners. Ginny grinned back, thrilled to her toes. She hadn't said much about Harry in her letters to Cortona. Words had never been her strong point, and every time she'd tried to explain how she felt, it had come out sounding so much less than it was. Still, it had been so hard not to have a girlfriend to share this with. Hermione knew what it was like to fall in love and have it happen back. All the understanding in the world was in her friend's quiet smile, and Ginny found, to her surprise, that she wanted Harry to go home - not for long, of course, but she needed to talk with Hermione. Alone. Tell her everything ten times over and hear what she had to say in return.

As if she had spoken her wishes aloud, Remus stood up. "I have a few… chores to do," he said. "If you'll excuse me, Hermione - I'll take your bag up for you, if you like." He picked it up off the floor when Hermione didn't protest, and hefted it under his arm. "Glad you're home safely."

"Thank you, Remus."

"Yes, a pleasure catching up with you, Miss Granger," said Sirius, springing to his feet and shooting a deadly look at Remus's retreating back. He rested one still-swollen hand on his wand, and extended the other to Hermione. She wrinkled her nose at it and gave it a very quick pat.

"All right, Sirius."

"If my young employee is much later, you have my permission to flog him."

Hermione giggled. "I might."

Sirius took a step toward the door, stopped short, and looked over his shoulder at Harry. "Still thinking?" he asked abruptly. "Because like I said, I'll be happy to name the terms of the first round if -"

But Harry shook his head. "I have ideas," he said mysteriously. Ginny gave him a questioning look, but he wouldn't meet her eyes.

"All right then. You three have fun catching up." Sirius grinned around the room, and dashed away down the hall.

"What's wrong with them?" Hermione demanded. "Itching hexes and engorgement?"

Ginny and Harry rushed to explain, and soon the three of them were lost in laughter. They tried to fill her in on four months' worth of events in half an hour's time, trading off as new stories came into their minds, their tales uncensored now that Remus and Sirius had disappeared.

When there was no tea left in the pot and all but one pumpkin pasty (saved for Ron) had disappeared, Harry rubbed his thumb over Ginny's fingers and yawned. "I know you just got here, Hermione, but I'm falling asleep. No offense."

"I'm not offended - or surprised," Hermione said archly. "Those schedules, Harry, I mean it -"

"Okay, okay." Harry laughed. "You don't waste time, do you?"

"No." Hermione pursed her lips, but her eyes were soft and smiling. "Go home. I'll talk to you tomorrow." She got up when Harry did, and hugged him again. "I missed you so much."

"You too." He patted her back and left the room, but not before glancing in Ginny's direction.

Ginny gave Hermione a meaningful look, which Hermione returned, and followed Harry to the front door. The house was dark now, except for the glow of the Christmas lights from the tree in the front room, and the light from the sunroom at the end of the corridor. Harry mostly stood in shadow; the waning moon cut through the patterned window at the top of the door, illuminating a streak of his hair and the rims of his glasses.

"You're not Apparating?" she asked, resting her hands on his chest and smoothing the wool of his jumper just for an excuse to touch him.

"I am." Harry hesitated. "But I wanted to say goodnight - if you're still feeling well."

"Yes," Ginny whispered, and turned up her face.

Harry looked quietly at her for a long time before he kissed her. This time his mouth was gentle and slow; his hands touched her hips, then slid around to her lower back and pulled her as close to him as she would fit. Ginny grabbed his shoulders and held on, so dizzy with pleasure that she hardly remembered to kiss him in return. She opened her mouth and let her head fall back, wondering why it only felt amazing. She couldn't have got this good at controlling herself in so short a time -- could she? Even Namita Vibushan had said, in her book, that it had been a year before she had allowed her lover to come to her without fear of pain.

Harry broke away, breathing hard. "How is this all right?" he asked anxiously, as if Vibushan's words had stuck with him, too. He still hadn't returned that book. "Are you really all right? What's this mean, from now on?"

Ginny opened her eyes. He looked dazed, worried - hopeful. "I don't know," she said slowly. "I have been practicing, but I don't… You're so happy tonight that perhaps…" She stopped, not sure how to put it. Even the prospect of Dementors in the morning didn't seem to have an effect on Harry at the moment. "I think Hermione has a lot to do with it."

He was quiet for a long time. "It was weird without her," he finally said. "She's the closest thing I have to - you know. A sister." He said it awkwardly, but Ginny knew it was the truth. She wished Hermione could have heard him say it.

"Well sisterly advice is the best kind, you know." Ginny brushed the hair away from his forehead and pushed his glasses back up to the bridge of his nose. "Believe me, I give it all the time."

Harry gave a soft snort of laughter and shut his eyes, seeming to like having his glasses adjusted for him.

"You should go to sleep. I'll keep Hermione busy till Ron gets here, and I'll see you tomorrow if you're not too tired. And we can see if this is really all right. I'll talk to Remus."

Harry opened his eyes. "Are you going to tell Hermione about us?" He sounded strained.

Ginny shrugged. "She already knows."

"I know, but…" He glanced down the hall. "She'll ask questions."

"If I answer her, do you mind?"

"No." Harry went quiet. His hands were still on her back and he drummed his fingers as he studied her eyes. He looked into them as if he were trying to read something that was written there in tiny print, and Ginny had the sudden, distinct impression that he was going to ask her a question himself. He seemed to be struggling against something, and for the first time since Hermione had come home, Ginny felt her head pound. She winced. Something was badly troubling him.

"What is it, Harry?"

"It's nothing, I was only…" He shifted his eyes away and let her go. "It's nothing. I don't want to- never mind."

"No, tell me, what?"

"I'm just tired." He looked away and Ginny knew there was more to it than that. Before she could press him, Harry leaned in and gave her a quick, soft kiss on the corner of her mouth. "But I'm glad we…" he began, and stopped. Ginny could feel the heat from his face. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Yes." She touched his shoulder. "Your arm still feels all right?"

"It hasn't bothered me at all."

"Good. Be careful at work." Ginny let him go. "Goodnight." And before she had to watch him Disapparate, she turned and went back down the corridor.

~*~

"So, what’d you end up spending the Knut on?" asked Ron, trying to make conversation with the boy sitting across from him. Several rolls of parchment were stacked between them, and Ron was currently filling out yet another M.L.E.S. form.

The boy, who had told them his name was "Max" while refusing to divulge any other information, sniffed, and answered, "A Knut doesn’t go far these days." He wiped his nose with the sleeve of his dirty robe, which had grown filthier since the last time Ron had seen him, hovering next to the Ministry steps. So had his hair and skin; still, Ron had recognized him at once.

Amos Diggory walked into the office, a wide smile making the hairs on his beard stand out.

"Well, which one is it?" Diggory asked, turning to Max. "I’ve just spoken with Headmistress McGonagall. Are you Max Franklin, Max Jarvis, or David Mackston? All three were at Hogwarts recently, and we’re checking now to see if any of them can be located."

"I can’t remember," said the boy, flipping some hair out of his eyes. "Max Franklin was in Slytherin, and really, really smart. Max Jarvis was in Ravenclaw and all the girls liked him. David Mackston was in Hufflepuff. Which one do you think I am?"

"I think you’re the obnoxious one," said Ron, waving the last parchment in the air so that it would dry more quickly. "As a matter of fact, is it all right with you, Mr. Diggory, if I just put his last name down as ‘Prat’ on this paperwork? That’s the most accurate description."

Max glared. "Are you really going to send me home with him? I think I’m better off on the streets, quite honestly," he said. Ron was once again reminded of Draco Malfoy by the haughty tone in the boy’s voice.

Mr. Diggory laughed. "You don’t know what you’re saying, boy." He patted Max on the head while Max cringed away as much as his bindings would let him. "Molly Weasley is the best cook I know – even her toast is first class. That’s got to be better than the snakes and snails you’ve been living off of in Knockturn Alley."

"In a cellar," said Ron, standing up and cracking his knuckles. He’d never, ever seen such a pile of paperwork before. After following Mr. Diggory down the corridor to the M.L.E.S. office, and waiting for him to deposit a kicking-and-screaming Max into a secure chair, Ron had stepped in, and tried to find out what had happened.

This time, Max had been caught trying to steal a wand from a wizard shopping for winter cloaks in Diagon Alley. Mr. Diggory had happened by, and, recognizing Max as part of a gang of several children who usually kept to Knockturn Alley, had pulled him in. The M.L.E.S. were reluctant to send Max back to the Children’s Home since he always managed to escape, and Ron had, without thinking, offered to take Max to the Burrow. He’d run down the hall to tell Sirius to go ahead without him, and hurried back to the M.L.E.S. office, hoping to collect Max and drop him off before five. It was after seven, and Hermione was surely at Lupin Lodge by now, and Ron was beginning to have second thoughts about the whole situation.

"Thanks a lot," hissed Max.

Ron shrugged. "You still owe me for running off that time," he said. "Now we’re even." He turned to Mr. Diggory. "Er, how am I supposed to get him home? Can I use a Full Body Bind? Or the Leg Locker Curse?"

"Oh no, no, no, no!" Mr. Diggory looked shocked. "We can’t use those on children. There're rules."

"Yeah," snorted Max. "There’re rules."

"Children, right," said Ron, getting irritated. "What about monsters?"

"We’ve got a fireplace hooked up in the back, here. We can keep him tied up. Got to stop and take a picture real quick though. I’ll send it off to McGonagall to see if any of the Hogwarts staff can identify him. It might be difficult though. They grow so much at this age…" Mr. Diggory trailed off, and Ron wondered if he was thinking of his own son, Cedric. "Anyway," he smiled and continued, "it’s good of you to take him, Ron. Your mum will know of some ways to keep him around the Burrow. Tell her that one of our representatives will be out to check on things tomorrow morning."

Mr. Diggory untied Max from the chair. Max tried to lean forward and bite Mr. Diggory’s arm as they walked down the hall. Ron rolled his eyes. "You’re twelve," he said. "I stopped trying to bite people when I was three."

When they reached the fireplace, Ron stopped, feeling panicked. "How’re we going to get him to pick the right fireplace?" he asked, jerking his head towards Max.

"Ah, right." Mr. Diggory looked uncomfortable. "Well, we either have to put him in something, or you have to carry him."

"That’s child abuse!" said Max, getting ready to kick Mr. Diggory. Ron held out his wand and made the cords extend to Max’s ankles. He might as well have been in a Full Body Bind. He couldn’t walk anywhere; that was for sure.

Feeling somewhat evil, Ron grinned and held out his arms. "Come on then." Mr. Diggory picked up Max and set him to rest in front of Ron. Ron reached for his briefcase, then scooped his arms under Max’s and waited for Mr. Diggory to throw the Floo powder into the fire.

"The Burrow," said Ron, as he stepped into the fireplace.

He’d never known anyone to move so much during a Floo trip. Although he’d traveled by Floo enough for it to feel normal, Ron still liked to stay as still as possible as he sped through the chimneys and past the other fireplaces. Max was struggling, and Ron was afraid more than once that he’d accidentally drop him off at a random location, but he managed to hold on until the end. Within seconds, they tumbled out of the spacious fireplace at the Burrow.

"Arthur! Is that…" Molly Weasley’s voice trailed off as she walked into her kitchen to see her son, a strange child, and an enormous amount of soot on the floor.

"Hi, Mum!" he said brightly, pulling himself and Max off the floor, and sitting Max on one of the benches around the big table. "This is Max."

"Hello, Max," said Mrs. Weasley as though she were talking to any other friend he might have brought home. "I’m very pleased to meet you."

"Sod off," said Max.

Ron felt his ears start to burn. He’d dared to swear once in front of his mother. The punishment had been enough for him to still feel pain when others did so. But to his surprise, his mother just smiled as though he’d told her he was doing very well, thank you.

"Ron," she said sweetly. "Why don’t we show your friend the garage? There are lots of lovely things to look at in there, and he can occupy himself while I finish making the tea."

Tucking Max, who could have used about a month’s worth of cauldron cakes, under an arm, Ron followed his mother to the garage, thinking that it was an odd place for his mother to want to place a guest of any kind. The garage was still very much Mr. Weasley’s hideaway. Devoid of the Ford Anglia for years, the empty space had quickly filled in with an odd assortment of plugs, machinery, and several mysterious large objects covered with blankets. Topping the one window was a multi-colored display of batteries, arranged by size.

"What is this, a Muggle dungeon?" asked Max, taking everything in. "What crazy wizard lives here? You people are crazy. I’m going to complain to the Minister of Magic."

"Untie him, dear," said Mrs. Weasley. When Ron shook his head at her in warning, she just smiled. "It’s all right, you can untie him." She turned to Max. "I’ll arrange for the Minister himself to pay you a visit very soon, how’s that? Tea will be ready in about half an hour." Gently, she guided Ron out of the garage, shot an Unbreakable Charm at one of the larger, shrouded objects, and shut the door on Max.

Once outside, Ron watched as his mother placed a few more charms on the garage itself. "Nothing harmful, dear," she said, as they went back into the house. "All very legal. It will keep him inside." She walked over to the big cauldron and began to stir. "Now, why don’t you tell me who he is and what's going on?"

In a rush, Ron explained his first meeting with Max, and then how he’d come across Mr. Diggory and Max earlier that afternoon. "So, what else could I do? He’d just end up back in Knockturn Alley, and that can’t be good. It's amazing he hasn't been sold for parts by now, down there -"

"Ronald!"

"Well? So I thought I’d just be able to bring him here, but they made me fill out all this paperwork and - would you keep him?"

His mother jumped. "Keep him?" she echoed. She lowered her voice. "Ronald Weasley, what are you talking about? Do you mean for the evening, or -"

"I don't know, I - I thought you might want him," Ron said, but as his mother's expression grew more and more shocked, he began to think that bringing Max here might have been a really stupid idea.

"Might want him," she said flatly. "To live here?" Her eyes narrowed and she gave him a truly scary look. "For how long, exactly, did you consider this before you decided to do it?"

Ron gulped and took a step back. That was the voice she used on his dad when there was a serious problem. "Er… not that long?"

"I see." His mother pressed her lips together and turned to her cauldron. "But I suppose," she continued scathingly, "that since you know how simple it is to raise a child, it's perfectly all right for you to drop one in our laps."

"I - Mum, I wasn't trying to - I just thought -"

"That's exactly what you didn't do!" cried his mother, slapping her spoon on the rim of the cauldron and making stew fly everywhere. "Think!"

Ron backed out of the kitchen to take a quick look at the clock. Damn. Hermione must be ready to kill him by now, and his mother wasn't going to do anything about Max - now he was going to have to take the kid back up to Diagon Alley and spend another two hours trying to put him back -

"Mum please," he begged. "Let me come back tomorrow and take care of this - just take Max for the night, please, and I'll deal with it later, but Hermione's home today, she's been home for two or three hours by now, and I'm late." He stood there practically panting, his heart racing. Please let her say yes, please let her say yes…

His mother stopped stirring. She turned away from the cauldron and stared at him. "Hermione came home today?" she repeated blankly. "She's there now?"

Ron felt a warm, nervous clutch at his heart. It was the sort of feeling he hadn't had about Hermione since fifth year - he felt insecure and violently hormonal. She was there. He was about to see her. Touch her. Hear her voice.

"She should have been there around five," he answered, hardly noticing his mother's eyes widen, "So if you could just hold onto Max - at least for tonight, we can sort it out tomorrow - I want to get home."

His mother made a muffled noise that Ron could not interpret - it might have been indignation.

He threw up his hands. "Look, I'm sorry to just throw him at you without any warning, but please, Mum-"

"Of course I'll look after him!" Now she sounded indignant. Her eyes narrowed and she waved her long-handled spoon like a paddle. "Go home right this instant! I can't believe you've kept Hermione waiting for three hours, she must be exhausted with traveling!"

Дата добавления: 2015-11-04