The Lewis House 98 страница

She took her toothbrush from the holder, put it into her bag, and went downstairs. Harry came into the front room from the kitchen holding a bag of groceries, with Remus right behind him.

"Give me the food, Harry. Hermione, have you eaten?"

Hermione didn't know where her voice had gone.

"She hasn't," Harry answered for her, "and there's enough in there for both of them. I'm going to get Ron, all right, Hermione?" He put his hand on her shoulder. "All right? It's going to be okay. We'll see you at St. Mungo's in just a minute."

Harry was gone.

Remus quickly crossed the room and put a hand beneath Hermione's elbow. She realized she'd been just about to fall. The room spun. She was dizzy and afraid. "I'm trying not to get my hopes up," she said. Her voice felt thick and sounded far away. "Because I know how unlikely it is. I do know. I'm very realistic. I've kept it in mind all the time." She looked absently around the room. "They'll probably be in hospital forever. But if they wake up… I'll… move home with them." She hadn't thought about that before. She hadn't been home except once. She wondered how long it would take to repair the damage that the Death Eaters had done to the house; she couldn't move her parents back without taking care of all of it. If they should be awake… really awake… then she didn't want them to have any reminders.

"I don't think you should Apparate," Remus said gently. "Are you all right to use the fireplace?"

Hermione nodded and let him guide her into it. He threw the powder in for her, and green flames rose high.

"St. Mungo's," Hermione managed, and Lupin Lodge flickered out as the world began to spin.

A/N II:

"J'ai les herbes" means "I have the herbs"

"Et les fleurs aussi?" means "And the flowers too?"

"C'est un reve, c'est un reve, c'est seulement un reve" means "It's a dream, it's a dream, it's only a dream"

"Ils m'avaient dis que tu etais mort… Toi, et maman et papa - sont ils morts?" means "They told me you were dead… You and Mum and Dad. Are they dead?"

"Non. Ils ne sont pas morts." means "No. They're not dead."

"Ma petite, ma cherie… c'est une miracle, c'est impossible" means "My little one, my sweet one… it's a miracle, it's impossible."

"Mon ange" means "My angel"

Chapter Forty

Ron's Secret

~*~

A/N: Thanks to Arabella's sister, who suggested Ron's secret over a year ago.

We owe our first-born children to the beta readers: Cap'n Kathy, Caroline, CoKerry, Firelocks and Moey

~*~

Twenty-four hours later, Harry hovered in the doorway of the Grangers' room with Ron, watching Ginny. He and Ron had slept in hallway chairs, and even Hermione, who was the only one Ginny had allowed into the room, had slept a little. But Ginny had stayed awake, and it was wearing on her; there were shadows on her face, and her eyes were glazed and bloodshot. Her mouth hung open as she moved between the Grangers' beds, massaging sections of air with her hands and stopping every so often to lay her palm on one of their foreheads.

"Come on." Ginny rested her thumbs between Mrs. Granger's eyebrows and rubbed her fingertips against her temples. "It's all right. There's nothing to be afraid of." Ginny lifted her hands, closed her eyes, and drew her hands away from Mrs. Granger as if she were pulling away an invisible skin. "They're gone. You're safe."

Mrs. Granger did not stir. Harry knew that Ginny was privy to feelings that the rest of them were not, but from the outside, the Grangers didn't seem any different. Ginny suddenly backed away from Mrs. Granger's bed and put her hands over her eyes. "Stop," she muttered. "Stop it."

"Ginny, are you all right?" Hermione whispered. She started to get out of her chair.

"I can't have the door open," Ginny said, rubbing her eyes. "I can't separate things anymore. I'm losing focus. Shut the door, Ron, and stay out in the hall. I'm sorry."

Ron did as he was told and sank into one of the hallway chairs. He looked ill and tired, and his freckles, like Ginny's, stood out on his skin. Harry sat next to him.

"My mum's going to want to know about this," Ron said after a minute, in a scratchy voice.

"Probably better to wait," Harry said.

"I know." Ron leaned forward, rested his elbows on his knees and put his face in his hands. "I can't get that day out of my head. I can't get that look on her face out of my head, this has to work."

Harry couldn't stop remembering it either. Watching Hermione lose her parents had been hell.

"I hate being helpless." Ron shoved his fingers into his hair and looked at the floor. "You know I've been trying to find something on Malfoy, for this. And I can't - there's nothing."

"He might not have known about it."

"The hell he didn't!" Ron barked. "They'd never have targeted her family if it hadn't been for him and his father. There was no other reason."

Except that she's one of my closest friends. But Harry didn't say the words out loud. Ron would only have denied that it was true, and it didn't help anyone anyway.

"How can Ginny not tell me what she knows?" Ron sat up and his head thunked back against the wall. "It's Malfoy."

"Perhaps she doesn't know anything."

"Oh, she knows something. I know the look she gets when she's hiding something."

So did Harry. He remembered the first time he'd seen it, at the Gryffindor table. She'd been twelve, and pensive, and rocking in her seat. "She's doing what she thinks is right."

"Keeping her contract." Ron snorted in disgust. "Let me tell you, if their situations were reversed and I was the one about to be on trial, Malfoy would have thrown out his contract in a dirty great hurry."

Harry knew it was true, but that didn't change things. "That's because he's got no integrity," he snapped. "Do you really want Ginny to throw away her word for him? You can't ask her to compromise."

Ron turned a narrow look on him. "Made it up with her, have you?"

Harry clenched his jaw. "That is not the point," he said through gritted teeth.

"Yes or no?" Ron demanded.

"Forget it," Harry said. "Besides, you don't need Ginny's help - I thought you already had evidence on Malfoy."

The change of tack worked. Ron's face darkened and he slumped back. "I'm not supposed to talk about it," he said. "But as I've got nothing solid, I suppose it doesn't matter."

"Nothing?" said Harry, surprised.

"It's all indirect. It's all just suggested." Ron breathed hard through his nose. "There's nothing at all on his mother - she's going to go free, and that… doesn't bother me much. But I know that Malfoy told his dad to attack Hermione's parents. I know he gave his dad our hairs - or whatever he gave him to make those Polyjuice Potions, but I can't show my gut feelings to a jury, there's no witness, there's no proof." He brought a fist down on the arm of his chair. "And Mrs. Zabini's not talking - and neither's Mrs. Malfoy, of course. So all I can do is keep Malfoy detained until all the trials are finished - and that'll be another year at least - but if I haven't got anything on him by then…" He shook his head. "It's just not right, Harry. They threw twelve good years of Sirius's life away without blinking an eye, and now here's Sirius telling me that we don't have enough evidence to convict Malfoy? It's just not right." He paused. "I've just got one thing. One scrap of proof that might do it. I was talking to Sirius about the last day of the war and he says he remembers - " Ron stopped short and pressed his mouth shut.

Harry waited on edge, fairly sure that he wasn't supposed to ask and that Ron wasn't supposed to tell him.

"I want to tell you." Ron was red-eared and tight-lipped. "Damn stupid secrecy, I'm no good at it - how can I not tell you stuff? I'd rather go on a month-long fast or stop watching Quidditch, I swear -"

Ron stopped, mid-rant, and jumped to his feet. He strode around Harry's chair to the door of the Grangers' room.

"Hermione," he said urgently. "What is it?"

Harry hadn't even heard the door open, but he looked up to see Hermione closing it behind her with a very shaky hand. She stood against it, looking gaunt and shadowed, just as she'd looked on the night they'd first brought her parents here. "Ginny said she has to be alone," she said, leaning her hand on the doorknob. "She said I'm too anxious to stay in the room. I - I'm not supposed to go back in there."

Ron put an arm around her waist and guided her to sit between him and Harry. Hermione leaned against Ron and reached out for Harry's hand; he took it and held it in both his own. Hers was small, damp and cold.

For a long time, Hermione seemed to have fallen asleep between them. Ron stroked her hair and Harry kept hold of her hand. Orderlies passed and gave them sympathetic looks. The Head Cursologist approached to ask how the work was going inside, and Ron said very quietly that it wasn't finished and that they'd alert the appropriate mediwizards as soon as there was any development.

Harry had just leaned his neck against the back of the chair and shut his eyes when Hermione stirred.

"Do you… remember the troll?" she asked, very faintly.

"First year? In the toilet?" Ron laughed and ruffled her hair. "What made you think of that?"

"I don't know." Hermione sighed a little, sounding sleepy. "Just that the two of you are… still here with me. For everything. And I expect you always will be."

Both of them turned to look at her, then met each other's eyes over her head. Harry held Ron's gaze for a minute in which, somehow, time seemed to rush backwards.

"Remember the chess match?" Harry said, and his voice seemed distant in his ears.

Hermione sighed again. "Oh yes. And the potion bottles." She smiled a little. "I never told you, did I, how scared I was that I had got it wrong?"

"Remember the car?" Ron put in. "Flying to school? Brilliant."

"But the Whomping Willow wasn't."

"I remember riding all the way to school by myself," Hermione said, sounding wounded. She burrowed into Ron's shoulder.

Ron rolled his eyes at Harry over her head. "Aw, she's still sad, Harry."

"We were thinking of you all the time, Hermione."

She already looked happier. More awake. "Oh, oh, remember Fluffy?" Hermione giggled. "Fluffy. And Norbert. And Buckbeak - Hagrid was so mad."

Ron snorted. "Remember when Buckbeak gored Malfoy's arm?"

"And he whined like a sissy?" Harry added.

"And you tried to curse him?" Hermione elbowed Ron.

"And you slapped the hell out of him?" Ron returned.

"And Hermione beat him in all his subjects?"

"And Harry in all his matches."

Harry squeezed her hand, warming up to the memories. There were so many, and they came so fast, tumbling down from his brain and waking up his heart. "What about the wizard's duel we never got to have?"

"Yeah you did, in Lockhart's club." Ron tickled Hermione. "Oooh, Lockhart."

"Shush! I was about to remember how wonderful you were with Buckbeak's case, but just never mind."

"No, that's good, remember that! And I'll remember when you stole the cloak back from the tunnel." Ron sighed happily.

"Kind of like the time she stole from Snape."

"To brew an illegal Polyjuice Potion."

"She set Snape on fire, too, as I recall."

"Damn right she did." Ron gave Hermione a loud, smacking kiss on her forehead, and she made a pleased noise. "She's a maniac, this one. Just think of spew."

For once, Hermione didn't protest. "Remember when I dropped Divination?" she demanded.

Harry and Ron exchanged a grin.

"Never prouder," Ron said. "Except perhaps when you turned yourself into a cat."

She scowled, then brightened. "Remember the deathday party?"

"Well, who could forget the way Myrtle fancied Harry?"

"Oi, shut up." Harry smirked. "How about the way Viktor Krum fancied -"

"Potter, I'm warning you. Unless you want to be reminded of the fact that you used to date my girlfriend, according to the newspaper."

Hermione snickered. "Ah yes," she said, looking up at Harry and batting her eyelashes. "Those were the days, weren't they, Harry?"

Harry knew he was red, but he was snickering too. "Wish I could remember them. We must've been dating while you were Petrified."

"Well, that was the only time I was free."

Ron's ears went pink, and he grinned. "We all spent our share of time in the hospital wing, didn't we? Harry and I practically had to carry you up there after the last O.W.L. exam."

Hermione huffed. "You did not."

"Er, yeah, we did," said Harry, recalling what a wreck of nerves Hermione had been.

"I used to think Madam Pomfrey would give you a permanent bed in there, Harry," Ron continued. "The number of nights you spent in that place."

"Oh, I win easily on the number of nights," Hermione said. "First I turned into a cat, then I was Petrified… we all had to go in after we went through the trapdoor… and then again after the Dementors tried to kiss Sirius-"

"Right, when my leg was broken," said Ron. "The year before that, I had to get checked over after we came up from the Chamber of Secrets, and before that I had to go in for the dragon bite -"

"And I went in there for my teeth." Hermione smiled, showing them off. "I was so thrilled when Madam Pomfrey shrank them."

"Why? They were fine," Ron said.

Hermione looked at him as if he'd just said he enjoyed eating spiders.

"Well they were," he insisted. "You looked really eager all the time, and they just sort of… added to it."

"They made me look like a beaver, you mean."

Ron snorted loudly, apparently before he could stop himself, and Harry sat back to avoid Hermione's arm as she flailed to smack Ron.

"Hey! I think you're gorgeous, don't I?" He fended her off. "Who did I ask to the ball in fifth year? Who'd I get up the nerve to kiss?"

"Took you long enough!" Hermione said tartly, and then her eyes widened. "Ron, did you know that Harry saw our first kiss? He told me last night."

Ron reddened and looked at Harry over Hermione's head. "Did you really?" he asked.

Harry, who was just glad that they were no longer sharing memories of the hospital wing, was happy to tell the truth. "It was disgusting," he said, and leaned back again as Hermione whirled toward him in her chair. "Joking," he said quickly. "Just joking."

Hermione sighed, and the sound was half-annoyed and half-excited. "I love this," she said. "I love remembering these sorts of things, and we never do it. I remember so much, sometimes I think I need a Pensieve."

"You remember everything," Ron said. "You probably do need to get a Pensieve, before your head explodes."

"I don't remember everything," Hermione began modestly.

"Erm, Professor?" Ron's hand shot into the air and he spoke in a rapid, breathy voice, tossing his head as if he had a lot of bushy hair that was getting in his eyes. "Please, Professor, I know exactly how many times Devlin Whitehorn breathed in 1958, yes, of course I read that, hasn't everyone? I mean, it exists, so I've committed it to memory, isn't that the normal thing to do?"

It was such a remarkable impression that both Harry and Hermione gaped at him for a moment, and then Hermione said, rather weakly, "Who… is Devlin Whitehorn?"

"He designed the Nimbus," Harry and Ron said together.

Hermione laughed. "And I'm the know-it-all?" She tucked her arms into theirs and let out a long, happy sigh. "Remember our boat ride to Hogwarts?"

The three of them went quiet together, and Harry's heart beat hard and fast. He remembered it in detail. The way the spiraling towers had looked in the darkness - like something in a dream. And all of it theirs. He felt that it belonged to them more than it ever had to anyone. He almost wished he could go back to the beginning, no matter how hard some of it had been, and live it all over again.

"The first time we ever saw Gryffindor," Ron said quietly. "Remember that?"

Harry only nodded. He didn't trust his voice. He had never been home before that day, and he still felt he belonged there.

"I miss it," Hermione whispered.

"Me too."

"So do I."

Hermione looked from Ron to Harry with red-rimmed eyes and when she spoke her voice trembled. "I can get through anything as long as I've got the two of you," she said.

Ron looked down and sniffed.

Harry looked away and blinked hard.

"Thank you for being here." She tightened her arms around theirs.

"Of course."

"Not a question."

She sniffled. "I love you both."

Neither Harry nor Ron answered, but Harry knew that Hermione didn't really want them to. He felt a brief and unexpected kiss on his cheek, and kept his face turned away as Hermione gave Ron a very different kind of kiss. She relaxed after that, slipped her arm out of Harry's to take his hand once more, and went back to leaning against Ron.

"I really should tell Ginny to stop," she said quietly. "She's completely exhausted. And I know it's futile. I know that."

Ron kissed Hermione's head and didn't answer.

"At least they're peaceful." Hermione gave a half-smile. "That's something."

"That's huge." Ron smoothed her hair.

Harry was so absorbed in patting Hermione's hand and trying to decide how to help her that when Remus came down the hall with biscuits and water he thought he was an orderly. It took him awhile to focus on what was being offered to him.

"Eat. You're all starved."

But not even Ron took the food, and eventually Remus gave up, put the biscuits on another chair, and leaned against the wall in front of them. He yawned widely. "How is Ginny managing in there?"

Harry, Ron and Hermione exchanged looks.

"She's tired," Hermione finally said. "I know she doesn't want to give up, but…"

"But they don't look any different, to you. You think it's hopeless."

Hermione nodded.

"Well, in any case, she's gone far too long without sleep. I doubt she'll be able to do them much good at this point." Remus yawned again and scratched his head. "But it doesn't mean she has to give up entirely, Hermione. In fact I'm sure that when she's rested she'll want to -"

"Hermione!"

Harry, Ron and Hermione sat bolt upright and stared at the door. They could hear Ginny's muffled shout through the thick hospital walls. She sounded urgent. Excited.

"No," Hermione whispered. "No, I won't jump to conclusions."

"Hermione, hurry!"

Hermione stayed between Harry and Ron for another moment, shaking her head and gripping their hands. "I can't get my hopes up. I can't," she repeated. "I can't, I can't."

But she obviously had. A second later, she tore her arms away from theirs, shot out of her chair and ran back into her parents' room. Harry and Ron shared a fearful, hopeful look and hurried back to their posts in the doorway, with Remus just behind them.

Ginny's hands were pressed to Mrs. Granger’s chest, just above her heart. She moved one palm to her patient’s brow and shut her eyes, clearly intent on sensing something. She leaned very close, almost as if listening to Mrs. Granger’s mind, then stepped away and motioned for Hermione. "Come and talk to her, she’s listening," she managed, and went around to the far side of Mr. Granger’s bed, where she repeated her actions.

Hermione hurried to her mother’s side and Ron followed. "Mum?" she began, her voice tight with anxiety. "Mum, can you hear me? It’s Hermione. It’s me. I love you so much. Can you hear me? I’m right here."

Ron followed close behind her and stood with a hand on the small of her back. Harry moved into the room a step, watching Mrs. Granger’s face. It was entirely still and slack, and her eyes were mercifully closed as they had been since the day that Hermione had performed the Weeping Spell.

"Mum, I’m right here." Hermione picked up her mother’s hand and caressed it with her thumb. With her other hand, she brushed the hair carefully away from Mrs. Granger’s temples.

"Tell her to open her eyes," Ginny said, almost absently. Harry turned his eyes to her; she was concentrating on Mr. Granger now, her hands lying flat on chest. "It’ll mean more, coming from you."

Hermione nodded. "Open your eyes, Mum," she implored. "Look at me. You’ve been in a.... an accident. A magical accident. You’ve been unconscious for a long time and I miss you - please wake up. Please open your eyes."

Everyone was silent. Only Ginny moved, pressing one palm to Mr. Granger’s brow as she continued to work. Hermione looked desperately into her mother’s unmoving face and continued to stroke her hand and her hair.

"Please, Mum." She leaned down and kissed Mrs. Granger’s cheek. "Don’t let any more time go by," she whispered fervently. She was barely audible, though the room was entirely quiet. "I finished school. I… studied with a Thinker. I've told you this before, but I don't know if you heard me. Can you hear me?" Hermione paused, waiting. When no response came, she tried again. "Ron’s here with me. Do you remember Ron Weasley? I want you to know him. You’ll love him. I love him."

Ron blushed and moved his hand a little on Hermione’s back, but Hermione, it seemed, was unaware of her surroundings. She continued to speak to her mother.

"Do you remember when I came home after my second year and you almost wouldn't let me go back to Hogwarts?" She laughed a little, though tears choked the sound. "Do you remember when you grounded me after my fourth year? After I let the school nurse shrink my teeth and you found out? You were so angry - but I haven’t obeyed that rule you gave me not to mix dentistry and magic. I’ve done magic on your teeth since you’ve been unconscious, and you’ll be happier for it, I promise you." Hermione drew a deep breath. She didn’t seem to be too conscious of what she was saying; she simply continued to speak. "Do you remember when I came home at Christmas in my first year, and I just wanted to show you everything?" Hermione knelt and laid her head next to her mother’s on the pillow. She nestled their faces as close as she could get them, and draped her arm protectively over Mrs. Granger’s body. "Do you remember when I first got my letter to Hogwarts?" she whispered. "How excited we were? And when I was made prefect? I was made Head Girl, too. I finished school at the top of my class. Mrs. Weasley was there to hug me for it and she’s been so wonderful to me, but it isn’t the same. Wake up. Wake up."

Harry felt a prickling sensation behind his eyes, and he screwed up his will against it. Ron’s tears, however, spilled down his face as he stood behind Hermione’s kneeling form, his hands on her hair. His eyes were closed, and so were Hermione’s, in stark contrast to Mrs. Granger’s, which were wide open. She stared at the ceiling, apparently oblivious to the daughter who was suffering beside her.

Except that her eyes were open.

Harry blinked, unable to register the enormity of what was happening. Mrs. Granger’s eyes had been shut only moments ago.

"Yes -" Ginny choked suddenly. "I knew it, I knew it - oh, Hermione - her eyes."

Hermione’s head snapped up and she stared at her mother’s face, at the brown eyes that had been sealed shut for two months. "Mum?" she whispered, her breath shaking. But Mrs. Granger gave no response at all. In fact, she appeared much as she had during the years she had lain maddened by the Cruciatus Curse, and Harry wondered if perhaps she had regressed into that state once more.

Hermione must have feared the same thing. "Mum?" she demanded, panic in her voice. "Please respond to me. Ginny, how do I know if she can -"

"Mrs. Granger," Ron said quietly, pulling Hermione to her feet so that they could bend over her together, "if you’re awake and you can hear us, blink now."

Harry had never heard a room so still. He couldn’t look away from Mrs. Granger’s face - from her eyes - as her lids slid slowly shut. They stayed closed for a long moment and then, with what seemed to be some effort, they opened again.

Hermione opened her mouth as if to speak, but no speech came. She took several shallow, useless breaths. Her chin trembled. She reached out shaking hands and touched them to her mother’s cheeks, still staring down into her eyes, and then she let out a cry of unmistakable, anguished relief. "Mum -" was all she managed before she dropped to her knees again and buried her face in Mrs. Granger’s shoulder, where she sobbed like a child, making unintelligible noises of mingled apology and helpless joy.

Дата добавления: 2015-11-04