The Lewis House 96 страница

Molly had given every boy a chore: Matthew, being strongest, had taken the gnomes; David, being the most fastidious, had happily helped her to sort and hang the laundry; Ralph, being the most energetic, had run down to the village to try a bit of shopping - it was the first time Molly had trusted him with money and she wanted to see how it went, and Adam had asked if he could gather herbs in the woods. He was always doing that, and it was somehow comforting to have an intellectual boy in the house again. Adam loved to study things in books and then try to duplicate them in the world. In the past two months, he'd taken a real shine to Herbology, and Molly encouraged it. His forays into the forest were beneficial to both the potions cupboard and the pantry.

"Molly?" Fleur called from the front room. "Are there really no pictures of Bill?"

Molly hurried in to find her oldest son bent over a difficult game of chess, looking chagrined. His lovely fiancée sat across from him, seeming perfectly at ease. Molly was still in shock from Bill's announcement. He'd introduced Fleur only a few weeks ago, and then one day he'd carried her out of the room, and the following weekend he had spoken to his parents very seriously about how much in love he was, and what his intentions were. Molly hadn't dared to believe it. But two days ago Bill had announced their formal engagement, and today here they were, as if they'd always been here.

Arthur had seemed strangely unsurprised by the sudden turn of events. "We tend to fall hard, in this family," he'd said, when Molly had questioned him. "Hard and fast. Bill's no different from me, I was just fortunate enough to strike gold earlier in my life, wasn't I? Rather like Ron, I imagine." And Molly had melted. In her opinion, any man who could make a speech like that off the top of his head ought to be Minister for the rest of his natural life.

"Pictures, dear?" Molly went to the large, uneven bookcase. It covered an entire wall and had been charmed several times to fit right under the uneven roof. It slanted steeply, and books fell against each other pell-mell, in all colors, shapes and sizes, packed together in no discernable order. But Molly put her hand on Bill's baby album in less than two seconds. "Would you prefer baby pictures? Childhood pictures? Photographs of him in school robes? Or would you like the album of our trip to Egypt, when he was a bit older?"

"All of them, please." Fleur gave Bill a wide, white smile across the chess table. "I knew there were photographs, you 'orrible liar."

"You'll be sorry you looked. I wasn't always this attractive."

Fleur laughed and came to the bookshelf to carry away the albums that Molly was more than happy to dig out.

"I kept all his old papers, as well," Molly whispered, patting Fleur's shoulder. "Very interesting reading, let me assure you. And his old drawings are filed away in the attic - I don't suppose he told you what an artist he used to be?"

"Were you an artist?" Fleur asked him, looking amused.

Bill gave his mother a dirty look. "No," he said, and went back to chewing his lip and studying a bishop. "Ah," he said suddenly. "There it is." He moved his bishop with decision and Fleur put the albums on the table. She returned to her chair to chew on her thumbnail and study the board.

"I've got you!" came a furious shout from the front garden. "You're going over the fence, you stupid gnome! That's what you get for biting my finger -"

"Look out!" Adam's voice was distinctive. "You almost hit me in the head!"

"Sorry, Adam."

"S'all right." The front door flew open and Adam cleared his throat. "J'ai les herbes," he announced.

"Tres bien!" Fleur cried. She clapped her hands. "Et les fleurs aussi?"

"Erm. Oui?" Adam held up a posy of foxgloves. "Are these the ones you wanted?"

"En Francais," Fleur rebuked.

"Erm… Est…no, wait. Tu a desire - never mind." Adam shook his head and waved Fleur off when she tried to help him. "No, I have to ask you some new words."

"D'accord. And yes, those are the ones I wanted, merci, Adam."

Adam deposited the foxgloves on top of the picture albums that lay stacked on the table and handed the basket of other herbs to Molly before he went to hover over Bill's shoulder. Molly thought it was positively dear, the way Adam worshipped Bill, and his new fascination with French was probably very good for him. After all, he wouldn't get a language course at Hogwarts.

"Did you bring the pictures?" Adam asked Fleur. "Er - avez-vous les photos?"

Fleur pointed to her bag, on the sofa, and Adam brought it to her. She opened it and took out two photographs, which she handed to him. "Be very careful, please."

"I will." Adam studied the pictures for a moment, then handed them back to Fleur, holding them carefully by the corners. "Thank you," he said seriously. "Merci."

Molly watched, proud of Adam's good manners in handling a delicate matter. Adam had asked several questions about Fleur's outburst, the other week, and though they had all warned him not to be nosy or hurtful, he had been terribly curious about Fleur's lost sister. Molly supposed it was natural. After all, he had lost his parents, and probably wanted to know about other people's losses, so that he had something to compare his to. He had asked to see pictures of Gabrielle, and Fleur had not seemed too upset, although she had forgotten to bring them more than once.

"How do you say 'follow me'?"

Fleur replaced the pictures in her bag and Molly watched, wishing that she felt comfortable asking to see them. But she didn't know Fleur well enough yet.

"Suivez moi."

Adam pulled a quill and crumpled bit of parchment out of his pocket. "Sweevay mwah," he repeated. He licked his lips.

"Taking notes today?" Bill grinned at him. "That's my boy."

Adam nodded. "How do you say 'Do you have a sister'?"

Fleur looked startled. She opened her mouth and shook her head. "It… depends on whom you are asking. If it is an adult, then 'Avez-vous une soeur?'"

"What do I say if it's my friend?"

"As-tu une soeur?"

"Ah too oon sur. Let me write that down." Adam scribbled on his parchment. "All right, and how do you say 'wait here?'"

"Attendez ici."

Adam scribbled again. "Merci!" he said, and ran out of the house.

"De rien!" Fleur called after him. "'E is a sweet boy," she said quietly to no one, when he had gone.

"Yeah, he is." Bill took Fleur's hand under the table and caught her eyes. "And he's taken with you."

Molly retreated into the kitchen, not wanting to spoil their moment, and watched out the window for Ralph, who was a long time in returning. She was surprised to see Adam running back towards the woods without his basket, clutching his parchment in his hands. He was such a wonderful, strange child. She smiled and shook her head and focused on a little racing dot far up the road, knowing that it must have been Ralph.

Sure enough, Ralph hurtled into the Burrow at top speed a few minutes later, carrying two bags in his hands and a parcel under his arm. "I - need - a - wand -" he panted. "I - could have - made - this - stuff - weightless!" He dumped the groceries onto the kitchen table, along with Molly's change. "You got a - parcel - from - Harry Potter! Owl - ran - into me - in the - garden!"

Molly picked the parcel up and tore open the plain brown wrapping, wondering why Harry hadn't simply brought it over himself. And then she forgot to wonder anything at all. Harry had sent a pink satin princess hat. What on earth was the matter with him? She opened his note.

Dear Mrs. Weasley,

This ended up in my hands and I can't think what to do with it. Since you're inviting so many kids over to the Burrow (which I think is great, by the way - those kids are really lucky) I thought you might be able to give this to one of the girls, if there are any.

See you soon,

Harry

Molly pocketed the note and ran a wistful hand over the pointed pink hat. Harry had always been such a dear young man - almost like one of her own children, and certainly just as strange as the rest of them. It was just like him to send something along with someone else in mind. Molly only wished that there was a little girl here to enjoy it. She still felt terrible about Ella, who hadn't been in the Burrow for five minutes before she'd clawed her way out and sprinted away. No tracking spell had been able to find her, and no Muggle orphanage had taken her in. She hadn't returned to her hideout in Knockturn Alley, and St. Mungo's Children's Home had no idea where she was. Molly hadn't even had time to see her bathed and fed. She hoped that the child wasn't ill, or hurt - she hoped Ella was somehow surviving and that she would be found. But hope grew fainter all the time.

"Thank you for doing the shopping, Ralph," she said, returning her attention to the child who was there with her, and waiting for approval. "Why don't you go and help Matthew with the rest of the gnomes?"

"But I just -"

"I know. But I'll be outside in a minute with biscuits and juice, and we'll all take a nice, long break. How does that sound?"

Ralph must have thought it sounded good. He sprinted back outside, and Molly heard a gnome screech in terror. She laughed to herself and whipped together a batch of biscuits and a pitcher of juice, pleased with the progress her urchins were making. Floating the snacks in the air, she went out to the garden, wondering how it was possible to find a house too quiet, when there were four children and an engaged couple in it.

~*~

Bill wasn't sure what was more amazing - that he had actually fallen in love at first sight, or that he had very nearly thrown it away. He sat at the little chess table, listening to the chatter of boys in the garden, and felt so content that it frightened him. This couldn't be real, she hadn't said yes - he had to ask again. He had to see the proof.

"Give me your hand."

Fleur blushed and extended her left one, and Bill took it, gazing at the ring he'd put on her finger. It was modest. Not as much as she deserved. But she'd cried when he'd given it to her and she'd accepted it with such joy in her eyes that Bill wasn't sure he wanted to upgrade it. It was the ring he'd asked with, so it was the ring that mattered, and he knew that Fleur felt the same way.

"I'm in love with you." He turned over her hand and kissed the inside of her wrist.

She blushed more deeply. "Bill, please, it is your mother's house."

But that was half the fun. Furtively telling her such things, grabbing her hand under the table - he'd missed out on falling in love with her in school, when there was still a chance to sneak about and get caught in empty classrooms. He'd had girlfriends back then, and he knew what fun it was. He wished he'd had Fleur all along, but then, he supposed, part of her charm was that there was so much he had yet to find out about her. She was a mystery in so many ways, and his in all the essential ones. He couldn't believe how much time he'd wasted. Nearly a year. All because of her blood. It embarrassed him - he'd fought a war over similar prejudices, and his hypocrisy had only lately occurred to him.

"Fleur…" He moved his mouth further up her arm, bit by bit until his mouth rested on the tender skin that marked the inside of her elbow.

"Stop," she whispered, but she didn't pull her arm away. She only looked at him through half-lowered eyelids that made him want to get back to her flat in a hurry.

"Want to leave?"

"Non, I want to finish our game. And I want to see your baby photographs, do not think you can make me forget!"

"I can make you forget." He grinned up at her and abandoned her arm to reach across the table and take her face in his hands. He had just put his mouth to hers when a door swung open, and a distinctly English voice spoke very loud, bad French at the back of the house.

"Ah tan day ee see, all right? Look, just wait here - no, trust me! I should have asked how to say trust me."

"Avez confiance en moi!" Fleur called over her shoulder, and turned back to Bill, giggling. "'E is so cute. Who is 'e talking to?"

"Who knows?"

"Ah vay con fee ans en mwah, okay?" Adam said, still very loudly. "And ah tan day ee see. Great. See you in a minute - DON'T LEAVE." He came running into the room, red in the face as if he'd been running. "Fleur, I found someone," he said. "I think you - I hope - I -" He stopped and looked at Bill. "You know, it's probably better if I make sure I'm right, can you give me a minute?"

Fleur smiled indulgently, and Adam pulled Bill out of his chair and into the back hall of the Burrow. "I got Ella to come back here," Adam whispered, and jerked his thumb at the back door. "She's right out there."

Bill was shocked. "Adam, have you known where she was all along? My mum's been losing her mind!"

"I know but I couldn't do anything, I swear, I tried every day. I kept bringing her food - Bill, I think she's Gabrielle."

Bill clapped a hand over Adam's mouth. "Shut up," he hissed. "Don't say things like that, that's not the sort of thing you joke around -"

"Mf Mrr!"

"What?" Bill took his hand away.

"I'm not! I wouldn't joke!" Adam tossed back his fringe. "Why d'you think I wanted to see the pictures and learn the French? She's been staying in the abandoned barn out in the woods past the Quidditch glen because she doesn't trust grown ups and she hardly trusts me now that I let the M.L.E.S. drag her out of our spot in Knockturn Alley, but she's out there!"

Bill gazed down at Adam, full of wishful sadness. "You're great," he said quietly. "To think of Fleur like that. But her sister's been missing for a year and a half, and there's no way - they found her wand in that grave, you heard the story." Bill lowered his voice. "How would a thirteen year old from Mont Ste. Mireille get to London?"

"Won't you just look at her? Then you can ask whatever you want. I don't know how the hell -"

"Adam."

"Well this is worth swearing about!" Adam tugged Bill's sleeve and dragged him towards the back door. "Please, come on, you have to at least look - please, Bill, please."

There was no point in resisting. Especially if Ella was really outside. Bill let Adam tug him to the door and open it.

Bill looked at the filthy, bedraggled child who stood on flight-ready tiptoes on the back stoop of the Burrow, and he wished that she was Gabrielle. But this child was obviously… thinner. Dirtier. Taller. Older than the pictures Fleur had shown him. With the same piercing eyes. The same masses of filthy, but obviously very blonde hair all the way to her knees. The little bump on her nose. The double freckle right on the tip of the bump, which might have been dirt, but wasn't.

"Gabrielle?" Bill whispered. He couldn't allow himself to hope. Because it was… outrageous. It wasn't possible. And they couldn't afford to be wrong; it would kill Fleur. "Gabrielle Delacour?"

The little girl breathed hard, clearly ready to launch herself away from the house and sprint back to the woods at the first sign of trouble. She backed down steps, her sharp blue eyes darting from Bill to Adam and lingering on Adam as if to accuse him of lying. She stumbled off the bottom step, her hands out, and backed further from the house.

"Your sister's inside," Bill told her, hoping to stop her from running, but she continued to back away, checking over her shoulder to see where she wanted to go.

"Ta sore ay en the house," Adam translated at once, pointing to the house. "See, you have to know French. Ella doesn't really speak anything, but I heard her singing once, and I know it's the language she used to speak."

Bill stepped off the top stair and held out his hand. "Ella," he entreated. "Gabrielle." He took another step down.

As soon as his foot hit the bottom of the back steps, the little girl turned and ran flat out towards the woods.

"Catch her!" Adam shouted. "We have to catch her, because she won't go back to the barn after this and then I won't know where to find her!"

Bill ran. He couldn't remember ever running this fast; his lungs felt as though they were on fire and would burst at any moment. His legs pounded, jarring against the earth with every step. He heard his ragged breathing in his ears; he saw the little girl check over her shoulder, saw the terror register on her face as she realized he was gaining on her - amazingly, she put on more speed and flew ahead of him, out of his reach.

She had almost reached the woods before Bill remembered that he had a wand. He pulled it and pointed it at her disappearing back.

"Petrificus Totalus!" he cried.

The little girl came to a sudden, frozen halt and toppled to the ground. Bill caught up with her and, though he felt terrible that he'd made her feel as horrified as she obviously was, he floated her into the air. She was stiff as a board.

"I'm sorry," he said, knowing that it was useless if she couldn't understand him. "I'm sorry. I'll explain later." Without wasting more time, he brought her back to the Burrow.

"Good job you had a wand!" Adam said, as Bill guided Ella's body forward and into the house.

"Good job I remembered it," Bill muttered. He floated the little girl into the back hall and stopped before he went into the front room. If this was Fleur's sister - if it, by some miracle, was truly Gabrielle - then this was not the reunion he wished for them. Not frozen and terrified. He set the girl on her feet and held her up by the shoulders, leaning her against the wall so that he could repeal the hex. "Don’t run," he whispered to her, and then he raised his voice. "Fleur?"

"Yes?"

"Could you give me a hand?" He heard her chair move, heard her footsteps coming towards the hall. He swished and flicked, and released Gabrielle from the Full Body Bind, then blocked the hall as fast as he could. It was just fast enough. The moment she had her limbs back, the girl flung herself at him and tried to escape once more.

"No, Ella, don't!" Adam shouted, behind him.

Fleur appeared at the other end of the corridor and gasped. "Mon Dieu," she said. "What is this? Who is this child?"

"The one who - ran away -" Bill managed, wincing as the girl threw herself against him again, not bothering to watch where her knees went. Or perhaps she was watching a little too well. She hit him again, and Bill doubled over in agony. "Ella," he wheezed. "I think she speaks French - help me out here -"

Fleur spoke commandingly and far too quickly for Bill to understand the French that she was using. But the little girl obviously got the point. She stopped her knee in midair and pulled it back, and Bill gasped gratefully. He wasn't sure he could have stood it again quite so soon.

Fleur spoke again and the little girl began to shake. Her eyes were still on Bill, but he was sure she wasn't seeing him; she had gone pale under the dirt on her face and her eyes, even brighter blue than Fleur's, swam with sudden tears. She took a half-breath and tried to speak, but nothing came out. She put out a grubby hand and leaned against the wall.

"Non," she whispered, keeping her back to Fleur. "Non, non. C'est un reve, c'est un reve, c'est seulement un reve -"

Fleur faltered. Bill watched her face as it catalogued every possible expression of shock and disbelief. "C'est un reve," she repeated in a whisper. "Seulement un reve…" She stood close to the wall and leaned her fingers lightly against it, at her hip, as if needing to support herself. "Gab…" she began, and stopped. She shook her head. "I am mad."

But the little girl didn't seem to think so. She turned slowly away from Bill to face Fleur. As if presenting herself, she pushed her hair behind her shoulders and wiped her hands across her cheeks. It could not have done much for her appearance, but she stood tall, with her chin in the air, and waited.

Fleur drew a strange, hissing breath. She began to reach out one hand. She leaned heavily against the wall, but it was not enough to hold her up. Seconds later, she had fallen to her knees. "Gabrielle?" she managed in a faint, terrified voice.

Bill couldn't see the little girl's face, but her voice was enough. "Fleur?" she managed on a cracked, dry breath. "Fleur?"

The sound that escaped Fleur was part laugh, part sob, part something Bill was sure was reserved for the afterlife. He stood back and watched in wonder as Fleur reached up her hands to her sister. When Gabrielle stumbled to her and fell into her arms Fleur gasped, closed her eyes, and clutched the girl to her heart. For a long time, it seemed she could do nothing at all; there was only mingled, ragged breathing, and an expression of ecstatic disbelief mingled with terrible, unbearable pain, and hands that trembled as they stroked and clutched at long, dirty blonde hair.

"Ils m'avaient dis que tu etais mort," Gabrielle choked, "Toi, et maman et papa - sont ils morts?"

Fleur pulled back, shaking. "Non," she whispered. "Ils ne sont pas morts." She took her sister's face in her hands, and her eyes were full of tears. "Gabrielle." She leaned her forehead to her sister's. "Ma petite, ma cherie, Gabrielle… c'est une miracle, c'est impossible -"

Gabrielle began to cry. She flung her arms around her sister's neck and broke down completely.

Fleur shut her eyes and began to speak in such rapturous, tearful, disjointed French that Bill had no idea what she was saying. He only knew that she had been given back one of the dead, and that she could not comprehend it. Just as he would not have been able to comprehend it if Percy had walked through the door.

Gabrielle huddled against Fleur, sobbing and clutching her. Fleur rocked her, still speaking quickly and jerkily, barely managing words through her own tears, running her hands over and over her sister's tangled hair and pulling away from her every so often to gaze at her face, say her name, kiss both her cheeks and clasp her close once more.

Bill slipped quietly past them and went to find his mother.

She was standing in the garden, giving a lesson on the magical significance of the flowers that grew there.

"Mum?" His voice was unsteady.

"Just a minute, Bill. Now, black-eyed Susans are wonderful for -"

"No, Mum. It's an emergency."

His mother whirled around. "Who's hurt, is it Adam?"

"No one's hurt - you boys can stay here and study." He held the door open for his mother and shut it behind her.

"What's the mat-"

"Shh." He gestured to the hall. "They're right there." Bill put a hand on her shoulder to stop her from charging to the back of the house. "Mum, the… most amazing thing just..." He tried to work his voice, but found it had got stuck in the back of his throat.

"Bill! Sweetheart, what is it?" His mother reached up, looking very anxious, and wiped away the tear that had just sneaked out of his eye.

"The little girl who ran away," he said jerkily. "Ella. Adam found her in that old barn where Charlie used to keep his animals."

"Out in the woods!" His mother's eyes flew wide. "All by herself, the poor little thing, is she hurt? Is she hungry?"

"No, she's -" Bill sniffed and swiped the back of his hand across his eyes. "Mum, she's Fleur's sister. She's Gabrielle Delacour. I don't know how it all happened, but they're in the back hall, they're -"

But his mother had gone stark white. She around him and hurried into the back of the house. Bill followed, and looked over her shoulder at the two girls who still sat on the floor, unaware of the world around them, wrapped around each other with their eyes closed, lost in joy. They clung together as if afraid they'd be separated again at any second.

"Mon ange," Fleur mumbled, stroking her sister's hair. "Mon ange."

"I'm going to get them a spot of tea," his mother whispered. "And put them to bed. With rest, they'll… recover from the shock."

Bill didn't think it was the sort of shock a person could ever recover from. He imagined that his heart wouldn't beat for several days, if Percy showed up alive and well. But he didn't stop his mother from going to get the tea, because he didn't have any better ideas. He stood and leaned against the wall, watching Fleur's face. Her eyes were closed, her face tense and tearstained. But light shone out of her, radiating around her, making the hallway strangely bright.

Beyond them, the back door stood open, and Bill remembered that there was someone outside who deserved enormous thanks. He passed Fleur without touching her - he didn't want to wake her from the dream of her sister - and went out into the yard. It was warm and comfortable outside; the long grass swayed in the breeze and across the gardens, the trees rustled. Bill shut the door behind him and went down the steps.

"Adam?" he called.

There was no reply but the clucking of chickens in the coop. Bill went around the side of the Burrow and looked in all directions. "Adam?" He went to the other side of the house and tried again, but to no avail.

"He's not here."

The voice had come from the front garden. Bill went to the front of the house and saw David pointing towards the woods.

"He ran down there after Molly went inside."

"Thanks," said Bill, and started walking in the direction that Adam had run. He knew where to find him, and after a half-hour's walk in the woods, Bill came upon a farm building even more ramshackle than the Burrow. Sure enough, from inside the dilapidated barn came the sound of someone crying as if he'd choke.

Дата добавления: 2015-11-04